#A ROMAN BRONZE LION-HEADED HANDLE

[blueiscoool]

A ROMAN BRONZE LION-HEADED HANDLE CIRCA 2ND-3RD CENTURY A.D.

[arthistoryanimalia]

#TwoForTuesday:

Ancient Roman lions on display at RISD Museum

1. LION'S-HEAD WATERSPOUT

c. 200 CE

Marble, 21.6 x 21.3 x 11.9 cm (8 1/2 x 8 3/8 x 4 11/16 in)

“This marble disk, carved in the form of a lion's head, would have functioned as an ornate waterspout in a fountain or nymphaeum (fountains with architectural settings for statuary) of a Roman House.

Embellishments such as this were popular in domestic gardens during the Roman era. The lion's features are now worn from centuries of weathering, and the calcium deposits around the mouth indicate a long period of use in antiquity. The back of the carved waterspout has been hollowed out into a funnel shape, which would have allowed a lead pipe (now lost) to stream water through the lion's open mouth.

In antiquity water displays were common in domestic settings — the sound of flowing water and the backdrop of a garden would have created a luxurious setting for entertaining guests.”

2. LION'S-HEAD HANDLE

2nd-3rd century CE

Bronze, 31.4 x 20.3 x 7.9 cm (12 3/8 x 8 x 3 1/8 in)

“The gaping jaws and bared teeth of this bronze lion's head convey the strength and ferocity that have made lions chosen guardian figures for millennia in both the Greek and Roman worlds. Representations of lions have been discovered in various contexts, appearing on gates and tombs in ancient Greece and on Roman sarcophagi (coffins), where they symbolize victory of the soul over death and evil. The four iron rivets visible in this lion's mane were the original attachments to a wooden door, chest, or perhaps a sarcophagus. This well-preserved handle, combining the artistic lion's head and the utilitarian swinging handle, is a stunning example of Roman decorative art.”

[demigodkin-diana-amazones]

MY MAIN DEMIGOD ATTRIBUTES:

-BOW & ARROW:

An enchanted bow and arrow that grants me the magical ability to fly. It can shoot flaming or explosive arrows from around a kilometre away. I can spin it like a helicopter propellor to temporarily levitate.

-EAGLE:

An imperial/golden eagle named Sporades. My watch-guard.

-PEGASUS:

A firey pegasus called Phoenix. Accompanies me on my travels.

OTHER: MY MILITARY ARMOUR & EQUIPMENT:

GAUNTLETS OF DESTRUCTION:

Steel gloves with claws and the magical ability to destroy anything. They also can catch on fire and shoot it when in rage or at will, in battle. Also, they have joints, so you can move your fingers in them.

GLADIUS:

Roman sword. My one is celestial bronze. It can catch on fire when in rage or at will, in battle. It has an eagle and wolf embossed on the handle. It also has a Roman motto engraved in the blade (something like, 'Pater Mavors vilige', 'For Rome', 'Roma invicta/victrix', 'Death is sweet in self-sacrifice', 'I'll take your soul', etc.). You can see the souls of Rome's enemies being trapped and tortured, in Tartarus, within my blade. You can also hear their screams from it.

PILUM:

A Roman spear, which was used by the legions.

SHIELD:

Round celestial bronze shield with Medusa's face embossed on it. Has the magical ability to turn enemies who look at it to stone. It can also clone itself and make a shield-wall. Also, it can reflect a bright light to temporarily blind ememies.

CAPE:

Purple or Burgandy/wine-coloured cape, which drapes from brooches on shoulders. Has the magical ability to blow the wind around it to make itself look more legendary. It makes the undead Roman ghosts' voices whisper curses/hatred towards their enemies, through the wind.

BROOCHES:

Golden sun-shaped brooches with wavy sun-rays.

ANGEL WINGS:

Large black angel wings that instinctively appear when I am falling.

ROMAN ARMOUR:

1. LORICA MUSCULATA:

Brown leather muscular torso armour. My one has an eagle/lion face on the chest, laurel branches on the collar-bones and rearing stallions on the ribs-all of which are embossed and made of celestial bronze.

2. LORICA SEGMENTATA:

Plated Roman armour. My one is made of silver steel with gold brass edges. As soon as I will my lorica segmentata to appear, it falls from the aether, onto my body-one plate at a time, until it fully forms.

ARM-CUFFS:

Elbow-high celestial bronze arm-cuffs, which can deflect missiles, including bullets and asteroids. Once my arms are crossed, they can shoot a column of fire or a lightning bolt.

GRIEVES:

Celestial bronze lower-leg armour. Has the ability to give more fatal kneeing.

BOOTS:

Brown leather knee-high boots with nail soles. Has the magical ability to cause earthquakes by marching. Can really kick ass.

SHOULDER-PADS:

Imperial shoulder pads with brown leather straps hanging from the shoulders.

TUNIC:

Red/purple wool/cotton/polyester knee-length tunic with elbow-length sleeves.

CINGULUM:

Brown leather Roman military belt with studded straps hanging from the front.

NECKLACE:

SPQR eagle necklace.

TATTOO:

SPQR phoenix tattoo.

TIARA:

Wonder-woman tiara. Has the magical ability to protect the head from weapons.

-WHISTLE:

-Eagle beak whistle attached to a necklace. It has the magical ability to summon my spirit animal companions, even from the other side of the world.

ROMAN HELMETS:

1. Roman General helmet with a red double-crest (two crests).

2. Roman legionary helmet-sometimes with red feathered wings on the sides.

HAIR-STYLE:

Black warrior braid with Jewish fringe (a strand of hair framing each side of the face).

NOTES:

-My armour and military equipment can appear from the aether (ethereal air of the gods), at will.

-I usually don't wear my helmet, because I prefer showing my hair.

-The lion on my leather armour represents courage and ferociousness. The eagle represents vigilance, determination and The Roman Empire. The laurel branches represent power and imperialness. The horses represent unmercy, relentlessness, destruction, strength and stamina.

-I got my SPQR phoenix tattoo burnt into my arm when I touched a tree and a phoenix symbol burned into its trunk. I think that it could have been a sign from Mars that he is claiming me.

-I got my bow and arrow from the sky. It fell from the sky and I caught it. I think that it might have been a gift for me from the gods.

[romegreeceart]

Roman bronze hanging lamp with silver inlay

* From the excavations at Hotel Cluny, Paris

* 1st century CE

* A large, ornate lamp, with dolphin handles and the foreparts of lions projecting from each side; heads of the god Pan decorate the underside of the nozzles (Museum information card)

* British Museum

London, July 2022

[alchemist-shizun]

Sic itur ad astra?

Read on Ao3!

See the marvelous fanart!

Taglist: @bookwormscififan @be-more-chaotic @logicalberry @softanxiouspatton @pushussmollworld @kim-argent-moon @jeevashun @whizzie72 @jajathelivingmeme @mylifeisadeceit @sometimeswritingsometimesdying

General taglist: (tell me if you want to be added) @whizzie72 @sapphire-knight @burningpersonflapsuitcase

Word Count: 13,024

Characters: (prince!)Roman, (vampire!)Deceit, (mage!)Remus, (kid!)Virgil, (mage!)Logan, (mage!)Patton [These are all sympathetic]

Pairing(s): Roceit, (background) Logicality

Warning(s): Violence, blood, eye and face injury, crying, kissing, toxic parenting, death mention, swearing, locking up

Summary: He could see nothing from his left eye but there was no pain, there was no adjustment to be made because it felt like he had been like that his whole life. In the middle. Between pain and numbness, recovery and illness, sight and blindness. Life and death, light and dark. Because of his condition, all that he was, also wasn’t.

A/N: Holy stars. I did it. Okay Pardon me for taking so long, I realized it was going to be pretty long and I would have never been able to write it in less than a month. This idea originated from this post, but in the end it is really nothing like the Princess and the Frog. If you want easter eggs, check the name meaning of the places! And now, I’ll leave you to your hopefully enjoyable reading.

✾

Amnemoneo Town (Former Dukedom), 1865.

« I believe we reached your destination, sir. »

« I suppose so. »

A young man stood beside the gate of a manor, which was glimmering under the blinding sunlight of a Friday morning.

Baroque keys were placed in his hands while his eyes scanned the vividly emerald gardens that looked like real crystals, and contrasted the obsidian exterior of the manor. The building, decorated with gothic features, dominated the area and stood imposing.

The dark of the night would have made the sight … eerie, for sure. The sound of the carriage taking off brought him back to his senses, he turned to raise his arm in a greeting motion.

« Take care, sir … » he couldn’t hear his name over the rumor of horses’ hooves.

His hands moved swiftly over the lock, as if he had done the same motion daily over the years, one of those things you learnt to do with your eyes closed.

With a twist, the gate was open and he followed the rocky path towards the door. His short boots touched the ground in a consistent but not loud one-two, one-two pace.

Bronze plaques and other decorations beautified the entrance; the handle, picturing a lion’s head as the banality of that age’s symbolism wanted, made the young man smirk.

« How pompous. » he mused, and wondered what kind of high power once ruled over the land. A forgotten one perhaps?

With a twist of the handle to the right and some pulling toward himself, the man was surely not ready for the wondrous sight laid out in front of his eyes.

Not only the rooms were immensely spacious, but the expensive-looking furniture, the flooring and ornaments inside together with the perfect usage of dark and light spaces, made it seem like the world and nature around it existed in function to the manor itself. As if that space had always been meant to stand for that building alone.

The heels of his boots clinked against the marble pavement, his fingertips traced invisible discontinuous lines on the voile and velvet curtains he had started to open up.

He smiled as the house started to come to life.

Exploring new spaces often had this cathartic effect on him, as if he’d locked himself in a quiet small room and he had been in need of fresh air.

And when he stepped into a room, in the far back of the house, with dark curtains covering the entrance, when he heard the slight change of sound in his steps, that was when he allowed himself to look down from the garlands hanged on the walls.

Pulling odd familiarity. It was what he felt, what he was finally aware of sensing as soon as his honey-colored irises set their glare upon the pavement.

Tiny tiles of black, orange and white were the background and a frame for a yellowish skeletal figure, seemingly facing the earth. They were giving their back to the man, venturing in the void in front of themselves.

So he smiled. The pulling energy made him slowly move closer to the mosaic, lowering himself on his knees right next to it. His hand seemed to be moving with a mind of its own, hovering over the air right above the depicted skeleton.

Lower.

Lower.

He touched it and, as expected, nothing happened, except for amusement to wash over him.

Of course, what was he thinking? His fate wasn’t going to be like that, at least for a long while.

That wasn’t how beings like him ended up, trapped in a wooden box six feet under the ground. Most times, they were burned alive through howling screams of inhuman pain.

His smile faded and found himself lying next to the figure, his back on the uncomfortable tiles that dug into his skin.

Sure, he could have focused on the beautiful chandelier on the ceiling, the candles still extinguished from years of neglect.

Instead, his mind traveled toward mysterious paths and his hand went from the mosaic to his upper lip, narrowing his eyes and zoning out.

The tip of his tongue went over his upper teeth, causing his lips to part ever so slightly.

With the same hand now raised above his head, a sunray allowed itself to let his yellow glove glow into its presence. He took it off and his white skin shined along with the black of his nails.

People would have thought he’d have it burned off in a matter of seconds.

Legends were curiously foolish.

The man stood up in an agile movement, leaving the skeletal figure behind the same way the idea of death disappeared from his destiny when he had become a vampire.

« Let’s go get some sunburn. » he joked.

It was extremely painful, seeing how the gardens were practically bared of any kind of plant, the wild flowers that hadn’t yet died already wilting under the weight of their stem.

There was a saying back in his town. “Looking high and looking low”, a reminder of being aware of your surroundings in every situation.

Now, our marquis swore he had been careful.

At least, until the moment in which he only looked up at a cloud right above him, ignoring the acuminated object that he was about to step onto.

He could only face the ground before he shut his eyes in a flash and a metal object gripped half of his face, digging into his skin with a merciless push.

To that, the man contrasted a frantic pulling, removing the object as he felt a liquid substance leave his insides and spread all over his hands and face both.

If it hadn’t been for his pretty decent strength, he would’ve probably taken much longer to take it off. Then again, a human being would have been dead by then.

That wasn’t an option for him.

He clutched his face with his left hand, trembling with shots of pain, that traveled through his entire body.

Eyes squeezed shut, he stumbled in the dark and fell to his knees, seething with every doleful scream that escaped his lips wide apart.

He was hunched over himself, the sun rays hitting his exposed skin felt like violent poles through his neck, as he forced down his left arm and lowered it on his legs.

His non-injured eye tentatively opened to be met with nothing more than the contrast between his black clothes and his lavished white skin.

And …

he got blinded by something flickering on his palm. Did some of the rocks end up on his arm?

The unnamed man went for another try, shielding his eye with his free hand.

Gold.

His vision was dark and red with suffering, but all he could see was gold.

He bit hard at his lower lip, breaking it apart just enough to feel more of that same fluid flowing down. He raised his finger and wiped off some of it.

Again, gold.

His mind raced and, as he fell to the ground, blacking out of exhaustion, he came to a single conclusion.

“Royal blood.”

✾✾✾

And just like that, he was awake. The light was … dimmed. Not because grand part of the day had passed, but he felt like he was in the shade.

Well, that would have certainly helped prevent him from getting sunburnt, in the least.

Hold on a moment. Why was he lying face first in the middle of the garden?

« It’s him. » whispers came from around him, he turned his head and was met with three curious children faces.

Curiosity that soon turned into horror. Disgust.

Two children backed away and ran, like two dashing bolts of lightning, deep into the forest that separated him from the inhabited part of town.

