Arcuballista: A Late Roman Crossbow

The sole mention of the arcuballista occurs in the work of Vegetius (Epitoma rei militaris) [1]. In book II.15, when describing how the ancient legion was drawn up in battle order, he refers to soldiers who shoot bolts with manuballistae and arcuballistae, terms which are typically translated as catapults and crossbows respectively.

In etymological terms, Latin ballista is taken from the Greek βαλλίστρα ‎(ballístra), itself derived from βάλλω (bállō, “I throw”). So, manuballista (the Latin variant of the Greek cheiroballistra) has the sense of “hand projector”. Most scholars [2][3][4][5] seem to agree that this weapon was a torsion-powered bolt-shooter, but debate on its configuration is effectively divided into two camps: those who accept the translation literally and believe the manuballista was hand-held and, conversely, those who see it as a continuation and technological development of earlier stand-mounted catapults as seen, for example, on Trajan’s Column.

As for the arcuballista, its name suggests it incorporated an arcus (“arch”), but whether this refers to the bow of a non-torsion weapon or to the arched-strut (Latin: arcus ferreus) design of torsion weapons from the 2nd-century AD onwards cannot be unequivocally stated.

However, in Book IV of Epitoma Rei Militaris (op. cit. IV.22), while discussing siege and naval warfare, Vegetius continues to make a clear distinction between the weapons “they used to call ‘scorpions’ what are now called manuballistae” and those such as fustibali (“staff-slings”), arcuballistae (crossbows) and slings. Unfortunately, Vegetius does not describe the latter any further assuming that his contemporary readers would be familiar with their form and function. Weapons such as slings and staff-slings are clearly hand-held weapons however and, by implication, so must arcuballistae. Moreover, by repeatedly referring to manuballistae and arcuballistae separately Vegetius, and other authors such as Arrian, is clear that the latter are different from torsion powered bolt-shooters and stone-throwers. So, if arcuballistae are not torsion-powered, then it seems logical that they were very similar to Mediæval crossbows using flexion bows.

We turn, therefore, to the crossbows depicted on the Gallo-Roman carved stone reliefs (pictured) from Solignac and Saint Marcel. These are obviously not a gastraphetes (“stomach bow”) as they lack the distinctive crescent-shaped stomach rests characteristic of such weapons. Nor is there any sign of winching mechanism for spanning the bows. Are these then the elusive arcuballistae?

From a photograph of the Solignac relief in his article [6], Baatz suggests a plausible reconstruction of an arcuballista:

It is unclear whether the reliefs depict self-bows or composites; both were known and used by the Romans. Any reconstruction of a arcuballista could, quite reasonably, use either. It is unlikely that a steel prod was used as in later medieval crossbows, however.

No known contemporary spanning devices have been discovered, and none are shown on the surviving French reliefs. To span an arcuballista, a sketch in Baatz shows the arcuballistarius placing a foot on the belly of the bow, either side of the stock, and drawing the bowstring by hand. If correct, the draw weight of the arcuballista cannot be so great that the bow cannot be spanned by hand.

A visual assessment of the Saint Marcel relief suggests the stock was between 600 mm and 700 mm in length using the forearm of the arcuballistarius as a cubit measure; the average cubit being 480 mm (0.5 m). Likewise, using the same method of measurement, a bow length of c. 1300 mm (tip to tip), as Baatz' suggests, is plausible.

Using the length of the depicted quiver on the relief from Saint Marcel, Baatz makes the assumption that missiles were of similar length to arrows shot from standard bows.  Furthermore, with the nut placed toward the end of the stock, Baatz also assumes that the draw length was longer than that of later crossbows, and thus longer arrows could be used rather than shorter bolts.

The Solignac relief depicts a similar hunting crossbow from above. This clearly shows a revolving-nut release for the bowstring, together with a groove for the bolt. It proves the arcuballista is the ancestor of all Mediæval crossbows that use the same revolving nut release. Finds of objects resembling revolving nuts have been discovered in Britain and dated to the 5th or 6th century AD. Unsurprisingly, these have been attributed to a form of late Roman crossbow. The author’s reconstruction uses a Mediæval-style trigger bar set beneath the stock to release the nut which freely rotates for the bowstring to begin its power stoke along the stock accelerating a bolt toward its target.

Unlike Mediæval crossbows which tend to have a wholly rectilinear stock or “tiller”, the arcuballista has a unique carved handgrip at the rear. Being so distinctive, it has been conjectured that pulling back on this handgrip, if connected to a straight trigger bar, might have been means to release the revolving nut. Simply pushing the handgrip forward may have engaged said trigger bar into the locking notch cut in the nut. Precisely how this type of mechanism might have operated remains speculative, but one solution is pictured below:

References:

1.  Milner, N.P. (1993), Vegetius: Epitome of Military Science, Liverpool University Press.

2.  Baatz, D. (1978), “Recent finds of ancient artillery”, Britannia 9, pp. 1-17.

3.  Gudea, N., and Baatz, D. (1974) “Teile spätrömischer ballisten aus Gornea und Orşova”, Saalburg Jahrbuch 31, pp. 50-72.

4.  Marsden, E.W. (1971), Greek and Roman Artillery: Technical Treatises, Oxford.

5.  Wilkins, A. (2024), Roman Imperial Artillery, Oxford: Archaeopress, pp. 202-204.

6.  Baatz, D. (1991) “Die Römische Jagdarmbrust”, Archäoligisches Korrospondenzblatt 21, pp. 283-290.

Why did the chicken cross the Red Sea?

The discarded bone of a chicken leg, still etched with teeth marks from a dinner thousands of years ago, provides some of the oldest known physical evidence for the introduction of domesticated chickens to the continent of Africa, research from Washington University in St. Louis has confirmed.

Based on radiocarbon dating of about 30 chicken bones unearthed at the site of an ancient farming village in present-day Ethiopia, the findings shed new light on how domesticated chickens crossed ancient roads - and seas - to reach farms and plates in Africa and, eventually, every other corner of the globe.

"Our study provides the earliest directly dated evidence for the presence of chickens in Africa and points to the significance of Red Sea and East African trade routes in the introduction of the chicken," said Helina Woldekiros, lead author and a postdoctoral anthropology researcher in Arts & Sciences at Washington University.

