caldrail

Domitian had cancelled the campaign to conquer Caledonia fearing that a successful general with a victorious army behind him might get ambitious (Agricola realised the danger he was in because of Domitians paranoia). The Romans then set up a border control zone, usually referred to as The Stanegate, which Hadrian then upgraded to his famous wall. Antininus Pius authorised a campaign to extend Roman influence to establish his martial credibility - it was very import fopr a Roman leader to show he was willing to go to war - but the impetus for the campiagn may not have been his alone. However, the establishment of the Antonine Wall was merely to defend and secure the territory wrested from the Picts. It may not have been intended to remain permanent, and inded, a withdrawal to former frontiers was soon ordered. Bear in mind however that the region occupied up to the Antonine Wall was the same region patrolled and secured by Roman forces, with a few forts established in 'wild country' as 'forward Operating BAses' in modern parlance - which means they were based north of the wall to prevent attacks from forming. As far as I'm aware, after tghe Antonine Wall was built, there were no further forts established north of that, thus the Antonine Wall may well have been considered vulnerable or even untenable as a permanent defense.

At the Charity life went on in a sort of organised chaos. You turned up, sat through a prayer meeting, then got told what your duties were for the day. I suppose I was lucky as I often got scheduled to work as a drivers mate on the company van, collecting and delivering secondhand furniture. A relaxing sort of job. Mostly. Okay, the driver was a bit highly stressed, often losing his temper, and of course the drawback to collecting and delivering furniture is that bulky objects are often heavy and don't always coveniently fit through the gaps provided. I had an advantage of course. Unlike many of the unemployed layabouts drafted to work at the Charity, I've long experience of getting musical equipment in and out of gigs, of long days and nights spent in a van, and even some casual multi-drop delivery work. I also had long experience of helping my father move furniture around the house. Not sure why it was ever necessary, but it gave him something to organise and so I got on with it. So it turned out to be something of a busman's holiday. The weather was glorious, we all had a good laugh in the van (except when the driver got annoyed at somebody), and trundled around the local area visiting houses we never knew existed, meeting all sorts of strange new life and new civilisations, going where vans have never been before. Sometimes you stopped by a huge expensive house to pick up donated odds and ends. All smiles and hearty farewells. Sometimes you delivered to the less salubrious hovels in town, places that haven't been cleaned since 1972, that stink of curry powder, urine, or other strange substances. Sometimes you had to take the door off to get the goods inside. Sometimes you had to disassemble the goods to get them through the door. Failure was never an option. It meant going back to base to face a manager who'd received an angry phone cal about wasted money. It's a funny thing. Life. I trained as an engineer, learned to be a musician, studied various categores of academic knowledge, became a private pilot in two countries, and yet despite all of that I still end up moving furniture around. Struggle Of The Week My fight for sanity in the jobsearching business goes on. Firstly there's Mrs Claims Advisor, who has been programmed by some secret organisation to repeat the same conversation over and over. "I don't why you're not getting anywhere. You're jobsearching is a high enough standard..." Think we might have covered this last week. And the week before that. "Why do you think you're not getting anywhere?" And this week too. So I patiently trot out the same reasons why finding gainful employment has so far eluded me. I'm not being dishonest or looking for excuses, but the reason she wants me to admit to is... Ummmh.... Errrr..... Actually I do know what she wants me to say but she's wrong. Completely. All she wants is for me to be exactly the same as every other claimant who comes before her. Variety, or indeed any form of individuality, is a difficult concept for a claims advisor. The other aspect of my fight for truth, justice, and the employable way us the Job Agency. I might have mentioned them earlier. Never in any sphere of human endeavour has a bureaucracy accumulated siuch a mammoth collection of self serving small minded pedantic pen pushers. Take this example. I look for work on an internet website. Usually you just select the vacancy that interests you, click on a few choices, add a little bit of supportive text, or perhaps answer a stuid question or two, then click on 'Apply'. You sit back and wait for the rejection in anything between two minutes and two months. Easy. However some agencies think applicants should be given more opoortunity to waste time and effort in applying for work, so they disable this easy option and get you to make a phone call instead, in which they tell you that they have a vacncy exactly the same as they advertised and could you please come and see them in their office? So why not just suggest that on the website and save me the bother of paying for a phone call? It gets worse. I asked for the name of the person the advert specified as the contact, which in this case turned out not be a person, but the agency itself. Eventually this confusion was ironed out. Who says I don't have communication skills? Then the lady said "All we have is this furniture warehouse vacancy. It will involve some heavy lifting...Is that what you want to do?" You know what? It was my childhood dream to lift heavy objects. I studied heavy weights at school, and got myself an O Level in Applied Lifting followed by a Degree in Industrial Physics. Ten years appprenticeship as a Manual Load Handler, followed by a fifteen year career of shoving and pushing. I also lift weights for a hobby. No. I'm joking. My CV doesn't say that, and neither did I. In fact I could barely resist laughing as I told her that lifting heavy objects wasn't exactly a career of choice but if it pays the bills.... You could hear her disappointment over the phone. Is she serious?

