Welcome back to The World of Isle of the Blessed, the blog series in which we take a look at the research, history and archaeology that went into the latest novel in the Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series.
In Part I, we looked at the hillfort of South Cadbury Castle which is one of the major settings of the book. If you missed that post, you can read it HERE.
In Part II, we’re going to be taking a look at another place that plays an important role in Isle of the Blessed: Roman Lindinis.
The settlement of Lindinis (also known as ‘Lendiniae’), as it is known in the seventh century Ravenna Cosmography (a list of place names from India to Ireland) is actually modern Ilchester, in Somerset, England.
Lindinis, as it was known during the Roman period, was located just a few miles from South Cadbury Castle, and Glastonbury, Somerset. This fifty acre settlement lies where the Dorchester road interests with the Fosse Way, one of the major roads of Roman Britain.
Map showing the route of the Fosse Way from Exeter to Lincoln, and running through Ilchester
During the Roman period, Somerset was an agriculturally rich area of the Empire, with many villa estates, such as that of Pitney (which also features in the story). These estates’ primary business was in crops such as spelt wheat, oats, barley and rye. The also raised livestock, mainly cattle, but also sheep, horses, goats, and pigs.
These Roman villa owners were wealthy, and Lindinis was one of the main markets where they brought their crops and livestock.
Aeneas and Dido mosaic from Low Ham Roman Villa near Ilchester
Lindinis was not always a Roman settlement, however.
It was originally a Celtic oppidum, a native center that consisted of a large enclosure with homes, food stores and livestock. One imagines Celtic Somerset as a place of peace and vitality.
But, in A.D. 43 the Romans arrived with the advent of the Claudian invasion of Britain. Forty-five thousand troops marched over the land, including four legions, and the native Britons fought, and lost. Vespasian, the future emperor, stormed the southern hillforts of Britain, including South Cadbury Castle, ushering in an age of Roman domination.
Possible remains of one of Lindinis’ Roman forts
Eventually, at Lindinis, two successive forts were built on the site to the south of the river: one from Nero’s reign, and another during the Flavian period. There is also evidence for a third fort to the northeast of the river crossing where a double ditch enclosure has been discovered.
Plan of Pre-Roman and Early Roman Ilchester (image from the Ilchester Parish Council)
The Roman invasion of Britain was a violent time, and that violence carried on through the Boudiccan revolt of A.D. 59. But when the blood stopped flowing, an age of Pax Romana settled on the southwest of Britannia, and Lindinis was at the heart of it.
Lindinis, however, was not the main settlement of Roman Somerset. To maintain peace and order, and keep the economy running, the Romans instituted various civitates, centres of local government in which tribal groups of the region participated.
The centre of town, what might later have been market
The council of a civitas was known as an ordo, and the members of the ordo were decurions, overseen by an executive, elected curia of two men. The ordo of a civitas usually included Romans, tribal aristocrats or local chieftains, and it was their job to administer local justice, put on public shows, see to religious taxation, the census, and represent the civitas in Londinium. Supreme authority, however, belonged to the Provincial Governor who was aided by a procurator, the ‘tax man’.
Ilchester crossing of the River Yeo. Remains of the Roman fort to the left.
There were three major civitates during the Roman period in southwestern Britannia: Durnovaria (modern Dorchester) the civitas of the Durotriges tribe, Isca Dumnoniorum (modern Exeter) the civitas of the Dumnonii, and to the north Corinium Dobunnorum (modern Cirencester) the tribal centre of the Dobunni.
Despite its large market and location at a crossroads along the artery of the Fosse Way over the river Yoe – in the southwest, the Fosse Way ran from Isca Dumnoniorum (modern Exeter) to Aquae Sulis (modern Bath) – Lindinis was not one of the major civitates of the region, though it did rival nearby Durnovaria.
Ilchester’s bridge over the river Yeo
In addition to a thriving market where wine, oil, clothing, ornaments, jewellery, tools, pottery and glass were sold, Lindinis also had gravel and stone streets, and stone walls (later). People also came to Lindinis to pay their taxes.
Where the road diverges in Ilchester – the left to Exeter, the right to Dorchester. See the bridge over the river directly ahead.
There was also a small garrison.
Lindinis may have seen itself as the civitas Durotrigum Lendiniensium, but it could not be an official civitas as one of the requirements for civitas status was a basilica or forum. Lindinis did not have either of those.
Plan of late Roman Ilchester (map from the Ilchester Parish Council)
Roman Lindinis had a large role to play in the economy of Roman Somerset, but perhaps not as large as its ordo would have liked. It also found itself in difficult situations during its time, for during the civil war (A.D. 193) between Septimius Severus, Pescennius Niger, and Clodius Albinus, Lindinis was forced to declare for Clodius Albinus who was in Britannia when he made his claim. At this time, new defences were built around Lindinis, as if in anticipation of the trouble to come.
Ah…politics.
In the book, Isle of the Blessed, Lucius Metellus Anguis, the main protagonist in the Eagles and Dragons series, has several run-ins with the ordo members of Lindinis’ ruling council who see him as a person of influence at the imperial court, a man who could help their small town to become much more.
Historically, despite its lack of a proper forum or basilica, it seems that Lindinis did succeed in attaining a measure of civitas status, for along Hadrian’s Wall, two inscriptions have been found bearing the name of a detachment from the ‘Civitas Durotragum Lendiniensis’, or the ‘Lindinis tribe of the Durotriges’.
This, despite the presence of the other three, official civitas settlements Durnovaria, Isca, and Corinium.
Who knows? Perhaps the persuasiveness of the ordo members of Lindinis, the settlement’s important location, and the size of its market helped to sway the Roman authorities to grant civitas status.
In Isle of the Blessed, we see how far the local politicians are willing to go.
I hope you’ve enjoyed part two of The World of Isle of the Blessed.
Next week, in Part III, we will look at the history, myth and legend surrounding what is known in Isle of the Blessed as Ynis Wytrin, that is, Glastonbury, England.
Thank you for reading.
Isle of the Blessed is now available in e-book and paperback from all major on-line retailers. If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series yet, you can start with the #1 bestselling A Dragon among the Eagles for just 0.99! Or get the first prequel novel, The Dragon: Genesis, for FREE by clicking HERE.
We’re excited to announce the official launch of Isle of the Blessed, Book IV in the #1 bestselling Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series.
Fans of this series have been waiting quite a long time for this book, but now the wait is over.
Sound the cornu and slam your gladii against your scuta!
Isle of the Blessed – Eagles and Dragons Book IV
At the peak of Rome’s might, a dragon is born among eagles, an heir to a line both blessed and cursed by the Gods for ages.
Emperor Septimius Severus’ war against the Caledonians has ended with a peace treaty. Rome has won.
As a reward for the blood they have shed, many of Rome’s warriors have been granted a reprieve from duty, including Lucius Metellus Anguis, prefect of the now famous Sarmatian cavalry.
The Gods seem finally to have granted Lucius a peaceful life as he builds a new home for his family upon an ancient hillfort in the south of Britannia. Lucius now finds that, after years of war and brutality, the most elusive peace, the peace within, is finally within his grasp.
But heroes are never without enemies, and Lucius, Rome’s famed Dragon, has many.
After an argument with traitorous local politicians, and a quest in which he is confronted by a dark goddess, Lucius realizes that his pastoral idyll is at an end. When war erupts in Caledonia once more, he is called away only to be assaulted on all fronts by his most deadly enemy.
The choices presented to Lucius by the Gods, his allies, and his friends are clear and terrifying. He can hand victory and power over to the wickedest men in the Empire, or he can fight for his life to create the world he believes in.
Will Lucius’ enemies and the powers of darkness overwhelm and destroy him? Or will he find the strength to survive the trials he faces and protect the people he loves?
This time, not even the Gods know…
We hope you like the sound of this one. It promises to take you on an adventure in the Roman Empire that you won’t forget, and the editorial team and beta readers have told us that this is Adam’s best book to date!
You can learn more and find all the links to get your copy ON THIS WEB PAGE.
Isle of the Blessed is available in e-book format at all major on-line retailers, and currently in paperback from Amazon.
If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series, you can start the series for FREE with the full-length novel, The Dragon: Genesis, which you can download by CLICKING HERE.
Commodus was guilty of many unseemly deeds, and killed a great many people.
(Cassius Dio, The Roman History)
Salvete, history-lovers!
Welcome back to The World of The Dragon: Genesis, the blog series about the research that went into our latest historical fantasy release set in the world of ancient Rome.
If you missed part six, about the Antonine Plague, you can read it HERE.
In this seventh and final part of the blog series, we’re going to be taking a brief look at the children of Marcus Aurelius and Faustina Minor (‘the younger’), the reign of Emperor Commodus, and the plots against his life.
Was Commodus really the monster we imagine him to be, the megalomaniacal ruler we were confronted with in the movie Gladiator?
Read on to learn more.
Faustina Minor and Marcus Aurelius as Venus and Mars – Capitoline Museum
Some people view the reigns of Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius as a sort of golden age of rulership in the Roman World. That was certainly true of Antoninus Pius, and perhaps less for Marcus Aurelius’ reign, but any sense of a golden age certainly ended with the accession of Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus who ruled as sole emperor from A.D. 180-192.
It was at this time that the Roman Empire perhaps took a turn for the worst. The time of the ‘five good emperors’ was at an end.
Because of popular culture, the two children of Marcus Aurelius and Faustina Minor that most people are aware of are Commodus and his sister, Annia Aurelia Galeria Lucilla, or ‘Lucilla’. However, what many may not know is that Marcus Aurelius and Faustina Minor had thirteen children together over the period of their thirty-year marriage.
Most of these young Aurelii died young. There was the first-born, Domitia Faustina, who died at the age of five in A.D. 151. Then there were Titus Aelius Antoninus and Titus Aelius Aurelius who both died in 149. After the birth of Lucilla in 150, two more children were born, Annia Galeria Aurelia Faustina, and Tiberius Aelius Antoninus who died in 151 and 155, respectively, before another unknown child died in 157. Titus Aurelius Fulvus Antoninus, Commodus’ twin brother, died at the age of four in 165, then Marcus Annius Verus Caesar passed at the age of seven in 169, followed by a young Hadrianus some time after that.
