First of all, The Historical Fiction Company (HFC) recently awarded Heart of Fire Five Stars and the ‘Highly Recommended’ Award of Excellence.
As the HFC one of the premier reviewers of historical fiction in the world, this is indeed an honour that we are all proud of.
In addition to the award, the HFC’s editorial review of Heart of Fire rendered us speechless with extremely high praise for the story, for Adam’s knowledge and storytelling abilities, and for our amazing editor at Beautiful Ink Editing whose work is “top-notch, making for a smooth reading experience.”
Below are some excerpts from The Historical Fiction Company’s review of Heart of Fire…
“…Haviaras grabs the reader’s interest right away with an engaging and evocative opening. The first sentence immediately immerses the reader in antiquity and establishes the epic tale’s setting. This intriguing hook reveals the author’s skill in drawing readers in from the beginning of the narrative.
In Heart of Fire, Adam Alexander Haviaras transports us to the vibrant heart of ancient Greece through a story that is both a realistic recreation of the ancient Olympic Games and a voyage of personal salvation. Haviaras is an engrossing, poignant story that is full of the essence of human struggle and victory through the perspective of Kyniska, a Spartan princess with dreams of Olympic glory, and Stefanos, an Argive mercenary with a turbulent background.
Heart of Fire brings the most famous athletic event in ancient history to serve as the backdrop for a brilliant fusion of romance, mythology, and history. The plot is intriguing, drawing us in with a blend of deep personal stakes and wider historical ramifications. Haviaras explores what it means to pursue glory and redemption in a civilization constrained by strict conventions and long-standing rivalries via the weaving of a tale of love, honor, and ambition…
… The next strong suit of the book is the character development. It’s very well done and we’re able to relate to Stefanos and Kyniska’s challenges and goals because of the nuanced and intricate writing. Stefanos has a fascinating and complex path from a violent existence to one filled with honor and purpose. Kyniska defies the norms of her era and epitomizes strength and resolve. Their growth throughout the book is evidence of Haviaras’ talent for developing believable and incredibly inspirational characters.
The plot keeps up a smooth flow, with each chapter adding to the story’s increasing energy. Haviaras skillfully strikes a balance between the personal and historical aspects, allowing the story to flow naturally toward its conclusion. Heart of Fire’s continuity is a crucial component that keeps you interested and ready to find out what happens to the characters.”
Green olive wreath on white. Top view
“Another positive of this book is the uniqueness. Heart of Fire is notable for how differently it portrays the historical Olympic Games. Haviaras provides a novel viewpoint on a well-known historical era by contrasting the grandeur of the Olympics with the intimate tales of its protagonists. The novel’s examination of concepts like love, competition, and atonement via the prisms of athletics and combat brings a noteworthy level of uniqueness…
…Heart of Fire‘s narrative arc is expertly written, following a precise path that heightens suspense and expectation. The story moves along at a good clip, striking a pleasing mix of action and emotional nuance from Stefanos’ early search for atonement to the pivotal events of the Olympic Games. The storyline comes to a dramatic climax that not only settles the main problems but also has a long- lasting effect on the reader.
With vivid descriptions and real dialogue, Haviaras’ writing eloquently and precisely captures the spirit of Ancient Greece. The author’s skill in fusing vivid storytelling with historical detail is astounding, resulting in an engaging and educational story. Heart of Fire is an excellent example of Haviaras’ storytelling ability and his in-depth knowledge of antiquity.
Heart of Fire ends in a way that is both thought-provoking and satisfying. The conclusion, which will not give away any plot points, sums up the themes of sacrifice and triumph and leaves readers with a strong impression of the characters’ travels. For anyone who has ever dared to dream large, it is a fitting conclusion to the novel’s examination of reaching greatness despite all circumstances.
In summary, Adam Alexander Haviaras’ Heart of Fire: A Novel of the Ancient Olympics is a magnificent story that vividly and emotionally captures the world of ancient Greece. Haviaras explores the ageless human search for greatness and significance via the connected destiny of Kyniska and Stefanos, as well as the spirit of the ancient Olympics. For those who enjoy historical fiction as well as those who are enthralled with Ancient Greece and its lasting influence, this book is a must-read.”
We’re thrilled by this wonderful award and the amazing review which The Historical Fiction Company has bestowed on Adam and Heart of Fire.
To read the full review on The Historical Fiction Company’s website, CLICK HERE.
If you are looking for an exciting summer read in this year of the Olympiad, then look no further than Heart of Fire: A Novel of the Ancient Olympics!
Heart of Fire is available in e-book, paperback and special edition 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.
Remember… There can be no victory without sacrifice.
We are heading back to Mycenae in this post to explore the domiciles of the Dead outside the walls of the ancient citadel, that is, the great tombs of Mycenae.
In our previous post, we walked through the entire fortress of Mycenae, discussed what it was like and how it felt to return to that ancient and, some would say, menacing, fortress after twenty years.
To read the previous post, Return to Mycenae, CLICK HERE.
Likewise, to go on a full tour of the archaeological site, check out our video Mycenae: A Tour of the Ancient Citadel, HERE.
Grave Circle ‘A’ within the walls of Mycenae’s citadel.
In our tour of the fortress, and the video, we explored what is known as ‘Grave Circle A’ which is located within the walls of Mycenae and was the location of the royal cemetery. It was here that graves pre-dating the Trojan War were located, and where many of the magnificent finds of Mycenae were discovered, including the golden death mask Heinrich Schliemann mistakenly took to be the ‘Face of Agamemnon’.
In this post, we are going outside the fortress walls of Mycenae to explore four of the most astonishing tombs of the Greek Bronze Age: the Lion Tomb, the Tomb of Aegisthus, the Tomb of Klytemnestra, and of course, the Treasury of Atreus.
But first, let us take a brief look at the types of tombs these represented.
Parts of a Mycenaean chamber tomb, drawn up by Piet de Jong in 1920–1923
The graves located within ‘Grave Circle A’ are what are known as ‘shaft graves’ and, within the citadel, these were used to bury royalty with their astounding grave goods.
The tombs which we are looking at here are known as ‘chamber tombs’, of which there are many in the hills about Mycenae. These consisted of rock-cut chambers underground which were achieved by way of a passage called the dromos, which means ‘road’.
These chamber tombs could vary in size and shape, but when it came to the royal chamber tombs, or ‘beehive tombs’, they were meant to impress!
Artist representation of a Mycenaean tholos or ‘beehive’ tomb
The royal beehive tombs outside the walls of Mycenae were built into the hillsides and approached each by a long dromos, the largest being thirty-seven meters in length!
They had elaborate doorways and entranceways known as the stomion, beyond which are the vast, round burial chambers. These beehive tombs were roofed by a stone vault of horizontal rings which diminished in diameter until the roof closed at the top. They were true feats of engineering at the time. They were also referred to as tholos tombs because of their round shape. In some cases, such as the Lion Tomb, rectangular cists were cut into the floors of these tombs to accommodate bodies and valuable grave goods.
At Mycenae, there are approximately nine tholos or ‘beehive’ tombs that are known to date, dating from roughly around 1550 B.C.E to the end of the 13th century B.C.E.
Unfortunately, the grave robbers had cleaned all of them out, but the tombs themselves remained largely intact, and we are going to explore four of them today.
Map of Tombs at Mycenae
There is the grave of Atreus, along with the graves of such as returned with Agamemnon from Troy, and were murdered by Aegisthus after he had given them a banquet… Klytemnestra and Aegisthus were buried at some little distance from the wall. They were thought unworthy of a place within it, where lay Agamemnon himself and those who were murdered with him.
(Pausanias, Description of Greece, 2.16)
In his ‘Description of Greece’, the second century C.E. traveller and historian, Pausanias, makes mention of the tombs outside of the fortress walls, and three of them were on our list to visit after we finished our long, hot journey through the ruins of the fortress that dominated the area.
When we came out of the Lion Gate of Mycenae, cutting our way through the army of invading tourists, we turned left immediately and followed the dirt path down to where we knew there were two of the tombs we wanted to see.
Over twenty years ago, when we were last in Mycenae, these had been closed to the public because of their state of disrepair and the risk of stone falling upon one’s head. However, this time, we were thrilled to discover that these first two tombs, the tombs of Aegisthus and of Klytemnestra, were open!
Entrance to the ‘Tomb of Aegisthus’
The Tomb of Aegisthus was the first into which we ventured. It is the smaller tomb, and seemed to have born the brunt of time as much of the beehive roof was missing, leaving its golden sandstone walls open to sky. The chamber of this is still an impressive thirteen meters wide and the dromos is twenty-two meters long and five meters wide.
What struck me about this tomb – aside from the fact that this grand house of the dead may have been built for the murderer of Agamemnon – was the size of the lintel above the deep entrance.
There was a scaffold beneath this, supporting the entrance, which forced us to look carefully as we walked beneath and into the sun-drenched inner chamber.
The interior of the ‘Tomb of Aegisthus’ viewed from above with the plain of Argos in the distance.
When we emerged from the Tomb of Aegisthus, we turned right and went a short distance downhill to the site of the Tomb of Klytemnestra, King Agamemnon’s queen, and the mother of Electra and Orestes.
I would be lying if I didn’t note that I felt strange approaching the supposed tomb of this legendary character of Greek legend. Yes, Klytemnestra was said to be an adulterer with Aegisthus, but she was also daughter of King Tyndareus of Sparta, the older half-sister of the famed Helen, a jilted wife, and a tragically vengeful mother whose daughter was sacrificed by her husband.
