#Magistrates in Rome

[mariamilani]

Magistrates in Rome

The Ancient Magistrates in Rome included all the bureaucrats involved in running the state machine, also including roles as Aedile in charge of pubic builldings or Censor in charge of the public census and taxes. The cursus honorum was the path up the ladder to the ultimate position of Consul.

[spockvarietyhour]

It never rains but it pisses.

[m1male2]

The Julia Curia, Rome Forum.

The Curia Julia was the place where the Senate met.In Rome, the first Curia was the one built by Tullius Hostilius during his reign in the 6th century BC. C., but a fire in the year 52 B.C. He destroyed it and had to rebuild it, with Julius Caesar being in charge of doing so. It was started in 44 BC, the same year as his assassination, so he could not see it finished. His nephew/grandson and successor, Augustus, would take care of it, and it was finished in 29 BC.

Inside there is a rectangular room divided into three sectors where the three hundred seats of senators were located, whose function was to ratify laws, give advice to magistrates and direct foreign policy, finances and religion. The current bronze doors of the building are a copy since the originals were moved to San Juan de Letrán in the 17th century. 

Video ©️Altair4 Multimedia

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Roman Art Vocabulary

for your next poem/story

Acanthus - a kind of Mediterranean plant with large spreading leaves. It was used as a decorative element on Corinthian capitals and also was a symbol of death.

Amphitheater - an elliptical structure with a central arena for the staging of gladiatorial contests and animal combats.

Apse - a semicircular space within a Roman building. Typically a basilica would have an apse at one end.

Arch - a curved architectural member that spans an opening.

Atrium - the central room of a Roman house. It had a hole in the ceiling and a pool in the center of the floor to catch rainwater.

Aureus - the most valuable Roman coin, made of gold.

Barrel vault - a semicircular ceiling over parallel walls.

Basilica - a building type used for law courts and conducting business, which usually stood in the town forum. It consisted of a long rectangular hall with an apse at one end and three aisles separated by columns. The central aisle had a raised ceiling and clerestory windows. Often the exterior of the building was colonnaded.

Cameo - a relief carved from a stone that has layers of different colors, such as sardonyx.

Capitolium - the main temple for civic worship in Rome and other cities. It was dedicated to the three chief gods, Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva.

Cardo - the name of the north-south street in a Roman town laid out on the grid system.

Cavea - the rounded space of a theater containing seats for the spectators.

Colonnade - a row of columns.

Columbarium - a type of communal building to hold ash urns of the cremated. The name comes from the structure’s resemblance to a dovecote, since the urns, as well as portrait busts, were placed in niches in the walls similar to the nesting spaces in such a birdhouse.

Column - a weight-bearing architectural member that has a base, a cylindrical shaft, and a capital (ornamental top).

Concrete - a building material made of small stones or rubble (aggregate), lime mortar, water, and volcanic sand (pozzolana).

Consuls - the two chief magistrates of the Roman state, elected annually.

Cubiculum - the bedroom of a Roman house.

Damnatio memoriae - a decree by the senate that condemned an emperor and ordered that all images of him and references to him be obliterated.

Decumanus - the principal east-west street of a Roman town laid out on the grid system.

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists

[whencyclopedia]

Roman Games, Chariot Races & Spectacle

If there was one thing the Roman people loved it was spectacle and the opportunity of escapism offered by weird and wonderful public shows which assaulted the senses and ratcheted up the emotions. Roman rulers knew this well and so to increase their popularity and prestige with the people they put on lavish and spectacular shows in purpose-built venues across the empire. Such famous venues as the Colosseum and Circus Maximus of Rome would host events involving magnificent processions, exotic animals, gladiator battles, chariot races, executions and even mock naval battles.

Venues

It is significant that most of the best-preserved buildings from the Roman period are those which were dedicated to entertainment. Amphitheatres and circuses were built across the empire and even army camps had their own arena. The largest amphitheatre was the Colosseum with a capacity of at least 50,000 (likely more, if one factors in the smaller bodies and different sense of personal space compared to modern standards) whilst the Circus Maximus could hold a massive 250,000 spectators according to Pliny the Elder. With so many events on such a large scale, spectacles became a huge source of employment, from horse trainers to animal trappers, musicians to sand rakers.

From the end of the republic seats in the theatre, arena and circus were divided by class. Augustus established further rules so that slaves and free persons, children and adults, rich and poor, soldiers and civilians, single and married men were all seated separately, as were men from women. Naturally, the front row and more comfortable seats were reserved for the local senatorial class. Tickets were probably free to most forms of spectacle as organisers, whether city magistrates given the responsibility of providing public civic events, super-rich citizens or the emperors who would later monopolise control of spectacles, were all keen to display their generosity rather than use the events as a source of revenue.

Continue reading...

[e-pistulae]

in today's letters: i am once again directing you to the opening paragraph of plancus' wikipedia page

[caesarflickermans]

I've been thinking some more about the choice of purple for Sunrise on the Reapings' non-official book cover font (thanks in part to @districtunrest). While some of it does hint to Plutarch's purple outfits, I figured to look on who wears purple in Roman history.

The expense in the colour purple is a large part on why it is associated with royalty. In Rome, Roman magistrates wore purple. They are (at times) elected officials in high ranks within the empire. It's somewhat unspecified in what I could gleam, as various offices appear to be associated with being a magistrate. My main takeaway from this is that I'd usually have associated this with more direct royalty (a monarch, for example), but it appears to be more about the people a monarch surrounds himself.

Of course, much of this is my own confirmation bias, but I find this an interesting factoid knowing Collins is so inspired by Ancient Rome! If the colour choice has any relevance to Ancient Rome, it might well be that we could get the story from Plutarch's POV considering that his position seems somewhat related to the magistrate—no monarch, but someone in a high ranking, political-esque office.

[josefavomjaaga]

Hi,

This question is about Napoleon’s relationship with his stepson. It’s widely known that they had a good relationship and he referred to Eugene as my son while Eugene referred to him formally. Do u think there relationship was truly as good as people say?

Hi and thanks for the Ask! In short: I mostly think that, as with all things, their relationship gets more complicated the closer you look at it. When it comes to Napoleon, it's hard to separate private and political aspects, so Napoleon's personal feelings for Eugène may often have taken a back seat to political considerations.

First of all: When Napoleon adresses Eugène as "mon fils" in his letters, that is very much a formality. Charles von Baden, husband of Napoleon's adopted daughter Stéphanie de Beauharnais, is adressed the same way. Just to put things in perspective.

Of course that does not mean that Napoleon's relationship to Eugène cannot have been close. On the contrary. I keep thinking that what Napoleon had with Eugène was the closest thing to a real father-son-relationship he ever experienced, as the King of Rome was still a toddler when he saw him last, and as he barely had spent any time with him. However, father-son-relationships tend to have their ups and downs, especially when the son grows up and starts to get into his own 😊.

In Eugène's case, the "son" also became a political problem.

At the beginning, during the Consulate, I think the two well-mannered, polite and affable Beauharnais children were a great asset for Napoleon in Paris society. Eugène in particular was well-liked and had a reputation for being good-natured, personally brave, chivalrous, humble and without pretentions. The problems started with the Empire (or already with the Consulate for life), when the question of an heir grew increasingly important. Because with Eugène having played the role of Napoleon's son over several years, it's quite natural that many saw him as a potential heir (in the first place his mother, of course).

I do not know that this had ever been Napoleon's intention. I think he liked Eugène precisely because Eugène was only interested in his military career and had no political ambitions. The bigger Eugène's personal reputation got over the years, due to the fact that he administered Italy rather well, that he had the advantage of being married to a royal princess, that he gathered some prestige in the army etc., the more he became a problem, and the more potential for tensions with an increasingly irritable and suspicious stepfather.

Eugène of course was a very different character than Napoleon, and while he seems to have been truly in awe of his stepfather, he also had his own ideas about how to deal with problems (like, shooting bishops etc - not his kind of thing). He was an outwardly calm, stoic, even boring person, had a very different style of leading than Napoleon, was usually very friendly with his subordinates (there's only one scenario that I could think of where he really took offence and offended someone after an argument had escalated, and that's during the 1812 campaign), encouraged them rather than scolded them, was very willing to discuss problems and to change his mind when he felt somebody had better ideas, etc. - The way he himself was treated by Napoleon was, obviously, quite different and caused him quite some grief (there's an interesting letter from Duroc about this from 1805 that I would love to translate eventually). But this fate he shared with all of Napoleon's family and plenty of his magistrates.

