Coriolanus

For the people of Rome, the earliest days of the Republic were to be a dramatic struggle for their very survival. From the moment of the downfall of Tarquin the Proud, last of the Seven Kings of Rome, the Eternal City was plunged headfirst into ruinous war. But, at their hour of greatest need, came forth their greatest heroes (for this story, please click here). The might of Etruria had been humbled by Roman valour and steel, and for a time, all was good. But soon Rome would find that the greatest foe lies within...

The Secession of the Plebs
Engraving by Barloccini

Two hundred and fifty nine years after the Foundation of Rome, the great city was torn in two. Fourteen years had passed since the heroism of Horatius, Scaevola and Cloelia had stood proud in the face of towering adversity, and all Romans, rich and poor alike, stood together. In 494 BC, however, such times seemed as far away as ever they could be. For now, with no King to rule the city, the rich squabbled and the poor suffered. Such was the way of the Republic. One day, however, the people of Rome could bear their plight no more. Setting up camp upon the Sacred Mount, they refused to move until the Senate heard their call. War loomed. The Senate grew fearful. If there were no people, no armies could be raised. So the hands of the rich were forced, and the people could now appoint their own representatives in the Republic, the Tribunes of the Plebs. But whilst Rome tore itself apart, greater forces were on the move. Seizing their chance, the Volscian nation, a warlike people on the southern borders, pounced. Roman lands were ransacked, towns pillaged and people slaughtered. Rome could ill afford to fight itself now.

The Heroism of Gaius Marcius
Engraving by Augustyn Mirys

Heeding the call of duty, the Consuls summoned the people, and Rome marched to war. Even in their weakened state, and in the days before the Empire, the Roman legions were a mighty force indeed. Several Roman victories were gained, and the Volscians were thrown back to the city of Corioli, a place of towering walls. The legions began their siege, but one day, to their horror, they realised that all was a deception. A horde of Volscians fell upon the Roman rear, and the sons of Mars were in disarray. All, that was, except for one man. A young aristocrat serving in the army, Gaius Marcius, thought back to the glory days of Horatius at the Bridge (for this story, please click here), and stood firm. Calling to the Romans, he held his blade high, and with a powerful shout, raised his battle cry. Storming the gates, Marcius threw himself upon the stunned Volscians, fighting as though Mars himself had taken the field. Hope rippled through the Roman ranks, and morale soared. Her hour of splendour had returned at last. Shattered by the ferocity of this onslaught, the Volscians fled in terror, and Corioli fell to the renewed Romans. Marcius raised his sword high, and the roar of triumph shook the city to its very foundations, as the gods smiled once more upon Rome. For his valour, Marcius was granted the new name, Coriolanus, in honour of his victory. He returned a hero, like the Kings of old, and tears of admiration were to be found on many a face. For a time, all seemed well...

Gaius Marcius Coriolanus
Engraving by James Caldwell

But the winds of fortune are fickle indeed, as terrible famine struck the hallowed plains of Latium. Death stalked the fields of the city, and soon the animals fell to the earth, never again to rise. The poor began to starve, and threw themselves upon the mercy of the rich. Old wounds threatened to reopen. Coriolanus, a man of noble blood, soon found himself at the heart of Rome once again, but this time, desperation found itself the master of admiration. Rich though he may be, there was little he could do to find the much needed food. Rumours began to spread among the people of Rome, rumours started by the demagogues in the Senate - the Tribunes. Poisonous stories that Rome's new hero dined well whilst the people starved. When word reached the ears of the conqueror of Corioli, he was roused to terrible fury. Railing against the upstarts in the Senate, Coriolanus condemned the Tribunes for their malicious deceit and slanders. But it was too late. The man who had only days before been the most admired man in Rome soon became the most hated, or pitied. The further the stories spread, the greater his anger grew, and the more violent his words on the floor of the Senate. But then, when all hope had seemed lost, ships arrived, full to bursting with badly needed grain, generously gifted to Rome by the ruler of Syracuse. But pride and injustice can have a powerful effect on the minds of men. Coriolanus, blinded with fury, decreed that the food should only be released to the people if they surrender their rights and the Tribunes be abolished once and for all. When word of this reached the crowds in the Forum, the populace rose in rage, and would have stormed the Senate house itself had not a few loyal friends hurled themselves in front of their hero.

Seizing their chance, the Tribunes ordered the arrest of Coriolanus, demanding he stand trial for treason. Coriolanus, however, could stand things no longer. Nobles everywhere, torn between their loyalty to one of their own and fear of the mob, abandoned him. The man who had laid low the greatest threat to Rome for a generation was condemned to exile. Outraged at this betrayal, and the treachery of his own nation, Coriolanus at once marched forth from the city, with hideous vengeance on his mind. Little did the people of Rome know the horror they had unleashed...

Coriolanus before the Walls of Rome
Painting by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo

Cast out by his own countrymen, Coriolanus found the doors of all Roman towns barred to him, the lips of all allies closed. Friends old and new alike abandoned him in his evil plight, and soon he found himself alone, hated and cursed by his motherland. But the old fighting spirit was within him still. Coriolanus dared the passage to the southern borderlands, and marched without hesitation into the Volscian city, coming before the leader of their warlike nation, Attius Tullius. Both men, wronged at the hands of Rome, schemed together, one driven by malicious betrayal, the other by innate hostility. The conquered Volscian people, roused by the charismatic words of their former foe, were gripped by revolution. Generations of hatred against Rome boiled over into a torrent of retribution. Thousands rode to war under the banners of Tullius and Coriolanus, as nation after nation launched one titanic effort to destroy the Roman menace once and for all. City after city fell before Coriolanus' implacable advance. First to fall was Circeii, whose Roman settlers were hurled out of the city. Then came Satricum, then Longula, then Polusca, then Lavinium, and then Corbio, Vitellia, Trebium, Labici and Pedum. The horde soon found itself before the walls of Corioli once more, and not for the first time did Coriolanus storm its lofty ramparts. The city fell once more into his hands, and chaos reigned in Rome, as one by one all her conquests over the centuries fell like the heads of maize in the harvest. But no spoil of war could cool the fire of Coriolanus. Soon the exile was only five miles from the Eternal City itself. As his eyes caught sight of the city which had wronged him so, his thoughts were of fire and blood and the evils of revenge.


