The End of the Roman Republic
Though not without their share of problems, the three films discussed in the previous chapters, Troy, 300, and Alexander, considered together, provide moments that can help one visualize how some ancient battles in the Greco-Macedonian world may have looked. When it comes to the armies of the Romans, however, there is a noticeable dearth of films. Very few modern movies treat of any period earlier than the Empire. The few exceptions portray armies in the late Republic, the first century BC. There are various retellings of the Spartacus Revolt of the 70s BC, of which we shall consider two: the classic Spartacus (1960) directed by Stanley Kubrick and a much more recent made-for-cable version by USA Films. For the very end of the Republic, HBO’s series Rome depicts Caesar’s Battle of Alesia (52 BC) and the Battle of Philippi (42 BC) between Caesar’s assassins and successors.
To get a better understanding of Roman military developments in the late Republic, however, it is helpful to examine what Roman armies were like in the earlier stages of the Republic. But first a quick refresher on Roman political history will help contextualize the military developments. The city of Rome was founded at some point in the eighth century when a group of the people known as Latins united their village communities on several of the hills of Rome into one city. Rome was initially governed by a king, and under the kings the marketplaces, temples, and city walls were first constructed. By the end of the sixth century, however, a group of nobles, frustrated with the limits a monarchy placed on their quests for offices, honours, and prestige, overthrew the last king of Rome and established a political system called the Republic. The Republic developed slowly, as all ancient societies did, and it took several centuries, up to what is generally called the Middle Republic for it to gain its classic features. Essentially the administration of the Republic was handled by yearly elected magistrates from the elite of society. Long term guidance was provided by the senate, 300 former magistrates who handled the financial, diplomatic, and strategic decisions of the polity. A series of citizen assemblies ensured that even the poorer citizens at Rome had some say in their government’s doings. These assemblies had functions ranging from electing magistrates to ratifying or rejecting proposed laws. As the Romans came to conquer first Italy, then the Mediterranean, political competition between members of the elite became more pronounced. By the late Republic, of the second and first centuries BC, murder and revolution became possible solutions to conflicts between politicians. Ultimately the Republic collapsed in what amounted to four civil wars, with intervals of peace, from 90–31 BC. At the end of this time a man named Octavian, the adopted son of the murdered dictator Julius Caesar, was essentially the last warlord standing. He received the honorific title, Augustus, from the senate and established what moderns call the Roman Empire. From Augustus’ day until the collapse of the Empire in the fifth century AD, Rome and its empire were again ruled by a monarch, the emperor.
The Roman Army of the Middle and Late Republic
In the early Republic (sixth – fourth centuries BC), the Romans adopted the Greek-style phalanx, the cutting edge military innovation of the age. Men who could provide the minimum necessary equipment of shield spear and, perhaps, helmet, served in the phalanx. The wealthier men, however, could and did protect themselves with better equipment. Sometime no later than the early third century, the Romans transformed their phalanx into a more complicated and flexible system of fighters. The core tactical unit of this new army was the maniple, of which there were thirty in a legion. The front line fighters consisted of men in their fighting prime. The younger among these were called the hastati, those a bit older, the principes. Hastati were formed into 10 maniples of 120 men per maniple; the principes made up another 10 maniples, also at 120 men per maniple. The triarii, made up of veterans who were 45 or older, formed ten maniples of 60 men per maniple. The remainder of the infantry, the youngest and poorest troops, served as velites, light infantry with javelins. The citizen cavalry force of 300 brought the total size of a legion to the neighbourhood of 4,500 soldiers.
For defensive equipment the heavy infantry soldiers – hastati, principes, and triarii – carried that iconic legionary shield, the scutum. This large convex shield was oval-shaped in the Republic but transformed into a curved rectangular form during the early Empire, the first century AD.1 According to the Greek author Polybius, at least in the Republic the legionary shields were made of thin layers of plywood glued together, topped with hide and bound round the edges with iron. The centre had a single metal boss with a horizontal handgrip on the inner side.2 The few archaeological specimens of shields extant essentially corroborate Polybius’ description while showing the great variety that was possible within that general form. A Roman shield found over a century ago in Egypt had no metal bindings and a wooden spine that ran vertically along the centre of the shield to reinforce it. This shield measured 4ft x 2ft and weighed over 20lbs – a heavy shield indeed.3 The few other examples found suggest shields could be as light as 12lbs, have wooden or metal bosses, and come with or without metal binding. Presumably a scutum was meant to extend from a soldier’s shoulder to knee at the least.4
In addition to their shields, the heavy infantry wore several different pieces of body armour. The bronze helmet was topped with a crest of feathers to make the soldier appear taller and more intimidating.5 Greaves protected the legs. The type of body armour supplied depended on the wealth of the soldier. Those soldiers among the hastati and principes who had sufficient wealth wore a shirt of mail, while the poorer citizens wore only a small bronze breastplate, according to Polybius, about 9 inches2 and designed primarily to protect the region of the heart.6
For weapons the hastati and principes carried a combination of a special javelin, the pilum, and the so-called ‘Spanish sword’ or gladius hispaniensis. The pilum was a specially designed javelin. Its iron head measured approximately 2 inches and was connected to a wooden shaft by means of a thin rod of iron. The primary function of the design was to enable the pilum to penetrate a shield and continue on into the shield-bearer’s body. The pyramidal point most commonly found on the pilum head was a design that facilitated armour penetration, the weight of the device added penetrating power, and the low friction of the thin spit ensured that the javelin would continue on its course after penetrating the shield. Modern tests with reconstructed pila suggest one could be cast from 5 yards away, pierce a plywood shield ¾″ thick, and continue its flight into the opponent’s body. A helpful side effect of this design noted by ancient and modern authors, was that the thin metal rod attached to the head frequently bent on impact. This weakness made it likely for the pilum to bend as it punctured an enemy shield, weighing down the shield and making the pilum useless for a counter-attack.7 Once the pilum was cast, the legionaries’ main weapon was the gladius hispaniensis. This was a short sword with a sharp two-edged blade that ranged, judging from the various surviving examples, from 16–20 inches in length.8 The blade ended in a sharp point, and thus a legionary could use it both to cut and stab his enemy (see plate 18).9