As to specific disagreements: Napoleon had - more or less - promised to Eugène's wife that Eugène would eventually become king of (northern) Italy. And he did not want to keep that promise, especially after he had given Josephine the boot. On the other hand, he could not do without Eugène (or Hortense, for that matter) in his Empire, Eugène was the administrative hub not only for northern Italy but for the Italian peninsula as a whole and as far as the Illyrian provinces. Lots of tension there, especially as Auguste felt that her husband was treated unfairly - he had always done his duty, with much better results than plenty of others, and he was getting no reward for it.

There was much more tension during the final two years of the empire, especially after the Russian campaign. This campaign had greatly increased Eugène's military reputation. When Murat left the rests of the army in January 1813, Eugène had to take over command, something he considered an awful burden from the very beginning. He was showered with letters, orders, advice and (mostly) reprimands from his stepfather who sat in warm and cuddly Paris, and was unnerved by it to the point where he offered his resignation. Factually, Eugène managed to hold out in a very difficult situation, starting with barely 10,000 scared and discouraged men in a foreign country that turned increasingly hostile, and all he received for it was lecture after lecture. He must have been incredibly frustrated by it because we know he opened up to it on his journey home to his brother-in-law Ludwig, when he was finally allowed to return to his family in Milan - only to immediately raise a new army and try to fight the Austrians.

At this point, like most people in France, Eugène wanted, and expected, Napoleon to make peace with the allies. Peace at all costs. It was the only responsible thing to do. Yet Napoleon didn't. I think this also greatly contributed to Eugène's growing frustration with his stepfather.

Which brings us to Marmont and his accusations that Eugène had betrayed Napoleon in 1813. While i do think that Marmont has been misled and that the incident has been blown way out of proportion, it is true that Eugène refused to lead his army corps from Italy to France as Napoleon had ordered. He did so for good reasons because Napoleon's idea was pretty much rubbish in the first place, but fact is he did disobey a clear order, and he of course, even if he may not have admitted it to himself, had his eyes on the crown of Italy. But he wanted to receive it in the proper way, without openly betraying Napoleon: Wait until there is peace one way or another, then let's see. So he waited until Napoleon's abdication, then sent the French army home to France, then asked the Italian senat to put him on the throne. Which caused bloody uprisings in Milan, and Eugène had to flee the country.

That being said: Robert Wilson writes in his diary that Eugène cried when he received a letter by Hortense relating Napoleon's abdication. So, I guess all the political disputes had not killed the personal affection.

Eugène also will be the one trying to contact Napoleon on Elba, he seems to have contacted him from Vienna during the congress, he seems to have tried to contact him before Napoleon was sent to Saint Helena. Eugène will be the one sending money to Saint Helena, he will be the one publicly protesting to the monarchs against the way Napoleon was treated on that island. He did act like a son towards him until the end.

As to Napoleon: I'm not sure what he really thought about him. I don't think he could respect somebody who did not have the ambition and ruthlessness he himself was so proud to possess. (Obviously, I feel exactly the opposite 😋.)

Summing up: No, it was not always a rosy relationship but it was in fact a father-son-relationship.

Sorry for the long rambling, and thanks once more for the question!

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Gentile. | Chapter XXXVIII

You have a heart to heart with Gaius.

Chapter list

A few slow days pass, which eventually melt into weeks. You only measure time by the steady growing of your belly and counting the days you’ve last seen Atticus, which is a number growing painfully larger and larger. There isn’t a whole lot going on lately regarding Jesus of Nazareth — you reckon He is out of town — but it doesn’t shrink the expanding tent village that Quintus had considered imposing taxes on. Judging by his everlasting sneer, you establish that he hasn’t been successful so far.

One thing does change, though. Somehow, Quintus seems to soften towards you, and you aren’t sure why. Perhaps it’s the growing exhaustion visible on your face, the way you are starting to waddle around rather than walk, or maybe it’s the restless tossing and turning at night that has him somehow loosening the usually tight ropes of his control. A cynical part of you wonders for how long it will last. Living with an individual like him, it’s difficult to not be walking around on eggshells regardless of his seemingly more lenient mood.

Your days are filled with writing to your brother and to Joanna as well as scribbling on some poetry, although you hardly find yourself inspired. You often read the book Atticus had gifted you in the shade of the tree in the garden front to back and then again, and you can almost recite it word for word from the top of your head at this point. Perhaps you should pick up something new from the library some day in order to find new motivation to write.

An idea has been dancing around your mind, and although you have been turning it over and over inside your head, you have not decided what to do with it yet.

Through your correspondence with Lucius, you’ve heard that Lucilla is barely getting better as time progresses. Priests and healers have released their treatments, prayers and concoctions onto the newborn, but you can see by the way the parchment is stained with tears that no good news ever comes from Rome these days. Lucius has barely had time to grieve his late wife with the concern regarding his girl, and if he lost the baby, too… 

Something weighs heavily on your heart.

You are overtaken by the inexplicable urge to insist Lucius to come visit Capernaum with his daughters, that Jesus may see her and heal her ailment. You know Jesus’ healings are not exclusive to Jews. Still, there is a nagging feeling in the back of our head which you choose to ignore, one that tells you that He will not care about a Roman child, let alone the niece of the very Praetor who has been making life not much easier for Him and His followers. You’re trying your very best to not pay that annoying little voice any mind.

Another issue remains. You haven’t told Lucius about Jesus yet, and with all the letters to and from him being read by Quintus before he allows you to send them out, you fear you won’t be able to subtly tell him about it. In spite of your husband’s increasing tolerance towards you, this is something he won’t budge on, even if you were to ask him to respect your privacy. You have briefly considered sending secret letters instead like you had done to Atticus before, but you aren’t certain what kind of arrangements the magistrate has made with the clerk at the post office. For all you know, Quintus has set strict rules on letters written by you requiring his personal seal as well before being sent out.

Even Joanna picked up on it, realising that the uncharacteristic superficiality within your letters does not come from a voluntary hand and in turn has decided to switch up her language by referring to John the Baptist as ‘the prisoner’ and her husband Chuza as ‘the strange steward of Herod’. Perhaps you should follow her example and somehow cryptically get the message about Jesus across. 

The Healer. The Miracle Worker. The Preacher. The terms crossing your mind as to refer to Jesus are way too obvious for Quintus to realise Whom you are talking about. So, you decide to approach it differently.

‘Perhaps you should come visit us soon. A change of scenery might do her good. The air here is cleaner than in Rome and the minerals the healers use here come straight from the Dead Sea.’ 

Quintus reads over your letter to Lucius, and his brow furrows. 

“Do you really want to invite them over here? Wouldn’t it be too much pressure on you, seeing that you’re getting closer to your due date?” You’d almost be convinced that he is actually concerned. 

“I don’t see how it would pose a problem.” you tell the Praetor. “If anything, he might be able to help out.” 

Quintus lets out a long hum, narrowing his eyes as he lets them roam over the letter. “I see.” he mutters, not too keen on the idea of having a toddler as well as a wailing, sickly baby under his roof at the moment. “Hm. Very well.”

The smiles you give Quintus rarely reach your eyes, but this time, it’s genuine. 

“Thank you.” you mutter, and he looks up at you with something akin to scrutiny. 

“Hm.” he hums again, observing you. Your smile slightly falls as you look at him in question.

Tucking some hair behind your ear, you straighten your back. “What?”

Your husband dismissively waves his hand. “Nothing. Just… No, nothing.”

Holding the rolled up letter in your hand, you frown a little at Quintus, a pit forming in your stomach. There is something on his mind and he’s not voicing it out loud. You can’t decide whether that’s a good or a bad thing. 

You excuse yourself and head for the nearby booth to post your letter, handing the clerk your ring to seal it for you. A thrill goes through you as you watch him tuck it away for the courier, excited at the prospect of your brother and nieces visiting you, and in turn, Lucilla getting healed by Jesus. 

Thanking the man, you waddle away and hold your hand under your tummy, resting the other on your hip to support your aching back. You wonder if you should head to the marketplace on your own, but decide to ask Gaius to join you instead. Perhaps, if you find an opportunity to mention that you are aware that the Primi knows, you can figure out why he decided to not tell Quintus in spite of his duty and vows.

You find the Primi with a pondering crease in his brow as he sips a cup of water – the cistern is still broken but servants walk back and forth from the well outside of the village – while sitting next to Julius in the square in front of Quintus’ office. 

A few wary gazes shoot your way from townsfolk and soldiers alike, who start to whisper amongst each other. You feel an uneasy pit forming in your gut at the way they’re eyeing you up and down. Instinctively, you put a hand over your belly, but the motion only seems to fuel their mutterings. The glances range from disgusted to curious.

“Lady (Y/n).” Julius immediately greets you as you walk up to him and the Primi, giving you a small bow of his head. You nod at him in greeting and smile, then turn to Gaius. 