I felt for the tragic, yet powerful spirit of Klytemnestra as I approached her final resting place.
The ‘Tomb of Klytemnestra’
The Tomb of Klytemnestra is thought to be the latest in date at Mycenae, constructed around 1220 B.C.E. The dromos of the tomb is thirty-seven meters long and six meters wide, and is lined with massive rectangular blocks.
The triangle over the lintel and the rest of the entrance would have been faced with marble slabs that were covered with elaborate carvings of spirals, rosettes and more, and the stromion seems to have contained a great wooden door about midway through its depth.
When we entered the Tomb of Klytemnestra, it was dark and sad, a feeling that was no doubt added to by what looked like a dead body at a glance, but which turned out to be a sad stray dog come to cool itself from the 45+ Celsius degree day.
The chamber of this tomb is only slightly larger that that of Aegisthus’ at thirteen and a half meters, but the beehive vault is fully intact and disappears into the darkness thirteen meters overhead.
This truly is an impressive monument and well-worth the visit if you have the strength after visiting the citadel. To be able to see even more, consider bringing a good flashlight the better to view the stonework inside.
Interior of the ‘Tomb of Klytemnestra’
After the Tomb of Klytemnestra, we climbed back up the hill toward the Lion Gate and then down toward the site museum.
To our surprise, there was yet another tholos tomb to the left of the museum. Without delay, we went down the rocky slope to its dromos, delighted to find that no one else was there.
Entrance to ‘The Lion Tomb’ of Mycenae
The ‘Lion Tomb’ is thus named because of its proximity to the famed‘Lion Gate’ of Mycenae’s citadel. This is believed to have been constructed some time in the middle of the fourteenth century B.C.E. and has a dromos that is twenty-two meters long and almost five-and-a-half meters wide.
Sadly, the roof of this tomb is no longer intact, but it is estimated that its dome soared to a height of fifteen meters. It is still an impressive work, the chamber of which is fourteen meters wide and contained three pit graves which were found to be empty upon its discovery.
We stood in the middle of this chamber, our voices carrying around the bright, poros stone, and marvelled at its beauty, wondered who had been buried here. Had they been warriors of Mycenae, or members of the royal family who were not fit to be buried within the citadel, as Pausanias points out was the case for Klytemnestra and Aegisthus?
We will never know, but it certainly felt like a gift to be there with no one else around.
Interior of ‘The Lion Tomb’
From the Lion Tomb, we made our way to the museum to view many of the wonderful artifacts discovered at Mycenae. It is worth a visit, if anything to cool off from the Greek summer heat. The most important finds from Mycenae, including the golden death masks and bronze daggers, can be seen at the National Archaeological Museum in Athens, which everyone should visit.
After a refreshing, and overpriced, cup of freshly squeezed Argive orange juice in the parking lot, we got in our car and bid farewell to Mycenae’s walls.
But not before one final stop.
A short distance down the road to the modern village of Mykines, you will find on the right the entrance to the great ‘Treasury of Atreus’, or, as the locals have called it in the past, the ‘Tomb of Agamemnon’.
The Treasury of Atreus is accessed by way of a separate entrance to the main archaeological site, but it is no less impressive.
Artist impression of the ‘Treasury of Atreus’
The Treasury of Atreus – named for the legendary son of Pelops and Hippodameia, and father of King Agamemnon, and King Menelaus of Sparta – is one of the most impressive monuments of the Mycenaean Age. It is completely preserved with only the decoration of the facade and interior missing.
Approaching the tomb, one is filled with a sense of awe and wonder. Who was truly buried here, and why did their people believe they deserved such a monument? What was the burial ceremony like, and what magnificent grave goods were interred with the dead, only to be stolen by grave robbers to disappear for all time?
Standing in front of the Treasury of Atreus
The dromos leading to the tomb is cut into the rock of the hillside and is lined with massive rectangular blocks. It is thirty-six meters long and six meters wide, and the height of the entrance to the tomb is a stunning ten and a half meters high. The actually doorway measures just under five-and-a-half meters high and nearly three meters wide.
Passing beneath the lintel and the gaping triangle that would have been faced with ornate columns of green stone and a fresco or sculpture is an eerie experience. Remains of these can be seen in the National Archaeological Museum in Athens.
As we walked from the blistering heat and sunlight into the cool darkness of the tomb, it was indeed like stepping into another world, a world of the Dead.
Though there were many tourists by the time we reached the Treasury of Atreus, their presence seemed to be swallowed up by the tomb’s darkness, allowing us to observe our surroundings in relative peace.
Ceiling of the ‘Treasury of Atreus’
The main chamber of the tomb measures just over fourteen-and-a-half meters in diameter. It is a broad space one steps into upon entering the tomb, but the first thing that really draws the eye is the soaring ceiling of the tomb’s mesmerizing beehive construction.
The ceiling reached to a height of about thirteen-and-a-half meters high with thirty-three courses, or ‘rings’, of perfectly joined stones making up the construction. It is a true feat of engineering, that much is obvious, but it was also ornate, a home fit for kings in the Afterlife, though the ornamentation that would have decorated the circular walls is all gone, stolen since long before the visit of Pausanias in the second century C.E.
It is not only incredible to think that this tomb may have held the remains for such legendary figures as Atreus or Agamemnon but also, perhaps more so, it is stunning that it is still intact. The construction of this tomb has survived since the thirteenth century B.C.E.
The ante-chamber within the ‘Treasury of Atreus’
One feature that sets this particular Mycenaean chamber tomb apart from the others is the addition of an ante-chamber within the tomb. This large room is located to the right as one enters the treasury and was another burial chamber, in addition to the main chamber. The ante-chamber is blocked off and is deep and dark, but if you have a flashlight handy you can just make out the interior.
Once we finished explored the tomb, the air growing somewhat heavy within, we bid farewell to the shades of Atreus and Agamemnon, and made our way to the doorway and the light outside in the land of the living.
The tomb’s maw spat us out and we shielded our eyes as we walked in the sliver of shade offered by the walls of the dromos. It was time to leave Mycenae and the dead behind but, just as Orpheus could not help but turn to seek Eurydice at the gates of the Underworld, we also felt the need to turn around for one final glance at the magnificent entrance of the Treasury of Atreus.
The light outside the ‘Treasury of Atreus’
If you ever go to Mycenae, after exploring the citadel itself, be sure to leave time to visit the tombs of Mycenae, those great houses of the Dead that surround it.
They are some of the most stunning pieces of Mycenaean architecture that you will ever see, and when you emerge from them, from the deep darkness into the light, those tombs, and the shades of their inhabitants, will leave a lasting impression.
The ‘Lion Gate’ of Mycenae
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The name conjures something deep inside, something out of myth and legend. There is a feeling of mystery about the name, of power, and perhaps of dread.
How is that? It’s just a name after all, isn’t it?
Not really. It’s much more than that.
Mycenae.
It echoes in the mind, in the memory of time. For me, it is something of a sign post in far away antiquity. It’s not just a place, but also a culture, a people… It is a warlike period that stands out in the vast Bronze Age, between the Age of Heroes and the Archaic period.
Mycenae itself, the place, is a symbol of a brutal time, long ago, that continues to captivate our imaginations, the same way that it has done for our ancestors since then.
Mycenaean Warriors
A barrage of names comes to mind when I think of Mycenae, like so many barbed bronze arrows raining down in the midst of a battle – Atreus, Agamemnon, Achilles, Menelaus, Helen, Clytemnestra, Electra, Orestes and all the heroes of the Trojan War. I think of Homer whose epic Iliada immortalized them all, and even of Alexander the Great who is said to have slept with a copy of that epic beneath his pillow.
Before the summer of 2023, the last time I had visited Mycenae, that dread cyclopean-walled palace whose corridors echoed with war and murder, was on a warm day in March over twenty-years ago.
On my first visit, it was springtime, the ruins surrounded by wild flowers.
I had been back to Greece frequently since then, of course, visiting other archaeological sites, writing about them in my novels and articles, but in all that time, I avoided Mycenae.
I don’t know why exactly, but my natural tendency was to give it a wide berth, to be near it, but only orbiting it. I avoided the tourist assault upon the great ‘Lion Gate’, and the blazing heat that one experiences when visiting it in high summer.
I felt like returning to Mycenae too soon was like returning to the scene of a crime. There is a lingering sadness, a sense of loss about the place that is difficult to describe.
As the epics teach us, however, life is beautiful, and terrible, and fleeting. Since my first visit long ago, time seemed to have flowed more quickly than I would have wished when I as a child.
The citadel of Mycenae as seen from the approach on the road from the modern village of Mykines.
When I first visited Mycenae I was much younger, a little naive, and definitely more idealistic. I was just setting out for my own battles beneath the walls of a distant, metaphorical Troy.
Older now, and having endured my own toils, I wondered if I was ready to return to the flattened halls of Mycenae with a perspective that is afforded by age and experience.
With my wife, and our own children bearing the same excitement and idealism I once possessed, the decision was taken. We would make our way to Mycenae.
Aerial view of the archaeological site
Though it is mostly known as the fortress of King Agamemnon, who led the Greek army at Troy, Mycenae has a long, rich and mythical past.