Though the precise details of the mechanics are lost to us, one key to the manipular legion’s success was its flexibility. The army employed a mix of units, light infantry, cavalry, pila-armed hastati and principes, and even triarii who played a defensive role if the army was hard-pressed. A second key was its ability to rotate maniples in and out of the front lines as a battle progressed. The Roman historian Livy describes the rotation system,
When the battle formation of the army was completed, the hastati were the first to engage. If they failed to repulse the enemy, they slowly retired through the intervals between the companies of the principes, who then took up the fight, the hastati following in their rear. The triarii, meantime, were resting on one knee under their standards, their shields over their shoulders and their spears planted on the ground with the points upwards, giving them the appearance of a bristling palisade. If the principes were also unsuccessful, they slowly retired to the triarii, which has given rise to the proverbial saying, when people are in great difficulty ‘matters have come down to the triarii’. When the triarii had admitted the hastati and principes through the intervals separating their companies they rose from their kneeling posture and instantly closing their companies up they blocked all passage through them and in one compact mass fell on the enemy as the last hope of the army. The enemy who had followed up the others as though they had defeated them, saw with dread a new and larger army rising apparently out of the earth.10
It is not at all clear how exactly this worked in practice. To give just one problem as an example: were the gaps between each maniple in a line maniple sized? If so, how did Roman soldiers with large maniple-sized gaps in their lines hold off enemies that had no gaps? The sources are clear it happened however, and historians have simply been left to speculate about the precise mechanics.11
Unfortunately, while some films have purported to deal with the period when Romans employed the manipular army, none offers a compelling cinematic depiction of the army in action. The majority fall under the category of ‘sword and sandals films’, low budget epics set in ancient Rome. Most were made by Italian directors and crews and their heyday was the 1960s.12 They generally employ historical stock battle scenes focused on wild melees between Romans clad in imagined leather armour and their opponents. Cabiria is a notable example. Made in 1914, this silent film tells a tale of adventure set in the context of the Second Punic war against the Carthaginian Hannibal. The plot focuses on the Roman girl Cabiria, who along with her nurse Croessa is captured and sold to the Carthaginian High Priest. The priest plans to sacrifice Cabiria to the god Moloch, but she and her nurse are rescued by a Roman spy, Fulvius, and his slave Maciste. In the background of their adventures Hannibal’s invasion of Rome and the Roman attack on Syracuse are depicted dramatically. This is an adventure romp, however, not a war film, and the soldiers are armed and equipped either as fantastically garbed generals in outlandish parade armour or as imperial legionaries in armour that did not come into use until the first century AD. Despite Cabiria’s merits as an adventure film, it is typical of the genre and offers nothing for imagining Roman battles realistically.
Special mention should be made, however, of the 1937 Italian film Scipio L’Africano. The film itself consists of openly Fascist propaganda and, accordingly, dropped out of public favour quickly.13 Leaving aside its dubious political pedigree, however, the film recreates a heroic Battle of Zama (202 BC) between the Roman forces of Scipio and the Carthaginian Forces of Hannibal. The scale is epic: hundreds if not thousands of actors were clearly employed to represent the battle scenes. The depiction of war wounds is realistic for the limited technologies of the time and the battle is depicted as a brutal affair. The attack of the Carthaginian elephants against Roman velites is particularly notable as are the large scale cavalry duel and the final clash of Roman and Carthaginian infantry. Still, the battle scenes, while powerful, are not all that realistic. Velites are distinguished from other legionaries but those legionaries are all armed anachronistically with rectangular scuta and segmented armour from centuries later. The legionaries all carry large thrusting spears instead of pila. Most undermining, when the infantry clash, which happens several times on film, they break formations immediately and dissolve into mobs brawling.
Jupiter’s Darling
Truly on the lighter side Jupiter’s Darling of 1955 casts Hannibal’s invasion of Italy as a musical starring star swimmer/actress Esther Williams and musical veteran Howard Keel. Amytis (Williams) is a Roman woman engaged to marry the dictator Fabius Maximus (George Sanders). Curious about Hannibal (Keel) who is marching against Rome, she sneaks out of the city and to the general’s camp. Caught by Hannibal she is initially treated as a spy. Amytis and Hannibal fall in love, however, and after a series of misunderstandings characteristic of the romantic musical genre, decide to spend their lives together.
Transformation of the Roman Manipular Army
The military demands of the Republic had grown steadily throughout the second century. Rome acquired numerous new overseas provinces after the Second Punic War, fought against Carthage and that oft-praised general Hannibal. As the Republic took control of territory in regions like Spain and northeast Italy, they came into conflict with still more people. After winning many wars – not always easily by any means – against these new neighbours, yet more territory came under Roman influence, and so the Romans gained new sets of frictions with peoples farther and farther away from Rome. And so over the course of the second century, Rome came to dominate most of the Mediterranean: Spain then the Balkans, followed by Asia Minor and Tunisia, and so on. These new military commitments were largely overseas. In the third century when Rome remained mostly an Italian power, a year’s service for a Roman usually meant one spring and summer campaign, after which he could return to his fields. And so when Polybius says each Roman was liable to serve sixteen years in the infantry what he really meant was a maximum of sixteen campaigns.14 When military duties were exercised in a far off province, however, those sixteen years could turn into actual consecutive years, a very different proposition. Ordinarily the term of continuous service seems to have been much less, but it still meant leaving home, family, and community for lengthy stretches.15 Still, lengthy stints in the army led to increasingly well trained soldiers.
