Monogram on tetradrachms of Emperor Carinus (283–284) from Alexandria in Egypt.
When there are too many coincidences, that aint no coincidence.
Yogi Berra
History too often is the propaganda of icons of power. How can we ever know the thoughts of ordinary people, the unsung stuff of human nature, lives long forgotten? One way is to read their personal letters.
The first clue that the Theban Legion was a reality emerged in scanning translations of papyri in Greek, unearthed in Egypt by village boys hired by an archaeologist to scour an ancient rubbish dump.1 His primary motive at the time was to keep them from mischief at his archaeological diggings. These papyri were found at Oxyrynchus, once the Roman headquarters of Egypt’s Thebaid district. They were direct sampling of everyday concerns to be placed against the official version of things by censored Roman historians. To read them was to eavesdrop across centuries.
Bills of payment to a mouse-catcher, a reward offered for a runaway slave, shopping lists, loans usually at 12 to 15 per cent interest, marriage contracts threatening loss of the dowry if the bride is mistreated – the papyri weave the tapestry of existence on the Roman Nile.
Questions to a fortune teller ask, ‘Am I being poisoned?’ ‘Will I get a furlough?’ ‘Should I agree to the contract?’ ‘Will I be sold?’ ‘Am I to become a beggar?’
A husband writes to his absent wife that he mourns for her ‘weeping by night and lamenting by day’. Spouses usually addressed one another as ‘my master’ or ‘mistress’, ‘lord’ or ‘lady’, or more typically, ‘brother’ or ‘sister’. Along the Nile, to keep land legally in the family it was not unusual for men to marry their sisters. A wife urges her voyaging husband to return, pleading that a neighbour ‘has made a prostitute of me’. A husband on a trip instructs his pregnant wife to abandon her expected infant if a girl. ‘How can I forget thee?’ he adds.
Another revelation is the apprentice papers for a boy whose mother is not yet of legal adult age. A schoolboy’s note tells his father that he has an excellent teacher who has stopped instructing him because he is unpaid. There is no doubt who suggested the letter. Wills dividing slaves among heirs are commonplace. Almost all slaves in Egypt were household servants.
A young woman visiting Syria says that her mother has died on the journey. ‘I am an orphan alone in a strange land.’ She begs her kin to come to her. Presumably, as a woman she feared to return alone.
Greek was the international language of the East, where it was used routinely by the Roman army. The papyri were usually dictated to a scribe who wrote for a fee.
The importance of the army in Egypt is manifest in the papyri. A civilian intercedes with an officer to be lenient to a soldier who has been AWOL, promising not to intercede again. There are many complaints to officers against their men. The moonlit shearing of sheep to sell the wool, unpaid pub bills and loitering outside the women’s public baths are parts of the picture. That the writers expect justice and do not fear to put their names to charges on paper posits that justice was possible.
Only a military court could judge a Roman soldier.2 In the more than sixty army posts in Egypt, isolation and efficiency gave army officers the status of civilian judges. The army at least had discipline and a clear chain of command. Civil officials too often were like one whom a papyrus letter warns of making the rounds and likely to drink the village dry.
The Roman emperor owned virtually all land in Egypt. The land was rented at reasonable rates as innumerable small farms, in sharp contrast to the plantations leased in huge sections elsewhere in the Empire. Many soldiers in Egypt rented farms by deduction from their pay. They shared peasant interests and attitudes, and had a loyalty to those dependent upon them, unlike soldiers in some provinces – a thuggish race apart, dreaded more than the barbarians. While the majority of the population were Copts, speaking the language of the pharaohs before them, Greeks dominated the economy. The Greeks had conquered all the Middle East five centuries earlier, but their practice of infanticide (especially of females), a practice Egyptian morality rejected, undermined their numbers and political rule.3
Forbidden to travel to any other province, the city and seaport of Alexandria legally a separate province, frustrated by hard labour, poverty, monotony and often incestuous village relationships, and smouldering under oppressions against which they were powerless, the Copts could erupt in terrible violence. Exiled to Egypt, the satirist Juvenal related that on one occasion two villages warred in a feud provoked by the killing of a sacred crocodile, a patron deity. A man was supposedly murdered and cannibalized as a result.4
The Greeks, in order to unify the region, had invented a new deity, Serapis, the father of the gods, a belief tending towards monotheism.5 Local temples with their tax and rental revenues were incorporated into the governmental cult. The creed of Serapis was deliberately kept free of myth or doctrine, like that of Jupiter-Highest-and-Best. The temples provided schooling and other social services at a moderate cost. An official religion emphasizing harmony with the state, the worship of Serapis was, nevertheless, genuinely popular, unlike the imperial cult of the Roman gods.