Briefly then…
Although it is believed that there has been habitation on the acropolis of Mycenae since roughly c. 2500 B.C.E, legend has it that Mycenae was originally founded by Perseus, the son of Zeus and Danae, and first King of Mycenae. Perseus is said to have used the legendary Cyclops to build Mycenae’s great walls some time in the first half of the 14th century B.C.E.
For a long time, Mycenae thrived under the descendants of Perseus, including Eurystheus for whom Herakles performed his famed Labours. After Eurystheus was killed in battle against the children of Herakles and the Athenians, the people of Mycenae chose Atreus, the son of Pelops and Hippodameia to rule them.
Many years of prosperity and greatness followed under the Atreidai dynasty, beginning with King Atreus, and then under his son, King Agamemnon, who was said to be the greatest king in Greece, ruling over the plains of Argos to the south, and the entire northeastern Peloponnese, including Corinth, sometime between 1220-1190.
Mycenae was at the heart of this world, and one of the most important cultural and political centres during Greece’s Bronze Age until its destruction toward the end of the 12th century B.C.E.
It was (and remains) a place where the history of the curse of the Atreidai, written about by ancient playwrights, still echoes about the landscape, and behind the mass of Mycenae’s great Cyclopean walls.
Ajax, Agamemnon, and Odysseus
The later traveller Pausanias, who visited Mycenae in the middle of the second century C.E. is thought to be the last ancient author to write about Mycenae:
There still remain, however, parts of the city wall, including the gate, upon which stand lions. These, too, are said to be the work of the Cyclopes, who made for Proetus the wall at Tiryns.
In the ruins of Mycenae is a fountain called Persea; there are also underground chambers of Atreus and his children, in which were stored their treasures. There is the grave of Atreus, along with the graves of such as returned with Agamemnon from Troy, and were murdered by Aegisthus after he had given them a banquet. As for the tomb of Cassandra, it is claimed by the Lacedaemonians who dwell around Amyclae. Agamemnon has his tomb, and so has Eurymedon the charioteer, while another is shared by Teledamus and Pelops, twin sons, they say, of Cassandra, whom while yet babies Aegisthus slew after their parents. Electra has her tomb, for Orestes married her to Pylades. Hellanicus adds that the children of Pylades by Electra were Medon and Strophius. Clytemnestra and Aegisthus were buried at some little distance from the wall. They were thought unworthy of a place within it, where lay Agamemnon himself and those who were murdered with him.
(Pausanias, Description of Greece, 2.16)
The Murder of Aegisthus by Orestes
When we made the decision to visit Mycenae again, these are the stories and people whom I was thinking about the night before as we ate dinner on a terrace beneath the stars.
The night was hot and calm, those ancient mountains black against the purple and indigo night sky pocked with stars. From our hotel in the modern village of Mykines, I was constantly aware of the citadel up the hill, surrounded by the tombs of legends. As I sipped cool wine from a glass and listened to the bark of a distant dog, or the screech of a fox, I wondered if, from the palace of Mycenae itself, Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, Orestes and Electra, or even a young Iphigenia, had seen what I was seeing.
Had those people of myth and legend looked from their palace walls to see the flickering of fires atop the walls of Argos across the plain? Had they travelled to make offerings to Hera at her sanctuary down the mountainside on the way to Tiryns? Did they enjoy the slash of brilliant blue afforded by the Gulf of Argos that lit the distance on a clear day? Did they too savour the wine, oil, and fruit of that very same land as I was in that moment?
It that ancient landscape laced with history and myth, I felt certain that they had done all of that.
The myths are everywhere in the Argolid.
Dinnertime view from the village of Mycenae to the south from the terrace of our hotel, La Petite Planète.
The next morning we rose early with the crowing of a nearby cock and the barking of a dog, had a hearty breakfast, and drove the short kilometre up the road to the archaeological site in the hopes of beating the crowds.
It was just 8 a.m. and yet the car park was already half-full, the sun beating down, priming us for yet another day of 45 degrees Celsius.
While most of the sweating hordes of tourists went first to the museum, or a stop at the loos, we marched directly up the curving path toward the high walls of Mycenae and found ourselves with a blessedly unobstructed view of the famed ‘Lion Gate’ of the citadel.
The ‘Lion Gate’ of Mycenae
It took my breath away, though I had been before, and seen it countless times in books while doing research.
To stand in the shadow of those Cyclopean walls, before that monumental gate, to imagine Mycenaean warriors with their spears and boar’s tusk helmets staring down at you, is an experience unlike any other.
The pictures don’t do it justice.
How many kings and warriors had walked through that gate? How many chariots with bronze warriors had driven up to it? How many Trojan slaves, like Cassandra, had been forced within that stoney curtain of unimaginable size?
After taking it in, we filmed what we needed to, and pressed forward to begin our exploration of the vast ruins.
It can be overwhelming to visit a site as big as Mycenae, especially if you don’t know what you’re looking at.
Fortunately, that was not us. It helps to be familiar with the site and to come armed with a proper map such as we were. There is no grid pattern such as one might find in ancient Roman settlements. Mycenae is spread out over the top of a high rock, and surrounded by higher mountains with deep chasms on the north and south sides, and and rocky cliffs that fall away to plains covered in olive groves and fruit trees in the valleys to the northwest and southwest toward Argos and the sea.
Inside the Lion Gate, and past the guardhouse on the left, we made directly for one of the most famous locations within the citadel: Grave Circle ‘A’.
This vast, deep circle surrounded by upright slabs was the royal cemetery, intended to impress those who entered the fortress, and to honour the dead rulers of Mycenae. This is where Heinrich Schliemann, the German archaeologist who discovered Troy, found the six grave shafts in 1876 and the remains of nineteen skeletons, including eight men, nine women, and two children. They were buried with riches, gifts, food and furnishings for their journey to the Underworld.
Bronze daggers found in ‘Grave Circle A’
It is also here that Schliemann and Greek archaeologist, Panagiotis A. Stamatakis, discovered among the grave goods some of the most famous artifacts from the period, including the bronze swords and daggers, golden goblets and cups, five golden death masks and other objects with elaborate gold leaf designs, amber and more.
Though Schliemann was determined that one of the graves and the golden death mask within it, belonged to Agamemnon, it was later determined that these burials predated that period by a few hundred years.
Still, the beauty of those finds is unmistakable, and the site unlike anything else.
Site of the Royal Tombs in Grave Circle ‘A’
After visiting Grave Circle ‘A’, most people will begin the trek to the upper acropolis where the palace is located, but before one does, it’s a good idea to continue ahead to view the southern sector of the citadel where there was a temple and the dwellings of the priests of Mycenae. From here, beneath the shade of a lone fig tree, one can look out across the plain to the distant mountains and sea.
I stood there for a few moments, the air white hot and dusty, the light blinding as I looked over my map to see my route up the stairs and the path that leads to the propylon of the palace.
View from the ‘Great Court’ and propylon of the megaron of the palace toward the Argolic Gulf and Argos across the plain.
On my first visit to Mycenae I didn’t really know what I was looking at. It was all quite overwhelming. Of course I knew about the Trojan War, and something of Agamemnon, but the importance of that place, those stories and characters in the identity of the west, and corpus of literature of western civilization, was still unknown to me.
However, on this visit, as I passed through the propylon, the grand entrance to the palace, I knew what lay ahead, knew that I was walking in the footsteps of legends.
The pathway leads up until, on your right, you come to a series of rooms that were the beating heart of the palace. There is a guest chamber where dignitaries would have stayed, and the ‘Great Court’ where courtiers and guests would have waited for an audience with the king. And then from the ‘Great Court’, you can see another propylon leading to what was the megaron of Mycenae, the throne room.
Artist impression of the megaron of Mycenae
On my first visit to Mycenae, I was able to walk though the ‘Great Court’ unimpeded, forward through the propylon, and on into the megaron itself. I remembered looking at the outline of a great circle in the middle where the hearth fire was supposed to have been located.
Sadly, today, the ‘Great Court’ and megaron are closed off, so I could only admire them from the path higher up. There is also now a small shelter over the location of the hearth fire, shielding it from the elements, and also from the prying eyes of tourists.
The megaron of Mycenae today. Note the roof covering the site of the hearth fire in the centre.
Perhaps one of the most interesting parts of the site, that may be linked to one of the bloodier episodes purported to have taken place at Mycenae, is the room adjacent to the throne room. This long oddly shaped room that has some low walls is thought to be the bathroom where, as legend has it, Clytemnestra murdered her husband, Agamemnon, as he bathed.
The Murder of Agamemnon, painting by Pierre-Narcisse Guérin (1817) – though not in the bath in this representation.
Having taken in the heart of the site, it is worth crossing the path and climbing up the ruins on the other side for a magnificent 360 degree view of the site and surrounding countryside. There was a later temple on this high spot, believed to be dedicated to either Hera or Athena. The temple is long gone sadly, but it is still worth standing there and taking it all in.
That done, we proceeded down the path that led to the eastern quarter of the citadel where it is believed there were artists’ quarters, store rooms, and other structures that formed part of the palace’s east wing.
Stairs leading down to the cistern of Mycenae
If you pass this eastern area of the citadel and proceed to the end of the path, you will find low ruins of buildings flanked by an arched ‘sally port’ on the right, and to the left the north ‘sally port’ beside which is the arched tunnel that leads down a staircase to the underground cistern of Mycenae. It is definitely worth having a look down there, but if you do go, bring a good flashlight so that you can properly peer into the darkness below.