For centuries, in addition to age and physical fitness, the wealth of an individual Roman determined whether he would fight in the legion since each legionary was required to supply his own equipment. The late second century and early first century BC, however, brought a steady decrease and gradual elimination of property requirements for military service. Those the Romans termed capite censi, a term referring to the fact that the census only included them by a head count since they had no property, were normally not subject to conscription even as velites. Since at least the end of the third century, the Romans had levied capite censi to serve in the army during particularly grave military situations. Even so, the minimum property qualification for military service seems to have declined steadily over the second century. When exactly it was eliminated is unclear. In the late second century, when a Roman army had been unable to defeat rebels in Numidia (in north western Africa), the up-and-coming politician, Gaius Marius, was elected consul for 107 BC to conduct a swift campaign. One step he took in the name of expediency was to make an open call to capite censi, inviting them to volunteer for service. Apparently a number did. It is not clear that this was a permanent change in policy since, as was just noted, capite censi had been called upon to volunteer in crises for at least a century. What is clear is that by the time of Caesar’s campaigns in Gaul (58 BCE), the property qualification for service no longer existed.16
In addition to extended terms of service and the elimination of property qualifications, other important changes may have been introduced during the Roman politician Marius’ extraordinary series of military commands. While Marius was in North Africa campaigning against the Numidian King Jugurtha, a new military disaster erupted, this time near the Roman heartland. Two tribes, the Teutones and Cimbri made their way into southern Gaul in 105 BC, destroying a Roman army in the process. The Roman people, fearing for their safety if the tribes should penetrate Italy, elected Marius to be consul in 104 while he was still in Africa. Marius returned to Europe and assumed command over the Roman army that had been levied. They seem to have had some breathing space, however, as the Cimbri and Teutones migrated away for a time and did not return to southern Gaul for several years. During that respite, Marius may have made some significant changes in his army. ‘May have’ because it is not entirely clear from the patchy Roman sources for the period whether Marius instituted these reforms or whether they simply occurred around the time he held the consulship. It appears Marius trained his army and built the stamina of his soldiers through a series of public works projects. He also reformed the supply system of the army. Instead of relying upon servants to carry core rations, Marius required each of his soldiers to carry an emergency food supply and the basic kit to cook it. Each soldier also had to carry an entrenching tool for constructing camps. It became the practice for soldiers to carry these and other necessary items slung on a pole carried on their shoulders. These actions greatly reduced the length and size of the supply train and increased the general strength and stamina of the soldiers. Marius also, perhaps, made the eagle standard the most important standard for the legion, the heart and pride of the legion, as it were.17
Several more developments transformed the Roman manipular army into the cohort army of the late Republic and early empire. One development was the tactical reform of the infantry. The cohort of 480 soldiers came to supersede the 60 to 120 soldier maniples as the core tactical unit of the army. Parallel to this development was the change in legionary equipment. The light armed velites were phased out and the distinction between hastati, principes, and triarii eliminated. By the end of the process in the late second – early first century BC each legionary in the cohorts used pilum, gladius hispaniensis, and scutum, in addition to head and body armour. These arms were now supplied by the state.18 Additionally, though probably for different reasons, the equites, the Roman citizen cavalry, came to be replaced by cavalry levied from peoples allied to Rome.19 In most respects the citizen legionaries who fought the escaped slave Spartacus in the 70s probably were indistinguishable from those who fought the Gauls at Alesia two decades later, and from those a decade after that who engaged in the civil war that destroyed the Republic. They fought in cohorts composed of centuries each with relatively uniformly equipped comrades.
Spartacus
Stanley Kubrick and Kurt Douglas’ Spartacus is a Hollywood classic produced in 1959 and based on Howard Fast’s novel. It details the rise and ultimate destruction of thousands of slaves who rebelled against their Roman masters and formed an army that roamed Italy for several years in the late 70s. A Thracian gladiator named Spartacus led the rebel army to victory over several Roman forces. At last, the rebels were decisively defeated by an army under the command of Marcus Licinius Crassus.20 Thousands of survivors from the slave army were crucified along the side of the Appian Way, an object lesson in the dangers of defying Rome.
Unfortunately, Spartacus, in its current form has almost none of the original battle scenes that were shot, save only the final showdown with the army of Crassus. The rest was left on the cutting room floor. There were two concerns at work in the editing process. While concerns about the total length of the film were an issue, there was also a political controversy about how Spartacus’ victories should be interpreted. Filmed at a time when many Americans feared Communist plots, some felt emphasizing Spartacus’ victories would seem too much like endorsing class warfare and revolution.21 Most of the cut footage was subsequently lost. Though the 1991 Restored Criterion Collection version of the film includes some previously deleted footage, little of that has anything of note for our purposes. And so the only significant battle scene occurs toward the end of the film between Spartacus’ and Crassus’ forces.
The scene begins with the camera surveying the rebel army, positioned along a hilltop. The soldiers of Spartacus’ army wear a wide variety of arms and armour, reflecting their need to scavenge for equipment over the past few years. Several of the cut victories over Roman forces are alluded to, however, by the number of fighters who wear Roman armour. All seem to be armed with thrusting spears. The old and young, men and women, are all in arms. After surveying the slave army, the camera shifts to the forces of Crassus across the plain on a hillside marching forward in orderly lines. This is the cohort army of the late Republic in its glory. A shot of Crassus and two officers shows the men in leather muscled-armour with ornate golden decorations. Behind all three are the legionary standards. The camera shifts back to the slave army’s view and the articulation of the Roman army into cohorts can be seen in the distance. A shift to a position behind Crassus and his officers shows the legionaries marching by.
Ten thousand Spanish soldiers were recruited for this scene.22 The shot is magnificent insofar as in an age before CGI enhancements, it gives a hint of what it must have been like for an enemy of Rome to see such a large and extremely disciplined army. Their approach was captured on cameras about half a mile away that were set on 100ft high cranes.23 What the viewer sees is two legions, each of ten cohorts, each occupying four lines for battle: first two cohorts with a cohort sized gap in between each, then three cohorts, then two, then three more. As with the manipular army, the cohorts in a legion fought in formations that were designed to allow the units at the front lines of battle to be replaced as needed by fresh ones, and, as with the manipular army, we are not entirely clear how that worked.24 Still, this scene gets the flavour of that organization but clearly errs in the details. The actual formation of cohorts in the first legion filmed looks something like this.
Something’s not quite right, however. Most commonly the cohorts were arranged in the triplex acies, the threefold battle line in which, so far as is known, cohorts were distributed in staggered lines, first three then four then three; from this position they could transform into solid lines as needed.25 What is even odder is that official movie promotional material that discusses the cohort legion gets the pattern right with only three lines.26 The problems compound when the legions have finished their approach over the nearby hills. They halt. Slowly the first two cohorts widen their front to form one battle line like so:
Then the four cohorts on the wings of the formation move in to form a hollow rectangle:
Finally the front line, unsupported by the rear ranks, marches up the slope to attack, alone. It appears that all Spartacus has shown authentically in this scene is that the legionaries march in formation and those formations change shape. Beyond that, though, it is difficult to perceive a historical logic to this simulated formation change.
Nor is this the only significant problem with the battle scene. The legionaries’ equipment has a number of problems, starting with their weapons. Each wears a gladius at the hip but carries a spear of uniform width, clearly meant for thrusting and equally clearly not a pilum. There are also problems with the legionary shield, or scutum. Spartacus’ legionaries are equipped with flat, rectangular scuta, not a curve in sight. The legionary scutum, so far as we know, was always curved and did not take its rectangular curved form until the early Empire.27 Furthermore, instead of the central boss with a handgrip, the shields in Spartacus are attached by a strap at the elbow and a handgrip. Using these attachments places the forearm parallel with the long edge of the shield. Such a system not only causes the scutum to be worn differently, it requires the actor-fighters to hold the shield with the long edge parallel to the ground, not perpendicular as it was used historically, and therefore sacrificing much of its ability to shield the body.
