The Wizard's Prophecy

Rome, AD 595. It is one hundred and nineteen years after the fall of the Western Roman Empire. Much of Europe is in turmoil, overrun by barbarian tribes. Nevertheless, life continues in the Eternal City. Market day arrives, and His Holiness Pope Gregory the Great and his entourage came to admire the array of produce as eagerly as anyone, for in these days the Pope of Rome lived simply, favouring a monastic life. Among the fine crops and exotic fruits on sale that day was the slave market, always the talk of trade. Then something caught the eye of the Pope. A group of young boys, fair haired and skinned, chained together in slavery, awaiting their fate. A strange feeling gripped Gregory, wonder fused with pity...

"Not Angles, but Angels..."
Image taken from a mosaic of Westminster Cathedral,
London

"From what country or nation were they brought?", he asked a companion. Upon enquiring with the slave dealer in a strange foreign tongue, he replied. "They are from the island of Britain, whose inhabitants are of such personal appearance". Pope Gregory, entranced, asked, "are those islanders Christians, or still pagans?". When he discovered that they were pagans, he voiced his anguish, "Alas! What a pity", said he, "that the author of darkness is possessed of men of such fair countenances". "What is the name of that nation?", he asked, more keenly still. "They are called Angles", came the reply, for the land of Britain was at that time overrun with the tribe of the Angles. "Right", said he, "for they have an angelic face, and it becomes such to be co-heirs with the Angels in Heaven. They are not Angles, but Angels". Sensing Divine Providence that day, Pope Gregory turned to a nearby Prior, Augustine was his name, and commanded him to lead a mission to this far away land, and spread the word of Christ, with half a mind to undertake the task himself. The British Isles would never be the same again. But what of the people of Britain, and the destiny of that race? The story begins almost two hundred years earlier...


As the fifth century dawned, much of the known world was plunged into turmoil. For the lives of many, and of their ancestors for many hundreds of years too, the mighty Empire of the Romans was not only the world's greatest power, but civilisation itself. So much so that millions of people who had never even seen the Eternal City, would not have been able to locate the City on a map, who had not a drop of Roman blood in their bodies, called themselves Romans. Now, Rome, which had once seemed a power that would know no end, was on its knees. Plague, Famine, War, Strife and Economic crisis have each destroyed nations. It took all of them combined to bring about the final destruction of the Roman Empire. Yet from the ashes of Rome, her former provinces would arise as new nations, one of them an island far on the boundaries of the Empire - Britannia.


On New Year's Eve AD 406, at a rupture in the frontier of the Western Roman Empire on the River Rhine, a horde of barbarian tribes poured across the border. Vandals, Alans, Alemanni, and a formidable array of tribesman swept into Roman provinces, and the struggling Western Empire desperately tried to stem the inexorable advance. City after city was burned and pillaged, and areas the size of modern countries were laid waste. It was at this time that the Roman province of Britannia was in revolution. As the Romans in Italy were reeling from another invasion of the Visigothic tribes, Northern Europe seemed defenceless, and the people of Britain feared that they would be next. Longing for order, in a world now seemingly in the brink of the Apocalypse, the Britons threw their support behind the Roman general Constantine, thinking with melancholy of the days of Constantine the Great some one hundred years earlier. Constantine moved quickly. Landing on the beaches of northern France, called Gaul in ancient times, Constantine brought with him all the garrisons of Britain. Not one Roman soldier was left behind in Britannia, it was all or nothing for Constantine now. Setting himself up as the new Western Roman Emperor Constantine III, in direct opposition to the true Emperor Honorius, Western Europe rose in all out war. Roman marched on Roman, and Roman blood flowed by the hand of other Romans, and all the while, people died in their thousands, slaughtered by vengeful barbarians. Constantine pushed back the troops loyal to Honorius at first, seizing the province of Hispania (the future Spain), being recognised as joint Emperor with Honorius. But the barbarian advance was relentless. Ravaging the entirety of Gaul, they reached the Pyrenees. At this time, the Saxons landed on the East coast of Britannia. The British people, feeling betrayed by Constantine, abandoned him to his fate, as his eldest son Constans was elevated to power. Constans, who had before taken the life of the cloth, a pious man, was ill-prepared for secular rule. Naive, his brief reign was dominated by the schemings of his chief advisor, Vortigern, who one day overthrew his master and seized the throne of Britain for his own. The surviving brothers of Constans, Aurelius Ambrosius, and Uther Pendragon, fled to Brittany to escape Vortigern's wrath.