The ‘North Gate’ of Mycenae’s citadel
After we emerged from the cool dark of the cistern, we exited the citadel at the North ‘Sally Port’ and took a path along the outside of the north wall to re-enter the citadel at the sturdy north gate of the acropolis. From here, the cliff falls away to olive groves and the site museum down the hill, built to look like the palace itself might have done.
Beautiful views are a constant when one visits Mycenae. You just have to remember to look up.
From there, the path leads along the inside of the north wall back to the guardhouse and the inside of the ‘Lion Gate’.
When we arrived back at the main gate, it was to a great invasion of tourists, all of them crowded beneath the monumental sculpture which they admired, taking advantage of the shade afforded by those magnificent Cyclopean walls.
I was grateful we had come early, and felt blessed to have had a quiet moment alone with the Lions of Mycenae.
One of the golden death masks found in Grave Circle ‘A’ at Mycenae. This one was believed by Schliemann to be the ‘face of Agamemnon’
Admittedly, the heat had been so intense, my mind so taken up with the site itself, that the museum which we visited afterward, was a bit of a blur. The most impressive finds from Mycenae are in the National Archaeological Museum in Athens, but there is still a lot to see in the site museum at Mycenae itself. Once you have rested, it is definitely worth a look.
There is another aspect to my return to Mycenae that I have not covered, and that is my exploration of the great tombs that surround it.
Mycenae, it seems to me, is surrounded by the Dead, and after a brief rest, we went in search of them.
But that is a story for next time…
Stayed tuned for the next post on the ‘Tombs of Mycenae’
If you are interested in visiting Mycenae for yourself, be sure to check out the deals that are available from Eagles and Dragons Publishing’s subsidiary, Ancient World Travel here:
Check out our specially-curated deals on visits, tours (many from Athens) and tickets to Ancient Mycenae by CLICKING HERE.
If you want to see the magnificent collection of artifacts from Mycenae, you can get affordable tickets to the National Archaeological Museum in Athens by CLICKING HERE.
Also, read the review of La Petite Planète, a lovely hotel (with an amazing terrace for dinner!) in the village of Mycenae where you can stay here:
Eagles and Dragons Publishing is pleased to announce the release of the first paperback and hardcover editions in the Mythologia series of retellings from Greek Mythology!
As some of you may know, the four books in the Mythologia series have only been available in e-book format.
That is, until now!
Eagles and Dragons Publishing is happy to announce the publication of the first trade paperback and hardcover editions in the Mythologia series.
The Mythologia: First Omnibus Edition includes the first three books in the series… Chariot of the Son: The Story of Phaethon, Wheels of Fate: The Story of Pelops and Hippodameia, and lastly A Song for the Underworld: The Story of Orpheus and Eurydice.
All editions are now available, so if you are interested in getting a copy, justget the ISBN number for the edition of your preference on the book’s page on our website. You can then order at your favourite on-line store, independent bookshop, or borrow a copy from your local public library.
To check out the new artwork, and to order copies of the new books, CLICK HERE.
Lastly, if you are interested in the Greek and Roman myths these books relate, as well as the research that went into writing them, be sure to check out the following articles:
When one thinks of the great cities of the ancient world the first that most often comes to mind is Athens. It is a beacon of light, learning, and invention in the far-distant past that continues to inspire and influence us to this day.
It is also my second home, for I have been fortunate enough to return to Athens many times over the years to visit family, and to acquaint myself with the countless historical monuments that still stand, from the Parthenon and Kerameikos, to the often overlooked shrines along the Ilissos River which runs beneath the city.
When I find my way around the city of Athens, I do so by way of its ancient monuments. They have always been my guides, my markers for navigating the warren of streets and alleyways of the city of the Goddess Athena.
Athens, Greece – Monastiraki Square and ancient Acropolis with rainbow
But Athens is not just a place for those fascinated by mythological and Classical Greece. There is also a great deal for the most ardent of Romanophiles to see, for ancient Athens was loved and admired by a few Roman emperors, foremost among them being Hadrian (A.D. 117-138).
This past summer, while on vacation in Greece, I returned to the historic centre of this ancient city to do some research for the forthcoming second novel in The Etrurian Players series. One of the monuments I was most interested in re-visiting was the Roman Agora of Athens.
Before we get into my visit to the site, we should talk a bit about its history and what there is to see…
Plan of the Roman Agora
The agora of an ancient Greek city was the central public gathering place. It was the political, social, business, athletic, and religious heart of the city. The agora was where anything of import happened or was decided.
And the city of Athens was fortunate enough to have two of them.
The first agora of Athens was, of course, the ancient one located at the northwest corner of the Acropolis and covering the area between it, the Areopagus, and the massive Dipylon Gate of the city. And the great route of the Panathenaic Way ran through it, all the way to the entrance to the Acropolis.
The ancient agora was filled stoas and temples and monuments to heroes and to the Gods. There were fountains, a library, a mint, offices, altars, sanctuaries and more. And in around 14 B.C., the Roman general, Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa built an odeon in the middle of the ancient agora which had an auditorium for about one thousand spectators.
The Roman Agora from the eastern propylon
Just prior to the time that General Agrippa built his odeon, another building project began to take place in the city of Athens, this time sponsored by Emperor Augustus in fulfillment of a promise previously made by Gaius Julius Caesar. This new project was the Roman Agora, also known as the ‘Roman Forum’ of Athens. It was begun in 19 B.C. and finally finished in 11 B.C.
It is said that the reason for this new building project was because the ancient agora had become so full of monuments and buildings that there was no longer a wide open, public gathering place. As we shall see, the new Roman Agora would serve other purposes.
Gate of Athena Archegetis
The new agora, built by Caesar (posthumously) and Augustus, became the commercial centre of Roman Athens and the main oil market of the city. It was the beating heart of Roman Athens.
The monumental western entrance to the agora at the Gate of Athena Archegetis confirms who sponsored the building of the gate and agora with the following inscription:
The People of Athens from the donations offered by Gaius Julius Caesar the God and the Reverend Emperor son of God To Athena Archegetis, on behalf of the soldiers of Eukles from Marathon, who curated it on behalf of his father Herod and who was also an ambassador under the archon Nicias, son of Sarapion, from the demos of Athmonon
Of course, it was dedicated to Athena as the patron goddess of the city, and because it was Athena who had given Athens the olive tree, and hence the all-important olive oil which was sold in the agora.
The importance of the Roman agora as Athens’ main oil market during the Roman period is also reinforced by the inscription bearing Hadrian’s olive oil law on the doorway of the agora which outlined taxes and fines for false declarations of the production, export, or sale of olive oil there.
Atop the Gate of Athena Archegetis was an equestrian statue of Lucius Caesar, the grandson of Emperor Augustus.
The Roman Agora of Athens consisted of a large paved, open-air courtyard that was surrounded by colonnades of white and grey marble from Penteli and Hymettos. The colonnades were covered and had spaces for shops and merchants selling various goods, storerooms, the offices of the market, and a fountain.
There were two propylaea, including the Gate of Athena Archegetis at the west end, and another propylon at the east end. Both entrances aligned with the ancient roads at either side.
The ‘South Colonnade’ with the remains of the fountains and agora offices on the left
Today, about a third of the north side of the Roman Agora lies beneath the modern streets and buildings, but the south colonnade remains largely intact. Remains, including inscriptions on columns, show that parts of the colonnade were set aside for specific merchants such as oil merchants or butchers. In some of the surviving stylobates, there are also round cavities of varying sizes in the marble that are supposed to have been used to measure out goods.
In the middle of the south colonnade, there was also a fountain with two cisterns at different levels. This was fed from springs on the north slope of the Acropolis just to the south. Also in this location were the market offices where citizens and merchants could pay taxes and take care of other business.
When there was heavy rain, the large court of the agora had an open air drain which allowed for runoff to be carried underground and diverted to the Eridanos River.
Tower of the Winds behind the eastern propylon of the agora
The Roman Agora today is, perhaps, most famous for what is known as the ‘Tower of the Winds’.
This octagonal structure, located just outside the eastern wall of the Roman Agora, contained the horologion built by the astronomer, Andronikos Kyrestes, in the mid 1st century B.C.
The Roman architect, Vitruvius, wrote about the tower in his work De Architectura…
…those who have inquired more diligently lay down that there are eight (winds): especially indeed Andronikos of Kyrrhos, who also, as an example, built at Athens an octagonal marble tower, and, on the several sides of the octagon, had representations of the winds carved to face their currents. And above that tower he caused to be made a marble upright, and above it he placed a bronze Triton holding a rod in his right hand. He so contrived that it was driven round by the wind, and always faced the current of air, and held the rod as indicator above the representation of the wind blowing.
(Vitruvius, De Architectura, c. 20s B.C.)
The Tower of the Winds is said to be the oldest meteorological station in the world with sundials on the exterior, a hydraulic clock inside, and its bronze weather vane on top indicating the eight winds which is thought to have allowed merchants in the agora to know the winds and estimate the arrival of shipments coming from the port of Piraeus.
Lastly, a few steps from the Tower of the Winds, also just outside the main precinct of the Roman Agora was a large public latrine, or vespasianae, with openings on four sides with a small court for ventilation.
The Roman Agora and the large precinct of the great Library of Hadrian beside it made this area the main administrative centre of the city of Athens, supplanting the classical agora in this role, especially after the Herulian invasion of Athens in A.D. 267.
