Ancient Superstitions

“Keep a sharp eye,” said Gil. “We’re coming to Omen Crossing. It’s said that whatever you spy first at the crossing is the omen for your journey.”

As the wagon rounded the curve, the crossing signpost came into view. Trevin leaned against it, watching his horse crop the grass nearby.

“Is that a good omen?” asked Melaia.

“Depends on who’s interpreting it,” said Gil. “Seeing as how there’s none of those blasted spy-birds about, I’d say it tends toward the good.”

In Breath of Angel and the other Angelaeon novels, the inhabitants – human and otherwise – hold superstitions like all cultures do. Our own ancient Mediterranean world attached good and bad luck to numbers and days, objects and activities. For example, many ancients believed even numbers were unlucky, but not odd numbers.

Over 80 days of the ancient Roman calendar were considered unlucky “black days.” These included anniversary dates of military defeats as well as days when the underworld was believed to be open. No marriages or betrothals, no public parties or sports events were scheduled on these days. Armies avoided battle on black days. And rulers refused to be inaugurated on unlucky days.

Other superstitions dealt with how you lived your daily life. If you got into a food fight and threw little balls of bread at each other, you would get sick. You would hang a red rag or fox’s tail between the eyes of your horse or donkey to make sure you didn’t fall during your ride.

Many  superstitions developed around sea travel. Aboard a ship, clipping your nails or trimming your hair in good weather was bad luck. So was sneezing while crossing the gangplank to board the ship. Birds sitting among the ship’s ropes was a good sign. Unless the birds were crows or magpies. Then it was a bad sign.

People often carried talismans, objects they believed brought good luck. Talismans could be objects – like a rabbit’s foot – or drawings or inscriptions on objects. Some people thought that if they inscribed the name of an angel on an object – usually a small metal or pottery disk – it would bring good luck. Different angels were thought to have authority or power over different occasions – like a birthing, for instance – so different angel names were inscribed for different occasions. We don’t know exactly who began listing angel names and powers, but it began long before the time of Christ. Anyway, a talisman inscribed with an angel’s name was thought to carry that angel’s energy.

We still have lots of superstitions today. I think about this every time I get in a hotel elevator and there is no “thirteenth” floor. And at my house, if my family throws little balls of bread at each other, they’ll quickly discover that the practice is still considered quite unlucky.

Read Full Post »

Just Beyond That Door

As Livia eased the door open, a warm, woodsy fragrance wafted out. Melaia wondered if choosing to enter this place would be her last act of freedom. She took a deep breath and let Livia usher her inside with Pym. The door clicked shut behind them. (from Breath of Angel)

A mysterious closed door stirs our curiosity and, in stories at least, raises the tension level. As long as we don’t know what’s on the other side, we’re wary. Anything could be lurking there. Even if what lies beyond the door is good, entering signals a change.

As I wrote last week in my blog about keys, most doors in ancient times did not lock. Those that did usually guarded rooms that required the most security: a treasury, a wine cellar, a dungeon, or the chambers of a person of high position. Not only were these doors locked, but they were made of heavy wood and were often bound with strips of iron or even covered with a sheet of metal. Some doors were made of stone.

Doorways between rooms were often narrow and low. A curtain might function as the “door,” or the opening might not be covered at all. The main doorway that led outside was usually wider and taller. In ancient Palestine the expression, “He (or she) heightened the door,” meant that person was showing off.

Gates led through city walls or into palace or temple courtyards. Gatekeepers closed the city gates at night and did not open them until dawn of the next day. A large city gate had a small door in it so that even after the gate was closed for the night, a person could enter. Of course the person had to convince the gatekeeper and guard that he had a right and a reason to be allowed into the city after dark.

Did you ever open a mysterious door? What did you find inside?

I wish you happy adventures on the other side of the door.

 

Read Full Post »

The Power of a Key

Zastra took one gulp. Then another. She blinked slowly and set the goblet aside. Coughed. Murmured. Blinked again. Leaned her head back. And slept.