The main wild ancestor of today's chickens, the red junglefowl Gallus gallus is endemic to sub-Himalayan northern India, southern China and Southeast Asia, where chickens were first domesticated 6,000 - 8,000 years ago. Now nearly ubiquitous around the world, the offspring of these first-domesticated chickens are providing modern researchers with valuable clues to ancient agricultural and trade contacts.

The arrival of chickens in Africa and the routes by which they both entered and dispersed across the continent are not well known. Previous research based on representations of chickens on ceramics and paintings, plus bones from other archaeological sites, suggested that chickens were first introduced to Africa through North Africa, Egypt and the Nile Valley about 2,500 years ago.

The earliest bone-based evidence of chickens in Africa dates to the late first millennium BC, from the Saite levels at Buto, Egypt - approximately 685 - 525 BC. The current study, published in the International Journal of Osteoarchaeology, pushes that date back by hundreds of years. Co-authored by Catherine D'Andrea, professor of archaeology at Simon Fraser University in Canada, the research also suggests that the earliest introductions may have come from trade routes on the continent's eastern coast.

"Some of these bones were directly radiocarbon dated to 819 - 755 BC, and with charcoal dates of 919 - 801 BC make these the earliest chickens in Africa," Woldekiros said. "They predate the earliest known Egyptian chickens by at least 300 years and highlight early exotic faunal exchanges in the Horn of Africa during the early first millennium BC."

Despite their widespread, modern-day importance, chicken remains are found in small numbers at archaeological sites. Because wild relatives of the galliform chicken species are plentiful in Africa, this study required researchers to sift through the remnants of many small bird species to identify bones with the unique sizes and shapes that are characteristic of domestic chickens. Woldekiros, the project's zooarchaeologist, studied the chicken bones at a field lab in northern Ethiopia and confirmed her identifications using a comparative bone collection at the Institute of Paleoanatomy at Ludwig Maximillian University in Munich.

Excavated by a team of researchers led by D'Andrea of Simon Fraser, the bones analysed for this study were recovered from the kitchen and living floors of an ancient farming community known as Mezber. The rural village was located in northern Ethiopia about 30 miles from the urban centre of the pre-Aksumite civilization. The pre-Aksumites were the earliest people in the Horn of Africa to form complex, urban-rural trading networks.
Linguistic studies of ancient root words for chickens in African languages suggest multiple introductions of chickens to Africa following different routes: from North Africa through the Sahara to West Africa; and from the East African coast to Central Africa. Scholars also have demonstrated the biodiversity of modern-day African village chickens through molecular genetic studies.

"It is likely that people brought chickens to Ethiopia and the Horn of Africa repeatedly over long period of time: over 1,000 years," Woldekiros said. "Our archaeological findings help to explain the genetic diversity of modern Africans chickens resulting from the introduction of diverse chicken lineages coming from early Arabian and South Asian context and later Swahili networks."

These findings contribute to broader stories of ways in which people move domestic animals around the world through migration, exchange and trade. Ancient introductions of domestic animals to new regions were not always successful. Zooarchaeological studies of the most popular domestic animals such as cattle, sheep, goats and pigs have demonstrated repeated introductions as well as failures of new species in different regions of the world.

"Our study also supports the African Red Sea coast as one possible early route of introduction of chickens to Africa and the Horn," Woldekiros said. "It fits with ways in which maritime exchange networks were important for global distribution of chicken and other agricultural products. The early dates for chickens at Mezber, combined with their presence in all of the occupation phases at Mezber and in Aksumite contexts 40 BC - AD 600 in other parts of Ethiopia, demonstrate their long-term success in northern Ethiopia."

Reported by EurekAlert! on November 2nd,2016: https://www.eurekalert.org/pub_releases/2016-11/wuis-htc110216.php

Book Review

Roman Empire at War: A Compendium of Battles from 31 BC to AD 565

· Hardcover: 215 pages

· Publisher: Pen & Sword Military (July 25th, 2016)

· Language: English

· ISBN-10: 1473869080
· ISBN-13: 978-1473869080
· RRP: £19.99 (UK); $34.95 (US)

As its title clearly states, “Empire at War” is a compendium - a select list if you will - of the battles fought by the Roman army from Emperor Augustus to Justinian I.  Dr Don Taylor’s aim is simple: to provide readers with a single volume reference that describes, concisely, the most significant battles during the chosen period.  In a work of this scale - 215 pages - it would be impossible to detail every skirmish, siege, minor encounter or major engagement.  Thus Taylor has deliberately selected only those contests of arms where some strategic value can be discerned for either protagonist.  Likewise, he has also omitted battles described by one or more ancient authors for which no identifiable name, location or landmark can be clearly attributed.  What remains, however, is a most useful alphabetical list of battles together with brief descriptions, some tactical maps, and lists of ancient sources for each.

The volume is divided into two distinct parts.  Part one provides some introductory material on the Roman imperial warfare.  For those unfamiliar or new to studied of the Roman army, this introduction is a very useful summary of the changes and evolution during the army’s long history.  Starting in the early first century BC, Taylor explains the late Republic/early Imperial army’s organisation, rank structure and terms of service and then neatly leads the reader through the significant changes and developments until the death of Emperor Justinian in AD 565.  Usefully, there is also a brief description of the navy whose role in Roman warfare is too often neglected in such works.

Part one concludes with a discussion on the reliability of the ancient and early medieval sources that chronicle the events, and from which the information for each entry is drawn.  In writing the battle descriptions, the author is keen to emphasize that he has not sought to analyse the evidence contained in the surviving accounts.  More importantly he has not sought to embellish said accounts beyond that necessary to provide clarity for the modern reader.  Instead that which is presented is a succinct version of what the original chroniclers tell us themselves of these dramatic events.

Concise biographies of the ancient authors and their works relevant to the study are presented in order that readers are aware of the possible pitfalls of relying solely on the original texts.  A basic insight is offered into the background of each early author to provide modern students with an appreciation of the value of extant sources and to evaluate ancient descriptions critically.  In addition, Taylor has provided information on how readers can obtain translated copies through the detailed bibliography on pages 196-200.

