ancient history

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Ghosts of Akrotiri

Greetings History-Lovers!

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 the Odyssey 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’.

Click the image of your choice below to visit the Eagles and Dragons Publishing AGORA on Etsy for these and other gifts for history and mythology-lovers.

If you are interested in booking a trip to Santorini, check out the ‘Travel Resources’ page on the Ancient World Travel website for deals on airfare, ferry tickets, and the highly recommended hotel, Nautilus Dome.

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The World of Sincerity is a Goddess – Part VII – Doctors in the Roman Empire

Salvete Readers and Romanophiles!

Welcome back to The World of Sincerity is a Goddess, the blog series in which we delve into the research that went into the dramatic and romantic comedy of ancient Rome, Sincerity is a Goddess.

If you missed Part VI on the theatre and healing sanctuary of ancient Epidaurus, you can read that by clicking HERE.

Today, in Part VII of this blog series, we’re going to be sticking with the healing theme, only this time from the Roman perspective rather than from the Greek one, though they are related.

In this post, we’re going to be taking a look at doctors in the Roman Empire, as well as that famed centre of healing in the heart of ancient Rome, Tiber Island.

A doctor making a house call.

Going to the doctor’s office is never something one looks forward to.

For most, myself included, it gets the heart rate and stress levels up to step into a building that’s full of ‘sick people’. With our modern plague, I’m sure many of us are feeling that.

Sitting around in a waiting room with a group of scared, nervous, fidgety folks, is enough to drive you mad, and the sight of a white coat and stethoscope makes one want to run screaming from the building.

In a way, it was probably the same for our ancient Greek and Roman ancestors. Most civilians would have been loath to visit with a physician. It might not have been someone you wanted around, unless absolutely necessary.

When it comes to physicians in the Roman Empire, it has to be said that many, if not most, were Greek, and that’s because Greece was where western medicine was born. Indeed, the ancient Greeks had patron gods of health and healing in the form of Asklepios, Igeia, and sometimes Apollo.

Artist rendering of the Asklepion of Kos

The greatest medical school of the ancient world was in fact on the Aegean island of Cos, where students came from all over the Mediterranean world to learn at the great Asklepion. Hippocrates, the 5th century B.C. ‘father of medicine’, was from Cos and said to be a descendant of the god Asklepios himself.

When it comes to Roman medicine, much of it is owed to what discoveries and theories the Greeks had developed before, but with a definite Roman twist.

Hippocrates

The fusion of Greek and Roman medicine in the Roman Empire consisted of two parts: the scientific, and the religious/magical.

The more scientific thinking behind ancient medical practices is a legacy owed to the Greeks, who separated scientific learning from religion. The religious, or rather superstitious, aspects of medicine in the Roman Empire were a Roman introduction.

Because of this fusion of ideas and beliefs, you could sometimes end up with an odd assortment of treatments being prescribed.

A Roman physician blood letting (by Robert Thom, c. 1958)

To alleviate your anxiety over your new business venture, you should take three drops of this tincture before you sleep. You should also sacrifice a white goat to Janus as soon as possible.

Many Roman deities had some form of healing power so it depended on one’s patron gods, and the nature of the problem, as to which god would receive prayers or votive offerings over another. Amulets and other magical incantations would have been employed as well.

Roman surgical instruments

Romans had a god for everything, and soldiers were especially superstitious.

Much of Greek medical thought opted for practicality in the treatment of wounds, and injuries; cleaning and bandaging wounds would have been more logical than putting another talisman about the neck. That said, let us not forget the aspect if divine intervention when it came to some aspects of healing in such places as Epidaurus.

All the gods were to be honoured, but in the Greek physician’s mind they had much better things to look after than the stab wound a man received in a tavern brawl.

Battlefield medics treating wounded soldiers on Trajan’s Column

For the battlefield medicus, things must have been much simpler than for the physician who was trying to diagnose mysterious ailments for someone in the heart of Rome. They were faced mostly with physical wounds and employed all manner of surgical instruments such as probes, hooks, forceps, needles and scalpels.

Removing a barbed arrowhead from a warrior’s thigh must have required a little digging.

Of course, in the Roman world, there was no anaesthetic, so successful surgeons would have had to have been not only dexterous and accurate, but also very fast and strong. Luckily, sedatives such as opium and henbane would have helped.

Medic helping a warrior tend a wound

When it came to the treatment of wounds, a medicus would have used wine, vinegar, pitch, and turpentine as antiseptics. However, infection and gangrene would have meant amputation. The latter was probably terrifyingly frequent for soldiers, many of whom would end up begging on the streets of Rome.

It is interesting to note that medicine was one of the few professions that were open to women in the Roman Empire. Female doctors, or medicae, would also have been mainly of Greek origin, and either working with male doctors, or as midwives specializing in childbirth and women’s diseases and disorders. When it came to the army however, most doctors would have been male.

Ancient surgical instruments, including forceps

Army surgeons played a key role in spreading and improving Roman medical practice, especially in the treatment of wounds and other injuries. They also helped to gather new treatments from all over the Empire, and disseminated medical knowledge wherever the legions marched. Many of the herbs and drugs that were used in the Empire were acquired by medics who were on campaign in foreign lands.

Early on, physicians did not enjoy high status. There was no standardized training and many were Greek slaves or freedmen. This began to improve, however, when in 46 B.C. Julius Caesar granted citizenship to all those doctors who were working in the city of Rome.

This last point really hits home when it has become common knowledge that foreign doctors who come to our own countries today find themselves driving taxis or buses because they are not allowed to practice.

Modern governments, take your cue from Caesar!

Galen

One of the most famous physicians of the Roman Empire is Galen of Pergamon (A.D. 129-c.199). Galen was a Greek physician and writer who was educated at the sanctuary of Asklepios at Pergamon in Asia Minor.

After working in various cities around the Empire, Galen returned to his home town to become the doctor at the local ludus, or gladiatorial school. He grew tired of that work and moved to Rome in A.D. 162 where he gained a reputation among the elite. He subsequently became the personal physician of the Emperors Marcus Aurelius, Commodus, and for a short time, Septimius Severus.

Galen’s work and writings provided the basis of medical teaching and practice on into the seventeenth century. No doubt many an army medicus referred to Galen’s work at one point or another.

Galen is also an important character in A Dragon among the Eagles, the prequel in the Eagles and Dragon series. In the book, Galen, an old friend and colleague of Lucius Metellus’ late tutor, presents Lucius with a choice that could well change the direction of Lucius’ life. In fact and fiction, Galen is a fascinating person of history.

Re-created ancient surgical instruments

There was, of course, a difference between medical procedures that were frequently carried out on civilians in Rome versus what was needed on the battlefields of the Empire.

I’m not an expert in ancient medical history, but I do know that the level of injury on an ancient battlefield would have been staggering. The sight or sound of your unit’s medicus would have been something sent from the gods themselves.

Imagine a clash of armies – thousands of men wielding swords, spears and daggers at close quarters. Then lob some volleys of arrows into the chaos. Perhaps a charge of heavy cavalry? How about heavy artillery bolts or boulders slamming into massed ranks of men?

Roman Legionaries (illustrated by Peter Dennis)

It would have been one big, bloody, savage mess.

Apart from the usual cuts, slashes, and puncture wounds, the warriors would have suffered shattered bones, fractured skulls, lost limbs, severed arteries, sword, spear and arrow shafts that pushed through armour on into organs.

If you weren’t dead right away, you most likely would have been a short time later.

This is where the ancient field medic could have made the difference for an army. He would have been going through numerous patients in a short period of time. He would have had to decide who was a lost cause, who could no longer fight, and who could be patched up before being sent back out onto the field of slaughter.

The medicus of a Roman legion was an unsung hero whose skill was a product of accumulated centuries of knowledge, study, and experience.

