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The Back-And-Forth Battles Between Rome And The Aequians Over Bolae

In 418 BCE, Rome defeated an allied force of Aequians and warriors from Labici, then subsequently sacked the city of Labici and turned the devastated region into a Roman colony. The Aequians, and another one of their allied cities called Bolae (or Bola), watched the colonization of Labici with increasing concern. In Bolae, the proposal of launching raids against the new settlers in Labici was popular. Yet, the Aequians were hesitant to resume war so quickly after their recent defeat. Bolae, unfortunately, disregarded the concerns of their stronger partner, and around the year 415 BCE, they started raids against Roman settlers in Labici without Aequian help. In Rome, the harassment of their colony was not taken lightly, and the republic responded by declaring war on Bolae. As Roman troops marched toward the city, the defenders would soon learn how seriously the Aequians were entrenched against seeking battle with Rome at that time. The leaders of the Aequians decided not to save Bolae, ultimately leaving the gung-ho city to face the Romans alone. The Roman historian, Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE), described the ensuing war, writing, “no [Aequian] support came, and after a campaign almost too trivial to mention, consisting as it did of a siege and one small battle, they [Bolae] lost both town and lands” (The History of Rome, 4.49).

After their quick victory, the Roman Republic considered sending settlers to repopulate the region of Bolae, but as they were already trying to start up a colony in Labici, they opted to leave the recently conquered city in ruins. This abandoned tract of free real estate, however, was not ignored by the Aequians, who quickly sent settlers and warriors to occupy the region.  With this inflow of manpower, Bolae was revived to become stronger than ever. Before long, the growing Aequian activity in Bolae became too dangerous for the Romans to ignore. In 414 BCE, the Roman Republic once again declared war on Bolae and sent an army, under the command of Marcus Postumius Regilensis, to wipe the troublesome settlement out of existence once and for all.

Postumius’ campaign was an odd experience. He reportedly pushed the Aequians out of Bolae with little difficulty—the defenders, and the relatively few settlers they were guarding, apparently decided to withdraw back to Aequian territory after only a few skirmishes. The retreating Aequians also took with them any valuables that they had brought with them to Bolae. Therefore, when the Romans retook the fortress, all that the victorious forces gained were ruins that had already been picked clean from the previous conquest of the region. Furthermore, even the land that the Roman warriors risked their lives to reconquer was a monopolized commodity that the affluent members of the Roman Senate were loath to share with the common masses. For the average member of the Roman army, this meant that they had just put their lives on the line for a campaign that brought them no loot and no land. As the story goes, this realization caused an uproar in the ranks, and according to Livy, Postumius was stoned to death by his angry troops. Curiously, instances such as this led to military reforms in Rome by the end of the 5th century BCE, including wages for the members of the Roman military to make them less dependent on pillaged loot.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Scene inspired by the life of Publius Cornelius Scipio, painted by Giovanni Bellini (circa 1430 –1516), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

 

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Ambush of King Cynewulf of Wessex, by Richard Caton Woodville, Jr. (c. 1856–1927)

This action-packed illustration by Richard Caton Woodville, Jr. (c. 1856–1927) depicts the downfall of King Cynewulf of Wessex. He seized the throne of Wessex by deposing (and then killing) his kinsman, Sigebert, in the year 757. He went on to have a decades-long reign, but his rule was plagued by a bitter feud with Cyneheard—an angry brother of the aforementioned Sigebert, whom Cynewulf had murdered and replaced. As the story goes, Cyneheard waited years for the opportune moment to have his revenge. The time came in 786, when Cynewulf made the mistake of separating from most of his guards and military to see a mistress. Cyneheard and a band of supporters attacked the king of Wessex at that awkward moment, yet the few guards that had accompanied their liege to the home of the mistress put up a good fight, allowing Cynewulf to arm and armor himself. The illustration above depicts the odd moment when the king caught sight of Cyneheard and charged out to fight his opponent. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle described the dramatic scene, stating, “And when the king perceived that [he was under attack], he went to the door, and then gallantly defended himself, until he looked on the ætheling [Cyneheard], and then rushed out on him, and sorely wounded him; and they were all fighting against the king, until they had slain him” (Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, entry 755). Cyneheard did not enjoy his victory for long, as he too was killed when Cynewulf’s nearby army arrived on the scene. For a more detailed article on the reign of Cynewulf, click HERE.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

  • The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by Benjamin Thorpe in 1861 and republished by Cambridge University Press, 2012.