Adam exploring the Roman Agora
As stated, this was not my first time visiting the Roman Agora of Athens. The site has also appeared in the #1 bestselling Eagles and Dragons series prequel novel, A Dragon Among the Eagles. However, each time I go, it is with a different purpose and perspective. This time, it was to research it as a setting in the next Etrurian Players book.
We left our home in Pangrati early so as to try and beat the heat, and because archaeological sites were closing from 11 a.m. – 4 p.m. during the heatwave. Nevertheless, when we arrived it was a scorching 45 degrees Celsius with no intact colonnades to hide beneath as they would have had when the agora was whole.
After making our way through the crammed alleyways of Plaka and Monastiraki, we purchased our tickets at the office across the street and made our way in beside the Gate of Athena Archegetis.
Remains on-site
Once you enter, you are struck by the expanse of the open courtyard of the agora, even though a large portion of it is covered by the streets and buildings to your left. From there, you make your way along the remains of the south colonnade. Here, there are numerous column capitals, a sarcophagus, and other artifacts lying in the parched grass beneath palms where the resident cats and lizards doze and scurry.
As I walked, I could almost hear the crowds of the market around me, the sounds of the merchants selling their wares. I could imagine the tang of the olive oil in my nostrils. The marble courtyard must have been blinding in the midday sun, but one has to imagine that most of the shops would have closed by the sixth hour of daylight for the afternoon rest, as the Greeks and Romans were wont to do.
Site of fountain in the Roman Agora
We walked past the fountain and the remains of offices in the middle of the south colonnade and, at the end, found the carved hollows in the stylobate where merchants measured (fairly, one hopes!) out products such as grain or beans.
From there, the small forest of columns and a staircase indicate that you have reached the eastern propylon, the monumental entrance on the other side of the agora. As you walk up the stairs, you are keenly aware of the presence of what is the focal point of the archaeological site: The Tower of the Winds.
The Tower of the Winds – the oldest meteorological station in the world
The Tower of the Winds is a mesmerizing monument, as simple as it is. But one cannot take one’s eyes off of the images of the winds portrayed about the top. The smooth, white marble surface is beautiful, the lines of the sundials faintly visible.
One can imagine the citizens of ancient Athens walking up to it to check the time, the same as some do today with modern clock towers on some city halls. But this was the heart of Roman Athens, and so this meteorological monument was a fitting addition to this ancient gathering place.
Interior floor of the Tower of the Winds which held the mechanism of the water clock of the horologion
After exploring the area around the Tower of the Winds, including the vespasianae, the public latrine, we walked back across the open space of the great courtyard, taking time to pause.
I imagined this vast, ancient market place bustling with life, filled with people, with myriad things for sale, and the scenes of my novel that I was searching for began to take shape. I could see a beautiful comedic chaos unfolding!
For a writer of historical fiction, the city of Athens is a dream come true, for the bones of the ancient world are still there to see, to feel, and to inspire.
As the heat reached a literal fever pitch, I was finished with my research for the day and sought the nearest taverna for a cold drink in the shade, something which the Greeks and Romans would gladly have done at that time of day.
Thank you for reading.
Be sure to check out the video of our tour of The Roman Agora of Athens in order to experience this site for yourself. You can view it below, or visit the Eagles and Dragons Publishing YouTube channel by CLICKING HERE.
For some excellent digital recreations of the Roman Agora of Athens, check out the very skilled work of the folks at Ancient Athens 3D HERE.
Is this statement of Aristotle’s correct? Perhaps it was in ancient Greece when the Persians were invading the lands of the Hellenes, murdering and enslaving them. It might even have been true in the smaller world of the Greek homeland when one neighbouring city-state overstepped and boundaries for the relationship needed to be re-established.
This is a very simplistic way of looking at it. War was part of life in the ancient world and a good city-state, and its citizens, were prepared for war if the need should arise.
Perhaps the better question to ask ourselves in regard to Aristotle’s words above is this:
Is this still true today?
Do we still make war that we may live in peace? Or do we make war for other reasons? And who is the ‘We’ in all of this?
As November 11th approaches and we rightly honour the sacrifices of our men and women in uniform, past and present, on Remembrance Day and Veterans Day, questions of war are front of mind for many of us.
I’ve been thinking about writing a post like this for some time now. Let’s face it, it’s not an easy topic, and many are divided. This is more of a thought process post in which we will take a brief look at what ancient democracies and republics did when it came to the decision to go to war, and whether we can learn anything from them today.
Sadly, I can’t recall a time when there wasn’t some terrible conflict choking the screens of our televisions, or drowning the feeds of our social media platforms. Tragically,it seems that our world is at a terrible tipping point.
It seems like ‘we’ are addicted to war.
Again, I ask, who is the ‘We’ in that statement? Here is another statement from Aristotle for us to consider as we wade through the weedy terrain of this topic:
We are what we repeatedly do.
Aristotle
Ancient Greek Hoplites in Battle
The history of ancient democracies is marked by a fascinating interplay between citizen participation and the conduct of foreign affairs, particularly in matters of war. These early democratic societies grappled with the ethical and practical complexities of deciding whether to go to war against their enemies. The concept of “war by the people, for the people” was not only a foundational principle but also a challenging moral and strategic puzzle.
Let’s explore briefly the decision-making processes and the moral considerations that ancient democratic civilizations such as Athens and the Roman Republic confronted when deciding whether to wage war.
View of the Acropolis of Athens from the Pnyx, site of the Athenian Assembly
The Athenian Democracy
The Athenian democracy, which emerged in the 5th century BCE, is often hailed as a pioneering model of citizen participation in governance. At the heart of Athenian democracy was the Ekklesia, an assembly of free male citizens who could propose and vote on laws, including decisions related to war and peace. Thucydides, the ancient historian, captures the essence of Athenian democracy in his account of the Peloponnesian War:
Pericles… declared that a man who took no interest in public affairs was not a quiet, unoffending citizen, but a useless one. In one word, he conceived that they were born to serve the state, not only in matters great and high, but in the least and lowest also.
(Thucydides – History of the Peloponnesian War)
It is interesting to note that in ancient Greece, the word idiota referred to someone who refrained from participation in public life, who chose not to take part in the decisions that affected the democracy itself.
In ancient Athens, male citizens were expected serve the state, not only by serving the requiredminimum of two years in the military, but also by voting and putting forth an opinion on matters great and small, including the decision to go to war.
Are citizens’ voices and opinions held in such high regard today?
Let’s leave that particular question hanging for the moment.
Artist impression of a meeting of the Athenian Assembly on the Pnyx
In the Ekklesia of ancient Athens, the moral dilemma of whether to undertake a certain action or policy, including whether or not to go to war, was expected to be strongly considered by the citizens of the assembly, the citizens of Athens.
However, this empowerment of citizens in the decision-making process came with its own dilemma. Athens faced a delicate balance between the pursuit of its interests and the ethical considerations of war. As Thucydides continues:
…a reason for attacking a neighbour; they thought it equitable to keep what they held and weak to give up anything, and it was more disgraceful to lose anything once possessed than not to have gained at all.
(Thucydides – History of the Peloponnesian War)
This statement will, of course, sting when it comes to the conflicts currently happening in parts of the world, as it should. However, when it comes to imperialistic tendencies, the moral dilemma behind this statement stings all the more.
If a country has what it has always had, if it has not been attacked, should it still go to war?
There is was definite tension between self-interest and moral principles in Athenian democracy. The Ekklesia had the power to decide on war, but it was not always clear whether the decision was driven by strategic necessity or imperial ambition.
Most citizens of the Greek city-states agreed that the war against Persia had to be waged. It was about survival, about ‘freedom or death’, a phrase that is ingrained in the Greek psyche to this day. Could the same be said of the Peloponnesian conflict?
Pericles’ funeral oration for Athenian dead of Peloponnesian War.
Wars have dire consequences on both sides of the conflict, so why do ‘we’ seem to be so willing to engage in them?
In ancient Athens, the people had a voice, or at least they were supposed to. Here are some specific examples of confrontations in ancient Athens in which the decision to go to war was hotly debated by the citizenry:
The Peloponnesian War (431-404 BCE) – Athens vs. Sparta
The outbreak of the Peloponnesian War between Athens and Sparta was met with significant debate in the Athenian Ekklesia. The statesman Pericles argued in favour of a defensive strategy, urging the Athenians to retreat behind the city’s walls and rely on their navy which was the strongest in the world at the time. However, there was public opposition to this strategy, with some advocating for a more aggressive stance.
Ultimately, the Athenian assembly decided to follow Pericles’ strategy, leading to the construction of the Long Walls that connected Athens to its port, Piraeus. Still, at various points during the Peloponnesian War, there were instances of public opposition to the conflict, particularly in Athens. The war’s prolonged nature and the suffering of the Athenian population led to widespread dissatisfaction.
The war, marked by several debates and shifts in strategies, eventually ended with the defeat of Athens in 404 BCE.
The Sicilian Expedition (415-413 BCE) – Athens vs. Syracuse
The Sicilian Expedition was a controversial military campaign proposed by the Athenian general Alcibiades not only against Sparta, but this time also against Corinth and Syracuse. Many Athenians were initially opposed to it due to its immense cost and risks.
Again, there was much debate in the Ekklesia of Athens with the young, arrogant Alcibiades pushing for war. In opposition to him, the commander, Nicias, debated that Athens should not go to war in Sicily, that they would be leaving powerful enemies at their backs as the war still raged in Greece. Nicias also tried to warn the assembly that Alcibiades and his proponents wanted to lead Athens into war for their own ends.