One, though, was still staring at him.

He stared back, narrowing his eyes, confused by their reaction, the shadows that he thought he could see with his left eye – which had yet to focus on the scene – and the fact that he had barely woke from his … what? It wasn’t like he had decided to drop down and take a nap just like that.

« I know there’s someone that can help with that. » the kid in purple simple robes spoke softly, but with the typical high pitched voice of an eight-year-old.

Why wasn’t he able to see clearly from both of his eyes?

« Help? » he hoped they didn’t find out about him so quickly.

« Yes. » the boy had his hands wrapped around the gate bars, his face in between them. « For your scar and your eye. »

Everything came back to him at once, like a kick right to his teeth.

The hit, the pain, the screams.

The golden blood.

His hand went to his cheek and, even through his gloves, he could perceive the uneven section of his skin, as if someone had clawed it away. The left eye could only see shadows of the outside world.

Around him, as inexplicable as it sounds, bushes full of flowers had appeared on the grass where the blood had touched it.

So not only he was a vampire.

« Go away. »

But he now would have to also endure be called a monster.

« Now. » the urgency in his voice matched the harshness in his eyes.

The boy gave him one last glance, visibly more intimidated than earlier, and slowly walked away. He made sure to leave a certain piece of paper on the ground, though. Not because he wanted to litter, of course, the kid had manners!

It was just … in case the man needed him.

And he knew the man wouldn’t have lasted, as everything was going according to plan; before we may carry on with the marquis’ fate, we need to first introduce him.

His name was Remus, and he was a prince.

Hah.

Who are we kidding?

The name was Remus and he held the title of the most unfortunate soul of the kingdom he had wanted to forget the name of for about … as long as he’s had a conscience.

Still not convinced?

Let me tempt you to change your mind by starting from the beginning.

Remus was a duke and it was high time that he dropped in our story. Now, be mindful that we said was and not is.

The town he now lived in was once the Dukedom of Amnemoneo, which may sound familiar for our sharpest readers who were careful of our beginning statement.

Even for them, though, we need to go back to a couple of years earlier, when laws weren’t discarded and superstitions were stronger than a man’s own reason.

1839 was the rampant year of the estimated birth of the prince of Ameleia, an event which was awaited by all the people with profound trepidation: the face of the future ruler had always been a privilege for the world to see as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

What they didn’t know, though, was that they would have been blessed actually by two princes that year. What was wrong with that?

They were twins.

In the kingdom of Ameleia, during that particular age of radical puritanism, having twins was the equivalent of selling your soul to evil external forces of hell.

The thought of the good and evil twin, the angel and the literal Antichrist, it was so deep-rooted in the souls of the people that, despite the royalty’s awareness of how fake those beliefs were, the two brothers were forced to separate.

One destined to be a prince, the other to be the duke of an inconsequential land of the kingdom.

The good and the evil.

Only that, the dukedom wasn’t exactly … standing out in any field. Misery had started to pour down on its citizens which led to, eventually, fall into the pit of seemingly non-existent lands that the kingdom had forgotten about.

The sovereigns had also tried to forget Remus.

Judging by how often they made sure he was still alive, which was zero times since they parted ways as he was still a child to be raised by servants in the dukedom’s manor, they had probably made it, too.

So, just like that, when misery had devastated the town so much that any existent title fell and Remus found himself at sixteen locked out of his manor behind the woods, the servants declared their retirement to major families and parted ways with him once and for all. But most of all, he felt the utmost loneliness.

People in town didn’t know much about him, he was aware of his condition, but had always been refrained from talking about it with anyone other than the servants in the building he hardly ever left.

Until one day, around his- their eighteenth birthday.

He had tried his best to survive in the oblivion of poverty, he lived in an abandoned shop; Remus wasn’t exactly aware of how many rats he had crossed paths with while stumbling around the tiny rooms. Not to mention the cats that, seldom, decided to invade his vital space and scare him out of his life when they woke him up by hopping on his chest.

He should have considered windows, had there been any shop of that kind in town.

Don’t even get the people started on food, the subject that made the worst come out of them.

He had tried to go out in a moment that wasn’t the dark of the night. It didn’t exactly go as he had wished.

In front of him, two imposing royal guards blocked his way out of the door. Their faces edgy, expressions hard and eyes dull. It took him a moment to recognize them. Were they going to take him back? After all those years of neglect?

He flinched as both the men unsheathed their swords at him.

« Woah, nice to see you again, too. »

« Silence! » now who were they to behave like that in front of a person of such importance?

« Excuse me? Alright, I might look raveled but a couple of years rotting would do that to anyone. Even a prince like m- »

« Silence. » another repeated.

And hit Remus in the stomach with the hilt of his sword-

The boy contorted with pain with a hand on his stomach and the other on the ground, to alleviate his fall.

His mind raced trying to give himself a reason for their attitude. Two soldiers in disguise? Had he done something illegal? Did they mistake him for someone else?

His ears were ringing, but the only thing he actually heard was his mind going why, why, why, why?

« The royalty is coming. »

Remus regained that tiny bit of strength to look up at them and spoke with a broken voice. « Y-You mean my parents? »

A kick came to his face and he decided against speaking any further.

« Prince Roman is going to visit the Royal Manor, too. »

Oh, and who exactly cared?  Just another name in the “people that turned their back on you their whole life” list.

Why was he bothering to show up after eighteen years?

« And you, » the taller guard leaned down, spitting out his words. « Won’t be allowed out of this place until he leaves. Clear? »

Remus could only eye him from the ground he had been trying to get up from. « Crystal. » he muttered, without missing his sarcastic tone as the two men left.

So his parents were embarrassed of him to the point of not showing up in his presence? Big deal. Who cared?

He ended up spending a week of almost literal imprisonment before he was let out.

There was no living soul able to tell how he managed to survive. The boredom, though, had brought him to actually clean the place around for once and find out about its origins.

It happened when a singular book stood out of a shelf, as if eager to be picked up. Remus did as it desired. Pages flipped in front of his eyes before he had been able to touch a single scrap of paper and he was directed to a particular segment of a paragraph which seemed to be handwritten years earlier, before the former owner left the place.

Magic antiques were the only readable words.

After some looking around – and a myriad of unrecognizable unknown objects inside cabinets – he decided he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Thus the years spent into mastering the Art of Transfiguration all the bookshelves of the abandoned shop seemed to offer.

Of course, mistakes happened almost constantly at first, especially the permanent one that turned a streak of his hair white: he had been trying to recite a formula to turn one of the rats into an inanimate object.

He ended up transforming himself into a white animal, but that was beyond the point and he wasn’t going to bring that up to anyone. He’d have preferred to fake a heart wrenching and tragic backstory.

And, well, when he heard of the northern man coming to town on the same period of time as Roman used to yearly come back for some reason, when Remus learnt to automatically lock himself in his shop, an idea dawned on him.

And with it, he was sure he was going to get his Manor back.

That was the reason why, when he saw a boy in purple robes walking with a couple of kids in the deserted streets, mumbling about the gossip going around on the newcomer, he carefully approached with a piece of paper in his hand.

« Hello there, children. » he crouched down at their eye level. « Do you want to know a secret about him? »

And children? Well, they were far too gullible. What was even better about it was when fate was on your side; fate that, in that moment, had the name of a certain metallic trap he had left in the middle of the manor’s garden he hadn’t seen in years.

Everything was falling into place.

✾✾✾

Just like Roman thought earlier that day as both he and the newcomer had just arrived in town.

He had been walking around towards a lesser known path he used to take to reach a certain family’s residence.

That was when Roman saw him, standing next to an open carriage led by a pair of black horses that seemed to sternly stare him down.

He was … odd. Unlikely to be common part of the citizens, the man stood out compared to the commoners roaming in the streets and he was unable to tear his eyes off of him.

Unknown, however, kept his back facing the prince, as he helped the coachman heave up a bag on the carriage. He moved with delicacy even while stretching his muscles.

Roman wondered for a moment if he were living some kind of lucid dream.

Since there was no way for him to turn his head 360°, he forced himself to keep his gaze straight ahead and forget about that crystalline laughter he just so happened to overhear while walking on to other side of the road.

And, oh, what a particularly handsome look he portrayed with his features and-

Right, the household.

Blood that just overflowed left his cheeks and he crossed the hidden path: it was pretty weird how none, apart from the family he was about to visit, in that town seemed to recognize him. Still, his parents were always eager to remind him to let himself be seen the less he could, ever since he had decided to travel to Amnemoneo alone.

« Ro-bro! »

Roman’s head snapped up and a huge smile automatically spread on his lips, recognizing whose voice it was in an instant. He was only able to see a flash of purple running towards him as tiny arms were lacing around his waist.

A kid’s face looked up at him, big lilac eyes boring into his own.« You’re back! »

« Of course I am, Vivi. »

« I told you not to call me that. » the kid whined, frowning at him and loosening a bit of his embrace.

« Alright, alright, as you wish, my lord. » Roman lowered only to pick him up from under his shoulders.

« That’s a better title. » no ten-year-old should have been able to have that kind of sarcasm.

Roman scoffed. « I should tell Logan and Patton to stop spoiling you. »

« Falsehood! »

The prince couldn’t help but laugh as the kid mimicked his father, failing in sounding as serious as him. Roman held his hand out to the boy.

« Come on Virgil, let’s go in. »

✾✾✾

He loved visiting his friends. When he surpassed the limit between the street and the gate of their property, a welcoming warmth washed over him and he felt at home, like he’d always belonged there, a mystical comfort that eased up whatever worries concerned him.

Patton was to blame for picking up a few tricks from his wizard husband, for sure.

Roman knocked on the door and it didn’t take long for Patton’s arms to be wrapped around him with a gasp.

« Woah, hey buddy. » the prince stumbled backwards before releasing his friend.

« We sensed you were coming. » Patton confessed, pointing behind himself where Logan was standing, smiling and waving a hand in their direction.

Roman waved back, amused. « I literally can’t hide anything from you, can I? »

They invited him, basically being pushed and pulled by both Virgil and Patton, excitedly, towards a certain cake they all helped to make (especially Virgil for the little precise decorations.) in honor of his birthday.

Everything in their home sparked a magical energy: Logan had always been a mage in the shadows, careful not to be discovered thanks to his profession as biologist and doctor, in some way. After Patton made his way into his life, magic started being part of him, too. The barrier around their home was his doing, it kept away people with malevolent intentions and let the other ones be welcomed in a soft invisible embrace.

As for Virgil … they didn’t really talk about that. Roman knew something about a scientific experiment and a reject they found. He knew they had saved him and given him a life. But the kid wasn’t ready to know the truth yet, so it wasn’t a topic to bring up.

« Oh, speaking of which. » Logan lowered the cup he was bringing to his lips. « Did you hear of the marquis moving to town today? »

Roman snapped back to reality. « He’s a marquis? »

« You saw him?! » Virgil leaned forward with wide eyes and curiosity written all over his face.

All gazes were set on him. « Well, I believe I might have seen him before coming here. » the memory of the man’s figure flashed in his mind. « He didn’t look like he was from town. » Roman didn’t mention his other considerations.

« Are you going to marry him? »

Children and their perfectly embarrassing questions. But there was definitely nothing awkward about it, was there? He didn’t even know the man.

« Calm down, Vi, that’s not how it works. » Logan softly pushed him back against his seat to sit up straight.

« But he has a title, like Ro-bro. Isn’t it logical? »

He smiled. « Well- »

« You have to admit, » Patton chimed in, repressing a giggle. « Virgil has a point. »

Virgil turned to Logan with a toothy grin, a silent “see?” was understood between the two of them.

« Why don’t you ask Roman about it? »

« Yes. » the prince admitted with a defeated sigh. « I was planning on bringing him here to announce our engagement but you had to ruin that! » he faked an accusing tone.

« That’s what you get for betraying me! You said you were going to make me a prince. » Virgil pouted and Roman really had to stop himself from pinching his cheeks.

He stood up and approached him, crouching down next to his seat. « Let me tell you a secret. » he began stage whispering. « I can still do that, when I am king, you can become my prince son!  Come with me and run away from these two oldies. »

A chorus of “excuse you?” followed with the other two’s laughter.

As hours flew by and Virgil left to play with some friends, Roman found himself back at the front door, which was being held for him.

« Are you sure you don’t want to stay and eat something? » Patton searched the prince’s face with instinctual concern.

« You know it’s not a problem for us to conjure a seat for you. Or anything else, if you desire to stay. » added Logan, with a tone softer than usual.

Roman had always found endearing how protective they were of him: before they settled in Amnemoneo, they used to meet each other quite often. Logan and Patton seemed to be on every path Roman had to cross and, eventually, they grew attached to each other.

Then again, the prince visited their town every year around his birthday, in a sort of tradition, to have a little theatrical representation in his honor.

Only that he had to be given permission to occupy the manor, so …

« I must go to the town hall, to check the availability of the building, same old required formalities. » Roman half-smiled. « Thank you, regardless. »

And exchanging goodbyes, off he was, unaware of the fact that he had to make yet another trip to the building which was occupied by our beloved marquis.

✾✾✾

A beloved marquis who had left that same building a couple of hours earlier than when the prince had gone to the town hall.

He was … defeated. So, he surrendered to the will of persuasion and picked up the piece of paper left at the gates by the purple clothed kid.

A visiting card?

Looking like this, it was unlikely for him to show himself with the sun still shining up above in the surprisingly limpid sky. It would have rendered his scarred face just as clear to the ones roaming mindlessly in town.

For some reason, most of the population seemed to aimlessly wander about all the time, in a state of daze.

Was anybody actually going to notice his presence at all?