The body armour is equally problematic. The soldiers are in standardized leather armour of some sort that is sculpted to look like musculature with leather shoulder guards. It may have been the case that officers in the Republic and Empire wore muscled-breastplates. However our best pictorial evidence, the first century altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus, suggests that the legionary of the late Republic wore a functional mail shirt that extended to the upper thigh, was belted around the waist, and had additional wide mail flaps to protect the shoulders. For a helmet, the soldiers wear something that approximates an Imperial-Gallic type helmet, a more ornate helmet than the Montefortino (see plate 15) that was not in use until the early empire.28 Leather pteruges, much like those of a Greek hoplite, cover the soldiers’ abdomens and thighs. Overall, their equipment is a mash-up of different types of armour from different periods.
The slave army waits atop the hill as the first line of legionaries approaches, four deep. When the enemy is close, the rebel army resorts to the tactic of rolling flaming logs down the hill. Each has two handlers holding a chain on each side to keep the log rolling. These crash into and burn unwary legionaries. It’s a seemingly clever ploy, but there simply is no historical evidence for the rebels using this tactic.29
Hot on the trail, as it were, of the flaming logs, the slave army charges collectively down the hill as a single mob. The men manoeuvring the flaming logs continue to chase the routing front line of Roman soldiers. The waves of slaves dispatch any legionaries left behind by the logs.
Then the slave army and legion engage in hand-to-hand combat. The Roman soldiers are in disarray, duelling with the slaves. Suddenly, Spartacus sees Roman reinforcements approaching in the distance, Pompey’s troops, arriving on his left flank. Spartacus then leads his cavalry into the melee at the bottom of the hill – not, it should be noted, a particularly good tactic when one is about to be outflanked.
The battle is nothing more than clumps of men fighting, each spaced out significantly from the others. Here and there are some spaces that might indicate formations of soldiers, but certainly not orderly ones. Overall, the scene suffers from a lack of any clear battle order or distinction between infantry and cavalry formations. For example, after Spartacus rides into the melee, a Roman rider and horse appear conveniently to duel him, though no Roman cavalry has been seen in the mix before this. It’s a problem of positioning. The Romans and Spartacus certainly had cavalry, but these were normally stationed along the wings, not mixed in the centre with the infantry. From the flanks they could harass and disrupt infantry formations. As the film has it, however, there are no formations once the fighting begins and combat consists of simply pouring more and more men, sometimes on horses, into the central brawl. By the time Pompey’s army arrives, they too are little more than a mob poured into the mix. This is not a Roman battle; it’s a street fight.
So how exactly did the battle transpire? Unfortunately, our evidence is very sparse for the exploits of Spartacus and his army. The ancient sources do note that he won a number of battles against the Romans. The final battle is not narrated in any detail, however. All that the sources seem to agree upon is that Spartacus died in the fighting.30 Spartacus’ first battles were against relatively untrained local militias, but he went on to defeat both consuls and their armies.31 This would be difficult to explain if he used the mob tactics depicted in the film. Far more reasonable to suppose that the slave-soldiers had adopted rudimentary infantry and cavalry formations sufficient to challenge the Romans: a simple mob would just have been cut to pieces.
Strictly speaking, then, as a representation of Roman battle the scene in Spartacus lacks authenticity. Beyond the fearsome survey of cohorts marching from a distance, there is little in this battle sequence that can help visualize a battlefield from the first century. One would take away an inaccurate view of equipment, formations, and tactics, almost everything for practical purposes. Unfortunately, more recent cinematic efforts to capitalize on the story of Spartacus have done little to improve upon the flawed vision of the Roman army presented in the 1959 film. USA Network Pictures released another Spartacus in 2004, this one made-for-cable. Though the scale of the final battle is much smaller than that achieved by Kubrick, at first glance it appears that the equipment is more authentic: the infantry’s scuta are curved at least. That impression vanishes upon closer scrutiny. The legionaries, as in the 1959 Spartacus, are equipped in segmented armour and helmets whose style belong over a century later in the early Empire. Well, sort of belong. While the legionaries in the later first century AD wore metal helmets and segmented armour, the film has constructed its legionaries’ armour wholly out of leather. Perhaps this is a cost saving measure for the film, but it adds insult to anachronism, as it were. For weapons, all the legionaries carry thrusting spears, decidedly not pila. There are gaps between the units, but it is not at all clear what these units represent: they are too small to be cohorts. Spartacus’ army, as in the Kubrick version, is a mass of people, a crowd more than an army.
Leather Armour
Despite its lack of historical authenticity, Roman soldiers with leather armour are something of a standard in many films. Historians Sekunda and Simkins explain how leather came on to the scene. ‘This misconception arose very largely from the apparently common Roman habit of painting on to sculptures parts that were tedious to portray with a chisel … By the time the artists of the Renaissance began to portray the classical warrior, most or all of the painted or plastered parts had weathered away, leaving the mail shirts looking smooth and very like leather jerkins.’ (Sekunda et al., Caesar’s Legions, 109) Leather, they note, was simply not strong enough to make effective body armour against cuts and thrusts, but the artistic impression crystallized in many films.
Crassus bellows, ‘For Rome … Time to die’ and Spartacus, on foot shouts, ‘Freedom!’ as his mob army surges forward. The Roman army has archer units on its flanks and they launch arrows at the slave army. Clad in purple with leather armour and helmets, they likely represent auxiliary units – units levied from foreign peoples subject to the Romans – but their equipment does not clearly distinguish them. The orderly Romans then countercharge and sacrifice their order, pulling apart in the rush to contact. The two armies, Roman and slave, intermingle into a mob. At this point the scene devolves, as did its predecessor, into a series of individual combats, a brawl. And while it makes sense that slaves might not fight exactly as Romans, there is still no reason for the Romans’ complete lack of order. Still, the lack of discipline that historically would have cost the Romans the battle does not harm them in the film. The legionaries slowly vanquish their foes. Spartacus’ trusted comrades die, one after the other. Meanwhile Spartacus slowly fights his way toward Crassus. Their gazes lock. Spartacus is coming to extract vengeance. The mass of legionaries in his way, however, overwhelm him and he falls melodramatically with his eyes skyward, a noble sacrifice. The legionaries pile around the spot where he fell, stabbing a now hidden Spartacus over and over.