Livy

Livy (59 BCE-17 CE)

“Civil war is hardly a good weapon for repelling an invader; and were we to be faced with both at once, God himself would hardly be able to avert our total destruction. Why cannot each party yield a point and agree upon a compromise.”

  • The History of Rome (Book 4, chapter 43) by Livy, translated by Aubrey de Sélincourt. New York: Penguin Classics, 2002.

The Drug-Fueled Assassination Plot Against The Royal Family Of Austrasia

Around 585 or 586, two suspicious individuals were arrested in the city of Soissons by Duke Rauching, one of the most talented manhunters of the century, who had caught many a criminal and renegade nobleman in his chains. The men he placed in custody were dressed like beggars or clerics, but they carried suspicious daggers and had vials of unidentified drugs and potions. The liquids inside these confiscated containers were in no way holy water or chrism oils, and the daggers seemed specially made to have grooves in the metal for poison.

Duke Rauching began torturing the would-be clergymen, and extracted incriminating statements from them. As the stories that the captives were divulging involved a plot against the royal family of the kingdom of Austrasia, Duke Rauching invited agents of the Austrasian king, Childebert II (r. 575-596), to join in the interrogations.  Before long, the interrogators were able to piece together a story that implicated Childebert’s aunt, Queen Dowager Fredegund, mother of King Chlotar II (r. 584-629) and the matriarch of a branch of the Merovingian Dynasty that ruled the Kingdom of Neustria.

War and intrigue between the Neustrian line of the Merovingian Dynasty and Childebert’s own Austrasian branch of the same family was not uncommon. The feud between these two related families dated back to 567 or 568, when Fredegund and her late husband, King Chilperic (d. 584), murdered the sister of Childebert’s mother, Bunhild. The murder caused a decades-long bloody feud between Queens Fredegund and Brunhild. As both queens were backed by their husbands and sons, the feud caused wave after wave of warfare and intrigue. Fredegund’s husband, Chilperic, as well as Brunhild’s partner, Sigebert, would both fall to assassins during their wars, leaving the child-kings, Chlotar II and Childebert II to take over their family feuds, with their powerful mothers acting as advisors and spymasters.

It was likely not surprising to Duke Rauching and King Childebert that the assassins caught in 585 or 586 claimed to have been hired by Queen Dowager Fredegund—after all, she had reportedly sent other assassins after Brunhild in a foiled plot that occurred only a few years earlier in 584. The assassins caught by Duke Rauching, after explaining that the potions caught on their person were drugs to calm their nerves for the attack and that the daggers were indeed specially-made for application of poison, went on to explain how they were instructed to carry out their mission. Well-connected Gregory of Tours (a bishop and historian) recounted the confessions that the assassins supposedly gave to Childebert II and the sentencing that the king meted out on the captives:

“When they were interrogated they told the truth, saying that they had been sent by Queen Fredegund to assassinate the King. ‘The Queen ordered us to disguise ourselves as beggars,’ they said. ‘We were to throw ourselves at your feet and beg for alms, and then we intended to stab you through and through with these daggers. Even if the thrust had been so weak that each dagger failed to do its work, the poison with which the blade is smeared would soon have caused your death.’ When they had made these admissions, they were submitted to a number of tortures, their hands, ears and noses were cut off, and they were put to death each in a different way” (Gregory of Tours, History of the Franks, VIII.29).

During their confessions, the assassins also reportedly divulged that if King Childebert II was too well defended, their next target was supposed to be his mother, Brunhild. Although taking out both mother and son at the same time with the poisoned daggers was not explicitly mentioned as the plan, such a result would have no doubt pleased Queen Dowager Fredegund. Whatever the case, the plot was foiled and the feud continued.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (14th-century image depicting the arrest of the Templars, from the British Library collection, labeled Royal 20 C. VII, f.42v, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

 

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Alexander the Great and the Physician Philip of Acarnania, Painted By Henryk Siemiradzki (1843–1902)

This painting, created by the Polish artist Henryk Siemiradzki (c. 1843-1902), depicts a specific tale about Alexander the Great that was said to have occurred around the year 333 BCE. As the story goes, Alexander fell terribly ill that year and his life rested in the hands of his physicians. Among the healers in the king’s entourage, an honorable man named Philip of Acarnania was bold enough to develop a medicine that he swore would heal Alexander of his illness. While the sickly king deliberated whether or not to take the mysterious potion, a letter from one of his generals arrived, warning Alexander the Great that the healer’s medicine might be poisoned. This event, and what happened next, was recorded by the Greek-Roman historian Arrian (c. 90-173):