Merlin and Vortigern
Image taken from a 13th century Illuminated
Manuscript, now in the British Library

Great was Vortigern's fear of Ambrosius, and Uther in particular, but so too was his fear of the Picts, a fearsome tribe that lurked in the Highlands of Scotland. The fledgling Britain was ill able to repel the Picts alone, and Vortigern turned abroad for aid. Readily answering the usurper's call, a force of Angles, Saxons and Jutes arrived on England's eastern shores, under two brothers, Hengest and Horsa. With his new allies, Vortigern triumphed over the Picts time and again. Though elated at the throwing back of the Picts, more than a few among the Britons began to question the ambitions of these new 'allies'. The King's son, Vortimer, aghast at his father's submissiveness, urged him to restrain the Saxons before the hour grew too late. But Vortigern refused counsel on such matters. So when, one day, cunning Hengest asked the King for permission to invite over to these shores more of his countrymen, to strengthen Vortigern's position further, the naive King eagerly agreed. As Saxons landed in Britain in their thousands, the enraged Vortimer, with the support of the Britons, overthrew his father and determined to rid Britannia forever of foreign invaders. Upon the Saxons he fell, and terrible was his attack. Four times the Saxons stood, and four times they were broken, and even Horsa was slain, yet so too was Vortimer's brother, Catigern. Victory seemed near, but tragedy struck, when Vortimer was slain too. Such woe fell upon Britannia as never before, as the vengeance of the Saxons was terrible indeed. Vortigern, seizing back his throne once more, fled to Cambria, Wales of old, desperate now, for the fate of Britain, and his own, hung in the balance. It was then that his followers urged him to raise a mighty castle, so magnificent that no foe could storm it, so majestic that no eye could behold it without awe. Upon Mount Eryri the first stone was laid, as the King of the Britons summoned to him all the finest craftsman and masons in Britannia. Despair soon fell upon the Britons however, for when they awoke upon the second day, all their hard work had vanished, and the stones had sunk into the land. Once again they tried, and once again all was lost. Vortigern turned to his sages once more, and asked what may be done. The soothsayers and mages present their bade the King seek out a boy who had no father, and that his blood shouls be sprinkled upon the mortar and stones, so that the great citadel should never fall.


All through the land the messengers of the King searched for such a boy, and for an age it seemed a fruitless quest. Then one day horsemen came to the city known as Carmarthen, and saw a young lad playing at the gates. A fight broke out between the lad and another boy over some petty quarrel. "None knoweth what thou art, for never a father hadst thou!", the other boy shouted. At these words, the King's heralds were filled with hope. "What is thy name?" one asked the first boy. "Merlin", replied the lad. It transpired that indeed the boy had a father unknown by all, and his mother, a nun in St. Peter's Church, spoke of a vision she once had before she gave birth to the unfathered boy. Such a thing could only mean a supernatural prodigy of this boy, and when Vortigern heard this, he at once ordered Merlin brought before him without delay.


As he was thrown at the feet of Vortigern, young Merlin asked the King why he had been brought here. "My wizards have declared it unto me as their counsel that I should seek out one that had never a father, that when I shall have sprinkled his blood upon the foundation of the tower my work should stand firm". To which the young lad replied "Bid thy wizards come before me, and I will convict them of having devised a lie". Amazed at the boy's audacity, Vortigern summoned his mages. Merlin denounced them all, mocking their foolish ways. Turning to the King, he urged him to summon his workmen and dig below the tower, and there he would find a great pool of water, the source of such woe. So dig they did, and found the pool, they did. The mages were dumbfounded, and Vortigern impressed. But Merlin was not finished. "Command, O King, that the pool be drained by conduits, and in the bottom thereof shalt thou behold two hollow stones and therein two dragons asleep". When it was found to be thus, all around marvelled greatly at the gift of foresight this young boy had been blessed with, and even then there some who said that Merlin possessed some of the spirit of God.