As if pulled by an outer force that had already made up his mind, the man crumpled up the paper card in his hand he clutched to his chest and moved through the forest like it was his second home.

He dragged his feet between the crunch of autumn leaves and the damp grass still suffering from the rain of the day before. His fingertip brushed the injured side of his face a second time.

And he felt nothing.

He could see nothing from his left eye but there was no pain, there was no adjustment to be made because it felt like he had been like that his whole life. In the middle. Between pain and numbness, recovery and illness, sight and blindness.

Life and death, light and dark.

Because of his condition, all that he was, also wasn’t.

So when he hurt himself to the point of almost mortally wounding himself, he also didn’t. The bleeding stopped in no time and the injury only left an ugly mark.

But, of course, on top of that, he had to discover he had golden blood. Royal blood, which meant not only sharper senses and abilities than average of his kind, but also an overly deadly power roaming in his insides.

Maybe that was why, years earlier, that old woman inexplicably died the day after she wiped his face clear of tears and offered him shelter. One of the many places he had to run away from.

The marquis had no time to ponder about his condition, as his feet stopped right in front of the entrance of his destination.

« Well, well, well, what have we here. »

He looked to his left and saw a man hanging upside down from the opened window, looking amused in his direction.

« I didn’t expect you so soon. You didn’t leave me time to make myself presentable! »

In all honesty, he had to agree. That other man looked … absolutely disheveled, as if he had dressed in the dark and hadn’t looked in a mirror for a lifetime.

Not that most of the citizens here didn’t send the same aura.

He looked down to the visiting card. « You’re Remus? »

« The one, » he began, moving swiftly from the window to the door he opened right after, stepping aside to let the man see the desert inside. « And lonely. » he theatrically bowed.

The marquis was then pulled in by Remus, who shut the door behind them and led them to a counter at the centre of the modest room.

« Now, let’s see. » he flipped through the pages of an enormous tome. « A curious spell for our particular vampire. »

The man’s eyes widened in shock.

« Wh- » he was met with a smirk. « How- » the marquis backed away, the utmost fright rising in his chest. His back touched the shelf against the wall.

« Aw, now, fear not, my dear foreigner. » Remus let the door open with a swift movement of his wrist. « You can leave, if you so desire. »

The newcomer eyed him warily. There was no way that wasn’t a trap.

Remus tilted his head and contorted his mouth. « You don’t want to? Fine with me. »

« Wait. »

« I’ll make you leave … as a newer person than how you entered! »

The marquis’ eyes were blinded by a flashing light that seemed to have completely devoured him.

He felt his body shrink, twist and contort under the weight of a thousand formulas that were operating on his form.

A thundering headache caught his forehead and he curled on himself until he couldn’t feel his limbs anymore, his eyes squeezed shut.

When he was able to open them again, he recognized exactly in what condition he ended up.

Remus had turned him into a bat.

But wait, he was already able to do that, what was the usefulness behind that?

He tried to get back to his human body.

And tried.

And tried again.

Nothing happened.

Dear god.

« Hope you enjoy your whole new life, special costumer, and remember, » Remus managed to drive the bat out of his shop. « No take-backs! » he slammed the door shut.

And the marquis flew away frantically for his life, which was probably going to change forever.

Only that he didn’t know it was because the encounter he was about to have at the manor.

✾✾✾

Gosh, that was inconvenient!

Roman played with the lock at the gates, going over the bass-relief decorated on top. The consistency of the material noted that a very long time had passed since someone had inhabited the place. Yet, now there seemed to be someone?

Waiting for them was the right thing to do and not totally creepy, right?

Ri-?

Like a flock of ravens storming away in the morning from the local farmer’s terrain, Roman heard an erratic drumming of wings toward his general direction and ducked whatever was coming down at him.

There was a thud and a screech before the prince was able to spot a barely moving bat lying painfully on the ground.

« Oh. » Roman stood in his place for a few seconds. « Oh, dear. » he crouched down next to the animal, which appeared to be a diurnal bat.

Perhaps it had gotten lost?

« Hey, little one- woah! » it tried to move, as if in fear of his presence, when Roman’s hand motioned toward its body.

He examined it to look for a way to heave it up and his eyes fell on the left wing. The broken tissue was tangled in a leaf on the ground.

« Oh, you poor thing! » there had always been this complex but profound understanding when it came to animals: he felt like they had some kind of connection with him.

As he leaned over the bat, he could almost feel its pain. He had to help.

Roman tried to pacify it by speaking softly, while he attentively eased it in his hands. He had a single place in mind.

« No panic, little friend. » he whispered, mostly to himself, biding his farewell to the manor and the unseen marquis behind himself. « We’re going to get you all better in no time. »

He had to find Logan again.

✾✾✾

« Did you change your mind? » Patton abruptly cut off as Roman stormed into his and Logan’s home for the second time that day.

« I require a hand. » the prince announced, approaching Logan who had been eyeing him since he entered the room. « A scientific one, if that’s possible. » Roman added, showing the animal cupped in his hands.

The bat tried to stretch both wings, failing miserably.

« That’s odd. »

« Huh? »

Logan searched for something specific none but him could name. « This is an adult bat and yet he seems to not have adjusted to his body entirely. » without taking his eyes off the creature, he moved them both towards the table Logan used for his experiments and works. « Furthermore, there’s no such thing as bat hunting here. And yet it looks like something might have scared him. Plus, there are no bats around here. »

The animal was laid on a piece of cloth on the table’s surface and the doctor started taking his tools out.

A pair of curious eyes stared from the other side of the room.

« Do you want to assist, Virgil? » Logan looked at him with the corner of his eyes, offering him a smile. The kid beamed and rushed to his side, while Roman observed their work from the other side of the table, Patton joining them shortly after.

« Be careful, please. » Roman stared in anticipation at the bat, as if expecting to feel pain in an empathetic sort of link.

Logan stopped and glanced at him through his glasses, a grin on his lips. « You still emotional over animals? »

« Shut your mouth and do your magical science. »

Though he was baffled at the oxymoron, Logan complied regardless, with Virgil handing him what he needed at his side.

It didn’t take long before Patton and Virgil were the only ones left in the room to tend to the creature as the other two discussed the happening over coffee.

« Could you imagine if he could talk? » the kid abruptly turned to his father. « He would tell us what he was escaping from. »

Patton made a humming sound, considering the idea. « Well, there might be a way. » he conceded, opening a small notebook and flipping through the pages. When he found the right spell, he turned to look at his son.

« Just for a couple of minutes, okay? » a mischievous but child-like smile formed on Virgil’s lips, satisfied.

That one was the exact moment in which all of our stories converged.

With Patton’s magic flickering in the room and toiling with the chains of the incommunicability between two beings that don’t talk the same language.

« Hey, Mr. Bat, you can talk now! »

« Oh, can I? » a sarcastic satin voice broke the anticipation. « Wait. Was that me? » the marquis’ day was already so weird, that might as well have happened too.

« This is so cool! It worked! » Virgil leaned enthusiastically over the animal, which was questioning the insanity of his earlier choice. Not that he could do much else.

« What worked? » Logan’s voice sounded hurried across the room.

« Oops. »

Patton revealed a sly smile to his husband, pretending they did nothing big like giving a previously non sentient creature the ability to speak.

At least they thought he wasn’t sentient before.

« What’s going on? »

« Virgil? »

« Patton! »

« Excuse me! » all those present turned their heads toward the source of sound, who was none else but the animal himself. « I believe I might be the most perplexed one in here. »

Logan sighed deeply and approached the table. « I apologize … » he stopped, unsure of how he should have carried on. « How do you address a bat? »

« Let me do the talking. » Roman shoved him aside, the buzzing feeling of his connection to the animal lingered. « Greetings, amiable creature. It just so happens that- »

« It’s you. » the bat stared intensely in Virgil’s direction after heaving himself up the best he could.

« Huh? » was all the kid could say.

« You gave me the card. You told me he would have helped. I wouldn’t actually call this helping, you know? »

Then, it dawned on Virgil. « You’re the marquis? »

« Precisely, somehow. »

Everybody’s behavior seemed to change at that; the kid realized his mistake, Roman slowly backed away in sudden shyness while Patton and Logan connected the dots.

« You sent him to Remus? » both of them demanded in unison, surprised. They had warned him plenty of times in the past not to approach the man’s shop: it wasn’t exactly because they believed him to be wicked, as they had never interacted, but any magician was at war with another unless stated otherwise. It seemed to be an unspoken rule, none was to be trusted.

« You know him? » the man, now bat, felt hope rise in his chest.

« Barely. » Patton admitted. « His shop has this weird peculiarity which causes it to change place within the town every day. He doesn’t seem to be bothered, but it’d surely be a pain to find him now. »

If bats could sigh in defeat, the marquis had just done that.

« Let’s start from the beginning. » Logan gathered some chairs with a swift movement of his wrist. « What exactly happened to you? »

Ah. That was going to be fun.

How to tell your story in detail while leaving out the plot points that determine that you’re a vampire while talking to four most likely intelligent people that could connect the dots in no time?

Truly a piece of cake for our favorite man of town, wasn’t it?

I came here, I contemplated my dead life on a mosaic, I injured myself with- I actually still have no idea what it was, a bunch of children saw me, your son handed me this visiting card, I went there and this charming guy had the nerve to transform me into a bat to solve my aesthetical issue.

Nailed it.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t exactly what he told them, but it was around there more or less.

Fortunately, they didn’t ask further questions; the real issue presented itself when Logan pointed out the hex Remus had thrown on the marquis was too powerful for his own magic.

After some discussing, they resigned to having to find him and force him to reverse the spell. Of course, in the meantime, Roman was the one to offer himself to help the bat in their mission.

« Oh! Are you going to marry him as a bat now? »

Roman sprinted out of the house with the animal in his hands as he heard a “What was that?” coming from him.

✾✾✾

« It must be tough, this whole situation I mean. To you. Finding yourself randomly flying at once. » Roman had no idea where all his eloquence had gone to, while he kept the bat steady on his shoulder.

They were on their way to the manor, just a few meters away from the gates, so that they could have made their plan to reach Remus while also arranging the place for the theater production.

Which was also never going to take place.

But Roman didn’t know that.

« Not really. » the marquis responded. « It’s easy to adjust to this condition. » he also was quick to add, as there were no means of explaining to the prince of the truth about his identity.

Mostly for his safety.

« Well then, that’s good. »

Awkward silence followed until the gates presented themselves to their eyes, now only a meter away. Of course, as the man’s body disappeared with his belongings, the key was gone too.

He guided Roman to a clearing in the bushes he had noticed before the inevitable had happened.

« Oh! That’s pretty. » the prince immediately marched towards a group of flowers seemingly put in a random disposition.

The marquis didn’t remember them being there.

He did remember golden blood, though.

« Wait! »

Roman halted altogether, confusion written all over his face. « They’re not going to eat me, sir. » he commented, as he crouched down in front of them.

« Please, you need to listen to me. » an urgent tone filled the silence of the gardens. « They weren’t there before. » an half-lie. « Knowing what happened to me, we better not touch anything else. » to preserve oneself.

Still baffled that simple plants could hurt anyone, Roman complied and slowly rose to his feet. His new direction was the wooden doors and, ultimately, that one very comfortable-looking sofa right in the middle of the vast living room.

The bat was placed on top of the coffee table and Roman leaned forward with his elbows on his knees to give him more attention.

In all honesty, he knew that was actually that tremendously handsome marquis he saw earlier that day, but gosh darn if he didn’t have the urge to pet the little animal every time he looked at him. Not his fault if he looked soft, now.

The prince cleared his throat. « Alright. The production can wait until we’ve found a way to turn you back. What do we know about Remus until now? »

« His spells are irreversible unless he’s the one to break them. »

« No asking Logan or Patton for help, then. »

« His shops shows up at random places at random times. »

« Unpredictable locations, we’d need to search the whole town every day. »

« He also looks a bit like you. »

Roman did a double take. « I’m sorry? »

If bats could shrug, the prince was sure he had just done that. « I’m just stating what I know about him. » he was given an odd look. « Don’t you worry, your majesty, you still win in attractiveness if that concerns you. »

And there Roman was, getting flustered because of a bat.

A handsome bat in person though.

He meant the person, of course.

Was he ever going to stop thinking about-

« I’m sure you do, too. »

« What was that? »

What the hell, Roman?

« Nothing! » he dramatically got up opening his arms. « So yeah, planning. »

« Sure. » the man didn’t sound convinced.

« The moment you heal your wing, you could fly up above the place so we can find the shop sooner. Until then, I could stay here and keep the rumors about your disappearance down by focusing the chattering on me, rather than you. »

« Am I wrong to believe you have a natural instinct of putting yourself in the spotlight or …? »

« Absurd. I am merely sacrificing my image to protect yours. » the ghost of a grin painted Roman’s lips.

« Oh, I am more than honored to be blessed by such generosity. » a giggle filled the room.

« I will grant you my protection. »

« I must thank you for your kindness, your Royal Highness. »

They would soon find to absolutely love that kind of bantering.

✾✾✾

Things … developed from there.

Between walks in town, with the bat rigorously on Roman’s shoulder and his claws gripping tight on his clothes, talks about their favorite interests.

Chasing.

They had almost made it once. They had seen a suspicious figure roaming in the narrowest streets. The man they saw had immediately pulled up his hood at their sight and vanished in the darkness of a dead end.

Underwhelmed by the event, they had called it a day and withdrawn to the manor.

That was when the marquis found out Roman actually recited lines from plays he had never heard out loud when dreadful feelings caught him.

He would lie on a mattress and throw an arm over his eyes. Then, his voice did the magic. He didn’t even need his body to express his emotions, already clear with the tone he used.