Part two is the meat of this work and begins with an alphabetical list of the battles.  Thankfully Taylor has also included a chronological list (pages 42-45).  Likewise several entries throughout Part two are usefully cross-referred where a particular battle is known by more than one name or location.  Each entry can only ever offer a brief description of the events but for those seeking more information Taylor provides a list of the sources consulted at the end.

Where more than one author is cited, however, it is less clear how differing accounts were reconciled into a coherent narrative.  This is a minor criticism given that the author never set out to produce an in-depth study.  Rather he hopes readers will be encouraged to investigate the sources, be they primary or secondary, and discover what contemporary information survives, the ambiguities that exist in the accounts, and derive their own conclusions.  In this manner Don Taylor’s “Roman Empire at War” is highly recommended and should prove an immensely useful reference and catalyst for further research into the battles of the Roman Empire.

A Tasty Tudor Chewit

In every issue of BBC History Magazine, picture editor Sam Nott presents a recipe from the past. In this article, from December 2015, Sam recreates a delicate chewit - a meat and fruit pie enjoyed in the 16th century.

Britain loves pies, and recipes for them can be found in cookbooks going back centuries. A chewit mixes sweet and savoury flavours – a combination that was popular in the Tudor era. Recipes from that time often refer to coffins – robust pastry designed more to contain the filling than to be eaten. Sam's version, including measurements, is based on the following 16th-century recipe:

"Parboyle a piece of a Legge of Veal, and being cold, mince it with Beefe Suit, and Marrow, and an Apple or a couple of Wardens: when you haue minst it fine, put to a few parboyld Currins, sixe Dates minst, a piece of a preserued Orenge pill minst, Marrow cut in little square pieces. Season all this with Pepper, Salt, Nutmeg, and a little Sugar: then put it into your Coffins, and so bake it. Before you close your Pye, sprinckle on a little Rosewater, and when they are baked shaue on a little Sugar, and so serue it to the Table."

Ingredients

Pastry:

• 400g flour
• 1 tsp salt
• 200g butter
• 1 egg yolk
• Iced water

Filling:

• 500g minced beef
• 50g sultanas
• 6 dates
• Zest from half an orange
• 2 medium-sized pears, chopped
• 100g suet
• 1 tsp nutmeg
• Salt and pepper
• Rose water (sprinkle)
• Sugar (sprinkle)

Method

Pastry: Sift the flour and salt into a basin.  Cut the butter into small chunks and rub it into the flour until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.  Make a well in the centre.  Add the egg yolk and 5 tbsp of iced water.  Roll the pastry into a ball, wrap in cling film and leave in the fridge for 30 minutes.

Filling: Roll out the pastry and line a pie tin, leaving enough for the lid of the pie. Lightly fry the minced beef, then add the suet, fruit and seasoning.  Pack tightly into the pie case and sprinkle a small amount of rose water on the top of the filling before adding the pie top.

Sprinkle sugar on the pastry and cook for an hour in an oven preheated to 200˚C.

Time: 1 hour preparation, 1 hour cooking.

This article was first published in the December 2015 issue of BBC History Magazine

Ballistas, Catapults and Scorpions

A major source of information for Roman artillery is Marcus Vitruvius Pollio, a 1^st century BC Roman author, architect, civil and military engineer.  Commonly known as Vitruvius, Book X of his multi-volume work entitled De Architectura includes chapters on artillery.  In Book X.xvi.1, for example, Vitruvius refers to three separate terms for siege machines when beginning his description of the “Measures of Defence”.  Vitruvius (X.x.6) also claims to have described catapultorum rationes ("the rules of catapults") at the end of the section on the scorpio, which once again suggests a distinction.

For several years I accepted that catapults (bolt-shooters) were synonymous with “scorpions” following Vitruvius, and have even described them as such using the analogy of the bolt being the scorpion’s “sting in the tail”.  In the opening of Book X, Chapter x, for example, he writes of “catapults or scorpiones” and then in the first paragraph refers to “scorpiones and ballistae (X.x.1).  If Vitruvius’ use of terminology is inconsistent, then it is more confusing wherever he makes a distinction between three types of machine, i.e. ballistas, catapults and scorpions.

Yet Vitruvius is not alone.  The Roman encyclopaedist Pliny the Elder (HN 7.201) also lists the three machines separately^[1], and Livy (26.47), in his catalogue of Carthaginian machines captured at New Carthage in 209 BC, writes of:

catapultae maximae formae centum viginti, minors ducentae octoginta una; ballistae maiores viginti tres, minores quinquaginta duae; scorpionum maiorum minorumque et armorum telorumque ingens numerous

"120 catapults of the largest dimensions, 281 smaller ones; 23 larger ballistas, 52 smaller ones; larger and smaller scorpions and a huge number of weapons and projectiles"

Is it possible, therefore, that these authors considered the scorpion a distinctly different machine from a stone-throwing ballista or a bolt-shooting catapult.  If so, then what did this other scorpion look like?

For our purposes, ballistae, catapultae, and scorpiones are all torsion based artillery.  The principle of torsion was probably discovered by artificers working in Macedonia under Philip II and Polyidus between 353 BC and 341 BC.  Our understanding of their construction comes from Heron’s description (Belopoiika 81): “two separate wooden arms were inserted into two vertical skeins or springs of sinew-rope mounted in a stout frame of hardwood reinforced with iron plates.  Each strand of the rope is pre-stretched by winches around top and bottom iron washer-bars.  The iron washer-bars were slotted into revolving bronze cylinders that allowed the skein to be twisted, forcing the bow arms forward.  This twisting or torsion of the rope-springs was further increased when the arms were drawn back by winch, storing a massive amount of potential energy in the sinew.”^[2]

When it comes to stone-throwers (Gr. lithobolos (Λιθοβόλος)) and bolt-shooters (Gr. Oxybeles Οξυβόλος)), the former are described as euthytonon (or euthytone), while the latter are palintonon (or palintone).  In Greek, a palintonon translates as "V-spring" and euthytonon (Ευθύτονος) translates as "straight-spring".  The "V" or straight spring describes how the construction of the spring frames and the shape of the bow arms of siege engines compare to shape of hand-held bows.

