The Battle of Marathon, 490 BC

The Battle of Marathon took place in August or September 490 BC, the combatants being the city-state of Athens and the Persian Empire under King Darius. The details are quite well known thanks to the Greek historian Herodotus, although the battle happened several years before he was born. That said, the reason why the battle is best known to history is one of the less trustworthy parts of the account.

Darius was determined to bring the city-states of Greece under his control, having already conquered Turkey and Macedonia, and to that end he landed an army of 20,000 men on the shore of the Bay of Marathon, 25 miles from Athens. The Athenians sent a force of 10,000 “hoplites” to meet them. These were infantry troops, armed with a large shield and a long stabbing spear. 

With the armies in full view of each other, nothing happened for five days as each side waited for the other to make the first move. Eventually it was the Greeks who attacked, advancing at a run and being met by a hail of arrows. 

The Persians were astounded that the Greeks could hope to win given that they had no cavalry nor archers, and at first it looked as though they would be proved right. However, when the battle turned to hand-to-hand fighting it was the Greeks who triumphed.

The Persian ranks broke and they fled back to the safety of their ships, having lost about 6,000 casualties. By contrast, the Greek losses – according to Herodotus – were around 200.

And did Pheidippides run all the way to Athens with news of the victory, dying after his mission was accomplished and bequeathing the “Marathon” to the world of athletics? Well, not according to Herodotus, who described Pheidippides as taking the news to Sparta, which he reached two days later before returning to Athens and not expiring when he did so. It was the much later writer Lucian who gave voice to the generally believed myth.

© John Welford

The Temple of Apollo Epicurius, Bassae, Greece

Although it was built during the 5th century BC, the Temple of Apollo Epicurius near Bassae in western Greece was virtually unknown until 1765 when a French architect happened upon it when he was in the area building villas – he had the misfortune to be murdered by bandits when he went back for a second look. 

The temple has features in common with those of the much more famous Parthenon at Athens, and they may even have been designed by the same architect. However, the Temple of Apollo Epicurius is much smaller, measuring around 38 by 14.5 metres, and it is in a remote location high up a mountain slope, which is why it was virtually lost for many centuries, with only a handful of references being made to it by ancient writers. 

The temple’s dedication to Apollo Epicurius – “Apollo the Healer” – was due to the gratitude of local people who escaped the worst ravages of a plague after praying and sacrificing to the god. 

The temple is notable for several features, not least the fact that it includes features of all three classical orders of architecture – Ionic, Doric and Corinthian. The outer columns (the peristyle) are Doric, the inner ones are Ionic, and there is a single Corinthian column at the centre. The capital of the Corinthian column (typified by the use of decorative stone acanthus leaves) is the earliest example of the order known to exist. 

Another unusual feature is the combined use of limestone and marble in the construction. 

The temple was originally decorated with 23 sculptured plates on the frieze of the Ionic interior, but these were removed in 1812 by British antiquaries. These plates soon found their way to the British Museum in London, where they remain to this day, not far from where the much better-known Parthenon frieze is housed (the “Elgin Marbles”). The frieze depicted battles between Greeks and Centaurs and between Greeks and Amazons. 

There has been considerable argument about whether the Parthenon frieze should be returned to Greece, but maybe the Bassae frieze has a better claim to be taken back to its original home? For one thing, it might be possible to return the plates to their exact original position, which is out of the question in the case of the Parthenon frieze due in part to the destructive influence of pollution in Greece’s capital city. 

On the other hand, the remote location of the Temple of Apollo Epicurius, which is well off the normal tourist trail, means that far fewer people would be able to see the frieze were it to be returned than is now possible in the British Museum. 

The Temple of Apollo Epicurius was declared a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1986.

© John Welford

Izanagi, Izanami and the birth of Japan

Every ancient civilization has its own creation myth – its story about how the world and its own people started out. Given that they are all myths, with absolutely no relation to reality, no one myth can claim precedence over any other.

This is the mythical story about how the island nation of Japan came to be.

In the beginning, there was nothing except sea and sky. A reed grew out of the sea and turned into a cloud, this being the first god. Other reeds then sprouted and became cloud-gods.

The youngest gods were a male named Izanagi No Mikoto and a female named Izanami No Mikoto. 

Izanagi saw no point in just floating above the sea and wondered if he could find something solid to stand on. He plunged his spear into the sea, searching for a point of contact, but was out of luck. However, when he withdrew his spear a drop of water fell back and turned into an island.

Izanagi and Izanami used a rainbow to descend to the island, which they decorated with trees and flowers. When Izanagi thrust his spear into the centre of the island a large palace was created.

The two young gods then decided that they could create more islands. They were inspired by the mating dance of two small birds and realized that they needed to do something along the same lines. 

Their dance consisted of walking round the island in opposite directions until they met again.

Izanami spoke first. “Good day”, she said. “You are a very handsome young man.”

Izanagi replied in similar vein. “Good day”, he said. “You are a very beautiful young woman.”

This was enough to cause Izanami to fall pregnant, and she duly gave birth to her first island child. However, this was nothing like as beautiful and fertile as the original island and the couple had no choice but to push it away into the sea. They sought advice from the older gods as to why things had gone wrong.

“You made a fundamental mistake”, they were told. “You allowed the woman to speak before the man did. Unless the man speaks first, there will always be bad luck”.

So Izanagi and Izanami went through their courtship dance again. This time, when they met after walking round the island in opposite directions, Izanagi spoke first.