The Dragon Struggle
Image taken from a 15th century Illuminated Manuscript,
now at Lambeth Palace, London

It was then, as Vortigern looked on, that the two dragons, one red and one white, clambered out of the pool, and when they met, with a terrible roar they fell upon each other. The Earth shuddered and the cavern rang, and fire spouted forth from their jaws, and it seemed the White Dragon would prevail, as the Red Dragon was cast to very shore of the lake. But then, the Scarlet Wyrm turned in defiance, and with renewed vigour threw itself upon the White, forcing him back. King Vortigern, turning to Merlin, enquired as to the meaning of this peculiar spectacle now played out before them. The power of prophecy filled the great wizard, and tears his eyes, as the awesome power of foresight was his once more:



        " Woe unto the Red Dragon, for his extermination draweth nigh; and his caverns
          shall be occupied of the White Dragon that betokeneth the Saxons
          whom thou hast invited hither. But the Red signifieth the race of Britain
          that shall be oppressed of the White. Therefore shall the mountains
          and the valleys thereof be made level plain and the streams of the valleys
          shall flow with blood. The rites of religion shall be done away and the ruin
          of the churches be made manifest. At the last, she that is oppressed shall prevail
          and resist the cruelty of them that come from without. For the Boar of Cornwall
          shall bring succour and shall trample their necks beneath his feet.
          The islands of the Ocean shall be subdued unto his power, and the forests of Gaul
          shall he possess. The house of Romulus shall dread the fierceness of his prowess
          and doubtful shall be his end. Renowned shall he be in the mouth of the peoples... "
                   - THE PROPHECY OF MERLIN


At the sound of these words, a remarkable feeling swept over all who heard it. Heads weary with despair lifted with the fire of fresh hope. The pure of heart were warmed with faith, and the impure with fear. Who was this great saviour, this Boar of Cornwall, who was coming? Word spread throughout the realms of England. Hope came in its stead. Their champion was coming. Alas that not one there knew his name, when all the world does today...



United Kingdom

The Legends of the Kings of Britain
The History of the Kings of Britain (Classics)
(A history of Britain written in the Middle Ages, including the days of King Arthur)

The Ecclesiastical History of the English
The Ecclesiastical History of the English People (Oxford World's Classics)
(The story of Saxon England, written by the Venerable Bede)

United States

The Legends of the Kings of Britain
The History of the Kings of Britain (Penguin Classics)
(A history of Britain written in the Middle Ages, including the days of King Arthur)

The Ecclesiastical History of the English
Ecclesiastical History of the English People (Penguin Classics)
(The story of Saxon England, written by the Venerable Bede)

Otho's Noble End

“Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely” is one of the most misquoted lines in popular culture. Lord Acton's famously declared words were actually "Power tends to corrupt, absolute power tends to corrupt absolutely", changing the meaning considerably. The misquotation is a phrase loudly trumpeted in the 21st century, and after the atrocities of the 20th century, it would seem to be rightly so. However, there is no shortage of a great many individuals in history who undermine this. Here is the story of one man, largely unknown and ignored even by other Roman historians, who deserves our remembrance.

The Emperor Galba
Statue in the gardens of Anglesey Abbey,
Cambridgeshire, England