Model showing Tiber Island

When it came to ancient Rome, the centre of health and healing was Tiber Island, and its foundation has a most fascinating story…

Tiber Island is a boat-shaped mass in the middle of the River Tiber where it runs through Rome. It was connected to the Field of Mars by the Pons Fabricius, and to the right bank, where modern Trastevere is, by the Pons Cestius.

The legend goes that the island was formed when, after the fall of the Etruscan tyrant, Tarquinius Superbus, in 510 B.C., the angry Romans threw his body into the Tiber where silt subsequently formed around it.

Another legend is that after the same tyrant died, the people hated him so much that they took all of his grain stores and threw it all into the river where it became the island.

Sic semper tyrannis, as the Romans would say…

Tarquinius Superbus

Whatever the reason for the creation of Tiber Island, it seems that it was, early on, a place to be avoided as it was where criminals and the terminally ill were sent.

The story gets very interesting in 293 B.C. when a great plague hit Rome.

When the plague arrived, the Senate consulted the Sibyl, the Oracle of Apollo at Cumae, who told the Romans that they should build a temple to Aesculapius (Asklepios in Greek) in the city of Rome.

A delegation of Romans was sent to Epidaurus where Aesculapius’ most famous sanctuary was located, so that they could obtain a statue of the god for the proposed temple.

The delegation also obtained one of the sacred snakes from Epidaurus.

Aesculapian Snake – zemenis longissimus (Wikimedia Commons)

The story goes that as soon as the delegation returned to their ship with the statue and sacred serpent, the snake immediately curled itself about the main mast for the return journey to Rome. They took this as a good omen.

When the ship sailed down the Tiber and entered the city of Rome, the snake moved, slithered off of the ship into the water, and swam to Tiber Island where it settled itself.

The Romans took it as a sign that this was where they should build the temple of Aesculapius.

Since that time, Tiber Island has been identified with that ship, and even modelled to resemble it with travertine facing forming it to look like a ship’s prow and stern in the first century B.C., and an enormous obelisk erected to represent the mast of the ship that brought the statue and sacred serpent to Rome from Greece.

One can still see the carving of Aesculapius’ rod and serpent on the ship’s prow to this day!

Carving of the serpent and rod on the ‘prow’ of Tiber Island

In time, other shrines were built on Tiber Island such as to Jupiter Jurarius (Guarantor of Oaths), Semo Sancus Dius Fidius (Witness of Oaths), Faunus (the spirit of Boundaries), Vediovis (God of Healing), Tiberinus (the River God), and to Bellona (Goddess of War).

There was also a festival of Aesculapius and Vediovis every year on the first of January.

Just as it is today, good health was important to the Romans!

Statue of Aesculapius (Asklepios)

With the establishment of the sanctuary of Aesculapius on Tiber Island, the healing practices of Epidaurus were brought to Rome, including the use of the sacred snakes which were, it is believed, the species known as zemenis longissimus, a non-venomous serpent that could grow up to two meters in length.

The doctors also employed the use of sacred dogs whose licks were said to be healing for some patients. It is not surprising, I suppose, considering that some dogs can sniff out cancer, or restore circulation to injured limbs through licking.

Do the practices of the doctors of Tiber Island actually work in the story of Sincerity is a Goddess? Well, you have to read the book to find out. There is, we can say with certainty, a bit with a dog, a doctor with some interesting prescriptions, healing dreams, votive offerings, and a connection between Rome and ancient Epidaurus that is certainly felt on a deep level.

Votive fingurine of a ‘healing dog’ (Museum of Wales)

I’ve but barely scratched the vast surface on this topic.

For some, there is this assumption that ancient medicine was somehow false, crude and barbaric. But modern western medicine owes much to the Greeks and Romans, civilian and military, who travelled the Empire caring for their troops and gathering what knowledge and knowhow they could.

The fusion of science, religious practice, and magic provides for a fascinating mix. In truth, medical practices in medieval Europe were more barbaric than in the ancient world.

We owe much to the followers of Aesculapius and the traditions that flowed from ancient Epidaurus to the heart of Rome where there is still a working hospital on Tiber Island.

Thank you for reading.

Sincerity is a Goddess is now available in hardcover, paperback, and ebook from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortal chains, and your local public library.

CLICK HERE to buy a copy and get ISBN#s information for the edition of your choice.

 

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The World of Sincerity is a Goddess – Part V – Prostitution in Ancient Rome

Welcome back to The World of Sincerity is a Goddess, the blog series in which we are taking a look at some of the research that went into our latest novel set in ancient Rome.

If you missed Part IV on the Games of Apollo, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.

In Part V, we are going to be taking a brief look at prostitution in the Roman Empire.

We hope you find it interesting…

WARNING: The topic discussed in this post, as well as some of the images of ancient frescoes shown, may be offensive to some readers. Discretion is advised.

Now, it should be stated at the outset that Sincerity is a Goddess is not an erotic romp through the streets of Rome. It is a heartwarming comedy. However, as mentioned in Part III of this blog series, on humour and comedy in ancient Rome, the prostitute was a stock character in Roman comedic drama.

In truth, you can’t really write about the Roman world without touching on the long-standing role that prostitution and brothels had to play in society. They were a large part of that world, an element of life in ancient Rome that spanned classes.

They existed, and they most certainly flourished. People – that is, men – of all levels of society made it a normal practice to visit their favourite brothel or prostitute.

The Slave Market – oil painting by Gustave Boulanger, 1886 (Wikimedia Commons)

If you liked the HBO show ROME – which is fantastic by the way! – you might have an image of Titus Pullo whoring his way through the Suburra with his jug of wine in hand. Certainly, this sort of behaviour was not uncommon, especially for troops fresh back from the wars and looking for a good time.

The flip side might be the richer, upper class nobility who may have believed visiting prostitutes was fine, as long as it was done in moderation and didn’t cause a scandal.

The prostitution scene in the Empire was as large and varied as the workers and clients who kept it running. There was something for everyone!

But let’s look at things a bit more closely.

The She-Wolf suckling the brothers, Romulus and Remus

One could say that prostitution has ties to the founding of Rome itself.

You may have read about Romulus and Remus, the brothers who founded Rome and were suckled by the She Wolf, or Lupa.

We have heard of lost children being raised by wolves before, but in the instance of Romulus and Remus, many believe that they were actually raised by a prostitute who found them on the banks of the Tiber. The slang word for prostitute in Latin was lupa.

And the word for brothel was in fact lupanar or lupanarium.

A lupa and her patron

Clients were drawn in by the sexual allure of displayed ‘wares’, sometimes lined up naked on the curb outside, and the various experiences to be had within. The latter were sometimes illustrated in frescoes or mosaics on the walls of the lupanar. These were intended to add to the atmosphere, or were a sort of menu of pleasures to be had.

There were of course ‘high-class’ prostitutes who catered to wealthy and powerful patrons, women who were skilled at conversation, music and poetry. These high end lupae provided an escape, or a feast with friends, in lavish surroundings coupled with a sort of blissful oblivion. Some might have been purchased by their wealthy clients to keep for themselves, and if that was the case they might have ‘enjoyed’ a relatively easy life compared to the alternative.

A lupa’s ‘office’ or ‘cell’ in Pompeii – a cement bed that would have been covered with a matress and pillows

The truth for most, however, was that they were slaves. And slaves in ancient Rome, as we all know, were objects, property to be used and disposed of on a whim.

Prostitutes – women, boys, girls, eunuchs etc. – were at the bottom of the social scale, along with actors and gladiators. They could be adored by clients one moment, and shunned the next. And if a lupa was no longer profitable, the leno (pimp), or the lena (madam) might sell them off as a liability, sending them to a life that was possibly even worse.