Stone seats must have been cold 'oop north' on t'Roman frontier...

That merely indicates when the coin was struck, not used. Oh well.

I got drafted. There's no other word for it. David Cameron's Big Society means that I have social responsibility and thus I must accept that occupational contribution, voluntary work, workfare, or whatever you want to call it, is now feature of being unemployed. So I reported to the charity organisation as ordered, only unlike National Serice of previous generations, I didn't bring a sitcase and toothbrush. Not everyone who volunteers gets through basic training. A few listless youngsters faded away over the first few days. The professional malingerer Mr J was there, immedioately claiming that he suffered from this ailment or that, what cruel world world it was, that voluntary work was too lowly for him, or whatever excuse he could think of. And once again, he stomped out in moral outrage, going back to his laid back llifestyle while I and others roisk life and limb in the secondhand furniture trade. The charity I was ordered to volunteer for was a sort of furniture warehouse combined with a cafe. The sort of place whee you can drp in, enjoy a coffee, exchange a bit of banter, and buy some secondhand furniture. The furniture gets donated by all sorts of people, rich or poor, so that people without money can purchase stuff other people don't want. My first day was in the workshop, sanding down neglected garden table and chairs, and then to varnish them. Not with any old creosote mind you, thinned down yacht varnish. Only the best for the financially challenged. Of course it was pointless arguing. The workshop leader was an old craftsman who didn't talk to anyone else and got disgruntled by everyone elses lack of craftmanship. Like mine, as it transpires. So I spent the day mindlessly daubing the table and chairs with none-too-cheap varnish and getting suburnt. Aside from the lack of olive green clothes and some african american sergeant in a slouch hat yelling ayt me to do yet more press ups, the oppressive heat of our flaming July, I might as well as gotten off a bus at Biloxi in the deep south of the USA. All for Queen and country. I'm in the Charity now. Opinion Of The Week I happened to be watching the news channel Al Jazeerah the other day and along came a report about a film festival somewhere out there in the world. There's a strong theme of war films apparently, with no punches barred, covering some controversial subjects. It inspired an interview with someone who spouted this little nugget of ridiculous wisdom... The purpose of art is to force us to face our most painful truths What? That most of us are either talentless or gifted con merchants? Art exists as a form of expression. We can express anything. Romanticism, entertainment, drama, political beliefs, religious sentiment, or simply a statement of ego. If you want to comunicate pain, so be it. Personally I like my landscapes, or those pictures that invoke moods and dreams. I already know the truth of it - that I prefer the escapism, the suggestion that I'm glimpsing a time and place I canot otherwise experience.. But getting back to the point, what do we want to see in a war film? I note that the nastiness of war is becoming the prevalent theme. Camaraderie, heroism - these aren't forbidden subjects but it seems as if they're deeply unfashionable. Why is the world film industry suddenly getting so moral and determined to express political controversy? Is it because there are important messages to be said, or is it because people are bored with commercial stereotype movies, or is the constant barrage of media broadcasts politicising our view of human conflict and the injustices it generates? News reports don't change the world into a better place, so I seriously doubt art is going to. However seriously some artists want to be taken.

So it appears then that the acepted date as in August is from transcription errors over the centuries, whereas Cassius Dio dates it late in the year - consistent with archaeology.

More to come...