“Would you join me to the market, Primi?” 

The whispering ceases as all eyes turn to you and Gaius. He puts down his cup, looking at the people around him for a moment before he gets up. 

 “Of course, my lady. Lead the way.”

The two of you walk off under intense scrutiny and it isn’t until you’ve turned the corner that you dare to speak. “I’d like to see the tent city.” you state matter-of-factly, knowing that the city walls make for moderate privacy. 

No other words are exchanged for a while as you ascend a flight of stairs, which is a task in and of itself now that your baby is getting significantly heavy, and slightly out of breath, you halt right where the tent city is located. Gaius remembers standing here next to your lover a while ago, discussing the same city your gaze is now focused on.

“What was that about?” you ask, slightly breathless, “What were they whispering about?”

Gaius' face flashes with guilt, even though he himself has not been the one who opened his mouth about anything that has been going on.

“As the cohorte may have mentioned to you, there is a soldier other than myself who knows about… You know. And… It so happens that said soldier likes to gloat about anything just to appear interesting to the others.”

One and one is two. You don’t need to inquire further, nor do you have to ask who the patrolling soldier in question was. You could check Quintus’ ledgers to check who was on patrol with the Primi during your little rendezvous that day, but you know better than to bring Gaius’ trust and your budding friendship into peril for something that cannot be reversed regardless of how you’d act. It wouldn’t make a difference to know, anyways.

“I was wondering why you chose to not tell Quintus.” Although you know he respects both you and Atticus, you wonder if the Primi would reveal some other reasons.

Gaius takes a deep breath before responding. “First of all, I have borne witness to several… Quarrels between you and the Praetor. Moments that have made me feel uneasy. Made me feel sympathy for you. I cannot imagine speaking to my wife like that, and I know that you are a bit acquainted with her, so there’s that.”

You avert your gaze back to the camp. “I see.” 

The Primi carries on. “I can see the way you shrink around Quintus. The way your eyes become dull and the silence that befalls you. It’s the complete opposite from whenever I see you around Atticus. Your eyes light up, your body language turns open and bright, and… Well, let’s just say that I can see you are very happy with him.” 

It’s a surprising answer and you turn to Gaius with a mixture of puzzlement, awe and gratitude. “That’s… Really thoughtful of you, Gaius. You owe me nothing, and yet…” 

He smiles a bit and nods. “I do what I can. I may have duties towards your husband, but I choose to omit certain information in this case. As long as he doesn’t inquire about it, I don’t have to say anything.” 

Humming, you slide your hands over the smooth stone of the wall. You lean against it in favour of your aching ankles.

“Thank you.” you say in earnesty, and he gives you a soft, kind look. 

“It’s nothing.”

Gaius seems as if he wants to say something else, but seems to decide to swallow the words instead as he follows your gaze to the tent city. It has only grown since the last time he was here, and he has started to recognise a few faces from here and there, pointing out a few potential troublemakers by sight alone. 

“I also know when to pick my battles. This isn’t worth losing my job over. If Quintus wouldn’t get rid of me, Atticus would do so if he found out that I talked. So I remain quiet.”

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you thumb a particularly sore, itchy spot on your tummy.

“So you’re better off by remaining in Atticus' good graces and risk Quintus getting upset with you for not telling him about the affair, than if you were to tell Quintus just because of your duty and then to lose your position because of Atticus’ influence.”

“Something like that.” 

A brief silence comes over you two as you stand there. You watch the pilgrims for a while. The ambiance coming from the tent city is both peaceful and crackling with anticipation. It seems that everyone around here has been wondering where Jesus has been these past days, yourself 

included.

Your gaze flickers to Gaius, who has a thoughtful look on his face. 

“A denarius for your thoughts, Primi?” 

“It’s nothing.” he counters - too quickly to not be considered overly defensive - and you tilt your head a little in question. Gaius sighs and lowers his gaze. “Just… Trouble at home.”

Your eyes widen. “Livia?” 

He observes you for a long moment, seeing genuine concern in your eyes. It would only be fair to reveal a little about his own issues, compared to how Gaius himself knows all about the skeletons in your closet. 

“In a way.” 

The cryptic reply doesn’t answer anything. He rubs his forehead in an attempt to ease the sudden tension growing within his skull in an attempt to get rid of it before it turns into a raging headache.

“There uh… We have this servant boy… He’s been ill for a long while now, and no doctor seems to be able to help him. We’ve tried everything. I… I fear the worst.”

You swallow hard. “A servant boy, you say. What does this have to do with Livia?”

“Because the boy is my son.” Gaius confesses, causing your heart to drop. You had always perceived Gaius a man to be faithful to his wife, seeing his unwavering duty to the Empire in spite of his Germanic origins, so the revelation makes you feel a pang of sadness. “He comes from a mistake I made in the past. I had this… Brief fling with one of our slaves and got her with child, and then she died during labour. I felt guilty towards both my wife and the servant, felt obligated to take him in as a servant. It’s… It has definitely put a strain on our relationship. We don’t… We don’t really talk about it.”

“Do you feel like you are allowed to worry about him, since he’s… Would he… Would he be considered a bastard child?” you question out loud.

Gaius stares off into the distance and shrugs. “It’s complicated.” When you don’t open your mouth, he realises you’re waiting for an answer. “I can no longer deny that he is indeed my son and I cannot pretend to refute it, either.” 

There is vulnerability in his shoulders as they slump a bit. 

His situation is a bit like your brother’s, different in a way, but you understand the pain he must be going through. Seeing Lucius go through it as well, you know how heavy it must be on him. 

What better advice to give the Primi than the exact same advice you’re planning on giving to your brother? 

You breathe in to speak. “Gaius, I want to ask you a question and I want you to answer me honestly.”

The Primi lets his gaze flicker to you, puzzlement visible on his features. “What is it, my lady?”

“What do you think of Jesus of Nazareth?”

You know that he has had some kind of interest in Him, especially since Matthew has started to follow this Teacher and in turn left everything behind, but you haven’t asked him about it upfront. Hoping to find some common ground, you give the Primi a gentle smile.

“He is a charismatic Teacher. I can understand their interest.” 

“And you, Primi?”

“Pardon?” 

“Does He have your ear?” 

Gaius’ lips slightly part when he looks at you. “My lady, I do not know how to answer that question.” 

“You know you can tell me, right? It’s not like I’d be one to talk.”

“So you’re interested in Him and His teachings?”

You huff a small smile and wince as you feel a painful kick against your bladder. You hope to find a lavatory soon. 

“Ah. I thought that I was pretty obvious in my interests.”

The Primi gives you a concerned look.

“Are you alright, my lady?” 

You realise there must have been a strain your voice at the moment you spoke, and you nod your head. 

“I’m fine. Just the baby being very active at the moment. But please, Primi. Don’t avoid my question or change the topic.” 

Letting out a long sigh, Gaius’ gaze goes back to the camp, taking in the ever-growing perimeter as he wonders what he should or should not tell you. He knows he can trust you in spite of your rebellious advances towards the man he serves. There is genuineness in your voice as well as on your face, and truth be told, Gaius could indeed tell that you had been interested in Jesus of Nazareth, judging by your behaviour and insistence to be present at the Sermon on the Mount.  

“I suppose that we can both say that we have seen things that we cannot properly rationalise when compared to our own understanding or our Roman deities.”

You hum. You have visited the home of Gaius and Livia once or twice and seen the altars to the gods in their hallway, adorned with candles and fresh fruits.  

“I’ve been thinking the same thing. Our own gods, what have they ever done for me? How do they compare to… To Jesus? To that Father God He speaks of?” 

“Are you saying that you believe He is divine?” Gaius asks. 

You think for a long moment. Your silence does not confirm nor deny. After all, you are still trying to figure things out, despite your heart already hammering inside your chest at the notion.

For a while, the two of you digest the heaviness of the statement as it lingers between you. Gaze focused upon the crowd, you hold your tummy and slide your palm over it.

“I think…” Gaius whispers all of a sudden, “…I think that I should go see Jesus about my son.” 

Your heart rears as you turn to the Primi with a shocked expression on your face, trying to comprehend what  he is implying exactly, and you look at him with parted lips over which come no words, although so many questions well up inside your mind.

Then, you take a sharp breath when Gaius does not explain himself any further.

“He would not deny you.” 

A small flicker of something seeps into the Primi’s expression and he smiles, as if some kind of understanding has just taken root between the two of you. The same kind of thing you feel whenever you are discussing Jesus with Joanna. 

Gaius is looking at you in a way that convinces you that he has not encountered another Roman before who shares the same beliefs about Jesus as him. It is almost as if the Primi had expected you to shun him for what he thinks is true.