And yet, he whispered. He almost only mouthed them, but in his head, they were perfect.

To the bat’s ears, they were divine, to say the least.

Theatre was something they occasionally talked about, starting from the production that should have taken place in that very building, to every little piece of memory Roman held dear of plays he’d seen in his past.

He noticed his eyes shining bright as he jumped between different specks of his life, the excitement in his storytelling intensified every day more.

And with it, also the marquis’ … appreciation for the prince.

All the little details changed in his point of view as the weeks fled.

For instance, goodness, did he like his singing.

It was as if Roman went from reciting troubled monologues when sad, to singing his heart out in his happiest moments. And it was beautiful.

« Hold me. Whatever lies beyond this morning is a little later on. Regardless of warnings, the future doesn’t scare me at all. Nothing’s like before. »

When his wing had started to heal so much that he could fly a little, he often rushed to reach the prince and see the show.

And at some point, especially as Roman noticed him, he started partaking in them too.

Although he didn’t have a single idea on how acting worked and often ended up just mesmerized by Roman’s voice and the beauty that shined in him when he explained plots and intricate points with a fiery passion.

If somebody had asked him, he wouldn’t have been able to tell which was the exact moment where he developed feelings for the young prince.

Maybe upon hearing his giggling in the forest, while walking towards town. Maybe when he discovered yet another of his talents. Or maybe when he mixed singing with acting in the most splendid of exhibitions he had ever witnessed.

He had definitely come to terms with it when a thought dawned on him, the thought of having to leave him once his body was back. It ate away at his stomach, it was as if something inside him told him he should have stayed that way forever, if it meant keeping the prince by his side.

He didn’t want to lose him anymore.

Getting his body back would have meant having to part ways forever. The marquis knew he had to leave as soon as he could have. And it simply and utterly sucked.

He also knew he should’ve gotten rid of those feelings, none would have agreed to keep up with his lifestyle anyway.

Constantly on the run and go.

As he watched him dance alone in the mosaic room, he recognized that no, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

✾✾✾

For Roman, it was a little different.

Sure, he had always thought that the bat looked kind of adorable, but he couldn’t shake off the realization that he had seen the marquis’s human body. He knew what he looked like and it was kinda like he was hugging him constantly when he kept him in his hands, close to his chest.

And it wasn’t like he actually wanted to change that, once the issue was over.

Though, the thought of that made his heartbeat a tiny bit faster than usual, which made him an awful lot more flustered, as if he had just told the person concerned.

The feeling didn’t vanish with time, but only strengthened.

He couldn’t even imagine his baffled expression as the marquis trailed off in one of their conversations as he started talking about issues deep within the human soul.

The bat’s immense knowledge of both psychology and philosophy was to be admired, maybe the biggest Roman had ever encountered even between the royals around him.

There were some literary circles, but sometimes human sciences were frowned upon and the royalty was denied any kind of education on them.

« Roman? » the marquis had called out to the man lying on the couch in front of him.

Who was, at the moment, inexorably asleep with his face in his arms.

He was going to apologise about that for the rest of his life, but hey, when you’re tired, you’re tired.

It was also pretty endearing how he woke up to a blanket messily laid onto his body.

What demoralised him, despite all the giddiness in his stomach, was when he noticed the marquis seemed to be keeping something from him. Nothing he could pinpoint exactly, yet he knew there was a topic he brushed off.

Mostly when he talked about his family.

Nothing came out of those conversations, which led Roman to think of the worst: he couldn’t imagine what kind of relationship he must have or have had with his parents, or what sort of situation he was in.

What he was sure about was that he felt for him.

Felt happiness around him, empathy when the other was down, sorrow in words never spoken but events that had already happened and scarred the marquis’s heart.

He felt way deeper than how he felt for other people.

Thus, he could recognize that, ultimately, he fell for him, too.

✾✾✾

When you look for the perfect sign, you tend to withdraw until the right occasion presents itself.

« Goodness, » Roman laughed quietly in the kitchen, turned to the cupboards on the wall. « It seems people started spreading rumors about me being a vampire because they saw you on my shoulder. »

And when that happens, an anxious buzzing starts shaking your insides.

« That … would be a shame. » the bat looked down, unsure of his own words.

« Why would that be? » Roman turned with curiosity. « Sure, I’d lose some colour, but heightened senses? Amazing powers? »

« That depends. »

« How so? »

« Blood chaste. How you were turned. The assets of the vampire that turned you or gave birth to you. »

The prince smiled through pursed lips. « Seems like someone read a dark ancient book from the Index of forbidden books. »

« Well … » and the buzzing grew louder. « I can talk from experience, too. »

He waited for the realization to hit.

« W-wait. Do you mean you met them, or …? »

He sighed the same way a bat could. « It is not a curse, Roman, you can say it. But yes, the latter. »

What he was also waiting for was fear. Disgust. Rejection. Anything but whatever crossed the prince’s mind.

« Oh my- »

« I know- »

« -I haven’t been giving you proper food for weeks! »

What now?

The man wasn’t sure whether he thought it or actually said it out loud.

« How long can you go without blood? It’s been six weeks tomorrow, oh dear, you must be starving. » Roman put his hands on his hair. He had this instinctual habit of worrying for others’ well-being before actually thinking rationally about the situation around him.

Maybe it was his princely duties to make him think that way, maybe he really didn’t want to think about the wonderland he felt like he stepped into when he realized he fell in love- he fancied a vampire.

Actually, a myriad of thoughts swirled in his head.

« I- No, I’m perfectly fine. My blood chaste is the highest, meaning I can go a very long time without drinking. »

« Oh. »

« You don’t have to … worry? » the marquis tried.

“But I always worry about you” was what Roman wanted to answer.

« Are you, like, some kind of royal in your chaste? » that was when they started traveling down dangerous paths.

« Sort of. I only just found that out, when I bled because of the garden trap. » the marquis remembered how confused he felt at the glimmering liquid on his hand.

Roman’s voice and expression both softened up. « You … don’t know who turned you? »

« Honestly, I only have a name. It’s kind of complicated. »

« Very well then, » Roman placed a cup of hot flaming tea on the surface of the table, not too far away from the bat. He sat down. « I’m willing to understand. »

The marquis took a deep breath and paused, sorting out the thoughts in his head.

« I’m from a country in the north. You may think I’m wealthy because of my title, but its value is actually nonexistent. My parents barely had anything to survive and … well, when they felt their life slowly fade away, they knew I wasn’t going to make it on my own. Barely anyone in my town would have been able to. »

« Apparently, they had someone they could rely on. The only thing I know is his name is Thomas … » he paused. Maybe he should’ve gone to look for him ever since. « They had told me to open a box as soon as things went wrong. Inside, I found a vial and a letter with all the instructions. I followed them and prepared myself before, well, committing to the act. After that, I learnt everything I needed to know and started to look for different places to stay. »

The bat seemed to shrug. Roman had now his arms crossed on the table and his face half-buried in them, paying careful attention. He also wanted to hide the frown in his face.

« And now I’m here. »

« I wish- » the prince instantly commented, rising from his slouched position. « I don’t know. I just wish we would take better care of every single spot under our reign. »

« Roman. » the marquis spoke in a reprimanding but softer tone. « Both you and I know that’s impossible nowadays. »

« It still should be my duty to not let things like these happen. » he looked to the side. « But does the assembly ever listen to me? Absolutely not. You have no idea how many times I’ve told them about how we could change this town for the better. I’ve been rejected at any given prompt. »

Were he an actual human at the moment, Roman would have probably seen the compassion flooding the man’s face.

« I really don’t get it. It’s that simple! » the prince opened his arms. « And then- and then something like this happens. » he pointed to the bat. « Because people have no other choice, thanks to us. »

« It isn’t a wrong choice, though. » a pair of perplexed eyes set on him. « I mean, to some extent, I’m still alive. And I think, with the right knowledge and time to adjust, it isn’t so bad after all. »

« Well … »

« No, I’m serious. You might need to change your life, but years after you know your routine. And I don’t have to worry about many other issues I was constantly anxious about before. »

A small smile crept on Roman’s lips at that. « You sure? »

« I’m fine, Ro. Really. »

The prince considered, staring at the marquis with his head tilted to the side. There had to be something else he could have done, apart from giving him back his body. Something that could have assured his safety, to say the least.

Roman wished to erase all of his concerns.

« I want you to find a place where you can stay until it doesn’t fascinate you anymore. » he gave voice to his musings. « Maybe … you could come with me when we’re done here? » he suggested, slowly brightening as ideas formed in his mind. The theatre production didn’t matter anymore, anyway.

« How so? »

« A prince always has his ways. There are infinite possibilities! Think about it, I know where everyone is all the time, I would know where to keep you. My parents don’t even remember the servants’ faces. »

« Oh, to be a humble servant in love with the prince. » the bat mocked.

« In love? » Roman repeated, amusement in his expression. And a very invisible and sudden twist of his heart.

« For sure. »

Jokes on them.

« Well then, my humble servant. » the prince got up and moved the cup of tea he definitely didn’t forget on the counter and walked towards the door of the room. « We have a big day ahead so I’m going to rest. You should try to get some sleep too since you won’t tomorrow. »

« How many times do I have to say bats aren’t strictly a nightly species? »

« One more, please. »

When their laughter was done, Roman lingered on the entrance.

« Thank you for opening up to me. And … please consider what I told you, okay? »

« I will. » the man answered warmly.

With that, they were both left to their sleepless night, daydreaming about possibilities they hoped could come real.

But the marquis had already made up his mind.

✾✾✾

His blood ran cold as he felt the tip of a sword being pointed to his back. Well, fucking shit.

« Hello there, is the shop open? » Remus knew exactly whose voice that was despite the fact that he had never heard it once in his entire life.

When he turned, he was met with none else but the prince’s figure standing tall behind him, while a tiny bat sat attentive on his shoulder. Of course.

Remus got up, his hood still covering the majority of his face.

« To what do I owe the pleasure? »

« No playing around. » Roman demanded, serious in his tone and eyes. He stared at Remus as he moved, sword raising with every movement. « Change my friend back this instant. »

Oh, marvelous. They were friends now, how could he have not taken that into account?

« Sorry, business is closed at the moment. » he retorted, spitting his words out. The sword flew to his chin in an instant.

« Are you sure about that? » venom, nothing but venom, more than the marquis had ever felt in his own body.

Remus sighed and eventually lowered his hood, revealing his identity once and for all. « You sure do know how to have fun, my dearest brother. »

And Roman almost dropped his weapon on the ground.

He had called him what now?

The prince went quickly over the facial features of the man in front of his eyes, it felt like looking at his own mirror, minus the facial hair and the white streak.

Or the dark circles around his eyes and the pale almost ill-looking skin.

Maybe it felt actually like looking at a mirror that showed an alternate life in which all he had found was misery. And he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by a sense of pity.

« We’re- You- I’m sorry. I apologize. I’m … I’m confused. »

Remus arched an eyebrow. « Confused? What’s there to explain? »

« How in the world I have never known I had a twin brother, for instance. » Roman placed the bat on a stable surface next to him, afraid he would have made him fall as his entire body seemed to be trembling with an overflow of emotions.

What was happening?

« Never known? » the former duke opened his arms. « Hadn’t you refrained from acknowledging me this whole time? »

« What? » the prince’s mind was racing. « I’d never do that! I don’t even know your name! » tears welled up in his eyes from frustration. He had to keep it together, gosh why was it so difficult?

« Okay, okay. Hold on a second. »

« The bat talks? »

« I know. Mages. »

« Both of you, sit down. » the marquis demanded, seriousness fading as, sadly, his size didn’t help in making him believable enough.

The two brothers complied anyway.

« Now, you may take turns in speaking. »

« Yeah, what the hell happened? Mom and dad never gave you the evil twin speech? »

Roman shrugged in confusion. « I guess not. I promise to you, I was grown to believe to be an only child. They never told me about you … I guess that’s the reason why they never wanted me to come here alone in the first place. Have you always been here? »

« Since I can recall. » Remus nodded, his mind traveling as far back as it could. « This wasn’t a town at first. It was my dukedom. But our beloved parents destroyed it before I could even reach the age of ruling. I lived here with some servants, but they left as soon as they declared negated all the titles in this land. I was locked out of the manor and I tried to survive on my own from there. » the rage in his brother’s chest filled the gap in his childhood that could have been taken by his time with Remus.

« Every time you came here, I was locked inside my shop for days. As you can see, I got bored and studied whatever magical stuff was in there and this is where I ended up. » he pointed to the bat who was staring at them.

« This is insane! » Roman talked still in disbelief.

« You can say our parents may be two pieces of shit. »

« Doing this only to protect their image? » the prince seemed to be talking to himself, until he turned to his brother again. « I’m sorry on their behalf. I literally have no words to describe how awful I feel. » he rested his face in his hands and sighed deeply. What was there to say? It’s not like he could have done much else with no knowledge of his existence.

Then, an idea.

« We’re going to get your manor back. »

« Huh? »

« And the dukedom. I’ll make sure to restore your titles. Unless you don’t want to come back as a prince, as it should be your right. »

Remus considered the possibilities, he did want to get at least his early decent life back, but … the idea of his parents in front of his eyes and constantly around him didn’t sit right with him.

« I’ll … think about it? » his gaze stopped on the bat. « What about him? »

« Believe me, if you turn me back right now I can leave the entire town to your own needs. »

He chuckled. Ah, the sweet sound of desperation.

Remus focused just that itty bit he needed, before muttering a spell under his breath and sending a green flicker to hit the animal’s body.

And that was it.