Despite public opposition and concerns, the Athenian assembly eventually approved the expedition. Unfortunately for Nicias, and for Athens, two hundred ships and thousands of soldiers were sent to Sicily, and they were all lost. Athens had spread itself too thinly and its, (and Alcibiades’) ‘imperial hubris’ were the death stroke for Athens.
The Sicilian Expedition ended in a catastrophic failure, with the Athenian fleet and forces suffering heavy losses, which significantly weakened Athens in the Peloponnesian War.
The Peloponnesian War and the Sicilian Expedition both had severe, negative impacts on both Athens and Sparta. Athens experienced a devastating plague that decimated its population, and the conflict drained its treasury. In Sparta, the prolonged war created economic hardships, and the agricultural land was ravaged. Ultimately, the war resulted in the eventual defeat and decline of Athens, but left both city-states significantly weakened.
In these prolonged conflicts one could say that both sides ‘lost’, for the winner and the loser both paid heavy prices.
Was the Athenian citizenry swayed by false promises and flowery rhetoric? Probably.
Painting depicting Cicero speaking out in the Senate
The Roman Republic
In the Roman Republic, a different form of democratic governance emerged. Power was divided between the Senate, an aristocratic body of elders, and various popular assemblies in which Roman citizens could vote on key matters. The Roman Republic’s decision to go to war was often a complex interplay between the Senate and the Popular Assemblies.
This form of government is more akin to our modern democracies than that of ancient Athens where citizens had the opportunity to speak for themselves in the assembly and to vote directly on decisions.
When it came to debates in the Roman Senate about decisions to go to war, few could argue so eloquently as the Roman statesman and philosopher, Cicero. He grappled with the ethical dimensions of war in his writings. In his work De Officiis (On Duties), he discusses the moral principles that should guide leaders in deciding whether to wage war:
[W]e must consider not only the honesty and justice of going to war, but also the ways and means of conducting it… Above all, nothing is more disgraceful than to be eager to make war, but without taking proper precautions.
(Marcus Tullius Cicero, On Duties)
Cicero’s emphasis on the necessity of just cause and proportionality in warfare reflects the moral concerns that were at the heart of Roman deliberations. He wasn’t against war, but strongly emphasized careful consideration of what it meant, the cost to the Republic and its citizens, as well as proper preparation if the decision to go to war was taken.
In the history of Rome, there were numerous wars and conflicts that were hotly debated and pushed for by various factions in the Senate and Popular Assemblies. Here are a couple of examples…
The Roman Invasion of Carthage (149-146 BCE) – Roman Republic vs. Carthage
When it came to the third Punic War which followed the defeat of Hannibal in the second, the Roman Senate was divided over whether to fight Carthage once more. Prominent senators like Cato the Elder argued passionately for the destruction of Carthage, citing it as a long-term threat to Rome. He was so eager for the destruction of Carthage that it is said that he ended nearly every speech in the Senate with Carthago delenda est – “Carthage must be destroyed”.
However, others were more cautious, as Carthage posed no immediate danger, having been thoroughly trounced at the Battle of Zama.
Despite opposition to the war – for the Roman people had suffered greatly in the previous one with Hannibal arriving at the gates of Rome itself – the Roman Senate ultimately declared war on Carthage and the Third Punic War began. The conflict ended with the complete destruction of Carthage in 146 BCE, symbolized by the razing of the city, the apparent salting of the surrounding earth, and the enslavement of its population. Rome may have won that particular war, but at what cost to the Roman people?
The Roman Civil Wars (1st Century BCE) – Various Factions
The final years of the Roman Republic were marked by intense political and military conflicts among various factions, including the Populares and the Optimates. Key figures like Julius Caesar, Pompey, and Cicero were involved in debates over the course of action. Cicero, for instance, consistently advocated for the preservation of the Republic through peaceful means. He loved the Republic, and did not want to see it destroyed.
The aim of a ship’s captain is a successful voyage; a doctor’s, health; a general’s, victory. So the aim of our ideal statesman is the citizens’ happy life–that is, a life secure in wealth, rich in resources, abundant in renown, and honourable in its moral character. That is the task which I wish him to accomplish–the greatest and best that any man can have.
(Marcus Tullius Cicero, On the Republic / On the Laws)
Unfortunately for the Roman people, the prolonged civil war that came out of the debates brought about political instability, economic hardships, and military conscription, which took a toll on the Roman populace. The social fabric of Rome was torn asunder, and the eventual victory of Julius Caesar marked the end of the Republic and the beginning of the Roman Empire, with centralized imperial rule replacing the traditional republican system.
Cicero had been justified in his concern about the erosion of the Republic’s institutions.
In both the examples of the Third Punic War and the Civil Wars, the disregard for public opposition to war by political leaders had serious repercussions. These instances serve as cautionary tales, highlighting the consequences of leaders pursuing their agendas despite significant public resistance, ultimately leading to significant upheaval and societal change.
Civil War
This is a vastly complicated topic, and we have but scratched the surface of the armour here. We’ve only looked at a few examples out of many in the history of Greece and Rome.
Comparing the Athenian and Roman models of democracy reveals striking differences in their approaches to war. Athens embraced a more direct form of democracy, where the citizens themselves decided on matters of war. This often led to rapid and aggressive military actions. In contrast, the Roman Republic, with its complex system of checks and balances, tended to approach war with more caution, as reflected in Cicero’s moral reflections. Still, were the wishes of Rome’s citizens carefully considered? Was Cicero facing a tidal wave of opposition, or were the greedy motives of a few what brought war to the Roman people once again?
Both Athens and Rome grappled with moral considerations when deciding whether to wage war. Pericles’ assertion of civic duty in Athens and Cicero’s ethical principles in Rome demonstrate that moral discourse was intrinsic to these ancient democracies. However, both models were not infallible. One could say that the Athenian democratic and Roman Republican models allowed for debate, but were also prone to more impulsive decisions driven by self-interest.
Artist impression of the Second Macedonian War
Ancient democracies navigated the intricate path of deciding whether to wage war against their enemies. These societies, though distinct in their democratic structures, were united in their commitment to deliberating the ethical dimensions of warfare.
The tension between self-interest and moral principles was an enduring challenge, reflecting the enduring complexity of democratic decision-making.
As we reflect on these historical examples, we are reminded that the dilemma of whether to go to war or not remains a pressing concern in contemporary democracies. The lessons of the past offer valuable insights into the delicate balance between the will of the people and the moral and strategic imperatives that underpin the decision to wage war. Ancient democracies can serve as a source of inspiration and contemplation as we grapple with the challenges of our own time.
Modern politicians would do well to mind what history has taught us.
Public opposition and debates were common, reflecting the diversity of opinions within these societies. The outcomes varied, often with significant consequences for the states involved.
Certainly, there were instances in ancient Greece and Rome where the people were strongly opposed to going to war, but politicians ignored their concerns and pursued military campaigns regardless. These wars often had negative impacts on the populations involved, and this is not relegated to the distant past, but has indeed played out in the modern era.
Vietnam War
Here are some examples:
The Vietnam War (1955-1975) – This conflict had devastating consequences for both the United States and Vietnam. It resulted in a high death toll, significant economic expenditure, and a deeply divided American society. The war also led to environmental damage due to the widespread use of defoliants like Agent Orange.
In the case of the Vietnam War, American politicians faced widespread public opposition, with anti-war protests, draft dodging, and disillusionment among the youth. The negative impact of the war, both in terms of lives lost and economic burden, weighed heavily on subsequent administrations. The war’s unpopularity played a role in the electoral defeat of President Lyndon B. Johnson and influenced the 1972 presidential election.
The Iraq War (2003-2011) – This war had profound negative consequences. It destabilized the region, led to the loss of thousands of lives, and incurred substantial financial costs. The war’s aftermath saw the rise of extremist groups and sectarian violence, contributing to regional instability that persists to this day.
The Iraq War faced significant public opposition, and politicians who supported it faced criticism. The war’s costs, both in terms of lives and resources, contributed to declining public support and played a role in the 2008 presidential election, where the Iraq War was a key issue.
The Afghanistan War (2001-2021) – This was America’s longest conflict, and it had significant negative consequences. It resulted in a protracted and costly military engagement, with a high human toll. Despite initial objectives to combat terrorism, Afghanistan remained politically unstable, and the Taliban regained control following the U.S. withdrawal in 2021.
The Afghanistan War eroded public support over time and, one could say, the global good will toward the U.S. after 9/11 was ultimately squandered by the drawn out conflict. Politicians who advocated for continued military involvement often faced scrutiny, and the war’s unpopularity became a factor in subsequent elections.
American troops in Afghanistan
Again, these are just a few examples of wars, but it is worth asking: Are they worth the human, financial, and societal costs?
Perhaps modern politicians should listen more closely to public opinion, and take a more ‘Ciceronian’ approach to war when assessing the costs and consequences of going to war? There should be a robust debate. Should any one person make the decision to go to war? I would say there is too much at stake to allow that.
Citizens of modern democracies are led to believe that politicians encourage open and robust debates on matters of war and conflict. Do they?
Public discourse and debate can help weigh the pros and cons, ensuring that decisions are well-informed and scrutinized. Does that happen?
Do you think that diplomacy and conflict resolution should be prioritized whenever possible?