You find me in a very reflective mood. It's time to blog again. Not sure why, I guess it's one of those strange inponderables of life. So.... Where to begin?.... The Simpsons has an intro sketch featuring a gag with Bart daubing his lines on a school blackboard before escaping on skateboard, followed by the family gathering to watch tv in novel and amusing variety. Family Guy has the Broadway musical intro. South Park has South Parkesque imagery to tempt the senses and attract those with short attention spans. The Rushey Platt Villa (This blog) has... Well.... this paragraph of text to welcome you to the all new 2014 summer season. Feel cheated? My cliff hanger ending in the previous post was that I had to go back to work. It's true, I did. My claims advsor believed that going on another 'crappy course' (her words, not mine) wasn't going to do any good, so maybe having to earn my benefits might. So she sent me to a local charity to work as a volunteer on a Mandatory Work Placement. Whether I liked it or not. Weather Or Not What is going on? This is supposed to be August. Here in Britain this is the time for country walks along leafy lanes, sitting in deckchairs waiting to scramble some Spitfires, watching a group of men undergo a strange pagan ritual called Cricket, and arguing with the neighbours about loud parties. July pretty much met those criteria for a British summer. The days were long and hot, I got sunburnt in the line of duty as an enlisted charity volunteer, and there were a couple of tiffs with neighbours concerning their desire to get into the mood for a night out clubbing. It seems they bought one of those new fangled soundbar devices that improve bass response that make music and television not just bearable, but an experience to be shared with the whole street. We've had a flaming July, now meet the Arctic August. Temperatures fell to as little as one degree Centigrade last night. One degree? A smidgin above freezing? Somebody got their calculations wrong about Global Warning I think. Bring back the Industrial Revolution - it was the only thing keeping Britain warm in summer and me in gainful employment Gone But Not Forgotten Of course it hasn't all been fun and sun. My mother departed her mortal coil a few weeks ago. To be fair, she was pretty certain to go sooner or later, what with age, infirmity, and that sense that her anchor to the mundane world was slipping. At least she went with some dignity. I must of course spare some thought for the execution of an american journalist. I never saw the video on YouTube (not my kind of fun saturday night viewing if I were honest) but the circumstances don't suprise me. Islamic State have little or nothing to do with Islam - it's all about rule by violence and fear, which if I'm not mistaken isn't what the Quran suggests its readers should do. They are the natural evolution of the radical behaviour that extremists have been nurturing for a long time. As we suffered the outbreak of international terrorism sponsored by political nihilsim two or three decades ago, now we face the outbreak of international violence sponsored by religious nihilism. It is sadly part of the human experience. Every so often a group emerges under a leader determined to build power by becomiing the Junkyard Dog, the King of the Hill. Not so much Islamic State, more like Islamic Nazis. Reminisence Of The Week Okay, I admit it, just occaisionally during July we had the odd shower or two, sometimes a bit thunderous. By good fortune and the foresight to believe the weather girls on telelvision I avoided the downpours. In fact, the onnly serious rain that caught me was on the day of my mothers funeral. She had the last laugh after all Yet despite the doom and gloom of enviromental disasters, wars, inadvertant shooting down of passenger jets, the loss of family, and the occaisional drenching, there is always something about life to bring back the smile. A few nights ago the BBC reached into the archives and pulled out Kate Bush, the waif like singer with flowing dances and high pitched vocals responsible for Wuthering Heights. I'd forgotten what an impact that woman had made on popular music. Listening to the old favourites once again brought back many happy memories of my younger days. I am of course envious of her talent, her ability to express herself musically. For me musical expression is so much more difficult, so many ideas I'm just not able to breathe life into. It all came so naturally to her. An interview with comedian Steve Coogan told how she came to see his show which lampooned her work, and was polite enough to remark that it was good to hear all those old songs again. She's right. It was.

Yeah, same here. I had to guess one (and got that right) but darn it... I need to do some revision badly... No matter, I passed year 10. Woo-hoo! And people said I was wasting my time reading about Romans... Pfah!...

Such an offer in Roman terms would result in an official adoption, a common practicce among Romans where people took on favourite protoeges among their own family. In fact, if there were no senior males in the boys family, then he becomes the official head of the family as soon as he's considered 'of age'. This is of course why the Romans had a ceremony to mark such an occaision, although the eldest male retained authority and in fact even adult males were obliged to observe their 'child' status until the old man passed away, a constant source of frustration in Roman society, even after receiving their toga virilis. A Roman could be an adult, but not a patron until his patron was no more.

Historians habitually divide Roman history into Republican and Imperial periods. Such is the pervasiveness of that categorisation that many simply see the Empire as replacing the Republic when Augustus became Rome's first official emperor. Is that image correct? Not really. Most people have the popular image of a Roman Emperor as some sort of absolute ruler, limitless authority and power, as well as a propensity towward decadence and mental illness. Is that image correct? Not really. The only identifiable absolute ruler after the reign of the kings was Julius Caesar. He was made Dictator, then Dictator for ten years, then Dictator for life, by popular consent. The post of Dictator in Republican times gave a nominated person full ruling powers for six months or until the need had passed. Note the temporary aspect. After getting rid of their monarchy, the Romans decided they would never risk such tyranny again by allowing sole authority. Julius Caesar was unusual in that, whilst publicly refusing to be crowned, accepted the powers of an absolute monarch nonetheless. Popular or not, it got him killed, because while he ruled, no-one else could, even though he did not dismiss the Senate. In fact, Caesar's relations with the Senate do not suggest that he contemplated scrapping the machinery of the Republic. He consulted it constantly on the minutest details of public business. Naturally he was in a position to exercise a great deal of patronage. Introduction (Jane F Gardner) - The Conquest of Gaul (Julius Caesar) From Augustus onward, those getting the top job in Rome were not given such sole authority, and quite often in the earlier part of the imperial period there is a tug of war between Caesar and Senate for power and influence. Those Caesars that let the Senate make decisions generally got treated respectfully. Those that pushed the Senate aside often came to a sticky end. Augustus got a rough ride early on as senators jeered him for not letting them make decisions, but he won their admiration over time. Augustus means "The Revered One". Also, rather than than using the word 'birth', we should perhaps speak of emergence, since the features of the Augustan monarchy that were adopted by its successors took shape gradually, bit by bit, within the Republican institutional edifice. For the Principate was not created ex nihilo, but put slowly into position using existing forms, and following no preconceived plan but, rather, added to and modified according to circumstance... A History of Rome (Le Glay, Voisin, & Le Bohec) There was no clear cut job description for the role of Caesar.. Powers, honours, and status were accorded by the state, not the job, although obviously it was likely that a Caesar was considered a very important person. For instance a ruler might be given the power of Imperium "Military command" (The word Imperator is where we derive the title of Emperor from)., but not all Caesars got that honour. Gordian III was the last to receive it. Didius Julianus stood no chance of getting such an honour from the Senate. Likewise Caesars might receive Consulships or Tribunician powers, or other rights and responsibilities, normally agreed among the Senate. In his Acts and on his coins he (Augustus) stressed that he was the Liberator who had saved the lives of citizens, that he had held no post 'contrary to ancestral tradition', that he had 'transferred the state from his own control to the free will of the Senate and the Romanie', and to those traditional components of the Roman state, the S.P.Q.R., there are many honorific references on his coins. It may seem suprising that in spite of their vigilant Republicanism many members of the Italian governing class were satisfied by what seems to us a fiction. Yet the Romans, although their intense anxiety to preserve everything good in the past made them instinctively averse to open changes, had a fairly impressive record for modifying their institutions when this was necessary. The World Of Rome (Michael Grant) That said, as time wore on the influence of the Senate waned, although such bodies weres still being convened after the last Roman Emperor in the west.. Gradually then the role of Caesar migrated from "Chief Executive Advisor", as Augustus played it, to something more resembling a monarch of old with all the trappings of court and ceremony. (Adapted from content I posted on www.historum.com)

