January, 90 BC
Jason rubbed his hands together, and shivered. “What sort of place,” he grumbled, “has rivers that freeze?” He looked across the frozen river, at the snow covered lands that surrounded them. Why, he thought whimsically, couldn’t they have visited Sicily? Or Ephesus?
Still, there were advantages, he thought, as he looked at Calgacus next to him. “Does this happen often?” he asked him in Greek. He had picked up a few words in Gallic, but Greek came naturally to him.
“The snow, you mean?” asked Calgacus. If the cold bothered him, he didn’t show it. Calgacus shrugged, and looked across the river. “A few times a winter, perhaps,” he said. “We are fairly far north, remember, in the lands of the Belgae.” He gestured at the horsemen with them. “That’s part of the reason they are with us, actually,” he said.
Jason looked across the river. “Do you expect trouble?” he asked. These lands were part of the king’s domain, but it was still worrisome. He wondered if the river could support the weight of a barbarian horde while it was frozen, and looked at the ice again.
Calgacus pursed his lips at his comment. “Not really,” he said after a moment. “But the Belgae were only conquered a few decades ago. It will take time for them to accept their place.” He sighed. “And it’s not easy,” continued Calgacus, “to keep the tribes of the Keltoi in line.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jason. He looked up from the river and turned to his friend.
“You Greeks have you traditions of freedom and independence, and so do we. There are hosts of proud nobles across Gaul with their owned armed retainers, and they feel that my father violates their ancient privileges and rights. So we must be careful to not offend them. But at the same time,” continued Calgacus, “they must obey the king, otherwise we are back where we were. Calgacus groped for an analogy, and said, “It’s like when you drive cattle between the two fires during Beltane. If the cow goes too close to either one, it gets burned.”
This was not something, Jason suspected, that his uncle had heard, and it might be worth knowing. “What do you do, then?” he asked.
“My father tries to make sure he does nothing the nobles do not approve of. He summons assemblies of nobles, as the older kings did, but he summons them to hear his word from across Letauia, and to shore up support for his policy. He appoints the Vergobrets [4] of the towns, and he demonstrates to people his power.” Calgacus leaned against a tree. “Tournaments, celebrations, that sort of thing.” He shrugged. “he also imports new skills and artisans from the Mediterranean lands, to remind the people that he has the favor of the gods.”
Jason’s teeth were chattering, but he was intrigued. “Why does that remind your people that your family has the favor of the gods?” he asked.
“My ancestors were the ones who supported the worship of Lug, the many talented one, who first gave men the arts. When they introduce new arts, it reminds people of their association with Lug.” He shrugged, and leaned against a tree whose leaves had long since fallen. “Why do you think he encouraged the monks to build water wheels? Or the roads he has constructed across Letauia? Or,” he smirked, “the adoption of the technologies of Seres and other eastern lands, described in your books?”[5]
Calgacus smiled. “But come, Jason,” he said, putting his arm around Jason. “You look cold. Why don’t we go inside, and warm ourselves by a fire?”
Lugdunum, February 90 BC [6]
Outside, it was still cold, perhaps the coldest it ever was in the entire year. But to the Celts, it was the beginning of spring. The ewes had begun to lactate, and the goddess Brigid returned to make the earth fertile. To celebrate, Dunmorix had prepared a feast that would last for weeks, for the peoples of his kingdom. His tables were heaped with meats and wine, honeyed pastries and fruits, and everything else the Gauls loved to eat. Jason longed for a salad, but evidently that was something no one would ever eat in Gaul.
But the holiday, which the Celts called Imbolc, was mainly for sacrifices and offerings to their gods, to ensure a fruitful year. The Celts had abstained from human sacrifice, but they had other ways of giving the gods the blood they desired.
“Great sport, is it not?” cried Calgacus. His next comment was drowned out by the cheers as a mounted warrior, his mail gleaming in the sun, and his helmet plumed with feathers from the East, drove his lance through the chest of his opponent.
