March 6, 2020 by AdamAH

Numina Romana – Spirits in Roman Religion

In all of the many years I’ve been researching and writing about the world of ancient Rome, the topic of Roman religion has been a constant source of fascination for me as an author and historian. Many of my readers have echoed this sentiment too, pointed out that they love the inclusion of that aspect of Roman life.

You can read more about writing Roman religion HERE.

But what is it that fascinates us about Roman religious beliefs and practices?

For me, it is the openness and flexibility of Roman religion. Mortals had a closer, perhaps more symbiont, relationship with their gods. The religion was highly customizable.

But, like any other religion, there was a sort of evolution over time. Most religions today believe in a spirit realm, that spirits are present, and often they are menacing.

It was a little different in Roman religion. We are all familiar with the gods of the Roman pantheon – Jupiter, Juno, Minerva etc. – but what you may not know is that sprits of various kinds played a central role in Roman religious beliefs and practices.

In this short post, we’re going to be taking a look at the various kinds of spirits that Romans believed in.

In the world of ancient Rome, spirits were known as numina (sing. numen). These were divine spirits or powers that were present everywhere in life, people, and places. They were not anthropomorphic at first.

Originally, Romans may have believed that a numen was a place itself, such as a wood, river, spring, or cave etc., and that that place was supernatural or divine.

Gradually, however, with the influence of Greek religion, Romans came to believe that these places were inhabited or protected by these numina or spirits. Eventually, these numina were given names and traits. In many instances they began to take form.

Illustration of a statue of Sancus found in the Sabine’s shrine on the Quirinal (Wikimedia Commons)

Numina were present in material things such as crops, but also in actions such as travel.

These spirits could also inhabit more abstract ideas such as Discipline (the Goddess Disciplina), Virtue (the Goddess Pietas), or Trust and Honesty (the God Sancus). Even the living emperor, his role as such, had a numen that was worshipped by the people.

Truth be told, there are myriad numina in Roman religion, and most of them were nameless. Most Romans honoured the numen or numina that were related to their home or occupation.

But what were the various types of spirits or numina whom Romans believed in?

Let us go through the most prominent ones…

Bronze genius depicted as paterfamilias (1st century AD) Wikimedia Commons

In addition to the main gods, goddesses and heroes who were worshipped in ancient Rome, there were many types of numina:

The Genii (sing. Genius) literally mean the ‘begetter’. Early on, this was a man’s guardian spirit who helped him to beget children. This spirit was honoured on the birthday of the paterfamilias, the man in whom it lived.

The genius was symbolized by the snake which was a protective symbol of household protectors.

Over time, people and places came to have genii. For example, the spirit of a place was the genius loci, and if one was in a place where one did not know whom to worship or make offerings to, one would pray to the genius loci of that particular place.

Lararium in the House of the Vettii, Pompeii. It depicts the ancestral genius (upper centre) flanked by the Lares, with a serpent below. (Wikimedia Commons)

The next group of spirits we’re going to look at are the Lares (sing. Lar).

These were very important numina in the world of ancient Rome. The Lares were ancient and mysterious spirits whose original character is unknown. It is thought that early on, they were guardians of farmland.

The Lares evolved into protective household gods. Every household, however grand or simple, had them. They were worshipped at what was called a lararium, a shrine dedicated to them, and prayers to the Lares were led by the paterfamilias.

These numina were worshipped on the Kalends (first day), the Nones (ninth day), and the Ides (fifteenth day) of every month.

There were also Lares of other less personal places such as neighbourhoods (Lares Compitales), and cities (Lares Publici or Lares Praestites). In Rome, the Lares Praestites had a temple at the beginning of the Via Sacra.

The Lares Compitales were worshipped on the festival of Compitalia, a Roman agricultural festival, perhaps alluding to their rural roots. The Lares in general had their festival at Rome on December 22.

