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The first chapter is divided into three sections. First, it presents a brief survey of previous scholarship concerning the history of late antique Arabia, the genesis of the Qurʾān and early Islam. It then discusses the sources available for historical research into pre-Islamic Arabia. Finally, it addresses the problem of identifying Arabia and the ‘Arabs’ from antiquity to the rise of Islam by analysing primary sources dated between the first millennium BCE and the sixth century CE. Were there any Arabs in pre-Islamic Arabia? Past scholarship has recursively translated the Semitic root ‘-r-b as ‘nomads’ and/or has used the term ‘Arabs’ to refer to the inhabitants of the Arabian Peninsula in pre-Islamic times. Because of recent archaeological discoveries, we now know that these interpretations must be revised. This chapter argues that the connection between the ‘Arabs’ is purely geographical. These people dwelled in Central and North Arabia but belonged to different tribes, each of which more than likely had different and distinguishable cultural heritages. Hence, it is preferable to use the geographic term ‘Arabians’ to the ethnic term ‘Arabs’ when discussing the inhabitants of pre-Islamic Arabia.
The second chapter narrates the history of North Arabia between the late third and fifth centuries. In around 224, the Arsacid dynasty in Iran was defeated by the Sasanians, who immediately embarked on a war against Rome. The renewed animosity between the two superpowers of Late Antiquity had repercussions in the Near East, causing the fall of valuable buffer states such as Palmyra and Hatra and the employment of Arabian allies in areas such as North Ḥijāz, where the Romans could no longer easily exercise direct control. These Arabian allied confederacies did not have fixed geographical boundaries and were also often unstable in their alliances. After shedding light on the sociopolitical situation of North Arabia, the chapter focuses on the impact of Constantine’s conversion to Christianity, which had the result of creating a cultural network. It argues that Christianity had an instrumental role for the North Arabian urban elites and a more limited role among the poorer classes, especially the rural ones.
The ninth to the fifth centuries BCE saw a series of significant historical transformations across Cyprus, especially in the growth of towns and in developments in the countryside. In this book, Catherine Kearns argues that changing patterns of urban and rural sedentism drove social changes as diverse communities cultivated new landscape practices. Climatic changes fostered uneven relationships between people, resources like land, copper, and wood, and increasingly important places like rural sanctuaries and cemeteries. Bringing together a range of archaeological, textual, and scientific evidence, the book examines landscapes, environmental history, and rural practices to argue for their collective instrumentality in the processes driving Iron Age political formations. It suggests how rural households managed the countryside, interacted with the remains of earlier generations, and created gathering spaces alongside the development of urban authorities. Offering new insights into landscape archaeologies, Dr Kearns contributes to current debates about society's relationships with changing environments.
This book delves into the political and cultural developments of pre-Islamic Arabia, focusing on the religious attitudes of the inhabitants of the Arabian Peninsula and its northern extension into the Syrian desert. Between the third and the seventh century, Arabia was on the edge of three great empires (Iran, Rome and Aksūm) and at the centre of a lucrative network of trade routes. Valentina Grasso offers an interpretative framework which contextualizes the choice of Arabian elites to become Jewish sympathisers and/or convert to Christianity and Islam by probing the mobilization of faith in the shaping of Arabian identities. For the first time the Arabians of the period are granted autonomy from marginalizing (mostly Western) narratives framing them as 'barbarians' inhabiting the fringes of Rome and Iran and/or deterministic analyses in which they are depicted retrospectively as exemplified by the Muslims' definition of the period as Jāhilīyah, 'ignorance'.
The Senatus Consultum de Cn. Pisone Patre is a senatorial decree issued in AD 20 following the trial of Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso, the governor of Syria, who was accused of rebellion against Tiberius following the death of his heir Germanicus. It survives on several inscriptions and is among the most important documents from the early Principate. This new edition, with translation and commentary, sets the text within its contemporary context, considering it alongside other texts (including Tacitus' Annales), coins, and monuments, focusing upon the development of Tiberian political discourse. It explores how contemporary observers (including Valerius Maximus and Velleius Paterculus) understood and contributed to the shaping of dynastic rule at Rome after the death of Augustus in AD 14. It analyses how the Principate continued to evolve under his successor Tiberius, and explores the role of different individuals and groups in negotiating these political changes.
