The Songs of Slaves

by David Rodgers

  The difficulty in writing about the Fifth Century is that anachronism comes both from the future and from the past. Much of what the average educated person knows about the Roman Empire comes from its heyday – say Caesar Augustus through 180 A.D. The world of the Fifth Century had already changed substantially in every way. Even before the freezing of the Rhine in 406 and the sack of Rome in 410, the West was gradually beginning to resemble Dark Age Europe and the East was becoming what we know as the Byzantine Empire. This is, of course, seldom reflected in popular sources (i.e. TV documentaries, movies, survey classes, and even historical novels). We can forgive this oversight at times – given their budgets, who can blame the documentary makers for raiding the Ben Hur costume warehouse, and some works are intentionally trying to juxtapose the “pure” classical from that which followed. But overall we must tread carefully.

  The most deliberate anachronism in this novel is, of course, Connor. My original question in writing this novel was “how would a modern, or at least reasonably enlightened person deal with such a chaotic world?” and so I set out to create one. Connor is born outside of the Imperium so he has more of a sense of autonomy and less respect for order than a Roman would probably have. Titus gave him a hardline classical education, which represents that aspect of our own culture; but he gained more of an organic, emotional sense of spirituality from the Celtic influences of Dervel and the others. Yet his faith is challenged and at times eroded by the tragedies and challenges he faces. This combination of personal freedom with Classical/Christian influences divided by the humility of pragmatism is the closest approximation of a contemporary individual within the paradigm of that society. However, though Connor is as such an anachronism, the mechanisms of his origin and travels are historically valid. Were there many classically trained, escaped slave, Irish Pankration experts serving alongside the Goths at the siege of Rome? Not likely. Could there have been one or two? Yes.

  Other seeming anachronisms in this book represent a best guess model. Some things exist in small form long before they exist in large form. This is especially true the further back you go due to the slow movement of communications and the scarcity of resources. The mention of Ois ki Baha in Chapter One may refer to the distilled drink whiskey (distillation is thought to have spread through the influence of the Irish monastic system, especially during the Eighth Century) or it could simply be referring to strong mead. The references to Cu Challain in chapters one, two and elsewhere reflect the earlier oral tradition on which the Eleventh Century work was based on. Titus’ book is not meant to be the Book of Kells or other illuminated manuscript just like it (note that it was the Gospel of John in Greek, not the other three in Latin), but an early model representing a spark in the fire that was to come. The garrison in Rome using square scutum and pilum javelins when the armies on the frontiers had long since moved to oval or round shields and spiculum is based on the belief that the Romans, being proud conservatives (who had even outlawed the wearing of pants in their city because of their barbarian origins) may have wanted their garrison to reflect tradition. Plus the pilum was just too interesting and under-rated a weapon for me to pass up. In the same way, other anachronisms – such as Rufus invoking Ockham’s Razor – are small statements meant to show the similarities between these people and ourselves. Much of what we now hold as inviolate science was hinted at in the graspings of ancient philosophy, theology, and literature.

  Religion in the Fifth Century

  Edward Gibbon described Rome’s attitude towards religion prior to the rise of Christianity as such: “All religions were thought to be by the layperson, equally true; by the philosopher, equally false; and by the ruler, equally useful.”

  It was not so much for its inherent doctrines that Christianity was originally suppressed, but because of its insistence that it was the sole truth – especially as expressed in the Christians’ stubborn refusal to honor the Emperor as divine and to otherwise refuse to participate in the Pax Deium. However, centuries of suppression with varying degrees of brutality did not stop the advance of this religion, especially with its message of redemption and equality to the millions of destitute and downtrodden within the Empire. In the early Fourth Century, Constantine the Great embraced Christianity, ending the persecutions and even offering material incentives to citizens who converted to this “new” faith. Throughout the Fourth Century, Christianity and Paganism were in fierce competition with each other. This period of governmental tolerance ended however, with the Battle of Frigidus and the reign of Theodosius in 398. So by the dawning of the Fifth Century, Paganism was outlawed (though still very much alive, constrained to secrecy) and Christianity was ascendant. But herein arose a new problem: what was Christianity? For most of its history, the Church had been banned, persecuted, and forced into the shadows. Because of this, your typical local church may have been quite isolated from other churches except for that which could have been achieved through the clandestine structure. Moreover, the resources of any given church may have varied widely. Rather than having what we think of as a Bible, these churches may have only had a gospel or two and a few epistles (some of which were perhaps later rejected as non-canonical). On top of this, everyone interprets sacred writ differently. Thus, when Christianity could finally emerge into the light under Constantine it turned out that there was very little consensus as to what was doctrinally acceptable and what was not. Constantine did what he could to clear this problem up at the Council of Nicea in 338; but even this event was 1) under-represented, as only twenty percent of the bishops were in attendance, and 2) hotly contested. Even in the end, when Athanasius (with the Trinitarians) had beaten Arius (with the non-Trinitarians) there was only the beginning of some agreement. Unfortunately, this turned out to be the type of consensus that drew lines instead of joined people together. Demonstrating the level of chaos we are talking about – consider that though he had sponsored the council, Constantine himself ultimately was baptized by an Arian priest. By the year 427, the official Church had catalogued no less than 400 of what it considered to be active heretical groups within the Empire.

