Blog | Alison Morton's Thrillers

How did Romans cope with eclipses?

Map of eclipses AD 381-400

Yesterday, the world jostled, thrilled and was overcome with excitement by the total eclipse of the sun by the moon. We’ve had scientific explanations, videos of eclipse-chasers setting out, scenes from Burgos in Spain where rooms and hotels had been booked for months, even years to see the 100% eclipse. News headlines and social media are filled today with stunning photos.

But how did ancient peoples see it?

I wanted to include a scene with an eclipse in my novel EXSILIUM to invoke a sense of dark things to come, but I doubted one was happening at the time. A storm would have to do. But I was thrilled when I discovered from research that an eclipse actually occurred at the time I needed! And the information came from NASA in the form of a map. I could hardly believe it! Rome wasn’t 100% in its path as Burgos in Spain was yesterday, but the effect would be enough.

So here’s what Lucius Apulius experienced…

Rome, AD 393

In late November, I was trudging down the hill mid morning towards the Senate House when the freezing wind that had forced me to pull my hood up and gather my cloak closer around me suddenly ceased. Although the sun was shining with that bright winter light when I set out, the sky seemed to grow darker. I cursed, thinking a storm was about to roll in, hopefully not hail or sleet. But there was no cloud in the sky, yet it became steadily darker.

Chatter and shouting around me quietened and people stopped in the street to stare upwards. Even mules stopped braying and chickens squawking. Instead of people leaning out of windows and making rude remarks about people passing below, old men and young women were equally hushed. Some gave the Christos sign across their chests, others brought hands to their mouths and staggered against walls as if for protection. Women started to cry; children huddled into their mothers’ skirts. Even a schoolmaster instructing children in a group on the steps of an abandoned temple near me fell silent.

We all watched, transfixed by the bright sun vanishing behind a black disc. I shivered as an ethereal twilight took hold. I knew in my mind it was an eclipse and astronomers could even predict their timings, but I was overwhelmed by the thought it could presage a portentous event as it had for the Divine Julius and Augustus’s deaths. Was Theodosius or Eugenius about to die? Or did it foreshadow ten years of war, or that the barbarians were about to pour over the Danube in overwhelming numbers?

I knew in my mind it would pass – at least, that was what I remembered from my tutor in mathematics many years ago. But he had never seen such a phenomenon and only remembered it as a story from his grandfather. My heart was thudding. I was finding it viscerally disturbing as if Helios himself was dying or losing a war with Luna. How long I stood there, I don’t know. Aside from those whimpering and softly wailing, and those sending prayers and supplications to their gods, every other human being seemed crushed into silence by this force of nature.

The black disc slid inexorably across the sun to leave only an intensely bright ring around it – the only light in the dark day. Gasps and cries now rippled through the crowd, many now on their knees or crouched on the ground as if in their mother’s womb. I could scarcely breathe as I laboured to convince myself that this was not the end of days.

Then slowly, painfully, the black disc moved and sunlight was released. A collective sigh rose from the crowd. Tears rolled down faces, fear turned into relief. Some bent down and helped others to stand. People broke into excited talking and Rome became once more a city of noise. I leant back against a wall and let out a long breath as the sun’s warmth touched my face. The sun, the life-giver, had returned, but I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling in my bones that this eclipse had been a messenger of doom or at the very least of extreme danger.

But for whom?

EXSILIUM, Chapter XV

Alison Morton is the author of Roma Nova thrillers – INCEPTIO, CARINA (novella), PERFIDITAS, SUCCESSIO, AURELIA, NEXUS (novella), INSURRECTIO and RETALIO, and ROMA NOVA EXTRA, a collection of short stories. JULIA PRIMA and EXSILIUM, set in the late 4th century, tell the story of Roma Nova’s foundation. Audiobooks are available for four of the series. Double Identity, Double Pursuit and Double Stakes form a new contemporary thriller series. A new collection of Roma Nova short stories, HEROICA, is now out.

Download ‘Welcome to Alison Morton’s Thriller Worlds’, a FREE eBook, as a thank you gift when you sign up to Alison’s monthly email update. As a result, you’ll be among the first to know about news and book progress before everybody else, and take part in giveaways.

Public bathing – My visit to the past

Painting of Baths of Caracalla by Laurence Alma Tadema

Baths were such an intrinsic part of the Roman world that we can’t think of one without the other. Everybody went to the baths – everybody. Read how here.

Well, none of us like to smell. A recent trip to the former bathhouse in my nearby town of Thouars in the Deux-Sèvres set me thinking…

Christians and Roman bathing

Despite the denunciation of the mixed bathing style of Roman pools by early Christian clergy, as well as the pagan custom of women bathing naked in front of men, this did not stop the Church from urging its followers to go to public baths for bathing for hygiene and good health (according to the Church Father, Clement of Alexandria).