Terentia was born around 98 bc and reportedly died aged 103, in ad 5 or 6.1 From her name, she must have come from an old and respectable family called the Terentii; one branch, the Terentii Varrones, traced itself back to a consul of 216 bc.2 The identity of her mother and father are not known, though her mother must have married twice as Terentia had a half-sister, Fabia (whose father must have been a Fabius), who was a Vestal Virgin. Terentia is best known by her male connection – she was the wife of the lawyer, philosopher, and politician Marcus Tullius Cicero (106–43 bc) – it is impossible to write about her without also writing about him. The couple lived in the dangerous years of the twilight of the Roman Republic and were at the very heart of the conflicts and rivalries that tore it apart. This was the era when powerful Roman warlords were already emerging to challenge the status quo, of civil war, of Sulla, Pompey the Great, and the rise of Julius Caesar.
Once upon a time there was an Egyptian man, a priest, by the name of Wenamun.1 Wenamun was sent by his lord Herihor to fetch wood from Lebanon to build a sacred boat for the god Amon-Ra. Sailing north with his captain Mengebet, he landed at Dor and was entertained by Beder, its prince. His good fortune soon changed and after a series of misadventures, including being robbed by his own crew and attacking a ship belonging to the local Tjeker people of Dor to replace his lost wealth, he ended up at Byblos. Here prince Tjekerbaal felled the trees to provide Wenamun with the timber he wanted. Soon the Tjeker that Wenamun had robbed caught up with him. The prince of Byblos would not arrest Wenamun but instead asked him to depart so that the Tjeker could catch him at sea themselves. However, the wind blew him off course all the way to a coastal town on the island of Alashiya (Cyprus). The story continues thus, in Wenamun’s voice:
Then the town’s people came out against me to kill me. But I forced my way through them to where Hatiba, the princess of the town was. I met her coming from one of her houses to enter another. I saluted her and said to the people who stood around her: ‘Is there not one among you who understands Egyptian?’ And one among them said: ‘I understand it.’ I said to him: ‘Tell my lady that I have heard it said as far away as Thebes, the place where Amun is: “If wrong is done in every town, in the land of Alasiya right is done.” Now is wrong done here too every day?’
She said: ‘What is it you have said?’ I said to her: ‘If the sea rages and the wind drives me to the land where you are, will you let me be received so as to kill me, though I am the envoy of Amun? Look, as for me, they would search for me till the end of time. As for this crew of the prince of Byblos, whom they seek to kill, will not their lord find ten crews of yours and kill them also?’ She had the people summoned and they were reprimanded. She said to me: ‘Spend the night …’.
If we take the story at face value then a town in Late Bronze Age or Early Iron Age Cyprus was ruled by a princess, a powerful woman who saved Wenamun from the mob that would kill him and punished those who had threatened him. The author of the tale includes Hatiba’s words, though the text is incomplete – a tantalising ‘what happened next’….
Eutychis’ name appears in a graffito on the entrance to the House of the Vettii at Pompeii, the ancient Roman town destroyed by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in August ad 79, along with a price; it reads: ‘Eutychis, a Greek lass with sweet ways, 2 asses’ (Figure 25).1 On the face of it, it looks like an advert for sex – a calling card for a female prostitute of Greek origin to attract, presumably, male punters.2 Over 11,000 inscriptions have been found at Pompeii and this one is not by any means the only one referencing sex and the sex industry.3 The sex trade was a normal part of the hustle and bustle of many ancient cities. More than 100 female prostitutes are known by name from Pompeii; ‘prostitutes were’, explains Robert Knapp, ‘quite literally, everywhere’.4
The Amazons are one of the best-known peoples of antiquity – though long thought to be mythical. They appear in book three of the Iliad, from the later eighth or seventh century bc, where they are given the epithet ‘a match for men’; the word ‘Amazon’ is still used to refer to fierce or powerful women. The Amazons were warrior women who legend had it would cut off a breast to enable them to better use their bows – the fifth-century bc Greek historian Hellanikos thought ‘Amazon’ could be read etymologically as ‘a’, ‘without’, ‘mazos’, ‘breasts’ (mastos in Greek).1 Others thought it could be read as without ‘barley’, ‘maza’, and referred to the fact that Amazons did not farm in the way that civilised settled people would. In Airs, Waters, Places, the physician Hippocrates recorded that Sarmatian women burnt the right breast of their baby girls to divert power into their right arms – making them stronger fighters. Such myths about these exotic women in a society where ‘proper’ gendered roles were reversed abounded amongst the Greeks and Romans, Amazon specialist Adrienne Mayor tells us. An alternative and possibly more likely origin for the name comes from old Iranian ‘ha-mazon’ – ‘warriors’. But it may be fruitless to search for meaning in the name – what would a future etymologist make of ‘American’?