In ancient Rome, prostitution was legal and licensed, and it was normal for men of any social rank to enjoy the range of pleasures that were on offer. Every budget and taste was catered to, and because of Rome’s conquests, and the length and breadth of the Roman Empire in the early 3rd century, there would have been slaves of every nationality and colour. Clients of the lupanar would have had their choice of Egyptians, Parthians and Numidians, Germans, Britons, slaves from the far East and anywhere else, including Italians.

The decor of Pompeii’s lupanar – a ‘menu’ of sorts (Wikimedia Commons)

However, even though prostitution was regulated, we should not delude ourselves. This was not a question of morality, or curbing venereal diseases. This was about maximizing profit – prostitution was also taxed!

In Pompeii, prostitution became a sort of tourist trade. One theory contends that on the street pavement you just had to follow the phalluses to find the nearest brothel! There were numerous brothels, and that’s not counting the small curbside cells or niches where the cheapest lupae provided quickies to passers-by.

The Great Lupanar of Pompeii

Because of the archaeological finds, the most well-known brothel in the Roman world was the ‘Great Lupanar’ of Pompeii, located at a crossroads two blocks from the Forum. Many of the frescoes pictured here are from that building which had ten rooms, where most brothels had just a few.

A sexual scene from Pompeii’s great lupanar

One might think that the subject of this particular post was rather fun to write about, that the images above are titillating. And sure, they are to an extent. I don’t mind a bit of risqué material on occasion. Why not?

But then, I can’t help thinking of the lives that these female, and sometimes male, prostitutes had to endure. Very few enjoyed the favour of kind and wealthy clients, living in luxurious surroundings.

Prostitutes were slaves and most were probably pumped and beaten for a bronze coin or two before having to receive their next tormentor. These people were objects to the rest of the world, not human beings. They were people’s daughters and sons, mothers, and sisters. In many cases they’d been taken from their homes on the other side of the world. Perhaps they were all that was left of their family?

For most prostitutes in the Roman Empire, life was a living Hades.

Lupanar scene from Pompeii

One thing is certain however. On the whole, prostitutes in the Roman world – be it Rome, Pompeii, or some far flung corner of the Empire – likely led tortured lives, living in squalid conditions while being brutalized by the male population. No matter how much one might like to romanticize the perceived sexual freedom of the Roman world, one cannot escape the fact that this freedom was supremely one-sided.

For some very interesting and sobering thoughts on the subject, watch this SHORT VIDEO interview with historian Mary Beard.

However, as I said, Sincerity is a Goddess is a comedy. The lupa in this book is not a tortured individual, but a more mature and savvy business woman who is quite skilled at reading people. She has, of course, had her share of hardship in her life, but by the time of our story, she has come through her toils a wiser and more confident person. Her character is crucial to the story and the journey one of our protagonists takes.

The Etrurian Players are coming! Brace yourselves!

Thank you for reading.

Sincerity is a Goddess is now available in ebook, paperback and hardcover from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortal chains, and your local public library.

CLICK HERE to buy a copy and get ISBN#s information for the edition of your choice.

 

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The World of Sincerity is a Goddess – Part III – Humour and Comedy in Ancient Rome

Salvete Readers and Romanophiles!

Welcome back to The World of Sincerity is a Goddess, the blog series in which we share the research for our latest novel, Sincerity is a Goddess: A Dramatic and Romantic Comedy of Ancient Rome.

If you missed the second post on theatres in ancient Rome, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.

In part three of this blog series, we’re going to be looking at humour and dramatic comedy in ancient Rome, including stock characters and popular themes.

Let’s dive in!

Laughing Legionaries

An Abderite [from Abdera in Thrace] saw a eunuch and asked him how many kids he had. When that guy said that he didn’t have the balls, so as to be able to have children, the Abderite asked when he was going to get the balls.

(Philagelos, #114)

Is that funny to you? Maybe a little? Or does it make you scratch your head and wonder?

The joke above is actually a Roman joke about 2000 years old. Yes, that old. It’s one of 250-odd jokes in the oldest joke book in the world known as the Philagelos, or ‘The Laughter Lover’. It is thought that this text is a compendium of jokes over several hundred years. The earliest manuscript is thought to date to the 4th or 5th centuries A.D. 

Humour in the ancient world was not really something I’d thought about in my writing and research until I began work on Sincerity is a Goddess. If there has ever been humour in my books, it has been a reflection of my own modern perceptions of what humour is, or should be. Otherwise, my modern readers would be left scratching their heads.

Salve, Titus! Heard any good jokes lately?

Several years ago, I heard an interview with eminent classicist and historian Mary Beard on the subject of her book about humour in the Roman world entitled: Laughter in Ancient Rome: On Joking, Tickling, and Cracking Up. This is a wonderful book that will give you a whole new perspective on people in ancient Rome.

Anyway, until my research for this novel, my idea of humour in the ancient world was partly based on the musical A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum by the brilliant Stephen Sondheim. The latter is not a completely inaccurate view since the story is based on the farces of the Roman playwright Plautus (251–183 BC) – more on him later in this series.

Bawdiness played a large role from the theatre to the marching songs of Rome’s legionaries. 

Slap stick comedy was a part of humour in the ancient world, but Professor Beard put forth the idea that there are other aspects of ancient humour which we might not, or cannot, understand. 

A professional beggar had been letting his girlfriend think that he was rich and of noble birth. Once, when he was getting a handout at the neighbour’s house, he suddenly saw her. He turned around and said: “Have my dinner-clothes sent here.”

(Philagelos, #106)

When it comes to many ancient jokes, our cultural and temporal disconnect make them simply ‘not funny’. For better or for worse, depending on your point of view, we have also grown much more sensitive today.

Another reason why the humour of some ancient jokes may be lost on us is that perhaps the medieval monks copying these down simply made mistakes or interpreted them incorrectly. 

Roman Comic from The New Yorker

Mary Beard has also pointed out that there is no real way to know how ancient people laughed either. This is a bit of a trickier concept to wrap one’s head around. What were ancients’ reactions to laughing? Did they have uncontrollable laughter?

My thought is that yes, maybe our jokes are different from what Roman jokes were, just like how some people find Monty Python funny (I know I do!), while others wonder what the big deal is. I also think that we are perhaps not so different in our physical reactions. For example, there is the quote from Cassius Dio, whom I have used as a source for much of my writing. 

Here is a portion from the Roman History in which Cassius Dio and other senators are watching Emperor Commodus slay ostriches in the amphitheatre. As we know, Commodus was off his head, and prone to killing whomever he wanted.

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

(Cassius Dio, Roman History LXXIII)

Emperor Commodus in the Arena

What a sight that must have been! Even though it meant certain death, Dio and the other senators had to chew laurels so as not to give in to what was presumably an urge to laugh hysterically. 

A young man said to his libido-driven wife: “What should we do, darling? Eat or have sex?” And she replied: “You can choose. But there’s not a crumb in the house.”

(Philagelos, #244)

Bawdiness creeps in all the time in ancient humour, and why not? Everyone (well almost everyone) likes a sex joke. If you peruse the jokes in the Philagelos, you’ll see that many of them have to do with sex.

And this didn’t just apply to the Romans. The ancient Greeks found sex and humour to be comfortable bedfellows (no pun intended).

You’re not getting any until you end this stupid war!

I remember going to an evening performance of Aristophanes’ Lysistrata at the ancient theatre of Epidaurus one summer night. It was a beautiful setting with the mountains as a backdrop to the ancient odeon, the sun setting orange and red, and then a great canopy of silver stars in the sky above. 

Lysistrata is a play about a woman’s determination to stop the Peloponnesian War by withholding sex from her husband, and getting all other women to do the same. It seemed quite the political statement on the waste and futility of war, as well as ancient gender issues. 