But there were other surviving siblings of Commodus and Lucilla who are not often mentioned in the history books, notably three more sisters: Annia Aurelia Fadilla (c. 159-211), Annia Cornificia Faustina Minor (160-212), and the youngest of Marcus Aurelius and Faustina Minor’s children, Vibia Aurelia Sabina (170-216).
Obviously, infant mortality rates were very high in the ancient world, even for the upper classes. But, in hindsight, when one looks at the number of children Marcus Aurelius and Faustina Minor had, despite their mortality rates, one has to wonder if the emperor was indeed obsessed with having an blood-heir to the throne, despite the fact that he and his illustrious predecessors came to the throne through adoption.
Before we look at the reign of Commodus, let us first look at the children of Marcus Aurelius who did survive to play a part in the drama that was to unfold after the death of their father in A.D. 180.
Statue of Lucilla in the Bardo Museum, Tunis
Annia Aurelia Galeria Lucilla (150-182) was the eldest daughter to survive her parents. She was born about eleven years before Commodus. As we know, she was betrothed and wed as a teenager to her father’s co-ruler, Lucius Verus. After Verus passed away from illness, perhaps from the plague his troops had brought back from the East, she was forced to marry Tiberius Claudius Pompeianus, a respected general of her father’s who was quite a bit older than her, having been born in A.D. 125.
Snapshot of family tree of Marcus Aurelius and Faustina Minor (Wikimedia Commons – Nerva/Antonine Dynasty)
Lucilla’s younger sister Annia Aurelia Fadilla (c. 159-211) was born and raised in Rome and was married to Marcus Peducaeus Plautius Quintillus, a senator, consul and augur. He was the nephew of Lucius Verus, but also became one of Commodus’ main advisors.
Fadilla and her family lived in a private palace on the Capitoline Hill, and it was she whom the ancient author, Herodian, says warned Commodus about the snaky freedman, Cleander, and a plot upon the emperor in 189.
But more on plots later…
Annia Cornificia Faustina Minor – sister of Commodus and Lucilla
Another sister of Commodus and Lucilla was Annia Cornificia Faustina Minor (160-112). She was married to an African Roman by the name of Marcus Petronius Sura Mamertinus who was consul in 182. This Faustina Minor and her family may have been with her father, Marcus Aurelius at the time of his death in Germania.
Around 190 or 192, Commodus ordered the deaths of Faustina Minor’s husband, son, and most of her in-laws. So, relations with her brother were strained at best. But, she survived Commodus’ reign, and even had an affair with the short-lived Emperor Pertinax. She lived into her fifties until, in A.D. 212, her death was ordered by Emperor Caracalla. Rather than be executed, this daughter of Marcus Aurelius committed suicide.
Vibia Aurelia Sabina – youngest sister of Commodus and Lucilla (Wikimedia Commons)
The youngest and longest surviving child of Marcus Aurelius and Faustina Minor was Vibia Aurelia Sabina (c. 170-216). She was born in Pannonia and travelled much throughout the empire.
The image we have of young Sabina is of an innocent, kind girl growing up with chaos all around her. Before her father’s death in 180, she was betrothed to an African Roman senator by the name of Lucius Antistius Burrus from near Hippo Regius. They were eventually married in Rome, after which Sabina moved to North Africa with her husband.
Despite a problem with her husband, which we will get into shortly, Sabina went on to marry Lucius Aurelius Agaclytus, a freedman of her father’s who may have foiled a plot against Marcus Aurelius. They had no children, but Sabina became a prominent Italian citizen of Roman North Africa who was well-loved by the Romans and native Berber population. She fared much better than her sisters.
Denarius of Commodus
And what of Commodus, the ruler at the centre of this family of orphan Aurelii?
Well, Commodus comes across as someone who was given too much power far too early, kind of like a child star who hits it big at a young age and then spirals out of control.
At the age of fifteen, in A.D. 177, Commodus became joint ruler with his father and was given the titles of ‘Caesar’, ‘Imperator’ and ‘Augustus’.
Cassius Dio, a contemporary of the period, gives us an account of his character:
This man [Commodus] was not naturally wicked, but, on the contrary, as guileless as any man that ever lived. His great simplicity, however, together with his cowardice, made him the slave of his companions, and it was through them that he at first, out of ignorance, missed the better life and then was led on into lustful and cruel habits, which soon became second nature. And this, I think, Marcus clearly perceived beforehand. Commodus was nineteen years old when his father died, leaving him many guardians, among whom were numbered the best men of the senate. But their suggestions and counsels Commodus rejected, and after making a truce with the barbarians he rushed to Rome; for he hated all exertion and craved the comfortable life of the city.
(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, Book LXXIII, 1)
At first, Commodus did seem to make an attempt to rule well. He dealt (not personally) with minor problems like a Caledonian breech of the Antonine Wall in 183, and the subsequent mutiny there that was put down by Pertinax. He also organized shipments of agricultural produce from Africa to Rome, and freed the tenants of Roman growers in that province from a sort of servitude.
But these small gestures, it seems, were not enough to dissuade his detractors or would-be assassins.
The Roman Forum (by Becchetti)
Commodus devoted most of his life to ease and to horses and to combats of wild beasts and of men. In fact, besides all that he did in private, he often slew in public large numbers of men and beasts as well. For example, all alone with his own hands, he dispatched five hippopotami together with two elephants on two successive days; and he also killed rhinoceroses and a camelopard. This is what I have to say with reference to his career as a whole.
(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, Book LXXIII, 9)
And what of his siblings? How did they feel about their emperor/brother?
We already know that Fadilla helped to foil a plot by Cleander against her brother in 189, but not all of Commodus’ sisters were so forgiving of their brother.
The plot we do know of for certain is that of Lucilla’s. Hers was the first plot against Commodus.
In A.D. 182, Lucilla and her cousin, Ummidius Quadratus, a Roman senator, plotted to kill Commodus and place Lucilla’s stepson, Pompeianus (son of her husband, the old general Tiberius Claudius Pompeianus) upon the imperial throne. It is supposed that Lucilla and her stepson may even have been intimately involved.
It must have been the case that Commodus quickly showed himself to be incapable of rule, for Lucilla and her fellow conspirators wasted little time in plotting. However, the assassination attempt was badly botched and the younger Pompeianus and Quadratus were executed, and Lucilla was exiled to the island of Capri where she was later murdered at her brother’s command.
Oddly enough, Lucilla’s husband, the elder Pompeianus, was not punished, even though it was his son she had tried to put on the throne. The general subsequently retired.
The historian, Herodian, describes the failed plot:
He sent out to rule the provinces men who were either his companions in crime or were recommended to him by criminals. He became so detested by the senate that he in his turn was moved with cruel passion for the destruction of that great order, and from having been despised he became bloodthirsty.
Finally the actions of Commodus drove Quadratus and Lucilla, with the support of Tarrutenius
Paternus, the prefect of the guard, to form a plan for his assassination. The task of slaying him was assigned to Claudius Pompeianus, a kinsman. But he, as soon as he had an opportunity to fulfil his mission, strode up to Commodus with a drawn sword, and, bursting out with these words, “This dagger the senate sends thee,” betrayed the plot like a fool, and failed to accomplish the design, in which many others along with himself were implicated. After this fiasco, first Pompeianus and Quadratus were executed, and then Norbana and Norbanus and Paralius; and the latter’s mother and Lucilla were driven into exile.
(Herodian, Historia Augusta, The Life of Commodus, 3-4)
Lucilla and Commodus in the movie Gladiator
It is not known whether Lucilla had been in touch with her younger sisters about the plot against Commodus. One supposes that they did not know, especially Fadilla, who would save him from Cleander later, or Sabina who was just twelve years old at the time.
What we do know is that after Lucilla’s betrayal, things changed for the worse in Commodus. The failed plot seemed to have ushered in a reign of terror. He became more hostile toward the senate and executed many, including his chief advisor Tigidius Perennis in 185, whom he replaced with Cleander.
Commodus, at this time, also came under the influence his mistress, Marcia, and his chamberlain, Eclectus. He tried to appease the populace by putting on extravagant games and shows, and to ingratiate himself to the troops by increasing their pay. All of this led to a huge financial crisis.
And what did he do to alleviate the situation? He confiscated the property of the rich.
Commodus was good at making enemies.
But his megalomania went even further, for he renamed Rome ‘Colonia Commodiana’ (Commodus’ Colony), and came to believe that he was Hercules incarnate.
Commodus as Hercules
Now this “Golden One”, this “Hercules”, this “god” (for he was even given this name, too) suddenly drove into Rome one afternoon from his suburb and conducted thirty horse-races in the space of two hours. These proceedings had much to do with his running short of funds. He was also fond, it is true, of bestowing gifts, and frequently gave largesses to the populace at the rate of one hundred and forty denarii per man; but most of his expenditures were for the objects I have mentioned. Hence he brought accusations against both men and women, slaying some and to others selling their lives for their property. And finally he ordered us, our wives, and our children each to contribute two gold pieces every year on his birthday as a kind of first-fruits, and commanded the senators in all the other cities to give five denarii apiece. Of this, too, he saved nothing, but spent it all disgracefully on his wild beasts and his gladiators.
(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, Book LXXIII, 16)
Commodus’ increasing brutality, as well as his neglect of duty, drove other parties to seek his end. In 188 another conspiracy against him came about, but this time it involved the husband of Commodus’ youngest sister, Sabina.
Unbeknownst to Sabina, who was just eighteen years old at the time, Lucius Antistius Burrus plotted with others against Commodus. Details about this plot are lacking, but we do know that it failed and that Burrus was put to death.
Sabina, however, was spared, perhaps because she was not involved in the plot. She remained in North Africa and married Agaclytus to survive the rest of her family until A.D. 217.
The year after Burrus’ plot against Commodus, in 189, there came the plot that was set by Cleander, and foiled by Fadilla and, according to Herodian, another sister, possibly Faustina Minor, whose family had not yet been executed by her brother.