Within the city, the people of Rome were beside themselves. Were it not for the common threat of invasion, the people may well have collapsed into absolute anarchy, so unstoppable did their new foe appear. The Senate called at once for the Consuls to rally the legions, but the men of Rome had no heart for war this time. Furious at their politicians, the people demanded an embassy be sent for one last attempt at peace. Overruled, the Senate dispatched its envoys with all haste. The ambassadors entered the Volscian camp and came before Coriolanus, and to their shock, saw that exile "far from crushing his spirit, had strengthened his determination". Their mission futile, they made their swift escape. Trying one last time, the city sent forth an embassy of priests, who found the Volscian lines barred to them. All hope appeared lost, and Rome might become nothing more than a footnote in the pages in history.

But then, the women of Rome rushed to the house of Coriolanus' family in Rome. In their desperate passion, they called for Veturia, the mother of their one time hero, to help. Her face lined with age, she resolutely set forth, the wife and two sons of Coriolanus in tow. Stunned by the sight before them, the Volscians stood transfixed as Veturia, her son's mother, marched with unbridled determination. Coriolanus, about to give the command to storm the city, could not believe his eyes. Rising from his seat with a start, he made to embrace his mother, but his nerve was cowed by the face he saw before him now. Every inch of her aged face was lined with fury, as she began to speak the words which since entered legend:

Coriolanus and his Mother
Painting by Poussin

"I would know... before I accept your kiss, whether I have come to an enemy or to a son, whether I am here as your mother or as a prisoner of war. Have my long life and unhappy old age brought me to this, that I should see you first an exile, then the enemy of your country? Had you the heart to ravage the earth which bore and bred you? When you set foot upon it, did not your anger fall away, however fierce your hatred and lust for revenge? When Rome was before your eyes, did not the thought come to you, 'within those walls is my home, with the gods that watch over it - and my mother and my wife and my children?' Ah, had I never borne a child, Rome would not now be menaced; if I had no son, I could have died free in a free country! But now there is nothing left for me to endure, nothing which can bring to me more pain, and to you a deeper dishonour, than this. I am indeed an unhappy woman - but it will not be for long; think of these others who, if you cannot relent, must hope for nothing but an untimely death or life-long slavery."

At this, his wife and two young sons flung their arms around Coriolanus' neck, and at last, he could bear it no more. Tears flowed from his eyes as he saw the ruin he had brought upon Rome, and the burden of anger was borne away from his wrathful mind. Even the most savage of the Volscian men were turned to pity and compassion by the sight before their eyes, their hatred ebbing away. Coriolanus bade the Volscians stand down, and declared peace between the two nations, but, his honour of old still shining through, declared he could never set foot in Rome again, and of his own accord marched forth into exile. In Rome, meanwhile, where once there was violence and discord, euphoria now took its golden throne. The doors of the temples were thrown open, the people sang and danced in the streets, and rich and poor alike shouted their triumph to the stars...

United Kingdom

The Early History of Rome:
The Early History of Rome: Bks. 1-5 (Penguin Classics)
(The story of the Rise of Rome, written by her greatest historian, which contains the accounts of many of Rome's heroes, including Coriolanus)

United States

The Early History of Rome:
Livy: The Early History of Rome, Books I-V (Penguin Classics) (Bks. 1-5)
(The story of the Rise of Rome, written by her greatest historian, which contains the accounts of many of Rome's heroes, including Coriolanus) 

Heroes of the Republic

Some months ago, we looked at the story of Horatius Cocles, and his incredible valour in defence of the city of Rome at the birth of the Republic (for the story, please click here). Through tremendous bravery, Rome had been saved from destruction at the hands of the Etruscans, and their mighty King Lars Porsenna of Clusium. Yet, despite this extraordinary moment, Tarquinius Superbus, the exiled seventh and final King of Rome, refused to give in. Through treachery, deceit and lies he had been forced from his rightful throne, and would not so easily be stopped in getting it back...

The City of Clusium today
Photograph taken by the author

Though impressed by Horatius' fortitude, Lars Porsenna pushed forward, and for the first time since her foundation two hundred and forty four years earlier, Rome herself endured the humiliation of a siege. Tarquin demanded Porsenna to force the surrender of Rome, and the submission of her people to him once more. Not only had the Romans expelled him from the city, the Senate had decreed that the property of Tarquin was now public land. The theft of his land drove the king into fits of rage at the very mention of his old city. Fearing the might of the Tarquins still, Porsenna dared not disobey his fellow king and ally. Through his own strategic brilliance, Porsenna cut off Rome from her supplies, and overran her lands, but could not extinguish the city itself, well defended as it was. The siege grew in its ferocity. Starvation began to stalk the streets of Rome, slowly strangling the life out of her people. The Senate, in desperation, sent envoys to the Latin cities to the South, calling for aid. Alas it was in vain, for the Latin ambassadors saw the Roman plight as hopeless, and made their peace with the Etruscans. Rome was on her own. Lars Porsenna, a shrewd yet honourable man, saw the desperation of the Romans, sent envoys to the city one last time. The war, and their famine, could all be over if they would just accept Tarquin once more. Though dire was their state, the Romans held their honour still. Never again would a Roman bow to an Etruscan King, and the envoys returned with a defiant refusal to their king. The end seemed near, for though they retained their freedom, for now, it seemed they had condemned themselves to death. It was from this hopelessness that a man emerged among the Romans.