  Now, here in the Twenty-First Century none of these distinctions may seem important. But in the ancient world religion played a pivotal role in almost everyone’s lives. The end result of all of this religious maneuvering was that the average person was very ill-informed and confused as far as what he believed or was supposed to believe. This confusion probably added to the common person’s feeling of being adrift as the migrations and civil wars carved up and devoured the old order.

  Paganism is itself an anachronistic word, stemming from the Middle Ages. Used by the powers at the time to deride and persecute those of another mindset, it literally means “country” or “rural”, with the connotation being that it is somehow backward and unsophisticated. The word is also generally not capitalized. I used this word for lack of a better blanket term for the non-Christian religions (making the same distinction adversaries of Paganism in the Fifth Century would have), but I have capitalized it throughout the book as it reflects legitimate, classical religious traditions.

  Paganism took on some interesting features in Late Antiquity. Forgotten were the days when Greeks solely worshipped Greek gods and Egyptians worshipped Egyptian gods, et cetera; the people of the Third, Fourth, and Fifth Centuries with their more urbanized, pan-imperial culture, worshipped particular gods without regard to geographical association. Somewhere along the line, the religion of Late Antiquity took on a distinctly synchronistic character; with the similarities of gods being emphasized over any differences. As a result, the rigid structures of the old pantheons were downplayed, and the classical gods evolved in both their particular status and character. Some of this was by design – for example, by syncretizing Jupiter with several of the Egyptian gods, the Romans could introduce Serapis to bring the proud Egyptians closer into the cultural imperial fold. Others were the result of various influences – for example, Apollo blending with elements of Easte
rn religion to form the Third and Fourth Century mega-god, Sol Invictus.

  Another aspect of Paganism in Late Antiquity was the popularity and influence of cults. Abreast of public religion, sects of secret religion began to thrive. The diverse origins of these particular cults attest to the diversification of the Empire – with soldiers along the northern frontiers often belonging to the cult of the heavily syncretized Persian god Mithras or upper-class women in Italy belonging to the cult of the Anatolian goddess Cybele. In this novel, I feature the cult of Isis. Once mother of Egyptian goddesses, Isis gained a widespread secret following especially amongst women. Like Christianity, the cult appealed to the lower social classes and to those with social constraints placed upon them. Very little is actually known of the practices of the cult, attesting to the effectiveness of their secrecy. It is known that initiates worshipped in underground or otherwise hidden temples known as Iseum (that Lucia practices in groves of trees instead may have been because her mother had syncretized the old druidic rites of her people with the teachings of the Isian cult, or just simply a matter of her own aesthetics or practicality). While it may have begun as a cult that emphasized fairly primitive fertility rites (as Sergius accuses in this novel), the outspokenly anti-pagan Fourth Century bishop Saint Ambrose allegedly commended the Isian cult for their discipline and chaste behavior (probably on account of their practice of rigorous fasting in regards to food, sex, and other pleasures). If he is right, then one could easily wonder what role this movement had on the female component of the monastic movement that was soon to follow. This again just illustrates how in the ancient world things could change or be completely confused. As in all these things, I will leave the reader to their own conclusions.

  Ireland was outside of the confines of the Empire, protected not only by the wind and waves but also by the savage reputation of its people. The citizens of Roman Britain suffered many raids and even large attacks from the Irish Sea during this time period. Though the rural parts of Roman Britain were experiencing a gradual rejection of the Roman culture and religion that still dominated in the cities, the Irish raiders would have taken many a Christian slave back with them. One of these slaves would become Saint Patrick, who became active in Ireland around the 430’s. But though Patrick is credited with the conversion of Ireland, it is not accurate to say that he found the place entirely Pagan and left it entirely Christian. Both through the influence of Brittonic slaves and through the work of earlier missionaries, Ireland in 398-408 would have been as I described it – Pagan, but co-existing with small pockets of the strange new religion. One of these early missionaries was Saint Declan. Though time frames vary and are heavily intermeshed with legend, Declan was active in the south of Ireland around the beginning of the Fifth Century up through Patrick’s time.