One can imagine the paranoia that must have beset Commodus (and indeed his sisters!) at this time, and how it would have fuelled the fires of his mania.
All plots upon Emperor Commodus had failed to that point, and many people had been executed in the wake of those failures…that is…until the very end of A.D. 192.
On New Year’s Day, in A.D. 193, Commodus was due to present himself to the people of Rome as Consul and Gladiator. He had reached new heights of violence at that point in time, and had become a threat to everyone.
The Emperor Commodus Leaving the Arena at the Head of the Gladiators (by Edwin Howland Blashfield)
Cassius Dio was present at that time, and gives us our most detailed, surviving account of the day and the plot involving many players, including Commodus’ mistress, Marcia, his chamberlain, Eclectus, the Praetorian Prefect, Aemilius Laetus, and a famous athlete by the name of Narcissus:
This fear was shared by all, by us senators as well as by the rest. And here is another thing that he did to us senators which gave us every reason to look for our death. Having killed an ostrich and cut off his head, he came up to where we were sitting, holding the head in his left hand and in his right hand raising aloft his bloody sword; and though he spoke not a word, yet he wagged his head with a grin, indicating that he would treat us in the same way. And many would indeed have perished by the sword on the spot, for laughing at him (for it was laughter rather than indignation that overcame us), if I had not chewed some laurel leaves, which I got from my garland, myself, and persuaded the others who were sitting near me to do the same, so that in the steady movement of our armies we might conceal the fact that we were laughing.
After the events described he raised our spirits. For when he was intending to fight once more as a gladiator, he bade us enter the amphitheatre in the equestrian garb and in our woollen cloaks, a thing that we never do when going to the amphitheatre except when one of the emperors has passed away; and on the last day his helmet was carried out by the gates through which the dead are taken out. These events caused absolutely every one of us to believe that we were surely about to be rid of him.
And he actually did die, or rather was slain, before long. For Laetus and Eclectus, displeased at the things he was doing, and also inspired by fear, in view of the threats he made against them because they tried to prevent him from acting in this way, formed a plot against him. It seems that Commodus wished to slay both the consuls, Erucius Clarus and Sosius Falco, and on New Year’s Day to issue forth both as consul and secutor from the quarters of the gladiators; in fact, he had the first cell there, as if he were one of them. Let no one doubt this statement. Indeed, he actually cut off the head of the Colossus, and substituted for it a likeness of his own head; then, having given it a club and placed a bronze lion at its feet, so as to cause it to look like Hercules, he inscribed on it, in addition to the list of his titles which I have already indicated, these words: “Champion of secutores; only left-handed fighter to conquer twelve times (as I recall the number) one thousand men.”
For these reasons Laetus and Eclectus attacked him, after making Marcia their confidant. At any rate, on the last day of the year, at night, when people were busy with the holiday, they caused Marcia to administer poison to him in some beef. But the immoderate use of wine and baths, which was habitual with him, kept him from succumbing at once, and instead he vomited up some of it; and thus suspecting the truth, he indulged in some threats. Then they sent Narcissus, an athlete, against him, and caused this man to strangle him while he was taking a bath. Such was the end of Commodus, after he had ruled twelve years, nine months, and fourteen days. He had lived thirty-one years and four months; and with him the line of the genuine Aurelii ceased to rule.
(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, Book LXXIII, 21-22)
Marcus Aurelius and family performing a sacrificium
It is a pathetic end to the rule of the dynasty, and one can’t help but wonder how Commodus’ surviving sisters – Fadilla, Faustina Minor, and Sabina – felt once their brother was gone. Faustina Minor may have felt justice had been done, even if she may not have been involved, for she had lost her family to her brother’s brutality. But Fadilla had saved him previously, and Sabina probably barely knew him. The dangers to the three of them would come later, during the reign of the winning dynasty in the subsequent civil war, the Severan dynasty, and the rule of Caracalla, another son who was not the ruler that his father was.
What was it about imperial fathers and their lesser sons?
Marcus Aurelius, by all accounts was a wise man, and yet, despite having inherited the imperial throne through adoption, he appointed a lesser person as his successor. The same occurred with Septimius Severus when he appointed his two sons Caracalla and Geta to succeed him. Severus even sought to repair the image of Commodus in 195, even going so far as to deify him!
Under Aurelius and Severus, the empire reached great heights, and yet it could hardly have fallen lower under each of their sons.
But such is the world of family and politics in ancient Rome. It doesn’t always make sense to us today, but it certainly is fascinating and entertaining.
We do hope you’ve enjoyed The World of The Dragon: Genesis blog series.
If you’ve missed any of the posts in this seven-part series, you can read them all togetherHERE.
If you have not already downloaded your FREE COPY of The Dragon: Genesis, you can do so by CLICKING HERE.
Lastly, if you have read the book, please consider leaving a small review or comment at the bottom of the page HERE.
Eagles and Dragons Publishing will be taking a short summer break but will be returning in a few weeks with more posts about history and some exciting, highly-anticipated releases.
Stay tuned… Happy Summer, and thank you for reading.
Welcome back to The World of The Dragon: Genesis. In our last post on the research that went into this latest book, we looked at the Evocati of ancient Rome. If you missed it, you can read it HERE.
The Dragon: Genesis spans the reigns of a few emperors. It begins during the reign of Antoninus Pius, but then moves on into unique period for Rome, a time when it was ruled jointly by two emperors, Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus.
Surprisingly, as we shall see, these two men ruled amicably, despite their differences. However, the peace of Antoninus’ reign was over, and the new emperors faced pressures and threats from outside.
Map of the Roman Empire at its greatest extent (Oxford Research Encyclopedias)
First, we need to set the stage.
By the time Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus came to the imperial throne, the Roman Empire had enjoyed a period of unprecedented peace under the well-loved emperor, Antoninus Pius, who had reigned for the longest period of time since Augustus, from A.D. 138-161.
One of the only sources that survives for this period in Rome’s history is the Historia Augusta, a highly-contested, often doubted, source that relates some of the details of the reigns of certain of Rome’s emperors.
During Antoninus’ reign, a young Marcus Aurelius was already making himself known in the upper echelons of Roman society, so much so that he was a favourite of Emperor Hadrian before Antoninus Pius donned the purple.
It is believed that Emperor Hadrian would have liked for Marcus Aurelius to succeed him, but because of his young age, he chose Antoninus Pius. Prior to his death in A.D. 138, Hadrian, who cared much for the young Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus, seems to have pressured Antoninus Pius into adopting them, thus ensuring their possible involvement in a later succession. Hadrian seems to have been a forward-thinking man.
Antoninus Pius, of course, agreed.
Marcus did not seem suitable, being at the time but eighteen years of age; and Hadrian chose for adoption Antoninus Pius, the uncle-in‑law of Marcus, with the provision that Pius should in turn adopt Marcus and that Marcus should adopt Lucius Commodus. And it was on the day that Verus was adopted that he dreamed that he had shoulders of ivory, and when he asked if they were capable of bearing a burden, he found them much stronger than before. When he discovered, moreover, that Antoninus had adopted him, he was appalled rather than overjoyed, and when told to move to the private home of Hadrian, reluctantly departed from his mother’s villa. And when the members of his household asked him why he was sorry to receive royal adoption, he enumerated to them the evil things that sovereignty involved.
(Historia Augusta, The Life of Marcus Aurelius 5)
Then, in A.D. 140, Marcus Aurelius was made consul with Antoninus and given the title of ‘Caesar’ which officially made him Antoninus’ heir.
Now, Antoninus, who was married to Hadrian’s niece, Faustina (the Elder), did have four children, two sons and two daughters, but they all died young, except for his daughter Faustina (the Younger).
In A.D. 146, Marcus Aurelius was married to Faustina the Younger, further cementing his role as Antoninus’ successor, a role he is said not to have wanted.
Gold aureus of Antoninus Pius
As time passed, Antoninus Pius grew older and weaker, and Marcus Aurelius took on more administrative duties for the empire, especially after the death of Antoninus’ trusted Praetorian Prefect, Gavius Maximus.
Then, in A.D. 161, while at an estate in Etruria, Antoninus grew ill and called the imperial counciltogether to formally pass the state to Marcus Aurelius. It is said that one of the last words he uttered when a tribune came to him for the night’s watchword was aequanimitas, or equanimity.
One has to wonder if Antoninus Pius really did feel a true sense of calm as he faced death, knowing that he had ruled well and that he was leaving the Empire in capable hands.
The reign of Marcus Aurelius was underway.
Marcus Aurelius
But Marcus Aurelius did not want to rule, and so the wheels were set in motion for the reign of two emperors and friends.
However, before we go further, let us look at these two men. Who were Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus?
Marcus Aurelius was born Marcus Annius Verus, and studies played a large role in the young man’s life. His teachers included Diognetus and Tuticius Proclus who seems to have introduced him to philosophy, a subject that Marcus took to immediately.
Philosophy played a large role in the life of Marcus Aurelius, affecting his life and his character. Even in A.D. 140 when he was made Emperor Antoninus’ heir, Marcus began studying with the sophist, Herodes Atticus, the man who built many monuments in Greece, including the great theatre beside the Acropolis of Athens. He also studied with Marcus Cornelius Fronto.
But it was the philosopher Quintus Junius Rusticus who is said to have introduced Marcus to the ways of stoicism that he would come to love and adhere to. Marcus Aurelius’ work, Meditations, was the product of his stoic view of the world and it is still widely read to this day.
One could say that stoicism is what got Marcus Aurelius through the more difficult times of his reign.
As far as a home life, Marcus Aurelius had thirteen children with his wife/cousin, Faustina the Younger, and among these were Lucilla and Commodus.
