Voice in the Wind: Those Horrible, Immoral Romans

Voice in the Wind, pp. 180-186

This week’s section is all about how much Atretes hates Romans. It begins with him walking through crowds, into the city to the ludus.

A man touched him in a way that sent the hair on the back of his neck bristling. He lunged at him, wanting nothing more than to break his neck, but the chains prevented him from doing so. Bato gave an order and several guards moved closer to the wagon to keep admirers back. But that didn’t prevent him from following and calling out lewd propositions.

In Germania, men who lusted for men were drowned in a bog, their perversity thus hidden from the world forever. Ah, but in Rome, they spoke openly of their foul passion, shouting it from the roofs and street corners, and in the streets, as they strutted about proud as peacocks.

Atretes felt a burning contempt in his heart. Rome, reputedly pure and majestic, was a stinking bog of base humanity drowning in the filth of depravity.

In the hands of a different author, I might think this simply an attempt to get at what Atretes might think as he encounters a culture very different from his own. And it’s true that Tacitus wrote that the Germans punished homosexuality with death in the bog (we have no sources from the Germans themselves). However, given that Rivers is writing for an evangelical audience, this reads as far more than that.

And then there’s this xenophobic bit:

His hatred deepened and an even fiercer pride rose within him. His people were pure, unpolluted by those they conquered. Rome tolerated every excess, accepted every philosophy, encouraged every abomination. Rome joined itself with every comer.

Note that the characters we’re meant to care about are from places other than Rome. Atretes, Hadassah, and even the Valerian family (they’re originally from Ephesus). Rivers has a major problem with Rome—with its tolerance of other religions, but also with its glorification of violence and, most importantly, its moral code. The trouble is, the Rome she’s dealing with is a stereotype.

Consider Arria, a young unmarried Roman noblewoman who has slept with a string of lovers, with everyone’s full knowledge. As several commenters with a background in this area have noted, there is much about Rome that has far more in common with Christianity than evangelicals like Rivers seem to understand—including Roman sexual ethics. Julia’s story—being kept in the home and carefully chaperoned until a marriage is arranged—was the norm, not Arria’s.

Next, Rivers writes the following:

Sometimes women came to the ludus—Roman women who found it entertaining to go through the paces of a gladiator. Beneath the watchful eyes of several armed guards, they exercised with the trainees. Dressed in short tunics like the men, they exposed their legs. Atretes looked upon these women with disdain. They were arrogant in their insistence that they were as good as any man, all the while demanding that they be pampered.

It’s true that noble women liked to go to ludi and watch the gladiators train. Unfortunately, it’s been a few weeks since I read Mary Beard’s book on the Colosseum, and I had to return it. One thing that struck me in reading Beard’s book is that historians actually know far less about gladiators, and gladiatorial games, than most think we do. Very few sources exist, and those that do are often complicated. Before I get to what historical sources we do have, let me give you the rest of the passage:

Atretes’ mother had been a strong woman, capable of entering a battle when necessary. Yet never once had he heard her claim she was better than or even equal to any man, even the least among the tribesmen. Her husband was Hermun, chief of the Chatti, and there was no one to equal him. His mother was a sorceress and seer, and no one had equaled her either among all the Chatti. She was considered a goddess in her own right.

Atretes thought of Ania, his young wife. Her sweetness had roused a tender protectiveness in him. He had wanted to keep her from harm…

This bit just exists as contrast. It does bring up another question—what we know about Germanic women. But really, what I read here is the evangelical influence. Atretes’ mother was to be admired within her given role. She never tried to step foot out of it. And Atretes’ wife—her primary characteristic was sweetness. How convenient! Atretes’ wife and mother fit evangelical gender narratives perfectly.

But wait! We’re still not done with Atretes’ loathing of Roman women!

He looked at a young Roman woman exercising with the men. No woman of his tribe would strut about dressed as a man and brandishing a sword as though the mere mention that she was a woman would enflame rage and shame.

This makes me more curious about Germanic women. I did a bit of digging, but the sources on things like this are really very sparse, and always filtered through specific lenses.

Atretes’ mount twisted in contempt. These Roman women came to the ludus disdainful of men, then strove to become one.