“Good day”, he said. “You are a very beautiful young woman.”

Izanami replied. “Good day”, she said. “You are a very handsome young man.”

This time, when Izanami gave birth, she became the mother of eight beautiful islands, which formed the country of Japan.

There is more to the Japanese creation myth than this, involving the births of other gods, the sun and the moon, and the emperors of Japan. However, this story of the creation of Japan does contain one very interesting factor that can be seen in other creation myths including that of Judaism as found in the Book of Genesis. This is the god-given dominance of the male over the female. One can only assume that these myths were first invented by men, not women!

© John Welford

Carthage: Challenger to Rome

There was a time when it was a toss-up as to which burgeoning empire would dominate the shores of the Mediterranean – that of Rome or Carthage. The latter had a head start, being the one of the largest and most long-lived ancient empires before Rome really got going.

Carthage, a port on the coast of what is now Tunisia in North Africa, had the advantage of two excellent harbours and superb shipbuilding and sailing skills that gave the city-state dominance over the whole African coast from Morocco to the border with Egypt, plus most of the islands of the western Mediterranean.

This dominance began in the 6th century BC and was aided by victories over the Greek empire during conflicts that lasted for around 200 years. However, the struggles with Rome turned out to be more difficult from Carthage’s point of view. The Punic Wars between Rome and Carthage happened in three phases between 264 and 146 BC, the final date marking the eventual triumph of Rome.

When Carthage fell, the population was sold into slavery and the city razed to the ground. Carthage therefore ceased to exist.

However, in the first century AD Emperor Augustus founded the city of Colonia Julia Carthago on the ruins of ancient Carthage, and the new city became extremely prosperous and wealthy, just as the old one had done.

The new Carthage fell victim firstly to the Vandals in 439 and then the Arabs in 637, after which it was once again destroyed. It is the ruins of this second city that can be seen today.

There would never be a third Carthage and no need for one after the emergence of the city of Tunis not far away.

The site of ancient Carthage, where ruins including those of the Antonine Baths can be seen, has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1979.

© John Welford

A dinner with Attila the Hun

Priscus, a 5^th century Romano-Greek diplomat, wrote an account of meeting Attila the Hun that conveys a different impression from the generally accepted view of a bloodthirsty tyrant who brought the Roman Empire to its knees. 

Priscus and Attila

The name Attila the Hun usually conjures up an image of a savage barbarian from central Europe who swept across the Roman Empire during its dying days, leaving death and destruction in his wake. It certainly suited Roman commentators to paint him in the worst possible light, given that he posed a credible threat to the civilised way of life that high-born Romans were used to, but were the unflattering accounts of Attila justified?

One account that gave a somewhat different impression of Attila was that of Priscus, a Greek who lived in the Eastern Roman Empire during the 5^th century (his dates are uncertain, but were probably around 415-475 AD). He was a diplomat, a historian and a philosopher. In the year 448 he and another diplomat, Maximin, were sent by Emperor Theodosius II, based in Constantinople, to negotiate with Attila at his palace in Scythia (present-day Hungary). It appears that Maximin did most of the talking, leaving Priscus free to satisfy his curiosity about this race of people called the Huns who were causing so much trouble to Rome.

Priscus was clearly prepared to be open-minded, despite the evidence that Attila could be a brutal tyrant. He had, for example, had a gold dealer called Constantius crucified in a dispute over a consignment of gold dishes. He was now making similar threats against a dealer in silver plate, and this was one of the reasons for the attempt at diplomacy by Maximin and Priscus.

Attila, who came from nomadic stock, was used to moving around and did not stay long in one place, being the owner of many houses scattered throughout his empire. When Maximin and Priscus arrived in Scythian territory they learned that Attila had moved north, so they had no choice but to follow in his footsteps. When they reached the palace where he was they were surprised to be warmly received and were invited to join Attila and his family for dinner.

Dinner with Attila

Priscus wrote of his surprise at the accommodation that Attila enjoyed. The palace was more like a villa than a castle, and the wooden enclosure that surrounded it was “not so much for protection as for the sake of appearance”. 

The dinner was not being held in honour of the Roman delegation, but they were welcomed and treated with every politeness, although placed at the second level of precedence among the guests. 

Attila reclined on a couch at the head of the room, with family members and guests arrayed on either side. He dressed simply and without wearing any sort of adornment, unlike some of the Scythians who proudly displayed their gold and gems.

The various courses were served according to a fixed ritual, with wine being drunk in the form of toasts to Attila and by Attila to his guests, again according to an order of precedence.

Priscus noted that the guests had silver plates and golden goblets, but Attila only ate and drank from wooden plates and cups. Likewise, although the food on offer was both plentiful and varied, Attila ate nothing but meat. 

After the meal was over there was entertainment in the form of songs and a comic act at which the Scythian guests laughed uproariously but which did not produce as much as a smile on the face of Attila. However, when his youngest son came into the room and sat next to his father, Attila paid him considerable attention and was clearly pleased to have him there.

An open-minded account

A modern reader might get the impression from this account that Attila was cold and emotionless, and therefore somewhat sinister. This does not appear to be how Priscus regarded him, in that his behaviour at the banquet was precisely what might be expected from a refined and high-born Roman or Greek. Priscus was clearly impressed by Attila’s modesty and restraint, which he was happy to record for the benefit of people back home who had previously preferred to believe other accounts.