It was official policy and legally enforcable in the first two centuries AD -that Legionsaries were not allowed to marry. Some did, on the quiet, and of course since the sons of legionaries were considered prime recruits, it was generally overlooked, especially after ad100 when legions tended to be posted to one station for a long time. Also tolerance improved with time. I've seen estimates of 60% of soldiers marrying during service (unspecific to period or region), and it appears that from around the reign of Claudius onward the reality of soldiers marrying was quietly tolerated by senior Romans and the laws concerned not normally enforced. It is true that perhaps a larger proprtion of legionaries lived with partners rather than actually married, which rendered their children illegitimate and illegible to inherit citizenship from their father - which I gather was sometimes ignored as well so 'bastard' children might well get recruited into regular legions anyway, irrespective of tradition and law. By the late empire all bets were largely off of course.

Recently I 've seen a tin plated bucket found in a saxon grave in Britain, which was Byzantibne in origin, decorated with greek text (telling the lady owner to take care of her purchase), and in particular, a gladiatorial motif, showing a leopard and a gladiator in combat. The fighter is depicted with a sword, a round shield, and is naked. Now ordinarily I would simply class that as an image of a bestiarius and so forth, but the details of this image are a little odd. Is this evidence that some forms of gladiatorial combat continued past the ban of the lat 4th century? Is this how bestarii of the late empire fought? Or is this a picture celebrating a times gone by (which itself would be unsual for the Romans, they normally depcited life as they saw it)? I confess I'm intrigued. Thoughts, anyone?

It will be back shortly with the block buster opening to the new season.

It depends. If the boy is well connected and popular, perhaps somebody in the settlement would honour him as such. There might be local native customs to consider. However, it's just as likely that the young man would be considered so by necessity and that no coming-of-age ceremony would take place, bearing in mind that such ceremonies are usually (and were so to the Romans), family orientated. He would have to be freeborn for the ceremony to pass with common approval. However, the toga virilis merely celebrates the entitlement of a male to be considered an adult and is honourary - it confers no actual status, and for older men a plain toga is exactly the same. It depends. Her family would be obliged to ensure she was taken care of, and she might well re-marry after a brief period of mourning, as would be expected. She would of course be entitled to the inheritance from her dead husbands will, circumstances allowing. Please note... Lex Iulia de Maritandis Ordinibus (18 BC) – marrying-age celibates and young widows that would not marry were barred from receiving inheritances and from attending public games http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Roman_laws Interesting point. I suspect that we cannot simply divide Roman practises into pagan and christian so neatly. Christianity was never a unified movement in Roman times, not even after the Council of Nicaea in 325 designed to achieve solidarity, and the observance of ritual was partially then down to which sect the worshipper belonged. There would be certain practises, like burial, that were either one or the other. Traditional customs may well have persisted - after all, many of the christian rituals concerning weddings we practise today - An exchange of rings, cutting the cake, carrying a bride across the threshold, and confetti - are actually pagan Roman customs inherited from their republican era.

Talent not required. This isn't a competition or submission for literary awards. Write, share, and enjoy.

Thank you, but lets see other people add their own efforts. How about Aurelia? I'm sure there's a story or two we can all share with forum members

Not so long ago I spoke to a guy from an italian family upon this very subject, about how the italians saw Roman history. The impression I got - admittedly he was a somewhat jaded character himself - was that Roman heritage was a lot of baggage the Italians were not overly keen on. He even suggested there was some resentment against things ancient Roman because of the constant comparisons between then and now. How true is that? Probably there's a certain level of disdain, but I dobelieve like other countries the majority of Italians, even if not specifically interested, are nonetheless aware and proud of that same heritage.