The Many Lives of Spartacus
Spartacus is pretty much the perennially favourite subject for films set in the Roman world. In addition to the classic 1959 version and the version from USA films mentioned in the text, there are no fewer than six earlier renditions of Spartacus. Four alone were shot in the years 1909 to 1919!
Most recently Spartacus has been the heroic subject of a series on the STARZ network. So far the focus of the episodes has been on heroic duels and romance, however, not representations of battle.
To be fair, this depiction of the dramatic end of Spartacus is not wholly without the support of the ancient sources. Plutarch gives a similar account: ‘Pushing his way towards Crassus himself through many flying weapons and wounded men, [Spartacus] did not indeed reach him, but slew two centurions who fell upon him together. Finally, after his companions had taken to flight, he stood alone, surrounded by a multitude of foes, and was still defending himself when he was cut down.’32 Regardless of whether Spartacus met his end this way, the mechanics of the battle itself are far-fetched.
The Spartacus movies, whatever their merits as dramatic epics, are of little use for imagining the Roman army of the late Republic. When it comes to depictions of the Caesarian legion, HBO’s Rome series gets off to a far better start. Throughout the series the legionaries, indeed all the characters, are equipped with impressive attention to accuracy. The legionaries are equipped more or less uniformly. They wear Montefortino-style helmets of bronze (see plate 15 for an example), mail shirts, military tunics and sandals. They carry large oblong or rectangular curved shields and are armed with pila and short swords. Like most of the military props and scenery in the series, looking at these soldiers gives one a reasonably authentic glimpse into the past. There are only two scenes in the two-season series, however, that actually show the legionaries in battle to any significant extent. The very first episode takes us to Alesia in Gaul where Caesar crushed a Gallic rebellion in 52 BC. The sixth episode of the second season depicts elements of Philippi, the decisive battle in 42 BC between Caesar’s successors, Octavian and Marcus Antonius, and his assassins, Brutus and Cassius.
The scene at Alesia is dramatic without appearing over the top and has an air of authenticity. Grim, determined centurion Lucius Vorenus (Kevin McKidd) looks ahead and waits for the Gauls to arrive. Similar determination shows on the faces of the legionaries nearby who await his command. The centurion Vorenus commands stands in organized files four soldiers deep. From the hillock in front of them, a series of figures approach. They carry axes, swords, spears, clearly whatever was available to them. Some wear helmets; most have no protection other than their long-sleeve shirts and trousers. There are a number of them, but they advance as individuals rather than as units, a stark contrast to the orderly lines of the Romans. As the Gallic warriors approach, the centurion brings a whistle to his lips and blows a signal note. The legionaries, who have essentially been standing ready but at ease up to this point all lift their shields and hunker into fighting positions behind them, shield-side leg in front. Column by column, each soldier grabs hold of the soldier in front of him the better to preserve the orderly formation, an interesting interpretation though one that really cannot be substantiated by the evidence. They hold their ground, professionals all the way.
A spear-wielding Gaul closes with the centurion, still in formation beside his comrades. He stabs with a two-handed grip, but the centurion has anticipated the attack. He crouches into a ready pose, catches and pushes the spear up and away with his shield, and stabs the Gaul’s vulnerable leg with his sword. Centurion Vorenus has won this encounter and still holds the line. The camera pulls back to show legionaries in the second and third ranks standing firm, standing together. The front line soldiers all fight like Vorenus, as they have been trained. Indeed their fighting style recalls the admonition of the late imperial writer, Vegetius, who noted that Roman recruits were trained to stab with the sword, a more efficient and deadly attack than a swing.33 The Romans parry with their shields and stab. Above all, however, they stay in formation, disciplined and deadly. A particularly heroic Gaul leaps over the front line of shields but is cut down by Romans in the rear ranks. And still the Romans maintain their position against the accumulating mass of Gallic warriors hacking and slashing at their heavy shields.
The centurion blows his whistle again, and something incredible happens. The camera rises to look straight down at the legionaries, and we see the front rank of soldiers shuffle in profile to the back while the second man in each file occupies the front. In other words, the legionaries have rotated in fresh troops while maintaining the integrity of their battle line. The rhythm continues. Legionaries block or divert spears, axes, swords, and return with a thrust at their attackers. Again a whistle blow and fresh troops rotate to the front. This time legionary Titus Pullo (Ray Stevenson), another series protagonist, comes to the front. Both strong of limb and headstrong, Pullo uses his scutum as a weapon, slamming into a kneeling enemy, driving another back. Unlike his better reserved comrades, however Pullo moves out in front of his line and wades into the mass of Gauls, parting them with his scutum as he trades blows with his enemies. Centurion Vorenus stabs another enemy and reprimands his subordinate for his unsanctioned progress. ‘Pullo, formation,’ he calls. Pullo will not or cannot hear and continues his individual attack on the Gauls. ‘Pullo, single formation!’ Vorenus growls with even more conviction, but Pullo fights on as before. Unwilling to sacrifice the integrity of his formation for this imbecile, he gives another order: ‘Shields on me!’ and the front rank moves forward on Vorenus’ command. As the front line advances, it loses the morale and physical support of its second line and some of its integrity, and a series of individual duels erupt. Vorenus’ helmet is knocked from his head, and he dispatches the assailant. Now in reach of Pullo, he grabs the wilful legionary by his shoulder straps and orders again, ‘Get back in formation, you drunken fool!’ Pullo takes a swing at Vorenus; Vorenus floors Pullo with his shield. A pair of legionaries drag Pullo to the rear. Vorenus calls out, ‘Re-form!’ and blows his whistle again.
This has all the makings of a military morality tale: obedient and disciplined is how a legionary must be. Indeed Vorenus turns the scene into an object lesson for the legion. The scene shifts to Caesar’s camp. The battle has been won, but Pullo is chained to posts and whipped as Vorenus lectures to watching soldiers: ‘Legionary Titus Pullo is a hero of the Thirteenth Legion. But look at him now. Justice knows every man’s number. He has committed a terrible sacrilege. And he will pay for it with his life.’ As Vorenus continues the camera shifts here and there showing the mostly uncomfortable faces of legionaries. ‘As will any man here, who breaks the law. Brawlers and drunkards will be flogged. Thieves will be strangled. Deserters will be crucified.’ Pullo is untied and dragged off.