The Philosopher’s Life? Mosaic from Pompeii depicting Plato and students
It seems that Hadrian’s favour of Marcus, and the condition he might have placed on Antoninus to adopt Marcus in order to succeed, weighed heavily on the young philosopher. Marcus was Antoninus’ sole heir, but when Antoninus died in A.D. 161, and the Senate made Marcus ‘Augustus’, ‘Imperator’, and ‘Pontifex Maximus’, it is said that he resisted. He preferred the philosophic life, but his stoicism compelled him to accept his duty, and despite his reluctance, he rose to the challenge:
Toward the people he acted just as one acts in a free state. He was at all times exceedingly reasonable both in restraining men from evil and in urging them to good, generous in rewarding and quick to forgive, thus making bad men good, and good men very good, and he even bore with unruffled temper the insolence of not a few.
(Historia Augusta, The Life of Marcus Aurelius 12)
The Senate was going to confirm him as sole emperor, but Marcus refused unless Lucius Verus, his ‘brother’ beneath Antonius Pius, was given equal powers.
The Senate approved, and though officially, Marcus had more authority, Rome had two emperors for the very first time in its history: Imperator Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus, and Imperator Lucius Aurelius Verus Augustus.
Lucius Verus
What do we know about Lucius Verus?
Apart from what the Historia Augusta tells us, we know relatively little about Marcus Aurelius’ co-ruler.
Born Lucius Ceionius Commodus (the Younger), he was a member of the Nerva-Antonine dynasty, and his father, Lucius Aelius Caesar was Emperor Hadrian’s fist adopted son and heir. However, Verus’ father died in A.D. 138, and that is when Hadrian decided on Antoninus Pius as his successor.
Lucius Verus and Marcus Aurelius, though friends and ‘brothers’, appear to have been quite different.
Whereas Marcus Aurelius remains the calm stoic, preferring philosophy and a quieter life, Lucius Verus’ interests were said to be lower. He was fanatical about the games and chariot races, as well as gladiatorial combat, and he was said to enjoy lavish parties. He was quite the opposite of Marcus.
Lucius Ceionius Aelius Commodus Verus Antoninus — called Aelius by the wish of Hadrian, Verus and Antoninus because of his relationship to Antoninus — is not to be classed with either the good or the bad emperors. For, in the first place, it is agreed that if he did not bristle with vices, no more did he abound in virtues; and, in the second place, he enjoyed, not unrestricted power, but a sovereignty on like terms and equal dignity with Marcus, from whom he differed, however, as far as morals went, both in the laxity of his principles and the excessive licence of his life. For in character he was utterly ingenuous and unable to conceal a thing.
(Historia Augusta, The Life of Lucius Verus 1)
Despite their differences, the two emperors seemed to have been able to make things work. It was as if they balanced each other. Marcus Aurelius is said to have disapproved of his co-ruler’s behaviour and vices, but he also saw that Lucius Verus fulfilled his imperial duties. Marcus even went so far as to betroth his eleven year old daughter, Lucilla, to Lucius Verus.
Things were looking bright in Rome. The emperors enjoyed the love of the people, and yet, there was great respect for the Senate and its traditions. Free speech was permitted, and the public service in government was running smoothly.
The Forum Romanum with the temple of Antoninus and Faustina at the back right
The reign of Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus, however, was not to be the period of Pax Romana that marked the golden age of Antonius Pius.
Sadly, the drums of war began to sound across the Empire.
Two major wars marked the period: the Parthian war (A.D. 161 – 166) in the East, and the Marcomannic Wars (A.D. 166 – 180) in the North.
Because of aggressions shown by Vologasses IV of Parthia, and the subsequent massacre of one legion led by Marcus Severianus, the governor of Cappadocia, it was decided that Rome’s legions needed to march east.
The campaign was led by Lucius Verus, while Marcus Aurelius remained in Rome.
In fact, Verus spent most of his rule in Antioch, overseeing the Parthian campaign which was, in many ways, a success. Order was eventually restored.
It is said that Verus was a responsible commander and that he brought back discipline to the ranks of the Syrian legions who had grown soft during the prior peace. He was a good commander who knew when and how to delegate to men who were more knowledgeable, including his generals Marcus Claudius Fronto, and Martius Verus.
However, his vices followed him there, and in Antioch he is said to have lived a life of extreme luxury with grand parties. And he kept himself updated on the chariot racing in Rome by ordering regular reports sent to him about his favourite teams.
He also spend a great deal of time in the East with his mistress, Panthea, a low-born woman who was said to be a great beauty. Still, despite this, he did travel to Ephesus c. A.D. 163 to marry Marcus Aurelius’ daughter, Lucilla, who was only about fourteen at the time. She became Lucilla Augusta and they had three children together, all of whom died young. After the marriage, Verus returned to Antioch.
Coin depicting Lucilla Augusta, daughter of Marcus Aurelius and wife of Lucius Verus
Lucius Verus certainly preferred bread and circuses to Marcus Aurelius’ love of learning and philosophy, but still, they seem to have worked well together.
When the Parthian campaign was successfully concluded, Lucius Verus was given the title of Parthicus Maximus. He and his men returned to Rome, but they were not only carrying coronae of victory with them. They also brought plague.
We will cover the ‘Antonine Plague’, as it is known, in the next post in this blog series, but suffice it to say, it was devastating.
And as Rome fought the plague at home, the Germanic tribes took the opportunity to attack in the North.
Depiction of the Marcomannic Wars on the Column of Marcus Aurelius
The Marcomannic Wars raged from A.D. 166 – 180 in a series of three major campaigns that took Rome’s legions across the Danube frontier against the rebellious tribes which included the Quadi, Marcomanni, Iazyges, Sarmatians, and the Dacians who had been peaceful for a time during the reign of Antoninus. It was an all-out offensive by the barbarian tribes.
This time, both Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus marched north with the legions to wage a war that would last the rest of their lives.
After two years of campaigning, the two emperors returned to Rome and it was then that Lucius Verus fell ill. Some said that it was food poisoning that killed him, but modern historians believe that it may well have been the plague that had returned with his men from Parthia.
Lucius Verus died and was grieved by Marcus Aurelius who, fittingly, put on games in his honour. He also had his co-emperor deified by the Senate as ‘Divus Verus’.
Marcus Aurelius now ruled alone.
Map of Marcomannic Wars (Wikimedia Commons)
After the death of Verus, Marcus Antoninus held the empire alone, a nobler man by far and more abounding in virtues, especially as he was no longer hampered by Verus’ faults, neither by those of excessive candour and hot-headed plain speaking, from which Verus suffered through natural folly, nor by those others which had particularly irked Marcus Antoninus even from his earliest years, the principles and habits of a depraved mind. Such was Marcus’ own repose of spirit that neither in grief nor in joy did he ever change countenance, being wholly given over to the Stoic philosophy, which he had not only learned from all the best masters, but also acquired for himself from every source.
(Historia Augusta, The Life of Marcus Aurelius 16)
Marcus Aurelius has come down to us as one of the most noble emperors of Rome, the last of the ‘five good emperors’ as they have come to be known.
After the death of his friend and co-emperor, Marcus Aurelius brought the Marcomannic Wars to a successful conclusion. He also improved the judicial system as well as the system for distributing food. The management of the treasury was made more efficient too. He saw to the care of children, and constantly improved the civil service of which he had been a part in his early career. The Senate too, remained respected.
If he made one mistake during his reign, it was perhaps to trust his own son.
After the death of Lucius Verus and a period of lone rule, Marcus Aurelius named his son, Commodus, as co-ruler in A.D. 177. We will not go into the details of Commodus’ rule here. We need only know that it was nothing like his father’s reign, or Antoninus Pius’ before him.
Equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius in the Capitoline Museum
Being the ruler of the greatest empire in the world could not have been an easy burden, especially for a man like Marcus Aurelius who had duty thrust upon him. This was in contrast to the life of thinking which he obviously preferred. In many ways, perhaps many of us can relate today. How many people live lives they had not intended for themselves?
Marcus Aurelius’ stoic philosophy no doubt helped him to come to terms with what fate had dealt him, but perhaps his insistence to the Senate that Lucius Verus rule with him was his way of alleviating some of the burden he felt?
It is difficult to say, but one thing we can be certain of is that, despite the lack of sources, the reign of Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus will always stand out in the history of Rome as a time like no other.
If you have not read our latest historical fantasy novel, The Dragon: Genesis, you can download a free copy on the Eagles and Dragons website by CLICKING HERE.
Be sure to watch for the next post in The World of The Dragon: Genesis, where we will be taking a brief look at the effects of the Antonine Plague.
Welcome back to The World of The Dragon: Genesis, the blog series in which we’re delving into the research behind our latest historical fantasy release, The Dragon: Genesis. If you haven’t downloaded your free copy of the book yet, you can do so HERE.
In Part III we looked at the division of the province of Dacia in the years after Trajan’s conquest. If you missed that, you can read it HERE.
Today, in Part IV, we’re going to be taking a brief look at a class of soldiers among the veterans of ancient Rome and how they often provided a strong back-bone in the ranks of Rome’s legions. We’re going to be looking at the Evocati.
In truth, primary and secondary sources do not have a great deal to say about the Evocati of ancient Rome. And yet, they were important, highly-respected members of society across the Empire.
So, what exactly was an evocatus?
The basic definition is that an evocatus was a retired Roman soldier who returned to duty after his completed term of service.
Some of you might remember this scene from the HBO hit series, ROME, in which Lucius Vorenus decides to go back into the service as an evocatus:
HBO’s ROME was a great series, but this scene seems more akin to the vigil kept by a newly-made knight during the Middle Ages. Truthfully, we don’t know how much, if any, ceremony was involved around becoming an evocatus. It may have been more of a clerical process, though religion was a big part of daily life.
What the scene above does, however, is portray the weight of the decision that re-enlisting might have had for a Roman who had already served for years in the legions.
From what we can gather, the Evocati gained more importance and respect during the Empire versus the Republic.
During the Roman Republic, the Evocati were ‘called-out’, which is where the meaning of the word comes from. This implies that they were compelled to return to service rather than given the choice. Calling out the Evocati might have been akin to instituting a draft in the Roman world.
During the Empire, however, veteran soldiers were invited to continue service as evocati, or they re-enlisted willingly.
There were two classes of evocati– the regular evocati of the legions, and the Evocati Augusti, the ‘Emperor’s Evocati’, who were former Praetorians who became evocati.