Offerings of food to the Penates were burned on the domus hearth fire

Another group of spirits who went hand in hand with the Lares were known as Di Penates. These were also protective spirits of the household, but more specifically the pantry.

At every meal, a portion of the food was set aside for the Penates, and this was offered to them on the hearth fire. Salt and fruit was always left on the table for them.

The festival of the Penates was held on October 14.

Di Penates were also not limited to a household, the same as the Lares. The Penates Publici were attached to the Roman state and were worshipped alongside Vesta, Goddess of the Hearth, in her temple.

Honouring dead family members

Now we move into the realm of the remembrance and honouring of the spirits of the dead.

The Manes, the Roman spirits of the divine dead, were a group that Romans took very seriously.

The dead were to be respected, remembered and honoured in ancient Rome, and there were several festivals at which this was done: Feralia, Parentalia, and Lemuria.

The belief was that every dead person, no matter the age or gender, had its own spirit, and that spirit was known as a manes (yes, plural and singular forms are the same here).

The Manes were mainly honoured as the Manes Familiae, or more commonly as Di Parentes, the ‘Dead of the Family’.

“To the spirits of the dead: For Cornelia Frontina, who lived 16 years and 7 months, her father, Marcus Ulpius Callistus, freedman of the emperor, overseer in the armory of the Ludus Magnus, and Flavia Nice, his most virtuous wife, set up this [monument] for themselves, their freedmen and freedwomen, and their descendants.”

Graves were also important, and to be respected, as is evidenced by the many memorials and monuments that line the roads leading into Rome, or that dot the grounds of many ancient necropoli. Graves were considered dis manibus sacrum, ‘sacred to the divine dead’, and this was inscribed on monuments. Later, individuals were named in grave dedications that sometimes told their stories.

Ancestor worship was a part of honouring the Manes, and they were remembered in households by the imagines which were wax masks or busts of the deceased. It is believed this was the case because the Romans believed that the life source was in the head, and not the heart.

Imagines later became works of art to decorate homes, but the old religious significance never really disappeared.

Romulus and Remus upon an altar dedicated to Mars and Venus (from Ostia)

The spirits of the dead were not always entities whose remembrance gave comfort to the living. There was another group of spirits who were to be dreaded and propitiated: Lemures.

Lemures were spirits of the dead of a household, or place, who haunted the domus or location, those who had been violently murdered or met an untimely end. These numina were hostile, and often the Lemures of children were feared the most.

They were of a very different character to the Manes Familiae.

The poet Ovid, in his Fasti, relates a story on the origins of Lemures and the festival of Lemuria:

Why the day was called Lemuria, and what is the origin of the name, escapes me; it is for some god to discover it. Son of the Pleiad, thou reverend master of the puissant wand, inform me: oft hast thou seen the palace of the Stygian Jove. At my prayer the Bearer of the Herald’s Staff (Caducifer) was come. Learn the cause of the name; the god himself made it known. When Romulus had buried his brother’s ghost in the grave, and the obsequies had been paid to the too nimble Remus, unhappy Faustulus and Acca, with streaming hair, sprinkled the burnt bones with their tears. Then at twilight’s fall they sadly took the homeward way, and flung themselves on their hard couch, just as it was. The gory ghost of Remus seemed to stand at the bedside and to speak these words in a faint murmur: “Look on me, who shared the half, the full half of your tender care, behold what I am come to, and what I was of late! A little while ago I might have been the foremost of my people, if but the birds had assigned the throne to me. Now I am an empty wraith, escaped from the flames of the pyre; that is all that remains of the once great Remus. Alas, where is my father Mars? If only you spoke the truth, and it was he who sent the wild beast’s dugs to suckle the abandoned babes. A citizen’s rash hand undid him whom the she-wolf saved; O how far more merciful was she! Ferocious Celer, mayest thou yield up thy cruel soul through wounds, and pass like me all bloody underneath the earth! My brother willed not this: his love’s a match for mine: he let fall upon my death – ‘twas all he could – his tears. Pray him by your tears, by your fosterage, that he would celebrate a day by signal honour done to me.” As the ghost gave this charge, they yearned to embrace him and stretched forth their arms; the slippery shade escaped the clasping hands. When the vision fled and carried slumber with it, the pair reported to the king his brother’s words. Romulus complied, and gave the name Remuria to the day on which due worship is paid to buried ancestors. In the course of ages the rough letter, which stood at the beginning of the name, was changed into the smooth; and soon the souls of the silent multitude were also called Lemures: that is the meaning of the word, that is the force of the expression. But the ancients shut the temples on these days, as even now you see them closed at the season sacred to the dead. The times are unsuitable for the marriage both of a widow and a maid: she who marries then, will not live long. For the same reason, if you give weight to proverbs, the people say bad women wed in May. But these three festivals fall about the same time, though not on three consecutive days.