A Game To Remember ================== Ambition can be a costly game to play, so Sestus Maro had been warned before he'd embarked on his political career. This was his first time as Editor of a Munera, the Roman funeral games, officially to honour his elder brother who had fallen in Dacia the year before, but timed to announce his decision to secure a magistracy. Of course the games were hugely expensive, quite beyond his means. Only the wealthiest Romans were able to campaign in politics without debt. The townsfolk of Ceredinum had eagerly gathered in the modest provincial amphitheatre for the chance to be entertained at the hands of professional fighters, the slaying of beasts, and various comedic acts. Perhaps another third had travelled from settlements nearby, swelling the crowd with a lively atmosphere. An anonymous slave attempted valiantly to fill his young masters goblet with wine. Sestus Maro was not paying attention, merely holding out his goblet to expect more refreshment, rocking on his seat as he laughed at the antics of the crowd. Tokens were being thrown randomly to the crowd, promising gifts of food, cash, or slaves, and the struggles of the people to grab one produced almost as much fighting as the gladiators themselves. With his goblet successfully filled against all odds, Sestus promptly lost most of the contents as he guffawed in response to a huge squabble among the townfolk, a knot of angry men of all ages cascading down the seats, all for the promise of a free handout. "Master!" Another slave, Maro's Numenclator, whispered urgently in his ear, "Porcius Pulcher is here". Immediately Sestus cast aside the half empty goblet and rose from his seat to greet his wealthy sponsor. "Quintus! I'm pleased you saw fit to attend." Quintus Porcius Pulcher returned the greeting with a fatherly embrace. He was older, old enough indeed to be the father of Sextus, a grey haired veteran of politics and almost sculpted by exposure to the elements. "Young Sestus, what fool would imagine I would sponsor funeral games and not partake of the thrills? Sometimes I despair of you. I had some last minute business to attend to. And of course, Lucia, who charms everyone..." The wife of Sestus smiled and obliged her husband with a friendly greeting. A Sarmatian by birth, of good family it was said, her swarthy complexion greatly different from the Gallic ladies of Ceredinum. In truth some found her aloof yet her quiet dignity was already proving an asset for Sestus. "You honour me Quintus. Is not your wife with you?" She asked. "Not today, Lucia." Quintus explained with a sigh. "For it would seem I am dogged by scandal.... Yes, it's true, my wife has proven disloyal. Oh come now, I hear the rumours have spread far and wide." "Well, I did hear gossip, Quintus, but I never thought..." "You need not be concerned." He continued, "I discovered this morning that my wife Julia has absconded with a gladiator by the name of Appollodorus." "The retiarius?" Sestus asked quietly, confirmed by Quintus ruefully. He knew full well Julia Pulcher had been less than loyal. She was a difficult woman to ignore. Capricious, persuasive, and self indulgent. Julia enjoyed the risks she took, but to run away? To live as a runaway with an escaped slave? He had never imagine dJulia would take such action, but then, who would? One did not get to know Julia Pulcher, you merely experienced her. "You know for months she'd been visiting the barracks of Rufus Varro?" Quintus carried on, "Who would have thought it? Not just to indulge her passion for a gladiator, but even to train as one. What a fool she's been making of herself and all of us. Shouting and leaping at the practice post like some awkward parody. Can you imagine Julia, fighting for the glory of a palm leaf? Ridiculous." "We're both very sorry to hear of this." Lucia stated in formal sympathy. Quintus smiled, patted her hand, and spoke over his shoulder "You see Sestus? How right you were to bring this jewel back from the East? Anyway, enough of my trials. How are games thus far?" "Better than I had planned", Sestus replied earnestly as a freedman in the audience had the misfortune to fall into the arena. A clown in a lion skin pretended to chase him like a big cat to the hysterics of the audience, until he finally managed to find an opening and escape. With a laugh Sestus continued "Better than I could have hoped. I was trying to rent a certain gladiator but that lanista Rufus Varro wanted a truly extortionate price and wouldn't budge an inch. My commiserations Quintus, but it seems we both know why." "Indeed." Quintus agreed, "No matter. I might be able to assist you further, for I have secured the services of a rather special contestant. An African gladiatrix, Leopardia. Have you heard of her?" Sestus grinned mightily. The prospect of a rare fight between two female gladiators would elevate his games to an event to be remembered. "I have heard of her." "I should think so. The victor of twenty seven fights and dismissed honourably five times. A ferocious woman with the blood of a wild animal they say." Sestus sighed and admited ruefully "But I have no gladiatrix to fight her." "All arranged, Sestus. All arranged. Rufus Varro was only too keen to provide me with a gladiatrix he had been training. He's a greedy man but not stupid. He knew which side of the bread was buttered." "Capua had better watch out." Sestus smiled, "It seems our little town begins to rival them in stature. Quintus, I..." "Can't afford it?" Quintus chuckled again. " Well, I can, and for my young protege, a gift. Two female fighters to delight the crowd. Go on. Announce the contest. I've sent instructions and the two women are waiting. This will be a games to remember! Do it now. The crowd have gotten quiet. They're going to be eating you alive if you don't entertain them soon." "A fight to the first blood then." Sestus suggested quickly, not wishing to appear cruel, nor for that matter, one to selfishly squander the gift of his sponsor.. "Oh no." Insisted Quintus with a strangely cold insistence. Give the crowd the blood they seek. Have our amazons fight for the honour of palm leaves or redemption." Sestus felt powerless to argue. He took a final deep breath, collected his thoughts, and turned to face the audience. With a raised hand he waited for the buzz of conversation to subside. "People of Ceredinum!... I have a suprise contest for your