rome | Author Suzanne Adair

Women Gladiators? Really?

Posted on July 28, 2015 by suzanneadairJuly 27, 2015

Relevant History welcomes Faith L. Justice, who writes award-winning fiction and articles in Brooklyn, New York. Her work appeared in such publications as Salon.com, Writer’s Digest, and The Copperfield Review. She is a frequent contributor to Strange Horizons and Associate Editor for Space and Time Magazine. For fun, she likes to dig in the dirt—her garden and various archaeological sites. To learn more about Faith’s books, check out her web site and blog. Follow her on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.

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Yes, really! Whenever I pitched Sword of the Gladiatrix as my “lesbian gladiator novel,” I encountered raised eyebrows and skeptical snorts. The first question everyone asked: “Were there really lesbian gladiators?” My answer: “Of course!” We know there were female gladiators fighting in arenas for several centuries. Some had to be lesbian.

What really surprised people was the fact of female gladiators. They rarely appear in popular culture. Despite the popularity of “Xena Warrior Princess” and the myths of the Amazons, female gladiators don’t come to mind in the media-soaked imaginings of brutal, bloody, gladiatorial games. Women warriors? Maybe. Women gladiators? No. Yet they are there in grave markers, classical literature, laws, and art. All you have to do is look.

The Writers
One organizer in Ostia brags on his tombstone that he was the first person to put women in the arena as fighters. Tacitus in his Annals mentions that Emperor Nero regularly had female gladiators in his shows. Suetonius tells us in his Life of Domitian that the Emperor once staged a performance at night where women fought other women by torchlight. Martial in his description of the entertainments in the Flavian Arena (the Coliseum) compared the women’s feats to those of Hercules.

These women fighters weren’t all captives, slaves, or from the lower classes. Juvenal in his Satires mocks women from the senatorial class who chose to join the gladiatorial ranks: “…and look how their little heads strain under such weighty helmets and how thick bandages of coarse bark support their knees.” Dio Cassius wrote of Nero, “There was another exhibition that was at once most disgraceful and most shocking, when men and women not only of the equestrian but even of the senatorial order appeared as performers in the orchestra, in the Circus, and in the hunting-theatre, like those who are held in lowest esteem…they drove horses, killed wild beasts, and fought as gladiators, some willingly and some sore against their will.”

The Lawyers
Some of the strongest evidence we have of female gladiators is in the law—recruiting and fighting women was banned, not once, not twice, but three times! Augustus, the first emperor, implemented lots of laws restricting women. Among them, in AD 11, he decreed that freeborn females under the age of twenty were forbidden from appearing on the stage or in the arena. In AD 19, he extended that to prohibit “gladiatorial recruitment of daughters, granddaughters, and great-granddaughters of senators or of knights, under the age of twenty.” In 200, Emperor Septimus Severus banned single combat by women in the arena because of “recrudescence among some upper-class women, and the raillery this provoked among the audience.” These prohibitions probably made the fights all the more popular, human nature being what it is.

The Artists
Although we have no mosaics showing female gladiators, we do have a couple of art depictions: a bronze statue of a woman in gladiatorial dress and a stone relief found in Halicarnassus (modern Bodrum, Turkey) showing two women equipped as gladiators and fighting without helmets. The Greek inscription on the stone relief says Amazon and Achillia (obviously stage names) fought bravely. I saw this piece in the British Museum and the image of those two women haunted me. They were real women who lived and died centuries ago. Who were they? Where did they come from? How did they feel about their lives? That’s when I decided to tell their story. Well, not their story—no one knows their background or fates. I had to create my own characters.

One of the non-fiction authors I consulted felt Nero encouraged the expansion of women in the games, so I looked closely at his reign and found two remarkable events that happened, in the same time frame, at opposite ends of the Empire: an expedition to Kush and the British revolt. Both involved cultures where women were valued as more equal partners in life and government than in Rome, and both had powerful queens who defied Roman power—one unsuccessfully in battle, one successfully with guile. These cultures provided plausibly strong (both in body and character) female protagonists. I created Afra and Cinnia to stand in for those two women carved on the stone. I hope you enjoy their story in Sword of the Gladiatrix.