In fact, the Church built public bathing facilities separate for both sexes near monasteries and pilgrimage sites and popes situated baths within church basilicas and monasteries from the early Middle Ages.

Great bathhouses were built in Byzantine centres such as Constantinople and Antioch. The popes maintained their baths in their residences. Bath houses including hot baths were incorporated into Christian church buildings or those of monasteries, which known as “charity baths” because they served both the clerics and needy poor people.

Medieval bathing

Public bathing were common in mediaeval Christendom larger towns and cities such as Paris, Regensburg and Naples. Later, Protestantism also played a prominent role in the development of British spas.

Returning crusaders in the 11th and 12th centuries who had enjoyed warm baths in the Middle East, introduced Roman style public baths on a limited scale. These, however, rapidly degenerated into brothels – at least that was their reputation _ and were often closed down. In England during the reign of Henry II, bath houses, called bagnios from the Italian word for bath, were set up in Southwark on the River Thames. They were all officially closed down by Henry VIII in 1546 due to their negative reputation.

Modern public bathing

The first modern public baths were opened in Liverpool in 1829. The first known warm fresh-water public wash house was opened in May 1842. As a small child in the late 1950s, I remember a small suite of ‘slipper baths’ in my local swimming pool built around 1906. I was intensely curious about them as I thought everybody had a bath at home.

Today, we see bathing as something we do privately in the home, but bathing in public has been a communal, social activity for a long time.They have included hot-air bathing facilities such as hammams, Victorian Turkish baths, and saunas.

As the percentage of dwellings containing private bathrooms increased in many societies, the need for public baths diminished. This was the story of the Bains-Douches in my local town of Thouars. Intended to serve the hygiene needs of the town’s poorer population, the bathhouse was also designed to include a public laundry area. No more washing clothes in the river, they thought.

A little bit of history

Although first proposed before the First World War, the construction of a public bathhouse in the up and coming railway town of Thouars was not finally approved until 1923 – a time when the working-class population was growing and few homes had bathrooms. The project faced delays caused by State Railway employees who deemed the venture unprofitable due to a poor choice of location near the historic centre – the railway station and the railway employees’ housing was a good kilometre to the north. Moreover, despite subsidies promised by the Ministry of the Interior, they considered the cost excessive. This opposition prompted the town to modify the original plans.

Ultimately built between 1927 and 1929 by Parisian architect Louis Lablaude, the structure stands on the site of a former medieval tower. The medieval town of Thouars had formidable ramparts with forty towers, so the sacrifice of one to meet modern needs was not considered too much of a sacrifice. However, the roof design caused recurring waterproofing issues and was not finally resolved until the late 1940s.

During the Second World War, German troops took it over. The general public could still access it on Sundays until coal supplies ran out, which they often did. After the Liberation in 1944, people used the Bains-Douches again. It symbolised many things – regaining their town, cleanliness and community cohesion.

However, interest in the public bathhouse waned during the 1960s and 1970s as more households acquired their own bathrooms. In 1974, the town of Thouars decided to limit the bathhouse’s opening hours to just one day a week: Saturday. Given the strong initiative in the late 1950s and 1960s to connect every house in France to running water supply, I’m surprised to hear it was still operating, even on a restricted basis!

In October 1993, the town council voted to permanently close the building, a decision that took effect in 1994.

Architecture and layout

The outstanding feature of the building is the Art Deco style design. The roof consists of several reinforced concrete terraces. The bath and shower area, located on the first floor, was originally laid out – though modified due to budget constraints – to include 17 shower cubicles, 4 bathtubs, and an on-site apartment for the caretaker. A wooden partition down the middle of the main hall ensured separation of the sexes!

A public laundry facility was also available for residents.

After the closure

The building currently houses Les Restos du Cœur, which has remained on the ground floor despite the facility’s closure. The charity was founded by comedian Coluche (1944–1986) and its main activity is to distribute food packages and hot meals to those in need. The association targets the homeless and those with of low income (single families, elderly people with a low pension, young adults, etc.) and also helps people to find housing as well as supporting other projects.

The building has retained its bathtubs, shower cubicles, door-mounted sand timers, and blue-and-white tiles. It’s one of the last bath-and-shower facilities in the Grand Ouest region of France to be preserved in its original state.

In 2015, the Bains-Douches of Thouars was awarded the Patrimoine du xx^e siècle label , followed by the Architecture contemporaine remarquable label. It has been listed as a historical monument since November 7, 2022.

My visit

I loved the architecture! Everything is rounded and geared to style as well as creating a human-friendly environment. Original features like the polished wood banister rail and the pretty tiled floor were evidence of this. The shower feed pipes were quite thin, so nothing like the rainfall shower heads of today’s power showers! Decorative tiles depicting landscape scenes both inside and outside the cabins added a luxurious touch. But there were definite but practical rules embedded in the cabins on wall tiles too. I smiled at them – all very sensible – especially the rule that you could be accompanied by one of your servants if you had difficulty getting dressing and undressed. A sign that the baths were used by all classes.