His name was Gaius Mucius, an aristocrat of considerable position, yet little known at the time, but whose name would one day be legend. Unable to tolerate the shame that Rome now endured any longer, Mucius summoned the Senate to put forward a proposition. Careful to avoid revealing too much, lest a traitor unveil his ploy to the foe, Mucius' request was cryptic, yet brief. "'I wish', he said, 'to cross the river and to enter, if I can, the enemy's lines. My object is neither plunder nor reprisals, but, with the help of God, something more important than either'". Intrigued, and filled with desperate hope, the Senate granted his request. Concealing a dagger in his clothes, Mucius took leave of the city.

Scaevola thrusts his hand into the fire
Painting by Rubens and Van Dyck

Emerging on the far side of the Tiber, Mucius approached the Etruscan camp. Successfully deceiving the guard on account of his not carrying any weapon openly, and his knowledge of their language, which he had learned from his Etruscan nurse as a boy, Mucius made his way to the heart of their encampment. Passing the endless stretches of tents, Mucius came at last to a clearing, in which a vast crowd were gathered, all apparently queuing before a raised dais at the centre. Atop the platform there were seated two men in magnificent attire - robed in purple and bearing the symbols of power, each looked every part the king of the great city of Clusium. No one stopped Mucius as he approached, seeing no weapon, and now was his chance. But he was wracked with uncertainty. He did not know what Porsenna looked like - which was he?! One of the two was receiving a great many addresses from the crowd, and Mucius reasoned that this must be the king. With a shout of fury, Mucius revealed his concealed blade, and drove it into the man. In an instant, as blood spurted from the man's throat, a hundred pairs of hands seized Mucius and dragged him before the other man. Mucius realised to his horror that he had stabbed the wrong man, for it was the king's secretary now lifeless on the floor. It was pay day for the army, and the soldiers had simply been collecting their wages from him. There was no help at hand, the situation was desperate. But brave Mucius flinched not once as the true Lars Porsenna fixed him with a baleful glare, demanding to know who this man was before he died:


"'I am a Roman', he said to the king, 'my name is Gaius Mucius. I came here to kill you - my enemy. I have as much courage to die as to kill. It is our Roman way to do and to suffer bravely. Nor am I alone in my resolve against your life; behind me is a long line of men eager for the same honour. Gird yourself, if you will, for the struggle - a struggle for your life from hour to hour, with an armed enemy always at your door. That is the war we declare against you: you need fear no action in the field, army against army; it will be fought against you alone, by one of us at a time...'"
                   - SCAEVOLA'S THREAT

Scaevola and Porsenna
Painting by Matthias Stom

In rage mingled with alarm, Porsenna at once ordered the prisoner to be burned alive unless he immediately revealed the plot he at alluded to. Mucius, with a shout of "See how cheap men hold their bodies when they care only for honour!", thrust his right hand into the nearby fire, and left it there to burn. The flames roared and licked his arm, and his flesh charred away, yet Mucius held it still. Never once did the Roman shout in pain, never once did he flinch in agony, never once did he pass out through pain. The gathered crowd looked on, stunned into silence, unable to believe what they saw. Porsenna himself, astonished at Mucius' seemingly divine endurance, ordered his guards to set the man free, so impressed was he. The king blessed his staggering courage, and promised Mucius that "I, as an honourable enemy, grant you pardon, life and liberty". Withdrawing his hand from the conflagration without any hint of the terrible agony he had just felt, Mucius bowed, and revealed to the king that three hundred other men, young and of noble blood like himself, had all sworn to kill him in their turn, and that he drew the first lot. "The rest will follow, each in his turn and time, until fortune favour us and we have got you". So impressed was the King of Clusium at the valour of the Roman people, and so shaken was he at the thought of three hundred more assassins, he at once bade envoys to go to Rome to negotiate peace.


Mucius returned to Rome a hero. He became known ever after as Scaevola (Latin for ' the Left-Handed Man') and his fame was everlasting, his descendants holding the very highest offices of state in the Republic for centuries to come. The people of Rome shouted his name, and the Senate lavished gifts upon him, and even today, you will find Scaevola and the immolation of his hand immortalised through painting in the finest palaces across the world. Soon the ambassadors of the Clusian King came before the Senate once more. Lars Porsenna had been astounded by the resolve of the Romans, but had not yet been robbed of his sense of reality. Once again, bound by honour to his ally, he urged the Romans to accept Tarquin's rule. Once again, the Romans refused. Unfazed, the king demanded the return of territory to the Etruscans that Rome had taken in ages past. Seeing this as fair, the Senate agreed, on the condition that the Etruscans withdraw their garrison from the Janiculum Hill. This Porsenna agreed to, on the condition that he be handed over hostages as a sign of good faith. Both sides agreed, and the Clusians withdrew with their prisoners.