Do you believe that war should be a last resort, and politicians should exhaust all diplomatic avenues before considering military action?
Again, we come back to one of the questions asked at the outset: Are citizens’ voices and opinions on these matters held in such high regard today as they were, say, in ancient Athens?
In ancient democracies, the people had avenues to express their wishes in matters of war, but do we truly have that today? Do the people’s wishes truly matter? Are our politicians simply taking the ‘easy’ way out?
It is more difficult to organize a peace than to win a war; but the fruits of victorywill be lost if the peace is not organized.
Aristotle
The Voice of the People
I realize that our modern western democracies are enormous, covering continents in some instances. It is impossible for all citizens to gather in one place to debate, discuss, and vote as the Athenians did on the Pnyx in ancient Athens, or as the Roman people did on the Field of Mars or in the Forum Romanum.
Today, the people have their elected representatives speaking for them, be it in the House of Commons, or the in the Senate. The decisions taken in these bodies affect everyone.
The question now is, do you, as a citizen feel like your representatives in the Commons or Senate hear you and consider your own wishes and needs? When it comes to the deeply serious moral dilemma of whether or not our democracies should go to war, are the citizenry being listened to?
What would the world be like if all of our politicians were as thoughtful as Cicero, for example, when it came to matters of war and its consequences?
In some of the examples above, we’ve seen what happens when the citizenry is ignored. So today, we need to ask ourselves that if the will of the majority, of the people, is not being taken into account when it comes to the decisions that impact our way of life, our world, our very lives, is change required? Is the system of government broken? Have the elected representatives in our democracies lost sight of the true nature and purpose of those same democracies?
History seems to be repeating itself, and not in a good way.
Is it time for the citizenry to reassert its voice? Should there be virtual referendums when it comes to the decision of going to war?
I, like many of you, have many questions and doubts. But I do know this: Democracy may not be a perfect or fool-proof system, but it is (or at least it should be) at its core, more honest and fair.
Maybe we just need more Ciceros.
Thank you for reading.
This Remembrance Day and Veterans Day, Eagles and Dragons Publishing is, as always, grateful to our men and women in uniform who risk their lives to keep us all safe at home and abroad. We are proud to have made contributions to the causes of the following charities: Royal Canadian Legion Poppy Campaign, War Child Canada, and Wounded Warriors Canada.
Today we’ve got a new video tour that will transport you back in time to one of the greatest volcanic eruptions in the world’s history: the Minoan Eruption of Thera (Santorini).
This past summer, we had the wonderful opportunity to tour the archaeological site and it was, to be honest, quite a moving experience.
As we walked around, we forgot about the heat and the crowds around us. Our thoughts were solely of the Minoans, the people who had inhabited ancient Akrotiri. We wandered the ruins of this advanced, ancient civilization, looking at their homes, their streets, the pottery, and the walls that were adorned by some of the most beautiful frescoes ever discovered.
The ‘Spring Fresco’ from Akrotiri (National Archaeological Museum)
This is an ancient ghost town, a place that was once full of life, and art, and song, but which is now covered by layer upon layer of volcanic rock and ash.
In this short video, you will experience the excavations up close and personal to see how archaeologists have, over the years, brought Akrotiri back into the light.
For those of you who have not read it, be sure to check out our previous blog post Ghosts of Akrotiri by CLICKING HERE.
And so, without further ado, Eagles and Dragons Publishing presents our newest mini documentary Ancient Akrotiri: A Short Tour.
This week on Writing the Past, we have a special post to share with you.
This past summer, after twenty-two years, we were finally able to make a return trip to the Greek island of Santorini to visit the archaeological site of ancient Akrotiri.
It was a magical journey to a place that has not changed in thousands of years, on an island that has, in a way, changed a great deal.
Today, we want to share a bit of our adventure with you…
Santorini from Space (photo: Nasa Earth Observatory)
It is no secret that we visit Greece often. It is our other home and the place where most of our family is located. While we have our usual haunts, we do try to visit different places and islands whenever we are there.
This year, our family voted to go back to the Cyclades, that magical, swirl of rocky islands almost smack dab in the middle of the Aegean Sea. When one thinks of the Cyclades, one thinks of rocky shores dotted with whitewashed buildings with blue trim, brilliantly-clear turquoise beaches, and sunsets so beautiful they burn into your memory forever.
This group of islands set in the midst of Homer’s eternal wine-dark sea, is a place of gods and goddesses, of myth, and of legend.
When one thinks of the Cyclades, or the Greek Islands in general, it is no great surprise that the island that most often comes to mind is Santorini, and that is the island our family decided on.
When we began planning our Aegean odyssey last winter, it quickly became apparent that things had changed in the last twenty-plus years since we had last been there, mainly the prices.
The first step was to book our ferry tickets out of the ancient port of Piraeus, and herein was our first surprise. Whereas twenty years ago one could get ferry tickets to Santorini for around $40.00, we were shocked to see that the average cost now was closer to $200.00 per person!
After searching for some time, we found a better price and jumped on the tickets quickly as the ships were already selling out out. (CLICK HERE to see how we found the best deal).
Tickets in hand (plane and ferry), all that was left was to wait until summer. It was a long wait, but eventually, the time came for us to board.
Boarding Minoan Lines’ ‘Santorini Palace’ ship
When we arrived in Athena’s beautiful polis, it was in the midst of a heatwave in which temperatures hovered around 45 degrees Celsius! Let us just say that, in Athens, without air conditioning, that is hotter than Hades!
After four scorching days, it was time to board our Minoan Lines ferry at Piraeus, which we did after a tense taxi ride in which the driver seemed to be battling an army of tourists doing the exact same thing. It was as if the heat was driving everyone out of the city into the Aegean’s embrace.
Eventually, perspiring in the extreme from the outset, we found our ship, lugged our suitcases into the hold, found our seats, and settled in for the eight hour trip to our destination.
There is something special about sailing on the Aegean, a feeling one gets that is difficult to explain, but is inevitably brought about by that vast blue expanse.
Perhaps it is the fact that theOdyssey is so ingrained in our western psyche that there is an immediate sense of adventure, or even of impending danger around the next ‘corner’ of the journey? Or maybe it’s just the gentle lulling one experiences when immersed in myriad shades of blue beneath an Aegean sun.
Whatever it is that weaves a spell, as we reclined in our seats, the ship riding the waves like Poseidon’s hippocampus, we thought on the things we wanted to do during our three day sojourn on Santorini. Of course, eating as the sun set, swimming, and a bit of shopping were on the list, but top of mind for the history-lovers among us was our visit to the archaeological site of ancient Akrotiri.
Minoan Boxers and the Saffron Gatherer, from Akrotiri
For those of you who may not be familiar with the history of Santorini (or ancient ‘Thera’ or ‘Calliste’ as it was called in the ancient world), the island was part of the Minoan civilization that was based on the island of Crete. Minoan civilization is often considered the earliest in Europe, and the Minoans themselves were highly advanced and traded all over the Mediterranean. They excelled in in art and architecture, though they also manufactured weapons.
This beautiful civilization, whose influence was felt across the Mediterranean world, existed from about 3100 B.C. to roughly 1100 B.C. when they were finally overrun but the much more warlike Mycenaeans. It was in the midst of this long period of existence that Minoan civilization experienced one of the most devastating natural disasters in human history – the Minoan Eruption at Thera.
Santorini’s Port and the Caldera
The eruption of the volcano of ancient Thera, which occurred sometime between 1600 and 1500 B.C., was catastrophic and is thought to have been one of the largest volcanic events to have ever occurred on Earth. It completely destroyed the island of Thera and the Minoan settlement of Akrotiri which was buried under layer upon layer of rock and ash. As a result of this cataclysmic eruption there were earthquakes, tsunamis, and mega-tsunamis that even destroyed parts of Minoan civilization on Crete far to the south.
The island of Thera, which was once whole, was blown to bits giving it the now-familiar crescent shaped outline we know today with the still-active volcano sleeping menacingly in the middle of the caldera.
The Minoan settlement of Akrotiri had been silenced forever after that eruption.
It is said that Akrotiri is the ‘Pompeii’ of Greece, but in reality the eruption was much worse. It is believed that the Minoan eruption at Thera was one-hundred times more powerful that the eruption of Vesuvius which destroyed Pompeii.
This ancient island of dangerous beauty was our destination as our ferry cut its way across the Aegean from the mainland, and while my mind wandered back in time to my previous visits to the island, our ship stopped at other islands en route.
Syros, Mykonos, Paros, and Naxos all teased us with their cliffs and beaches, their rocky shores surrounded by winking waves, all of them beautiful, and unique, and tempting. It is one of the joys of travelling by ship on the Aegean that one gets to see other islands along the way to your destination.
However, as Santorini came into view through the heat and sea haze, we were quickly reminded of how different it truly is from other islands.
Santorini’s Cliffs
Even approaching on a decent-sized ship, one feels small sailing up to Santorini with its red, black, and tan cliffs towering over you, topped by the whitewashed towns of Fira and Oia. You want to immediately disembark, to get to the top of the island and peer out over the world, but there is one thing that draws the attention away as you approach: the volcano.
Like a black, sleeping Titan in the midst of the deep caldera, you are acutely aware of the dark force that destroyed Akrotiri and the Minoan settlements on Thera. You are ever aware – once you find out – that the volcano is still alive.
That is something that rests at the back of your mind during your stay on this mysterious island.