Melaia tiptoed to Zastra and slowly reached into her waist sash. Empty. Where were the keys? The jailer locked the door after fetching the scraps. If she had no key, she would have no way out. Besides, she needed to unlock the trunk to get the book.

In Ancient Egypt, around 2000 BCE, an unknown inventor tried his idea on a gate. He added a big wooden bolt that had pegs attached to keep the bolt from moving. The pegs released the bolt only when they were raised. With a key. As far as we know, this was the first key-operated lock.

Fast forward two thousand years. Still, we’re in ancient times, the first century CE. Locks had been around a long time, but most houses either didn’t lock, or they were secured with a sliding bolt. Only rich people had doors that locked with a key. Carpenters were the locksmiths. They usually installed door locks and made locking wooden chests.

Castles, palaces, villas, large temples and homes of the wealthy usually employed doorkeepers or “porters” (from port and portal – “gate”). These doorkeepers had the authority to let people in or lock them out. They held the keys. Since most common people had no keys, the key became a symbol of authority or power. People sometimes wore a key as a necklace to show they were wealthy. In the paragraph above from Breath of Angel, the queen mother, Zastra, likes to flaunt her power. And she holds a very important key.

Young children like to play with keys. Do they sense this power? Children are small. So is a key. But with this small object comes power. The sacred key can open doors or start a car or unlock a box that contains . . . a secret?

Sometimes a key itself holds a secret. Have you ever found an old key in a drawer or a container of odds and ends? It’s a key to your past, but . . . what did it open? Ah, power is fleeting.

Read Full Post »

Thievery, Ancient-Style

Before I get to thieves, I want to invite those of you who live in the Nashville, TN area to the Southern Festival of Books this weekend (Oct. 14-16) at the War Memorial Plaza downtown. Lots of fantastic authors will be there, signing their books and speaking on a variety of fascinating topics. I’m scheduled to speak Saturday at 4:30 on the topic, “Fantasy, Murder, and Romance – First Books in Multi-Genre Series.” Copies of Breath of Angel will be available for purchase, and I’ll be available to sign them in the autograph area immediately after my talk.

If you’ve read Breath of Angel, you’ll know that Trevin lost the small finger on his right hand when he was quite young, and he can’t remember how it happened. Here’s an excerpt from Eye of the Sword, book 2 of the Angelaeon Circle novels, due out in March 2012:

Varic leaned toward Melaia, his voice soft but clear enough that Trevin knew he was meant to hear. “A friendly warning, my lady. In our country, taking a finger is the penalty for thievery. A man missing a finger is in no way trustworthy.”

So is Trevin trustworthy? Varic obviously doesn’t think so. Melaia has often wondered. And Trevin wonders about it himself. After all, he grew up robbing and has betrayed people more than once. In fact, he holds a guilty secret that haunts him.

Trevin robbed alone or with his younger brother, Dwin. He never joined  a group like many thieves did in ancient times. Back then robbers often formed bands (thus the word “bandit) and stole for their living. They hid in ravines and caves and attacked travelers. That’s why most people never traveled alone but went in groups or caravans for protection. Many of them sewed their money or valuables into the hems of their clothes or waist sashes.

Caravans hired guides they called “eyes of the caravan.” The job of an “eye” was to watch for thieves. Some caravan masters would hire one band of robbers to protect them from another band. – which makes me wonder if they ever regretted it.

Cattle and sheep thieves also hid in hills, woods, and ravines, watching for an animal to stray from the herd or flock. They crept in and stole strays. But a thief might prefer to be a housebreaker. Since most houses were constructed of mud and straw or clay bricks, housebreakers dug through the walls.

Severe punishments awaited thieves in the ancient world. The captured thief might lose a hand. Or his life. In most countries banditry was a capital crime, punishable by death. The exception was in ancient Palestine under Jewish rule. The Jews limited punishment to no more than “eye for eye and tooth for tooth.” A thief was required to return the stolen property along with a penalty payment.

As you can see from the Eye of the Sword excerpt, nations in Melaia’s world are not as generous. They operate under harsh penalties.

Be safe and well and grateful!