Before we go further, we should take a brief look at the veterans of ancient Rome.
Firstly, how long a man served depended on which military force he was a part of. The lengths of time shift slight back and forth over the centuries, but generally, a legionary soldier served for 20 years, a Praetorian guardsman served or 16 years, and an auxiliary trooper served for about 26 years.
These terms of service might seem short to us today, especially when some people spend up to 35 years in a career, but it is important to keep in mind that the average age of mortality in the ancient world was much younger than today.
Twenty years spent in the legions was a much greater portion of a man’s life than we might think.
For veterans, the type of discharge one received was important, as it also determined the type life one might have enjoyed afterward. The discharge types were missio causaria (discharge through injury or illness), missio ignominiosa (dishonourable discharge), and honesta missio (honourable discharge).
If one completed the full term of service, and received an honourable discharge, then life was often pretty good. Veterans had legal status in ancient Rome, and were protected by laws granting them certain rights and immunities. They could go on to be local decurions (a sort of city councilor), and they could form collegia.
Veterans received land grants too, and it is said that Emperor Augustus settled about 300,000 veterans in colonies across the empire.
Emperor Augustus
Upon being honourably discharged, veterans also received money, in addition to land. A legionary received 3000 denarii (later raised to 5000), and a Praetorian received 5000 denarii (later raised to 8250). Soldiers were also given back the savings they had been forced to put away during their time in the army. Under Hadrian, the land grants to veterans stopped, but they were still given fair financial recompense.
It seems that world leaders today could take their cue from the ancient Romans when it comes to taking care of veterans after their service is finished.
Veterans were leaders in coloniae across the Empire, and there was a peace and security present where veterans settled. This in turn attracted other civilians as the veterans also provided a skilled workforce locally. They were good for the economy too.
One example of a thriving veteran colonia on the edge of the Empire is Thamugadi, in Numidia, which was located a short distance from the legionary fortress of Lambaesis.
Aerial view of the colonia of Thamugadi, Numidia (North Africa), where veterans of the III Augustan Legion at Lambaesis were settled.
Not everyone was happy, however, with the presence of Roman veterans. Tacitus tells us of the tension between local Britons and their retired Roman conquerors:
And the humiliated Iceni feared still worse, now that they had been reduced to provincial status. So they rebelled. With them rose the Trinovantes and others. Servitude had not broken them, and they had secretly plotted together to become free again. They particularly hated the Roman ex-soldiers who had recently established a settlement at Camulodunum. The settlers drove the Trinovantes from their homes and land, and called them prisoners and slaves. The troops encouraged the settlers’ outrages, since their own way of behaving was the same – and they looked forward to similar license for themselves. (Tacitus, Annals XIV.33)
If most veterans who had been honourably discharged seemed to enjoy a good life (for them as Romans, that is), doing as they pleased on their granted lands, why might they have considered joining the ranks of the Evocati and going back to war?
Why were the Evocati even needed with so vast an empire?
Well, the Evocati were a sort of ready, trained militia that could be called upon in times of emergency, such as during the Boudiccan revolt of A.D. 60 when Governor Paulinus Suetonius called upon 2500 evocati to join the fighting. As Tacitus tell us, “the old battle-experienced soldiers longed to hurl their javelins. So Suetonius confidently gave the signal for battle.”
Artist impression of veterans defending Camulodunum
Evocati reported directly to the governor of a Roman province, so, in times of emergency, they could be used to reinforce the garrison.
Other reasons men might join the Evocati were the need for money if they had fallen on hard times, or even the need for purpose in life after the army. Just as today, it may not have been easy for a career soldier to reintegrate into civilian society, and so many might have welcomed the opportunity to go back to the ranks.
Lastly, men could be requested to re-enter service by the consul or their former commander. This happened frequently during civil wars. At the battle of Pharsalus, Pompey used 2000 evocati against Caesar, and later, Octavian enlisted 3000 evocati when going up against Marcus Antonius. In A.D. 67, Mucianus, the governor of Syria, is said to have enlisted 13,000 evocati to move against Emperor Vitellius.
I cannot give the exact strength…for the Evocati. Augustus was the first to employ this corps when he re-enlisted those troops who had served under Julius Caesar to fight against Antony, and he kept them in service afterward. To this day, they constitute a special corps and carry ceremonial rods as centurions do.(Cassius Dio, The Roman History 24)
When Augustus made the Evocati a sort of official class, as hinted at by Cassius Dio, was it just so that they could fight in times of emergency, or did they have some other purpose? What incentives were there for a veteran who had already served for years in the army to return to service?
Praetorian officers
It seems that when a man became an evocatus, he had special privileges. The Evocati did not go back to digging ditches and manning the front lines in battle. They were too valuable an asset for that.
Apart from fighting when the need arose, the Evocati fulfilled various other roles. They became instructors of aquilifers and other standard bearers, and physical trainers for the regular troops. Many evocati returned to the ranks to be officers or qualified and skilled administrators in the legions. Some joined the vigiles, Rome’s police and firefighting force. Others were army surveyors, architects, and quarter masters.
There were many roles an evocatus could fill in the legions.
More often, the higher-ranking and skilled evocati came from the Praetorian Guard, though sometimes from the regular legions. It could be a plum job.
Grave stele of Marcus Valerius Celerinus, a veteran stationed on the German frontier
Grave Stele of Mira and Marcus Attius Rufus, veteran of II Adiutrix legion
Rome had a massive military force when you consider the regular legions, Praetorian Guard, and numerous auxiliary forces across the Empire. It has been estimated that about 250 men left each legion every year, and that about 15,000 soldiers retired from the Roman military annually.
That’s a huge number of trained troops to loose on a regular basis!
But Rome took care of it’s veterans for the most part. Men were rewarded accordingly for their years of service with money and lands. They could become valued and respected members of society, leaders in their own right. And even after their term as evocati, these veterans maintained that respect.
The Evocati of ancient Rome were, it seems, not only a skilled fighting force that could be called upon in times of need, but they were also a respected and important class in Roman society.
It may not have been a lavish lifestyle, but it does seem that life as an evocatus might have been better than most.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this post about the Evocati in ancient Rome, and the research that went into creating one of the characters in The Dragon: Genesis.
If you have not already downloaded your FREE copy of The Dragon: Genesis, you can do so by CLICKING HERE.
Stay tuned for the next post in The World of The Dragon: Genesis when we will take a brief look at the joint rule of Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus.
Welcome to Part I of this new blog series celebrating the release of the latest Eagles and Dragons series novel The Dragon: Genesis.
In this blog series, we’ll be sharing the research that went into the novel with you, looking at the history, settings, themes, and historical personages that are related to the story which takes place during the second century A.D.
Map of the Roman Empire at its greatest extent (Oxford Research Encyclopedias)
When we think of the Roman Empire, what often comes to mind is the image of marching legions spreading out over the world. We also conjure images or memories of great ruins on the edges of Rome’s empire such as the massive amphitheater at El Jem in Tunisia, or the ruins of temples and other constructs that dot the European, Middle Eastern, and North African landscapes.
Roman frontiers were vast, stretching thousands of kilometers and encompassing many lands and peoples over time. These frontiers are perhaps what many think of when it comes to the Roman Empire, and none more so than Hadrian’s Wall, the great stone frontier fortification built by Emperor Hadrian in northern Britannia in the 120s A.D. It stretched 73 miles from modern Carlisle to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and marked a decisive edge of the Roman Empire.
Hadrian’s Wall (English Heritage)
There was, however, another wall.
Approximately 100 miles to the north of Hadrian’s Wall, in modern Scotland, lie the somewhat less romantic, but highly significant, ruins of the Antonine Wall, another frontier of the Roman Empire, and an important cultural and heritage landscape today.
Antoninus Pius
In the early 140s A.D., the emperor Antoninus Pius (A.D. 138-161) ordered a new frontier to be built in Caledonia. It was a massive building project, and the work was undertaken by the men of three legions: the II Augustan from Isca (Caerleon), the VI Victrix from Eburacum (York), and the XX Valeria Victrix from Deva (Chester). Until the forts and fortlets were constructed, the troops would have lived in tents in temporary camps, and among their numbers would have been specialists such as surveyors, masons, carpenters and many more.
At the outset, overall responsibility for the building project was given to the governor of Britannia at the time, Quintus Lollius Urbicus.
The purpose was, perhaps, two-fold: to attempt to push Rome’s permanent frontier father north, but also to hold back the warlike tribe (perhaps a confederation of tribes) we know as the Caledonii.
Forts and Fortlets of the Antonine Wall (Wikimedia Commons)
The Antonine Wall may be smaller in scale to Hadrian’s Wall, but it is still an imposing construction. It was 39 miles long, stretching from the Firth of Clyde in the West (near Glasgow) to the Firth of Forth in the East (near Edinburgh). It cinched the belt of Scotland.
But this was not just a wall! It was a manned frontier of the Roman Empire.
The Antonine Wall consisted of about seventeen forts and approximately 9 smaller fortlets every 2 miles, including two coastal forts at either end. The garrison of this frontier was in the range of 6000 to 7000 troops. This included legionaries, but the garrison was mainly comprised of auxiliary troops once the wall was complete.
Antonine Wall fortifications sketch (A. Haviaras)
Despite its importance, why isn’t the Antonine Wall as well-known as Hadrian’s Wall?
Part of the reason for this is that its ruins are less prominent. Less has survived.
The Antonine Wall was not built of stone on the imposing scale of Hadrian’s Wall. It was a turf and timber wall built on a stone foundation. For this reason, today the remains mostly consist of a grassy embankment, 13 feet high, that was part of the ditch (fossa) located to the north the wall. The wall itself consisted of a turf embankment (agger) topped by a wooden battlement or barricade of sorts (vallum) behind the ditch. You can read more about the specifics of Roman defences HERE.
Unlike Hadrian’s Wall, which had ditches, or fossae, in front and behind, the Antonine Wall had but one fossa in front. It also had a military road running the length of the wall behind it so as to allow for quick, efficient movement of troops and supplies along the way, as well as the relaying of commands and news.