Jason leaned forward. Something about this bothered him, but he couldn’t say why. “So Brigid and Lug find this pleasing?” he asked.
The cheering continued as the warrior rode off of the field. “Of course,” said Calgacus. “These men fight for the favor of the gods, and risk their lives for them. They sacrifice themselves for the good of Gaul.”
Jason was unconvinced. “Isn’t this human sacrifice, by another name?” he asked.
Calgacus’s eyes widened. “Not at all!” he protested. “This is a feat of strength, and a trial by combat. The ones that are favored by the gods triumph, and the loser goes to serve them.” Jason remained unconvinced, but shrugged. Every city in the civilized world had coliseums, where gladiators fought to the death. This wasn’t any different, really [6]. If anything, he was surprised to see that the Celtae fought like the cataphracts. Their head was encased in an iron helmet, and they and their horse both wore coats of mail. When they rode into battle, they carried long lances, which they tried to impale each other on. Before he could see the next battle, however, Calgacus got up go to for a walk, and Jason followed.
“Did you adopt that manner of fighting from the Greeks?” asked Jason.
Calgacus snorted. “Not really,” he said. “We adopted your lance instead of a spear, and we wear more armor than we used to, but your cataphracts,” sneered Calgacus, “were nothing knew. Their saddle was even inferior to ours [7] , which meant that we could ride faster than them.” He chuckled. “Gave the Seleucids quite a surprise, from what I’ve heard.”
Jason nodded, remembering the reputation that the Celtic mercenaries had acquired in the war, and walked with Jason through the stalls of merchants, who had travelled from across the world to sell goods during the festival. Jason stopped in front of a druid, who was finishing a sacrifice and chanting something to the crowd that was watching. Jason had picked up a smattering of the Celtic language, but he didn’t understand a word of it. “What’s he saying?” he asked.
Calgacus had been eyeing a girl who’d been walking by, but turned to listen. After a moment, he said, “In your language, it would sound something like this:
Or you will sow yellow grain under a different star
in the place from which you have previously harvested
the pulse, rejoicing in its trembling pod
or the fruits of the thin vetch or the bitter lupine's
brittle stalks and rustling thicket.
You see, a crop of flax parches the field; so do oats;
so do poppies full of the sleep of Lethe.
But with rotation the work is easy! Just don't
be embarrassed to stuff the soil with fat dung and
to throw dirty ash throughout the worn-out fields.
In this way too the land rests through crop-rotation
and meanwhile, although unploughed, the earth shows its gratitude.[8]
Jason blinked, and, after a moment, started laughing. “The druid is reciting farming methods?” he asked.
“Why not?” asked Calgacus. “They and the monks are the ones who keep track of the calendar, and if they can find something that will make farming easier, of course they will encourage its use. They receive a share of what’s grown, after all”.
Jason remained silent for a while, as they walked through the fair. The Gauls, it seemed, had picked up a smattering of civilization. But the more he dwelt with them, the more he was convinced that it was a veneer over something alien. It would have bothered him, he decided, if it wasn’t what made Calgacus so attractive.
[4] Celtic magistrates
[5] The Greeks have been fascinated with Chinese culture, and there has been a steady stream of travel guides coming out of China from the 120s BC onwards. Given how quickly Marco Polo’s tales spread around medieval Europe, I don’t think it’s surprising to find the elite of Gaul reading about things like cast iron and moldboard plows, and adopting them to their own lands.
[6] Antiochus IV is generally credited with introducing gladiator combat to the Hellenistic World, so I think its spread would have occurred in a longer lived Seleucid Empire, just as in a Roman one.
Whether this is a good thing or not, I leave to the reader.
[7] The Celts had a four pommel, stirrup-less saddle with a projecting pommel in each corner. The back two vertical projections kept the rider from slipping backwards, while, the front two projections were bent backwards and angled over the rider's thigh. It’s clear that it was superior to the traditional classical saddles, because this was the saddle the Romans ultimately adopted.
[8] Stolen from Gavin, who picked it up from Virgil.