Cloelia and the women of Rome
Painting by Rubens

But such was the heroism of Scaevola, now all Romans were inspired to emulate him. Another hero of the Republic now rose, though this time it was no great nobleman or warrior, but a young girl. Not long after Scaevola's triumphant return, on the banks of the Tiber alongside the Etruscan camp, the hostages lay. Rising up, the maiden Cloelia rallied the women in the camp to action, for the sake of their honour. Then, for the glory of Rome, she hurled herself into the Tiber, breaking free of the guards. Under a hailstorm of arrows and javelins, the women followed her, shaking off their bonds and forcing their escape. With selfless devotion, Cloelia led them all ashore and back to the city. Tarquin was furious that the treaty had been broken, and ordered Porsenna to take them back. But the King of Clusium had never before been faced with such a conflict within. The women were received with more glory than even Horatius and Scaevola, and the morale of the Roman people soared to towering heights. The Senate, however, ridden with guilt over the breach of the oath, send ambassadors to Porsenna, declaring that the women had acted of their own accord, and not under order. The king was impressed at the valour of the women of Rome, and requested only that they return Cloelia as a hostage - the others, he declared, were free. He assured them, however, that he believed Cloelia to be greater than Scaevola or Horatius, and that if they returned her, he would set her free too.


Both Roman and Etruscan were loyal to honour, and ill feeling between Roman and Clusian was sapping away. Cloelia willingly returned of her own accord to Porsenna. The guards approached to restrain her, but Porsenna stayed their hand. Praising her and offering his protection, the king offered her to choose which other hostages she might take with her back to Rome. It is said that off all of them, she chose the young men out of her maiden modesty, and so that Rome's future could be assured. Delighted, Porsenna ordered them all released, and not for the first time, Cloelia was received in triumph back in Rome. To her the Senate accorded a special honour - they raised a magnificent statue of her on horseback on the Sacred Way, an accolade no woman had ever received before.

Cloelia and the women of Rome make their escape
Painting by Wouters

Tarquin, however, was vehement in his condemnation. When he sent forth a squadron to intercept the women on their return, Porsenna's mind was made up, and they were protected. The Roman Senate, grateful for his support, sent to the Etruscan King a rare embassy. Roman and Clusian could be enemy no more, but friend. The Roman ambassadors urged Lars Porsenna not to ask again if they would accept the yoke of the Tarquins. "There was not a man in the city who did not pray that the end of liberty, should it come, might also be the end of Rome", and they urged Porsenna that, "if he had the good of Rome at heart, to accept the fact that she would never surrender liberty". Lars Porsenna of Clusium was deeply impressed. "'Since', he said, 'it is clear that nothing can shake your determination, I will no longer weary you with requests which I know now to be useless; nor shall I deceive the Tarquins with the hope of aid which I have no power to give. They must find - by force of arms or otherwise, as they please - some other place to spend exile in: for nothing must disturb the friendly relations between myself and Rome'". The king's actions spoke even greater than his words, as he released all prisoners, and returned to Rome to territory he had taken. Severing his alliance once and for all, he renounced his cause to restore the Tarquins to the Roman throne. After a public vote, the Roman people gave to Porsenna a throne of ivory, a crown of gold and a triumphal robe. Peace was at hand. Rome and Clusium parted company as firm friends. But there was one among them all who was far from happy. For Tarquin the Proud withdrew in cold fury. The Siege of Rome was over, but Tarquin's ambition was not. For he was a Roman King, and once a Roman, always a Roman. He could never give in. Setting out one final time, Rome's old king would return in vengeance, and deliver one last blow to the city which had betrayed him...


United Kingdom

Livy:
The Early History of Rome: Bks. 1-5 (Penguin Classics)
(The full story of the Rise of Rome, from its humble origins to its mastery of the world, which recounts the stories of the heroism of the Romans during the siege)

Dionysius of Halicarnassus:
Roman Antiquities: v.3: Vol 3 (Loeb Classical Library)
(The third volume of a vast history of Rome, told with more detail than Livy, and in more archaic language)

United States

Livy:
Livy: The Early History of Rome, Books I-V (Penguin Classics) (Bks. 1-5)
(The full story of the Rise of Rome, from its humble origins to its mastery of the world, which recounts the stories of the heroism of the Romans during the siege)

Dionysius of Halicarnassus:
Dionysius of Halicarnassus: Roman Antiquities, Volume III, Books V-VI, 48 (Loeb Classical Library No. 357)
(The third volume of a vast history of Rome, told with more detail than Livy, and in more archaic language)

Nornagest

The coming of Christianity marked the end of an era in all the peoples it reached. The ways of the old gods faded into the ether, their talismans broken asunder by the sign of the cross. Some embraced the new religion selflessly, others laid down their lives to defend the old ways. Nearly one thousand years after the birth of Christ, this struggle reached the northern reaches of Scandinavia, a struggle epitomised in the life of one man - Nornagest.

The Norns weave the baby's fate
Print by Johannes Gehrts

Nearly seven centuries after Christ's crucifixion, a baby was born in the sweeping lands of Scandinavia. Thord, his father, a wealthy man, and joyful at being granted a son, prepared a magnificent banquet for his family and friends. People from far and wide joined in celebration that night, fawning over the baby and congratulating the parents, in between partaking in the lavish revelry the baby's father had generously provided. Such was the vibrancy of the celebrations that not one among them noticed the arrival of three guests. Gracefully moving through the crowds, three youthful women, draped in billowing cloth, came before the cradle. They gazed intently down at the baby, his small face illuminated by the flicker of two candles above his head. The three women were sisters, and illustrious guests. Bound though they were in mortal form, none present saw their true nature. For they were in truth the Norns, the three divine spirits of the Norselands who, wielding power over fate, were mighty deities indeed. The eldest of the Norns, Urðr, the spirit of the past, bent low over the child and declared that he would possess beauty and valour such that all men would one day admire. The second sister, Verðandi, the spirit of the present, stepped forward. The boy would one day grow to be greater than all his forbears as a poet. Just as the final sister moved forward, all gathered shouted with joy. For in the Viking lands, heroism came in many forms, and a man could be revered for his poetry as much as for his prowess in war. Skuld, the third and youngest of the Norns, envied the appraise of her elder sisters, resentful of the shadow they cast over her, the spirit of the future, who decided the future of all men. In the ribaldry and excitement, one of the guests was pushed around, knocking into Skuld, accidentally pushing her to the ground.