Christianity was expanding rapidly. Serapis tended to be viewed as identical with God the Father. The oldest known fragment of a gospel is Rylands Papyrus 457, dating from about the year 130, found in the Fayoum, west of the Nile delta. By the late third century there were seventy-two communities with bishops in Egypt. The word Copt presently refers to Egypt’s Christian minority.
The troops in Egypt were in ancestry from the rest of the Empire, although intermarriage with Copts was usual. One legion, II Traiana, guarded the Nile.6 The unnumbered Legio Julia Alexandriana was stationed in Alexandria. The other half of the garrisons comprised auxiliary cohorts or cavalry in five hundred or one thousand men complements. In Bar Kochba’s revolt, a legion of Greco- Copts, the III Deotariana, had been annihilated. Egyptian troops sent to Armenia in 195 had mutinied.7 Thereafter, few soldiers from Egypt served anywhere beyond the Nile Valley.
The Empire was faced with a dwindling pool of army recruits. The population was falling, with the class of free citizens dwindling even more rapidly, and fewer willing to volunteer. Slaves, criminals, gladiators, welfarerecipients and serfs were ineligible, considered incapable of good discipline.
Egyptians under Roman rule paid exorbitant taxes, chiefly in grains for export. Farm hands could be temporarily drafted to work on state land. The citizens of towns were exempt from many of these duties, but required to take turns as tax collectors. Collateral for the collection assessment was their confiscated property.8 As the ruling class dwindled, the burden upon it crushingly increased,9 motivating many to flee their districts.10
An edict of Caracalla (r. 211–217) in response11 had expanded the number of citizens12 obliged to do liturgy by granting citizenship to the Greek peregrini, 13 legally resident aliens, dominating most towns.
The overwhelming majority of the populace, the Copts, remained dediticii,14 legally prisoners of war, bound to the land with few rights. Most were illiterate and spoke only Coptic.
The papyri reveal widespread abandonment of farms and villages. Plague, revolts and desertion reduced numbers. Reduction of land tax assessments did not keep pace with the lowered crop yields that resulted from neglect of the irrigation system. Emperor Probus, in reaction, put the army to work dredging badly silted irrigation canals.15
The dwindling population of the Thebaid had incurred invasion by its barbarian neighbours, the Blemmyes, the bronzed ancestors of the Beja and Somali.16 Aided by disaffected townspeople, they overran much of the upper Nile Valley until Probus’ forces restored Roman rule.17
Worsening the Thebaid’s vulnerability, its southern frontier south of Syene had been virtually abandoned for a generation. Archaeology reveals its forts to be unoccupied in the period.18 Encroaching cliffs narrowed the arable lands of the region, which yielded little in taxation.
It was recognized that only a transformation in policy could prevent further invasions. The Nobatae, a negro people that in earlier ages were called Medjay, from Kharga Oasis, some 150 miles due west of Thebes, were invited to resettle in the region.19 Medjay, originally, was the name of a tribe, but having provided soldiers, police and guards for the pharaohs for long ages, the word came to mean ‘a soldier’. The Kharga depression extended for a hundred miles, its water table creating many habitable areas. Paid subsidies by Rome, the Nobatae were neither dediticii nor citizens. Presumably, they were gentili, tribes friendly to Rome that were brought into the Empire and as recruits promoted to peregrini, a status according with facts to be noted later in the Theban Legion’s story.
Young Nobatae and people from other oases west of the Nile Valley provided a new source of manpower for the depleted army. They proved to be reliable allies for almost a century. Their non-Roman tribal origins explains the black African predominance in the tradition of the Legion. Only citizens were allowed in the legions.20 Peregrini, however, could join the grain fleet, Legio Julia Alexandrina.21 The Theban Legion was perhaps intended not as an infantry, but a fleet marine unit.
The present research into the Theban Legion began in browsing through the Oxyrynchus papyri. Perusing the papyri, one in particular caught attention. It was dated about the time the Theban Legion, if it existed, must have left Egypt. It was a receipt penned by a scribe at Panopolis (Akhmim) for bread delivered to the army as shipping-out rations. The requisition dates 13 January 282 and the receipt, dated 21 May 284, states: ‘…delivered at Panopolis in obedience to the order of his excellency … to the mobilized soldiers and sailors thirty-eight thousand four hundred and ninety-six modii of bread, total 38,496.’22 Sixty modii, approximately thirty bushels, was the yearly Roman grain ration for a soldier.23 For a person relying on no other food, a pound and a half of grain a day is ample ration. A Roman soldier’s daily ration was some 3,000 calories.