delight!. I call forth... Leopardia of Africa!" The African gladiatrix entered the arena on cue, followed by the referree with his vine staff. She was an exotic sight, dark, oiled, her womanhood at odds with her muscled form. Lifting her sword and shield to prompt the crowd, they responded with suprise and rising levels of anticipation. Shouts of individual wagers began to erupt, men already sensing her confidence and the potential for easy money. An extrovert could be heard proclaiming undying love. Leopardia beckoned her admirer to join her in the arena amid jeers and wolf whistles. The referee tapped the sand with his staff to remind Leopardia to stay professional Sestus quickly turned to ask who the opponent was. Quintus said "Graeculia". The Little Greek Woman? Lucia widened her eyes at the idea, open mouthed at the slur, a direct reference to Julia Pulcher and a deliberate insult to her memory. The contest wasn't just to please the crowd - It was a symbolic punishment of Julia Pulcher's follies. Sestus nodded, feeling somehow this was more significant than he realised. "And challenging the She-Leopard of Africa, from the darkest pits of a Greek slave market, daring to declare herself an equal, Graeculia!" Two burly men escorted Graeculia into the arena, almost lifting the reluctant woman all the way, her expression hidden by the visor of the helmet. Nonetheless the crowd couldn't miss noticing her fear and voiced their derision. Whatever the referee said to her couldn't be heard. His staff was on her shoulder until he'd finished, whereupon he briefly pointed it at her. He urged the two women to quickly salute, Leopardia making a practised formal gesture, Graeculia following with little enthusiasm, the referee stood back and gave a sharp yell to initiate the fight. The crowd quickly became absorbed by this unexpected display. Few voices supported the Greek, and most were watching for the signs of skill and courage. With a few indifferent passes at each other one or two people urged the ladies to get on with it. "Does this fight not please you, Lucia?" Quintus asked. She grimaced and said "Degrading if you ask me. You men get so titillated by these things, you're like little boys sometimes." Quintus chuckled and patted her arm. "It's all for a good cause, my dear." "Oh I know, dearest Quintus." She replied with a knowing glance that suprised even the veteran sponsor. "A very good cause. I hope the Gods favour justice." While Sestus studied the evolving contest, Lucia and Quintus shared a common secret without voicing it. Saying no more, Quintus shifted his weight away and turned to watch the fight as well. Leopardia adopted a florid style, sweeping her sword in wide arcs and pushing her shield at the hapless Graeculia. She was relaxed, patient, letting the Little Greek Woman get back to her feet, and twice, recover her sword. Playing for time, making the fight seem more potent than it should have been, letting the crowd shout praise or insults at every turn. The truth of it was there was little contest, but the skillful Leopardia knew better than to simply slay her opponent. Eventually Graeculia fell upon her back and was too slow in getting up. Even Leopardia could delay no longer, stepping over her defeated opponent to claim a victory, pulling the Greek onto her knees, placing the sword point upon her shoulder, and looking to the rostrum for the decision of the game's Editor. The crowd's reaction was oddly mixed. Many disparaged Graeculia for her lacklustre performance, others praised her persistence. Sestus stood at the front of the rostrum, gauging the crowds mood, more concerned with pleasing them than any real decision on his part. Was that Graeculia's voice calling to him? Was she actually begging for mercy? He suspected so, but couldn't tell. Nor could he easily decide which faction of the crowd held the greater weight. His reluctance to condemn a woman to death spurred angrier voices. The longer he delayed, the less they would think of him. Finally Lucia's patience ran out. She hissed from behind her husband with the least visible sign possible to slay the stupid little Greek. Quintus raised his eyebrows, but nodded when Sestus glanced back for his advice. Immediately the sign for death was given. A female grunt, a dull squelch, and the loser fell honourably to the sand lifeless, her heart pierced from above. Whistles and cheers arose. Sestus could only look down with a compassion he was struggling to understand. With no further comment Lucia left the rostrum with her retinue of attendants. As Graeculia's body was recovered Quintus stood beside his protege and said "Well done. For a moment there I thought you didn't have the stomach for it. A games to remember, as I hoped. Remember also that the story is that my wife absconded with Appollodorus. As for the Little Greek Woman, please ensure she is buried in the gladiators graveyard, where she belongs. We both owe her that much." For the first time a horrible truth was beginning to dawn on Sestus. That was no slave being dragged away to a quiet place where a symbolic figure of the underworld would ensure her end had come and gone. He had ordered the death of Julia Pulcher, dragged from the barracks of Rufus Varro with a helmet to hide her identity, carried into the arena to face execution at the hands of a veteran amazon, brought to judgement by sly conspiracy. Quintus nodded. "Yes. My wife died this day, paying for her fantasies and infidelities. You and I know the truth. So does Rufus Varro, and I believe your wife will make her feelinhs known shortly. Be good to her, especially after..." "That was before I married..." Sestus complained weakly. "I don't want to hear it!" Quintus answered venomously. "A certain retiarius is already dealt with. And the next time you sleep with another man's wife, young man, I won't hesitate to finish the only loose end of this sordid affair. Claim your magistracy and serve the town well. I shall call upon you before long. Well, I must be about my business. Good day to you." Sestus remembered the night Julia claimed him as her victim. An evening of stolen pleasure, one he submitted to in the foolish belief the Gods would look the other way. Now she was his victim. Gone. Nothing more than a trail of blood raked over by arena attendants. Sestus felt used, cheated, soiled by the deed he had been fooled into performing. Oh yes. He would remember.