Read Full Post »

A Quandary of Coins

Trevin and Catellus trekked upriver. The recommended ferryman, a long-legged fellow, was touted as the only person with the skills to successfully cross the current. He seemed glad for the business, though his price was high. Trevin was grateful to have more than enough in King Kedemeth’s pouch to pay for their passage. His right hand throbbed, so he used his left to select coins from the purse.

That’s a preview from Eye of the Sword, which releases March 13, 2012. The text has been copyedited and proofed, I’ve sent in a new, expanded map of the three kingdoms, and I expect to see ARC’s (advance reading copies) soon. Meanwhile I keep dipping back into the ancient world, which I find fascinating.

Coins didn’t exist until about 1100 BCE. Before that, people bartered by trading items or exchanging their services for goods. Trade items had to be valuable and easy to transport: cattle, wheat, olive oil, salt, spices, metal for tools and weapons, even slaves. Silver, gold, and copper fit this category and were traded in the form of bars or jewelry.

Coins probably originated in ancient China. At first the Chinese bartered like everyone else. Metal tools were popular items of trade. Around 1100 BCE the Chinese began trading metal miniatures of these tools as symbols of the tools’ value. The next step was metal disks with images on them.

The first coins in the “west” were minted near modern-day Turkey and were made of a mix of silver and gold. In ancient Greece each city-state minted its own coins and stamped them with the image of a chosen hero, god, or goddess. Roman coins often bore the image of the Roman ruler. When a new ruler came to power, a new image went on the coins (although the old ones were still accepted).

Here’s the quandary: So many different coins were in circulation, you didn’t have to go far to find a different currency in use. Which should you use? Which should you carry? Ancient Palestine serves as a good example. That small nation functioned as a well-traveled north-south land bridge, sea on the west, desert on the east. Lots of foreign traffic traveled its caravan routes, so it was common to see the Greek drachma, the Tyrian zuzim, the Roman denarius, and the Jewish shekel among other coins.

The solution: money-changers. In every large city of the ancient world, money-changers manned tables in marketplaces and – for a price – traded foreign coins for acceptable currency. Instead of counting coins, money-changers and merchants weighed them to see if they contained the right amount of gold, silver, or copper. Unscrupulous money-changers used false weights or skewed scales. In some towns, marketplace “police” strolled about, watching for cheaters.

Buying and selling are much simpler with a common currency and agreed-upon standards. Usually. The euro may need to go back to the money-changers. And if our own economy doesn’t get well, we may need to go back to bartering. Anybody want a book?

Read Full Post »

Bury It? Hide It? The Dilemma of Ancient Wealth

A shriek came from the corridor. Peron darted into the room, hugging her crumb jar, with Nuri on her heels. Both girls were open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

Behind them limped a sharp-nosed, beardless man wearing a cloak fashioned completely of feathers – brown, black, and an iridescent blue that glinted in the lamplight. The skin around one of his round gold eyes was blackened, and a scratch jagged across his brow. 

Melaia went cold, head to toe. How had the man entered? Had she left the side door unbolted? . . . She strode to the brazier, her hands clammy as she clung to her harp. “This is the temple of the Most High,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t hear the quaver in her voice.

“So it is,” he hissed, limping to the bier. “I believe I noticed that.”

. . . “If you’re here for our treasury box, take it and be on your way,” said Melaia.

In ancient times the obvious place to find a large sum of money was a palace or temple. Guarded storerooms in palaces held coins and other highly valued items that belonged to the king and the kingdom. Kings could loan money to businesses and pay for construction and other public programs, which gained them favor in the eyes of their subjects – especially valuable if those subjects were influential.

Temples, too, could loan money from their coffers, which they usually kept in storage rooms. The scene above from Breath of Angel refers to a treasury box. Melaia’s temple is poor; the only coins they have are in their offering box. The wealth of her town is stored at the overlord’s villa.

What if you were a common person and had a few coins you needed to keep safe? The oldest custom was to bury the coins. Since the houses of most common people had dirt floors, you could bury your coins indoors under your sleeping mat. Another option, though not as safe, was to hide money or valuables in a jar or barrel in your house. You might hide spices or exotic perfumes, too, because you could use them as currency or trade them for coins.