(Ovid, Fasti, Book V; trans. James G. Frazer)

It is quite a moving beginning the tradition. As relayed by Ovid, the festival of Lemuria did not fall on three consecutive days, but was celebrated on May 9th, 11th, and 13th.

Les Parques (The Parcae, ca. 1885) by Alfred Agache

There were other numina or spirits that took on a more divine nature in Roman religion.

The Fata (Fates) or the Parcae, were the powers of Destiny, and they were known by the names Nona, Decima and Morta.

Originally, the Parcae, believed to have been influenced by a triad of Celtic goddesses, may have been birth goddesses, but this role evolved into something more all-encompassing.

One could not escape the Parcae, or rather, Fate.

Similarly, one could also not escape the Furies.

The Remorse of Orestes, where he is surrounded by the Erinyes, by William-Adolphe Bouguereau, 1862

Influenced by Greek beliefs, the Furiae were goddesses of terror to the Romans, similar to the Greek Erinyes.

The Furiae were female spirits who carried out the vengeance of the Gods on mortals. If you’ve read Saturnalia, these anima will be familiar to you.

These numina carried out their duties on Earth as well as in the Underworld. They were everywhere and could not be escaped from. Traditionally, there were three Furiae: Tisiphone, Megara, and Alecto. Roman tradition also sometimes included two more: Adrasta and of course, Nemesis.

Whoever you were, and whatever you had done, the Furiae were to be respected and feared.

Hylas and the Nymphs by Waterhouse (1896)

Lastly, we come to perhaps one of the most well-known groups of numina in Greek and Roman religion: the Nymphs.

The Nymphs were female nature spirits of objects or places such as trees, springs, rivers, mountains etc.

They were everywhere and were usually young and beautiful, and loved music and dancing.

The Nymphs were not immortal as some might think, but they lived much longer than humans.

The cult of the Nymphs was popular in Roman religion, perhaps not only because they were young and beautiful and not menacing, but perhaps also because they were everywhere.

And like other Roman divinities and numina, they were more relatable to humans than the gods of later, ‘revealed’ religions.

Nymphaeum, or shrine dedicated to the Nymphs (Jerash, Jordan)

Those are the primary numina of Roman religion. I hope that you have learned something new in this short post.

While it is true that the belief in spirits spans most world religions, the Roman beliefs, to me, are utterly fascinating for they are a mixture of the divine and departed, of nurture and menace, of fear and inspiration.

Just as Romans lived with and honoured their Gods on a daily basis, so too did the spirits of their world roam alongside them.

Thank you for reading.

If you would like to learn all about Sacrifices in Roman religion, CLICK HERE to carry on reading.

February 9, 2019 by AdamAH

Roman Ghosts – Roots of Death and the Imperial Spectre

Salvete, History-lovers!

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!

September 8, 2018 by AdamAH

Roman Ghosts – Pliny and the Spectral Haircut

Hello History-Lovers!

It’s been a while since the last post in the Roman Ghosts blog series. Something I was working on recently (a secret to be unleashed this autumn!) made me think of hauntings, and so, here we are.