But then the men, who had not had sex for a long time, came prancing about the stage with giant, bulbous phalluses dangling between their legs, moaning with the pain of their ancient world blue balls. Some of the crowd roared with laughter, others tittered in embarrassment, and still others sat stock-still like the statues in the site museum. 

Perhaps that is the point? Maybe in ancient times, just as today, some jokes were funny to some and not to others? Are we that different from our ancient Roman and Greek counterparts?

Relief of a Roman Comedic Performance

In her book, Professor Beard points out that ancient writers like Cicero speak of the different types of humour. There is derision (laughing at others), puns (word play), incongruity (pairing of opposites), and humour as a release from tension. 

During my research, I found this to be a much bigger topic than I had expected. It’s fascinating to think of laughter in an ancient context. 

Do I find ancient jokes funnier than before? Not really, though I do find they reveal something more of Roman society. 

But what about comedy in ancient Rome, when it came to plays and the theatre?

In the first part of this blog series, we discussed drama and the various types that developed in Rome, including the pantomimes, mimes, and farces.

Pantomimes tended to be tragic, and mimes were comic in nature, both being more sophisticated or high-brow than farces. Actors in pantomime and mime received training in dance, poetry, and mythology. Often, a performance involved an expressive dance by one actor accompanied by a chorus and ensemble of string, wind or percussion instruments. The artists could be very famous, bringing in large crowds. Often, the subjects of pantomimes were mythological in nature.

That said, in the world of ancient Rome, it was the racier, more bawdy and often improvised, farces, that were popular with the people.

It seems that the people, especially among the lower classes would have much preferred American Pie or Porky’s, to An Ideal Husband or Much Ado about Nothing.

How about some tickles?

Theatrical comedy in general did have certain archetypes when it came to costumes, characters, and themes.

As in ancient Greek theatre, masks, made of linen or cork, were worn, and were brown for male characters, and white for female. Purple was the colour more often worn by rich male and female characters, and red by characters who were supposed to be poor. Slaves boys in comedies were dressed in striped tunics.

Characters and themes in Roman comedy had strong links to ancient Greek comedy, especially those of Menander.

These stock characters often included the young man (adulescens), the young woman (virgo), the young married woman (uxor), the prostitute who could have her own household (meretrix), the pimp (leno), and others such as hostile fathers, unscrupulous pimps, or pirates.

The main stock Roman comedy characters, however, were most often the clever slave, the mean brothel keeper, and the boastful but stupid soldier.

The musical, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, by Stephen Sondheim, is a modern play/musical that perfectly illustrates all of these stock characters. In some ways, it is closest to Roman mimes and farces, performed as they were with an array of songs, and musical accompaniment and dancing.

Scene from A Funny thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (1966)

In researching Sincerity is a Goddess, it was surprising to find out that the themes in ancient Greek and Roman comedy are the origins of our modern slap-stick and romantic comedies.

Intrigues and misunderstandings are common and added to stories of boy-meets-girl, pairs of lovers, pregnancies, marriages, and mistaken identities.

It all makes for a sort of basic training in comedy writing.

Though there were a lot of similarities with comedy today, ancient comedy, high or low brow, was also unique, reflecting the worries, values and everyday lives of the Roman people.

However, it seems that, though we and the Romans may have found different things humorous, they enjoyed an escape from the everyday and a good laugh as much as we do.

Thank you for reading.

Sincerity is a Goddess is now available in ebook, paperback and hardcover from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortal chains, and your local public library.

CLICK HERE to buy a copy and get ISBN#s information for the edition of your choice.

The Etrurian Players are coming! Brace yourselves!

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The World of Sincerity is a Goddess – Part II – Theatres in Ancient Rome

Salvete Readers and Romanophiles!

Welcome back to The World of Sincerity is a Goddess, the blog series in which we share the research for our latest novel, Sincerity is a Goddess: A Dramatic and Romantic Comedy of Ancient Rome.

If you missed the first post on drama and actors in ancient Rome, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.

In part two of this series, we’re going to be looking at the evolution of the structure of the theatre during the Roman period, the places where actors performed, from the dirtiest street corner to the most magnificent structures of the Empire.

We hope you enjoy!

The ancient theatre of Epidaurus

One of the main questions I had when I set out on the research for this latest book was around the physical structure of the Roman theatre. Of course, I knew about ancient Greek theatres, having visited several in my travels over the years. But what about Roman theatres? Did the Romans simply re-use Greek odea? Did the Romans build their own theatres and, if so, how did they differ from those built by the Greeks?

In this blog post, we’re going to be taking a brief look at theatres in ancient Rome and how they differed structurally from those of the Greeks.

The ancient Greeks were, of course, the progenitors of drama and the theatre. When one thinks of ancient theatre, it’s difficult not to think first of an ancient Greek theatre such as the the magnificent, and still-used, example at ancient Epidaurus in the Peloponnese. Or even the beautiful, silent ruins of the great theatre of Argos. It is quite an experience to sit in the ancient seats and not feel some sort of communal awe from centuries past, looking out to the distant mountains or sea beyond the stage where ancient actors would have enacted stories of gods, goddesses, heroes, and the trials and tribulations of everyday people on their journey through this life.

The ancient Greek playwrights – Euripides, Sophocles, Aeschylus, Aristophanes and others – had a way delving deep into the heart of human emotion and experience and making people linger there so that they would, hopefully, come out of it a bit more enlightened. And in a setting such as those ancient theatres, it would be hard not to.

I’ve seen comedic and tragic plays performed while sitting with thousands of others beneath the stars in an ancient theatre. It is an experience I shall never forget.

But even if one is not moved by the words spoken by the actors, it is difficult not to marvel at the genius of the architecture that allows the audience at the top of the seats to hear a whispered word spoken from the centre of the orchestra.

Ancient theatres really are engineering wonders!

The ancient theatre of Argos, Peloponnese, Greece.

Of course, the men of the Tiber knew a good thing when they saw it, and so they eventually adopted drama and theatres while adding their own Roman flair.

But this took some time, and some convincing…

Drama and theatre first came to Rome through contact with the Greek cities to the south and the Etruscans to the north, who had regular contact with the Greeks. It might have been looked upon with suspicion by conservative Romans at first, but eventually, drama would take hold of the Roman people.

Etruscan Entertainers

In 364 B.C., the Roman Republic was hit by a plague, and in an effort to please the gods and entreat their aid, Rome vowed to hold theatrical festivals in their honour.

To do this, Etruscan actors were brought in and the rest is history. This considered by some to be the start of this new entertainment for the Roman public, an entertainment inspired by the Greek cities of southern Italy.

Theatre of Dionysos, Athens

Plays were originally performed in Greek, but over time Latin playwrights emerged, such as Plautus, Terence, and others. Of course, there were tragedies and comedies in the beginning, but then folk and bawdy plays began to take hold, and the mimes and pantomimes became the most popular among ancient Romans.

To read more about the types of literature in ancient Rome, including drama, CLICK HERE. Suffice it to say that theatrical performances eventually became nearly as popular as chariot racing and gladiatorial combat in ancient Rome.

Temple of Antoninus and Faustina, Roman Forum. Play were sometimes performed on temple steps such as this.

There may have been theatres dotted all over territories which Rome had conquered early on, but in the city of Rome itself, there were no stone theatres at first, not like in Greek cities where a theatre was a given sign of civilization.

Early dramatic performances in ancient Rome were either performed on the steps of temples or on temporary wooden stages which were constructed in the Circus Maximus or Roman Forum for festivals. After the performances were finished, they were torn down.

Despite the popular appeal of drama in ancient Rome, conservative elements had a deep dislike of the theatre, viewing it as ‘too Greek’ and opposed to Roman values. The theatre – especially the mimes and pantomimes – were viewed as lewd, and this is a view that continued into the Christian era.

But, even among conservative Romans, it was hard to fight popular appeal, and the theatre was indeed growing in popularity.