A deafening silence gripped the hall, as an atmosphere of fear descended upon the crowd. To their horror, the baby's parents saw Skuld shaking with fury as she got to her feet, her face veiled by her cloak. Pointing one long finger at one of the burning candles above the cradle, she shouted in rage "I assign his future, that he shall not live longer than that candle burns". Without another word, she stormed out of the hall. Taking pity on the distraught parents, Urðr walked over to the baby's mother. Extinguishing the flame, she urged her to hide the candle, lest it should ever burn down to its base, before she too followed her sisters out into the night. Shaken, the baby's parents named their son 'Nornagest', a word which means 'guarded by the Norns'.

The lands of Norway
Photograph taken by 'Olavfin'

Many years later, Nornagest grew up as Urðr and Verðandi had decreed, for his handsomeness was admired far and wide, and his mastery of poetry and the songlike voice with which he shared it, were revered throughout the lands of Scandinavia. Gathered around roaring fires, Nornagest enchanted audiences everywhere, his songs of the old gods and ancient times breathed glorious life into those legends like no other before ever had. His listeners did not just hear the thundering hooves of his stories, they saw the adventures of gods and men, and felt the emotion of the stories. Yet wherever he travelled, Nornagest was always careful to remember the warning from his mother, and kept the candle well-guarded, hidden in his harp. As long as the candle remained whole, Nornagest lived strong and could not die. For three hundred years Nornagest serenaded rich and poor alike, never growing old, neither in form nor voice. Nornagest had not changed. But the times were. New people were arriving in the northern lands. Missionaries from Rome. Slowly, but surely, the old ways were dying. The people, too, were dying. For the word of the Lord reached the ears of the cruel as well as the righteous. One such man was the King of Norway, Olaf Tryggvason. A fanatical tyrant wearing a mask of piety, King Olaf gave his people a choice - convert to the new faith, or die. It was to Olaf's mighty court that Nornagest one day made his way, one thousand years after the sacrifice of Christ.

The Death of Nornagest
Engraved print by Gunnar Vidar Forssell

The poet was warmly received at court, for as ever, his great name preceded his arrival. Nornagest, however, though his song and story touched the hearts of many around him, was beginning to despair and grow weary of the world. A relic of an older age, he felt like he no longer truly belonged, and could not understand this new world of wanton cruelty. His fellow men were, by force or will, turning their backs upon the very deities of whom he sang. King Olaf, surprised at Nornagest's nobility of bearing and strange presence, as though he were at once both young and old, hosted the bard overnight in the hall. Demanding he sing, Olaf listened to the musical voice of Nornagest. Even hard hearted Olaf could not fail to be impressed by the poet's song, but he twitched in anger at the mention of the names of the old gods, and stories of dragons and gold. Olaf questioned Nornagest as to his parentage, as the weary man told the king his story, of how the Norns had bound his fate whilst only a baby. An uneasy feeling gripped the room. Appalled at the mention of these heathen spirits, the king ordered Nornagest to declare if he had converted yet. The onlookers backed away, knowing all too well the king's wrath. "No", the bard defiantly remarked. "Your king does ill", the furious Olaf declared, "that he lets unbaptized men travel out of his realm among the lands". The king at once sent for holy water, and set about baptising Nornagest. The deed was done, and Olaf demanded of Nornagest:



                                            " How long do you wish to live?...
                                               Just a short time, if God wills it "
                                                         - KING OLAF AND NORNAGEST



Just then, the king remembered the old tale of the candle. "Where is that candle of yours?" Olaf ordered. Slowly, sensing what was coming, Nornagest withdrew the old candle from his harp. "You will light it", Olaf declared, "for the old gods are a falsehood and a lie". The poor man had no choice. Setting a flame in the wick, Nornagest watched as the wax began to soften in the heat. The onlooking crowd, having witnessed the king's reasoning many times before, turned away, having grown tired of watching another pagan being shown that his beliefs were wrong. Olaf turned to them to proudly claim that he had saved another soul.


But something was wrong. The first bead of wax slipped silently down the side of the candle, and a cold chill came over Nornagest. The candle burned brightly, and quickly. Soon another drop of wax fell. Some in the crowd turned, for Nornagest's singing had suddenly grown faint and weak. The candle glowed, burning lower and lower, and the poet shivered. Soon the entire hall except the king was watching, their eyes darting from Nornagest to the candle, and back again. A sudden draught, and the flame flickered threateningly. The poet shuddered violently. A soft hiss sounded throughout the hall, as the candle at last, after three hundred years, burnt out. A small wisp of smoke rose from where the last stretch of wick had stood. King Olaf, still facing the stunned crowd, jubilantly trumpeted the lies of Nornagest, and the falsehood that was his story. But no one was looking at the king. All eyes were on the great poet, his body now lying on the floor, an expression of serenity in his unmoving face. He was dead...