Arranged marriages have been commonplace through history and, according to Kennon Rider and Ann Swallow, are still the norm for around half the population of the world.1 They can take several forms, for example, when parents and family select one or more potential marriage candidates, but the child can make a choice between them or refuse a particular individual. An arranged marriage can also be a forced marriage, in which one or both parties are given no choice in their marriage partner. In western culture, arranged marriages tend to be viewed negatively now because a cultural emphasis is placed on romantic love as the main factor in making a ‘proper’ or successful marriage; arranged marriages have, from a western perspective, been seen as primitive and inherently unhappy.2 However, ‘successful’ or at least enduring marriages are more common in arranged marriage cultures, although this may be due to the difficulty and stigma of divorce; love may also develop in arranged marriages and is not unimportant. Marriage in these terms can sometimes be thought of as a partnership and a joint project to be worked on. It can be a way of building and cementing alliances between individuals and families, controlling property and wealth, and of producing legitimate children.
The ecumenical synods of the Roman imperial period cannot be understood without understanding their forerunners, the Hellenistic artists’ associations. These were not organised on a pan-Mediterranean scale as the ecumenical synods were. Rather, they were regionally organised, reflecting the fragmented political world of the Hellenistic period. There were four major associations: the Athenian synod, the Isthmian-Nemean synod, mainly active on the Peloponnese and in Boeotia, the Ionian-Hellespontine synod in Asia Minor and the Egyptian synod connected to the Ptolemaic royal court. This chapter discusses their emergence in the third century bc and their involvement in festivals, politics and religion. In many respects their activities were a model for what would come later, for example their preoccupation with securing financial and honorific privileges for their members, their contribution to the organisation of festivals and their relations with political rulers such as Hellenistic kings and Roman generals.
This chapter bridges the gap between the disappearance of the Hellenistic artists’ associations in the first century bc and the emergence of the ecumenical synods at the end of that century. It begins with a discussion of the first attestations of the ecumenical synods. The ecumenical athletes’ association is first attested in a letter by Mark Antony from the 40s or 30s bc. The first clear evidence of the ecumenical synod of artists dates only from the reign of Claudius (AD 41-54), but there are indications that the artists were already banding together on a transregional scale in the 30s bc. Next, this chapter seeks to explain the emergence of the synods by looking at the broader context of Mediterranean integration. It argues that the synods’ emergence was connected to the development of an 'international' festival network, which was in turn made possible by the Roman unification of the Mediterranean. Moreover, it appears that the Roman takeover in the east created the right conditions for the establishment of associations that transcended the polis framework. Especially the province of Asia seems to have provided fertile soil for experimenting with new organisational forms.
There was a woman of Alexandria named Hypatia, daughter of the philosopher Theon, who made such attainments in literature and science, as to far surpass all the philosophers of her own time …. Some of them [Alexandrian Christians] entered into a conspiracy against her; and observing her as she returned home in her carriage, they dragged her from it, and carried her to the church called Caesareum, where they completely stripped her, and then murdered her with shells. After tearing her body in pieces, they took her mangled limbs to a place called Cinaron, and there burnt them …. This happened in the month of March during Lent, in the fourth year of Cyril’s episcopate, under the tenth consulate of Honorius, and the sixth of Theodosius.1
This is the story told by Hypatia’s near contemporary Socrates Scholasticus (c. ad 379–450) in his Ecclesiastical History, which Hypatia scholar Maria Dzielska tells us provides ‘the most important and most valuable intelligence’ about her life.2 Hypatia was killed in ad 415 in the city where she was born and lived her extraordinary life.3
Helen of Troy is remembered by posterity for her beauty and for causing strife amongst men – hers was the face that launched a thousand ships. But Helen was a figure of ancient Greek myth. Mariamne, the queen of Judaea, was equally known as a beauty and as both a cause and victim of conflict, but unlike Helen she was very real; her story too, though, ‘in the course of time … became a legend’, with Boccaccio, Voltaire, and Byron, amongst others, retelling it in much later times.1