It is always possible that the behaviour observed by Priscus was the result of Attila deliberately trying to copy Roman customs and manners. He was aware that the Roman Empire, even at this late stage, represented the highest ideals of civilized living and he sought to model his life on the standards that he had observed. Whatever the reason for Attila’s cultured and mannered treatment of his guests, he succeeded in impressing Priscus, whose account is admiring without being overblown. That said, Priscus was never in any doubt that Attila was a dangerous man with ambitions that did not bode well for the future of what was left of the Roman Empire.

© John Welford

Kniva, King of the Goths

Kniva was a King of the Goths during the 3^rd century AD who led his people in an invasion of the Roman Empire and had considerable success while so doing.

In 249 he led a massive force of warriors that appeared at the River Danube frontier of the Empire. One column of men ravaged the province of Dacia while Kniva led another into Moesia. He split this force into two, one of which laid siege to Philippopolis and the other, 70,000 strong, assaulted the legionary fortress and town of Novae in what is now northern Bulgaria.

The Roman general Trebonianus Gallus (who later became Emperor) was able to deflect this assault, which persuaded Kniva to try his luck elsewhere. He therefore turned his attention to Nicopolis, which was further south. This move attracted the attention of Emperor Decius who, accompanied by his son Herennius, promptly led an army towards the Danube. Kniva’s force suffered a resounding defeat at Nicopolis and he had no choice but to retreat over the Haemus Mountains and seek to rejoin his troops at Philippopolis.

Kniva was then able to turn the tables on Decius by launching a surprise attack at the small town of Beroca on the edge of the Haemus Mountains. The Roman legions fled in disarray and Kniva was able to press on towards Philippopolis.

Kniva was now helped by the Roman governor of Thrace, T Julius Priscus, who had imperial ambitions of his own and thought he saw a way of getting the better of Decius. However, his assistance to Kniva in the capture of Philippopolis was not rewarded – he was among the thousands of victims of the bloodbath that ensued as Kniva pillaged the cities of Thrace.

By the spring of 251 Decius was ready to launch a further campaign against Kniva. Things went well at first for the Romans, but Kniva set a trap for Decius at Abrittus, midway between the Danube and the Black Sea, in June 251. The ensuing battle was a total victory for the Goths and both Decius and his son were killed.

Kniva was now able to negotiate terms with the new emperor, Trebonianus Gallus, that were highly favourable to the Goths. They were now firmly established in the Black Sea provinces and were able, in 253, to demand more payments of tribute to prevent them from making further intrusions into the empire.

The eventual fate of Kniva has never been made clear, although one can probably assume that he ended his days comfortably enough after leading his people into a corner of the Roman Empire from which they would be hard to shift. 

© John Welford

Theodosius II, Emperor of Rome

Theodosius II, who ruled the Eastern Roman Empire, did so for 42 years, which made him the longest ruling emperor throughout the Empire’s history.

Theodosius was born in April 401, the son of Emperor Arcadius and his formidable wife Aelia Eudoxia, who had been the real power behind the throne and had even had herself declared Augusta.

However, Eudoxia died from a miscarriage when Theodosius was aged only three and his father died in 408, meaning that parentless Theodosius became emperor at the age of seven. This might have been thought a recipe for chaos but that was not to be, thanks to efforts of Anthemius, the Praetorian Prefect, who proved to be an extremely able administrator.

One of Anthemius’s lasting contributions was to strengthen the defences of Constantinople by building a substantial wall across the peninsula on which the city was built. This wall served to protect Constantinople from invasion for the next 800 years and portions of it have survived to the present day.

Theodosius had an older sister, Aelia Pulcheria, who was proclaimed regent in 414, despite being only 15 years old, and she promptly had Anthemius replaced due to her personal dislike of him.

Pulcheria refused to marry but became intensely religious. It was due to her that the Church adopted the cult of the Virgin Mary, but she was also responsible for anti-semitic acts such as the burning of synagogues. Her influence on her brother meant that the empire and the Church became inextricably linked.

Theodosius married Aelia Eudocia in 421, she being Pulcheria’s choice for his bride, but the two strong-willed women soon became rivals. The palace intrigues were encouraged by the ambitious eunuch and chamberlain Chrysaphius Zstommas, with the result that Pulcheria was forced to retire from public life, leaving Eudocia as the main influence on Theodosius.

However, Zstommas’s attention then turned towards Eudocia, who was eventually forced into exile in 441 after a charge of adultery was brought against her. She ended her days in Jerusalem. Zstommas was now the most powerful adviser at court.

But what of Theodosius himself, who seems to have taken a back seat in the affairs of state? The truth is that he much prefered to deal with matters of the intellect, such as founding a university in Constantinople and codifying the laws. The latter effort led to the Codex Theodosianus, completed in 438, comprising 16 books of decrees and enactments that preserved the nature of Roman law.

Theodosius did have to deal with foreign affairs eventually, for example by negotiating a peace treaty with the Persian Empire that stayed in effect for more than a century. He was less successful when keeping the Huns at bay, with the initial policy – promoted by Zstommas – being to buy them off with huge subsidies that nearly bankrupted the treasury. Towards the end of Theodosius’s reign much of the Danube region was ravaged by barbarians, led by the formidable Attila.

Relations between the two halves of the empire improved with the placing of Valentinian III (son of Honorius) on the western throne in 425. Theodosius travelled to Ravenna to crown Valentinian and in 437 he gave his daughter Licinia Eudoxia to Valentinian as his wife.