Confused?  In the early Imperial period, as under the Republic, two types of artillery were known: bolt-shooting euthytones (the scorpiones and catapultae of Vitruvius’ De Architectura X, x, 1-6) and stone-throwing palintones (the ballistae of Vitruvius’ De Architectura X, xi, 1-9).  According to Marsden these machines were apparently allocated 55-60 per legion^[3].  Yet by the fourth century AD it seems the legions had lost their organic complement of artillery and the term ballista (and its compounds) appears in the literary sources to refer to an iron-framed bolt-shooter.  Presumably this was because the engine was technically a palintone, not a euthytone, and the old wooden-framed stone-throwing ballista is replaced by the more massive one-armed onager (Vegetius, Epitoma Rei Militaris ii, 10, 15 and 25; iii, 14 and 24; iv, 22).

Ammianus Marcellinus concurs.  By the mid-4th century AD, the Romans were employing the one-armed onager as their stone-projector, while the ballista seems to have been used only as a bolt-shooter, a task previously given to the euthytone, i.e. catapults.  Most importantly, Ammianus (23.4.7) claims that the onager had previously been known as a “scorpion”, quoniam aculeum desuper babet erectum ("because it has its sting raised up above it")^[4].

Yet the 4^th century AD is by no means the first appearance in the surviving literary sources for one-armed stone-throwing machines.  In c. 210 BC, some 500 years earlier, Philon of Byzantium casually refers to just such machine in his treatise on siegecraft, Poliorketika, in a passage concerned with defending a city under siege^[5].  Had the one-armed stone-thrower been “hidden in plain sight” serving alongside the other named machines since Philon’s time?  Could the separate references to “scorpions” be the very same machines or their descendents for example the later Roman onager of Ammianus and Vegetius?

The design of the onager as a mechanized staff-sling is often thought to have been a late development, but as we have already seen Philon was aware of one-armed stone-throwers.  Unfortunately, he provides no specifics, and the weapon’s construction from mostly organic materials means that few physical remains are likely to survive.  Scroll forward just over three centuries later and a fleeting reference to a one-armed stone-thrower next appears in the work of the Emperor Trajan's engineer, Apollodorus of Damascus.  Indeed, the time of Trajan’s reign is significant because, as Marsden determined, during this period the terminology for artillery clearly changed.

Marsden was struck by the similarities between Heron’s cheiroballistra, an iron-framed palintone bolt-shooter, and the artillery pieces depicted on Trajan’s Column in Rome that date to around AD 110.  Although they were bolt-shooters, their wide palintone torsion frames qualified them for the term ballistae.  It seemed clear to Marsden that, from the reign of Trajan onward, palintones supplanted euthytones as the preferred machines for shooting bolts; ironically a capability they had always possessed.  The euthytone design seemingly disappeared from the mainstream and the one-armed machine usurped the name scorpio (scorpion), which had, up to this point, indicated a euthytone bolt-shooter.

If more evidence is needed then in his Scorpiace, written ca. AD 210, Tertullian describes how the creature, "rising up in an arching attack, draws its hooked sting up like a torsion machine; from this feature, they call the war machine a scorpion, that shoots its missiles by retracting."^[6]  Tertullian equates the scorpion's tail to a one-armed torsion machine of the same name, in exactly the same way that Ammianus will do later.

Despite Tertullian from the reign of Emperor Trajan until the fourth century AD, when they are familiar to Ammianus and Vegetius, it seems that “the one-armed machines slip once more into obscurity.”^[7]  Marsden notes that Ammianus refers to these one-arm machines as scorpio, catapulta, or onager, although Ammianus gives us the impression that the latter name was the “modern” and popular one.

So, what can we conclude?  The name applied to a given piece of torsion artillery heavily depends which author you reference, their familiarity with the subject matter, and the point in time they are describing.  It is just possible that all three types of weapon were in use concurrently and that perhaps the terms catapult, ballista and scorpion did refer to bolt-shooters, stone-throwers and one-armed machines respectively.  Personally, the author is inclined to use the terms catapultae for bolt-shooting euthytones, ballistae for stone-throwing palintones and, like Tertullian, reserve the term scorpiones for the one-armed machines known to later Romans as “onagers”.  But then, what's in a name?

Notes:

1.  Pliny the Elder, The Natural History, Book VII, 201: “...among the artillery, the scorpion [were invented by[ the Cretans, the catapult [by] the Syrians, the ballista and the sling [by] the Phoenicians.”

2.  Wilkins, A, Roman Artillery, (Shire, 2003), p. 13.

3.  Marsden E. W., Greek and Roman Artillery, Historical Development (Oxford, 1969), p. 179f.

4.  Ammianus Marcellinus, Rerum Gestarum, book 23, chapter 4, section 7.                           

5.  Philon, Poliorketika, 91, 33-8, as quoted in Wilkins (2003), p. 66.

6.  Tertullian, Scorpiace, 1.1.1-2.

7.  Marsden E. W., Greek and Roman Artillery, Technical Treatises (Oxford, 1971), p. 249.

Ready, Aim...Shoot!

Many years ago, long before I joined The Roman Military Research Society (or THE RMRS), a teacher inspired his pupils to build a catapulta, or bolt-shooting Roman period artillery machine.  I guess the project was in part a history lesson combined with developing practical engineering skills.  Whatever the motive, however, the resulting machine was eventually gifted to the Lunt Roman Fort in Baginton near Coventry.  When I first encountered this machine it was part of a static display in the Fort's small horea (granary) museum, and there it sat, unobtrusively, for many years.

A recent refurbishment of the Lunt Fort's granary saw the catapult placed in storage where it could easily have remained, forgotten.  Except for the fort's Engagement and Development Manager, Paul Thompson, who decided the machine would be an ideal addition to the new displays and, if working, could demonstrate how it works, and shoots, to school parties and other visitors.

So, who could do the repairs?  Enter THE RMRS or more specifically Len Morgan and myself. For my part, my knowledge and understanding of ancient Greco-Roman artillery has been inspired and much improved by three mentors: Alan Wilkins FSA, Len Morgan and the late Tom Feeley.  Over decades of research and practical experimentation, these "three wise men" have done much to promote the wider understanding of such machines.  Alan, for example, has spent a lifetime deciphering the manuscripts written by authors such as Philon, Biton and Vitruvius who recorded their thoughts and their technical treatises in ancient Greek or Latin.