“About this time Alexander had a bout of sickness. The cause of it, according to Aristobulus’ account, was exhaustion, but others say that he plunged into the river Cydnus for a swim…the result was that Alexander was seized by a convulsion, followed by high fever and sleepless nights. All his doctors but one despaired of his life; but Philip of Acarnania, who attended him and was not only a trusted physician but a good soldier as well, proposed to give him purgative. Alexander consented to take it, and just as Philip was preparing the draught, Alexander was handed a note from Parmenio. ‘Beware of Philip,’ the note read; ‘I am informed that he has been bribed by Darius to poison you.’ Alexander read the warning, and with the paper still in his hand took the cup of medicine and then passed the note to Philip. Philip read it, and while he was reading Alexander swallowed the dose. It was immediately clear that there was nothing wrong with Philip’s medicine” (Anabasis of Alexander, 2.4).

The consequential life-and-death scene of Alexander choosing to trust his own instincts about Philip instead of listening to the dubious intelligence report mailed in by Parmenio is what Henryk Siemiradzki re-created in the painting above. It shows the physician begin to read the general’s warning, while Alexander looks on to gauge Philip’s reaction for signs of innocence or guilt. Satisfied with the physician’s demeanor, Alexander took the medicine and his instincts were validated by a subsequent quick recovery. Philip of Acarnania and his medical techniques were said to have elevated Alexander the Great to a functioning state within three days, at which point the king was able to resume leading his military in the field.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

  • The Campaigns of Alexander by Arrian, translated by Aubrey de Sélincourt. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.
  • Alexander the Great by Philip Freeman. New York: Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, 2011.
  • Alexander the Great: The Story of an Ancient Life by Thomas R. Martin and Christopher W. Blackwell. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012.
  • https://www.gutenberg.org/files/46976/46976-h/46976-h.htm#Page_84

Niccolo Machiavelli

Niccolo Machiavelli (c. 1469-1527)

“The reformer has enemies in all those who profit by the old order, and only lukewarm defenders in all those who would profit by the new order, this lukewarmness arising partly from fear of their adversaries, who have the laws in their favour, and partly from the incredulity of mankind, who do not truly believe in anything new until they have had actual experience of it.”

  • From The Prince (chapter 6) by Machiavelli, translated and printed by the Henry Regnery Company, 1948.

The Hellish Reason Why Medieval Europeans Labeled The Mongols As Tartars

In 1206, a confederation of Mongol and Turkish tribes accepted Genghis (or Chinggis) Khan as their leader. Genghis Khan whipped the warriors of the Mongolian tribes into a mighty steamroller of kingdoms, and by the time of his death in 1227, the Mongol Empire extended from Northern China to the Caspian Sea. The successors of Genghis Khan continued to expand the Mongol Empire, eventually crashing into the unprepared empires and kingdoms of Eastern Europe by the 1230s and 1240s. When the Europeans saw these formidable hordes of excellent warriors streaming in from the east, it must have felt to them as if they had been born into an apocalyptic era. As the Europeans muddled over how to label these powerful new arrivals, they somehow became drawn to the name of a single Turkish tribe in the Mongol Confederation—the Tartars.

Several ideas have been proposed as to why medieval Europeans applied the name, “Tartars,” to all of the various tribes and peoples that contributed to the Mongol Empire. According to one theory, European familiarity with the name may have arisen simply because Tartar forces were reportedly heavily present within the so-called Golden Horde, a section of the Mongol Empire that was the greatest threat to Eastern Europe. A more symbolic interpretation exists, however, that suggests that medieval Europeans latched onto the name of the Tartars because it evoked in their minds the idea of Tartarus, the hellish abyss of Greek mythology, reinforcing their belief that the Mongols were an army that came straight out of hell to torment them. Whatever the case, the name “Tartars” indeed became how many 13th-century Europeans referred to the Mongols.  Such labeling can be found in the journal of the friar, William of Rubruck, who traveled into the Mongol Empire on behalf of the French King Louis IX between 1253-1255, as well as The Travels of the famous Marco Polo, who reached the court of Khubilai Khan in 1275.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Khitan hunters from Mongolia, painted by Hu Gui c. 9th or 10th century, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

 

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Hesiod and the Muse painted by Gustave Moreau (c. 1826–1898)