How does this fare as a model of battle at the very end of the Republic? To start, some important historical details are lost in Rome’s depiction of Alesia. One of the most important is the type of battle depicted between Caesar’s soldiers and the Gauls at Alesia. The final battle is depicted as set in the forest, army against army. Historically, Alesia was a town where Vercingetorix and his Gallic armies were trapped and besieged by Caesar’s legions. The Roman army made an impressive set of siege-works, a wall and ditch to hem in the Gauls at Alesia, and a larger fortification around that so that the Roman besiegers could defend themselves against any Gallic forces that hoped to relieve the besieged. Certainly they had to defend their fortifications, but they did not engage in any normal field battles. The scene of the century in action misrepresents the kind of actions occurring at Alesia.34
A second inaccuracy is the portrayal of the protagonists. There really were a Titus Pullio and Lucius Varenus; Rome has simply changed the names ever so slightly. The story Caesar tells of them is different, but one no less impressive in its display of Roman courage. In Caesar’s commentary on the Gallic Wars, these two soldiers are both centurions as it happens, both distinguished for their courage, and both competing to be promoted to the highest rank of centurion. The tribe of the Nervi attacked the winter quarters of one of Caesar’s legions, giving the two another opportunity to compete in valour. This is the account Caesar gives:
When the fight was going on most vigorously before the fortifications, Pullio, one of them, says, ‘Why do you hesitate, Varenus? What [better] opportunity of signalizing your valour do you seek? This very day shall decide our disputes.’ When he had uttered these words, he proceeds beyond the fortifications, and rushes on that part of the enemy which appeared the thickest. Nor does Varenus remain within the rampart, but respecting the high opinion of all, follows close after. Then, when an inconsiderable space intervened, Pullio throws his javelin at the enemy, and pierces one of the multitude who was running up, and while the latter was wounded and slain, the enemy cover him with their shields, and all throw their weapons at the other and afford him no opportunity of retreating. The shield of Pullio is pierced and a javelin is caught in his belt. This circumstance turns aside his scabbard and obstructs his right hand when attempting to draw his sword: the enemy crowd around him when [thus] hampered. His rival runs up to him and aids him in this emergency. Immediately the whole host turn from Pullio to him, supposing the other to be pierced through by the javelin. Varenus rushes on briskly with his sword and carries on the combat hand to hand, and having slain one man, for a short time drove back the rest: while he urges on too eagerly, slipping into a hollow, he fell. To him, in his turn, when surrounded, Pullio brings relief; and both having slain a great number, retreat into the fortifications amidst the highest applause. Fortune so dealt with both in this rivalry and conflict, that the one competitor was a helper and a safeguard to the other, nor could it be determined which of the two appeared worthy of being preferred to the other.35
The contrast between the disciplined Vorenus and the brave but insubordinate Pullio did not exist for Caesar. Rather both centurions found an opportunity for bravery that apparently met with the satisfaction not only of the surrounding soldiers but of Caesar himself who included this episode in his narrative.
Leaving aside these changes to the historical narrative, how does this recreation of legionaries fighting Gauls fare? Again, the legionary equipment is impeccably modelled. The legionaries have chain mail shirts with the extra shoulder protection. They wear helmets of the Montefortino type, again to be expected from Roman soldiers of this period. Their shields are rectangular and curved, reasonably consistent with what is known of the very late Republic. Strictly speaking curved rectangular shields were not definitively in use for another forty years, but it is not known when they began to be adopted.36 They have swords that are short, powerful weapons made for thrusting. Visually, with one exception that will be dealt with shortly, they are highly authentic. They stand out in comparison to the strange varieties of leather armour found in the Spartacus films.
The depiction of the Gauls is, however, a bit stereotyped. The Gallic warriors are depicted as ill-armed, and ill-organized, the classic barbarian mob. Caesar himself in his account of the Gallic wars, describes a different set of foes. Vercingetorix is presented as using mixed unit tactics – cavalry and light infantry, cavalry and archers – making sound strategic decisions, and generally ably leading the Gauls. Caesar writes with respect about the Gallic armies, refers even to some forming phalanxes.37 It is reasonable to suppose the Gauls lacked the depth of organization and training possessed by Roman legionaries, now veterans after years of constant war, but this does not mean that they cast themselves against their enemy without formation or plan.
Other than the less plausible arrangements of the Gallic infantry, the depiction of the combat lacks one important detail: the pila volley. The legionaries simply wait for the Gauls to close to sword range. An initial pila volley, however, seems to have been the standard way for Caesar’s soldiers – and perhaps all Roman soldiers of the period – to demoralize and injure their enemies before closing to short-sword range.38 This particular passage from Caesar’s memoirs describes the damage the pila could do:
[Caesar’s] soldiers, hurling their [pila] from the higher ground, easily broke the enemy’s phalanx. That being dispersed, they made a charge on them with drawn swords. It was a great hindrance to the Gauls in fighting, that, when several of their bucklers had been by one stroke of the (Roman) javelins pierced through and pinned fast together, as the point of the iron had bent itself, they could neither pluck it out, nor, with their left hand entangled, fight with sufficient ease; so that many, after having long tossed their arm about, chose rather to cast away the buckler from their hand, and to fight with their person unprotected. At length, worn out with wounds, they began to give way.39
This is one of several references to an initial pila volley, and elsewhere Caesar writes about these episodes as if they were standard procedure.40 Indeed Caesar takes care to mention one occasion where the legionaries were too close to their enemies to throw pila and had to advance with swords only.41 The legionaries under Vorenus’ command, however, do not throw their pila at the Gauls; indeed in this first episode encounter they do not even carry pila.
What this cinematic vision captures that is so very striking, however, is a model of how the legion preserved its all-important formations, a view of the mechanics in action. We have seen how ancient sources described the manipular and cohort armies as having multiple lines of units that could relieve those in the front line. But these were systems for replacing one unit with another, not individual soldiers. Rome offers a suggestion of how, at the level of a century, fresh soldiers would replace tired ones within the same unit and maintain their formation. The soldiers in each rear rank hold on to the hauberk of the man directly in front of them. At regular intervals the centurion sounds his whistle. Upon the signal, each man fighting in the front rank shuffles sideways back through the narrow spaces between the columns while the next in line takes his place at the front. The transition is seamless as depicted in the film, a tactic that could only have been executed by highly drilled troops, but then, that is exactly what Caesar’s legionaries were at this point.