As if nothing had ever happened, there the actual marquis stood, in flesh and bones, as alive as his condition permitted him to be, leaning against whatever he was previously standing on as a bat.

The scars were still splitting his blind eye and cheek in a half.

As the man checked his body for anomalies, Remus didn’t definitely miss how his brother held his breath involuntarily. He side glanced both of them, as the eyes of the two met holding the gaze for a few seconds.

Yeah. It seemed kind of obvious.

« This is all? »

He nodded.

Roman stood up in a rush, as if he had just remembered how to move his limbs, and launched himself at the now anthropomorphic figure of the marquis.

« Gosh, finally, we made it! »

Though, the other’s enthusiasm wasn’t exactly as strong.

« You can’t do anything for the scars? » he looked over to Remus, who didn’t even have the time to reply as Roman, well, he didn’t really think he was going to let him go down that way.

« I think he shouldn’t. » he offered the hint of a smile. « You look absolutely fine with them. »

« For the love of the greatest Sorcerer, if you need to get it on please stay away from my manor. »

Roman really really wished he still had the sword in his grip in that exact moment.

Gay panic ensued, together with very flustered people and a soon to be again duke leading the way back to the town centre. Before they could reach the manor, Remus stopped, his shop nearby.

« I’ll think about your offer. » he informed Roman. « In the meantime, I think I’ll have some packing to do. » he pointed to his left, revealing the door of his shop right next to him.

His brother nodded and saluted him with a movement of his hand and a subtle smile. When he turned, Remus grabbed the marquis’s shoulder.

« Listen, I see how you look at each other. »

The man arched an eyebrow. « And? »

« Just. Don’t do anything stupid. »

« Nothing you would do, then? »

« Precisely. »

The marquis laughed quietly. « I’ll do my best. »

Remus honestly didn’t know what to expect from that.

✾✾✾

« Hey. »

So close.

His hand lingered on the gates’ bars. He turned and was met with a figure standing beside him, arms crossed and a dull expression adorned by hurt eyes.

« Going for a walk? » Roman’s tone was everything he didn’t want to hear.

The man sighed. Doing this the hard and painful way hadn’t been his intention. Yet, he knew he had to break Remus’s promise as soon as he had made it.

« Roman- »

« You could have just told me. »

He took a minimal step back. « What? »

« That you weren’t even planning on staying. » Roman was looking him in the eyes and it felt like keeping your gaze close to the fire. « You didn’t need to lead me on until now only to leave me like this. »

« It’s not that. » he intruded, speaking softly.

« Say it. » the prince sounded exasperated. « Just say it already. At least I can convince myself it isn’t my fault. »

« It’s not. » was there someone at fault? The marquis pressed his fingertips on the inner corner of his eyes. He didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to. « I can’t stay. »

« Why? »

« Because I’m constantly running away! » his hands flew away from his face. « I can’t stay anywhere long enough because I’m just wrong in comparison to everyone else. I’m different and I have to escape before anyone could pick up on that. »

Roman still stared at him; they had gone through that already once, why was it so difficult for him to stay just because he was a vampire? Why couldn’t he come with him?

« This life sucks and I couldn’t ask you to endure it. You wouldn’t be able to. »

« Who says that? »

« I do! I’ve been doing this for years and even I can’t handle it. » his hand was clutched to his chest in a fist. He didn’t want to, « I kill everything around me. » but the tears had already started running even without his permission.

Roman stepped forward as his expression shifted slowly to sympathy. No. The man’s mind raced. No, no, no.

He took a step back. « I come here and I discover I have golden blood, » Roman stopped a few feet away. « I get to know I belong to the royal chaste of vampires, as if a regular one wasn’t bad as it is. » his breathing turned heavier. « And because of that, everything inside my body is poisonous. Others can track me down easily and we aren’t exactly the friendliest species. You’d be in danger. »

If the prince had come forward again, he hadn’t noticed.

« I am constantly running away and a constant risk to the ones around me. » Roman was raising his hand and he gently shoved it away, fearing the worst.

« This isn’t a fairytale, Roman. It’s a horror story and it ends badly either for the protagonist or the monster. Are you even listening? »

« Are you? » Roman’s hand hovered over his arm, waiting to move further. « You’re asking me not to follow you when I’m already attached to you by a chain? » he ducked his head to make the other look at him directly in his dark eyes.

« You want me to stay still when I’m inches away from being able to console you with a sole touch? » the prince could see the veiled freight in the man’s eyes as he raised his hand again, a moment away from his cheek wet by tears.

One.

An instant.

His fingers were already caressing his cheek as new tears soaked it while the poison stuck to his skin.

And it was over.

« You’re telling me- »

« Roman, what did you do? »

« You’re telling me, » both of Roman’s hands were on his cheeks, thumbs brushing away his crying. « That I wouldn’t be able to kiss you, when there isn’t a single thing in the world I want to do more? »

The man’s heart almost completely stopped in his chest, melting as Roman’s lips moved to form ulterior sweet words he didn’t feel he deserved. He had his back pressed on the gates the same way an overwhelming feeling weighed down his stomach.

He was dying. Roman was dying and there was only one thing to do.

Killing him even faster, but only just.

His lips were the weapon, his teeth were the bullets and the poison was the god of Death. As he kissed the prince, pulling him close, the thought of that blatant murder allowed contrasting feelings.

He saved him by signing his death certificate, he could have stopped and yet he didn’t.

What was desire? An abstract concept inherent in human race. As you satisfy a wish, a new one makes way into your mind.

There was no actual satisfaction, but a constant yearning for more than what you already own.

They knew, because their lips weren’t able to break apart if not for a few seconds, before diving in again into something they knew they couldn’t fill.

Yet, nature envied them. The flowers desired to stand tall, plants wanted to show their vivid colours, the rivers wished they could shine limpidly even under the moonbeam.

But they had to wait, left unfulfilled and in permanent disquiet until they got what they wanted.

The lovers, though. They were unstoppable and invincible for as long as their hands touched and their hearts were connected.

Finally, Roman smiled. His arms lowered on the marquis’ shoulders and he chuckled.

« It appears I am bound to you, now. »

« You’re the stupidest person I’ve met. » the man gripped at his clothes and pulled him in for another quick kiss. « You’re stupid. I can’t believe you’re such an idiot and a prince at the same time. »

« I’m thinking about retiring. »

« Oh my stars, he’s gone. »

« Think about it! I could send Remus rule in my place, let our parents deal with what they’ve left behind. » Roman heard him snort with laughter. « What? It’s a perfect plan. »

« Yeah, right. » the man searched his eyes. « What about you? »

« We can run away together. You won’t be alone to fight off the ones that want to take you down. »

« This isn’t going to be easy. You’ll turn any moment now and you’ll need time to adjust to your new condition. » Roman nodded at that. « We’ll have to stay out of sight for a while, can you do that? »

« I can. » Roman’s determination made him want to take on the world with his bare hands.

Then, something in Roman’s eyes shifted. « Also, am I going to pass out or are you actually extremely stunning right now? » the prince’s eyebrows narrowed, his vision blurry.

That was the red code.

« Let’s get you in before everybody sees you. »

« I love you. » the marquis almost tripped over himself. That man needed to stop.

« I do too, but please refrain from speaking until later. »

✾✾✾

« Please, take care, okay? Visit as soon as you can. » Patton hugged the two one last time, nostalgia already washing over him. Logan had just given his own goodbyes and was keeping a very unhappy Virgil still.

One week had passed since Roman’s turning, they had decided to leave as he looked stable enough.

« Are you sure you don’t want me to, I don’t know, hex the whole town or something so you can stay longer? » Remus offered as his brother stifled a laugh. That was low-key endearing. Odd, as not much time earlier he had despised him under false accusations.

They shared a hug, too. « We’re going to be fine. » Roman promised and handed him the princely stuff he wasn’t going to need anymore. « And as you would say … » his expression contorted deep in thought. « Fuck ‘em up? »

« What did you say? » Virgil interrupted, while his parents collectively sent death glares at Roman.

« Duck the cup. » the marquis offered, eyeing the brothers with a sharp look. « As a metaphorical good luck wish, I suppose. »

« Like when they crash bottles against ships? »

« Definitely. »

When their last conversation came to an end, the prince and the marquis started walking away.

Roman looked back to them, his pace slowing down. He locked eyes with Virgil.

« Now! »

Virgil broke free of his dad’s grip and sprinted forward to them, laughing like he had just told the funniest joke in existence. Roman scooped him up in his arms and started running while his lover stared at him in utter disbelief.

« Roman, what the hell! » Logan ran after him, causing the laughter to spread between all those present.

« You absolute mad man! »

It took twenty minutes for the real departure to happen. But at least, they were all smiling.

And, maybe, teary-eyed too. But they were not going to mention it until later some months, or even years, where they could all finally meet again and catch up with their incredible lives.

Until then, they would keep smiling.

✾✾✾

They had been traveling the whole day, the sun shone from behind the mountains in the distance, almost completely hidden, so that the light coloured in rosy tones.

It did feel like a fairy tale, in the long run.

Roman was already smiling to himself when a small giggle escaped his lips.

« What’s so funny? » his lover turned enough to both look at him and be aware of their path.

« You never told me your name. » the prince was looking ahead, quite amused.

« Were I to tell you, you’d never be able to fly among the constellations like you’ve always dreamt. » he remembered one of the many stories he had told him while still a bat.

« I believe I can risk that. »

« I wouldn’t want to bear the guilt of taking that away from you. » they stopped in their tracks and faced each other. « But there might be a way I can help with. »

With no warning, the marquis leaned in and pecked Roman’s lips, softly, so that he could have sensed that small spark in his chest before it transformed into a thunderous firework.

« Is that how you reach the stars? »

The man only smirked at Roman, going back to lead the way through the yellow field. Their road towards a new life was starting to clear.

And their kingdom shone for evermore.

[jeannereames]

Love & War

A persistent, annoying, misogynistic delusion says women, and especially Romance readers (female or male, but especially female), can’t handle things like hard science fiction, political intrigue, and, especially, military matters. Our pretty little heads are incapable of understanding that “serious stuff.” All we care about are love affairs and fashion.

Hoo-boy, don’t get me started or I might skewer somebody. (Image at the bottom of the author with a sarissa.)

Funny story about SF author Catherine Asaro: she’s known for her hard-SF Romances, but what a lot of readers don’t know is she’s also Dr. Catherine Asaro, with a PhD in chemical physics from no less a school than Harvard. Some years back, on a now-defunct bulletin board, a male reader proceeded to try to mansplain how Asaro’s physics of space travel just wouldn’t work, and poor lady authors who want to write romance shouldn’t attempt a SERIOUS genre such as hard SF. Well, Dr. Asaro dropped into the convo, citing several of her own published articles in peer-reviewed journals, then proceeded to demolish fan-boy’s ignorant objections to her theories. It was a beautiful thing to behold.

Women do math and science, dammit—as demonstrated by my Kleopatra in the novels.

I don’t believe for one minute that women readers, as much as men readers wouldn't like to know a little about the military matters I describe in Dancing with the Lion, not just the hair and clothes (as I do detail in another blog).

When non-specialist modern readers imagine ancient Mediterranean armies, it’s usually the Roman legion that comes to mind. The Greek phalanx is similar…but not. A phalanx is a big rectangular block of infantry, usually 8-deep, that presented a “locked shields” front. Larger armies were made up of several phalanges (phalanxes) in a row. Armies were chiefly infantry as horses don’t do well in the rocky Greek south. So their armies had a lot of light troops, such as slingers, but little horse. Yet Greek infantry was legendary. These “Men of Bronze” were sought-after mercenaries in Ancient Near Eastern armies, and would famously rout the Persians at the Battle of Marathon despite being outnumbered. Southern Greek cities also had excellent navies, although Macedonia didn’t, so I won’t address navies here.

The infantryman, or “hoplite,” was armed with a big-ass round, convex shield covering him from chin to knee; a bronze helmet; and—depending on how much money his family had—a bronze breastplate or a cuirass of fused, tough, glued linen with girdle plates (as below); and maybe bronze greaves covering his shins. From the front, this presented a pretty solid defense. But if, in video-games, Greek soldiers all look alike, in truth, Greek armor varied a lot. Helmet styles differed vastly by region, and how much armor a soldier could afford also differed. Shield devices were personal (as in the image above). Put simply: THERE WAS NO ANCIENT GREEK UNIFORM. Individuality mattered. (Hoplite arming, image shows how the shield was held inside.)

Why the differences among real soldiers? They armed themselves; city-states didn’t provide equipment. So what they brought to the field was whatever they could afford. Also, the primary weapon of the Greek infantryman was the SPEAR, not a sword. Swords were secondary, used only after your spear broke. While Greek armies did have archers along with slingers and peltasts (javelin-men), Greek infantry viewed the bow as a coward’s weapon.

When Philip took over as king of Macedon, the army got a serious overhaul. First, Macedonia—unlike the south—had horses. In fact, prior Macedonian armies had been CAVALRY armies, with limited infantry. Philip reformed the infantry by lightening their armor and giving them the ultimate “pig-poker”: a 15-foot sarissa, or pike. It was about twice as long as a normal Greek spear, requiring one to wield it two-handed.

Then he shaped up the cavalry, arming them more heavily and deploying them in triangular “spear point” formations, which allowed them to shift direction quickly at a gallop. They carried the xyston, which wasn’t as long as a sarissa, but still formidable. Incidentally, ancient cavalry used neither saddles nor stirrups, only a saddlecloth.

This Macedonian sarissa phalanx became the ANVIL, while his heavy cavalry became the HAMMER. The Macedonian phalanx would engage the enemy, holding them in place on the battlefield, then Philip would send in his much more mobile cavalry to smash into the enemy flank or rear, tearing them to shreds. It worked. Over and over, it worked. Alexander took that formation strategy to Asia. It worked there too.