This, therefore, was an order for some 240,000 daily rations. Bread and hard biscuit, usually of barley, was only disbursed to soldiers going overseas or actively campaigning. The receipt was for enough rations for some 6,000 men, to last a month or more.
Egyptians paid their taxes not in the tetradrachms of the Alexandrian mint but in grain. The government would not accept its own local currency as tax payment. Paper money did not exist. Coins were valued for the quality of their metal. Alexandrian tetradrachms were a cheap alloy of bronze and lead.
The grain demanded in the papyrus was not the normal tax but an addition to it, a portent of things to come. Since the emperor directly owned Egypt’s land, unlike that of other provinces, new policies began in Egypt before being attempted elsewhere.
Another papyrus of 284 from the town of Oxyrynchus mentions some of the same officials as the Panopolis receipt. It asks for a special meeting to get supplies immediately aboard the ships at dockside awaiting troops.24 Neither document mentions any specific unit.
The author as a community college history teacher had as one of his students a professional ancient coin dealer. In conversations with this student, the idea arose that Roman coins might provide objective non-Christian evidence of the Theban Legion. Obtaining a summer grant for study from the Foundation for the Humanities, the coinage of Roman Egypt became the focus of study.
Egypt’s coinage denomination was quite unlike that of the rest of the Roman world, and quite inferior, lead substituting for the silver used elsewhere in coinage. The intent was to force anyone leaving Egypt to exchange money lest it be useless outside of Egypt, in effect a tax. Any substantial quantity of Egyptian money outside of Egypt would be an anomaly, something demanding an explanation.
The chief mint in Egypt was that of Alexandria with another at Oxyrynchus, their issues chiefly tetradrachms equal in value to the silver denarius typical elsewhere in the Empire, the day’s wages of a semi-skilled worker.
The Alexandrian year began on 30 August. The papyrus receipt from Oxyrynchus in the Thebaid had been officially audited 23 May 8/284 to 9/285, having been written two years earlier.
Roman money bore the portrait of the ruler at the time on one side and a motif on the other. Among Egypt’s Alexandrian tetradrachms from 30 August 282 to 30 August 284, the most common motif is that of an eagle standing between cloth banners, vexilla.25 This appeared only in certain years, Roman coins well catalogued by centuries of scholars.
The eagle symbolized the legions of Rome. The cloth banner was carried by vexillationes, troop detachments serving away from their home legion or to join a new legion in formative stage.
The meaning of these symbols was well accepted.
Could these coins tell us something important in our quest? The eagle between banners motif appeared from time to time elsewhere in the Empire on denominations other than tetradrachms.
A hypothesis emerged that might explain things, an idea that could be objectively proven or disproven.
A list of every known example of the eagle between banners on Roman coins from throughout the Empire across three centuries was undertaken, in order to compare it with the hunch, the hypothesis, that it appeared only when and where a new legion was being recruited.
Roman historians and inscriptions on stone are the sources for the dates of the inaugurations of new legions.
The motif never appears on the coinage of the twelve emperors who did not create new legions.
Thirty-six matches in time and place of the recruitment of new legions speak for themselves to reinforce the evidence.26
Another explanation for the papyrus citing the embarking troops can be posited. Legio II Traiana, long Egypt’s only legion, was shipping out to Spain and North Africa under the same rulers as those issuing the eagle between banners, the Emperor Carus and his sons, Carinius and Numerian.27 Alexandrian tetradrachms of the year beginning 30 August 284 unmistakably bear that legion’s name.28
None of the coins bearing the name of Legio II Traiana bear the motif of an eagle between banners. The papyrus receipt for bread is dated the sixth Alexandrian year of Emperor Probus, 21 May 284. The troops mobilized from the Thebaid district cited in the papyri had sailed away earlier than Legio II Traiana’s embarkation.
To utilize the administration of II Traiana in order to organize the new unit was practical. Recruiting thousands of young men while adding a new tax to a people already sorely exploited in the absence of the legion that had long preserved order could have been an invitation to revolt.
The eagle between banners coins of the year of the shipping-out rations receipt in many cases bear a Greek letter on each banner, a circle on the left and dot on the right, the usual form for omega omicron, the first letters of Oxyrynchus. This suggests that they were issued by an army mint in that city of the Thebaid and not in Alexandria.29
Evidently, a Theban Legion had existed but was the legend about it true?
Research revealed that the 1949 collapse of the sheer cliff alongside the church at St Maurice-en-Valais in Switzerland occasioned major renovations. Digging in its foundations, a chamber hidden for centuries was discovered, containing funeral cremation urns. The walls were painted in red and yellow lozenges, the coat of arms of the Egyptian Thebaid.