Zstommas`s failed policy of buying off the Huns at vast expense led to a revolt by the army generals, who overthrew him early in 450, with Pulcheria returning to a position of power.

Theodosius died in July 450 after falling from his horse. He had already stated that a general named Marcian was his preferred heir and, in order to retain her position, Pulcheria promptly married him while still maintaining her vow of chastity. 

© John Welford

Romulus and Remus: mythical founders of Rome

Nobody knows how Rome was founded, but that does not mean that later Romans were unable to come up with a good story. The myth of Romulus and Remus was the result.

Coming up with a good myth

The first Roman historians had very little to go on when delving back into the earliest times to come up with a credible account of how Rome began. There were no written records, and even folk memories, passed down through the generations, did not go back far enough. Instead, a myth had to be invented that would ally Rome’s origins with the Gods. A great city had to have a miraculous birth.

Various legends grew up over time, but the story that was later accepted as the “true” myth is along these lines:

The story of Romulus and Remus

Numitor and Amulius were the sons of the king of Alba Longa, in central Italy, who traced their lineage from Aeneas of Troy. Amulius usurped the throne from his elder brother, killed Numitor’s son and made his daughter, Silvia, a vestal virgin. However, Silvia was violated by the god Mars and gave birth to twin sons, whom Amulius caused to be set adrift in a cradle on the River Tiber. This part of the legend therefore bears a distinct resemblance to that of Moses in the Hebrew story.

As with Moses, the baby twins did not drown but were rescued, not by a king’s daughter but a she-wolf who carried the boys back to her den and suckled them. They were found by a shepherd who took them to his home on the Palatine Hill, where they grew up to be strong young men, named Romulus and Remus.

The shepherds quarrelled with the cattle herdsmen who belonged to Numitor, whose herds grazed the nearby Aventine Hill. Remus was captured, and when Romulus went to rescue him they discovered that Numitor was their grandfather. They killed Amulius and put Numitor on the throne of Alba Longa.

Romulus and Remus decided to found a new city in the area where they had grown up, but they quarrelled as to where it should be, Romulus wanting it to be on the Palatine Hill and Remus on the Aventine. The decision was to be made by augury, in other words according to signs from the gods. As is often the case in these matters, they disagreed as to what the signs meant, and the shepherds made the decision on their behalf, giving the preference to Romulus.

Romulus started to build his city wall, but Remus, who still resented the fact that the new city would be “Roma” instead of, presumably, “Rema”, jumped over the wall before it was finished and was killed by his brother.

The myth of the Sabine women

Romulus’s new city needed more people, so he built a sanctuary on the nearby Capitoline Hill for criminals and runaway slaves, who promptly flocked there. The problem now was that there were plenty of men but hardly any women. Romulus tried peaceful means at first to persuade neighbouring cities to allow some of their women to join the new Rome, but to no avail. He therefore invited the local Latins and Sabines to a festival and, when they arrived, the Romans seized all the young women and carried them off.

Not surprisingly, this led to war, with the Romans defeating the forces of the three Latin towns, but the Sabines proved to be a sterner test. As the battle reached stalemate, thirty Sabine women rushed between the two armies and urged them to stop fighting. The two peoples agreed to form one nation, with Romulus continuing to rule on the Palatine Hill and the Sabine king on the Capitoline and Quirinal Hills. The two kings and their senates met on the plain between the hills to discuss matters as they arose.

However, when the Sabine king was killed in a quarrel that did not involve Romulus, the latter took over as sole ruler, being undisputed king for the next 37 years, after which he was carried off by Mars in a fiery chariot. Or so the story goes!

So there we have it!

Legends are very good at explaining how things started, and later Roman storytellers used the myth of Romulus to give ancient justification to, for example, the organisation of the Roman army into legions. Romulus is said to have divided the people into three tribes, each divided into ten curiae. These thirty divisions were named after the thirty Sabine women who brought peace to the community. Each curia contained ten gentes, each of 100 men who fought on foot. This all added up to 3000 soldiers, or one legion.

Likewise, the institution of the Senate was attributed to Romulus’s choice of 100 elders to help him in governing the city, this number being raised to 200 when the Sabines were incorporated.

There is of course absolutely no proof that Romulus and Remus ever existed, with the first mentions in writing dating from hundreds of years after they were supposed to have lived. The traditional foundation date of 753 BC is also pure invention. There were other foundation stories at various times, such as one involving a character called Romus who was the son of Aeneas. There is archaeological evidence that suggests that Rome was first settled by the Etruscans rather than as a colony from Alba Longa.

It is therefore difficult to ascribe the beginnings of Roman civilization to Romulus and Remus. However, the legend, such as it is, and with elements that have distinct resemblances to myths from other civilizations, particularly ancient Greece, is romantic enough to stand the test of time. The image of the she-wolf suckling the twins has proved to be a lasting one, being reproduced in many works of art down the centuries.

© John Welford

Ramses II, Pharoah of Egypt a.k.a. Ozymandias

Ramses II (an alternative spelling is Ramesses) ruled Egypt for 66 years in the 13^th century BC, making him the longest-reigning of all Egypt’s pharaohs.

Ramses was not royal by birth (which was probably in 1303 BC). His father was a general who became Pharaoh Seti I when the incumbent pharaoh died without leaving an heir. Ramses inherited the throne on his father’s death in 1279 BC.