I’ve also waited because, of all the tips we’ve received about Roman ghost sightings, there were none that took place outside of the UK. The Roman Empire was, of course, vast, and so I found it difficult to believe that there were no accounts outside of Britannia.

So, I did some digging and found one story which I will share with you today.

Statue of Pliny the Younger on the Duomo of Como – Giovanni Rodari, 1480 (Wikimedia Commons)

I am extremely desirous therefore to know whether you believe in the existence of ghosts, and that they have a real form, and are sorts of divinities, or only the visionary impressions of a terrified imagination. (Pliny the Younger, LXXXIII. To Sura)

As it happens, this particular story is not of modern sightings of a ghost, but rather is an ancient ghost story relayed by none other than Pliny the Younger in a letter to Senator Lucius Licinius Sura, from Hispania.

It seems that Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus, known to us as Pliny the Younger (c. A.D. 61 – 113), had ghosts on his mind.

Mosaic of Gorgon head, symbol of horror and dread, from Sousse Tunisia

Being an educated and inquisitive person like his uncle, Pliny the Elder, he wrote to his friend Sura to see what he thought about ghosts.

Now, we don’t really know why Pliny the Younger had ghosts on his mind, apart from the tales he relays as examples in his letter to Sura.

There are three tales, or examples, of ghost sightings that Pliny relays in his letter. The first is of an apparition that warned the senator, Curtius Rufus, of his rise to power, and also of his death in Africa.

The second story Pliny writes to Sura about is of the Greek philosopher, Athenodorus, who wanted to rent an apartment in Athens but wondered why it was so inexpensive. Apparently, the ghost of an old man kept harassing the occupants of the flat, and so, like an ancient world Ghostbuster, Athenodorus spent the night there to see what happened. The ghost appeared while Athenodorus was working, and insisted that the philosopher follow it to a spot nearby. The next day, Athenodorus asked that a hole be dug there and, sure enough, a putrefied body lay chained within. The remains were reburied with the proper rituals, and the ghost was not seen again.

Print of Athenodorus confronting the ghost in the story told by Pliny to Sura

These first two stories in Pliny’s letter are fascinating, but it is the third story that interests me, because it comes perhaps to the crux of the matter for Pliny – an experience beneath his own roof! Here it is in his words:

I have a freedman named Marcus, who is by no means illiterate. One night, as he and his younger brother were lying together, he fancied he saw somebody upon his bed, who took out a pair of scissors, and cut off the hair from the top part of his own head, and in the morning, it appeared his hair was actually cut, and the clippings lay scattered about the floor. A short time after this, an event of a similar nature contributed to give credit to the former story. A young lad of my family was sleeping in his apartment with the rest of his companions, when two persons clad in white came in, as he says, through the windows, cut off his hair as he lay, and then returned the same way they entered. The next morning it was found that this boy had been served just as the other, and there was the hair again, spread about the room. (Pliny the Younger, LXXXIII. To Sura)

I don’t know about you, but if I woke up to a Roman ghost cutting my hair, I would not be quiet about it!

Obviously, Pliny did not witness the ghost himself, but he does say that “This story I believe upon the credit of others [the previous tale]; what I am going to mention [the current tale], I give you upon my own.”

Roman burial with shackled skeleton

What would drive Pliny the Younger – an educated and well-respected man and member of Roman society – to believe this tale and even to seek the advice of Senator Sura?

Of course we don’t know what topics of discussion passed previously between Pliny and Sura, what they might have discussed over dinner in times gone by.

We should bear in mind that Pliny, who was eighteen at the time, bore witness to the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, and the deaths of thousands, including his own uncle.