Jason rubbed his hands together, and shivered. “What sort of place,” he grumbled, “has rivers that freeze?” He looked across the frozen river, at the snow covered lands that surrounded them. Why, he thought whimsically, couldn’t they have visited Sicily? Or Ephesus?
Still, there were advantages, he thought, as he looked at Calgacus next to him. “Does this happen often?” he asked him in Greek. He had picked up a few words in Gallic, but Greek came naturally to him.
“The snow, you mean?” asked Calgacus. If the cold bothered him, he didn’t show it. Calgacus shrugged, and looked across the river. “A few times a winter, perhaps,” he said. “We are fairly far north, remember, in the lands of the Belgae.” He gestured at the horsemen with them. “That’s part of the reason they are with us, actually,” he said.
Jason looked across the river. “Do you expect trouble?” he asked. These lands were part of the king’s domain, but it was still worrisome. He wondered if the river could support the weight of a barbarian horde while it was frozen, and looked at the ice again.
Calgacus pursed his lips at his comment. “Not really,” he said after a moment. “But the Belgae were only conquered a few decades ago. It will take time for them to accept their place.” He sighed. “And it’s not easy,” continued Calgacus, “to keep the tribes of the Keltoi in line.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jason. He looked up from the river and turned to his friend.
“You Greeks have you traditions of freedom and independence, and so do we. There are hosts of proud nobles across Gaul with their owned armed retainers, and they feel that my father violates their ancient privileges and rights. So we must be careful to not offend them. But at the same time,” continued Calgacus, “they must obey the king, otherwise we are back where we were. Calgacus groped for an analogy, and said, “It’s like when you drive cattle between the two fires during Beltane. If the cow goes too close to either one, it gets burned.”
This was not something, Jason suspected, that his uncle had heard, and it might be worth knowing. “What do you do, then?” he asked.
“My father tries to make sure he does nothing the nobles do not approve of. He summons assemblies of nobles, as the older kings did, but he summons them to hear his word from across Letauia, and to shore up support for his policy. He appoints the Vergobrets [4] of the towns, and he demonstrates to people his power.” Calgacus leaned against a tree. “Tournaments, celebrations, that sort of thing.” He shrugged. “he also imports new skills and artisans from the Mediterranean lands, to remind the people that he has the favor of the gods.”
Jason’s teeth were chattering, but he was intrigued. “Why does that remind your people that your family has the favor of the gods?” he asked.
“My ancestors were the ones who supported the worship of Lug, the many talented one, who first gave men the arts. When they introduce new arts, it reminds people of their association with Lug.” He shrugged, and leaned against a tree whose leaves had long since fallen. “Why do you think he encouraged the monks to build water wheels? Or the roads he has constructed across Letauia? Or,” he smirked, “the adoption of the technologies of Seres and other eastern lands, described in your books?”[5]
Calgacus smiled. “But come, Jason,” he said, putting his arm around Jason. “You look cold. Why don’t we go inside, and warm ourselves by a fire?”
Lugdunum, February 90 BC [6]
Outside, it was still cold, perhaps the coldest it ever was in the entire year. But to the Celts, it was the beginning of spring. The ewes had begun to lactate, and the goddess Brigid returned to make the earth fertile. To celebrate, Dunmorix had prepared a feast that would last for weeks, for the peoples of his kingdom. His tables were heaped with meats and wine, honeyed pastries and fruits, and everything else the Gauls loved to eat. Jason longed for a salad, but evidently that was something no one would ever eat in Gaul.
But the holiday, which the Celts called Imbolc, was mainly for sacrifices and offerings to their gods, to ensure a fruitful year. The Celts had abstained from human sacrifice, but they had other ways of giving the gods the blood they desired.
“Great sport, is it not?” cried Calgacus. His next comment was drowned out by the cheers as a mounted warrior, his mail gleaming in the sun, and his helmet plumed with feathers from the East, drove his lance through the chest of his opponent.