United Kingdom

Norna-Gest's þáttr:
Stories and Ballads of the Far Past: Translated from the Norse (Icelandic and Faroese) with Introductions and Notes
(A collection of Norse sagas, including Nornagest, translated from Icelandic and Faroese)

United States

Norna-Gest's þáttr:
Stories and Ballads of the Far Past: Translated from the Norse (Icelandic and Faroese) with Introductions and Notes
(A collection of Norse sagas, including Nornagest, translated from Icelandic and Faroese)

The Oath of the Horatii

Some months ago, you may remember the story of Publius Horatius Cocles, the great hero of the Republic, whose inspiring valour saved Rome from destruction at her hour of greatest peril (please click here for the story). It would have been with profound significance that the Romans looked upon Horatius in awe, for he was not the first of his line to shower glory upon his great city. Some one hundred and fifty years earlier, the ancestors of Horatius engaged in an epic duel to decide the fate of the great city, in a story Romans and their descendants would revere millennia later.

King Tullus Hostilius
Painting in the Capitoline Museums.

About one hundred years after the founding of the City, Rome was ruled by Tullus Hostilius, Third of the Seven Great Kings of Rome. As indeed his name suggests, Tullus was a warlike King. So powerful was his lust for war, Tullus even began to neglect the worship of the gods, something which would later spell his doom. But that was later. Scorning peace as the policy of the weak, and eager to raise the greatness of Rome, Tullus was most at home on the battlefield. Though many men harboured such ambitions in history, Tullus also possessed the ability to win, and was himself a fearsome presence to the enemies of Rome. So when news reached Rome that her pastures had been raided by the troops of the city of Alba Longa, Tullus needed little encouragement. As King, it was his duty to defend his people. The promise of glory was a mighty bonus. Yet Alba Longa was not just another city. War between Alba and Rome was like war between father and son. Both Romans and Albans were descended from the Royal Trojan line of Aeneas, and from Alba Longa had sprung the first men of Rome herself. The prospect of at last uniting the cities under one banner was a grand one, but who would be the master, Alba or Rome?

The Alban Lake - site of Alba Longa of old
Photograph taken by the author.

The envoys of Rome and Alba Longa met before the latter's city with a proposition. For a great dilemma plagued both King Tullus and Mettius Fufetius, the Alban ruler. Both Rome and Alba stood in the shadow of the formidable power of the Etruscans, a powerful people on land and at sea. Should Rome and Alba Longa wear each other out through war, Etruria would overrun them both. Yet honour and fate dictated that one of these great cities would triumph, the other to fall. Tullus, ever ready for glory, suggested that each city send forth its greatest champion to fight in single combat, offering himself to fight as the Roman champion and calling upon Fufetius to follow his example. Fufetius, however, did not have Tullus' bravery. Buckling at the sight of the great Roman King, he quickly suggested an alternative - that each city should choose three champions and put them into the field, as merely one on one was susceptible to the whims of chance as much as fate. Three was also a fortuitous number, containing within it a beginning, a middle and an end. Both Roman and Alban agreed, and each leader turned and stood before his own countrymen. The stakes were enormous, for the victor lay the path of greatness and Empire, for the loser, the path of slavery.

The Oath of the Horatii
Painting by Jacques-Louis David.

As both rulers addressed their men, a tremendous exultation broke out in both camps. For three among their number lay the promise of immortality, to fight for their country before the eyes of both cities and their Kings. So many were desperate to volunteer, both Tullus and Fufetius had great difficulty in finding just three champions. It so happened that Fate had furnished both Alba and Rome with three heroes. Many years before, a man of Alba Longa named Sicinius had married off his twin daughters, one to Horatius, a Roman, and the other to Curiatius, an Alban. Not long after, each daughter bore three boys, all endowed with nobility of mind, strength of body and perfection of form. Fufetius came to Tullus and reminded him of this, persuading the King that Fate must have been at work here. It so happened that the three Curiatii brothers were present in the Alban camp, and the three Horatii brothers were in the Roman camp. Fufetius told Tullus that the Curiatii eagerly agreed to fight, and Tullus resolved to approach the Horatii. Calling a ten day truce whilst the Romans decided, both parties withdrew.

Tullus came before the three Horatii brothers, and offered them the chance to fight, but expressed his concern that they would be challenging their own blood relatives to mortal combat. The King and the Senate had both agreed that no one would think worse of the Horatii if they refused because of this, but that immortal glory would be bestowed upon them should they prevail. The Horatii stayed their eagerness however, and informed Tullus that they wished greatly the honour he offered, but as dutiful sons they must first consult their father. Praising their devotion, Tullus granted them leave. Their father, giving joy to the gods for having granted him sons possessed of such noble bearing, embraced his three sons, imparting his blessing and bidding them go forth as men now, and that the choice must be theirs. Delighted, the Horatii came before the King and agreed to fight. Fate, they decreed, had already broken the ties of kinship between the two triplets.

The Fallen Roman Champions
Painting in the Capitoline Museums.

Both Alba and Rome returned to the field, and a fateful day. The six champions armed for battle, and both armies faced each other across the plain, both looking upon the ground marked out for the duel before them, both Kings nervous with the tension. As the brothers stepped onto the field, both Alba and Rome cheered their kin, calling upon their ancestors, their country and their gods to smile upon this day:

          " Careless of death and danger, each thought only of his country's fate,
            of the grim choice between lordship and ignominy, which they themselves,

            and they only, were about to decide... "

                            - THE CHAMPIONS GIRD FOR BATTLE

The Horatii and Curiatii swore an oath to uphold the pact, that neither would retreat, and all would honour the terms of combat. The trumpets blasted, and with a flash of steel and sweat, the duel began. The crash of blade upon shield was matched only by the shouts from both armies, as the champions fought hard. Just then, the dust from battle rose, and neither side was sure of the other, for the Roman and Alban champions were the image of each other, in face and sword arm. Just as the tension became unbearable, a great shout of triumph rose from the Alban ranks. The eldest of the Curiatii, showering blows upon one of the Roman Three, closed in for victory. The Roman champion, wavering through his many wounds, began to see the mist close over his eyes. The Alban seized his chance and thrust his sword through the Roman's groin. So the first of the six fell, and the Curiatii shouted in triumph, and the Romans grieved as though all were already lost. Enraged by his brother's fall, however, the closest Roman champion hurled himself on the celebrating Alban, striking again and again, his grief mixing with anger. In a great rage, the Roman drove his blade into the man's neck, and the second of the six fell lifeless to the dust. The Romans looked up and saw hope, and the pride of Alba Longa wounded.