So when I describe military matters in Dancing with the Lion, now readers have a better visual image. And don’t let anybody tell you female readers can’t enjoy reading battle scenes, or that female novelists can’t write them.

The hell we can!

After all, the ancient Greeks paired the goddess of love, Aphrodite, with the god of war, Ares. And in the Ancient Near East? Innana/Ishtar was goddess of both, together.

(The modern image above belongs to Ryan Jones, a Calgary graduate under Waldemar Heckel. The sarissa I'm holding below is part of the on-going research of Dr. Graham Wrightson, USD, who kindly let me handle it, as I also teach an undergraduate capstone class as well as a graduate seminar on Greek military history. )

[thelastdiadoch]

THE THRACIANS, SONS OF ARES

This is an excerpt from my post, ‘THRACIANS, REAPERS OF THE BALKANS’. This excerpt speaks of Thracian attire, weaponry, armors, and army composition.

The Thracians were thought to have derived their name from an ancestral deity named Thrax, who was either a son of Ares (Greek god of war) or another name for Ares himself. Ares was born in Thrace and was also seen as Thrace’s patron. Ares even had several children who were Thracian kings or founded Thracian tribes: Bithys (Bithyni), Odomas (Odomantians), Edonus (Edonians), Mygdon (Mygdonians), Biston (Bistones), and Sithon (Sithones).

“One of the names of Ares was Thrax, he being the Patron of Thrace. His golden or gilded shield was kept in his temple at Bistonia there. Like the other Thracian bucklers, it was of the shape of a half-moon (‘Pelta’). His 'festival of Mars Gradivus’ was kept annually by the Latins in the month of March, when this sort of shield was displayed.”.

Attire:

Early Thracian attire came in the form of embades (deerskin high-boots with flaps draping from the top) and knee-length sleeveless tunics with elaborate patterns. The most common colors of clothing worn by the Thracians were “white, off-white, cream, rose, light blue, light green and a variety of reds and red-browns”. The Thracians also wore their customary zeira (cloak) which provided some protection, acted as a windbreaker, and boasted elaborate patterns (some think their designs were inspired from contact with the Persians during their subjugation). When it comes to headgear the Thracians wore the alopekis (fox-skin scalps worn as hats, the ears draping down as cheek flaps, there was also a neck flap), the pileus (low conical caps with neck and cheek flaps), and the Phrygian cap (pointed high crowned caps with neck and cheek flaps, the point was soft and often bent forward).

“[3] There was deep snow on the plain, and it was so cold that the water which they carried in for dinner and the wine in the jars would freeze, and many of the Greeks had their noses and ears frost-bitten. [4] Then it became clear why the Thracians wear fox-skin caps on their heads and over their ears, and tunics not merely about their chests, but also round their thighs, and why, when on horseback, they wear long cloaks reaching to their feet instead of mantles.” – Anabasis by Xenophon, 7.4.3-4.

^ Thracian cloak designs (6th-4th century BCE). Osprey – Men-at-Arms series, issue 360 – The Thracians, 700 BC-AD 46 by Christopher Webber and Angus McBride (Illustrator). pg. 19.

While the attire of the Getae and Dacians in the north were influenced by the Scythian nomads, the Triballi were more so influenced by the neighboring Celts and Illyrians. The southern Thracians, like the Odrysians, were influenced by the Greeks and Macedonians. From the 4th century BCE onwards the southern Thracians gradually lost most of their most associated forms of attire, tattoos, beards and hairstyles to the point that they were almost indistinguishable from their Greek and Macedonian neighbors.

Helms:

The southern and central Thracians began to wear a mixture of Greek and Thracian armors, with the Greek ones altered to convey local Thracian styles. Even when certain helmet styles fell out of use and popularity in Greek and Hellenistic world, the Thracians continued to wear them nonetheless. One of the most common helmets found in southern and central Thrace were in the ‘Chalkidian’ style, also popular throughout Greece and southern Italy (Magna Graecia, “Great Greece”). After 350 BCE (during their Macedonian wars and inevitable subjugation by said Macedonians) the Thracians used new variants of the Chalkidian helmets which incorporated check-guards, some had fixed cheek-guards while others had them added on separately (hinged cheek-guards).

^ Bronze Chalkidian helmets, with and without iron cheek-guards.

The helmet which is most associated with the Thracians was the Thracian or Phrygian helmet which was a metal armored copy of the earlier mentioned Phrygian cap (pointed high crowned caps with neck and cheek flaps) that was so popular among the Thracians. Some of these Phrygian helmets even featured cheek-pieces which were decorated to resemble beards and mustaches. Despite its name, the “Thracian” or “Phrygian” helmet came from the Greeks and Macedonians who, under Philip II and his son Alexander the Great, spread its influence among the Thracians. The naming was given because of its similarities to the traditional headgear of the Thracians. Eventually the Phrygian helmet was used in Thrace, Dacia, Magna Graecia (southern Italy), Greece, Macedon and its descendant Hellenistic nations. The Thracians are said to have worn their hair in topknots and that these high-domed helmets allowed their hair to be worn in said fashion.

^ Thracian helmets.

Other helmets common among Thracian infantrymen were those of the Attic style (“bronze with pale-blue crests”) as well as a Thracian variant of a Greek helmet known as Thraco-Boeotian which featured a Thracian skull or crown and a Boeotian styled open brim.

^ Thraco-Boeotian helmet.

Body armor:

When it comes to body armors, these were usually reserved for the rich, the nobility, high ranking military commanders or the king’s guards. Initially armors were made of leather or bronze then later (4th century BCE onward) iron became the norm. One style of body armor worn was the ‘bell corselet’, given said name for its wide curved waist which gave the wearer a freer range of movement. These 25-40 lb. corselets were made up of two pieces nailed to one another at the shoulders, the breastplate and the backpiece. A third part was sometimes also added, this abdominal plate was a combination of two plates that covered the lower abdomen and groin (bell corselet from Rouets, Targovishte, Bulgaria).

^ ‘Bell corselet’ from Rouets, Targovishte, Bulgaria (450-400 BCE).

The bell corselet was often decorated with lines which gave the anatomical impression of muscles and the ends of these lines were fashioned to appear like flowers, fish tails or ketoi (Greek, “sea monsters”) similar to Chinese dragons. Silver and golden appliques (decorative ornaments) were also known to be used, these were in the form of common Greek motifs like the Nemean lion, Heracles (Hercules), gorgons (ex. Medusa), and Apollo. The bell corselet was imported into Thrace by the Greeks in the 6th century BCE and, when it fell out of favor among the Greeks, the Thracians continued to use them in the 5th and 4th century BCE.

After being freed from Persian rule by the Greeks, the bell corselet fell out of favor among the Thracians as it was replaced by the composite style iron armor. Being that the neck and collar of the wearer was exposed in these composite cuirasses, the Thracians and Macedonians began wearing a crescent shaped metal plate which covered said area. After the composite armor fell out of favor, muscled cuirasses became more common.

Felt or leather caps were worn inside helmets and leather armors with pteryges (skirt of leather strips) and iron scale belts are noted. Greaves were worn by Thracian cavalrymen, possibly just those of high rank, but from the 4th century BCE until the Battle of Pydna in 168 BCE it became more common with Thracian infantrymen. When the Romans subjugated the Thracians and employed them as auxiliaries we see a shift in Thracian attire and armaments toward Roman helmets, weapons, shields, military standards and mail shirts.

“Though the Thracians had often revolted before, their most serious rising had taken place now under King Rhoemetalcis. He had accustomed the barbarians to the use of military standards and discipline and even of Roman weapons. Thorough subdued by Piso, they showed their mad rage even in captivity; for they punished their own savagery by trying to bite through their fetters.” – Epitome of Roman History by Lucius Annaeus Florus, 2.27 (The Thracian War).

Shields:

The famed shield used by the Thracians was the pelte, a crescent shaped wood or wicker shield at times covered in hide or leather. It could have a handgrip on the inside’s center or one near the rim with a central arm strap. According to some sources “the Thracians took to flight, swinging their shields around behind them, as was their custom” (Anabasis by Xenophon, 7.4.17). The peltast military type was named after their pelte shields much like how the thureophoroi were named after their thureos (oblong or oval shields with a central boss and spine), the latter of which the Thracians and Illyrians may have adopted from the Celtic Gauls who were migrating into the Balkans. Of course these two unit names later applied to any infantry unit armed with a pelte or thureos (even if they were heavy infantrymen like hoplites) or even military units who performed in a similar nature.

^ Pelte. Osprey – Men-at-Arms series, issue 360 – The Thracians, 700 BC-AD 46 by Christopher Webber and Angus McBride (Illustrator), pg. 20.

Weaponry:

Of all bladed weapons used by the Illyrians and Thracians, none is more remembered than the ‘sica’. The sica was a single bladed sword that curved forward and had a sharp tip. The sica was known to be capable of dismembering or decapitating those struck. The Rhomphaia, like the Sica, had a long straight or slightly-curved blade but unique to the rhomphaia was the fact that the handle was nearly the same length as the blade. This length meant that the wielder had to grasp it with both hands but was able to dismember or decapitate their enemies and hamstring horses. A drawback being that the great length made it difficult to use in cramp and crowded areas.

^ Rhomphaia. Osprey – Men-at-Arms series, issue 360 – The Thracians, 700 BC-AD 46 by Christopher Webber and Angus McBride (Illustrator). pg. 39.

“[10] There were many forests in the neighborhood, a great hindrance to the Macedonian phalanx, which was of absolutely no use except where it could thrust, so to speak, a rampart in front of the shields with its very long spears, and for this purpose they needed open country. [11] The Thracians also were hindered by their rumpiae, of a similarly enormous length, among the branches which projected on all sides.” – The History of Rome by Titus Livius (Livy), 39.10-11.

The rich nobility would also use straight longswords, ones noted for being much longer than the average longsword. These may have inspired the Athenian general Iphicrates’ reforms where he armed his hoplites with longer swords and ‘pelte’ (Thracian shields). Another sword common among the Thracians was the Xiphos, a double-edged straight sword brought to Thrace by the Greeks and Macedonians. The ‘Machaira’ was a single-bladed sword while the similar ‘Kopis’ differed in the fact that it featured a curved sword, the latter was especially preferred by those on horseback. The kopis was rare in Thrace and may have been reserved for the rich or nobility.

^ Swords, knives and dagger. Osprey – Men-at-Arms series, issue 360 – The Thracians, 700 BC-AD 46 by Christopher Webber and Angus McBride (Illustrator), pg. 38.

The Thracian Army:

The Thracians were fishermen, farmers, herders, shepherds, merchants and blacksmiths as well but “those who learn trades are held in less esteem than the rest of the people, and those who have least to do with artisans’ work, especially men who are free to practice the art of war, are highly honored” (Herodotus 2.167) and “The idler is most honored, the tiller of the soil most scorned; he is held in highest honor who lives by war and robbery” (Herodotus, 5.6). The Thracians were generally more akin to large raiding parties rather than official organized armies. Thracian warriors in these armies had to supply themselves with their own weapons and armors so most went unarmored or lightly armored. They were not paid by their king or prince but lived off of booty acquired from pillaging and looting. Thracian leaders who led successful campaigns could see vast waves of Thracians eager in joining for the promise of riches.

“increased by the accession of many of the independent Thracian tribes followed him (Sitalces) of their own accord in hopes of plunder.” – The Peloponnesian War by Thucydides, 2.98.3.

^ Thracian peltasts fighting Greeks by Johnny Shumate.

As mercenaries, the Thracians were in high demand from the Peloponnesian War into the Hellenistic period and under Roman rule. Nevertheless, discounting the Odrysians, the Thracians had proven to be disloyal to their employers. Often, they would either abandon their employers or switch to the side that favored their interests, sometimes in the heat of battle. They would also take breaks from their main campaigns to lead raids on nearby towns or temples.

It is stated by many ancient writers that the Euxine Sea (modern Black Sea), which means “hospitable”, was called in earlier times the Axeinos Sea (Greek “inhospitable” or Scythian “unlit, dark”) for how treacherous it was due to Thracian pirates and bandits taking advantage of the fact that “many vessels sailing to the Pontus run aground and are wrecked; for there are shoals that extend far and wide” (Anabasis, 7.5.12). The Thracians inhabiting the coast of the Black Sea were said to “have boundary stones set up and each group of them plunder the ships that are wrecked within their own limits” (Anabasis, 7.5.13). The text then mentions that before they came up with this system the Thracians would slaughter their neighboring tribes over ownership of the spoils.

“Of these (boats) there was a great abundance, because the people who dwell near the Ister use them for fishing in the river, sometimes also for journeying to each other for traffic up the river; and most of them carry on piracy with’ them.” – The Anabasis of Alexander by Arrian of Nicomedia, Book III.

Cavalrymen:

Cavalry was a priority to the Thracian tribes of the plains, with the Odrysians and Getae (influenced by the Scythians) boasting the greater bulk of Thracian cavalry forces. Ancient writers like Homer (Iliad 13.1, 14.211) and Euripedes (Hecuba, 1089-90) refer to the Thracians chiefly as horsemen. At their peak, the Odrysians could field (under Sitalces) about 50,000 cavalrymen, one third of the entire army but under Hellenistic subjugation they were only able to field only 8,000 cavalrymen (28% of the entire army) against the Diadoch Lysimachus in 323 (the Thracians lost).