AD 68. Almost a thousand years after the foundation of the city, the world was thrown into turmoil. Almost a century ago the Roman Republic, which had stood for a half a millennium, was at last dissolved. The young Gaius Caesar Octavianus, through his defeat of Mark Antony, had assumed sole rule of the Roman world. In 27 BC, he took the new name of Caesar Augustus, becoming the first Roman Emperor, giving birth to the Roman Empire, which would last for one and a half thousand years. Now, the last of his line, the Emperor Nero, is dead. Declared an enemy of the Senate and People of Rome, the infamous Emperor has taken his own life. But who should succeed him? The governor of the Roman province of Hispania Tarraconensis (Northern Spain), Servius Sulpicius Galba, seemed a good choice. 70 years of age, he had held a long distinguished career, serving in Africa, Germania, Hispania and Gaul (known as France today). 27 years earlier, when the Emperor Caligula was assassinated, he had refused calls to take up the Imperial mantle himself. A strict disciplinarian, he was quite a contrast to the extravagant Nero. Earlier in the year, Gaius Julius Vindex, Governor of Gallia Lugdunensis (Southern France), had risen in rebellion against Nero. Legions loyal to the Emperor crushed the revolt, and Vindex was slain. Galba, who had lent his support to the cause, escaped with his life only through the suicide of Nero. On June the 8th, the Senate hailed Galba as Emperor.

The Roman World AD 69 - The Year of the Four Emperors
Map created by the author

An extremely strict and ruthless taskmaster, towns which did not acknowledge Galba on his march to Rome faced stiff fines, and the ringleaders faced execution. Galba arrived in Rome to find the Imperial Treasury nigh on destitute, as a result of Nero’s boundless profligacy. As the year came to an end, the soldiers would need to be paid – a dangerous situation was rising. Sabinus, commander of the Praetorian Guard (the personal bodyguard of the Roman Emperor), promised the Guard a reward in return for supporting him as a new Emperor. The plot was foiled, and Sabinus took his own life. The Guard, however, demanded payment from Galba. An arrogant and aloof man, Galba scorned them, shouting that soldier should not be bribed in return for their loyalty. The Guard was enraged, and with the new hefty taxes the Emperor was forced to bring in, Galba found himself alienated from all classes of the Roman World, including one man who had supported him – Marcus Salvius Otho.

The Emperor Nero
Statue in the gardens of Anglesey Abbey,
Cambridgeshire, England

38 years of age, the young Otho had lead a remarkable life. Born to a distinguished Etruscan family, as a young boy he was known for his mischievous ways, frequently getting himself into trouble. An elderly lady serving the Imperial House found him delightfully charming and amusing, and before long, young Otho became introduced to the young, future Emperor Nero. The two became inseparable friends, often playing practical jokes on each other, and others. Years later, when Nero ruled the Empire, he entrusted to Otho’s care a lady, Poppaea Sabina. An attendant at court and rumoured to be one of the Emperor’s mistresses, Poppaea’s beauty was the talk of the court. Seven years younger, Otho was entranced by her the moment he saw her. Driven near mad with her, the two were soon wed. Otho was eager to introduce Poppaea to his friend, and he brought her before the Emperor, a decision he would ever after rue. Nero too was taken by her gaze, and Poppaea was seduced by the power which she believed she now wielded. Poppaea and Nero began an affair in secret, Otho unaware of their treachery. Poppaea strengthened her hold on the Emperor, and planted vile schemes in his mind. If Nero were to simply execute Otho, the whole scandal might become public, and ruin the Emperor. Poppaea’s whisperings, however, soon gave rise to a heinous plan. When he was twenty eight, the Emperor’s men arrived at Otho’s house. The Emperor declared Poppaea’s marriage to Otho void, announcing his own intentions to wed her. On Poppaea’s insistence, Nero banished Otho to govern the province of Lusitania (Portugal), conveniently one of the furthest provinces in the Empire from Rome. The news fell upon Otho with a terrible weight. Dejected utterly, wracked with the most horrific grief and the fury of injustice and the betrayal of his best friend and his wife, Otho was distraught. For ten years he existed in exile, a shadow of a man, but a new man. News later arrived that Nero, tiring of her, had murdered Poppaea. Otho put his head in his hands and wept. Once an extravagant wastrel and best friend to one of history’s most notorious tyrants, Otho experienced something of a revolution in his character. Through his own terrible suffering, he saw that of others too, and saw the errors of his old ways. His governorship of Lusitania was marked by his extraordinary fairness and virtue, and his willingness to help all who called out to him for help, regardless of social class. He was admired deeply by the legions for his deep generosity. Whenever he attended a banquet, he always stopped to talk to the guards on the door, giving every man a gold piece. Once he judged a case of two men arguing over the boundaries of each other’s territory. Otho bought the land and presented it as a gift to a wounded soldier under his care.