There is a silence for a long while.

“Perhaps I should bring you home... I mean, to your house.”

There is a certain edge to his voice that you appreciate when Gaius corrects himself, as if he is fully aware and understanding how the mansion you share with Quintus is not a home to you. 

“Yeah, maybe I should head back.” You do not wish to test the limits of your husband’s newfound and most likely fickle compassion. 

The two of you take the slow, long route back, over the city walls. Part of you wants to ask the Primi about Atticus, but you reckon he knows as much as you do. You ignore the dull ache in your ankles as you walk. 

“Can we stop at the public lavatory?” you request, the pressure in your abdomen growing stronger. 

“Of course.” Gaius says, and leads you to the nearest Roman bathroom so you can relieve yourself.

Once done, you fix your skirt and readjust your stole, exiting the space at the back of the building and taking a moment to rub your sore shoulders, not wanting to head back to Gaius and thus to Quintus just yet. Letting out a long sigh, you stand for a few seconds, taking in the hustle and bustle of the city. Right as you are about to turn and head back to the front to meet with the Primi again so he can escort you home, a Jewish woman nearly bumps into you. Her dark eyes widen in surprise as she looks at you.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No need, all my fault.” you reassure her. A relieved smile forms over her lips and she lets her gaze go over you, taking you in, and you think for a moment that she recognises you from somewhere and that you should recall her face, too, but instead her eyes go to her belly. The faintest of hums leave her as something glitters in her eyes, her own hand going to her tummy as well, and you don’t even need to ask to know that she’s likely expecting too, although not yet showing.

It is a moment of brief, intimate understanding. Something that goes far beyond wealth, religion and culture.

“Bye, now.” the woman breathes before brushing past you, and you watch her leave for a moment before sighing, smiling a little before it falls again. Then, you head back to Gaius, your gut twisting unpleasantly as you know you’re headed back to Quintus, not necessarily keen on spending yet another evening with him.

---

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[mapsontheweb]

The expansion of the Roman Empire to AD 117.