Do you read more than history. What about Drama? Comnedy? Perhaps you have a story to tell. Post your Roman short story here for evryone to enjoy...

For your perusal I've collated the significant actions of the Praetorians. There may be a line or two missing, especially the less well documented third century. So then... Enjoy... c.47BC - Octavian and Marc Antony divide 8000 troops between them as Praetorian Cohorts. 32BC - Octavian issues a coin in honour of his Praetorians. 31BC - 5 cohorts of Praetorians fight with Octavian at the Battle of Actium. 30BC - Octavian disbands his Spanish Calgurritani bodyguards after Marc Antony is defeated. The Praetorian Guard is founded with 9 cohorts in a symbolic reunification of Julius Caesar's army. Only 3 cohorts are stationed in Rome, the rest dispersed around Italy. 13BC - Length of service for Praetorians set at 12 years. 5BC - Length of service for Praetorians set at 16 years. 2BC - The Praetorian cohorts had been individually led, but Augustus now creates two posts of Praetorian Prefect to be assigned to eligible Equites. 9 - Augustus disbands his German Guard. 12.- Augustus may have raised the number of Praetorian cohorts to 12. He redesignated the last three bodyguard units as Urban Cohorts 14 - Praetorian units and German Guards put down a revolt in Pannonia. 23 - Sejanus concentrates the Guard into a single barrracks in Rome 37/54 - At some point the number of Praetorian cohorts increases to 12. 39 - Caligula leads a Praetorian march in triumph across a temporary bridge of boats in the Bay of Naples. He also took some Praetorian cavalry on a staged skirmish across the Rhine that aroused deriision. 41 - Caligula murdered - Praetorian officers took part in the conspiracy and later set Claudius upon the throne against the desires of the Senate. The German Guard ran riot. 43 - Praetorians follow Claudius to Britain to take surrender of the southern British tribes. 65 - Praetorian officers implicated in the Pisonian Conspiracy against Nero. 68 - Praetorians abandon Nero and sign up with Galba. Galba fails to pay the bribe offered. 69 - Otho bribes Praetorian speculatores to pronounce him Caesar and persuades the rest of the Guard to support him. Galba is killed. The Praetorians defend Otho and are defeated in their first major battle at Cremona. Vitellius disbands the Guard and creates 16 new cohorts. The disbanded old Guard sign up with Vespasian. At the second Battle of Cremona the old Guard defeat the new Guard and Vespasian becomes Caesar. The new Guard and Vespasian's troops form a Praetorian Guard of 9 cohorts. 81/96 - Domitian raised the number to 10 and they stayed at that strength. 80's - Praetorians involved in heavy fighting in Germania and Dacia. 101/102 - Praetorians on campaign in Trajan's First Dacian War. 105/106 - Praetorians on campaign in Trajan's Second Dacian War. 130 - Praetorians follow Hadrian to the Eastern Provinces. 162/166 - Praetorian Guards march with Lucius Verus in the east. 169/175 - Praetorian Guards march with Marcus Aurelius in the north. 178/180 - Praetorian Guards march with Marcus Aurelius in the north. 189 - Cleander orders the Praetorians to slaughter rioters in Rome, and Praetorian cavalry end up fighting Urban Cohorts. 192 - Praetorian officers involved in the plot to kill Commodus. 193 - Pertinax killed by rioting Praetorians. Guard attempt to sell the empire and are replaced by Severus's own men. 197 - Praetorians campaign in Gaul for Septimius Severus 202 - Praetorians campaign in the east for Septimius Severus 208/211 - Praetorians follow Severus Septimius Severus to Britain. 222 - Praetorians get rid of Elagabalus and help install Severus Alexander. The Guard are effectively out of control. 238 - The Praetorian barracks is besieged by angry citizens in Rome. Maximius is killed by his own troops, including Praetorians, for failing to deal with the pretender Gordian. 270/275 - Praetorians on campaign with Aurelius against Palmyra. 297 - Praetorians follow Maximian to Africa. 284/305 - Diocletian may have reduced the size of Praetorian Guard. 305 - Praetorians install Maxentius as Caesar. 311 - Praetorians help defeat the forces of the usurper Domitius Alexander. 312 - Praetorians on the losing side at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge (the bridge collapses under them as they retreat fighting). Constantine permanently disbands the Praetorian Guard and demolishes the inner wall of the barracks in Rome, but the office of Praetorian Prefect survives as an administrative post.