Sadly, what survives for us to work with today are often copies made in the past by scribes practicing or perfecting their craft.  Since such men were not engineers, crucial textual information can be mistranslated, transcribed incorrectly or omitted altogether.  Alan, therefore, has been instrumental in identifying and correcting various errors or deducing the often essential but missing information.  Together with Len and Tom, both experienced engineers, models and full-size machines have since been recreated to test theories and demonstrate these artillery pieces to academics and the wider public.

A great deal of work had already gone in to getting the machine to the stage shown opposite.  The trigger mechanism was removed and renovated to improve its operation and avoid undue damage to the bowstring.  A new pull back cord was fitted connecting the windlass to the trigger mechanism, itself attached to the slider.  Even the pawls on the trigger assembly were chamfered so they did not foul the ratchet when the slider is pushed forward.

Most importantly, as the spring washers were of turned wood, these were reinforced with steel pins and collars to resist the forces generated when spanning the weapon and when shooting.  This measure proved to be a good move as a crack quickly appeared when the weapon was tensioned for the first time.  The original wooden levers were replaced with mild steel versions.  This was necessary because it is around these levers, or bars if you prefer, that the cord is wound to create the spring bundles.


Into the spring bundles the bow-arms are inserted, as can be seen opposite.  Rotating and pinning the washers in position imparts a twist to the cord bundle.  Pulling back the bow-arms twists the bundles even further increasing the potential energy stored in each spring.  This is where such torsion engines get the power to project missiles.

The penultimate task was to fit a new bow-string, whipping and sewing the ends together to form the loops that hook onto the bow-arms.  Finally, the vane ends of the bolts were reduced to fit between the fingers of the trigger such that when loaded they rest cleanly against the bow-string.

With all the work complete it was testing time.  The materials used in its original construction were never going to make the machine particularly powerful but the ol' girl still shoots.  So, all being well, visitors and especially school parties will soon get to see the Lunt Fort's cataputa in action once more.

Dispelling Some Myths: Gladiators

Gladiators were the sporting heroes of the ancient world. The archaeological record shows them celebrated in everything from mosaics to graffiti. Motifs of gladiators are found on nearly a third of all oil lamps from Roman archaeological digs throughout the Empire. But who were they? How much did they risk each time they entered the arena? What were their chances of getting out alive?

While the origin of gladiatorial combat is open to debate there is evidence of it in funeral rites (known as munera [1]) during the Punic Wars of the 3rd-century BC. The fighters in these early munera fought with swords, hence the name. Thereafter munera rapidly became an essential feature of politics and social life in the Roman world. Their popularity led to ever more lavish and costly games featuring armed combatants entertaining audiences in the Roman Republic and Roman Empire in violent confrontations with other gladiators, wild animals, and condemned criminals. Irrespective of their origin, gladiators offered spectators an example of Rome's martial ethics and, in fighting or dying well, they could inspire admiration and popular acclaim.

All were slaves  If you have watched Ridley Scott’s 2000 film ‘Gladiator’ you can be forgiven for thinking that all fighters in the arena were slaves. In one sense, this is true. Despite their ‘celebrity status’ [2] - if contemporary high and low art (such as graffiti) is anything to be believed - in the strict social hierarchy of the Roman world gladiators were counted among the infames [3]. In Roman law, anyone condemned to the arena or the gladiator schools (damnati ad ludum) was a servus poenae (slave of the penalty), and was considered to be under sentence of death unless manumitted (freed).

Only slaves found guilty of specific offences could be sentenced to the arena while citizens found guilty of certain offences could be stripped of citizenship, formally enslaved, then sentenced. Slaves, once freed, could be legally reverted to slavery for certain offences. Arena punishment could be given for banditry, theft, arson, and for treasons such as rebellion, census evasion to avoid paying due taxes, and refusal to swear lawful oaths.

Offenders seen as particularly obnoxious to the state (noxii) received the most humiliating punishments. By the 1st-century BC, noxii were being condemned to the beasts (damnati ad bestias) in the arena with little chance of survival, or simply were made to kill each other. By the early Imperial era, some were forced to participate in humiliating and novel forms of mythological or historical enactment, culminating in their execution. Those judged less harshly might be condemned ad ludum venatorium (combat with animals) or ad gladiatorium (combat with gladiators) and armed as thought appropriate. These damnati at least might put on a good show and retrieve some respect and, very rarely, survive to fight another day. Some may even have become ‘proper’ gladiators. Yet, as infames, gladiators were largely despised as slaves, socially marginalised, and segregated even in death.

‘He vows to endure to be burned, to be bound, to be beaten, and to be killed by the sword’ (Petronius. Satyricon, 117)

We know from contemporary accounts that some gladiators were volunteers who risked their lives and their legal and social standing as freemen by appearing in the arena. Their reasons for giving up their freedom and risking serious injury or death in the arena may have been many and varied. A condemned bankrupt or debtor, for example, might be accepted as novice (novicius) whereupon he could negotiate with his lanista (manager of gladiators) or editor (sponsor of the games) for the partial or complete payment of his debt. For some, the potential rewards and the opportunity to escape poverty were motivation enough. For others, perhaps it was the fame and celebrity status that appealed. A few may have entered the arena purely for the thrill or love of fighting.

In the Imperial era, these volunteers required a magistrate's permission to join a ludus (gladiator school) as auctorati. If granted, the school's physician assessed their suitability. Their contract (auctoramentum) stipulated how often they were to perform, their fighting style and earnings. Faced with runaway re-enlistment fees for skilled auctorati, the emperor Marcus Aurelius set an upper limit at 12,000 sesterces. Among the most admired auctorati were those who, having been granted manumission, volunteered to continue fighting in the arena. Some of these may have been highly trained and experienced specialists for whom there was no other practical choice open to them. The legal status of auctorati - whether slave or free - remains uncertain. 

Bound by sacred oath  All prospective gladiators, whether volunteer or condemned, were bound to service by a sacred oath (sacramentum) vowing ‘to endure to be burned, to be bound, to be beaten, and to be killed by the sword’ (Petronius, Satyricon, 117). Novices trained under teachers (doctores) who were most likely retired gladiators skilled in particular fighting styles. Lethal weapons were prohibited in the schools - weighted, blunt wooden versions were probably used. Fighting techniques were probably learned through constant rehearsal as choreographed ‘numbers’ to produce the preferred elegant, economical style. Training included preparation for a stoical, unflinching death.