^ Osprey – Men-at-Arms series, issue 360 – The Thracians, 700 BC-AD 46 by Christopher Webber and Angus McBride (Illustrator). Plate G – The Kallinikos Skirmish 171 BCE. 1) King Cotys. 2) Thracian Bodyguard cavalryman. 3) Macedonian cavalryman.

On horseback, the Thracians would arm themselves with spears or curved swords (Greek kopis and sica), the latter of which is noted to have been used to dismember a Jewish rebel in 163 CE. They would also act as scouts or skirmisher cavalrymen armed with javelins and with their shield (pelte) hanging from their back presumably to protect them from enemy missile fire. Such a great impression was left by the Thracian cavalrymen on the Greeks that the latter were known to have taken on Thracian capes, boots and the famed ‘Thraco-Phrygian cap’ inspired helmets. As time progressed and contact with the Greeks became stronger the Thracian cavalrymen became more armored and adopted Greek armors. The Thracians also adopted the system of attaching light infantrymen to their cavalrymen, swordsmen who would hamstring enemy horses or skirmishers who would repel and harass the enemy. From the north the Scythians influenced their horsemanship and cavalry technology, primarily the saddle.

^ Armies of the Macedonian and Punic Wars, 359 BC to 146-BC by Duncan Head and Ian Heath (illustrator). 68 and 69 Thracian light cavalry, 71 Thracian Noble Heavy Cavalrymen, 72 North Thracian noble cavalrymen.

Thracian cavalrymen were also known to have deployed themselves in a wedge formation, a triangular array where the commander would position himself at the apex of a triangular formation with the intent of leading a charge that could pierce through the enemy lines then divide them from one another. The wedge formation also made maneuvering easier as all other horsemen simply followed the commander’s lead. Thessaly’s rhomboid formation and the Thraco-Scythian wedge formation became instrumental in the cavalry tactics of Philip II of Macedon and his son Alexander the Great. Thracian round bossed shields were later carried by the Diadoch Antigonid dynasty of Macedon’s Companion cavalrymen.

^ Wedge formation.

“Going downhill should first be taught on soft ground; and in the end, when the horse gets used to this, he will canter down more readily than uphill. If some fear that horses may put out their shoulders by being ridden downhill, they may take comfort when they understand that the Persians and Odrysians all ride races downhill, and yet keep their horses just as sound as the Greeks.” – On the Art of Horsemanship by Xenophon, 8.6.

Infantry:

The less fertile mountainous regions were home to Thracian herdsmen who were too poor to afford armor or other forms of weaponry so they relied on their slings which they normally used to ward off feral beasts stalking their herds. Archers were more popular among the northern Thracians and Geto-Dacians, being that most depictions of Thracian archers show royal hunting scenes it’s believed that most archers were nobles or royalty. The bows they were armed with were of the style of the Scythian recurved composite bows.

The most common and famed ranged infantrymen among the Thracians were their javelinmen. Their peltasts were javelinmen who were armed with the tradition Thracian shield (pelte) while the gymnitai (Greek, “bare, naked”) fought shieldless. Under the employment of their later Hellenistic overlords and employers we find that Thracian peltasts were used in various manners. The peltasts would be placed in the frontlines before the infantrymen where they would harass and cut down the enemy’s heavily armored Greek infantrymen before the inevitable clash. They would also be placed on their flanks to skirmish with enemy skirmishers which would later lead to them becoming more armored to combat enemy missiles. They would also support allied cavalrymen and infantrymen, sometimes mixing within the ranks of said units. These peltasts would carry two or more javelins of varying lengths (3.5-6.5 ft.), some weapons being tailored for hand-to-hand combat. It is possible, as there aren’t many clear separations between javelinmen and spearmen, that both were used in mixed groups with the spearmen in the groups guarding the javelinmen or that these peltasts acted as flexible mid-range and close-combat warriors.

^ Thracians. Greece and Rome at War (Paperback. Pg. 49) by Peter Connolly.

Thracian swordsmen were renowned for the dismembering and decapitating power of their curved weapons: the sica, the rhomphaia (two handed), and the machaira. Thracian spears and lances are said to have been longer (up to 12 ft. long) than Greek spears of the time, often being referred to as sarissas (pikes). In 339 BCE the famed king and general Philip II of Macedon, father or Alexander the Great, was attacked by a Triballian (Thracians) wielding a sarissa which killed Philip’s horse and lamed his thigh. There is a story concerning the death of King Arsaces of Media, this ruler and his horse were said to have both been impaled by a Thracian’s pike. “[Arsaces] had charged far in advance of his men, and the Thracian, standing his ground and sheltering himself with his buckler, warded off the lance, and then, planting his pike, transfixed man and horse together” (Dialogues Of Dead by Lucian, 27).

^ Armies of the Macedonian and Punic Wars, 359 BC to 146-BC by Duncan Head and Ian Heath (illustrator). 65 and 66 Thracian infantry, 67 Thracian archer.

Savagery: massacres, sacrifices and beheadings.

The Athenian statesman, orator, lolographer (legal speechwriter) and lawyer named Demosthenes described a trail ‘Ariston Against Conon’. In it there is mention of the defendant’s (Conon) sons being involved in clubs of lawless youths named the Ithyphalli (“straight/erect penises”, possible Dionysian worshipers since an object of similar name was carried in Dionysian/Bacchic festivals) and the Autolecythi (a person who carries their own lekythos (oil-flask) instead of their slave, therefore implying that he would be committing licentious acts without a witness). Conon himself was also part of a lawless club in his youth called the Triballi, named after the infamous Thracians who had not so long ago attacked the rich Greek city of Abdera on the southern coast of Thrace in 376 BCE.

Like stated above, the Thracians were also known to be involved in banditry, raiding and piracy. The Thracian Dii massacred the inhabitants (including children) of the Boeotian city of Mycalessus in 413 BCE and pillaged their temples. The Thracians were known to perform human sacrifices. The Thracian Apsinthians and the Thracians who lived along the Black Sea coast sacrificed captives. According to Aristotle the Triballi took honor in sacrificing their fathers. According to the Roman historian Lucius Annaeus Florus (c.74 CE– c.130 CE) that the Thracians drank out of human skulls, and tortured captives by “fire and sword” (some also add fumigation). Florus also adds that “they even forced infants from their mothers’ wombs by torture”.

As I mentioned earlier, the Thracians were also known for taking delight in beheading victims and parading them around like trophies. Titus Livius (Livy) in his History of Rome writes that after the Battle of Kallinikos over the Romans “the victors returned to their camp, all were full of joy, but the insolent transports of the Thracians were particularly remarkable; for on their way back they chanted songs, and carried the heads of the enemy fixed on spears” (Livy, 42.60).

Beheading is also popularly seen in myths pertaining to Thrace like the earlier mentioned Athenian princess Philomela who avenges her sister by beheading the latter’s Thracian husband’s son then tricking the Thracian king into consuming him. Another myth relates to the famed poet and musician named Orpheus who was killed by followers of Dionysus who tore him apart and beheaded him, his head however continued singing and his lyre continued to play.

^ Thracians at Pydna by Johnny Shumate.

Head over to my post, ‘THRACIANS, REAPERS OF THE BALKANS’, to learn about their culture, religion, weaponry, armors, battle tactics, and their influence on the ancient world. Their history as well, from the tales in the Iliad to the era of the Greco-Persian Wars, the rise of Macedon under Philip II and his son Alexander the Great, and the Roman conquests of the Balkans.

[the-met-art]

Bronze handle of a situla (pail) with Silenos head attachment and lion head mouthpiece, Greek and Roman Art

Medium: Bronze

Rogers Fund, 1916 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY

http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/249156

[petermorwood]

The dangers of doorknockers...

Here’s one of the Chris Riddell illustrations from a recent reblog of Neil Gaiman’s poem “Instructions” (or, what to do if you find yourself in a Fairy Tale).

victoriansword said: 

“Imp door knockers are/were a thing, which strangely makes me like this even more. Maybe because it adds a sense of wonder to otherwise common Victorian/Edwardian door knockers. Next time I see one on a door I’ll be careful!”

Knockers in the shape of the Lincoln Imp were, and may still be, very popular - one of my aunts had a brass one on her door, a souvenir of a visit to the Cathedral...

...and there are numerous demon-, dragon-, bull and lion-heads with the knocker-ring clenched between their teeth or through their nose.

That said, this bull may be just a handle - the ring’s shiny from being touched (like the snouts of the bronze boar and carp outside the Huntin’-an’-Fishin’ Museum in Munich, or indeed Molly Malone’s burnished bronze bosom in Dublin) but there’s no matching bright spot on the door to show where knocking happens - unless it’s out of view behind the ring.

These are Ancient Roman, and may also be handles not knockers...

...since a doorknocker often has a striking-plate on the door, or a reinforced section at the bottom of the ring, and sometimes both, while a handle has neither.

Therefore this next one is definitely a knocker, confirmed by being attached to a door and a pretty famous one at that - No 10 Downing Street, home of Larry the Cat and his predecessors in the post of Chief Mouser to the Cabinet Office, as well as numerous rats, mice, shrews and an occasional mole...

However there are plenty of images of actual knockers without reinforced rings or striking-plates that just thump against the surface of the door. The only sure way to tell if it’s just a handle is if the ring can’t actually make contact...

There are numerous ways of being careful around door-knockers: for one, there’s the business of not being rude to visitors. In Thackeray’s “The Rose and the Ring”, the doorman Gruffanuff refuses to announce the arrival of Fairy Blackstick (a tetchy fairy godmother) and behaves like this instead...

...whereupon she puts him in a position where he’ll announce everyone whether he feels like it or not...

There’s the business of not getting nipped by nasty little teeth as "Instructions” warns. I photographed this one in Chur, Switzerland, and even getting your palm licked by that brass tongue would be an unsettling experience...

...while here be dragons, who might also bite, or might breathe a tiny but troubling jet of flame up your sleeve. They’re from Pownall Hall, England....

...Powis Castle, Wales...

...and Orava Castle, Slovakia.

However this doorknocker was the one that would worry me more that the others if encountered in a fairy-tale or fantasy novel...

...because it instantly reminded me of this door-handle...

...and I’ve read (and written) enough in the genre to know that this is a set-up needing treated with great caution.

Make the wrong number of raps with that knocker, or be the wrong sort of character, and the apple might coming flying like a bullet.

Alternately, if a Wicked Person grips the matching handle their own hand might be crushed to a pulp and even a Good Person might be unable to let go and run away. That - according to The Theory of Narrative Causality™ - should happen humorously just as it starts to rain, snow or be otherwise unpleasant...

Or enough-seconds-for-drama before The Resident comes to answer their door, which interval should be just long enough for Surprising to become Scary, after which the raspy breathing and ponderous footsteps approaching down the hall make it clear The Resident is someone (or some thing) the visitor would really, really rather not meet.

But they’re going to...

[nemesisbinxartifactseries]

Artifact Series M

M.C. Escher's Pen

M.C. Escher's Mirror Ball

MC Hammer's Parachute Pants

M.E. Clifton James's Fake Military Uniform

M.K. "Mahatma" Ghandi's Dhoti *

M.K. "Mahatma" Ghandi's Glasses *

M.K. "Mahatma" Ghandi's Sandals *

M.K. "Mahatma" Ghandi's Spinning Wheel *

M.R. James' Glasses

Ma Jun’s South Pointing Chariot

Mabel Stark's Tiger Hoop

The Maccabee's Menorah

Macbeth's Sword

Mace from the House of Commons

MacGyver's Swiss Army Knife

Madame Alexe Popova's Tea Set

Madame Bobin's Coffin

Madeleine L'Engle's Brooch

Madman Muntz’s Stereo-Pak

Madness-Inducing Chair *

Madrigal Sword Cane

Maeda Toshiie’s Yari

Mae West's Cocktail Glasses

Magdelaine Laframboise's Foxskin Shawl

Magician's Cotton Sheets

Magician's Cufflinks

The Magna Carta

Magnetic Lion Head Ring

Magnifying Glass

Magnus Ver Magnusson's Belt

Maitreya's Purse

Majidae Mic

Makoto Hagiwara's Fortune Cookie

Malachite Ring

Malcolm Forbes Odometer

Malik Nettles' Gun

The Maltese Falcon *

Manco Cápac's Storytelling Cuff Bracelet

Man-Eating Trees

Mansa Musa's Gold Bars

Mama Cass' Ham Sandwich

Manco Cápac's Staff

Man Ray's Camera *

Mandala Tapestry

Mangal Pandey’s Bullet Cartridges

Mao Gong Ding

Maori Warrior Masks

Marble Block from The Papal States

Marble Inscription from Mauslous' Tomb

Marcel Duchamp's "Fountain"