Cruise ships around the volcano
As we said before, while some things on this ancient island have remained the same for thousands of years, other things on Santorini have changed a great deal. For us, this was quite evident in the costs of, well, everything!
Santorini is not an island for budget travellers, and it took some searching to find a hotel that did not cost more than the Golden Fleece. Thankfully, we succeeded in finding a welcoming roof that was centrally-located at the Nautilus Dome Hotel (CLICK HERE for a full review of this lovely hotel).
After the shock of disembarking into the chaos of Santorini’s port, we found our shuttle to the hotel and quickly got out, the car taking the long, switchback road up the cliff face to the summit.
The Nautilus Dome welcomed us with beautiful surroundings accented with bougainvillea and palms rustled by the hot Aegean breeze and views of the sea and caldera on two sides, the hilltop village of Megalochori on another, and Fira where it lay baking in the cliff-top sun on the other.
Entrance to the Nautilus Dome Hotel
After settling into our accommodation, it was time to head into Fira town for an evening of food, wine, and browsing the shops. The next morning we were scheduled to visit the archaeological site, and we went to sleep beneath a star-pocked sky, thinking of walking the long-silent streets of Akrotiri.
When morning came, it was bright and breezy, and the heat settled on that rocky landscape early in the day. We had a hearty breakfast, gathered our gear, and set out for Akrotiri.
Santorini Sunrise
When visiting Santorini, some people chose to rent a car or scooter or ATV, but we have always found that the buses are very reliable, and that they get you everywhere you want to go, including the archaeological site. The fare is only about two Euros per adult, so it is also affordable.
While riding the bus through various villages, one also notices how desolate the landscape is. This island is volcanic and very little grows here other than the famous grape vines used to make Santorini’s Assyrtiko wine, something that has been done for over 3,500 years.
One notices these strange, low vines that look more like bushes everywhere one goes on the island. They fill every field and backyard and, though they are ever-present, the yield is quite low, a major factor, we were told, in the high cost of Santorini wines.
When we arrived at the bus stop outside the ticket office for Akrotiri, our eyes were met with a blinding light and radiating heat that both seemed to be amplified by the rocky landscape where natural shade is a rarity.
Entrance to the archaeological site of Akrotiri
Fortunately for us, and perhaps unfortunately in a way, there were not many tourists heading to the archaeological site, most people opting to head from the bus stop to the nearby ‘Red Beach’ for the day.
Our footsteps, however, led us up the path to the archaeological site which is, thank the gods, covered and enclosed.
As we stepped from the blaze of Helios’ chariot outside into the dark silence of Akrotiri’s remains, a silence fell that is somewhat inexplicable.
Akrotiri is an ancient ghost town.
Main street of archaeological site
To visit ancient Akrotiri today is to be touched by a deep sadness. You ask yourself What happened here? though you well know the answer. You feel an affinity for the people who lived here, who shopped along those silent streets, who raised families, who ran their businesses or traded with others from across the sea.
As we walked around the perimeter of the excavations, peering down into the houses, buildings, and streets, admiring the remains of beautifully-decorated amphorae from the modern walkways, our imaginations could not help but hear the screams of the Minoans there, of men, women, and children who realized their world was coming to an end.
The sleeping Titan among them was awakening.
Minoan ship procession from Akrotiri
Unlike Pompeii however, the population of which Vesuvius destroyed so violently, so absolutely, no human remains have been found at ancient Akrotiri. Not a single body buried beneath the layers of rock and ash.
Akrotiri is a tomb without remains.
As one walks around the deserted settlement, it is something of a comfort to know that the Minoans of Akrotiri seemed to have had enough warning to be able to perform an orderly evacuation of the island before the eruption.
Whether their great sailing ships escaped the subsequent tsunamis, we do not know. Perhaps the people of Akrotiri went to the bottom of Poseidon’s sea, or perhaps they escaped to Crete, or to other friendly shores. No one knows for certain. It is one of those ancient mysteries we will never really know the answer to.
Storage amphorae at Akrotiri
Walking around the archaeological site, after one comes to terms with the tragedy and magnitude of what happened to the island, to the settlement of Akrotiri, you then begin to notice the details of the settlement.
Akrotiri was indeed an advanced civilization. From the walkways we could see two and three-storey buildings and homes. There are the remains of toilets, and drainage systems, and sewers. There was ventilation in homes to allow for cooling during the Mediterranean summer. They had ways of keeping their food properly stored so as to preserve it.
And there was art, oh yes…
The ‘Spring Fresco’ from Akrotiri (National Archaeological Museum)
Perhaps some of the most beautiful pieces of art from the ancient world are from Minoan civilization, and from Akrotiri itself. The homes of the people of Akrotiri were richly decorated with frescoes exploding in colour, displaying plant and wildlife, the people, and their seafaring world. Many of these frescoes are on display in the new museum in the main town of Fira, and at the National Archaeological Museum in Athens.
Whether Akrotiri was the doomed civilization of ‘Atlantis’ mentioned by Plato, as some scholars have supposed, we cannot say for certain (another ancient mystery!).
What we can say for certain, however, is that the Minoan settlement of Akrotiri was part of a beautiful, advanced civilization that met a sudden and terrible end.
As we finished our walk around the archaeological site, imagining what life might have been like there, mesmerized by the beauty of a Minoan house as recreated in a short video beside that very house, a strange feeling came over us. It was something that cannot really be explained.
That silence returned, a deep and eerie silence. The hum of tourist voices and fans seemed to turn to wind blowing through the main street of Akrotiri, pushing dust through thresholds and off of windowsills where people once peered down to the street below.
Though nobody seems to have perished at Akrotiri during the eruption of Thera, it still feels like a place of ghosts.
Minoan people lived here, they loved, they laughed, they worked, they created works of art, and when life happens in a place, that leaves an imprint on that place, and on time itself.
Ancient Akrotiri is indeed a place of ghosts, but also a place of vibrant life.
We were reminded of that on our return journey there.
As we stepped back out into the bright light of day, Helios’ chariot now high in the far-blue Aegean sky, we wondered what the great Minoan eruption of Thera must have felt like for the people of Akrotiri. Certainly the gods must have been angry with them for, as history teaches us, no civilization is without fault or hubris.
Then we remembered that the Titan that destroyed the island was yet sleeping in the caldera of Santorini very near to us, and we pushed the thought away, not wanting to wake it.
Hot and overwhelmed by what we had seen, we joined the long train of people making their way to the nearby ‘Red Beach’. It was time to cool off in the sea beneath rich red volcanic cliffs, to rest and reflect in that desolate landscape now packed with masses of spendthrift tourists.
The world of the Minoans of Akrotiri, their homes, their art and artifacts, and their end still haunt us.
We may never return to Santorini, that ancient island of Thera, but we will be thinking of Akrotiri’s silent, ancient streets for years to come…
Thank you for reading.
Santorini Sunset
Coming Soon!
Eagles and Dragons Publishing will be releasing a video tour of Ancient Akrotiri soon, so be sure to subscribe to our YouTube Channel so that you don’t miss it.
(Insert picture of Mug)
Inspired by ancient Akrotiri and the art of the Minoans, Eagles and Dragons Publishing has also released a limited edition mug and bag bearing one of our favourite pieces of Minoan art, the ‘Minoan Birds’.
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…
Theatre of Epidaurus (photo: Dimitrios Pallis, IG @pallisd)
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!
Plan of the Theatre of Epidaurus
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.
Side entrance to the orchestra
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.
You don’t want to tumble down this aisle!
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.
Isabella Rossellini in ‘Persephone’
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.
Looking north from the theatre to the sanctuary
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.
Medical Instruments in the Epidaurus museum
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.
Stele with accounts of healing at the sanctuary, as well as quotes of the Hymn to Apollo
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.
The Museum Interior
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 from the North
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.
Asklepios
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)
Now you know where this symbol comes from!
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.
Map of the Sanctuary (from the site guide book)
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.
Reconstruction of the Temple of Asklepios’ south side (from site guide book)
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.
Remains of the Great Altar of Apollo
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.
Reconstruction of Epidaurian Tholos and Temple of Asklepios (photo reconstruction: CNN)
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.
Inside the partially restored Abato
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.
Relief of Asklepios healing a dreamer
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.
Remains of Temple of Asklepios
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.
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After a bit of a summer break, we’re back on the blog, and today we’ve got something exciting for you – a video premiere!
Some of you may have noticed on our social media accounts that we were fortunate enough to go back to Greece this summer. Amidst the pleasant chaos of visiting with family and friends we had not seen in over three years, we did manage to squeeze in a visit to a particularly wonderful archaeological site: Tiryns.
It had been about twenty years since the last time we visited this Mycenaean fortress of myth and legend, and so, armed with some new camera equipment (much gratitude to our Patreon patrons!), we were able to film a short tour of the citadel of ancient Tiryns!
We’re very excited to share this video with you.
It was wonderful to go back to this archaeological site, even on a day where it was 45 degrees celsius and the cicadas were so loud it was almost deafening!
Having already seen this site, we found that it was just as magical and awe-inspiring now as it was twenty years ago with the dry heat, the golden stones of the cyclopean walls, and the brilliant turquoise expanse of the Gulf of Argos before the distant mountains of the Peloponnese.
It was also good to see that the restoration work has come a very long way, allowing us access to areas we could not see previously, though the famed ‘East Galleria’ was sadly closed to our cameras.