Gladiators were typically accommodated in cells, arranged in barrack-like buildings set around a central practice arena. Once in the school their training required intense commitment, and discipline could be extreme, even lethal. Those who performed well, however, could ascend through a hierarchy of grades (sing. palus) in which primus palus was the highest [4]. Indeed Juvenal describes the segregation of gladiators according to type and status reinforcing the idea that within the schools were rigid hierarchies: ‘even the lowest scum of the arena observe this rule; even in prison they are separate.’ As most combatants were from the same school, segregation kept potential opponents separate and safe from each other until they enter the arena.

To the Death  Gladiator deaths in the arena were probably not as high as many modern commentators often portray. Gladiators were expensive to provide for and train, and perhaps to protect the investment, most only fought two or three times per year.

A gladiator’s price was fixed according to his rank, status and degree of success, with their market value being highly relevant if they died in the arena. His death became a chargeable item by which the owner, usually the lanista, would be recompensed. In the 1st-century AD a common day-labourer in Rome typically could expect to be paid two sesterces per day. Compare that with a first grade gladiator in the lowest class of munera who may have commanded a maximum price of 5,000 sestertii which, according to Shadrake, is the equivalent of about £32,000 today. This is hardly a trivial sum of money or investment to be carelessly discarded (Shadrake, 2005, 91).

The Emperor Augustus for example, prohibited combats sine missio (in this sense ‘without mercy’), or to the death. This was partly to recognise the investment value of a skilled fighter but mostly to limit extravagant displays and the political value to those staging contests (editores) by influencing voters with lavish entertainment. In the 1st-century AD, the chances of survival have been estimated at 9:1 based on analysing the results of contests. If a gladiator lost, the ratio reduced to 4:1 and ultimately depended on a successful appeal for missio (‘mercy’). Under later emperors, however, a gladiator’s chances of survival deteriorated as more and more fights were to the death.

If a gladiator survived three years of fighting in the arena, however, he would win his freedom. Those who did often became teachers in the gladiator school; and one of the skeletons excavated at Ephesus in Turkey appears to be that of a retired fighter (Kupper & Jones, 2007). None of this denies the facts that gladiators died in the arena, just that their chances of survival varied at different times.

Men only  For convenience we have used the male pronoun throughout, but this usefully reveals another ‘Hollywood’ myth: that gladiators were all men. To be fair to the film ‘Gladiator’ there is a scene where the hero Maximus (played by Russel Crowe) and an all-male band of fighters face at least one chariot borne gladiatrix (‘swordswoman’; pl. gladiatrices). Even so, it was thought for some time that scenes such as that portrayed in the film and women fighting in the arena were a rare occurrence and dismissed as mere novelty acts.

Ancient voices  Yet we know women did perform in the arena as we have several contemporary eyewitness accounts. According to the biographer Suetonius, for example, writing of games held by Emperor Domitian (reigned AD 81 - AD 96) states that women as well as men took part as gladiators (Suetonius, Life of Domitian, 4.1). Around the same time Tacitus informs us that ‘many women of rank…disgraced themselves in the arena’ in gladiatorial games held by Emperor Nero (Tacitus, Annals, 15.32). During a festival in honour of Emperor Nero’s mother, Cassius Dio also notes that women of both senatorial and equestrian rank ‘drove horses, killed wild beasts and fought as gladiators, some willingly, some sore against their will’ (Dio, Roman History, 62.17.3). It should be noted that the involvement of elite women was more of an issue of status rather than gender, as the participation of elite men was shocking as well. In Roman society the upper classes must not entertain lower classes, as the former were at risk of being seen as beneath their observers.

Legislation during the earlier reign of Emperor Augustus is a major clue. It threatened freeborn females with infamia should they participate as gladiators. Much later, around AD 200, Emperor Septimius Severus’ enacted a law forbidding fights between women in Rome’s Flavian Amphitheatre (‘The Coliseum’). Significantly, laws are rarely pre-emptive, and historians such as Murray (2003) and McCullough (2008) both agree that legislation in general existed to curb behaviour that was socially unacceptable. In essence, for punishment to be warranted, the crime must have occurred. Both pieces of legislation therefore imply that female gladiators existed.

Sculptural evidence  A bronze sculpture from the 1st-century AD (see right), kept at the Museum für Kunst und Gewerbein in Germany, was long thought to be a woman holding a cleaning tool known as a strigil. In 2011 the statuette was re-evaluated by a Spanish scholar and it now thought she was more likely a female gladiator raising a short, curved sword called a sica aloft in triumph. Significantly, she is also bare-chested, as gladiators typically fought (Beck, 2022).

One of the best pieces of evidence is in the collection of The British Museum. It is a 2nd-century AD carved marble relief, recovered from Halicarnassus in Turkey, commemorating either the release from service or the discharge after a draw of two female gladiators named ‘Amazon’ and ‘Achillia’ (see right). Their stage names are inscribed below each figure on the platform upon which both fighters are standing. At their feet, to each side of the platform, are either the heads of two spectators or the fighters’ helmets. Unfortunately these objects cannot be positively identified although the latter is favoured as the better explanation given the context. Although missing the head, the figure on the right is the clearest indicator that the two are gladiatrices as ‘Achillia’ is the female derivation of ‘Achilles’, the Homeric hero of the ‘Iliad’ [5]. Kathleen Coleman also points out the peculiarity of the women's names as a clear reference to the myth of Achilles and Penthesileia, queen of the Amazons. It could be that this pair of female gladiators often fought each other as a re-enactment of mythological scenes (Coleman, 2000, 487-500).