by Undevicesimus

From its humble origins as a group of villages on the Tiber in the plains of Latium, Rome came to control one of the greatest empires in history, reaching from the Atlantic Ocean to the Tigris and from the North Sea to the Sahara Desert. Its extensive legacy continues to serve as a lowest common denominator not only for the nations and peoples within its erstwhile borders, but much of the modern world at large. Roman law is the foundation for present-day legal systems across the globe, the Latin language survives in the Romance languages spoken on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean and beyond, Roman settlements developed into some of Europe’s most important cities and stood model for many others, Roman architecture left some of history’s finest manmade landmarks, Christianity – the Roman state religion from AD 395 – remains the world’s dominant faith and Rome continues to feature prominently in Western popular culture… Rome rose in a geographically favourable location: on the left bank of the Tiber, not too far from the sea but far enough inland to be able to control important trade routes in central Italy: southwest from the Apennines alongside the Tiber, and from Etruria southeast into Latium and Campania. In later ages, the Romans always had much to tell about the founding and early history of their city: tales about the twin brothers Romulus and Remus being raised by a she-wolf, the founding of Rome by Romulus on 21 April 753 BC and the reign of the Seven Kings (of which Romulus was the first). According to Roman accounts, the last King of Rome – Tarquinius Superbus – was expelled in 510 BC, after which the Roman aristocracy established a republic ruled by two annually elected magistrates (Latin: pl. consulis) with the support of the Senate (Latin: senatus), a council made up of the leaders of the most prominent Roman families. Often at odds with their neighbours, the Romans considered military service one of the greatest contributions common people could make to the state and the easiest way for a consul to gain both power and prestige by protecting the republic. The Romans booked their first major triumph by conquering the Etruscan city Veii in 396 BC and went on to defeat most of the Latin cities in central Italy by 338 BC, despite the Celtic sack of Rome in 387 BC. Throughout the second half of the fourth century BC, the republic expanded in two different ways: direct annexation of enemy territory and the creation of a complex system of alliances with the peoples and cities of Italy. Shortly after 300 BC, nearly all the peoples of Italy united to stop Roman expansion once and for all – among them the Samnites, Umbrians, Etruscans and Celts. Rome obliterated the coalition in the decisive Battle of Sentinum (295 BC) and thus became the strongest power in Italy. By 264 BC, Rome controlled the Italian peninsula up to the Po Valley and was powerful enough to challenge its principal rival in the western Mediterranean: Carthage. The First Punic War began when the Italic people of Messana called for Roman help against both Carthage and the Greeks of Syracuse, a request which was accepted surprisingly quickly. The Romans allied with Syracuse, conquered most of Sicily and narrowly defeated the Carthaginian navy at Mylae in 264 BC and Ecnomus in 256 BC – the largest naval battles of Antiquity. Roman fleets gained a decisive victory off the Aegates Islands in 241 BC, ending the war and forcing the Carthaginians to abandon Sicily. Taking advantage of Carthage’s internal troubles, Rome seized Sardinia and Corsica in 238 BC. Rome’s frustration at Carthage’s resurgence and subsequent conquests in Spain sparked the Second Punic War, in which the Carthaginian commander Hannibal crossed the Alps and invaded the Italian peninsula. The Romans suffered massive defeats at the Trebia in 218 BC, Lake Trasimene in 217 BC and most famously at Cannae in 216 BC where over 50,000 Romans were slain – the largest military loss in one day in any army until the First World War. However, Hannibal failed to press his advantage and continued an increasingly pointless campaign in Italy while the Romans conquered the Carthaginian territory in Spain and ultimately brought the war to Africa. Hannibal’s army made it back home but was decisively defeated by Scipio Africanus at the Battle of Zama in 202 BC, securing Rome’s hard-fought victory in arguably the most important war in Roman history. Firmly in command of much of the western Mediterranean, Rome turned its attention eastwards to Greece. Less than fifty years after the Second Punic War, Rome had crushed the Macedonian kingdom – an erstwhile ally of Hannibal – and formally annexed the Greek city-states after the destruction of Corinth in 146 BC. That very same year, the Romans finished off the helpless Carthaginians in much the same way, burning the city of Carthage to the ground and annexing its remaining territory into the new province of Africa. With Carthage, Macedon and the Greek cities out of the way, Rome was free to deal with the Hellenic kingdoms in Asia Minor and the Middle East, the remnants of Alexander the Great’s empire. In 133 BC, Attalus III of Pergamum left his realm to Rome by testament, gaining the Romans their first foothold in Asia. As the Romans expanded their borders, the unrest back in Rome and Italy increased accordingly. The wars against Carthage and the Greeks had seriously crippled the Roman peasants whom abandoned their home to campaign for years in distant lands, only to come back and find their farmland turned into a wilderness. Many peasants were thus forced to sell their land at a ridiculously low price, causing the emergence of an impoverished proletarian mass in Rome and an agricultural elite in control of vast swathes of countryside. This in turn disrupted army recruitment, which heavily relied on middle class peasants who were able to afford their own arms and armour. Two possible solutions could remove this problem: a redistribution of the land so that the peasantry remained wealthy and large enough to be able to afford their military equipment and serve in the army, or else allowing the proletarian masses to enter military service and make the army into a professional body. However, both options would threaten the position of the Roman Senate: a powerful peasantry could press calls for more political influence and a professional army would bind soldiers’ loyalty to their commander instead of the Senate. The senatorial elite thus stubbornly clung to the existing institutions which were undermining the republic they wanted to uphold. More importantly, the Senate’s attitude and increasingly shaky position, in addition to the growing internal tensions, created a perfect climate for overly ambitious commanders seeking to turn military prestige gained abroad into political power back home. Roman successes on the frontline nevertheless continued: Pergamum was turned into the province of Asia in 129 BC, Roman forces sacked the city of Numantia in Spain that same year, the Balearic Islands were conquered in 123 BC, southern Gaul became the new province of Gallia Narbonensis in 121 BC and the Berber kingdom of Numidia was dealt a defeat in the Jughurtine War (112 – 106 BC). The latter conflict provided Gaius Marius the opportunity to reform his army without senatorial approval, allowing proletarians to enlist and creating a force of professional soldiers who were loyal to him before the Senate. Marius’ legions proved their efficiency at the Battles of Aquae Sextiae in 102 BC and Vercellae in 101 BC, virtually annihilating the migratory invasions of the Germanic Cimbri and Teutones. Marius subsequently used his power and prestige to secure a land distribution for his victorious forces, thus setting a precedent: any successful commander with an army behind him could now manipulate the political theatre back in Rome. Marius was succeeded as Rome’s leading commander by Lucius Cornelius Sulla, who gained renown when Rome’s Italic allies – fed up with their unequal status – attempted to renounce their allegiance. Rome narrowly won the ensuing Social War (91 – 88 BC) and granted the Italic peoples full Roman citizenship. Sulla left for the east in 86 BC, where he drove back King Mithridates of Pontus, whom had sought to benefit from the Social War by invading Roman territories in Asia and Greece. Sulla marched on Rome itself in 82 BC, executed many of his political enemies in a bloody purge and passed reforms to strengthen the Senate before voluntarily stepping down in 79 BC. Sulla’s retirement and death one year later allowed his general Pompey to begin his own rise to prominence. Following his victory in the Sertorian War in 72 BC, Pompey eradicated piracy in the Mediterranean Sea in 67 BC and led a campaign against Rome’s remaining eastern enemies in 66 BC. Pompey drove Mithridates of Pontus to flight, annexed Pontic lands into the new province of Bithynia et Pontus and created the province of Cilicia in southern Asia Minor. He proceeded to destroy the crumbling Seleucid Empire and turned it into the new province of Syria in 64 BC, causing Armenia to surrender and become a vassal of Rome. Pompey’s legions then advanced south, took Jerusalem and turned the Hasmonean Kingdom in Judea into a Roman vassal as well. Upon his triumphant return to Rome in 61 BC, Pompey made the significant mistake of disbanding his army with the promise of a land distribution, which was refused by the Senate in an attempt to isolate him. Pompey then concluded a political alliance with the rich Marcus Licinius Crassus and a young, ambitious politician: Gaius Julius Caesar. The purpose of this political alliance – known in later times as the First Triumvirate – was to get Caesar elected as consul in 59 BC, so that he could arrange the land distribution for Pompey’s veterans. In return, Pompey would use his influence to make Caesar proconsul and thus give him the chance to levy his own legions and become a man of power in the Roman Republic. Crassus, the richest man in Rome, funded the election campaign and easily got Caesar elected as consul, after which Caesar secured Pompey’s land distribution. Everything went according to plan and Caesar was made proconsul of Gaul for five years, starting in 58 BC. In the following years, Caesar and his legions systematically conquered all of Gaul in a war which has been immortalised in the accounts of Caesar himself (‘Commentarii De Bello Gallico’). Despite fierce resistance and massive revolts led by the Gallic warlord Vercingetorix, the Gallic tribes proved unable to inflict a decisive defeat on the Romans and were all subdued or annihilated by 51 BC, leaving Caesar’s power and prestige at unprecedented heights. With Crassus having fallen at the Battle of Carrhae against the Parthians in 53 BC, Pompey was left to try and mediate between Caesar and the radicalised Roman proletariat on one side and the politically hard-pressed Senate on the other. However, Pompey had once been where Caesar was now – the champion of Rome – and ultimately chose to side with the Senate, realising his own greatness had become overshadowed by Caesar’s staggering military successes and popularity among the masses. When Caesar’s term as proconsul ended, the Senate demanded that he step down, disband his armies and return to Rome as a mere citizen. Though it was tradition for a Roman commander to do so, rendering Caesar theoretically immune from any senatorial prosecution, the existing political situation made such demands hard to meet. Caesar instead offered the Senate to extend his term as proconsul and leave him in command of two legions until he could be legally elected as consul again. When the Senate refused, Caesar responded by crossing the Rubicon – the northern border of Roman Italy which no Roman commander should cross with an army – and marched on Rome itself in 49 BC. Pompey and most of the senators fled to Dyrrhachium in Greece and assembled their forces while Caesar turned around and conducted a lightning campaign in Spain, defeating the legions loyal to Pompey at the Battle of Ilerda. Caesar crossed the Adriatic Sea in 48 BC, narrowly escaping defeat by Pompey at Dyrrhachium and retreating south. Pompey clumsily failed to press his advantage and his forces were in turn decisively defeated by Caesar at the Battle of Pharsalus on 6 June 48 BC. Pompey fled to Egypt in hopes of being granted sanctuary by the young king Ptolemy XIII, who instead had him assassinated in an attempt at pleasing Caesar, who was in pursuit. Ptolemy XIII was driven from power in favour of his older sister Cleopatra VII, with whom Caesar had a brief romance and his only known son, Caesarion. In the spring and summer of 47 BC, another lightning campaign was launched northwards through Syria and Cappadocia into Pontus, securing Caesar’s hold on Rome’s eastern reaches and decisively defeating the forces of Pharnaces II of Pontus, who had attempted to profit from Rome’s internal strife. Caesar invaded Africa in 46 BC and cleared Pompeian forces from the region at the Battles of Ruspina and Thapsus before returning to Spain and defeating the last resistance at the Battle of Munda in 45 BC. Caesar subsequently began transforming the Roman government from a republican one meant for a city-state to an imperial one meant for an empire. Major reforms were required to achieve this, many of which would be opposed by Caesar’s political enemies. This was a problem because several of these people enjoyed significant political influence and popular support (cf. Cicero) and while none of them could really challenge Caesar individually and publicly, collectively and secretly they could be a serious threat. To render his enemies politically impotent, Caesar consolidated his popularity among the Roman masses by passing reforms beneficial to the proletariat and enlarging the Senate to ensure his supporters had the upper hand. He then manipulated the Senate into granting him a number of legislative powers, most prominently the office of dictator for ten years, soon changed to dictator perpetuus. Though widely welcomed by the masses, Caesar’s reforms and legislative powers dismayed his political opponents, whom assembled a conspiracy to murder him and ‘liberate’ Rome. The conspirators, of whom Brutus and Cassius are the most famous, were successful and Caesar was brutally stabbed to death on 15 March 44 BC. Caesar’s death left a power vacuum which plunged the Roman world into yet another civil war. In his testament, Caesar adopted as his sole heir his grandnephew Gaius Octavius, henceforth known as Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus (Octavian, in English). Despite being only eighteen, Octavian quickly secured the support of Caesar’s legions and forced the Senate to grant him several legislative powers, including the consulship. In 43 BC, Octavian established a military dictatorship known as the Second Triumvirate with Caesar’s former generals Mark Antony and Marcus Lepidus. Caesar’s assassins had meanwhile fled to the eastern provinces, where they assembled forces of their own and subsequently moved into Greece. Octavian and Antony in turn invaded Greece in 42 BC and defeated them at the Battles of Philippi. Octavian, Antony and Lepidus then divided the Roman world between them: Octavian would rule the west, Antony the east and Lepidus the south with Italy as a joint-ruled territory. However, Octavian soon proved himself a brilliant politician and strategist by quickly consolidating his hold on both the western provinces and Italy, smashing the Sicilian Revolt of Sextus Pompey (son of) in 36 BC and ousting Lepidus from the Triumvirate that same year. Meanwhile, Antony consolidated his position in the east but made the fatal mistake of becoming the lover of Cleopatra VII. In 32 BC, Octavian manipulated the Senate into a declaration of war upon Cleopatra’s realm, correctly expecting Antony would come to her aid. The two sides battled at Actium on 2 September 31 BC, resulting in a crushing victory for Octavian, despite Antony and Cleopatra escaping back to Egypt. Octavian crossed into Asia the following year and marched through Asia Minor, Syria and Judea into Egypt, subjugating the eastern territories along the way. On 1 August 30 BC, the forces of Octavian entered Alexandria. Both Antony and Cleopatra perished by their own hand, leaving Octavian as the undisputed master of the Roman world. Octavian assumed the title of Augustus in January 27 BC and officially restored the Roman Republic, although in reality he reduced it to little more than a facade for a new imperial regime. Thus began the era of the Principate, named after the constitutional framework which made Augustus and his successors princeps (first citizen), commonly referred to as ‘emperor’, and which would last approximately two centuries. Augustus nevertheless refrained from giving himself absolute power vested in a single title, instead subtly spreading imperial authority throughout the republican constitution while simultaneously relying on pure prestige. Thus he avoided stomping any senatorial toes too hard, remembering what had happened to Julius Caesar. Augustus and his successors drew most of their power from two republican offices. The title of tribunicia potestes ensured the emperor political immunity, veto rights in the Senate and the right to call meetings in both the Senate and the concilium plebis (people’s assembly). This gave the emperor the opportunity to present himself as the guardian of the empire and the Roman people, a significant ideological boost to his prestige. Secondly, the emperor held imperium proconsulare. Imperium implied the emperor’s governorship of the so-called imperial provinces, which were typically border provinces, provinces prone to revolt and/or exceptionally rich provinces. These provinces obviously required a major military presence, thereby securing the emperor’s command of most of the Roman legions. The title was proconsulare because the emperor enjoyed imperium even without being a consul. The emperor furthermore interfered in the affairs of the (non-imperial) senatorial provinces on a regular basis and gave literally every person in the empire the theoretical right to request his personal judgement in court cases. Roman religion was also brought under the emperor’s wings by means of him becoming pontifex maximus (supreme priest), a position of major ideological importance. On top of all this, the Senate frequently granted the emperor additional rights which enhanced his power even more: supervision over coinage, the right to declare war or conclude peace treaties, the right to grant Roman citizenship, control over Roman colonisation across the Mediterranean, etc. The emperor was thus the supreme administrator, commander, priest and judge of the empire – a de facto absolute ruler, but without actually being named as such. It is worth noting that Augustus and most of his immediate successors worked hard to play along in the empire’s republican theatre, which gradually faded as the centuries passed. The most important questions nonetheless remained the same for a long time after Augustus’ death in AD 14. Could the emperor keep himself in the Senate’s good graces by preserving the republican mask? Or did he choose an open conflict with the Senate by ruling all too autocratically? Even a de facto absolute ruler required the support and acceptance of the empire’s elite class, the lack of which could prove to be a serious obstacle to any imperial policies. The relationship between the emperor and the Senate was therefore of significant importance in maintaining the political work of Augustus, particularly under his immediate successors. The first four of these were Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius and Nero – the Julio-Claudian dynasty. Tiberius was chosen by Augustus as successor on account of his impressive military service and proved to be a capable (if gloomy) ruler, continuing along the political lines of Augustus and implementing financial policies which left the imperial treasuries in decent shape at his death in AD 37 and Caligula’s accession. Despite having suffered a harsh youth full of intrigues and plotting, Caligula quickly gained the respect of the Senate, the army and the people, making a hopeful entry into the Principate. Yet continuous personal setbacks turned Caligula bitter and autocratic, not to say tyrannical, causing him to hurl his imperial power head-first into the senatorial elite and any dissenting groups (most notably the Jews). After Caligula’s assassination in AD 41, the position of emperor fell to his uncle Claudius who, despite a strained relationship with the Senate, managed to play the republican charade well enough to implement further administrative reforms and successfully invade the British Isles to establish the province of Britannia from AD 43 onward. But the Roman drive for expansion had been somewhat tempered after Augustus’ consolidating conquests in Spain, along the Danube and in the east. The Romans had practically turned the Mediterranean Sea into their own internal sea (Mare Internum or Mare Nostrum) and thus switched to territorial consolidation rather than expansion. However, the former was still often accomplished by the latter as multiple vassal states (Judea, Cappadocia, Mauretania, Thrace etc.) were gradually annexed as new Roman provinces. Actual wars of aggression nevertheless ceased to be a main item on the Roman agenda and indeed, the policies of consolidation and pacification paved the way for a long period of internal peace and stability during the first and second centuries AD – the Pax Romana. This should not be idealised, though. On the local level, violence was often one of the few stable elements in the lives of the common people across the empire. Especially among the lowest ranks of society, crimes such as murder and thievery were the order of the day but were typically either ignored by the Roman authorities or answered with brute force. Moreover, the Romans focused on safeguarding cities and places of major strategic or economic importance and often cared little about maintaining order in the vast countryside. Unpleasant encounters with brigands, deserters or marauders were therefore likely for those who travelled long distances without an armed escort. At the empire’s frontiers, the Roman legions regularly fought skirmishes with their local enemies, most notably the Germanic tribes across the Rhine-Danube frontier and the Parthians across the Euphrates. Despite all this, the big picture of the Roman world in the first and second centuries AD is indeed one of lasting stability which could not be discredited so easily. The real threat to the Pax Romana existed not so much in local violence, shady neighbourhoods or frontier skirmishes but rather in the highest ranks of the imperial court. The lack of both dynastic and elective succession mechanisms had been the Principate’s weakest point from the outset and would be the cause of major internal turmoil on several occasions. Claudius’ successor Nero succeeded in provoking both the Senate and the army to such an extent that several provincial governors rose up in open revolt. The chaos surrounding Nero’s flight from Rome and death by his own hand plunged the empire into its first major succession crisis. If the emperor lost the respect and loyalty of both the Senate and the army, he could not choose a successor, giving senators and soldiers a free hand to appoint the persons they considered suitable to be the new emperor. This being the exact situation upon Nero’s death in AD 68, the result was nothing short of a new civil war. To further add to the catastrophe, the civil war of AD 68/69 (the Year of Four Emperors) allowed for two major uprisings to get out of hand – the Batavian Revolt near the mouths of the Rhine and the First Jewish-Roman War in Judea. Both of these were ultimately crushed with significant difficulties, especially in Judea where Jewish religious-nationalist sentiments capitalised on existing political and economic unrest. Though the Romans achieved victory with the destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70 and the expulsion of the Jews from the city, Judea would remain a hotbed for revolts until deep into the second century AD. The fact that major uprisings arose at the first sign of trouble within the empire might cause one to wonder about the true nature of the Pax Romana. Was it truly the strong internal stability it is popularly known to be? Or was it little more than a forced peace, continuously threatened by socio-economic and political discontent among the many different peoples under the Roman yoke? Though a bit of both, the answer definitely leans towards the former hypothesis. While the Pax Romana lasted, unrest within the empire remained limited to a few hotbeds with a history of resisting foreign conquerors. Besides the obvious example of the Jewish people in Judea, whose anti-Roman sentiments largely stemmed from their unique messianic doctrines, large-scale resistance against the Romans was scarce. It is true that the incorporation and Romanisation of unique societies near the empire’s northern frontiers led to severe socio-economic problems and subsequent uprisings, most notably Boudica’s Rebellion in Britain (AD 60 – 61) and the aforementioned Batavian Revolt near the mouths of the Rhine. Nevertheless, it is safe to assume that the Pax Romana was strong enough to outlast a few pockets of rebellion and even a major succession crisis like the one of AD 68/69. The Year of the Four Emperors ultimately brought to power Vespasian, founder of the Flavian dynasty (AD 69 – 96) and architect of an intensified pacification policy throughout the empire. These policies were fruitful and strengthened the constitutional position of the emperor, not in the least owing to the fact that Vespasian’s sons and successors Titus and Domitian were as capable as their father. However, their skills did not prevent Titus and especially Domitian from bickering with the senatorial elite over the increasingly obvious monarchical powers of the emperor. In the case of the all too authoritarian Domitian, the conflict escalated again and despite his competent (if ruthless) statesmanship, Domitian was murdered in AD 96. A new civil war was prevented by diplomatic means: Nerva emerged as an acceptable emperor to both the Senate and the army, especially when he adopted the popular Trajan as his son and heir. Thus began the reign of the Nerva-Antonine dynasty (AD 96 – 192). Having succeeded Nerva in AD 98, Trajan once more steered the empire onto the path of aggressive expansion, leading the Roman legions across the Danube to crush the Dacians and establish the rich province of Dacia in AD 106. Subsequently, the Romans seized the initiative in the east, drove back the Parthians and advanced all the way to the Persian Gulf (Sinus Persicus). Trajan annexed Armenia in AD 114 and turned the conquered Parthian lands into the new provinces of Mesopotamia and Assyria in AD 116. Trajan died less than a year later on 9 August AD 117, his staggering military successes having brought the Roman Empire to its greatest extent ever…