The Antonine Wall near Bar Hill Fort (Wikimedia Commons)
When completed, the Antonine Wall would have been an imposing defensive line in Caledonia. Interestingly, it was not the first such network.
There was a defensive line of forts from the Agricolan invasion of Caledonia in the first century A.D. that pre-dated both Hadrian’s Wall and the Antonine Wall. This frontier is known today as the Gask Ridge, and many of the forts along this first frontier were refortified during the Antonine period.
The Antonine Wall joined up with the Gask Ridge frontier roughly at the fort of Camelon, and together, the two frontiers further hemmed the Caledonii in on the highlands.
To read more about the Gask Ridge frontier, which is the setting for the novel Warriors of Epona, CLICK HERE.
Signage at Bar Hill fort site showing reconstruction of the fort. Bar Hill fort was the highest point along the Antonine Wall.
The novel The Dragon: Genesis begins during construction on the Antonine Wall, specifically at the site of Bar Hill fort which was the highest point of the wall. This fort had commanding views from its vantage point, and it was one of the larger forts along the wall, complete with principia, or headquarters building. It is interesting to note that the fort here was not flush with the wall like some others, but rather was set back, just south of the military road.
The location of this fort made it the ideal place to start the novel.
It is perhaps an attestation to the resistance put up by the tribes of Caledonia that the Antonine Wall was abandoned in A.D. 162, just twenty years after construction began.
It lay in this state of abandonment until about A.D. 208 and the Severan invasion of Caledonia. At that time the Antonine Wall and many of the Gask Ridge frontier forts were re-garrisoned. To read more about the Romans in Scotland, CLICK HERE.
After the two phases of the massive Severan invasion of Caledonia, the Antonine Wall became silent once more, the frontier moving back again to Hadrian’s stone construction.
The Bridgeness Slab – The easternmost distance slab of the Antonine Wall
Today, you can visit the remains of the Antonine Wall on any number of walks to visit the locations of several of the forts listed on the map above, including the fort at Bar Hill. It really is an amazing landscape with many fascinating sites along the way. It’s no wonder that in 2008 it was officially given World Heritage Site status by UNESCO as part of the ‘Frontiers of the Roman Empire’.
The Roman army. Those few words conjure images of blood and battle, marching legions spreading out across the ancient world. It was perhaps the most efficient military force in history, synonymous with skill, discipline, and invention.
Wherever we travel today in lands that were formerly part of the Roman Empire, we see the remains of that ancient civilization, and the remnants of Rome’s legions.
Few signs of ancient Rome’s built heritage compare with the military fortresses and forts that dot the landscape to this day. These ruins have been crucial in painting a picture of what life was like for the men of Rome’s legions, how they lived while on campaign.
There were, of course, many different types and sizes of camps and structures built by Rome’s armies across the Empire. There was the castrum (legionary fortress), the castellum (smaller camp or fort), the burgus (a small structure such as a tower, also known as a turris), signal stations and more.
In this blog, we’re going to take a brief look at that most important construction (other than roads!) of the Roman army: the legionary fortress.
Artist recreation of the Roman fortress at Chester
In the early days of the Roman Republic, the Roman army was a field army that went out, fought actions, and then returned. But as Rome conquered more of its neighbours around the Mediterranean basin, and north and northwest into Europe, it gathered more territories that would require garrisons if they were to be held.
There were two varieties of the Roman army camp, or castrum– the temporary summer marching camp, or castra aestiva, and the more permanent winter camp, or castra hiberna.
Temporary camps were constructed at the end of every day by the men of a legion on the march, and then torn down the next day before setting out again so that the fort could not be used by the enemy. Roman legionaries, who came to be known as ‘Marius’ mules’, carried everything they needed on their backs, and that included two wooden stakes for fortifications, and a dolabra, or pick axe, which they used to shift earth for those fortifications.
Can you imagine marching twenty to twenty-five miles in one day and then having to dig ditches and create fortifications at the end of it? The men of the legions did this as a matter of routine!
The temporary camps were a sort of organized tent city where every eight-man tent (leather or canvas) for a contubernium was pitched in the same place at the end of every day. Efficiency and order were the name of the game, and the Romans were masters of both.
Some of the Roman legionary’s kit included tools for the construction of a fort.
But the men of the legions, when at the outer reaches of Rome’s growing empire, needed warmer, more permanent quarters during the winter months outside of the campaigning season. Hence, the castra hiberna.
The requirement for permanent winter camps for every legion, in the provinces in which they were based, was issued by the emperor Augustus. The largest of these permanent camps could hold as many as two full legions! That’s over ten thousand men.
During the Julio-Claudian era, the walls of permanent camps were made of earth and wood, but from the Flavian era onward, walls were constructed of brick and stone, buttressed with earth. The structures within the permanent fortresses also evolved from their initial timber construction to more solid, long-lasting stone structures.
But how did the Romans decide where to put their camps, and how did they erect them? How were they defended? What did a legionary fortress or fort look like on the inside?
We’ll explore these questions next.
Reconstructed defences of a temporary Roman marching camp.
One simple formula for a camp is employed, which is adopted at all times in all places. (Polybius)
It would be a mistake to think that every legionary camp or base was exactly the same wherever you went in the Roman Empire. There was in fact a lot of variation due things like the terrain, the size of the force, and the preferences of the commander etc. But, there were certain features that were always the same, as is hinted at in the quote by Polybius above.
The first step would be to pick a suitable site for a fort that was both safe and strategic. A hill top was preferable, as was a site near to a waterway and water supply, as well as the road network if there was already one in place. Communication, hydration, and sanitation were essential!
Once a site was chosen, the ground was levelled by the troops (some stood on guard duty while most dug in). Generally, the first place to be marked out in a legionary fortress was the site of the principia, the headquarters building, at the intersection of the via Principalis and via Praetoria. This was marked with a white flag, and from here the rest of the fort’s grid was set up using a groma, a planning instrument with four plumb lines that helped to plan straight roads and to lay out the streets of the fort at perfect right angles.
Here is a short video (see minute 5:15) from historian Adam Hart Davis on how the groma was used for planning roads:
Using the groma, the intersections of the main streets of the fortress, the via Principalis and the via Praetoria, were laid out, thus allowing for the positioning of other buildings such as the tents or houses of the other officers, areas for cohorts, granaries etc.
Once the dimensions of the fort were set out, it was time to build what was perhaps the most important element of the fort: the walls.
When it came to linear defences, the Romans had everything covered. Actually, when it came to the defences of a fort, there were a few more elements besides the actual wall.
The fossa was a ditch in front of the rampart or wall of a Roman fort. There could be one or several fossae for a Roman fort, so this was variable. They could be up to twelve feet deep and three feet across, but these dimensions could also vary. Sometimes, sharpened stakes were also placed at the bottom, a little extra surprise for would-be attackers.
The defences of Ardoch Roman fort along the Gask Ridge frontier in Scotland
Behind the fossa or fossae of a fort were the vallum and agger, the raised embankments with sharpened stakes. So, after crossing the ditch of the fossa, an enemy would have to climb the embankment before tumbling down another ditch, after which he would be met with the wall of the fort.
The walls of camps varied in the materials used and the height they reached, but for the most part, the walls of permanent camps were eventually built in stone and could reach a height of ten to twelve feet, or up to four meters. During the Republican era, according to Polybius’ writings, forts tended to be square, but in the early Empire the preference was for irregular quadrilateral, and then a rectangular footprint. In the later Empire, any shape became possible, even circular!
Generally speaking, the walls of Roman forts were not very high, compared with their medieval equivalents, but the defences before those walls made it difficult for an enemy to breach the walls, especially under heavy fire from the legionaries on duty. There were not always towers on the walls of a Roman fort in the Republic and early Empire, but eventually, walls came to be toped by battlements called propugnaculae, and these were of different shapes and sizes.
Reconstructed, temporary defences at Alesia, site of Caesar’s defeat of the Gaulish forces led by Vercingetorix
Towers came into use too, with square ones being more common as they were quicker and easier to build, but later, after the reign of Marcus Aurelius, round and even pentagonal towers were built because of their superior strength. Sometimes, artillery was set atop the towers.
Because every Roman fort had four gates, these were also an important part of the fortress architecture, not least because they were a possible weak point. Early on, the gates were of a titulum or clavicula type, which means that an earthen wall was erected before the opening of the gate, directly in front (titulum) or on an angle (clavicula). However, from the time of Vespasian, gates were set into the walls themselves, sometimes with towers rising above them. These gates could allow up to ten men abreast to march through.
Recreation of the Roman gatehouse at Arbeia Roman fort, South Shields
The last of the linear defences was the intervallum. This was a broad open space between the inside of the wall and the first buildings of the fort. In addition to this being a sort of buffer zone against enemy fire, it could also be used to store supplies and graze animals. However, the intervallum was eventually done away with and the buildings of the legionary base were built right up to the side of the interior walls of the fort.
So, what did one find inside the walls of a Roman legionary base?
A city for a legion.
Full plan of the legionary fortress of Novaesium (Neuss), from The Imperial Roman Army by Yann Le Bohec
There were myriad buildings with as many purposes within the walls of a legionary fortress, and most of these would have been present, on a lesser scale, in smaller forts. At first, they would have been built in timber, and later, stone.
The most common structure was, of course, the barrack block. This was the long, rectangular building that housed the troops. For a legionary fortress, there would have been up to sixty-four barrack blocks. Each of these held a century of eighty men, and a contubernium of eight men would have shared one suite. Centurions had their own suite of rooms at the end of each block, possibly with their own lavatory. There might also have been a small mess room, and storage rooms.
A portion of the surviving barrack blocks of the fortress at Caerleon, Wales. This was the home of the II Augustan legion.
If you look at the previous blueprint of a fortress, you will see the barrack blocks in different sectors of the fortress.
The heart of the legionary base, however, was the principia, or headquarters building at the centre of the fortress.