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A big thanks to Faith Justice. She’ll give away a copy of Sword of the Gladiatrix to someone who contributes a comment on my blog this week. I’ll choose the winner from among those who comment by Friday at 6 p.m. ET. Delivery is available worldwide. (A winner in the US or Canada may choose between an ebook or trade paperback.)

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Alternating History?

Posted on June 2, 2015 by suzanneadairJune 2, 2015

Relevant History welcomes alternate history author Alison Morton. Raised by a feminist mother and an ex-military father, it never occurred to Alison that women couldn’t serve their country in the armed forces. After six years, she left as a captain, having done all sorts of interesting and exciting things she can’t talk about, even now. Fascinated by the complex, power and value-driven Roman civilisation since childhood, she wondered what a modern Roman society would be like if run by strong women. Now, she lives in France and writes award-winning Roman-themed alternate history thrillers with tough Praetorian heroines—Inceptio, Perfiditas, Successio, and (her latest) Aurelia. To learn more about Alison’s books, check out her blog, and follow her on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.

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“Only if you know your history well, can you attempt to alternate it.” Not a saying by anybody famous, but something I wrote five years ago in my first blog post about writing in an alternate timeline environment. And I still stand by it today.

My fourth Roma Nova alternate history thriller, Aurelia, out last month, is set in the late 1960s partly in an alternative Germany consisting of small states rather than one whole nation. Although Germany was the subject of my history masters’ degree, I had to research the real small states of a pre-unification Germany in some depth as well as the 1960s social revolution before I typed one single word.

What is alternate history?
With history and science fiction as parents, alternate (or alternative) history stories are a type of speculative fiction set in a world where historical events have developed differently from the way they did in our timeline. What if Julius Caesar had taken notice of the warning that assassins wanted to murder him on the Ides of March? Or if Elizabeth I had married and had children to succeed her? If Washington hadn’t crossed the Delaware River on Christmas night in 1776?

Modern alternate historical fiction favourites of mine include Robert Harris’s Fatherland, Keith Roberts’ Pavane, and C J Sansom’s Dominion, but alternate history itself stretches back a long way. Roman historian Livy writing in the 1st century AD suggests that the Romans would have beaten Alexander the Great if he had lived beyond 324 BC and turned west to attack the Roman Republic (Book IX, sections 17-19 Ab urbe condita libri [The History of Rome], Titus Livius). Louis Geoffroy’s Histoire de la Monarchie universelle: Napoléon et la conquête du monde (1812–1832) imagines Napoleon’s French Empire succeeded in invading Russia in 1811 and England in 1814, later unifying the world under Bonaparte’s rule.

What defines alternate history?
There are three key characteristics to alternate history stories. Firstly, the event that turned history from the path we know—the point of divergence, or PoD—must be in the past; in my Roma Nova series set in the modern period, the PoD was in AD 395. Secondly, the new timeline follows a different path forever—there is no going back. Thirdly, stories should show the ramifications of the divergence and how the new reality functions.

The world can partially resemble our timeline or be very different. Sometimes there are documented historical characters, sometimes entirely fictional ones or a mixture of both. In no case are alternate history stories parallel or secret histories such as The Da Vinci Code.

But is all alternate history credible?
Alternate history varies in “hardness,” based on how plausible the alternation is when measured against historical reality.

Type I, Hard Alternate History: Well-researched work based on historical sources and trends, and that projects changes that flow logically from the PoD. This follows strict standards in its plausibility. Most historical counterfactuals fall into this category.
Type II, Hard/Soft Alternate History: Usually well researched with historical logic and methodology, but which allows some escapist elements.
Type III, Soft Alternate History: Here, setting up a world that fits the writer’s creative objectives is more important than the setting’s alternate history. Research is minimal to moderate and plausibility will take a back seat.
Type IV, Utterly Implausible Alternate History: Works so implausible as to be effectively impossible. Often, authors prioritise their own ideology at the expense of research, historic details, or sensible logistics.
Type X, Fantastical Alternate History: In contrast with Type IV, these works are deliberately designed as pure fantasy.

Perception is, of course, subjective, but I’ve positioned my Roma Nova thrillers at the historical end of the alternate history scale, probably Type II above with elements of Type I.