[timeless-fanfic]

Hi can you please write about Atticus so the fem reader is a Jewish mother and she’s with her daughter and the Pharisees start to question her

Under Scrutiny

Word Count: 985

Atticus x Reader

The day had started as any other, the sun shining brightly over the streets of Capernaum, as you made your way to the marketplace with your daughter. Her small hand was clasped in yours, and her innocent chatter brought a smile to your face as she marveled at the various stalls displaying their wares.

But as you approached a quieter section of the city, your steps faltered when you noticed a group of Pharisees lingering nearby. Their sharp eyes caught sight of you, and almost instantly, their whispers began.

You had always been cautious when out in public, especially when it came to the religious leaders. Being a single Jewish mother was difficult enough, but their scrutiny over your every action only added to the burden you carried. They viewed women like you with suspicion, often questioning your piety, your ability to raise a child on your own, and your adherence to the Law.

“Excuse me,” one of the Pharisees called out, stepping forward with an air of authority. His gaze shifted between you and your daughter. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Your heart raced, but you held your daughter’s hand a little tighter, trying to keep your composure. “What is it you wish to ask?”

The Pharisee looked down at your daughter, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s not common to see a woman alone with her child like this. Where is your husband? Shouldn’t he be the one to guide and provide for your household?”

The question stung, but you had expected it. You had faced similar inquiries before, always couched in the guise of concern, but laced with judgment.

“I manage my household as best I can,” you replied calmly, your voice steady even as the tension in the air thickened.