To discover the life of a little known individual of many centuries ago is obviously difficult, but a legion of 6,000 men is more likely to have left traces. To turn to Christian sources could be held to be prejudicial. Non-Christian and, especially, official Roman governmental sources were to be preferred. Hopefully, mention of the Theban Legion could be found.
This led to an examination of inscriptions catalogued from more than 2,000 Roman legionary gravestones. These recorded the three names that every Roman citizen possessed, age at death and every army unit of service career. Hopefully, mention of a Theban Legion would be found.
It proved to be a blind alley, revealing, however, that every Roman soldier had a Latin name. Many military martyrs were recorded with non-Latin names. That may well indicate that they were baptized.
The Theban Legion was viewed in Jungian fashion by one critic to be a fiction based on archetypical myth. The feast day of the Thebans was the autumnal equinox, 22 September, twelve equal hours of light and darkness. Candidus, an officer of the legion mentioned in its Act, literally meant light. Maurus, the legion's commander, meant dark. That the legend was a pagan myth sprinkled with holy water could be true, or the sort of speculation that emerges in the absence of facts.
Why would the church remain silent for a century after the supposed martyrdom of the legion? Was it possible that church policy itself had changed towards the military in the tumultuous century between the events of the legend and Eucherius’ record?
The yearly feast day honouring a saint is usually the day of his death. The Thebans, according to Eucherius, must have fallen in the spring, beginning the military campaign season. Their feast was in the fall. Possibly, the monks in the Valais had sought a different feast day to avoid overlapping with Easter. Candidus, light, and Maurus, dark, may have suggested the equinox, a day later on the liturgical calendar.
Years would occur before the pièce de résistance in the coinage was recognized. A Canadian collector published an article noting a peculiarity of a tetradrachm of the year of the papyrus ration receipt beginning 1 September 283. It had the usual emperor’s profile on its obverse. The reverse depicted Elpis (hope, in Greek), to pagans not a goddess but an abstraction, to Paul one of the three cardinal virtues.
On the reverse of Alexandrian tetradrachms the symbol L routinely appears, representing not the Latin letter L but ‘year of the emperor’. To the right appears a letter of the Greek alphabet. In Greek, letters were also numbers, Alpha A one, Beta B two, etc.
On some Elpis coins of Carinus’ second year, LB, the B has a lower lobe, clearly a triangle. This creates a monogram. In three centuries of Alexandrian
Monogram on tetradrachms of Emperor Carinus (283–284) from Alexandria in Egypt.
Roman coin issues, hundreds of designs, this is the only monogram known. The B disassembled, produces:
| Greek | Latin | |
|---|---|---|
| Γ | Gamma | G |
| Δ | Delta | D |
| B | Beta | B |
| P | Rho | R |
Placing L before it yields LGDBR.
If this is not an abbreviation for Legio Augusta Thebeorum, what does it represent?
Granted, D is not TH, but can become so in transposing some Greek words into Latin, for example Theos = Deus, Thracian = Dacian.
A critic remarked that this proves nothing except an accident or the curious manner of the engraver in fashioning B. That it was issued the year of papyri indicating a legionary-sized body of ‘soldiers and sailors’ leaving Egypt was taken as mere coincidence.
It was coincidence that the departure of the Theban Legion in the second year of the reign of Carinus and Numerian gave an alert engraver opportunity to put a monogram on their coins citing the Legion.
Coincidence, luck, chance or destiny? The proverb has it that coincidence comes a lot more easily than miracles and is just as useful.
Carinus, in his second year, issued four motif types in his Alexandrian coinage: Elipis, Nike, Athena and the eagle between banners. His brother Numerian that year issued the same motifs, minus that of Elpis. Initially, it was thought that Carinus’ Elpis monogram was a unique and quite rare mintage. Further investigation revealed that all seven types included some coins with the Legio Thebeorum monogram.
The pattern suggests no accident but a policy.
There was a Theban Legion leaving Egypt some two years before the massacre of the legendary Theban legionnaires.
That the reader share the suspense of the pursuit of the reality behind the Theban Legion legend, it is tempting to continue in sequence of the clues, blind alleys, hits, reassessments and clarifications encountered. The evidence was not discovered in the chronological order of the historical events of the story. To present the sequence of discovery necessitates flashbacks not in the order of historical events – a confusing picture. Therefore, the story shall be told in order of historical events, beginning with Mauricius, leader of the Thebans. A professional soldier’s life is inexorably caught up in major events of his era. Detective deduction reveals the culture and happenings that helped forge the man.