Roman Re-enactors on the steps of a temple in Spain (photo: Turismo de Merida)

As we know, the Romans loved their games, or ludi, and by sponsoring these games, Roman magistrates had found a way to win the political favour – and hence, votes! – of the people.

Some examples of games which featured theatrical performances were the Ludi Apollinaris in honour of Apollo (July 6-13) and the Ludi Megalenses in honour of Cybele (April 4-10). 

The building of theatres became a way to win the favour of the people. Unlike today when, sadly, theatre is viewed as something more for the elite or well-to-do, the theatre was, in ancient Rome, for people of all classes!

As mentioned, at first theatres in Rome were temporary and constructed of wood, but as time went on, even these wooden ones became more elaborate.

Artist Impression of temporary wooden stage of Roman period (image: Jean Raia)

In 58 B.C. Marcus Aemilius Scaurus built a wooden stage for performances, but this one had columns of African marble, as well as statues, glass, gold and fabrics to adorn it. The people loved it!

In 52/51 B.C. Gaius Scribonius Curio even built two moveable semi-circular theatres that could be pushed together to build an amphitheatre so that plays could be performed during the day and gladiatorial games viewed at night!

Eventually the time would come when Rome would receive its first stone theatre, despite conservative opposition, and this was given to the people by none other than Pompey the Great.

Reconstruction of the Theatre of Pompey in Rome with attached gardens and temple above the theatre seating. More on this magnificent setting in a later post!

From 61-55 B.C., Pompey built a magnificent stone theatre for Rome, and he appears to have used his general’s wiles to get it done in a way that tricked conservative dictates. You see, this was not only a theatre, but also a temple complex dedicated to the goddess Venus herself.

Atop the great theatre of Pompey, resting above and behind the seats of the auditorium, was a magnificent temple of Venus. The argument was, it seems, that the theatre itself was simply the substructure of the temple, the ‘real’ purpose of the construction. The gods were now present in the theatre, and no one would have dared to tear it down!

The theatre of Pompey is now, perhaps sadly, known as the place where Julius Caesar was murdered (the senate was meeting there at the time), but more importantly, it was the beginning of a greater acceptance of theatre in the city of Rome.

Indeed, after the accession of Augustus, one of his supporters, one Lucius Cornelius Balbus, built a second stone theatre in Rome, on the Campus Martius, known today as the Theatre of Balbus.

Model of the Theatre of Balbus

These permanent Roman theatres, however, were more than places to stage dramatic performances. They were also meeting places that incorporated religious elements. There were temples, and gardens and courtyards where people could stroll between acts, or meet outside of performances. They became part of the fabric of the city of ancient Rome.

But what were the structural differences between ancient Greek and Roman theatres?

It is impossible to deny the simple beauty of ancient Greek theatres, and the brilliance of their acoustic design. It is truly astounding to sit at the top of the seats and hear someone drop a coin or light a match in the middle of the orchestra!

Plan of an Ancient Greek Theatre

Roman theatres were of course, based on Greek designs. Even the Romans could not deny the acoustic uses!

But whereas Greek theatres, or odea, were normally built into a hillside and had round orchestras where the performance took place, Roman theatres were more often stand-alone structures with semi-circular orchestras where seating was reserved for high-ranking officials, senators, or members of the imperial family. Roman theatres were constructed with solid masonry or vaults that supported the curved or sloping auditorium seats, or cavea. This design sometimes included a colonnaded gallery around the outside that gave easier access to the tiers of seats.

Plan of a Typical Roman Theatre

Another innovation given to the theatre by the Romans was the inclusion of a curtain before the stage. Today, it is hard not to think of a curtain in a theatre, and we owe this to the Romans. The difference was that where today the curtain hangs from above, in a Roman theatre, the curtain, or aulaeum as it was known, retracted into a pit in the floor before the stage at the beginning of the performance, and rose out of it at the end.

The most noticeable difference between Greek and Roman theatres, however, was the Roman scaena.

In an ancient Greek theatre, initially, the chorus and actors performed on the round orchestra, but later on, a raised stage, or proskenion, was incorporated. At the back of this stage, they began to build a one or two-story backdrop known as a skene, the ‘scene’ before which the action took place, and behind which the actors could change. The Greek skene did not obstruct the view beyond the theatre, however, but rather just provided the ornate backdrop.

The scaena frons of the Theatre of Pompey

The Roman scaena, however, was much more substantial, for it more or less enclosed theatre completely and provided a full divider between the audience and backstage.

Scaenae frons in Roman theatres had three or five doors flanked by columns and statues in niches. The scaena and its doors could provide the setting for a street scene, houses, palaces etc., and sometimes it was even sectioned off with smaller curtains called siparia as needed.

The Roman-era theatre of Herodes Atticus, Athens

The Roman scaena also rose to the full height of the theatre itself, either level with the rear seats of the auditorium, or even higher. There was also a wooden roof above the stage of Roman theatres that also acted as a sounding board.

It wasn’t just the actors who were protected from above either, for in some Roman theatres there could also be an awning above the auditorium known as a velarium, to shield the viewers from sun and rain. Roman theatres also had covered porticoes where audience members could go between performances.

The Romans did like their comfort!

The Roman theatre in Thugga, Tunisia, featured in Killing the Hydra (Eagles and Dragons Book II)

Were Roman theatres built across the Empire once Rome had made its own innovations in theatrical architecture?

Well, it seems the Romans did make adjustments to some Greek theatres by adding their own scaenae. However, especially in the Hellenistic east, Greek odea continued to be used, only just for more refined performances of music and poetry recitations rather than for populist mimes and pantomimes.

Romans continued to use the odeon design when called for, but sometimes with the addition of a roof. This type of smaller, enclosed and roofed theatre was known as a theatrum tectum. An example of this is the one built in Pompeii in 79 B.C.

Aerial view of theatres of Pompeii. Note the theatrum tectum on bottom right which would have been fully enclosed.

When it comes to theatres and theatrical performance, whatever the genre, the Greeks and Romans did have this in common: theatre was extremely popular with the people and important for the social life of the community, be it in the cultured metropolises of the Empire, or on the distant borders, far from the beating heart of Rome.

The Greeks may have invented theatres, but some might argue that it was the Romans who perfected them.

Thank you for reading.

Sincerity is a Goddess is now available in ebook, paperback and hardcover from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortal chains, and your local public library.

CLICK HERE to buy a copy and get ISBN#s information for the edition of your choice.

The Etrurian Players are coming! Brace yourselves!

 

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New Video Premiere! – Roman Florence: A Short Walking Tour

Salvete Romanophiles!

Today we’re excited to share a brand new mini documentary with you.

Most of us know the city of Florence as the birthplace of the Renaissance, an age that was the genesis for some of the greatest works of art in human history.

It really is one of the most beautiful, exciting and inspiring cities in the world!

This past May, I had the chance to go back to Florence after twenty years and it was, as expected, an absolute dream.

However, this time, we were seeing it from a different perspective…a more ancient perspective.

Did you know that Florence actually has Roman origins, and that it was established by Julius Caesar around 59 B.C.?

It’s true! You can read all about the Roman origins of Florence or, rather, Florentia, in the blog post Florentia: The Roman Origins of Florence by CLICKING HERE.

Though many of the Roman ruins of Florence were still closed due to the pandemic when we were there, we were still able to walk about what was the legionary fortress and the ghostly shadow of the colonia of Florentia beneath our feet.

We do hope you enjoy this latest video Roman Florence: A Short Walking Tour…

Be sure to subscribe to the Eagles and Dragons Publishing YouTube channel so you don’t miss any more videos about history, archaeology, Greek and Roman Mythology and more.

Thank you for watching, and thank you for reading!

 

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New Video! – The Ancient Citadel of Tiryns

Greetings History-Lovers!