Ramses is noted for his military campaigns, primarily against the Hittites, and for his building programme. As a general, his feats may have been exaggerated by the scribes of his time, but he certainly appears to have reversed earlier territorial losses and to have extended the Egyptian Empire into Canaan. His capture of Canaanite princes, who were then taken as prisoners to Egypt, may have been the origin of the story told in the Book of Exodus of the slavery of the Israelites and their escape led by Moses.

It is as a builder of cities and monuments that Ramses is most renowned. He built a new capital city named Pi Ramesse Aa-nakhta, which translates as “House of Ramses Great of Victories”, although little can be seen of this city today.

The same cannot be said of the large number of statues of himself that were constructed across Egypt. These include the four massive statues at Abu Simbel and his memorial temple at Luxor, the Ramesseum.

It was normal for Egyptian pharaohs to have several names, and one of those held by Ramses II was Usermaatre, which was later corrupted to Ozymandias. This is the title of a famous poem (a sonnet) by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822), in which a broken statue of Ozymandias is found in the desert and the poet mocks the fact that time and the forces of nature have put the power of the subject of the statue into context. The inscription “Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair” is absurdly inappropriate.

However, maybe Shelley was more than a little unfair to Ramses, given the beliefs that were held in ancient Egypt. Ramses may have been guilty of self-glorification, but the main reason for having images of oneself created was to ensure one’s future in the afterlife. A human soul could only go to the “Kingdom of Osiris” if the body survived, and that could be achieved both by mummification and by having images preserved in the form of statues. The more of the latter there were, the better one’s chances.

When Ramses II died at an advanced age in 1213 BC the mummification of his body took 70 days. It would appear that the embalmers did a particularly good job, because in June 1886 a French archaeologist opened the bandages on Ramses’ mummy and revealed the well-preserved face of an old man with red hair. Ramses II is now an exhibit in the Cairo Museum, more than 3,000 years after his death. Whether or not his soul is enjoying the delights of the Kingdom of Osiris is a matter for speculation!

© John Welford

Peleus in Greek mythology

Peleus is not as well known a character in Greek mythology as, say, Heracles or Theseus, but he is of interest in that he provides a link between two of the major stories, namely those of the Golden Fleece and the Trojan War. However, it is important not to confuse Peleus with Pelias, who was the king who sent Jason off on his quest for the Golden Fleece.

Peleus is mentioned in several ancient sources of Greek myths, including writings by Homer, Hesiod, Apollodorus, Diodorus, Pausanias and Ovid, so it is not surprising that there are variations between the different accounts. There are also confusions caused by writers who, in attempting to tell a good story, and to link certain heroes to wider events, get things mixed up, thus making it impossible to give a biographical account of a particular character that is consistent with other stories. It is therefore only possible to relate a series of stories that are associated with a character, as these may be correctly ordered according to one writer but not another.

Peleus is mentioned as being the son of Aeacus and Endeis, Aeacus being the king of Aegina (a rocky island) and a son of Zeus. Peleus had a full brother named Telamon and a half-brother named Phocus. Out of jealousy at Phocus’s superiority at military games, the brothers murdered him and hid his body. However, they were found out and expelled from Aegina.

Peleus fled to Phthia in Thessaly where he was purified from his crime by King Eurytion and married his daughter Antigone, her dowry being a third of Eurytion’s kingdom.

One story relates that Peleus, being on his own during his exile from Aegina, prayed to Zeus for an army and Zeus changed a swarm of ants into men, these being known as Myrmidons. However, this story is also told about how Peleus’s father, Aeacus, had gained an army in his own youth, so there could be some confusion here.

An Argonaut, and the Calydonian Boar

If one is to make sense of the narrative timing, it must have been at this point in Peleus’s life that he was chosen by Jason as one of the fifty Argonauts to set off on the quest for the Golden Fleece. Given that the list included Heracles and Theseus (according to some accounts) it seems strange that Peleus and his brother should have been regarded as heroes by Jason, especially as they had committed a cowardly murder, been found out and exiled, apparently having no other claims to fame.

Be that as it may, Peleus set sail in the Argo and underwent many adventures as part of Jason’s quest. He is mentioned in the story of the death of Idmon, who was gored by a huge white-tusked boar, after which Peleus threw his spear at the boar.

However, it is possible that this story has become confused with that of Peleus’s later adventure as a member of the group of heroes who went on the quest to kill the Calydonian Boar. This was a monstrous animal that had been sent by Artemis to ravage the countryside of Calydon because King Oeneus had neglected to offer a sacrifice to her.

Meleager, the son of Oeneus, had been one of the Argonauts, and on his return he gathered together a group of warriors, including a number of fellow Argonauts, to hunt the boar. Peleus was one of them as was Eurytion of Phthia. During the fight with the boar, Eurytion was accidentally killed by a spear thrown by Peleus. One can see why the stories involving boars, spears, accidental deaths and Peleus might have become intermingled.

According to some accounts, Peleus was now the undisputed king of Phthia. However, it is also related that he was forced to flee from Phthia and sought refuge at Iolcus, where he was purified by King Acastus. However, Acastus’s wife, Astydamia, took a fancy to him and tried to seduce him. Peleus rejected her advances and, out of spite, Astydamia pretended to Acastus that Peleus had made advances to her. She told a similar story to Antigone, Peleus’s wife, who then hanged herself.

Acastus believed her story but was unwilling to have Peleus executed. Instead, he took him on a hunting trip to Mount Pelion, waited until he fell asleep with exhaustion, and abandoned him there, hiding his sword so that he would be defenceless against any wild beasts that might happen to pass.