The ruins of Pompeii with Mount Vesuvius in the background

You could hear the shrieks of women, the wailing of infants, and the shouting of men; some were calling their parents, others their children or their wives, trying to recognize them by their voices. People bewailed their own fate or that of their relatives, and there were some who prayed for death in their terror of dying. Many besought the aid of the gods, but still more imagined there were no gods left, and that the universe was plunged into eternal darkness for evermore. (Pliny the Younger, Letter to Tacitus)

Years later, were the ghosts of Pompeii on his mind? Was Pliny haunted by that event, and did he worry about the dead? Perhaps his questions to Sura masked his own fears of the dead? Maybe he felt a great guilt at surviving the cataclysm of Pompeii?

Your guess is as good as mine.

One thing does seem certain from Pliny’s letter to Sura: the respectable Roman was beset by ghosts, or thoughts of them. Why, we can’t be sure, but it is a great Roman Ghost story!

If you would like to read the full text of Pliny the Younger’s letter to Sura, you can do so by CLICKING HERE.

Thank you for reading.

May 26, 2018 by AdamAH

Roman Ghosts – Sentries of the Saxon Shore

Salvete, Readers!

Today we have our second post in the Roman Ghosts series, and this one is guaranteed to give you shivers.

If you missed the first post about Shades in Eburacum, you can check it out by CLICKING HERE.

Many of you have written to us about Roman ghost sightings in the UK, and we are keen to research them and share with everyone. Rest assured, they’re all on the list! Today’s post comes by way of a tip from Eagles and Dragons reader, Michael Dennis.

Aerial view of Reculver

This particular look at Roman ghosts takes us to Reculver on the Kentish coast in England, in particular a site on the promontory at the mouth of the Watsum Channel, facing the Isle of Thanet.

Before we get into the spectral sightings associated with this remote location, we should, of course, look briefly at the history of the place.

Reculver was the site of Roman Regulbium which comes from the Celtic name meaning ‘at the promontory’.

It was on this site during the Claudian invasion of Britain in A.D. 43 that a Roman fortlet was first built. Tense times in the land, of course. Eventually, the fort was connected by road to the settlement of Durovernum, modern Canterbury.

Remains of the Roman walls of Regulbium

Eventually, in the late second century, a larger Roman castrum was built on the site, and this included a basilica as part of the principia (headquarters building), barracks, a bathhouse, and even a nearby oven which was located outside the walls. The walls themselves were almost fifteen feet high and ten feet thick. Sadly, much of the fort has been lost to the sea and erosion.

What does remain are two of the Roman towers which were incorporated into the early medieval Saxon church of St. Mary’s. More on these towers later…

The Notitia Dignitatum, the great Roman administrative document of the early fifth century, indicates that the Cohors I Baetasiorum was stationed at Regulbium. These troops of the Baetasii tribe inhabiting the lands between the Rhine and the Meuse, in Germania Inferior, were a good distance from their homes.

Regulbium was apparently abandoned after A.D. 360, but from what we have been reading, it may well be that some of the troops never went home.

Map of the fort showing how much has been lost to erosion and the sea.

Try and imagine a soldier, or a cohort of soldiers, based in a specific location for an extended period of time. Routine and disciplina, as the Romans called it, were central to a soldier’s life. Sometimes they lived and died in a specific place, had families, lost loved ones, took life and shed blood.

Well, in Regulbium to this day, it seems that some of the Roman soldiers are determined to keep to their schedules and their posts.

There have been many reports of Roman soldiers seen on patrol at Reculver fort (Regulbium) or keeping ghostly sentry duty there, so much so that visitors, even in summer, claim that there is something very ‘wrong’ about the place.

Apparently, the site of the Roman fort is so haunted that it has become a destination for amateur ghost hunters!

Artist impression of Regulbium

But it isn’t just the ghosts of groups of Roman soldiers on patrol that people have reported seeing. There have also been chilling reports of a lone Roman soldier standing stolidly at his sentry post somewhere between the two remaining towers that stand there to this day.

What might the shade of that Roman be looking out for? A returning patrol? Raiding Saxon ships coming into the isle between the fort and Thanet?