Marcel Marceau's White Gloves

Marcel Proust's Tea Tin

Marcel Vogel's Crystal

Marc Isambard Brunel's Quadrant

Marco Polo's Compass

Marco Polo's Chopsticks

Marcus Aurelius' Sword *

Marcus Tullius Cicero's Ladle

Margaret Cavendish's Inkwell

Margaret D Craighill's Bandages

Margaret Keane’s Sketchbook

Margaret Sanger's Nursing Bag

Margaret Devaney’s Pocketknife

Margaret Hamilton's Broomstick

Margaret Hughes' Stage Dress

Margaret Q. Adams’ Badge

Margaret Mitchell’s Manila Envelopes

Margaret Sanger's Nursing Bag

Margaret Waters’ High Chair

Margarete Steiff's Bear

Maria Montesori's Gloves

Marian Anderson's Hair Pins

Marian Rejewski's Cards

Maria Sibylla Merian's Painting Set

Maria von Trapp's Devotional Scapular

Marie-Angélique Memmie Le Blanc's Bracelet

Marie Antoinette’s Cake Server

Marie Antoinette's Guillotine Blade *

Marie Antoinette’s Hand Mirror

The Marie Celeste *

Marie Curie's Research Papers

Marie Curie's Silver Pendant

Marie Guichon's Red Hood

Marie-Jean-Leon Lucoq's Memento Mori

Marie Laveau's Crucifix *

Marie Laveau's Voodoo Doll *

Marie Rose Ferron’s Nightstand

Marie Tussaud's Wax

Marilyn Monroe's Hairbrush

Marilyn Monroe's White Dress

Marilyn vos Savant's Pen

Marina Raskova’s Polikarpov Po-2

Marion Davis' Scarf

Mark Allen Hicks' Nunchucks

Mark Antokolsky's Mephistopheles

Mark Antony's Roman Aquila

Mark Fischbach's Moustache

Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Mark Twain’s Fountain Pen

Markus Hess’ Oscilloscope

Marquis de Sade's Pillow

Mars' Ancile Buckler Shield

Mars' Axe

Marshall Fields' Chevrolet Impala

Marshall Ratliff's Santa Claus Suit

Marsyas' Aulos

Martha Clarke’s Kaleidoscope

Martha Graham's Ballet Shoes

Martin A. Couney’s Baby Incubator

Martin Fullam's Jacket

Martin Kaylor’s Wallpaper

Martin Laurello's Shirt

Martin Luther King Jr.'s Bible

Martin Luther King Jr.'s Handcuffs

Martin Luther King Jr.'s Shoes

Martin Luther's Cross

Martin Luther's Nails

Martin Waldseemüller’s Construction Gores

Martino da Como's Crock Pot

Marty Cooper's Cellphone

Martyrs of Gorkum Wooden Barn Beam

Maruyama Ōkyo's Paintbrush

Marvin "Marvelous" Hagler's Boxing Gloves

Marvin Heemeyer's Welding Helmet

Marvin Hewitt’s Credentials

Marvin "Marvelous" Hagler's Boxing Gloves

Marvin Middlemark's Rabbit-Ears *

Mary I of England's Dress

Mary I of England's Pearl Pendant

Mary I of England's Tea Cup

Mary Amdur’s Guinea Pig Wheel

Mary Ann Cotton's Apron

Mary Babnik Brown's Hairs

Mary Baker Eddy’s Bible

Mary Baker's Necklace

Mary Bateman’s Eggs

Mary Delany's Embroidery Samples

Mary of Jesus of Agreda's Casket

Mary of Jesus of Ágreda's Rosary Necklace

Mary Magdalene's Cross Pendent

Mary Mallon's Cleaver *

Mary McLeod Bethune's Cane

Mary Poppin's Traveling Bag *

Mary, Queen of Scott's Croquet Mallet *

Mary Shelley's Box Desk

Mary Shelley's Glasses

Mary Shelly's Weathervane

Mary Somerville's Book

Mary Todd Lincoln's Gloves

Mary Wortley Montagu's Floristy Gloves

Mary Worth's Mirror

Marybeth Tinning's Childhood Doll (canon )

The Masakichi Statue

Masao Asano's Racing Car '42'

Masco Brand Pocket Knife

The Mask

Masked Marauders Vinyl Record

Mask of Anubis

Master Sword & Hylian Shield

Mata Hari's Stockings *

Mathias Zdarsky’s Ski Bindings

Matroshka Experiments Mannequin

Matt Smith's Bowtie

Mattel Blue Race Car Toy

Matthew Brady's Shoes *

Matthew C. Perry's Box

Matthew Henson’s Inuit Bird Carving

Matthew Walker's Rigging Rope

Matteo Bandello's Cross

Maui's Fishhook

Maurice Andre's Trumpet

Maurice Chevalier’s Boater Hat

Maurice de Sully's Three Gargoyle Statues

Maurice Koechlin's Original Eiffel Tower Model

Maurice Tillet's Trunks

Maurice Vermersch's Waffle Iron *

Maurice Ward’s Extruder

Mauro Dolce's Seismoloy Chart

Max Baer's Shorts *

Max Keith's Test Bottle of Fanta

Max Lüscher’s Color Cards

Max Manus' Stapler

Max Page's Helmet

Max Schreck's Fake Teeth

Max Sievert's Brass Blow Torch

Max Wertgeimer's Zoetrope *

Max Yasgur's Glasses

Maximilian Grabner's Jacks *

Maxwell Sharpen's Atrocity-Denying Armchair

Maxwell's Silver Hammer

Maya Angelou's Bell

Maya Angelou's Church Hat

Mayan Calendar *

Mayan Divine King's Mask

Mayan Sacrificial Knife

McGuffey's Eclectic Readers

The McNamara Brother's Suitcase

Mean Coach Whistle

Meat-Shaped Stone

Mehmed III's Silken Cord *

Mel Blanc's Pitch Pipe

Mel Brooks’ Hat

Mel Fisher's Diving Mask

Mel Water's Shovel

Melchisédech Thévenot’s Spirit Level

Melvil Dewey's Filing Cabinet

Melvin Dummar's Will

Memorial Fresco of Hanno the Elephant

Memory-Living Victim Shoes

Memory Replacement Pendulum

Menes' Crocodile Scale

Mercy Brown’s Shawl

Merit Badge Sashes from Boy and Girl Scouts of America

Meriwether Lewis’ Bear Trap *

Merry Man Dagger

Meshach Browning’s Turkey Quill

Mesopotamian Bronze Stele *

Metacomet's War Bonnet

Metal Bending Blacksmith Gloves

Metal Ram's Head Drawer Handle

Metal Rooster Statue

Metal Whistling Top

Merle Evans' Cornet

Methuselah's Shawl

Meyer Lansky's Desk Fan *

Mi Fu's Bamboo Scrolls

"Miami Zombie" Rudy Eugene's Bible

Michael Bay's Leather Jacket

Michael Crichton's Rough Draft of Jurassic Park

Michael Durant's Dogtags

Michael Ende's Volume

Michael Fagan's T-Shirt

Michael Faraday's Balloons

Michael Faraday's Horseshoe Magnets

Michael Faraday's Magnetic Stones

Michael Jackson's Glove

Michael Jackson's Red and Black Jacket

Micheal Keaton's "Beetlejuice" Makeup

Michael Larson's Watch

Michael Malloy's Scarf

Michael Meyer's Kitchen Knife

Michael Servetus' Parchment

Michael P. Murphy's Tactical Radio

Michelangelo's Brushes

Michelangelo's Poems

Michel de Montaigne's Desk

Michel de Montaigne's Original Copy of Essays

Michel Lotito's Mineral Oil

Michiel de Ruyter's Crest

Michigan Highway 185 Highway Shield

Michonne's Katana

Mictlantecuhtli Statue

Midori Naka's Kimono

Miguel de Cervantes' Windmill *

Mika Jenkin's Sword and Scabbard

Mike Fink's Rifle

Mike Powell's Track Shoes

Mike Rowe's Ballcap

Mikhail Britnev's Journal

Mikimoto Kōkichi’s Pearls

Miles Davis' First Trumpet *

Milk Drinking Hindu Statues

Minamoto no Yoritomo's Katana

Mind-Refracting Chandalier*

Minecraft Creeper Wind-Up Toy

Minerva's Helm

Ming Vase

Miniature Smith Alarm Clock *

Mining Cart From the Benxihu Colliery Accident

Minnie Pearl's Hat

Minoan Trident *

Minoru Yamasaki's Model of the World Trade Center

Mircale on 34th Street Santa Hat

Mirin Dajo's Rib Bone

Mirra Alfassa's Prayer Rug

Mirror from Kitson *

Mirrors from the Luxor Hotel

Mirza Ghulam Ahmad's Topi Taqiyah and Charpai

Mischa Barton's Handgun

Mischievous Salt Shaker

Miss Belvedere

Miss Chantilly's Fancy Dancing Pump

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children Series

Missile from the Zone of Silence

Mitch Hedberg's Glasses

Mithridates VI of Pontus' Cup

Miyamoto Musashi’s Bokken

Miyata Unicycle

Mizzenmast from the Hanging of John the Painter

Moctezuma's Headdress

Model 1890

Moe Howard's Necktie

Mohamed Bouazizi's Gas Can

Mohammad Sidique Khan's Prayer Rug

Molly Williams' Apron

Molotovs from Stalingrad

Momotarō's Peach Pit

Mona Lisa's Wooden Teeth *

Monarch Butterfly Clip

Mongol General's Shortbows

Mongol Paiza

"Monkey" Typewriter

Monopoly Board from the Great Train Robbery

Monte Saldo's Wristband

Montesquieu’s Folding Screen

Montgolfier Brothers' Sackcloth

Mont Saint-Michel Abbey Bell

"Morans" Protest Sign

Mordecai Kaplan's Torah

Morgan Earp's Billiards Cue

Morgan Spurlock's Belt

Moriz Gottschalk's Fairy-Castle Dollhouse *

Morphers

Morphing Cube

Moses' Staff

Mother Jones' Purse

Mother Shipton's Tarot Cards *

Mother Teresa's Rosary

Mound Builder Hoe

Mouse-sized Skateboard

Movie Projector from the Berlin Wintergarten Theatre

Moysan of Blois' Miniature Skull Clock *

Mr. Bean's Teddy Bear

Mr. Creosote's Tie

Mr. Freeze's Freeze Gun

Mr. Mental and Coco's Fezzes *

Mrs. Pac-Man's Bow

Msiri’s Katanga Crosses

MTV VCR

Muhammad Ali's Boxing Gloves *

Muhammad's Ghutrah

Muhammad al-Idrisi's "The Tabula Rogeriana"

Muhammad ibn Zakariya al-Razi’s Bimaristan

Muhammad ibn Zakariya al-Razi's Mortar & Pestle

Mummification Linen

Murderous Car Headlights

The Murder Weapons from Grigori Rasputin's Assassination

Murray Ball's Electric Fence

Murray Becker's Camera

Musician's Fiddle

Mus�� Soseki's Bamboo Brush Cup

Mutsuhiro Watanabe's Sword

MV Joyita

Myrrha's Noose

Myron of Eleutherae's Bronze Discobolus Discus

Myrtle's Plantation Mirror

Myrtles Plantation's Noose

[blueiscoool]

Discoveries in Pompeii Reveal Lives of Lower and Middle Classes

The latest discoveries in the excavation of Pompeii’s Regio V neighborhood are fully furnished utility spaces, of great archaeological significance for the details they preserve of a common domestic context in the 1st century Roman town.

The room was found in the House of the Enchanted Garden, a beautifully frescoed home with a lararium (a shrine to the household gods) that is one of the largest ever discovered in Pompeii. In 2021, archaeologists undertook an excavation and restoration of rooms on the ground floor in front of the lararium and the stories above it. They uncovered four rooms, two on the ground floor and two above, that were furnished. One was unfinished, with unplastered walls and an earthen floor, a jarring contrast in a house so decorated with such fine frescoes. The unfinished room was used for storage.

Archaeologists were able to make casts of the furnishings in the room which left a cavity in the hardened ash that could be filled with plaster. One room contained a bed frame and a pillow. The texture of the fabric was imprinted in the ash and is visible on the plaster cast. It is a very simple cot with ropes strung across the sides. There isn’t even a mattress, let along any decoration. Next to the bed was a wooden trunk divided into two compartments. The lid was open, but broken when the beams and floorboards of the story above collapsed in the eruption. Inside the trunk, archaeologists found a terra sigillata saucer and a double-spouted oil lamp depicting Zeus in the act of transforming into an eagle. Next to the trunk was a circular three-legged table with a shallow ceramic bowl containing two small glass bottles, a blue glass saucer and a terra sigillata bowl.

In the storage room, archaeologists were able to make two casts: a shelf and a group of wooden planks in different sizes, cuts and finishes, tied together. This was probably a collection of raw materials for assorted home maintenance projects from furniture patching to roof repair. Outside the room in a small hallway another utilitarian treasure was found: a tall wooden cabinet with at least four doors and five internal shelves. The top of the wardrobe and the front doors were damaged when the floor above the room collapsed. The remains of jugs, amphorae, bowls and plates were found on the damaged top shelf.

The excavation of the upper rooms revealed materials that were in the process of collapsing onto the rooms below. Of enormous archaeological value is a unique group of wax writing tablets. The group consists of seven triptychs tied both vertically and horizontally by a cord. A large cupboard, collapsed in the eruption, was also excavated. It contained different types of common use ceramics for kitchen and dining, as well as fine terra sigillata ceramics and glass. There was also a set of small bronze vessels, including a basin with palm leaf-shaped handles and a small jug decorated with a sphinx and lion’s head. Another special treasure is an incense burner shaped like a cradle with a male figure at one end. The polychrome paint coloring the figure and decorating the cradle with geometric designs is perfectly preserved.

The excavation overlapped onto a residential property behind the House of the Enchanted Garden, and there the plaster cast technique revealed the imprint of cane lathing in the mortar of a collapsed false ceiling. The cast shows the guts of Pompeiian construction: bundles of caning tied together by a thin cord and covered by a gauze-like fabric to separate the lathing from the wet mortar. Casts were also obtained of what appears to be wood paneling on the north, east and south walls of the room. Some are carved with coffered decoration; others are inlaid with delicate bone elements.

[the-met-art]

Bronze oinochoe (jug) handle with lion's head and female protome via Greek and Roman Art

Medium: Bronze

Rogers Fund, 1969 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY

http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/255276

[the-met-art]

Bronze oinochoe (jug) handle with lion's head and female protome via Greek and Roman Art

Medium: Bronze

Rogers Fund, 1960 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY

http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/255065