World building
If a writer sets the story in a different country, they can visit the places the characters would live in, smell the sea, touch the plants, walk under the hot blue sky, or freeze in a biting wind. Historical fiction writers can visit buildings and gardens, explore costume, watch or partake in reenactions. Tasting food cooked to Roman recipes, including the (in)famous garum fish sauce, was certainly an education for me! But inventing a country means their imagination has to spread wide and walk hand-in-hand with solid research. Humans are creative beings; we have all imagined alternative realities since we were children and that drives world building.

No country can survive without a functioning government, an economic, social, and political system, food, law and order, and income. Readers and fans will expect the creator of an imagined world to have worked all that out and also be able to talk about every aspect from costume, social philosophy and weapons to food, transport and childcare provision. (Yes, I was asked about childcare in Roma Nova at the launch of my second book, Perfiditas!)

Plausibility and consistency are, as in all historical fiction, the key guidelines so that the reader is not lost or alienated. Local colour and period detail are essential, but only where necessary and when relevant.

Characters should act, think and feel like real people, whatever language they speak or however they’re dressed. The most credible ones live naturally within their world, i.e. consistently reflecting their unique environment and the prevailing social attitudes. But it makes a stronger story if the permissions and constraints of their world make additional trouble and conflict for them.

What use is alternate history?
Alternate history fiction enables us to explore the consequences of even a small change in history, sometimes known as the “butterfly effect” from chaos theory, or the “nail of the horseshoe” effect after the popular verse dating back to the 14th century. Further, it lets us speculate on transgressive, over-optimistic, morally controversial, or even frightening situations from the safety of our armchair. More than that, it allows us to ask “what if”, to exercise our imaginations and assess our modern situation in an entirely different light.

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A big thanks to Alison Morton. She’ll give away a copy of Aurelia in either signed trade paperback form or .pdf ebook form to someone who contributes a comment on my blog this week. I’ll choose the winner from among those who comment by Friday at 6 p.m. ET. Delivery is available worldwide.

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Did you like what you read? Learn about downloads, discounts, and special offers from Relevant History authors and Suzanne Adair. Subscribe to Suzanne’s free newsletter.

The Realm of the Dead: Afterlife in the Ancient World

Posted on March 27, 2012 by AdminMarch 27, 2012

Relevant History welcomes historical fiction author Elisabeth Storrs, who has written The Wedding Shroud, first book in a trilogy set in early Roman times. She was inspired to write the novel after seeing a sixth-century BCE sarcophagus depicting a man … Continue reading →

The Hand That Rocked the Roman Cradle—Front and Center At Last

Posted on September 27, 2011 by AdminSeptember 27, 2011

Relevant History welcomes historical mystery/romantic-suspense author Martha Marks. Before there was a passion for writing in Martha’s life, there was a passion for teaching. She earned her Ph.D. in Spanish linguistics and literature at Northwestern University and served on the … Continue reading →

Vestal Virgins: the Most Powerful Women in Ancient Rome

Posted on September 13, 2011 by AdminJune 5, 2014

Relevant History welcomes historical suspense author Suzanne Tyrpak, who ran away from New York a long time ago to live in Colorado. Her debut novel, Vestal Virgin: Suspense in Ancient Rome, is set in Rome at the time of Nero, and Tess Gerritsen says, “Her writing is pure magic.” “Pure comedic brilliance” is how J.A. Konrath describes Suzanne’s collection of nine short stories, Dating My Vibrator. And Scott Nicholson says, “Enter this circus and let Suzanne show you why horror is the greatest show on earth” of Ghost Plane and Other Disturbing Tales. For more information, check her blog, and follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

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Vestal Virgins have always been surrounded by mystery. We’ve heard the term “Vestal Virgin”—Procol Harum sings about them—but who were they? Priestesses of old who protected the sacred flame of the Roman goddess of the hearth, Vesta—in many ways this celibate sisterhood might be considered forerunners to the nuns of the Catholic Church.

Vestal Virgins were the most powerful women in the Roman Empire. At a time when women had few rights and were treated like property, Vestal Virgins were revered. Unlike other Roman women, vestals were highly educated. And, although they lived a cloistered life, they had considerable freedom and participated in the world in ways denied to other women.