Both fighters are armed with the same equipment as male gladiators, albeit without helmets, and are advancing to attack with swords and shields. Both are wearing padded leg protection and something similar on their sword arm. Apart from body defences, each figure wears subligaria, the elaborately folded loincloth held in place with a wide belt (Latin: balteus). The term subligaria derives from the verb subligare meaning ‘to bind below’ (sub under + ligare to bind). As shown right, to secure such garments a ‘long piece of material has to be tied around the waist and then [passed] between the thighs, leaving a section of cloth to emerge at the front, tucking [it] under the knot at the front waist fastening, and out over the crotch area, like an apron’ (Shadrake, 2005, 168). Viewed from behind the loincloth has ‘unflatteringly [been] referred to as a ‘nappy’ or ‘diaper’ (Shadrake, 2005, 168). Most importantly, the wearing of subligaria accorded with the Italian custom of preserving modesty by covering the genitals.

That said modesty seems have been forgone as, like the aforementioned bronze statuette, each woman’s torso appears to be naked from the waist up. While this seems to have been the case with most categories of gladiator, did women perform topless? If they did, is this one of the reasons gladiatrices were thought of as simply a ‘titillating spectacle’? Or were Amazon and Achillia depicted bare breasted simply to advertise their gender? Either way, fighting topless in the arena would be impractical and uncomfortable and thus the wearing of a breast band called a strophium [6], as worn by women exercising in the mosaic from Villa Casale, Sicily (pictured below), seems much more likely. The lack of definitive evidence makes it difficult to draw any safe conclusions, however.

Reading the bones  Excavations in 2007 identified what scientists believe is the first discovery of an identifiable graveyard for gladiators at Ephesus in Turkey, once a major city of the Roman world (Deggin, 2015). Marked by three gravestones depicting gladiators, the Ephesus graves yielded thousands of bones from which researchers identified around 67 individuals, mostly aged between 20 and 30 years old. Analysis of their skeletal remains and the injuries present on the bones gave new insights into how the deceased lived, fought and died. Most strikingly was the observation that several ‘gladiators’ bore wounds that had healed during their lifetimes. Apart from being evidence that gladiators were valued enough to received good medical care, it was noted that they had not suffered multiple wounds as might be expected in a melee or close-quarters combat. The observable evidence seemingly proves they fought in organised duels, following rules that were enforced by a referee.

We know that gladiators generally fought one-on-one, with armour and weaponry designed to give conflicting advantages. For example, a lightly armoured, helmetless gladiator with a net and trident, a ‘retarius’, would typically be matched with a slower moving, more heavily armoured fighter armed with a large helmet, sword and shield (Deggin, 2015). Most matches employed a senior referee (summa rudis) and one or more assistants, who are often shown in mosaics with long staffs (rudes) to caution or separate opponents at some crucial point in the match. Referees were usually retired gladiators whose decisions, judgement and discretion were, for the most part, respected; they could stop bouts entirely, or pause them to allow the combatants rest, refreshment and a rub-down. The parallels with modern boxing matches divided into rounds and with corner men are inescapable.

The Dover Street Woman  Seven years earlier, in 2000, the discovery of the ‘Great Dover Street Woman’ was announced following excavations in 1996 at 165 Great Dover Street, Southwark in London (Bateman, 2008, 194-198). Museum of London Archaeology (MOLA) identified the grave of a Romano-British woman dating from the early 2nd- to mid 3rd-century AD. She had received a bustum funeral, a form of cremation above a pit into which her remains eventually fell and were then covered; a style of burial rare in Roman Britain. Only a small amount of human bone survived, but analysis of a pelvis fragment concluded the skeleton was of a female in her 20s. Added to the grave fill after the cremation were eight unburnt ceramic oil lamps and eight tazze. Evidence was also found for molten glass, gold textile, burnt pinecones, chicken, bread, and dates forming part of the cremation ritual (Bateman, 2008, 194-198).

Archaeologists at MOLA proposed that the remains might represent the first female gladiator discovered. The presence of a gladiatorial image on one of the oil lamps, three others showing the Egyptian god Anubis who is associated with the passage of the dead to the underworld, and the style of the burial were suggestive of this interpretation (Bateman, 2008, 194-198). In the 2000 report of the excavations by MOLA, Angela Wardle concluded that while the interpretation of this cremation as a gladiator ‘can only be speculative...it is certainly possible’ (Wardle, 2000, 27-30). This interpretation is contested because the excavated evidence is far too speculative. As Alexandra Sills points out: ‘attempts to identify the remains of Roman women as gladiators, such as the Great Dover Street lady of London, are often influenced by the desire for a good story rather than conclusive material evidence’ (Sills, 2021). Sadly, in an era where funding for archaeological work is tied inextricably to headline grabbing public relations, one can see why such a tenuous gladiator connection was seized upon. Without further conclusive proof perhaps Nick Bateman is right to conclude that the burial was more likely to represent a complex religious and ritual process which incorporated gladiatorial images rather than representing the life experience of the woman as a gladiator (Bateman, 2008, 194-198).

Gladiatrix  As Shadrake points out: ‘the subject of female gladiators has always aroused strong emotions; then as now, they have been seen as aberrations or novelties’ (Shadrake, 2005, 185). As mentioned previously, there are a few references to women fighters in the literary sources, and some evidence from inscriptions on monuments. From such evidence, gladiatrices clearly existed ‘as an authentic gladiatorial category rather than a fevered fantasy’ (Shadrake, 2005, 185). Such proof of their existence however does not guarantee how frequently women appeared in the arena.

We have only briefly touched the subject of gladiators, but hopefully we have dispelled three of the common misconceptions or myths about them. Not everyone who entered the arena began life as a slave, although volunteering to do so invited a form of public disgrace. Both men and women fought but not always to the death as films might lead us to believe. That is not to say it was a life without risk as all combat is inherently dangerous. Yet one cannot help wonder whether it is the thrill of the dangers that continues to attract audiences.