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.

The East Galleria

For those who would like to learn all about the history and mythology of Tiryns, be sure to check out our previous blog post Tiryns: Mycenaean Stronghold and Place of Legend.

It is also worth noting that Tiryns is also one of the major settings in Book 4 of the Mythologia series, The Reluctant Hero: The Story of Bellerophon and the Chimera, which you can check out HERE.

And so, without further ado, Eagles and Dragons Publishing presents our newest mini documentary The Ancient Citadel of Tiryns: A Short Tour.

We hope you enjoy it!

Be sure to subscribe to the Eagles and Dragons Publishing YouTube channel so that you don’t miss any new releases.

Thank you for reading, and thank you for watching.

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Revisiting the Etruscan Tomb of Montecalvario

It is no secret that one of my favourite places in the world is Tuscany. There are many reasons for this, including the pace of life, the wine, the food, the people and, of course, the idyllic countryside.

There is also the history and archaeology.

Over the years I have dearly missed Tuscany, especially in the dark days of a long, Canadian winter. I’ve often found myself longing for its rolling hills and spear-thrusting cypresses in a world exploding with colour and light.

This land has been a big part of my life, and the setting for many of my books.

Recently, I was blessed enough to be able to go back to Tuscany after twenty years away, and I was reminded once more why I love it so.

In this blog post, I want to share a bit about my return visit to one site in particular: the Etruscan tomb of Montecalvario.

One of the four entrances to the tomb of Montecalvario

For fans of the Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series, this particular tomb was the inspiration for Metellus family tomb which plays such an important and mysterious role in the books.

The first time I visited this archaeological site, hidden away on a lonely road outside of Castellina in Chianti, I knew right away that I wanted to use it in the novels.

Little did I know, how much of an inspiration it would be!

Adam going into the Etruscan tomb at Castellina in Chianti 20 years ago!

Before I get into my return visit, let’s briefly discuss the site.

As many of you know, Tuscany, or rather Etruria, is named for the Etruscans, the ancient people who lived and ruled there long before the Romans dominated the Italian mainland. I won’t go into the history of the Etruscan here, but you can read the full blog post entitled The Elusive Etruscans for a brief history of that fascinating people.

Tuscany is full of Etruscan archaeological sites that you can explore, including countless tombs, large and small.

The tomb of Montecalvario is one of them.

It is located in the province of Siena, on the outskirts of Castellina in Chianti, one of the main towns of the Chianti Classico wine region, on the road between Poggibonsi and Radda, the latter being the heart of Chianti Classico.

Chianti Classico region with Castellina in Chianti and Montecalvario in the top left corner (from site interpretation)

The hill of Montecalvario is actually named for a Christian chapel that had been built on top of the hill in the Middle Ages which was the last stop on the Via Crucis, or the ‘Way of the Cross’, the ‘Mount of Calvary’ being the site of Christ’s cruxifixction, but also the final stop for pilgrims along this particular trail.

The chapel is gone now, the remains of this majestic tomb visible once more.

The hill under which the tomb is located is more than fifty meters wide, and was actually discovered by accident in the early 19th century.

Historic photo of discovery of tomb of Montecalvario (from site interpretation)

What was revealed was an imposing Etruscan funerary monument made up of four chambers aligned with the cardinal directions. Each of the main burial chambers was reached by its own corridor or dromos (Greek for ‘road’) which was flanked by other, small rooms, with the South and West tombs having a more complex, three-chamber layout.

Layout of the tomb of Montecalvario (from site interpretation)

Archaeologists believed the tomb had already been looted by the time it was discovered, but the robbers did not get everything. There were fragments of gold, bronze, iron, bone and ivory scattered about, believed to have been from caskets or urns that had been buried there. In addition, there were the remnants of metal objects, including parts from two chariots and sheets with decorated reliefs on wood panels, also thought to be from the chariots.

Recreated chariot using finds from the tomb (from site interpretation)

Due to the monumental size of this tomb, and the hint of grave goods that the archaeological finds provide, it is believed that this may have been a princely tomb for members of the ruling families of this region around the seventh and sixth centuries B.C.

Artist Impression of Tomb of Montecalvario (from site interpretation)

So what was it like to return to this land, this place, after twenty years, after writing about it and imagining it many times over so that it took on a life of its own in my fiction?

It was like walking through a dream.

We had set out early that morning from our agriturismo accommodation south of Siena (under which was an Etruscan tomb!) to drive over the forested hills to the soaring Etruscan fortress town of Volterra, to the southwest of San Gimignano. It was a long, beautiful drive over winding roads across the Tuscan landscape, but the view from Volterra’s heights were well worth it.

View from the heights of the Etruscan fortress of Volterra

If you ever go to Tuscany, do so in the Spring when the weather is not too hot and the landscape is supremely green and dotted with myriad brilliant poppies bobbing their delicate heads. It is a world bursting with life when Springtime asserts itself for a few weeks before the world turns dry and brown.

From Volterra, we set out on the winding road through the Chianti region, that rich and fertile land over which Florence and Siena fought so viciously during the Middle Ages.

When one thinks of Tuscany, it is difficult not to think of rolling, grassy hills, of lanes and roads dotted with sentry cypresses, but when you come to the Chianti Classico region, you are met with an often steep and mountainous terrain covered in forests where boar and deer roam, and between the hills are smaller valleys in which ancient vines are grown alongside groves of olive.

A view of the Chianti hills

I had forgotten how thickly-forested Tuscany could be, and I was happy to be reminded as we drove past the many-towered settlement of San Gimignano in search of Castellina in Chianti and the tomb that had been such an inspiration years before.

As we drove into the Chianti Classico region in search of the tomb, the sky turned dark and a storm threatened us with black clouds and flashes of angry lightning in every direction.

It was quite a change from the hot and sunny heights of Volterra.

From the fortress town of Monteriggioni, we headed northwest through the storm to Castellina in Chianti, passing the headquarters of wineries whose names were warm and familiar to us, even in Canada.

At last, with a pause in the rain, we arrived in Castellina in Chianti, searching for signs to the tomb that seemed to elude even our car’s GPS and Siri herself.

Castellina in Chianti with the Medieval tower to the right.

After taking the wrong road, and having to turn back, we finally arrived at the small parking lot for the tomb of Montecalvario, located on a hill opposite the small 14th century castle from which the town gets its name.

There was no one else around when we parked and began the short walk up the road to the tomb’s entrance. The sky was still dark in places, and a chorus of thunder continued to rumble in the background.

I felt strange walking up the path to the tomb, almost like my character, Lucius Metellus Anguis, when he returns to the family estate after many years away.

Watch out for snakes! Adam heading into the tomb…

Make no mistake… This Tuscan experience is far different from the Renaissance grandeur of Florence. In the countryside, you step back in time. Beyond the occasional passing car on the road below, all I could hear was the distant thunder, the crunch of my boots on the path, birdsong and the beating of my heart.

As I did years before, I wondered again about the people who had built this tomb high on a hill, about the rituals they might have performed for the dead. If you block out the sound of cars, you can almost hear weeping or prayers to the gods on the air.

I spent more time exploring and documenting the tomb of Montecalvario this time. I headed farther into the tomb than I had dared previously, trying to ignore the fact that snakes could have been hiding within (there weren’t any that I could see, thankfully!).

One of the inner chambers

While in the tomb, I was reminded of the fiction I have created around this place, and it came to life in my mind as though it had all really occurred there.

That was, admittedly, a very strange feeling, and one that made me somewhat melancholy. But such is the way of things when you visit realms of the dead. There is a sadness, a thick nostalgia in the air, and I felt both of those acutely as I roamed about the Metellus family tomb of my books.

The largest of the inner chambers

After absorbing the site, and taking all of the pictures and video I had planned on taking, it was time to leave that cypress-crowned tumulus.