“Is that so?” another Pharisee chimed in. “How can you ensure your daughter is being raised properly without the head of the house?”

Your daughter clutched your skirts, her eyes wide as she sensed the growing unease around you. The weight of their disapproval pressed down on you, but before you could respond, another voice cut through the oppressive atmosphere.

“That’s enough.”

The Pharisees turned at the sound, their expressions shifting to one of surprise and, perhaps, irritation. Atticus, a Roman, stepped forward, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

He had seen everything.

The Pharisees stiffened at his presence, clearly caught off guard by his intervention. Though they were powerful in their own right, the authority of Rome always had a way of making even the most self-assured individuals think twice.

“What business is it of yours how this woman raises her child?” Atticus asked, his tone leaving little room for argument. “As far as I can see, she’s committed no crime.”

The Pharisees exchanged glances, clearly unhappy with the interruption. “It is our duty to ensure that the Law is followed,” one of them replied stiffly. “We are simply asking questions.”

“And yet your questions seem more like accusations,” Atticus countered, his voice cool but edged with steel. “Last I checked, raising a child is not a crime.”

You watched in stunned silence as the exchange unfolded before you, your heart pounding in your chest. Atticus had always been an enigma to you—someone who operated on the fringes of your life, a symbol of Roman power and authority. But today, he was standing in your defense, challenging those who had long held sway over your daily existence.

The Pharisees bristled but knew better than to push further. With a few muttered words of dismissal, they backed away, clearly not eager to test their luck with the Roman magistrate any further.

As they left, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Your daughter tugged at your hand, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“Mama, who is that man?” she whispered.

You glanced at Atticus, who now stood beside you, his eyes briefly softening as they landed on your daughter before returning to you. There was something unreadable in his expression—something that hinted at more than just a passing interest in your situation.

“This is Atticus,” you said softly, crouching down to meet your daughter’s gaze. “He helped us today.”

Your daughter blinked up at him, offering a shy smile. “Thank you, sir.”

Atticus gave her a small nod, his usually stern features relaxing just slightly. “You’re welcome, little one.”

Rising to your feet, you faced him, the weight of everything that had just transpired still heavy on your mind. “I... I don’t know how to thank you,” you began, your voice quiet but filled with genuine gratitude.

“There’s no need for thanks,” he replied, his tone more subdued now. “It was the right thing to do.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the bustle of the marketplace continuing around you, but feeling distant. You had never expected to find an ally in a Roman, least of all someone like Atticus, whose reputation had always been one of cold efficiency.

But today, he had shown you something different. A glimpse of humanity, of fairness, in a world that so often lacked both.

“If... if you ever need help again,” he said after a pause, “I’ll be nearby.”

You nodded, still somewhat unsure of how to respond, but deeply grateful nonetheless. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a final glance at you and your daughter, Atticus turned and walked away, his cloak billowing slightly behind him. You watched him go, your thoughts swirling as you processed the unexpected kindness he had shown.

As you took your daughter’s hand once more, you couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there was more to Atticus than you had once believed. And perhaps, in this unpredictable world, there were still those who would stand for what was right—even if they came from the most unexpected places.

[eolas-cruthachadh-and-aislingean]

Greece: culture (pt1)

culture in Greece, Part one. there's alot to unpack so I'm slitting this into 2, maybe even 3 or 4 parts Lmao.

Greek culture had alot of moving parts. “Greece '' itself was a loose collection of culturally and linguistically related cities and were only unified once, under the banner of alexander the great in 336 BC. Greece consisted of hundreds of city-states, unlike many other contemporary societies which ruled in Tribes or Kingdoms. Despite this, they were “one people”: that is, same religion, culture and language. The greeks were also aware of their tribal origins and it was very possible to categorize the city states to their origin tribes. Despite their unity without unification, that aspect of Greece didn't really play into Greece’s politics. Independence of the city-states were fiercely defended and unification was not contemplated, though smaller States were inevitably conquered or absorbed by larger neighbors. The Greeks were, well, Greek, and that was all that matters in terms of being a People.

Because of this, greece was rather fragmented(as previously mentioned). Focus was put on urban centers in otherwise tiny states, and even their colonies were considered independent. And rather than direct conquest, the greeks grouped themselves into groups/leagues, who’s members would constantly fluctuate. Later into greece’s history, these leagues would eventually become dominated primary by larger cities with Athens, Sparta, Thebes being the big ones.

Greek City-states initially were Petty(minor) kingdoms which quickly evolved into Aristocratic Oligarchies(a nation where a small group of people ran the state; a council). To put simply, through each stage, power moved away from one individual and to a group of people as a whole, in this case, the aristocracy. Athens, for example, the kingship had been reduced to a hereditary, lifelong chief magistracy by around 1050 BC and by 753 BC this had become a decennial, elected archonship, with it finally becoming an elected annual archonship in  683 BC. 

It was not uncommon for a Tyrant* to seize control of the government through dominant politics and other means, often through the help of a populist agenda(aka, the corrupt elite would take over). 

Athens fell to tyranny in the second half of the 6th century BC. after the tyranny ended, Athens formed the first democracy as a solution to preventing aristocrats from regaining power. A citizen’s assembly had been present for quite some time for the discussion of city policies, but the poor could not adress the assemly nor run for office. With the change to democracy, it became the Legally recognized or De jure form of government: all citizens had equal privileges to vote. The key word here is Citizens: non citizens or foreigners living in athens had 0 political power whatsoever.

After the rise of democracy in Athens, other City-states began adopting it as their form of De jure(remember, this means legally recognized) government. Except SPARTA wanted to be DIFFERENT. No, Sparta wasn't like the other girls. Through all of this, Sparta was led by a Diarchy: in other words, Sparta was led by not one but TWO monarchs. The two kings of sparta were believed to be twin sons of Aristodemus, a heraclid(descendants of hercules). The power of these two kings was kept in check by a council of elders, and magistrates appointed to watch over the kings. 

Owning land in Greece was decided by citizenship. If you were a free citizen(not a slave), you were entitled to the ful protection of the law in that City-states. Family prominence did nothing for you in greece(unlike in Rome).  In Athens, the population was divided into four social classes based on wealth and it was very possible to move up or down in rank if you made more money In Sparta, all male citizens were called homoioi, or “peers". However, Spartan kings, who served as the city-state's dual military and religious leaders, came primarily from two families.

Small section dedicated to Sparta now, since Athena's has been the topic of discussion up until now. Sparta was unique for its social system and constitution, which were supposedly introduced by the semi-mythical legislator Lycurgus. His laws configured the Spartan society to maximize military proficiency at all costs, focusing all social institutions on military training and physical development. As you can imagine, this Made Sparta’s land military immensely powerful and was in rivalry with the Naval power of Athens. Spartan men were all trained from birth, and women in Sparta enjoyed considerably more rights than anywhere else during this era. Specifically, female citizens were treated with much more power/status and respect than the rest of the classical world. For one, they were literate and enumerate(Gasp!). They were also rather notorious for speaking their mind in public. and while Athenian women were usually confined to their homes, fed differently, and married off at around the ages of 12-13, ladies in Sparta often exercised and participated in sports alongside their brothers, enjoyed the same food, and were forbidden to marry until their late teens or early 20’s. This was primarily done to ensure healthy children(as pregnancy during adolescence is. Not good for you. Unfortunately, Athenians did not suffer the same moral problems as us.) their clothing was also different: Athenian women usually wore concealing clothes, spartan women wore dresses with a slit up the side to allow free movement. (Spartans boys and girls potentially may have exercised in the Nude.) 

Marriage in Sparta was primarily meant to produce children. Because of this(and this is going to sound really weird), Spartans shared wives. No, don’t check again, you read that right. Older men would sometimes allow younger, more fit men to bear children with their wives. While this sounds strange, this practice was encouraged in order that women bear as many strong-bodied children as they could because Spartan men died a lot and were often absent from home, as well as the fact that many infants were killed during the intense inspection for Training. 

*absolute sovereign who came to power without constitutional right, not the modern definition. Tyrant in greece usually had a rather neutral connotation.

Pt2 here

Tags: @aesthetic-writer18

[blueiscoool]

The Rise and Fall of The Praetorian Guard

THE PRAETORIAN GUARD WERE AN ELITE UNIT WITHIN THE IMPERIAL ARMY, SERVING PRIMARILY AS PERSONAL PROTECTORS AND INTELLIGENCE OPERATIVES FOR THE ROMAN EMPERORS.

The roots of the guard can be found during the Roman Republic, when soldiers served as protectors for Roman generals and important figures, or as elite guards for military praetors.