References:

Bateman, N., (2008), ‘Death, women, and the afterlife: some thoughts on a burial in Southwark’, in John Clark; Jonathan Cotton; Jenny Hall; Roz Sherris; Hedley Swain (eds.), ‘Londinium and Beyond: Essays on Roman London and its Hinterland for Harvey Sheldon’ (PDF), CBA Research Report 156, Council for British Archaeology.
Beck, M., (2022), ‘Did Women Fight as Gladiators in Ancient Rome?’, available online (accessed May 2nd, 2022).
Coleman, K., (2000), ‘Missio at Halicarnassus’, Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 100.
Deggin, C., (2015), ‘The secret lives of Turkey’s gladiators’, Property Turkey, available online (accessed May 2nd, 2022).
Irving, L., (), ‘Thumbs Up for Female Gladiators’, available online (accessed May 2nd, 2022).
Kupper, M. and Jones, H., (2007), ‘Gladiators' graveyard discovered’, Timewatch, BBC News, available online (accessed May 2nd, 2022).
McCullough, A., (2008), ‘Female Gladiators in Imperial Rome: Literary Context and Historical Fact’, The Classical World 101:2, pp. 197-209.
Murray, S. R., (2003), ‘Female Gladiators of the Ancient Roman World’, The Journal of Combative Sport, July Issue, pp. 1-16.
Shadrake, S. (2005), The World of the Gladiator, Stroud: Tempus.
Sills, A., (2021), ’Were there female gladiators?’, BadAncient, available online (accessed May4th, 2022).
Wardle, A., (2000), ‘Funerary rites, burial practice and belief’, in Mackinder, A. (ed.), ‘Romano-British Cemetery on Watling Street: Excavations at 165 Great Dover Street, Southwark, London’, MOLA Studies Series 4, Museum of London Archaeology.

Ancient sources:

Cassius Dio, Roman History, Book 62.
Suetonius, Life of Domitian.
Tacitus, Annals, Book 15, 1-32.

Endnotes:

1. Munera were public works and entertainments provided for the benefit of the Roman people by individuals of high status and wealth. Munera (sing. munus) means ‘duty, obligation’ in the sense that an individual had a responsibility to provide a service or contribution to his community. The word was often a synonym for gladiatorial combat, which was originally sponsored as a funeral tribute at the tomb of a deceased Roman magnate by his heir. Munera depended on the private largesse of individuals, in contrast to ludi, which were games, athletic contests or spectacles sponsored by the state.

2. Gladiators’ value as entertainers was commemorated in precious and commonplace objects throughout the Roman world.

3. In ancient Roman society, infamia (in-, ‘not’, and fama ‘reputation’) was a loss of legal or social standing; in effect public disgrace. In Roman law a censor or praetor could impose infamia whereby a person was officially excluded from the legal protections enjoyed by a Roman citizen. More generally, especially during the Republic and Principate, infamia was informal damage to one's esteem or reputation. Such a person was known as an infamis (pl. infames).

4. Latin palus, meaning ‘stake’ or ‘post’, is probably a reference to the post erected in ludi for gladiators, or in army training grounds for soldiers, to practice sword cuts and thrusts.

5. The epic poem recounting the tale of the Greek siege of Troy.

6. Also known as fascia pectoralis, fasciola, taenia, or mamillare.

Stone Age Barbecue

In the summer of 2015 archaeologists from the University of Edinburgh attempted to recreate a style of Stone Age cooking based on their discovery of a 9,000 year old barbecue pit.

Over the last three years excavations have been ongoing at Prastio Mesorotsos situated in the Diarizos Valley outside of Paphos on the Mediterranean island of Cyprus. The site, which has been almost continuously occupied from the Neolithic era to the present, offers a wealth of insights in to the practices of our ancestors but it is on ancient culinary techniques that we will focus.

A stone-lined, ash-covered pit measuring about 2.5 metres (8 feet) across and 1 metre (3 feet) deep was discovered, but it was only this summer that the archaeologists could say with some certainty they were looking at an ancient oven. Its sheer size, however, was troubling. For an oven of this type the newly discovered pit was thought to be at the theoretical maximum since to keep such an oven hot enough would require a significant amount of energy.

With no one sure whether cooking would have been even feasible, but in the spirit of the Stone Age (and experimental archaeology), it was decided to recreate a prehistoric pit feast. The aim was to feed 200 people with pig and goat, slow-roasted underground and thus test the culinary methods of Neolithic cooks.

A replica pit was duly dug, although modern tools were used as it was felt that getting to grips with stone tools would have taken too long. Searching for the other necessary elements to cook the meal stuck to ancient methods, however. The archaeologists scoured local riverbeds for big igneous stones that would retain and radiate heat, and they hauled their choice rocks uphill in sacks or with a yoke made from a stick and baskets - a time-consuming and painstaking task.

Local clay was collected in buckets to hold the 400 stones in place around the outside of the oven. The team made its own charcoals out of lemon and carob wood. They also tanned 10 goat skins that would be used as parcels for the meat and crafted meat hooks out of sapling wood.

Bones found at the site provided compelling evidence that the prehistoric inhabitants ate pigs, goats and deer. Thus it was decided to source a 70 kg (150 lbs) pig (skin on, head detached) and a 38 kg (80 lbs) goat from a local butcher. Deer, now extinct in Cyprus, was left off the menu.

Days before the feast, the team let a fire burn in the stone-lined pit for 24 hours so that the ground, possibly still cold and damp from a wet winter, would not suck the heat out of their oven. The charcoal was lit the day before the feast and were covered with another layer of stones to prevent the meat directly touching the heat source. When the oven was ready, the pig, stuffed with bulgur wheat, wild fennel stems, anise and bay leaves before getting sewn up tightly with hemp twine and packed into a blanket, was placed on the hot stones. Similarly the goat meat, which had been chopped, spiced with herbs like wild oregano and divided between two parcels, was placed in the pit.

More herbs were packed on top of the meat, before the oven was sealed with stones and a clay-and-mud mixture. Another fire was then lit on top of the closed pit so that heat would not escape overnight.  Slow roasting ensured that the meat was tender and infused with the tastes of lemon wood, carob and bay leaf.

Much was learned through the experiment. Firstly it was proved that a pit of the size found could indeed cook sufficient food to satisfy 200 guests and still have leftovers that could have sustained them for even longer. It is thought that fat rendered from the pig may have been used to preserve leftover meat. While the fat will turn rancid, the meat will not and can be stored for up to a year by this method.

While preparing the pit roast, the team also inadvertently recreated some of the more elusive, sensory elements of such a prehistoric feast. The spectacle of the three-day-long fire required to heat the oven would not have been a regular experience and thus may well have had a special significance for the local community.  The light and heat generated throughout the night was probably as much an important part of the feast as the gathering of people to enjoy the result. It is hard not to imagine storytelling, dancing and laughter round the communal fire - much as many of us often enjoy today.