The Triumph of Horatius
Painting in the Capitoline Museums.

But Fate was ever fickle, and the next Curiatius looked in dismay at his fallen brother, and the Alban and Roman champions slammed into each other. Both heroes lunged, and the Roman threw himself under the shield of his foe and slashed the Alban's thigh, blood spattering the ground. But the Alban's aim was truer. With a mighty strike, his sword was plunged deep into the Roman's back, piercing his bowels, and the third of the six fell. Now two of the Curiatii still lived, though one could barely stand, his wounded leg pouring forth blood, whilst only a single Roman champion was left. Alba Longa cried its coming victory, whilst the eyes of the Romans, and Tullus, were fixed upon Horatius, their last hope. The Alban champions surrounded Horatius, whose plight looked desperate. Spying that one of the Curiatii's wounds were grave, forced to support himself with his shield as he was, Horatius conceived a daring plan. Feigning cowardice, Horatius charged off into the distance. The Albans mocked the Romans and revelled in his apparent fear. The Romans chastised their champion for running in battle, lamenting as though all hope was lost. But then, reaching the edge of the arena, Horatius turned to face his foes. The Romans, tears in their eyes, raised their arms to the skies, praying to Father Jupiter. Taken aback by this sudden renewal of courage, the unwounded Alban champion's guard was down when Horatius slammed his sword into the man's arm, cleaving his elbow in two, before striking again in the man's chest. Thus the fourth of the six fell. The Albans looked on, stunned, whilst the Romans gained heart. Horatius sprinted across the field to engage the final foe, who was on the verge of passing out, and brought his sword down one last time, and the Heavens shook to the roar of triumph from the Romans...

Trouble and woes were yet to come for the Romans, and indeed Horatius, on their return to Rome. The curse of spilling kindred blood never rests, but the duel had been won, and for Rome the path of glory lay beyond, and the omens of her future looked magnificent. In a future post we shall see the aftermath of this great duel, and the tragedy which struck Rome soon after. The road to immortality was a long one...

The story of the duel was a national legend in the Roman consciousness, known by every Roman boy centuries afterward, and picked up by the generations beyond. The legend can be found in two ancient works, both readily available from Amazon:

United Kingdom

Livy:
The Early History of Rome: Bks. 1-5 (Penguin Classics)
(The full story of the Rise of Rome, including the duel of the Horatii and Curiatii)

Dionysius of Halicarnassus:
The Roman Antiquities: v. 2 (Loeb Classical Library)
(Part Two of an account of the Rise of Rome from a Romanised Greek, more detailed)

United States

Livy:
Livy: The Early History of Rome, Books I-V (Penguin Classics) (Bks. 1-5)
(The full story of the Rise of Rome, including the duel of the Horatii and Curiatii)

Dionysius of Halicarnassus:
Dionysius of Halicarnassus: Roman Antiquities, Volume II, Books 3-4 (Loeb Classical Library No. 347)
(Part Two of an account of the Rise of Rome from a Romanised Greek, more detailed)

Horatius at the Bridge

The rolling hills of Etruria
Photograph by the author

The birth of the Republic was a defining moment in the history of Rome, and marked a key turning point in the lives of its people. Since the founding of the City in 753 BC, Rome had seen the rule of Seven Great Kings, and had risen from a group of mud huts on the Palatine Hill to the first city in Latium. But two hundred and forty four years after the founding of the city, mobilised by the propaganda of Lucius Junius Brutus, the people of Rome had cast out their seventh King – Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, known infamously to history as Tarquin the Proud. Denounced as an arrogant tyrant, Tarquin had returned from a campaign one day to find the Gates of Rome sealed before him and the people jeering from the walls. Enraged, the King turned to his kin, the Etruscan peoples, to aid him in taking back his rightful throne. What later followed would be a conflict which would give rise to many heroes of the Republic, first among whom was the man who stood alone against the might of Etruria in defence of his city – Publius Horatius ‘Cocles’ (a name he bore in commemoration of an eye he lost in war).

Immortalised only seconds after his valiant defense, the fortitude of Horatius captured the visions of many great writers and poets of Rome and Greece. There was a time when every English schoolboy learned to memorise the words of one of my all time favourite works -Lord Macaulay’s famous poem Horatius. One man, one Roman against impossible odds, it was a golden age of older days, when heroes abounded and petty squabbles were not yet born, and legends were forged.

The King and his family were forced to flee Rome before the mob, and called on the might of the Etruscan League for aid. Many great cities answered Tarquin’s summons, including the powerful cities of Veii and Tarquinii, but greatest of all was the city of Clusium, and its widely renowned King Lars Porsenna. Seeing the danger, should Rome’s new idea of a Republic spread to other cities, Lars Porsenna raised his countrymen to war:

                                          “ Lars Porsenna of Clusium

                                                    By the Nine Gods he swore

                                            That the great House of Tarquin

                                                    Should suffer wrong no more.