The principia of a fortress was one of the larger buildings because it included the offices of the legate, camp prefect, and the six tribunes assigned to every legion. There was also the armoury, and the tabularium legionis and tabularium principis, the records offices of the legion and its commanders. These would have been located around a central courtyard where offerings could be made and assemblies addressed.
But there was more to the principia than that.
The treasury was also located in the principia, as well as that all-important room known as the sacellum, the place where the sacred standards and imagines of the legion were kept along with the most important emblem of Rome’s legions, the aquila, or eagle.
The ruins of Lambaesis legionary fortress in Numidia (modern Algeria). You can see the large principia building toward the top left. What is unique about Lambaesis is that instead of a basilica there was an open air courtyard in front of the principia.
The treasury and the sacellum were often located within a covered basilica which was a part of the principia. In here, units could parade and officers could address the troops. This was especially useful in places like Britannia where the weather was often inclement.
Besides the principia of a fortress, the other important structure was the praetorium. This was the commanding officer’s, or legatus’, private house. The praetorium of a legionary fortress, and even of small forts, replicated the villas or town homes of wealthy Romans, complete with private baths, triclinium, several cubicula, a garden or peristylium, and more. These were rich accommodations befitting the senatorial status of a legionary legate.
Other officers too, such as the six tribunes (1 senatorial, and 5 equestrian) had private homes that were located along the via Principalis of the fortress. Though not as luxurious as the praetorium of the legate, the tribunes’ houses were also private and well-appointed, often with a smaller garden or peristylium.
Artist impression of a principia building, or headquarters building
But let us remember that this was pretty much a city that had to cater to upwards of five-thousand troops and various other workers. There was much more to a legionary fortress than offices, barracks, and officer accommodation.
There would also have been a large valetudinarium, a military hospital, that would have had enough space to accommodate up to ten percent of the garrison, whatever the size of the fortress or fort.
One would have found various fabricae, the workshops that made and repaired weapons and other armaments, bricks and roof tiles for building the fort and other projects nearby on which legionaries would have been employed.
Roof tile from the fabricum of the IXt Hispana legion
Horrea, the granaries of a legionary base, were crucial to the legion’s survival, and these were carefully constructed to avoid damp by having them raised from the ground. The men needed to eat!
The men also needed to relax, and so that meant proper thermae, or baths, were needed within a fortress. Bathing to the Romans was, of course, not just about cleanliness, but also about socializing and relaxing. This was an important element of the fortress, for health and for morale. Along the theme of relaxing, there would also have been scholae, or clubhouses for various groups such as members of the centurionate, where men could gather with their peers to talk, drink, gamble and more.
And there were certainly stables in a fortress or fort too, whether for the officers’ horses, beasts of burden, or for any cavalry auxilia who were attached to the legion. It was important for the horses to be safely housed.
The structures noted above give you a sense of the massive scale of a legionary fortress, and the needs of a legion. There was, undoubtedly, some variation, depending on the size of the fort and its intended garrison, but most would have contained the structures noted above on some scale.
Aerial view of Housesteads Roman fort long Hadrian’s Wall
There are numerous remains of Roman fortresses and forts that you can visit today, whether they are remote, like the impressive remains of Ardoch, or one of the many dotting the line of Hadrian’s Wall, or whether their bones lie beneath our modern towns and cities, only to be glimpsed in select locations.
Vienna (Vindobona), Florence (Florentia), Chester (Deva), Caerleon (Isca Augusta), and York (Eburacum) are just a few examples of cities and towns that grew up around what were originally Roman legionary fortresses. Many of today’s most popular European cities were Roman army camps!
So, whether you are visiting the lands of the Sahara dessert in Algeria or Tunisia, or go as far north as the Gask Ridge in Scotland, you can be sure of that fact that, as you walk around taking photos and video, the Roman army was there before you.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this brief look at the Roman fortress. Please share this post with your fellow history-lovers and Romanophiles!
If you are interested in a virtual tour of a Roman fortress, check out the video below.
It’s been several months now since our last Roman Ghosts blog post and, seeing as we are in the dark days of winter, I thought it was a good time for a new one that you can read by the light of a warm fire.
If you missed the previous post about the ghostly accounts of Pliny the Younger, you can read it by CLICKING HERE.
Guess who!
I was doing some research on ghost sightings in the city of Rome when I came across this fascinating story about the only known haunting by a Roman emperor.
Who was this purple-robed spectre?
Why, it was none other than Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, otherwise known as Emperor Nero (A.D. 54-68).
There are numerous stories and much gossip about Emperor Nero, the last of the Julio-Claudian dynasty. It is said he believed he was an actor and artist, more than anything else. He allegedly fiddled his way through the burning of Rome, and subsequently blamed the Christian community for doing it. His torture of the Christians after that has become the stuff of horrible legend.
Another of the labels applied to this young megalomaniac was that of a ‘matricide’, for Nero was supposed to have made three attempts on the life of his overbearing mother, Agrippina the Younger. He tried drowning her, and crushing her in a planned ‘accident’, and when neither of those worked, he had his men slay her.
Emperor Nero and Agrippina the Younger. Is she fixing his corona for him? Oh, Mother!
However, when the deed was done, Nero was haunted by the ghost of his mother for the rest of his days, so much so that he supposedly engaged the services of magicians and necromancers to help rid him of the Furies he believed to be harassing him, and to conjure the ghost of his mother so that he could ask her to leave him alone.
I guess it never was easy for a young Roman man to be completely rid of his mother!
Needless to say, Emperor Nero was a tortured soul.
But we are not here to determine whether the rumours about Nero were true or not. We are here to talk about the story of what happened after his death.
It seems that after he departed the mortal world, the shade of Nero lingered in Rome, and his is the only known imperial ghost on record.
Antiquarian print of Nero’s tomb after it was dug up.
You see, after his suicide, Nero was buried in the tomb of the Domitii Ahenobarbi, the family tomb at the foot of the Pincian hill. This was located near a grove of poplar trees in what is now the Borghese Gardens near Piazza del Popolo.
Legend has it that in the place where the tomb of Nero was located, adjacent to the Porta Flaminia, a sort of nut tree sprouted, and this tree was filled with black crows.
It was said that about the tree, or in it, Emperor Nero’s ghost continued his lavish feasts, except now he dined alongside demons and witches!
Over the centuries, Romans living in the area of the Pincian hill, near the Porta Flaminia, reported feelings of terror, possessions, beatings and injuries, inexplicable strangulations and killings. Hundreds of years later, in 1099, Nero’s ghost and his wicked dinner companions were still bothering the living.
Frightened Romans complained to Pope Pasquale II about the spectre and the terrible goings on around the tree at the foot of the Pincian hill. The pope stepped up and performed an exorcism in the area which ended with him striking the tree itself. When the pope did this, a series of loud screams apparently rent the air.
Pasquale II ordered the tree torn down then, and when it was removed, they found Nero’s tomb buried beneath it, among the tangled roots. The pope ordered the tomb and its contents to be thrown into the Tiber, and ordered a church built on the site, the altar of which was placed overtop of the spot where the tree had been.
Chiesa de Santa Maria di Popolo, built on the site of Nero’s tomb.
In 1475, Pope Sixtus IV enlarged the church that Pasquale built, and it was re-consecrated as the Chiesa de Santa Maria di Popolo.
Apparently, the hauntings of Nero did stop after the original chapel was built in 1099, however, it is said that some people still report supernatural activity there.
Who knows for certain…
What we can be pretty sure of, if one believes in such things, is that in a city as ancient and populated as Rome, there were plenty of ghosts to go around. But there was only one imperial ghost…the ghost of Nero!
Happy Saturnalia, everyone! Or, as the Romans said, Io Saturnalia!
December 17th was the official start of Saturnalia in the Roman Empire, and for seven days the Roman world, and especially Rome itself, experienced what can only be described as a carnival atmosphere.
Just as Christmas is a time of year that many people look forward to, so too was Saturnalia for Romans, free and slave.
Today we’re going to take a brief look at some of the customs that surrounded this ‘the best of days,” as the poet Catullus called it.
The God Saturn
Saturnalia was basically a winter solstice festival in honour of the god Saturn, the chthonic (of the earth) Roman god of seed sowing, who was often equated with the Greek god Cronus. As an agricultural deity, his symbol was a scythe.
The primary temple for this Roman deity was at the foot of the Capitoline Hill, across from the Rostra, the Temple of Concord, and the arch of Septimius Severus.
The festival of Saturnalia was originally a single day, but eventually ran from December 17th to December 23rd, ending on the Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, or the birthday of the Unconquerable Sun. The three days from December 17th to the 19th were considered to be legal holidays on which no work was done. Schools, gymnasia and courts were closed, and no war was waged.
The Temple of Saturn (centre)in the Forum Romanum, Rome
Saturnalia was a sacred time of year in the Roman calendar, but oddly enough, there is no single, full description of the festival. What we know comes from various references in ancient sources, mainly Macrobius whose work on Roman religious lore is set during the festival.
So, what do we know about the festival of Saturnalia, and what traditions did people keep at that time of year?
A bit of public gambling during Saturnalia!
In ancient Rome, we know that the festivities began on December 17th with a sacrifice at the Temple of Saturn in the Forum, in which the priest performed the ceremony in the Greek fashion, ritus Graecus, with his head uncovered. In the temple, the feet of Saturn’s statue were normally bound up with wool, but for Saturnalia, the wool was removed, and some believe this symbolized the liberation that many felt during the festival.
After the sacrifice, which may have been a suckling pig, there followed a grand public banquet, or convivium publicum, which was paid for by the state. A statue of Saturn was placed upon a couch for this event so that the god could preside over the festivities.
Candles, or cerei were a big part of Saturnalia
As a festival of light, or the solstice, wax candles, or cerei, were lit everywhere and given as gifts. The light may also have been considered a symbol of the quest for knowledge and truth, something to go along with this season of hope for many in the dark days of winter.
Another symbol of the season was holly, which was considered sacred to Saturn. Sprigs of this were also given as token gifts. Many other gifts were given at this time of year, mainly on December 19th, which was the day of the sigillaria, the day of gift-giving.