A trial was customary, to observe the law and tradition, but also to show the public that the law will punish the guilty. Trials for lowly people were generally quick (and a foregone conclusion), whereas people of status had every opportunity to indulge in litigation. Even if found guilty, it was likely that the man's reasons for treachery would be demanded at some point, and according to our sources the guilty might well speak out defiantly, justified or not. There is one trial concerning a plot against a Byzantine/Eastern emperor which I believe took place in the 4oo or 500's (I would have to look it up). Once found guilty his eeyes were gouged out, his tongue cut out, his limbs chopped off, and he was paraded arouind the town for the pleasure of the townsfolk until he was set adrift in a boat which was set alight. I doubt every traitor was treated so thoroughly, but that was ceratinly what the Roman citizenry was capable of dishing out for traitors.

The regular legions you mean? The Romans did not have a single national army. But yes, you're right, although it was beneficial for officer ranks rather more than the men themselves. The admibnistrative role was no more than any regular legion, and only performed on a case by case basis, nor was it entirely common. There were Praetorian Prefects who by virtue of their relationships with senators and caesars were given more influebnce or duties than ordinarily expected, but that was always the way of things in the Roman empire - it did not imply any official role. Any Roman soldier of any kind of unit sent to spy was classed as speculatores. It was a temporary designation and in no way infers a man was a 'secret agent'. None of them were a unit or class apart. The first two are correct. Comfortable and relatively safe in their barracks in Rome, enjoying shorter service and better pay and bonuses than any other unit in the empire, and often involved in nothing more arduous than sentry duty at the palace, the Praetorians were the envy of legionaries stationed at the frontiers.... Whilst in Rome their principal duty was to mount guard at Augustus's home on the Palatine.... Other duties included escorting the emperor and other members of the imperial family, and if necessary, acting as a sort of riot police.... The Praetorian Guard (Dr Boris Rankov) Rome had no police force. Some of the praetorian cohorts had been seperated and formed the Urban Cohorts, of which three were designated by Augustus in ad12, whose duties were closer to those of a police force, but even they were not so fully engaged unless necessary. There were no specialist intelligence units in Roman times. None. Period. Any man could see with his own eyes and the Romans were customarily prone to gossip and information passing as a rule. Prisoners might be held by anyone so ordered. Praetorians were not specialist gaolers, and for that matter, no were they specialist interrogators. A man being questioned, particularly with a heavy hand, might just as easily be beaten by slaves. The quelling of riots was not a praetorian duty as such. Riots occurred frequently in Rome and generally blew over before anyone had the gumption to do anything. The more serious riot was perhaps another matter, but only when the safety of the dynasty was at stake would the guard be ordered to act, unless of course there was a political motive for the Prefect to show intitiative - but please do realise that Rome had a ruling against the bearing of arms by soldiers in the city, and to send troops in to quell riots not only broke that rule, it also showed that the Caesar needed soldiers to be taken seriously as a politican with brute force - the mark of a weak man and a tyrant. The were not however a regular legion. There's no dispute that pratrians did at times march on campaign, but please realise that a primary reason for seeking service as a Praetorian was that they did less than ordinary legionaries.

The BBC are a major exprter of television programming. Sorry you haven't seen our creative output but then claiming that the English don't speak English rather proves a lack of observation and knowledge of history and linguistics. It's our native tongue, old boy, not yours.

AAARGH!!!!! No. The Praetorian Guard was a military class composed of amalgamated bodyguard units from the civil wars. They had no official intelligence or administration role. As special forces, they were no more effective than any other Roman military formation and not specifically trained in special duties. It is true that they were also conventiently placed to act as intelligence gatherers, but then so were the hordes of slaves in Rome, it was simply a matter of reporting what had been heard (for favours and career progression of course). In fact the Praetorians were well aware of their special status and service in the Praetorians was regarded as a profitable perk. Sort of, although it must be said that Praetorians probably did a lot less soldiering than other legionaries - one of their perks of course, and that the Praetorians were not as well regarded as you appear to believe. remember that in one instance drunken Praetorians killed the Emperor Pertinax and auctioned off the throne to the highest bidder. Although it was usually the Praetorian Prefect who was involved in political plots rather than the Guard as a whole, it was nonetheless a dangerous faction and had been ever since Aelius Sejanus had them barracked together in Rome during the reign of Tiberius. Sadly, nope. No more than any other soldier was and probably less likely than frontier soldiers. They served in a few campaigns to protect a Caesar campaigning in person, which ordinarily did not happen. They probably took part in as many uprisings as they put down. Their main role was to provide security to the imperial dynasty and places where they did business - security at munera and circuses was not a standard function - they would only be tghere to apply security when the Caesar was at the show. Most spectaculars employed officials to deal with troublemakers but then again, there wasn't much security available anyway. Their influence was no different to other legiosn in terms of political awareness and connivance. However, the commander of the Guard was of course well placed to align himself with a faction and certainly this was common enough - Severus had the entire Guard replaced when he mounted his coup.