To be chosen a Vestal Virgin was a great honor, and candidates were usually daughters of leading Roman families. Only six women were designated as priestesses of Vesta, including the Vestal Maxima, who served as the head priestess, similar to a Mother Superior. When a position became available, a number of girls were nominated, but only one candidate was chosen by lottery. Vestals had to be free of physical imperfections, both parents had to be alive, and the girls (usually age six through ten) had to be virgins.

Though most women were completely dependent on men and could own no property, Vestal Virgins had financial independence. They could own property, and the state paid them substantial salaries. Though most Roman women weren’t taught to read or write, Vestal Virgins were highly literate. They scribed many legal documents, and important texts from throughout the empire were kept within the House of the Vestals.

The vestals wielded political and religious influence. They served as members of the Collegiate of Pontiffs, religious advisors to the Roman Senate. After the time of Julius Caesar, the head of the Collegiate of Pontiffs, the Roman Emperor was also appointed Pontifex Maximus. Consequently, the Vestal Virgins were in close contact with the emperor.

The vestals performed many public rituals and sacrifices throughout the year. For example: the harvest festival of Meditrinalia included a chariot race that began at dawn. The victor’s horse was sacrificed, its entrails smeared upon the altar of the Regia, where the Collegiate of Pontiffs resided. It was the job of the vestals to collect blood from the severed genitals to be used the following spring in order to ensure protection of flocks of sheep.

The priestesses of Vesta were believed to hold great power, therefore their blessings were solicited. People gave offerings to the priestesses to ensure that their loved ones would be included in the vestals’ prayers.

A privilege denied to most women was the popular entertainment of gladiator games. Chariot races took place in the morning, and women were welcome to attend, but afternoon brought games that ended in brutal death. The arena was cleared of women—except for the Vestal Virgins. In fact, the priestesses were designated their own box at the Circus Maximus, and the Coliseum, just below the emperor’s box.

Vestals were considered sacrosanct, and a vestal’s word was considered sacred. At times, her word could override an emperor’s. For example: a prisoner, sentenced to death, might escape his fate if pardoned by a Vestal Virgin.

The six Vestal Virgins are, perhaps, best known for tending the sacred fire which represented the heart of Rome. Once a year, the fire was allowed to burn out. It would then be rekindled in a ritual, using a clear crystal and the rays of the sun.

Because they tended the fire sacred to Vesta, virgin goddess of the hearth, the priestesses had to remain pure, and consequently vestals were pledged to thirty years of chastity on penalty of death. If suspected of breaking her vow, a vestal would face a trial with the Collegiate of Pontiffs and punishment to be doled out by the Pontifex Maximus. She might be tested in a variety of ways. For example: a vestal might be given a sieve in which she had to carry water from the Tiber river. No doubt, cheating did take place—smearing the sieve with grease might provide a way around the test. Or a vestal might be thrown into the river: if she sank, she would be considered pure, and, if she swam, she would be proved tainted—a test reminiscent of the much-later Salem witch trials. Once found guilty, a vestal would usually be sentenced to death. First, hair shorn and dressed in a drab robe instead of finery, she would be paraded through the streets, as if she were already dead. She would then be entombed alive with scant provisions and left to asphyxiate.

Of course, there were exceptions—not necessarily for the better. The emperor, Nero, for example, held himself above the law and is known to have raped at least one Vestal Virgin. The family name she bore was Rubria, but that is all we know of her. This gave me ample leeway, as a writer of fiction, to write my novel, Vestal Virgin: Suspense in Ancient Rome.

After serving for thirty years, Vestal Virgins were free to leave the order, but at a time in history when women were valued mostly for childbearing and life expectancy was short, what fate could a woman hope for in her late thirties? A vow of chastity might be a demanding price, but the rewards were great. Because of the power and freedom granted Vestal Virgins, rather than go to live with a male relative, many priestesses chose to remain in service.

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A big thanks to Suzanne Tyrpak. She’ll give away one electronic copy of Vestal Virgin to someone who contributes a comment on my blog this week. I’ll choose the winner from among those who comment by Saturday at 6 p.m. ET.

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Did you like what you read? Learn about downloads, discounts, and special offers from Relevant History authors and Suzanne Adair. Subscribe to Suzanne’s free newsletter.