A few historians have suggested that the legions employed a system like this, in which fresh troops within a unit replaced fatigued ones at the front.42 In part this system is designed to resolve the issue of why infantry units were normally deployed several lines deep. Others have countered that the primary purpose of having multiple lines of men in a unit after the first is to provide moral support to the front row.43 Clearly these possibilities are not mutually exclusive: one can readily imagine that the back rows provided both moral support and fresh soldiers should those in the front become incapacitated by wounds or exhaustion. Still there is no evidence that the Roman legionaries of Caesar’s day, or any other day, rotated men in and out of a unit’s front line in so regular a fashion as depicted by Rome. One can imagine a number of reasons why not. First of all, the condition of each soldier in the front line of a unit must have varied widely moment to moment; rotating all soldiers out after a half minute would make little sense if some front rankers were still fresh and ready to go. Secondly a line of soldiers each holding the belt of the one in front would restrict the freedom of movement of the front soldiers, perhaps dangerously so. On the other hand, it is reasonable to suppose a fresh second ranker would, if possible, relieve an exhausted or injured file leader. And so it may be that a more informal individual system was used that partially resembled that shown in Rome, but it is unlikely the system as depicted was put into place. In most respects, then, the scene of the century engaged at Alesia is noteworthy in its representation of battle mechanics, but it emphasizes this untestified tactic. It is one thing to offer a cinematic interpretation of how cohorts cycled in and out of battle. It is quite another to invent a systemized routine of whistle blowing and the rotation of the front line in a unit.
Rome: The Battle of Philippi
Following hot on the heels of Caesar’s conquest of Gaul, the very Republic itself collapsed, and Rome chronicles this collapse through the eyes of its chosen characters. Caesar and his enemies in the senate, the most powerful of whom was Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, Pompey as moderns call him, reached a level of political hostility that could only be resolved, they believed, through war. Caesar made the decision to march against his enemies in Rome at the beginning of 49 BC. By the end of the next year he had decisively defeated his enemies in battles ranging from Macedonia and Spain, to Africa. Or at least he seems to have thought so. At Rome Caesar had himself declared dictator first for five years and later, for life. Soon after Caesar received this unprecedented power of permanent dictator, some senators came to the conclusion that murder was the only way to remove Caesar and restore the normal offices of the Republic. And so that fateful day, the ides of March 44 BC, Gaius Cassius Longinus, Marcus Junius Brutus, and a number of other conspirators surrounded Caesar when he entered the senate and stabbed him – twenty-three times no less.44
When Caesar died, the Republic did not spring back into operation as the conspirators seemed to have hoped it would. Rather a handful of powerful Romans began to joust politically to take the dominant place that Caesar had held in the past five years. Caesar’s lieutenant, Antony, and his posthumously adopted teenage son, Octavian, both claimed the right to succeed to Caesar’s position. Both gathered armies of veterans and were prepared to battle to a decision. The veteran soldiers, however, had once fought together under Caesar’s command and were not willing to spill one another’s blood to settle a political dispute between Caesar’s successors. And so Octavian and Antony were forced, temporarily, to make a pact. Once they did, they set their sights on their remaining rivals, Cassius and Brutus. These assassins, or liberators as they preferred to term it, fled Italy in 44 BC and travelled to the Greek east, gathering money and supporters. Octavian had the senate, packed with supporters, declare Cassius and Brutus to be outlaws for murdering Caesar. By the end of 42 BC Octavian and Antony had crossed with their armies to Macedonia and found Cassius and Brutus outside the city of Philippi.
The scene of Philippi expands dramatically on the model of combat shown at Alesia. Now audiences are treated to a view of a full battle, ostensibly involving tens of thousands of Roman soldiers. The camera looks down from a high angle panning perpendicularly across the multitude of legions; this battle in a hot and dry plain will mean the death of thousands of Romans. The enemy today is no foreign foe; Roman will kill Roman to decide who will determine the empire’s destiny: Antonius and Octavian or Brutus and Cassius. A low angle close-up of the liberators’ legionaries shows each standing at the ready, scutum resting on the ground and hands on their swords. Then the camera runs from the front to the back of the ranks where Brutus and Cassius sit atop their horses in full gear, open faced helmets with plumes and muscled breastplates. The two engage in trivially aristocratic banter, a decision of the writers, perhaps, to make them appear more out of touch with realities.
Then the camera switches to Antony and Octavian’s legions. The soldiers are equipped just as their foes, expressions on faces just as grave. Shifting to Antonius and Octavian the camera shows Antonius quip to his much younger partner, ‘If you need to urinate, now would be the time.’ Octavian, stony-faced, assures him he does not. ‘You sure?’ spars Antonius. ‘I’m fine, thank you’, Octavian replies, barely holding his anger in check at this jest. Unable to resist, Antonius asks one last time, then begins the battle with a wave of his arm, the sign for a subordinate to yell, ‘ADVANCE!’ Starting with the front ranks, the army moves forward in unison, steps measured, each soldier’s pilum resting on his shoulder and scutum hanging low to his side.
After another vacuously polite exchange between the liberators about who should get the honour to give the order, Cassius commands the advance. Close-ups of legs and feet show the slow orderly cadence of the legionaries. The camera pulls back to a position between the closing armies, whose battle lines are so long that they fade away into the distance. Then the camera slowly closes to show the clash of the lines. Shield strikes shield; a few legionaries grab their scutum with both hands and jab it forward at their foes – one may well wonder what these Romans had done with their swords. The men remain in formation except for a bit of inevitable confusion at the front. As a sequence for a developing battle, this part of the scene is effective. Things start to get appropriately jumbled from here as one would expect in battle. The camera dances about. Here, a second ranker holds on to the file leader’s sword belt to maintain the formation. There, a pilum goes straight through a shield into a man’s face. If there is any way to determine which army is which, it is mostly lost on the viewer. A centurion blows a whistle and a high shot shows the rotation of ranks in what must be the conspirators’ army, judging from the colour of the standard. The view from above reveals that each legionary in a file holds on to the back of the legionary in front of him to maintain the formation. Despite the order of the legionaries, the killing zone is chaotic. A downed soldier is slaughtered. Another uses his low position to stab up and into his foe. Blood flows everywhere: swords pierce mail and bite deep: here into a shoulder, there into the back of a foe. Time passes and the shot dissolves into a position high and to the rear of one army. The impression is of organized chaos.
The camera shifts to Antonius, eyeing the battle with the interest of a football fan, and picking at a loaf of bread. Octavian asks what is happening in the battle and Antonius flippantly returns, ‘No idea.’ He casts his bread aside nonchalantly, draws his sword and speaks to the riders beside him. ‘On my command, follow me.’ Octavian asks where he is going, and Antonius replies, ‘when in doubt …. ATTACK!’ The order given, he and his squad of cavalry ride off. The audience does not see them again. The cavalry’s role in this battle is simply ignored.