The Praetorians – Our friends?

Inventing a military unit like the 21st century Praetorian Guard Special Forces in my Roma Nova books was a risk.

However, I chose to use the old Roman name because, although the original cohortes praetoriae became corrupt, they were the courageous, battle-hardened elite who guarded the Ancient Roman emperor’s life with theirs.

Today in Roma Nova, protecting the imperatrix and the state is one of the core tasks of the modern Praetorians. And they look like any modern elite military. Mostly, and I stress the ‘mostly’, they are incorruptible. But you never know…

Who were the original Praetorians?

The cohortes praetoriae were first mentioned around 275 BC during the Roman Republic as a guard for the command HQ – the praetorium – and served on an ad hoc basis as a small escort force for high-ranking officials such as army generals or provincial governors. Usually war leaders wore a distinguishing garment or headdress; perfect for showing your own troops who they should rally round, but also tending to act as a big fat target sign to the enemy. For this reason, during the Siege of Numantia, Scipio Aemilianus formed a troop of 500 men for his personal protection.

The Praetorian Relief, from a triumphal arch. Creative Commons, Louvre-Lens Museum

As Roman generals occupied their positions for longer periods of time the name cohors prætoria emerged. (Cohors means one armed unit, cohortes more than one. Strangely enough, cohors means attendants, retinue, staff as you might expect, but also enclosure/yard/pen or farmyard!)

By the end of 40 BC, Octavian (Julius Caesar’s great-nephew, adopted son and heir, and future Roman emperor Augustus) and his rival Mark Antony both operated Praetorian units during their civil wars. Mark Antony commanded three cohorts in the East and even issued coins in honour of his Praetorians in 32 BC.

Octavian is said to have commanded five cohorts at the Battle of Actium. Following this victory, Octavian merged his forces with those of the defeated Mark Antony in a symbolic reunification of the former army of Julius Caesar. And the Praetorians melded into his personal security detail.

Hand-picked veterans, the accompanied the emperor on active campaign, serving as the last reserve in battle. In more peaceful times, they functioned as secret police and enforcers protecting the civic administration and rule of law as defined by (sometimes) the Senate and (ultimately and more often) the emperor.

Service in the Praetorian Guard

As Praetorians represented the elite soldiers from the legions a man had to be in excellent physical condition, of good moral character and come from a respectable family. In addition, he had to obtain letters of recommendations from higher status members of society; this is where good connections counted!

Once past the recruitment procedure, he was designated as probatus, and assigned as a miles (soldier) to one of the centuries of a cohort. After two years, he could be considered for the post of immunis (roughly equivalent to a corporal), perhaps as a commis (junior chief) at general headquarters or as a technician.

This first promotion exempted him from daily basic tasks (hence our word immune). After another two years, he could be promoted to principalis, with salary doubled, and in charge of delivering messages (tesserarius), as an assistant centurion (optio) or standard bearer (signifer) at the corps of the century. If literate and numerate, he could join the administrative staff of the prefect.

A Praetorian soldier from the 2nd century AD – retrieved in Pozzuoli (1800). Pergamon Museum, Berlin

Praetorians’ mandatory service was shorter in duration than for regular soldiers in the legions; twelve years instead of sixteen starting in year 13 BC, then from AD5 sixteen instead of twenty years.

Under Nero, the pay of a Praetorian was three and a half times that of a legionary, augmented by donativum, a ‘donation’ a.k.a. bribe) granted by each new emperor. This additional pay was often repeated at significant events including birthdays, births and marriages of the imperial family.

In order not to alienate the population of Rome, while conserving Republican civilian traditions, the Praetorians did not wear their armour while in the heart of the city. Instead they often dressed in a formal toga, which distinguished them from civilians. Augustus, fully conscious of the risk of maintaining a military force in an obvious way within the city, imposed this dress code.

Major monetary distributions or food subsidies rewarded, or more practically, bought the fidelity of the Praetorians following each failed plot (such as that of Messalina against Claudius in AD 48 or Piso against Nero in AD 65).

Patrick Stewart as Sejanus, Patricia Quinn as Livilla in the BBC adaptation of I, Claudius (Robert Graves)

Bad apples

Efficient and generally feared as they were, becoming their leader (praefectus) was a springboard to immense power. One of the most infamous prefects was Sejanus (acted by a younger Patrick Stewart in the television series I, Claudius).

Lucius Aelius Seianus rose to power under Tiberius and was one of the first prefects to exploit his position in order to pursue his own ambitions.