I walked back down the long path with an occasional backward glance over my shoulder as if bidding farewell to a friend I did not know if I would see again.

Then, it was out of site, and the sky cleared a little over the Tuscan hills as we got back in our modern chariot to wend our way through that ancient land to Radda, our next stop along the way.

It was good to revisit the tomb of Montecalvario after so many years and, despite the myriad joys of our wondrous, ten-day Tuscan interlude, reconnecting with this inspiring place was certainly one of the highlights.

Thank you for reading.

Standing at the top of the tomb.

If you enjoyed this post, you will definitely want to check out the mini-documentary I filmed at this archaeological site of Montecalvario. Just click the YouTube video below on the Eagles and Dragons Publishing YouTube channel to watch it.

For those of you who are interested in starting the #1 best selling Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series, you can get the first prequel novel, The Dragon: Genesis, for FREE by clicking HERE. The tomb of Montecalvario figures largely in the book.

We hope you enjoy the book and the video, The Etruscan Tomb of Montecalvario: A Short Tour below:

 

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Mythologia: From Zero to Hero – The Story of an Epic Race

Then he [Pelops] said unto him: ‘Lo now, O Poseidon, if the kind gifts of the Cyprian goddess are anywise pleasant in thine eyes, restrain Oinomaus’ bronze spear, and send me unto Elis upon a chariot exceeding swift, and give the victory to my hands. Thirteen lovers already hath Oinomaus slain, and still delayeth to give his daughter in marriage. Now a great peril does not take hold of a coward: and forasmuch as men must die, wherefore should one sit vainly in the dark through a dull and nameless age, and without lot in noble deeds? Not so, but I will dare this strife… 

(Pindar, Olympian Ode 1)

Greetings lovers of ancient history and mythology!

This week on the blog, we’re going to be taking a brief look at one of the most important heroes of Greek myth, but one who is often overlooked in popular culture today.

We are going to be looking at the myth of Pelops and Hippodameia and the events that led to the naming of the Peloponnesian peninsula after this hero.

Pelops and Hippodameia racing

Though the myth of Pelops may not be well-known to the average person today, it was an important part of the mythological and religious canon in the world of ancient Greece and Rome. Several ancient writers wrote about it, including Homer, Pindar, Apollonius of Rhodes, Apollodoros, Diodorus Siculus, Pausanias and Pliny the Elder. Even Sophocles and Euripides wrote plays on the subject.

One of the foundation myths of the Olympic Games relates to Pelops and involves his famous chariot race against Oinomaus, the king of Elis.

On my first visit to ancient Olympia many years ago, I discovered Pelops’ story for the first time, having been amazed that it was so important that one of the statue groups on the pediment of the great temple of Zeus was dedicated to the myth.

Subsequently, I discovered that one of the hero shrines at ancient Olympia was dedicated to this eponymous hero.

East pediment of the temple of Zeus at Olympia showing Zeus between Oinomaus and Pelops, just before their race

But who was Pelops, and what did he do to deserve such adulation and remembrance?

These are the questions that I wanted to explore in Wheels of Fate, Book II in the Mythologia fantasy series.

SPOILER ALERT!

If you are planning on reading Wheels of Fate, you may wish to do so before going any further as this post discussed some of the key plot points in the myth that are explored in the book.

Here is a short synopsis of the myth…

The ancient kingdom of Elis, was ruled by Oinomaus who was the son of Ares and, apparently, quite brutal. He had a daughter by the name of Hippodameia, and every suitor who came for his daughter’s hand in marriage had to try and beat him in a chariot race across what became known as the Peloponnese, or, the ‘Isle of Pelops’.

Eighteen suitors had raced Oinomaus and been killed by him before Pelops laid down his challenge.

According to the legend, Pelops, a young prince from Lydia, was the son of Tantalus, the arrogant king who was punished by the Gods for his grievous sin and sent to Tartarus. After being greatly abused by his father (that’s an understatement!) Pelops was was taken in by Poseidon himself who taught him about horses. Eventually, Poseidon gave him a team of swift-footed horses so that he could race against Oinomaus.

In order to ensure that Oinomaus did not win, Hippodameia also convinced her father’s man, Myrtilus, to sabotage the chariot so that Oinomaus would crash.

After Pelops’ victory, it was said that he began the Olympic Games in thanks to Zeus for his win. Another theory is that the Olympics were begun by Pelops as funeral games for the deceased Oinomaus who died in the race, or for Myrtilus, whom Pelops killed.

Whatever the ‘truth’ about these Olympic beginnings, one thing is certain – Chariot racing and horses had a deep connection to the Olympic Games.

This is a great simplification of the story. The book, Wheels of Fate, goes into much greater detail in exploring the myth. However, this particular foundation myth points to the Games as an event to commemorate Pelops’ victory.

Pelops and Hippodameia

As far as we know, the very first event of the Olympic Games was the stade race sprint, and boxing became a part of the Olympic roster in the fourteenth Olympiad.

So when did chariot racing become a part of the Games?

It is generally agreed that chariot racing first made an appearance in the ancient Olympics during the twenty-fifth Olympiad in the year 680 B.C.

In tandem with the Olympic Games, said to be established by Pelops in this instance, Hippodameia was said to have established the Games of Hera, the Heraia, in thanks to the goddess for granting the victory as well. You can read more about the Heraia HERE.

The chariot race was the marquee event at the Olympic Games, and central to the story of Wheels of Fate, as well as our historical fantasy epic Heart of Fire: A Novel of the Ancient Olympics.

Olympia map showing hippodrome at bottom right.

There was much testament to this particular foundation myth around the Altis of Olympia as well, the sacred precinct at the heart of the sanctuary. As mentioned, one of the pediments from the temple of Zeus shows Oinomaus and Pelops with their chariots, on either side of Zeus, getting ready to race.

Also, in the hippodrome, the chariot racing track of Olympia, a statue of Hippodameia overlooked the track, and one of the turns called the Taraxippos, was said to be haunted by the angry ghost of Oinomaus who would spook horses as they passed. Also, one of the posts in the turns was said to be made from a beam from Oinomaus’ burnt house.

In the middle of the Altis, there was also the Pelopion, the burial mound of Pelops which became a shrine to the hero who would become the father of Atreus, and grandfather of Agamemnon and Menelaus, those well-known kings of Mycenae and Sparta who sailed to war at Troy.

Pelopion (digital model created by University of Melbourne)

There is no denying the importance of Pelops among the ranks of ancient Greek heroes, and so it was a joy to explore his life in Wheels of Fate, to explore the dark corners of his life beyond what the sources tell us.

He was a grandson of immortals, the son of a king, and the father and grandfather of some of the most powerful kings of the Greek heroic age.

And his name lives on in the land itself, the ‘Peloponnese’ or, the ‘Isle of Pelops’.

If you want to explore this myth more deeply, you can check out our epic retelling of this myth in Book II of the Mythologia series, Wheels of Fate: The Story of Pelops and Hippodameia.

If you are interested in learning more about the ancient Olympic Games, you can check out The World of Heart of Fire blog series in which we look at all of the foundation myths of the ancient Olympics (yes, there are more than one!), the original athletic events, the archeology of ancient Olympia and more. You can also join me on a video tour of the archaeological site! You can read that series of blog posts for free by CLICKING HERE.

Lastly, if you haven’t checked out any of the titles in the Mythologia series, you can get the first three in the Mythologia: First Omnibus Edition HERE or directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing.

Thank you for reading.

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The World of The Blood Road – Part V – Carthago Nova: From Punic Outpost to Center of Roman Trade

Salvete history-lovers!

We’re at the half-way point in this blog series about The World of The Blood Road. I hope you’ve enjoyed it thus far. A lot of research goes into every Eagles and Dragons novel, and I’m thrilled to share it with you!