                                            By the Nine Gods he swore it,

                                                    And named a trysting day,

                                            And bade his messengers ride forth,

                                                    East and West and South and North,

                                            To summon his array. ”

                                                              - LARS PORSENNA ROUSES ETRURIA TO WAR

Thus Etruria’s might marched on the young city of Rome. Within the city, panic abounded as the Republic sent forth its men to meet Porsenna, but was overrun on the Janiculum Hill. “The enemy forces came pouring down the Hill, while the Roman troops, throwing away their weapons, were behaving more like an undisciplined rabble than a fighting force”. The broken men fled across the great bridge, the Pons Sublicius, but among them one man stood firm:

Horatius
Engraving by Hendrik Goltzius

              

               “ Then out spake brave Horatius,

                           The Captain of the Gate:

                 'To every man upon this earth

                            Death cometh soon or late.

                  And how can men die better

                            Than facing fearful odds,

                  For the ashes of his fathers,

                            And the temples of his gods, ”

                          - HORATIUS STANDS FIRM

                        

  

 

Horatius stands alone
Painting in the Capitoline Museums

Among his fleeing countrymen, two men – Spurius Lartius and Titus Herminius – turned at his words, ashamed to abandon his side. The three pledged their lives to hold the Bridge, until it be destroyed behind them. Lest the Etruscans take the Bridge and the City itself, wealth and class no longer divided Rome, as senator and plebeian alike began to tear apart the timbers of the Bridge. Amused at the three men stood before them, many times the Etruscans charged, and many times the three threw them back. Soon the Bridge began to creak and groan, and Horatius bade loyal Lartius and Herminius to flee to the city, as he alone stood as the last planks fell. Cries flew from the city calling Horatius to return before the hour grew late, but the mighty warrior stood firm and dared Etruria's finest to take arms against him:

  “ For the pursuers, looking upon him as a madman who was courting death,

    Dared no longer come to grips with him... But standing massed at a distance,

    They hurled spears, javelins, and large stones at him,

    And those who were not supplied with these threw the swords and bucklers of the slain. ”

                                                     - THE ETRUSCANS TRY TO OVERCOME HORATIUS

Horatius mocked his foes as tyrant’s slaves and careless of their own liberty, and challenged all among them to single combat. The Etruscans were struck dumb at the sight before them, for:

                                             “ Alone stood brave Horatius,

                                                         But constant still in mind;

                                               Thrice thirty thousand foes before,

                                                        And the broad flood behind.

                                              ‘Down with him!’ cried false Sextus,

                                                       With a smile on his pale face.

                                              ‘Now yield thee’, cried Lars Porsenna,

                                                      ‘Now yield thee to our grace’. ”

                                                                 - HORATIUS STANDS DEFIANT

The great man’s wounds grew grave, as lance and arrow pierced his flesh. The air was rent with a mighty crack as Pons Sublicius crashed into the Tiber. His ploy successful, Horatius raised his eyes to the Heavens with prayer:

The goddess Roma spurs on Horatius
Painting by Charles Le Brun

                        

                                         “ ‘Oh Tiber! Father Tiber!

                                                      To whom the Romans pray,

                                             A Roman’s life, a Roman’s arms

                                                      Take thou in charge this day!’

                                             So he spake, and speaking sheathed

                                                      The good sword by his side,

                                              And with his harness on his back,

                                                       Plunged headlong in the tide. ”

                                                              - HORATIUS PRAYS TO FATHER TIBER

A shout of triumph from the city, as their saviour crossed the Tiber, a moan of despair from their foe. But the currents of the Tiber were strong, and the wounded hero fought hard to reach the Latin banks:

                                          “ ‘Curse on him!’ qouth false Sextus;

                                                     ‘Will not the villain drown?

                                              But for this stay, ere close of day

                                                      We should have sacked the town!’

                                             ‘Heaven help!’ quoth Lars Porsenna

                                                     ‘And bring him safe to shore;

                                              For such a gallant feat of arms

                                                      Was never seen before. ”

                                                               - LARS PORSENNA ADMIRES HORATIUS

People rushed from their homes to see brave Horatius, sure they were of the mortality of his wounds. But Horatius lived and was hailed a hero of the Republic. A bronze statue was raised to him in the most prominent part of the Forum, and to him was gifted as much land as he could drive a plough around in one day. Rome was saved, but the siege continued, and pestilence struck the Seven Hills. The blockade began to hit home, and starvation became the norm, yet for all their toil, each man ensured that one among them would not die for want of food.

The story of Horatius was legendary in Ancient times, it is no less so in modern times. Lord Macaulay's poem was responsible for the rise in the popularity of the legend once more, and is a personal favourite of my own. The story can be found in many sources, all of which can be acquired very easily from Amazon:

United Kingdom

A Roman Account:
The Early History of Rome: Bks. 1-5 (Penguin Classics)
(The full story of the Rise of Rome, including the defence of Horatius)

A Greek Account:
Roman Antiquities: v.3: Vol 3 (Loeb Classical Library)
(An account of the legendary rise of Rome from a Romanised Greek perspective)

Lord Macaulay's Poem:
Lays of Ancient Rome (Dodo Press)
(An iconic and expertly crafted poetic retelling) 

United States

A Roman Account:
Livy: The Early History of Rome, Books I-V (Penguin Classics) (Bks. 1-5)
(The full story of the Rise of Rome, including the defence of Horatius)

A Greek Account:
Dionysius of Halicarnassus: Roman Antiquities, Volume III, Books V-VI, 48 (Loeb Classical Library No. 357)
(An account of the legendary rise of Rome from a Romanised Greek perspective)

Lord Macaulay's Poem:
The Lays of Ancient Rome
(An iconic and expertly crafted poetic retelling)