He concentrated all the Praetorians under his personal command and made himself indispensable to the new emperor Tiberius, who tried in vain to persuade the Senate to share the responsibility of governing the Empire. Tiberius became an absentee emperor, a recluse on Capri, and left everything to his energetic prefect.

However, Sejanus alienated Drusus, Tiberius’s son, and when Germanicus, the heir to the throne, died in AD 19, Sejanus feared that Drusus would become the next emperor. So he poisoned Drusus with the help of the latter’s wife, Livilla, and immediately launched a ruthless elimination programme against all potential competitors. He even persuaded Tiberius to make him his heir apparent.

Sejanus nearly succeeded in grabbing power, but his plot was discovered in AD 31. Using the vigiles and the cohortes urbanae (together effectively Rome’s civilian police), Tiberius manoeuvred Sejanus into a position of weakness from which he fell from power and was executed.

Decline and fall of the Praetorians

Later, the Guard intrigued and interfered in Roman politics to the point of overthrowing emperors and proclaiming their successors even before they were ratified by the Senate and the legions stationed in the provinces. After AD 238, literary and epigraphic sources dry up and information on the Praetorian Guard becomes scarce during the following fifty years. I wouldn’t think they merely faded away – it was a period in which the Roman Empire nearly collapsed under the combined pressures of invasion, civil war, plague, and economic depression, known as the Crisis of the Third Century. Plenty of opportunity for choosing sides.

In AD 284, Diocletian reduced their status; they were no longer to be part of Roman palace life. After all, Diocletian lived in Nicomedia, modern Turkey, 60 miles from Byzantium. Two new corps, the Ioviani and Herculiani (named after the gods Jupiter and Hercules), replaced the Praetorians as the personal protectors of the emperors, a practice that remained intact with the Tetrarchy. By the time Diocletian retired in May AD 305, their Castra Praetoria seems to have housed only a minor garrison in Rome.

The Battle of the Milvian Bridge by (Giulio Romano,1524, Vatican Museum)

During the early 4th century, Caesar Flavius Valerius Severus attempted to disband the Praetorian Guard entirely. (Good luck with that!) In response, the Praetorians turned to Maxentius, the son of the retired emperor Maximian, and proclaimed him their emperor in October AD 306.

By AD 312, however, Constantine the Great marched on Rome with an army in order to eliminate Maxentius and gain control of the Western Roman Empire, resulting in the Battle of the Milvian Bridge. Ultimately, Constantine’s army achieved a decisive victory against the Praetorians, whose emperor, Maxentius, was killed during the fighting.

Unsurprisingly, hard man Constantine definitively disbanded the remnants of the Praetorian Guard, sending remaining soldiers out to various corners of the empire. The Castra Praetoria was dismantled in a grand gesture inaugurating a new age in Roman history, ending that of the original Praetorians.

Why haven’t the Roma Novan Praetorians ‘gone bad’?

Firstly, they have the shining example of the ancients; overstep the mark and you will be abolished.

Secondly, the Twelve Families, the imperatrix‘s council of advisers drawn from the original families settling Roma Nova are closer to the ruler than any Praetorian would be and thus form a buffer.

Thirdly, although the Praetorians’ function is to protect the ruler, act as her intelligence service and special forces, they are employed soldiers like others in the Roma Novan military and like other citizens are subject to the law. That’s the theory…

Women Praetorians?
As Ancient Rome was a patriarchal society, the Praetorian Guard of the time were, like all military, uniquely male.

Photo courtesy of Britannia www.durolitum.co.uk

The original guard had been finally disbanded nearly a hundred years before the small group of senatorial families were to trek north and found the Roma Nova in my books in AD 395. Perhaps the ‘new Romans’ felt the negative connotations about Praetorians had faded or perhaps they were desperate to hang on to their deepest traditions. Romans were proud of their history and traditional cultural values. However, when a small bodyguard was formed for the first ruler, Apulius, they called it the cohors praetoria or Praetorian Guard.

Women became members of the fighting units defending Roma Nova alongside their brothers and fathers. They had no choice; the new settlers were numerically so few that they didn’t have enough male fighters. And this was during the time of the migrations of tribes across Europe especially from east to west.

As the units evolved into legions over the years, women became eligible to transfer from the regular forces into the Praetorian units along with their male colleagues. The requirements for every Praetorian down the ages were (and still are) strength, a very high level of physical fitness, intelligence and skills levels, irrespective of gender.

The ancients were permitted to bear arms inside the city of Rome, so my modern Praetorians are allowed to carry side arms inside the Golden Palace, the home of Roma Nova’s imperatrix.

The Praetorian Guard in my Roma Nova books protect the imperatrix (ruler) and also form an elite tactical military force as they did in ancient Rome. This is how Aurelia and Carina Mitela have ended up serving in the Praetorian Guard Special Forces – an ‘odd job’ for women in history, especially when until relatively recently in the real world, too, such a role would normally have been associated exclusively with men.