Meanwhile the cohesion of both armies’ front ranks is fast dissolving and individuals are duelling. Fresh soldiers, when they arrive, however, restore order to the front and drive soldiers on the other side to retreat. A messenger tells Cassius that Antonius’ troops have broken the right side of their line. Cassius moves forward with a unit of foot soldiers. Arrows fly into their midst and he orders the testudo to be formed. The soldiers kneel and form a shield wall in front of them and a shield roof overhead. A shot of the huddled soldiers under shields shows arrows puncturing the shields, one going through the metal boss and through its bearer’s wrist, which was highly unlikely historically. Another receives an arrow in the cheek. Most are unharmed. When the sound of the arrows stops, Cassius orders his unit to reform and move forward. He is with them every step of the way. The legionaries close and Cassius is cut down almost immediately. A new shot shows clouds and smoke. Cassius is brought by stretcher to Brutus, coughing, blood staining his tunic. Brutus watches and sees the rout, his soldiers fleeing the field. When he looks again, Cassius is dead. Staring ahead, Brutus sees the enemy soldiers marching toward him in organized ranks. He comes to a decision. He looks at the officers and soldiers around him. ‘It has been an honour and a pleasure leading you,’ he says, ‘and I am sorry we could not do better. But you must look to yourselves now. Save your skins.’ Brutus asks his trusted lieutenant to say something ‘suitable’ to his mother. With that he takes a sword from a nearby centurion, looks again at the advancing forces, his own vanished. He walks toward the enemy, cutting the straps of his breastplate and discarding the armour as he walks. His first attempt to provoke the victorious soldiers is unsuccessful but soon he inflicts a grievous leg wound on one and a series of men pierce Brutus with their swords, some in the front, others from behind. The director clearly hopes to invoke the spectre of Julius Caesar’s murder, for the soldiers continue to stab Brutus long after he is done for and falls to the ground.
As with the depiction of fighting at Alesia in the first season, this battle of Philippi plays fast and loose with the actual events. There were actually two battles at Philippi between Brutus and Cassius, and Antony and Octavian. Several ancient sources recount the battles, and while they have their differences, their similarities are sufficient to reconstruct a historical outline of events. On the first day of battle, Octavian was sick and may well have missed the battle.45 On that first day Brutus, whose forces occupied the left wing of the line, drove off Octavian’s legionaries and managed to plunder his and Antony’s base camp. On the right, however, Cassius’ troops were soundly defeated by Antony’s men. Cassius, unaware of Brutus’ victory and despairing because of his own defeat, killed himself. Brutus, likely very demoralized by his comrade’s premature death, refused to give battle for a number of days, instead maintaining his fortified position on a hill. Several days later, probably due to the plunging morale of his soldiers, Brutus committed to a second battle at Philippi. Octavian and Antony’s forces routed those of Brutus. He, in despair, followed Cassius’ in death, ending his own life.46 Rome selects elements from this narrative and conflates them into something very different from the ancient testimony. In Rome there will be only one battle. Cassius is reluctant to commit to battle, but Brutus insists on it. The two command together from the centre against Octavian and Antony who also command together. Cassius’ forces are routed first and Cassius is mortally wounded attempting to shore up the flank. He is carried back to Brutus who watches him die, sees that the entire army has been scattered and provokes the approaching enemy legionaries to kill him.
Once again, though, there is more to an authentic depiction of battle than the historical context, though that is certainly not insignificant. How effectively does the battle scene at Philippi represent the mechanics of the Caesarian legions at war? The legionaries, as at Alesia, maintain their formations as they approach, marching in unison column by column, row by row, and this is authentic enough. When the camera captures both battle lines fading into the distance, the soldiers are grouped in distinct units. Each unit has a depth of four soldiers and the battle line appears to be four or five units deep. This is deeper than the standard triplex acies, but not out of the realm of the possible when such large armies clashed.
The pila volleys have been ignored again, however, the soldiers immediately closing to short sword range instead. Right before the clash, the order of the infantry degrades just a bit as each soldier chooses when to charge the remaining few feet to his enemy. This is a good take on human behaviour in battle – despite their high discipline, they are men, not machines. Shields are held up high and legionaries mostly stab economically with swords held in overhand grips, continuing to practise the doctrine to thrust rather than to cut.47 The confusion in battle is represented through the jumping camera. A centurion drops to his knees, dead. Another centurion looks around quickly, then blows his whistle. His soldiers follow their training and relieve the first line fighters through the rotation system demonstrated at the battle of Alesia, an unfortunate ripple in an otherwise authentic looking battle scene. Soldiers continue to stab at each other in the front lines and shove with their shields. The rear ranks continue to hold on to their comrades in front, clinging to keep formation. In this close-up, however, there are six ranks of soldiers each holding on the man in front and it is not clear how the original formation morphed into this.
There is space at the front as soldiers die, enough for one man to stab a grounded enemy then lose his hand at the forearm in turn. Another grounded soldier stabs his enemy’s groin. A dramatic touch to the brutality: a wounded soldier with no helmet stares around in a daze at the slaughter. He is quickly dispatched with a stab to the back. It is safe to say that the battle line in this section has disintegrated to a fair extent, the soldiers of each side intermingling and killing. When the camera pulls back and up, one can still see the remnants of a formation – the soldiers are not simply off on their own duelling – but the strains of battle have clearly caused the orderly formations in the killing zone at the front to dissolve.
Of the many noises emanating from the battlefield, however, one is a bit puzzling. The neighing and galloping of horses can clearly be heard, but there are no depictions of cavalry. Indeed Antony rides in leading a cavalry charge, but we never see the results. This is not surprising, however, given the series’ choice to focus on the small unit’s experience in battle, not the experience of the whole or the use of strategy. It is also arguably more expensive and difficult to capture believable shots of cavalry in action, and requires the use of trained horses and riders.
The Middle and Late Republics are still wide open for serious cinematic treatments of battle. Despite the array of adventure films set in the period, HBO’s Rome series shoulders the burden single-handedly of depicting battles, and here only for the very end of the Republic. At the level of the century, Rome provides a fair glimpse into the brutal business of fighting, the stab and block of sword and shield, the generation of entropy. There are problems: the cavalry are ignored and no serious treatment is given to the positioning of armies. Still the series does an admirable job with what it does show. Unfortunately for Roman history buffs, the series ended with the second season and so ended the possibility to see more battles during the years in which Augustus came to power. For the period of the Roman Empire, however, the field of films spreads somewhat more widely and it is to the Empire we now turn.