You’ll see why the above bit is in here in a moment. First, let’s finish:

He noticed they never challenged the well trained. They chose instead the smallest novice on which to test their blade, strutting about when they drew blood. They believed they had proven themselves equal. What a joke! All with whom they sparred were constrained by unspoken laws—only free Roman women came to play games with the gladiators, and one scratch on a pretty white Roman hide could cost a man his life, unless the woman was fair-minded and spoke quickly enough to spare him.

So they’re also cowardly in Atretes’ estimation. Lovely.

Rivers appears to have read Juvenal’s Satires, written in the same general period:

“Who has not seen the dummies of wood they slash at and batter
Whether with swords or with spears, going through all the moves?
These are the girls who blast on trumpets in honour of Flora.
Or, it may be, they have deeper designs, and are really preparing for the arena itself.
How can a woman be decent, sticking her head in a helmet, denying her sex she was born with?
Manly feats they adore, but they wouldn’t want to be men,
Poor weak things (they think), how little they really enjoy it!
What great honour it is for a husband to see, at an auction
Where his wife’s effects are up for sale, belts, greaves, manica and plumes!
Hear her grunt and groan as she works at it, parrying, thrusting;
See her neck bent down under the weight of her helmet.
Look at the rolls of bandage and tape, so her legs look like tree trunks.
Then have a laugh for yourself after the practice is over,
Armour and weapons are put down, and she squats as she uses the vessel.
Ah, degenerate girls of the line of our praetors and consuls, 
Tell us, whom have you seen got up in any such fashion,
Panting and sweating like this? No gladiators wench,
No tough strip-tease broad would ever so much as attempt it.”

I’ve highlighted the relevant points. Women, denying the sex they were born with, but also despising men—this is exactly what Rivers has Atretes thinking—and how could he know these women also despised men. Juvenal’s work appears to be the primary (and perhaps only) Roman source suggesting that noble women would sometimes practice in ludi. But remember that these were satirical poems. Echoing satirical poems line for line, completely uncritically, seems unwise.

And, again, note Rivers’ demonization of anything Roman. Note, too, how much of this has strong anti-feminist undertones. Rivers is using Atretes’ hatred of Rome to make evangelical points—opposition to gay rights and feminism among them. Rather than recognizing Rome as a complex society both culturally and morally, Rivers presents it as a target board for evangelical darts. There’s a full bingo of something here.

Rivers next writes that Roman men sometimes came to the ludus to train as well, and that after he had been there for several months Atretes was set against a young Roman aristocrat. The two fought with real swords, and Atretes nicked the man’s face. Bato ends the match, but the Roman is angry, and Atretes taunts him.

Real swords? Really? Wouldn’t that be rather dangerous?

Bato was grim. The two guards said nothing as Atretes was led away from his quarters. He expected to be whipped and put in solitary confinement. Instead, Bato sent him a woman. This one was not a tired kitchen slave, but a young prostitute with imagination and a sense of humor.

The door opened and she stood looking in at him, a guard just behind her. She was young and beautiful and dressed in finery fitting for a Roman feast. “Well, well,” she said, smiling and looking him over from head to foot as she entered his cell. “Bato said I would like you,” She laughed as he stood frozen with shock, staring at her, and the sound was like long-forgotten music.

The next morning, Bato tells Atretes he sent the woman so that Atrees would “have one good thing before you died.” The man Atretes nicked was the son of a powerful Senator, and he was angry. Bato expected Atretes to be crucified for what he did—but come to find out, Domitian feels too much has been invested in Atretes, and decides to bump up his fighting schedule instead.

But I’m still stuck on Atretes remarking that this woman “was not a tired kitchen slave.” That girl Atretes raped during his early days in the ludus in Capua was only the first of many—and he clearly knows that his attentions are not wanted. But it’s not as though he is forced to rape these women. As a reader pointed out, in the movie Spartacus, the titular character reacted differently when a woman was sent to him in a similar manner. He refused to rape her, recognizing her situation. Atretes, in contrast, is an asshole pure and simple.

Atretes’ position as consummate asshole makes it perhaps odd that Rivers is using him as a lens through which to condemn the moral excesses of Rome. But then, there is a certain rightness about this. Evangelicals frequently condemn one sort of behavior without necessarily condemning another. There’s a skew here. Sexual contact outside of marriage is condemned—but women are expected to submit to their husbands. Fallen women are condemned as temptresses who lead men astray, and evangelicals’ view of an ideal man is often one that is domineering. As soon as you move away from consent-based ethics, things get messy.

Next week, Atretes fights in the arena for the first time.