Jason leaned forward. Something about this bothered him, but he couldn’t say why. “So Brigid and Lug find this pleasing?” he asked.
The cheering continued as the warrior rode off of the field. “Of course,” said Calgacus. “These men fight for the favor of the gods, and risk their lives for them. They sacrifice themselves for the good of Gaul.”
Jason was unconvinced. “Isn’t this human sacrifice, by another name?” he asked.
Calgacus’s eyes widened. “Not at all!” he protested. “This is a feat of strength, and a trial by combat. The ones that are favored by the gods triumph, and the loser goes to serve them.” Jason remained unconvinced, but shrugged. Every city in the civilized world had coliseums, where gladiators fought to the death. This wasn’t any different, really [6]. If anything, he was surprised to see that the Celtae fought like the cataphracts. Their head was encased in an iron helmet, and they and their horse both wore coats of mail. When they rode into battle, they carried long lances, which they tried to impale each other on. Before he could see the next battle, however, Calgacus got up go to for a walk, and Jason followed.
“Did you adopt that manner of fighting from the Greeks?” asked Jason.
Calgacus snorted. “Not really,” he said. “We adopted your lance instead of a spear, and we wear more armor than we used to, but your cataphracts,” sneered Calgacus, “were nothing knew. Their saddle was even inferior to ours [7] , which meant that we could ride faster than them.” He chuckled. “Gave the Seleucids quite a surprise, from what I’ve heard.”
Jason nodded, remembering the reputation that the Celtic mercenaries had acquired in the war, and walked with Jason through the stalls of merchants, who had travelled from across the world to sell goods during the festival. Jason stopped in front of a druid, who was finishing a sacrifice and chanting something to the crowd that was watching. Jason had picked up a smattering of the Celtic language, but he didn’t understand a word of it. “What’s he saying?” he asked.
Calgacus had been eyeing a girl who’d been walking by, but turned to listen. After a moment, he said, “In your language, it would sound something like this:
Or you will sow yellow grain under a different star
in the place from which you have previously harvested
the pulse, rejoicing in its trembling pod
or the fruits of the thin vetch or the bitter lupine's
brittle stalks and rustling thicket.
You see, a crop of flax parches the field; so do oats;
so do poppies full of the sleep of Lethe.
But with rotation the work is easy! Just don't
be embarrassed to stuff the soil with fat dung and
to throw dirty ash throughout the worn-out fields.
In this way too the land rests through crop-rotation
and meanwhile, although unploughed, the earth shows its gratitude.[8]
Jason blinked, and, after a moment, started laughing. “The druid is reciting farming methods?” he asked.
“Why not?” asked Calgacus. “They and the monks are the ones who keep track of the calendar, and if they can find something that will make farming easier, of course they will encourage its use. They receive a share of what’s grown, after all”.
Jason remained silent for a while, as they walked through the fair. The Gauls, it seemed, had picked up a smattering of civilization. But the more he dwelt with them, the more he was convinced that it was a veneer over something alien. It would have bothered him, he decided, if it wasn’t what made Calgacus so attractive.
[4] Celtic magistrates
[5] The Greeks have been fascinated with Chinese culture, and there has been a steady stream of travel guides coming out of China from the 120s BC onwards. Given how quickly Marco Polo’s tales spread around medieval Europe, I don’t think it’s surprising to find the elite of Gaul reading about things like cast iron and moldboard plows, and adopting them to their own lands.
[6] Antiochus IV is generally credited with introducing gladiator combat to the Hellenistic World, so I think its spread would have occurred in a longer lived Seleucid Empire, just as in a Roman one.
Whether this is a good thing or not, I leave to the reader.
[7] The Celts had a four pommel, stirrup-less saddle with a projecting pommel in each corner. The back two vertical projections kept the rider from slipping backwards, while, the front two projections were bent backwards and angled over the rider's thigh. It’s clear that it was superior to the traditional classical saddles, because this was the saddle the Romans ultimately adopted.
[8] Stolen from Gavin, who picked it up from Virgil.