The Emperor Vitellius
Statue in the gardens of Anglesey Abbey,
Cambridgeshire, England

When news came of Galba’s declaration as Emperor in defiance of Nero, Otho offered his support, as the prospect of retribution against his old friend and the murderer of his wife grew strong. Yet when Galba’s support began to dwindle, the legions remembered the man who had cared for them so, and begged Otho to lead them. New Year’s Day, AD 69 arrived. The traditional oath of allegiance that all soldiers across the Empire swore to the Emperor was not taken. The Praetorian Guard bore Otho on their shoulders, and declared him Emperor. The cohort on duty on the Palatine Hill deserted Galba, and the Emperor was ambushed and slain at the foot of the Capitoline Hill. Only one guard, Sempronius Densus, honoured his duty to his Emperor, and fought to the death to defend him. As night fell, Otho stood now as the Emperor of Rome. Coming before the Senate, he declared that he would rule for all Romans, in consultation with all. Unfortunately, urgent messengers arrived in Rome that the Legions stationed on the Rhine had hailed their own commander, Aulus Vitellius, as Emperor. Delegations were sent to Vitellius, urging a restore to order, for an Emperor had been chosen. But the ambitious Vitellius ignored them. Otho, who despised Civil War as a monstrous aberration, exhausted every diplomatic option, before war became unavoidable. The Praetorians and Legions under Otho’s command denounced Vitellius and swore undying loyalty to Otho. Agents sent by Vitellius to were apprehended by the Guard, who dearly cared for the new Emperor. The omens were bad, as Otho set forth from Rome. The Tiber burst her banks and flooded the city, and the auguries boded doom. Ignoring these signs, Otho resolved to end the war quickly, and put an end to all uncertainty, as his men eagerly marched to war. Making camp at Brixellum, in northern Italy, the Othonian troops won three victories at the Alps, and the Emperor took heart. Vitellius sued for peace talks, and Otho’s forces marched out to hear the terms near Bedriacum. Then the full extent of Vitellius’ fell stratagems were laid bare. Springing a trap, the Othonian troops found not an embassy of peace, but the fully armed elite Legions of the Rhine, fresh for battle, arrayed against them. Battle was joined, and the Othonians fought valiantly, but could not hold out the crack Legions.


Back in Brixellum, a lowly soldier ran into the camp, throwing himself before Otho and his generals. With tears in his eyes he looked into the Emperor’s telling of their defeat. Otho’s generals berated the soldier, accusing him of lies and deceit. One called him a coward, who had chosen to desert rather than fight. The soldier, distraught by the allegations, knowing the penalty for desertion, threw himself upon his sword at Otho’s feet. The Emperor was shocked to his very core. The Legions around him shouted encouragements to Otho, and this was no sycophancy - they meant it. News arrived that fresh Legions from Dalmatia (modern Croatia), loyal to Otho, were on their way. Nearby troops clasped his knees, eagerly willing him on, declaring that they would stand with him to the death. But the Emperor could not take his eyes away from the soldier now dying at his feet. Tears welled in his eyes. Moved by the sight, Otho declared he would not expose his men to any further danger, men who had served him so well. The armies pleaded with Otho to lead them one last time against Vitellius. That man had dishonoured the codes of war, and deserved his fate. The Commander of the Praetorians begged him again and again not to give up, and the armies cheered. But Otho, an altruistic man, would hear nothing more of war. But deep down, he knew that there was only one way this war could end, and took a decision of leadership beyond equal in human history. Never before or since has one man commanded such admiration in defeat from his own soldiers. “It is better to die one for many, than many for one”, Otho declared:


         “ We have learned to know each other, Fortune and I… Self-control is
            harder when a man knows that his fortune cannot last… I want neither
            revenge nor consolation… Am I the man to allow the flower of Rome
            in all these famous armies to be laid down once again and lost to the country?
            Let me take with me the consciousness that you would have died for me.
            But you must stay and live. I must no longer interfere with your chance of pardon,
            nor you with my resolve. It is cowardice to go on talking about the end.
            Here is your best proof of my determination; I complain of no one.
            To blame gods or men is the mark of one who desires to live… ” 
                                           - OTHO ADDRESSES HIS MEN ONE LAST TIME