This colorful painting, created by the French artist Gustave Moreau (c. 1826–1898), features the ancient Greek poet, Hesiod (c. 8th century BCE), and his muse. This muse of his is much more literal than the so-called muses of other artists. The muses of Hesiod, so the ancient poet claimed, were the divine Muses—goddesses of arts, sciences and creativity. He claimed to have met the Muses on Mount Helicon in Boeotia, Greece, where generous goddesses gave him wisdom about the gods and infused him with a great talent for poetry. Speaking of himself, Hesiod, poetically wrote:

“And once they taught Hesiod fine singing, as he tended his lambs below holy Helicon…and they gave me a branch of springing bay to pluck for a staff, a handsome one, and they breathed into me wondrous voice, so that I should celebrate things of the future and things that were aforetime. And they told me to sing of the family of blessed ones who are for ever, and first and last always to sing of themselves” (Theogony, approximately line 29).

So said Hesiod, depicted above in the painting as the figure precariously balanced at the edge of the cliff, dressed in red clothing and a green hood. At his side is one of the Muses he met, given an angelic form by Gustave Moreau. The scene painted by the artist apparently is set some time after Hesiod’s first encounter with the Muses, as the poet already has in his possession the gods-given staff, which he uses to support himself as he looks out over the seascape.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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The Buddha

The Buddha (6th-5th centuries BCE)

“Health is the finest possession.
Contentment is the ultimate wealth.
Trustworthy people are the best relatives.
Unbinding is the supreme ease.”

  • The Dhammapada (Verses on the Way, Chapter 15), recorded in the 3rd century BCE. Translation by Glenn Wallis, 2004.

The Costly Aggression Of Labici

In the year 418 BCE, the Roman Republic was in a bit of a slump. As told by the Roman historian Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE), the Roman military had not won a victory since about 422 BCE, and in the meantime the republic was embroiled in escalating political strife and waves of unrest that verged on revolts. A nearby city called Labici, populated by people who were in no way friendly to the expanding republic, watched all of Rome’s recent troubles with interest. Although Labici had stayed out of decades of ongoing struggles between Rome and its rivals, such as the Volscians, Aequians, and the Etruscan city of Veii, all of the problems that were facing Rome in 418 BCE were enticing news for the leaders of Labici. In particular, reports of a near-successful slave revolt in Rome around that time might have enticed the hesitant city to become a more active participant in the wars against the Romans.

Once Labici had committed to the idea of going to war, they reached out to one of Rome’s aforementioned rivals, the Aequians, who eagerly accepted the alliance. The allied forces then raided the territory of Tusculum, an ally of Rome. When this aggression was reported to Rome, the republic declared war on Labici, and two Roman generals, Lucius Sergius Fidenas and Marcus Papirius Mugilanus, were selected to lead the campaign against Labici and the Aequians.

If the people of Labici had assumed the Roman military would be rusty and unprepared, their assumptions proved to be quite correct. This first army dispatched by Rome turned out to be a poorly led force that eventually bumbled their way into a trap. As the story goes, the Aequian-Labici army was able to lure the Romans into a steep gulley, where the forces of Sergius and Papirius were dealt an embarrassing defeat. After suffering this blow, the Roman generals rounded up what was left of their troops and retreated to the friendly city of Tusculum.

In Rome, news of their army’s defeat caused a sense of panic to take hold of the city. The republic, as it habitually did in times of trouble, was said to have appointed a dictator to do what needed to be done in order to win the war. The Roman Senate handed power to a certain Quintus Servilius Priscus, who, aided by his son, Gaius Servilius, was able to quickly mobilize another Roman army to resume the war in record time. According to the legends, folklore and records available to the aforementioned Roman historian, Livy, the revamped Roman military was able to bring the war against the Aequians and Labici to an incredibly quick conclusion. In mere days, Quintus Servilius Priscus allegedly defeated his foes in battle and swiftly pivoted to launch a direct assault on the city of Labici. Livy described the final phase of this war, writing, “the Dictator ordered an advance to Labici which was promptly surrounded, entered by scaling-ladders and sacked. Thus a week after his appointment the dictator brought his victorious army back to Rome, and resigned” (History of Rome, 4.47). In that way, the short and inglorious attempt by Labici to wage war against Rome ended. In their ill-fated hopes of weakening the Roman Republic during a time of trouble, the people of Labici only brought about their own destruction.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Battle Against the Inhabitants of Veii and Fidenae, produced in the workshop of Giuseppe Cesari (1568–1640), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

 

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