Who knows? One thing is for sure, there are more than just the shades of Roman soldiers lurking around the fort.

There have also been numerous reports of phantom babies crying on the wind when people have visited the fort!

One might think that this is just the gusting wind playing tricks on visitors to the fort. Then again, perhaps not.

The remaining towers of Regulbium, incorporated into the church of St. Mary’s

When excavations were carried out at the fort, the burials of ten infants were found within the fort itself, and six of these were associated with specifically Roman buildings.

There are some theories that the infants were part of a ritual sacrifice there, but it is not known if they were dead already (stillborn), or if they were killed as part of the ritual.

Seeing as Romans more or less frowned on human sacrifice (apart from in the arena), the slaying of babies does seem to be a bit of a stretch, but one never knows. Perhaps the Baetasii tribe from the Rhine region did that sort of thing, perhaps not.

Either way, the remains of infants have been found, and whatever the circumstances of their deaths, it seems likely that the wailing of their little shades at the fort would be enough to turn the legs of the toughest legionary to mush.

Have you been to the ruins of Regulbium? Would you go after reading this?

I’m not sure I would.

The towers of Reculver from the current beach.

We hope you’ve enjoyed this second post in the Roman Ghosts series. For more information on the haunted site you can check out the book Haunted Kent, by Janet Cameron.

For information about the archaeology and ruins of Roman Regulbium, you can check out the Historic England page by CLICKING HERE.

Remember, if you know of any Roman ghost stories in any part of the former Roman Empire that you would like to share, just send us an email through the Contact Uspage of the website and we’ll look into it.

Thank you for reading!

March 3, 2018 by AdamAH

Roman Ghosts: Shades in Eburacum

Greetings history lovers!

Welcome to the first post in what we hope will be an ongoing blog series called Roman Ghosts.

We all love a good ghost story, and as everyone reading this presumably loves ancient history, we thought it would be fun to combine the two.

In this series (which will be posted sporadically as we discover more Roman ghost stories) we will not be setting out to prove or disprove anything. We’re not scientists, myth busters, or ghost hunters.

With the Roman Ghosts series, we’re interested in the stories and sightings themselves. At the end of this inaugural post, you’ll see how you can help and be a part of this.

Artist impression of Eburacum, Roman York

The first Roman ghost story we’re going to look at is one that you may be familiar with.

In the province of Britannia, one of the principal legionary bases was that of Eburacum (also ‘Eboracum’), or modern York.

York is a beautiful city today with some amazing medieval remains, York Minster, the Shambles, the Yorvik Viking Centre and more. I’ve been to York several times and enjoyed myself immensely each time.

The Roman ruins of York are less visible than the grand medieval remnants such as the walls and Petergate, but they are there.

In fact, the oldest part of York today was built pretty much on top of the original legionary base.

Ordnance Survey Map – Roman York

Today’s High Petergate runs from the northwest to southwest along the line of the orginal Via Principalis of the legionary base, and York Minster was built on top of the Principia, the headquarters building of the legion. Among the more visible Roman ruins is the multi-angular tower located to the southwest of Petergate itself.

If you know where to look in York, there are indeed Roman remains to be seen, including beneath York Minster, and, one of my favourite places, beneath the Roman Bath pub where you can visit the remains of the fortress’ baths after a pint and a good meal.

Remains of the Roman baths of Eburacum, on display beneath the Roman Bath pub

York, or Eburacum, was famous for its connections with a couple emperors, including Constantine the Great, whose statue sits outside the minster, and before him our own Septimius Severus. In fact, I’ve set part of Warriors of Epona, and the upcoming Isle of the Blessed in Eburacum during Severus’ time there.

Roman (with medieval additions) multi-angular tower in Eburacum

But we’re here to talk about ghosts, aren’t we?