High-ranked generals with imperium held public office by serving as a magistrate or promagistrate. They were assigned a civil servant, lictors, to serve as an attendant and bodyguard. Where no personal bodyguard was assigned, senior field officers safeguarded themselves with temporary bodyguard units of selected soldiers.

Around 40 BC, Octavian, who would later become Emperor Caesar Augustus, installed praetorians within the pomerium (a religious boundary around the city of Rome), the first example of troops being permanently garrisoned in Rome proper.

Members of the guard accompanied Augustus on active campaigns, protecting the civic administrations and rule of law. At camp, the cohors praetoria (a cohort of praetorians guarding the commander), were posted near the praetorium, the tent of the commander, which the guard is believed to be named after.

After the construction of Rome’s Praetorian camp known as the Castra Praetoria around 23 BC, their role extended to escorting the emperor and the members of the imperial family, and to serve as a policing force during times of riot.

According to the Roman historian and politician, Tacitus, the guard around this time numbered nine Praetorian cohorts (4500 men, the equivalent of a legion), however, an inscription from near the end of Augustus’s rule suggests that their numbers were briefly increased to twelve.

The Praetorian Guard, like all legionaries, shared similar insignia, mainly on their shields. Praetorian Guard shields included wings and thunderbolts, referring to Jupiter, and also uniquely included scorpions, stars and crescents.

The first military engagement of the Praetorian Guard took place during the mutinies of Pannonia and the mutinies of Germania. Drusus Julius Caesar, son of Tiberius, accompanied by two Praetorian cohorts, the Praetorian Cavalry, and Imperial German Bodyguards, suppressed the mutinies of Pannonia. Germanicus, later known as Germanicus Julius Caesar, led a force of legions and detachments of the Praetorian Guard in a two-year campaign in Germania against the uprising.

In the three centuries that followed, the guard influenced imperial politics by overthrowing emperors and proclaiming the successor. Members of the guard were also directly involved in the assassination of emperors, such as: Aurelian, Balbinus, Caligula, Caracalla, Commodus, Elagabalus, Galba, Pupienus, Pertinax, Philip II, and Probus.

In AD 305, Diocletian and Maximian abdicated, and the former Caesares, Constantius and Galerius became Augusti. Although two sons of emperors, Constantine I and Maxentius were eligible, they were passed over for a new tetrarchy, and Valerius Severus and Maximinus Daza were appointed Caesars.

Severus planned to disband the Praetorian Guard on the orders of Galerius, resulting in the guard giving their allegiance to Maxentius and proclaiming him emperor. By AD 312, Constantine I marched on Rome with a force of 40,000 soldiers to eliminate Maxentius, facing off against an army that encompassed the bulk of the Praetorian Guard garrisoned in Rome at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge on the River Tiber.

Contemporary accounts record Maxentius’s forces being pushed back against the river and retreating across the bridge. The weight of soldiers fleeing caused the bridge to collapse, stranding elements of the guard on the northern bank of the river who were either killed or taken prisoner.

Lucius Caecilius Firmianus, a Christian author and advisor to Constantine recorded the events: “The bridge in his rear was broken down. At sight of that the battle grew hotter. The hand of the Lord prevailed, and the forces of Maxentius were routed. He fled towards the broken bridge; but the multitude pressing on him, he was driven headlong into the Tiber [drowned].”

Maxentius’ body was fished out of the Tiber and decapitated, and his head was paraded through the streets of Rome. Supporters of Maxentius were eliminated and the Praetorian Guard and Imperial Horse Guard were disbanded. The remaining guard were sent in exile to the corners of the empire, and the Castra Praetoria was dismantled in a grand gesture that marked the end of the Praetorians.

[papastarion]

Papastarion Headcanons Pt. 4

“Roman Empire,” this, “Roman Empire,” that. A man’s obsession with the fall of Rome is a half-forgotten hobby compared to the amount of time I spend thinking about this man and his children.

•I think, given that magistrate is a hereditary title, he probably had some vague inclination that at some point he’d have to have a child or two to keep the title going. But then Cazador happened. And then he was turned. And then there were no thoughts or feelings on the issue for 200 years, not that the thoughts before were ever very deep, or the feelings very strong one way or the other. But once it’s happening, and it’s a tangible reality, he’s head over heels about being a father.

•Per lore, which I take or leave as I please, Mephistopheles tieflings are known for their minds. So, I like to think out of the brood, it’s Mina who takes the magistrate mantle. I can see Astarion getting involved in politics behind the scenes over the years, but her ticket in is definitely through her grandfather, since he still holds his seat publicly and isn’t, you know, believed to be dead. But Astarion teaches her everything he knows.

•He’s the kind of parent to talk to newborns like they’re adults. He’ll carry out entire conversations with his and Thea’s four month old son like he’s talking to Karlach or Gale or Lae’zel. “All I’m saying is that Lady Jannath should know better by now.” *Incoherent babbling.* “Exactly! I’m so glad you understand.”

•A personal favorite headcanon of mine is that Astarion can play the violin and piano and that rhythm and music make sense in that way, but he can’t dance to save his life. But swaying to some music and dancing are two different calibers, you see. He loves when the kids want to dance. He’ll let them stand on his feet and he’ll do simple steps. It doesn’t matter if they’re at home or some big gala either his parents or Thea or an old friend needed his attendance at. He’s a father of few rules, but one of his long-standing ones is that they each save a dance for him at every party.

•He can’t say no if a stray is brought into the house. The usual offender is Apolinary (who grows into a fine ranger, to no one’s surprise), and if is isn’t Apolinary, it’s Eldritch. Astarion always swears the next one will be the last. (It never is, though most get moved to more permanent homes down the road.)

•Always has candy on his person. Thea has a sweet tooth and every single one of their children seems to have inherited it. He learns to save himself and the kids (and his wife) the hassle and always has some sort of sweet hidden away in his pockets.

•Birthdays are a big deal. Each one of them. And they’re family affairs. The old gang all comes as is possible, and they’re just as much involved in the festivities. But Astarion is the designated party planner.

•Would never put the kids down if he didn’t have to. He’s terrible at sharing unless it’s Thea he’s up against. Other than that, that his baby and he’s very much not going to share. Showing them off? Absolutely. Please, bask in the most perfect combination of genetics possible, but you will look, not touch, because he’s clearly not held them long enough. Clearly. 😂

•He’s always curious about what they’ll look like before they’re born. He’s always so intrigued by whether they’ll have his hair or Thea’s single little freckle by their eye, or if they’ll get his (original) eye color.

•One of his favorite little things is that Nero (their firstborn) has lopsided ears. Their kids are the products of an elf and a half-elf, and Nero’s left ear happens to be shorter like a half-elf’s, while his right one is notably longer. Astarion tugs on his left ear as a sign of endearment, to remind Nero that he’s loved how he is.

•As mentioned in a previous edition, Astarion is the bedtime story master. Almost all of those stories are about the heroics of their mother. From gnolls, to rival necromancers (“none of whom had half the skill of your mother, by the way”), to defying gods like their grandfather, Bhaal himself. Thea’s quick to inform their children that he’s quite the hero himself, too. (“I suppose I did become one, didn’t I? Though your mother gives me too much credit. She and our friends dragged me towards heroism kicking and screaming in much the same way we have to drag you lot to the bath after a day of gardening with Jaheira’s lot.” “That may be so, but only one of us has slain a vampire lord by their own hand.” “Ah, true enough. I still couldn’t have done it without you showing me I could, though.” *Queue the kids all ewwing and gagging at their parents being gross and mushy again.)

•One of my absolute favorites (that I really need to write a drabble for, tbh) is that while Thea’s pregnant with Nero, they head back to her home in Neverwinter to deal with a legal feud involving her family (not Bhaal, it’s kind of complicated), and Astarion has a full Peeta Mellark moment during an ensuing dinner/gala (Except there actually is a baby here.) Thea always finds him attractive, but he was extra attractive for that one.

[whencyclopedia]

Rome's Response to the Spread of Christianity

During the 1st century CE, a sect of Jews in Jerusalem claimed that their teacher, Jesus of Nazareth, was the 'messiah' of Israel. 'Messiah' meant 'anointed one', or someone chosen by the God of Israel to lead when God would intervene in human history to bring justice to the world. Jesus was crucified by a Roman magistrate, Pontius Pilate, c. 30 CE for proclaiming a kingdom that was not Rome's. Shortly after his death, his followers claimed that he was resurrected from the dead and was now in heaven at the right hand of God. Those who followed the teachings of Jesus ('Christ', the Greek for 'messiah') would also earn resurrection in the afterlife.

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[e-pistulae]

in today's letter: lepidus' really funny official letter where he excuses a) his army mutinying and b) him. also mutinying? a bit? and asks the senate to pretty please just chill about it and not call it treason or anything

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