When Peleus woke up and started to look for his sword, he was attacked by a group of centaurs, who lived on Mount Pelion, only being saved by the intervention of Chiron, who was not only the wisest and most civilised of the centaurs but also happened to be Peleus’s maternal grandfather.

Peleus and Thetis

The story now turns to the marriage of Peleus and Thetis, who was a sea nymph and one of the many daughters of Nereus, also known as the Old Man of the Sea. She was exceptionally beautiful and desired by both Zeus and Poseidon. However, Zeus’s second wife, Themis, who laid down the rules on Mount Olympus and ensured good order, declared that Thetis would produce a son who would be greater than his father. This was the signal for Zeus and Poseidon to back off and seek a mortal suitor for Thetis, Peleus being their choice.

Thetis was not too pleased with the news that she was to be the wife of a mortal and did everything she could to escape Peleus’s advances. Being a sea nymph, this was quite a lot. She had the ability to shape-shift into just about anything she liked. The list given by the various accounts includes a tiger, a bird, a cuttlefish and a snake, as well as even less tangible manifestations such as wind, water and fire.

Peleus consulted Chiron who advised him that he should wait by the water’s edge and grab her as she emerged. She would eventually get tired of her changes and give in to him, which is indeed what happened.

The wedding of Peleus and Thetis took place on Mount Pelion and just about everybody was invited, including the full complement of major and minor gods. As this was to be a happy occasion, it was decided to leave Eris, the goddess of strife, off the guest list as she was bound to cause trouble. In the event this proved to be a big mistake, because she turned up anyway and was determined to live up to her billing. She threw into the middle of the feast a golden apple inscribed “For the Fairest”, and three of the goddesses present immediately laid claim to it.

Thus Hera, Athene and Aphrodite were able to set in train the events that would lead to the Judgement of Paris and the Trojan War. The moral of the story is clearly that one should be very careful about who gets invited to the wedding and who does not, although 10-year wars do not usually result from getting this wrong.

However, inviting such distinguished guests did have its advantages, because the wedding presents were definitely above average. They included two immortal horses, courtesy of Poseidon, a suit of armour, and a lance made by Chiron, polished by Athene and tipped with a blade made by Hephaestus.

Peleus and Thetis had a very famous son, Achilles, who did indeed achieve greater things than his father. There are various accounts of how Thetis tried to make her son immortal, one of them being that every night she burned away the mortal parts of the infant’s body and replaced them with ambrosia. She had already killed her previous six children by this method, but was convinced that she would get it right eventually. However, Peleus discovered her one night and forced her to stop. She then abandoned them both and went back to live in the sea.

Peleus sent Achilles to be educated by Chiron, and he was later to be recruited by Odysseus to fight in the war of which his parents’ wedding feast had been the initial cause, making good use of his father’s wedding presents. You might wonder whether a child of the marriage that started the Trojan War might be a tad young to fight in the same war, but this is Mythology after all!

Another story told of Peleus is that he returned to Iolcus and killed Astydamia. Another is that Psamathe, the mother of Peleus’s half-brother Phocus, sent a wolf to ravage Peleus’s flocks but was persuaded by Thetis to turn the wolf into stone.

Peleus is therefore one of the more “involved” characters in Greek mythology who plays relatively minor parts in the stories of a number of more important personalities. Keeping tabs on Peleus is almost as difficult as doing so on his slippery wife Thetis!

© John Welford

The Pont du Gard, Nimes, France

The Pont du Gard is a remarkable survivor from a previous age. Built nearly 2,000 years ago it does not look very different today than it did when first built by the Romans during the first century of the Christian era. 

The Pont du Gard was built as an aqueduct to cross the River Gardon near the Roman city of Nemausus (modern Nimes in southern France). It was part of a system of canals that brought water to the city from springs 50 kilometres away. The system was carefully calculated so that the water flowed downhill at a constant gradient of 1:3000, given that the springs were only 17 metres higher than the city.

This meant that the aqueduct crossing the River Gardon had to do so at a height of 49 metres (161 feet). The result was a three-decker structure that needed to be carefully designed and built. This would have been an engineering challenge even today, with all the modern materials, computers and techniques currently available. The fact that the Roman engineers were able to solve the problem without such aids makes the final result all the more amazing.

The construction was designed to minimise the strains caused by the massive weight of the masonry. The lowest level consists of six arches that are 22 metres high and six metres wide. Resting on top, but extending further due to the lie of the land, is the second level that has 11 arches that are four metres wide.

The highest level is the water channel itself. This comprises 35 small arches and is seven metres high and three metres wide. The length of this third level is 275 metres (900 feet).

The Pont du Gard was built from limestone blocks that each weigh up to six tons. They were assembled without the use of mortar and therefore had to be perfectly shaped to fit their neighbours. One special technique the builders used was to alternate the courses of stone in terms of the direction in which the blocks were laid. A row of “headers” was laid on top of one of “footers” rather than headers and footers alternating within the same row. This meant that friction could be used to provide extra binding strength to the structure.

The aqueduct took about three years to build and would have needed a workforce of around 1,000 men using simple tools. The blocks would have been raised into place with a block and tackle system powered by treadmills.

When complete, the Pont du Gard would have transported around 20,000 cubic metres of water every day. It continued to do so for the next 300 years, but during the 4^th century it began to fall into disrepair. Even so, water flowed across the bridge until the 9^th century when it became completely blocked by silt. 