The Emperor Otho
Statue in the gardens of Anglesey Abbey,
Cambridgeshire, England

As the Legions stood, all other woes forgotten, struck dumb by the man before them, the Emperor descended from the dais and embraced each man, calling them by name. He turned to his brother and the two men held the other close. Otho looked down to his brother’s son, seeing the tears in his eyes, and comforted him. Dismissing them all, the Emperor returned to his quarters. All letters and documents which held any praise for himself or ill words for Vitellius he burned, so that none could incriminate others, and he sat down to write a letter to his sister. All the money he had he divided up and gave to his household slaves. A disturbance sounded outside. A few men who had tried to take leave had been suspected of deserting and restrained by Otho’s loyal troops. “Let us add one more night to this life”, Otho thought. He issued an order that force was to be used against no man, and left his door open well into the night for any to come and see him. Taking a drink of ice cold water, he picked up a pair of daggers. Testing the point of each, he chose one and laid it beside his pillow. Laying upon his bed, he enjoyed one last peaceful night, not without some sleep.


Dawn arrived on the 16th of April. As the rays of the sun rose in his room, Otho thrust the dagger into his breast. As the darkness fell over his eyes, his dying sigh was heard by the Guard, who rushed in. With a howl of deep pain they gazed upon their fallen Emperor. The breath of life left his body, and so ended the seventh Emperor of Rome, a man truly worthy of the name. Tears streamed in their eyes as the Guard bore Otho’s body aloft outside. The effect on those who were there was profound. Cries and shouts of grief rent the air asunder as the mightiest armed force in all history all wept as one, for one:


           “ Many of the soldiers who were present wept greatly and fervently
              and kissed his hands and feet as he lay there,
              declaring that he was the bravest of men, the one true Emperor… ”
                                             - THE REACTION OF THE ARMIES TO OTHO'S END


Otho’s body was laid upon the pyre, as his funeral was to be conducted quickly and with little fuss, as per his instructions. More than a few in the mighty array were moved beyond tears. Some could not bear to be separated from so great a man:


            “ It was then that some of the soldiers there took their own lives beside the pyre,
               not through servility or fear, but from love of their Emperor… ”
                                             - THE FINAL SACRIFICE


Never before or since has such devotion been shown to a fallen leader. The army gave him a magnificent funeral, burying him in a simple unmarked grave, for they knew that Vitellius would desecrate it if ever he found it. What happened to Vitellius, you might ask? Rome endured less than a year of his irreverent rule. Vespasian, the commander of the Eastern Legions whom Otho’s supporters called upon, who would one day build the Colosseum, marched on Rome, defeating Vitellius at Bedriacum. Vitellius met a sticky end, and a new era of peace came to Rome and the World.

Power corrupts. Or does it? I’ll leave you to make your own choice. Otho reigned as Emperor for just three months. His name deserves to be known. Many years later, the great historian Tacitus said of him:


                            “ Others may have held the sceptre longer,
                               but no one can ever have laid it down so bravely ”



United Kingdom

The Lives of the Caesars:
The Twelve Caesars (Penguin Classics)
(Biographies of Julius Caesar and the first eleven Emperors of Rome, in full salacious detail, written by the Emperor Hadrian's private secretary)

The History of the Civil War:
The Histories (Oxford World's Classics)
(A detailed account of the Year of the Four Emperors, written by one of the most erudite of ancient Romans - Tacitus)

United States

The Lives of the Caesars:
The Twelve Caesars (Penguin Classics)
(Biographies of Julius Caesar and the first eleven Emperors of Rome, in full salacious detail, written by the Emperor Hadrian's private secretary)

The History of the Civil War:
The Histories (Oxford World's Classics)
(Biographies of Julius Caesar and the first eleven Emperors of Rome, in full salacious detail, written by the Emperor Hadrian's private secretary)