Holly was sacred to Saturn
In addition to wax candles, gifts could include pottery, writing tablets, dice, knucklebones, combs, toothpicks, hats, knives, lamps, balls, perfumes, and toys for children. If you were among the rich, exotic animals or slaves might even be given!
Figurines were also a gift that was given, and these have something of an interesting history. One thought is that this particular gift stemmed from the giving of toys to children. However, another, darker possibility for the giving of figurines is that they were intended as substitutes for the human blood offerings that may have originally been offered to the earth god Saturn, in the early days of Rome, perhaps in the form of gladiatorial combat to the death.
Some sigillaria were similar to the gifts we get in Christmas crackers today, but they could be much more elaborate too.
In addition to the public celebrations of Saturnalia, the festivities continued at home.
On December 18th and 19th, domestic rituals of the family were observed, such as bathing, and the common sacrifice of a suckling pig to Saturn.
Gifts were given among the family on the day of the sigillaria, but also in the days to come.
One interesting tradition was that the usual clothes worn by Romans, such as the toga or plain tunica, were discarded during Saturnalia in favour of colourful clothes known as synthesis, which were a mish-mash of patterns and colours. They were the Roman party clothes of Saturnalia! Along with the synthesis, Roman men also wore a felt or leather conical cap known as a pileus.
The pileus was a conical felt or leather cap worn by men during Saturnalia
Saturnalia was a time of role reversal, a time when the opposite of normal was acceptable.
For instance, during Saturnalia gambling was permitted in public, with the stakes being either coins or, oddly enough, nuts!
Overeating and drunkenness were common, as was guising, which was the wearing of masks or costumes to take on another persona.
Thou knowest not what evening may bring.
(Macrobius. Saturnalia)
However, perhaps the most commonly known tradition of Saturnalia was the role reversal of masters and slaves. Traditionally, masters would serve their slaves a meal of the sort that they would usually enjoy, sigillaria would be given, and the slaves were even at liberty to insult their masters without fear of retribution.
Citizens or slaves might even be elected the ‘King of Saturnalia’ at the banquet at which time they could give absurd orders that had to be obeyed.
Guising and the wearing of masks occurred during Saturnalia
If this seems like a hectic summary with myriad different traditions and goings on, you’d be right. Just as with Christmas today, everyone likely had their own unique take on the traditions of the season. Roman religion was highly customizable!
You’d also be correct in assuming that some of the traditions of Saturnalia feel very familiar. At Christmastime, people eat and drink more than is usual (if they are so fortunate), there are a couple of days off work, gifts are given, holly (and perhaps ivy) is hung, candles are lit, and more.
Around the winter solstice, it seems that many cultures and religions find cause to celebrate.
So, from December 17th this year and in the run-up to Christmas, spare a thought for the Romans who certainly knew how to throw a good party this time of year.
Much of the research for this post was done for the writing of this new book, so if you would like to see many of these ancient traditions come to life, you’ll want to check it out by CLICKING HERE.
Lastly, and for a bit of fun at this festive time of year, check out this hilarious video and song by the Ashmolean Latin Inscriptions Project and members of Oxford’s Faculty of Classics:
In part one of this two-part series on food and dining in ancient Rome, we looked at the various foods that would have appeared on the tables of average Romans and how this varied depending on economic status or geographical region. If you missed that post CLICK HERE to read it.
This week, in part two, we’re going to take a brief look at the eating habits and formalities of dining in ancient Rome.
When it comes to eating, we seem to have inherited some of our modern-day habits from the Romans.
They normally ate one large, main meal a day, along with two smaller ones. However, the ientaculum, that is, breakfast, to the Romans, was not the most important meal of the day as we are sometimes told. In fact, Romans might have skipped this altogether before heading down to the Forum or visiting with clients or benefactors.
Breakfast in ancient Rome was light, and most likely involved puls, a sort of porridge, or some bread, perhaps dipped in honey or olive oil. They didn’t attack the day with a lumberjack breakfast in their stomachs!
In the early days, the midday meal or lunch, known as the cena, was the main, large meal of the day. This would perhaps have coincided with the sexta, the sixth hour of daylight or siesta time of day. For more about the Roman siesta, CLICK HERE.
Lastly, the Romans would have enjoyed a lighter evening meal called the vesperna, perhaps involving bread and cheese, or some fruit.
Sensible eating for those early Romans!
Over time, however, the midday lunch became a lighter meal known as the prandium, and the cena, the main meal, was moved to the evening.
For the poor, most meals would have consisted of puls or bread, sometimes with some sort of meat, or vegetables if they were available. There was certainly less variety among the different meals of the day if one was not wealthy or at least well-off.
For the rich and well-to-do, things were different. As the cena was the large meal of the day it would have included three courses of food.
The first course was the gustatio or promulsis, and this would have involved appetizers of olives, eggs, raw vegetables, and simple fish or shell fish.
The second, or main course, the prima mensa, often included cooked vegetables and meats, the types and amounts varying greatly, depending on the occasion and wealth of the family or individual.
And lastly came the sweet course, the secunda mensa. This is when fruit and sweet pastries would have been served.
Fresco of eggs, wine, and songbirds. The makings of a cena, perhaps?
But what about the etiquette of dining? What was the etiquette? How did they sit? Did the Romans just move from course to course, gobbling up all that was placed before them?
Not exactly. In fact, there was a rigid system of seating, or placement. Contrary to modern views, most Romans ate while sitting, but when it came to the wealthy, they tended to recline on couches, especially at dinner parties.
At a banquet, or convivium, there would also have been entertainment between courses, perhaps by clowns, dancers, or readings by poets.
Food was eaten with fingers, and cut with knives. Spoons were also used, but forks were not.
Hypothetical triclinium visualisation (created by Martin Blazeby)
Today, when one attends a dinner, there are sometimes places assigned to guests. There might even be name cards, and some hosts might distance themselves from their least favourite guests at the table.
Well, this was also true in ancient Rome!
I want you to imagine you’re invited to an evening cenaat a senator’s home. You’re greeted in the atrium and led through the house to the dining room, the triclinium, just off of the peristyle garden. It’s dark out, and the scent of lemon blossoms and jasmine are on the night air. After a cup of watered wine, you’re shown into the triclinium by one of the well-dressed slaves who shows you to the couch known as the lectus medius, the middle couch of three, the couch of honour.
At this point, you’re very happy, for your host, seated with his wife on the lectus imus, the low couch, has honoured you above all other guests. The other guests behind you grin and bear it as they are shown to the high couch. From where you are, you have a wondrous view of the night garden and all of the other guests, and conversation comes easily, for you do not have to twist and turn.
Sound like a good evening? It could be. But the Romans took seating of this sort very seriously.
Horace (65 B.C. – 8 B.C.), in Satire VIII presents us with a scene depicting the seating arrangements and the trials of being a host in ancient Rome:
‘I was there at the head, and next to me Viscus
From Thurii, and below him Varius if I
Remember correctly: then Servilius Balatro
And Vibidius, Maecenas’ shadows, whom he brought
With him. Above our host was Nomentanus, below
Porcius, that jester, gulping whole cakes at a time:
Nomentanus was by to point out with his finger
Anything that escaped our attention: since the rest
Of the crew, that’s us I mean, were eating oysters,
Fish and fowl, hiding far different flavours than usual:
Soon obvious for instance when he offered me
Fillets of plaice and turbot cooked in ways new to me.
Then he taught me that sweet apples were red when picked
By the light of a waning moon. What difference that makes
You’d be better asking him. Then Vibidius said
To Balatro: “We’ll die unavenged if we don’t drink him
Bankrupt”, and called for larger glasses. Then the host’s face
Went white, fearing nothing so much as hard drinkers,
Who abuse each other too freely, while fiery wines
Dull the palate’s sensitivity. Vibidius
And Balatro were tipping whole jugs full of wine
Into goblets from Allifae, the rest followed suit,
Only the guests on the lowest couch sparing the drink.’
Horace (by Giacomo Di Chirico) Is he writing about the banquet he attended the night before?
Seems like Horace had a lot of fun with this, and his satires are certainly good for a laugh! I do feel for that host.
But what was all this ‘status seating’ about?
In a relatively well-off Roman household, three couches in a triclinium were standard. These were arranged around a low table, or mensa, and these couches had specific names and purposes.
The lectus medius, the middle couch, was the couch of honour, and was where important guests were placed. Because of its position, guests seated here were able to talk easily with other guests and had the best view, whether onto a peristyle garden or some sort of rural landscape.
The lectus imus, the low couch, was reserved for the hosts. It allowed them to speak with the high status guests on the lectus medius, and also the guests sitting directly across on the lectus summus.
Last and least, the lectus summus, or the high couch. This was not like the high table at a wedding today. No. The lectus summus in ancient Rome was the opposite. It was reserved for the lower status guests, maybe even for children if they were permitted to attend. This couch possessed less of a view, though still allowed its occupants the chance to participate in the conversation, though they might have had to turn awkwardly to do so. If you were shown to the lectus summus, then it seems you knew your place at the gathering.
If it was a rather large banquet, we can assume that the farther from the hosts and guest of honour you were on lectus summus side of the triclinium, the less important you were considered, or at least less influential.
Plan of typical Roman couch placement in a triclinium (from Reclining and Dining (and Drinking) in Ancient Rome by Shelby Brown; The Iris – Behind the Scenes at the Getty)
I hope you’ve enjoyed this two-part blog series on food and dining in ancient Rome.
In researching this for the books Saturnalia: A Tale of Wickedness and Redemption in Ancient Rome, and the forthcoming title Isle of the Blessed, I found that some of the modern perceptions we have about Roman banquets are indeed true, while others are clearly not. If one was eating in a tenement in the Suburra, you were not reclining on a couch eating grapes and drinking wine. It was a table and chair for you.
The food consumed, as well as the eating and dining habits of the poor and the rich were often separated by a wide gulf. Nevertheless, the wonderful colour and variety of the world of ancient Rome never ceases to delight me!
More Ancient Everyday posts will be along in the future, but in the meantime, may your winter dining be pleasant.