On my first visit to York I took a walking tour. Our guide told us many things, but what stuck with me the most from that tour was the tale of a young plumber who, in 1953, says he saw Roman soldiers come out of a wall where he was working in the cellar of the Treasurer’s House.

There are many theories about places holding memory, and about how the spirits of the departed may linger in a place where they spent time.

Eburacum was home to two British legions for over 300 years! First, it was garrisoned by the IXth Hispana Legion from about A.D. 71-121. This is the famous ninth legion that some believe went missing after a campaign in Caledonia, and which was made famous in the novel The Eagle of the Ninth by Rosemary Sutcliff. After that legion vanished (or was assigned to another part of the Empire), Eburacum was garrisoned by the VI Victrix Legion which remained there for close to three hundred years and may have been the last legion to leave Britannia when Rome pulled out.

Needless to say, a few generations of Romans called Eburacum ‘home’.

The Treasurer’s House, York (picture: The National Trust)

The Treasurer’s House is located just to the north of the minster, near the Roman Via Decumana of the old legionary base. This is where, in 1953, eighteen-year-old Harry Martindale, an apprentice plumber, first saw a troop of about twenty ghostly Roman soldiers.

According to Martindale, he was working alone in the cellar of the Treasurer’s House, the lowest point of which was the original Roman road, possibly the Via Decumana itself.

While he was on a ladder, he heard an odd sound, as if some sort of music was playing, a horn of some sort, perhaps a cornu. He looked down from his ladder and there saw the top of a helmet come out of the solid wall he was working at.

He stumbled down and fell into a corner to watch in terror as several legionaries, as well as a mounted cavalryman, marched out of the wall, along the road, and then disappeared into an opposite wall!

The wall in the cellar of the Treasurer’s House where Martindale saw the Roman ghosts come out.

The strange, and terrifying thing is that Martindale did not say they were cloudy apparitions such as we might expect ghosts to be. Rather, as he sat on the floor watching them, he noticed that they looked as real as you or I. He could see the details of their armour, weapons, clothing, and even the stubble upon their faces!

He also noticed that when they came out of the wall, they were only visible from the knees up, that is, until they stepped onto the Roman road itself and their feet finally became visible.

Now, if that doesn’t send a chill down your spine, I don’t know what will!

Harry Martindale in an interview years later in front of the wall where he saw the ghostly Romans

Harry described all he had seen to historians and they confirmed that the details he described, of the armour and weapons etc. were genuine and accurate, and may have been Roman auxiliary troops. It has also been hypothesized that, because of the date of that particular road level and the details Harry described, the ghostly troopers may well have been part of the IXth Hispana Legion which had gone missing.

Who knows. If the shades of these legionaries experienced a traumatic slaughter in the highlands of Caledonia, then perhaps their ghosts eventually returned to Eburacum where they still march along the roads today?

Petergate in York, built on the Roman Via Principalis

Harry Martindale was not the only one to have seen the shades of these Roman soldiers over the years. Before him, the old caretaker had seen them, but said nothing for fear of being ridiculed. A later caretaker also saw them after Harry’s experience.

My guide in York claimed that other Roman legionary ghosts had been spotted marching down the streets of York at night too, and it’s not hard to imagine when you walk around that ancient city. It seems made for ghosts!

I don’t know if the latter is true, or if Martindale’s story is legitimate. It does seem odd though that a young working boy could have such a detailed knowledge of Roman legionary or auxiliary kit, doesn’t it?

Either way, it’s a fantastic Roman ghost story!

Roman soldiers – a legionary and an auxiliary cavalryman (illustration by Angus McBride)

Earlier, I mentioned that there was a way in which you can be a part of the Roman Ghosts blog series…

If you know of any other Roman ghost stories in any country across what was the Roman Empire, then please do let us know about it and, if possible, send us a link to sources or articles that refer to that particular ghost story or sighting.

If you have any stories to share with us that you would like us to look at, just reply to this e-mail or go to the Contact Us page on the Eagles and Dragons Publishing website.