  The remoteness of Ireland would make it a haven from much of the chaos of Dark Age Europe. In this comparably safe place the monastic movement would incubate and grow. These secluded centers of learning would not only foment the thought and theology of the Early Middle Ages, but would also famously preserve much of the light of the Classical World. Some of the arts of Antiquity were preserved by the Byzantines, and some even by the Persians and later the Islamic world; but a great portion of what has come down to us from the zenith of the Greeks and the Romans has come to us through the tireless, fastidious pens of these Medieval Irish scribes. Without their work and devotion over the centuries, much of what we now know would have been lost. As I have read ancient philosophy, I have been struck by just how much of it is ideas that are very familiar to all of us. The reason for this familiarity is because what we know and believe and the way we approach thinking and learning are based on these early ideas. Much of who we are, both as individuals and as a culture, would be missing or entirely different if not for the monks of some faraway place and time sitting in a dim, cold room copying it all by hand and passing it on. I ended Chapter Thirty by tying Connor into this event; not to suggest that this rescue of classical thought happened all at once or was the work of any one person, but just to present one link of the chain between then and now.

  Acknowledgements

  I researched this period and topics related to this writing for a number of years, and read everything I could find in English. As such, it is impossible to render a complete list of sources. Understandably, some of the information was contradictory, and I had to meld the sources into what was the more probable. There were a number of books and sources that I relied on more heavily, which deserve recognition.

  First amongst these would be Sir Edward Gibbon’s The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, originally finished in 1788. While vague at times, this masterwork provides a great sense of the sweep of history. Having read about every classical source, Gibbon is able to provide a view of events that considers numerous angles; and for this reason – as well as the great style of the prose – more than two hundred years later it is still the book that other books are based on.

  A more contemporary survey, but one that is good for many of the same reasons, is John Julius Norwich’s three-volume Byzantium. Focusing on the Eastern Empire, Norwich offers a perspective that many other historians miss. Though only the first chapters of his works are relevant to this book; I would recommend the three volumes to everyone, as they provide a view into a section of history that is all but forgotten by the mainstream.

  Professor J.B. Burry’s The Invasion of Europe by the Barbarians is another time-honored source that is similar to Gibbon’s work in terms of research and style, but goes into greater depth into the Germanic perspective. A more contemporary source that covers much of the same subject matter – and one of the first books I read on the topic – is Barbarians and Romans, The Birth Struggle of Europe, A.D. 400-700 by Justine David Randers-Pehrson. It was actually a line from Randers-Pehrson’s book that inspired me to write this one.

  A book that I kept by my elbow as I wrote the latter half of this novel is AD 410 – The Year That Shook Rome by Sam Moorhead and David Stuttard. Along with providing a good understanding of the events, this book went farther than any others into their actual sequence. The timelines, maps, and blow-by-blow account of the politics found in the work proved invaluable to me in keeping this novel as close to the facts as possible.

  Much of the information of slavery herein is based on The Slave Systems of Greek and Roman Antiquity by William L. Westerman, as well as the aforementioned sources. For other questions of everyday Roman life, the military, et cetera, I found that sometimes the best place to explore the answer was with the various well-established reenactment groups, such as Nova Roma (novaroma.org). A fantastic online source can also be found at roman-empire.net.

  Another glimpse of life in Late Antiquity, as well as an invaluable source in understanding the religious turmoil of the day is Giusto Traina’s 428 AD: An Ordinary Year at the End of the Roman Empire.

  Though only the first few chapters are relevant to this book, the popular history How the Irish Saved Civilization by Thomas Cahill provides a good account of the early conflicts between Celtic and Catholic Christianity touched on in the first section of this novel, as well as inspiring some of the thematic framework I would return to.

  Though works of historical fiction, I have learned a great deal from the excellent books of Dr. Harry Sidebottom (Warrior of Rome series) and Wallace Bream (The Eagle in the Snow). Of course, I could not neglect to include in these acknowledgements Bernard Cornwell, whose masterful novels have taught me a great deal about experiencing history.

  Most of the quoted material from Aristotle, Marcus Aurelius, the Bible, et cetera is from academic online libraries and are old enough translations, I believe, to be public domain. A few quotes are hopefully faithfully rendered though they are simply from memory; and the scholarly reader will find a few that may have some paraphrase or arrangement of my own.

  Finally, I would like to acknowledge and thank my family; especially my wife and my older brother for their assistance wi
th editing, support, and for always showing an interest.