The Pont du Gard functioned as a footbridge as well as an aqueduct, and in the late 17^th century it was decided to widen the bridge by shearing some of the stone off the pillars of the middle level. This proved to be a mistake because it looked for a time as though the whole structure might collapse. Repairs had to be made and an extra footbridge was added alongside the original low level in 1747. Further restoration work was done during the 19^th century.

Today, visitors can cross the Pont du Gard via the 18^th century footbridge and admire the engineering and workmanship of the original builders. It is hardly surprising that the Pont du Gard became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1985.

© John Welford

Valentinian I, Emperor of Rome

The reign of Valentinian I marked a new stage in the decline of the Roman Empire, namely one in which emperors reigned but did not necessarily rule. Power was staring to ebb away from the person who was nominally in charge and towards the civil servants and officials who were increasingly making the important decisions.

Valentinian was born in 321 in what is now Croatia. Like his predecessor Jovian, he was a middle ranking army officer who was unexpectedly chosen to be Emperor. In Valentinian’s case this happened when Jovian was found dead in bed one morning, possibly poisoned by fumes from an ill-ventilated coal fire.

Valentinian was by no means the first choice of the general staff, who spent around a week mulling over several candidates before making the decision and offering him the job. It was not long before Valentinian realized that this was such a huge responsibility that he could not take it on alone and asked for his younger brother Valens to be made co-emperor alongside him, which was agreed, with Valentinian being in charge of the western empire and Valens of the eastern half.

Real power at this period of the empire’s history belonged to local bureaucrats, so that emperors were obliged to negotiate with various power structures that pretended to act as representatives of central government. The last thing that these local rulers wanted was effective imperial interference, and Valentinian and Valens were just the men who fitted the bill from their point of view.

Not surprisingly, this sort of hands-off rule allowed corruption to flourish at a local level, given that officials knew that they were unlikely to be held to account for activities that feathered their own nests.

One such example arose in North Africa at the start of Valentinian’s reign when Romanus, a long-serving military commander, refused to come to the aid of a city that was under attack because the inhabitants would not pay the huge bribe that he demanded from them. Romanus was able to get away with it and escape justice for the whole of Valentinian’s 11-year reign.

Evidence of where power really resided – i.e. not with the emperor – came when Valentinian fell seriously ill in 367 and the question arose of who might succeed him should he die. Two factions within the imperial court debated the matter between themselves without consulting either Valentinian or Valens.

In earlier times that would have been regarded as treasonous conspiracy and heads would certainly have rolled when – as indeed happened – the emperor recovered his health and learned what had been going on. However, nobody was punished. The net result was that Valentinian felt constrained to name a successor, who was his son Gratian, then aged 8.

Valentinian’s main problem was in dealing with barbarian revolts and incursions. In Britain there was trouble from tribes north of Hadrian’s Wall – aided by the Scotti from Ireland – and in the south the Romans had to deal with warlike Saxons and Franks. These proved to be relatively minor problems that local commanders were able to solve without too much difficulty.

Greater threats were posed by tribes in the Danube region, notably the Alemanni, Sarmatians and Quadi, and Valentinian met his end in dealing with the third of these tribes, although not on the battlefield. In 375 a delegation from the Quadi sued for peace in a face-to-face meeting with the emperor. The complaints they made about Roman behaviour annoyed Valentinian to the extent that he flew into a violent rage that led to a fatal stroke.

Valentinian’s brother Valens was still ruling over the eastern empire, where he had plenty of problems of his own to contend with. Valentinian’s son Gratian, now aged 16, was just about old enough to take up the reins of power in the west, but he found himself having to share them with an even less likely candidate for the job, namely Valentinian’s other son, by his second wife, who was also named Valentinian but had only reached the age of five!

© John Welford

Trebonianus Gallus and Aemilianus, Emperors of Rome

The years 251 to 253 have been reckoned as among the worst in the whole of Roman imperial history. This was a time of utter chaos, when major cities were sacked by invading tribes, armies were destroyed, and emperors came and went with considerable rapidity.

This article concerns two such emperors, of whom relatively little can be said because they emerged from nowhere and played only minor roles in the story of Rome’s sorry decline.

Trebonianus Gallus

Emperor Decius was killed at the Battle of Abrittus in June 251, the enemy being an invading army of Goths. He had previously indicated that his preferred successor was Publius Licinius Valerianus, but it was Gaius Vibius Trebonianus Gallus who was declared emperor when the time came.

Born in about the year 206, of aristocratic stock, Trebonianus Gallus had been governor of the province of Moesia Superior, which was one of the provinces being threatened by the Goths. He appears to have been a loyal and trusted follower of Decius, and a perfectly suitable successor. Valerianus (usually known as Valerian) seems to have accepted the situation and not to have been anxious to challenge Gallus for the throne. Given the track record of emperors of the time – in terms of short reigns and violent deaths – this was understandable.

The first act of Gallus as emperor was to conclude a peace treaty with the Goths. His second was to adopt the younger son of Decius to rule jointly with him, but this plan fell through when the young man died of the plague soon afterwards. Gallus then appointed his own son, Volusianus, to fill this position.

Trebonianus Gallus’s short reign was marked by a continuation of Decius’s persecution of the Christians, although this was not pursued with any great energy and consisted of expulsions rather than executions, and further efforts to defend the empire from barbarian incursions, which was by far the more pressing problem.