If you missed Part IV on the Praetorian Guard and the Castra Praetoria at Rome, you can read that post by CLICKING HERE.

Roman Spain, with Carthago Nova at the bottom right, on the Mediterranean coast

In Part V of this blog series we’re going to be taking a look at one of the locations visited by the main characters: the Iberian city of Carthago Nova, or, ‘New Carthage’.

One of the joys of writing historical fiction in the Roman Empire is that you have myriad options for setting open to you. The Roman world was vast and varied. It never gets boring. Like the people inhabiting it, the terrain and settlements are all different. The Roman Empire is perhaps the most diverse, multi-cultural civilization in ancient human history.

Carthago Nova, modern Cartagena in southern Spain, is no exception, and its history and development are fascinating. In this post, we’re going to take a very brief look at this ancient settlement.

Remains of Punic walls of Qart Hadasht

It [Carthago Nova] stands about half-way down the coast of Iberia in a gulf which faces south-west, running about twenty stades inland, and about ten stades broad at its entrance. The whole gulf is made a harbour by the fact that an island lies at its mouth and thus makes the entrance channels on each side of it exceedingly narrow. It breaks the force of the waves also, and the whole gulf has thus smooth water, except when south-west winds setting down the two channels raise a surf: with all other winds it is perfectly calm, from being so nearly landlocked. In the recess of the gulf a mountain juts out in the form of a chersonese, and it is on this mountain that the city stands, surrounded by the sea on the east and south, and on the west by a lagoon extending so far northward that the remaining space to the sea on the other side, to connect it with the continent, is not more than two stades. The city itself has a deep depression in its centre, presenting on its south side a level approach from the sea; while the rest of it is hemmed in by hills, two of them mountainous and rough, three others much lower, but rocky and difficult of ascent; the largest of which lies on the east of the town running out into the sea, on which stands a temple of Asclepius. Exactly opposite this lies the western mountain in a closely-corresponding position, on which a palace had been erected at great cost, which it is said was built by Hasdrubal when he was aiming at establishing royal power. The remaining three lesser elevations bound it on the north, of which the westernmost is called the hill of Hephaestus, the next to it that of Aletes,—who is believed to have attained divine honours from having been the discoverer of the silver mines,—and the third is called the hill of Cronus. The lagoon has been connected with the adjoining sea artificially for the sake of the maritime folk; and over the channel thus cut between it and the sea a bridge has been built, for beasts of burden and carts to bring in provisions from the country.

(Polybius, Histories, 10.10)

Coin showing image of Hasdrubal the Fair

Originally, Carthago Nova, which is its later Roman name, may have been a Phoenician trading centre named ‘Mastia’. However, the settlement really took off and began to flourish under Carthage as Qart Hadasht (meaning ‘New City’) which was founded by the Carthaginian general Hasdrubal the Fair, the son-in-law of Hamilcar Barca, in 228 B.C.

After Carthage took the Iberian peninsula, Qart Hadasht became the seat of Punic power there. It thrived as a trade centre, but also as a supply station and base of operations from which, during the Second Punic War, Hannibal would strike out for northern Italy.

Qart Hadasht thrived because of trade, the excellent port, and the nearby silver mines. But success was a double-edged gladius. All the success the city enjoyed angered other trading centres, especially Massilia, an allied Roman city.

And Massilia complained to Rome.

Bust of Scipio Africanus

By the time the second Punic war came about, Rome was taking a closer look at the problem of Qart Hadasht. Actually, it was one Roman in particular: Publius Cornelius Scipio.

He [Scipio] therefore rejected that idea altogether: but being informed that New Carthage was the most important source of supplies to the enemy and of damage to the Romans in the present war, he had taken the trouble to make minute inquiries about it during the winter from those who were well informed. He learnt that it was nearly the only town in Iberia which possessed a harbour suitable for a fleet and naval force; that it lay very conveniently for the Carthaginians to make the sea passage from Libya; that they in fact had the bulk of their money and war material in it, as well as their hostages from the whole of Iberia; that, most important of all, the number of fighting men garrisoning the citadel only amounted to a thousand,—because no one would ever suppose that, while the Carthaginians commanded nearly the whole of Iberia, any one would conceive the idea of assaulting this town; that the other inhabitants were exceedingly numerous, but all consisted of craftsmen, mechanics, and fisher-folk, as far as possible removed from any knowledge of warfare. All this he regarded as being fatal to the town, in case of the sudden appearance of an enemy. Nor did he moreover fail to acquaint himself with the topography of New Carthage, or the nature of its defences, or the lie of the lagoon: but by means of certain fishermen who had worked there he had ascertained that the lagoon was quite shallow and fordable at most points; and that, generally speaking, the water ebbed every day towards evening sufficiently to secure this. These considerations convinced him that, if he could accomplish his purpose, he would not only damage his opponents, but gain a considerable advantage for himself; and that, if on the other hand he failed in effecting it, he would yet be able to secure the safety of his men owing to his command of the sea, provided he had once made his camp secure,—and this was easy, because of the wide dispersion of the enemy’s forces. He had therefore, during his residence in winter quarters, devoted himself to preparing for this operation to the exclusion of every other: and in spite of the magnitude of the idea which he had conceived, and in spite of his youth…

(Polybius, Histories, 10.8)

As we know, Scipio (later known as ‘Africanus’ after his victory over Hannibal), was a smart general. He did his research before attacking Qart Hadasht while Hannibal was attacking Italy.

As a result, the Iberian city was taken by Scipio in 209 B.C. and became known as ‘Cathago Nova’, which literally means ‘New New City’.

Digital reconstruction of Roman Carthago Nova

Carthago Nova, or ‘Colonia Urbs Julia Nova Carthago’, played an important role in Rome’s economy over the years. It was one of Rome’s major centres of trade and one of the main suppliers of the silver which was so important to pay Rome’s legions.

From Carthago Nova, Iberian goods were shipped to Italy and all over the Empire, including silver, salt, fish for garum, grain, and esparto grass which was used for rope making and basket weaving.

Under Roman rule, it was a safe city, and was the third major city in Iberia after Tarraco and Corduba.

In 44 B.C. it was made a colonia by Julius Caesar in recompense for the city’s help in his civil war against Pompey and, as a result, all free-born men of Carthago Nova were made Roman citizens.

Augustus showed further favour to the city by giving it new streets, a theatre, a proper forum, various monuments, an ‘Augusteum’, temples and a college.

Remains of the Roman theatre of Carthago Nova (today’s Cartagena)

By the mid-third century, after the period in which The Blood Road takes place, Carthago Nova fell on hard times with the disruption of the silver mining operations, and the abandonment of the eastern part of the city.

Emperor Diocletian tried to help the city by making it the capital of his newly-created province of Hispania Cathaginensis in around A.D. 298, but the respite only lasted for a short time.

In A.D. 409, the Vandals took the city, and it subsequently fell into the hands of the Visigoths in A.D. 425. From then on, it seemed Carthago Nova was destined to be ruled through a revolving door with power passing to the Byzantines, the Moors, and then into Christian hands during the Spanish Reconquista of the late Middle Ages.

This is the fascinating thing about ancient cities; no matter which one you choose to look at, you will find a long, rich history, marked by ups and downs. The fortunes of these cities ebbed and flowed like the sea itself, but more often than not, when you research them, you will find that Rome was there.

I hope that you’ve enjoyed this brief post on the history of Carthago Nova.

Stay tuned for Part VI of The World of The Blood Road when we will take a look at one of my favourite places in the world: Etruria.

Thank you for reading.

The Blood Road is available on-line now in e-book and paperback at major retailers. CLICK HERE to get your copy. You can also purchase directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing HERE.

If you are new to the Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series, you can check out the #1 best selling prequel, A Dragon among the Eagles for just 1.99 HERE.

 

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