The troublesome tribes included the Franks and the Alemanni, the latter of whom managed to cross the Rhine and pillage as far as Spain before heading for home. In 252 the Goths claimed that the Romans had not fulfilled their side of the peace treaty and resumed their attacks in Greece and Asia Minor. They launched seaborne attacks from the Black Sea, burst through the Dardanelles and sacked a number of cities around the Aegean, including Ephesus.

The Sassanids also made a reappearance, with Shapur advancing up the Euphrates and crushing a Roman army at Barbalissos (northern Syria) in 253.

Rome and its emperor were in deep trouble.

Aemilianus

Marcus Aemilius Aemilianus was born in around 207, probably in Libya and of Moorish stock. As a general he had a measure of success in countering the Gothic incursions in the Danube region, and was considered by his troops to be a better bet than Trebonianus Gallus. They therefore declared him to be emperor and he set out towards Italy to stake his claim.

Gallus called on Valerian, who was commanding troops on the Rhine, to come to his aid, but he was too late. Gallus was killed by his own troops in August 253 before Valerian arrived.

Aemilianus may now have thought that he was home and dry, as long as he could see off the army led by Valerian when it turned up. However, the troops that had acclaimed him on the Danube had second thoughts now that they were in Italy. Valerian looked to be a much more acceptable prospect as emperor, and he was also likely to be approved by the Senate, which was not the case with Aemilianus.

Aemilianus therefore suffered the same fate as Trebonianus Gallus, just one month later.

© John Welford

The Tetrarchy from Diocletian to Constantine: Emperors of Rome

Emperor Diocletian decided to retire in April 305, assuming that the system for sharing imperial authority that he had set up would continue along the same lines. However, things did not run as smoothly as he had hoped.

Diocletian had split the empire into twelve “dioceses”, with each of four “tetrarchs” running three of them apiece. He and Maximian were the two senior tetrarchs, with Constantius and Galerius being subservient to them. Diocletian’s plan was for Maximian and himself to retire at the same time, with Constantius and Galerius moving up to fill the senior positions (“Augusti”) and two new men being appointed to be junior emperors (“Caesares”).

The original thought had been that the sons of Constantius and Maximian, namely Constantine and Maxentius respectively, would be the new Caesars, but Diocletian changed his mind on this. He subsequently announced that the new junior emperors-in-waiting would be a general named Flavius Valerius Severus and Maximinus Daia, who was a nephew of Galerius.

The problem was that not all the new men who took office on 1^st May 305 were content with what Diocletian had decreed. In particular, Constantius was annoyed that his son Constantine had been excluded from the succession.

It was not long before this source of dissent turned from being a potential problem to an actual one. Constantius was responsible for Britain and it was while he was in Britain in July 306 that he died at Eboracum (York). The army, presumably following the expressed wish of Constantius, declared Constantine to be the new emperor.

Meanwhile Maxentius, who was the other man to lose out when Diocletian changed his mind about the succession, refused to let matters lie and claimed the position that Diocletian had assigned to Severus. His father Maximian gave him his support, which was essential in deciding the issue because the army, which had served under Maximian, refused to back Severus who was imprisoned and eventually killed.

In 307 Galerius invaded Italy, hoping to defeat Maxentius and restore the arrangement that Diocletian had decreed. Constantine refused to take sides and Rome, protected by the walls erected 30 years previously by Aurelian and Probus, proved to be capable of withstanding a siege. Galerius had no choice but to withdraw.

On the other hand, Galerius did have a powerful friend to call upon for help, namely Diocletian who was quietly growing cabbages on his estate at Split (in modern Croatia). A conference was called in 308 at Carnuntum (in modern Austria), under the chairmanship of Diocletian, at which it was agreed that Constantine could continue to rule the regions he already controlled and Galerius would continue as the other senior emperor. A new junior emperor was appointed to replace Severus, this being a general named Licinius.

With civil war avoided, Diocletian went back to his vegetables and Galerius was happy to be recognized as the most powerful person in the empire. Unfortunately for him, he only lived to enjoy this status for another three years, dying of natural causes (a very nasty case of bowel cancer) in May 311.

The surviving emperors, who now all regarded themselves as Augusti rather than Caesares, then divided into two factions, Maximinus allying himself with Maxentius and Constantine with Licinius. One result of Diocletian’s reforms had been that the army, as well as the government, had split into what were virtually independent camps that were loyal to one or other of the tetrarchs. The result was that each of the four men controlled roughly equal forces, so any power struggle was likely to result in a highly destructive civil war.

In the event, the struggle boiled down to a contest between Constantine and Maxentius. Constantine was a strange character who exhibited a range of personality traits, one of which was a deep belief in divine intervention. The question was, which god to trust? He had long been a devotee of Sol Invictus – also known as Elagabal, the Syrian sun god who had originally been introduced to Rome by Elagabalus and then re-introduced by Aurelian. Constantine now decided to place his trust in the Christian god.

The story of Constantine’s conversion has become a legend, not least because of the profound implication it would have for the growth of Christianity as well as the later history of the Roman Empire. The truth of what happened is less easy to ascertain. However, the fact remains that Constantine was able to defeat Maxentius, and he ascribed his victory to what he termed the “Divine Mind”.

After the final battle with Maxentius at the Milvian Bridge on 28^th October 313, at which Maxentius was killed, Constantine was clearly the most dominant figure in Roman politics, and the Tetrarchy, such as it now was, was no longer a government by equal parties. 

© John Welford