If you had to carry money, you would slip it into the folds of your belt or waistband (the closest thing they had to pockets), or you could put it in a pouch and tie it at your waist or hang it around your neck. If you were traveling a long distance, you might sew the coins into the hem of your robe or tunic. But you always had to watch for quick-fingered thieves – pickpockets or cutpurses. Trevin and Dwin in the Angelaeon Circle novels spent part of their childhood picking pouches and thieving – until they unwittingly stole from a villain, who was glad to make use of their services in exchange for sparing their lives.

Most wealthy people protected their money by following the common wisdom of the day: invest in land or houses. You could then borrow coins from money-lenders when you needed currency and pay the lenders back with the proceeds from your harvest or the sale of land or the rent paid on your property. Sometimes these proceeds came in the form of the actual product – grain, olive oil, wine. You might pay your taxes with these products as well.

Where was this “treasure” of produce kept? In a storehouse, a rectangular building containing a central hall lined with small rooms. Tax payments made in the form of flour, oil, grain, or wine were kept there in marked jars to be distributed later to the army or the palace. Small towns might have only one storehouse. Large cities set aside one or more districts for storehouses, which lined the streets in that area.

We have many of the same dilemmas the ancients had: how to generate income, how to spend it, where to store it. Life has never been easy. Here’s wishing us all wisdom.

Stay safe and well. Coming up in the next few blogs: thieves, keys, and a quandary of coins.

Read Full Post »

Liver on the Eyes

“The overlord requests your presence,” Hanni told Melaia. “Right away.” She poured the golden potion into a small vial and handed it to Melaia.

“Is he ill?” Melaia swirled the vial.

“Probably his stomach again. Take him that saffroot potion. But it’s your music he’s requested. You know how it soothes him.”

Melaia nodded. Music seemed to be an antidote to the cares that racked the overlord. He was one of her favorite patients. Not so his son, Yareth. The arrogant, moon-pale young man made her skin crawl. She hoped Yareth, feigning illness, hadn’t asked his father to call for the chantress.

People who lived in ancient times didn’t know about bacteria or viruses, and though they studied the body, they had limited knowledge about how it worked. Many of the first doctors were also priests who added magical rites, incantations, and prayers to their cures. In Egypt the priests collected healing herbs from around the world to cultivate in their temple gardens. Famous for their skill, Egyptian physician-priests were sometimes sent to other nations to serve as healers for foreign kings and their families.

Around 300 BCE, the Greeks set up a medical school in Alexandria, Egypt, where would-be physicians studied in libraries and labs. Rome also imported Greek doctors, who were so highly valued that they were granted Roman citizenship under Julius Caesar. Rome established hospitals as well, at first to serve their army. But to find a doctor, you had to go to a big city, because few of them served outlying areas.

In reality anyone could claim to be a doctor. Most physicians trained simply by watching a more experienced doctor at work. Doctors could usually set broken bones, remove arrowheads, and amputate when necessary. They lanced boils, stitched wounds, and even drilled holes in skulls to relieve pressure. Doctors sometimes removed bladder stones. But in any case, surgery was a last resort.

One of the most difficult conditions to treat was blindness, which was common in the ancient world, because most people worked outdoors and had no protection from the sun’s glare. Flies swarmed everywhere and spread germs, and people didn’t know to avoid rubbing their eyes with dirty hands. What’s more, with unpaved roads, it was easy to get dust in your eyes. Doctors tried to treat damaged eyes with salves, but there was not much more they could do, although one doctor claimed to be able to cure cataracts by putting liver on the eyes. (Sounds like a Lady Gaga stunt to me.)

In the section of Breath of Angel that I quoted above, the priestesses discuss two types of healing used in the ancient world: herbs and music, both of which are still used today. Speaking of today, we might do well to take a look at the ancient Roman health care system. Doctors were not taxed on the income they received from wealthy patients if they would treat the poor for free.

So go forth, wear sunglasses, don’t rub your eyes with dirty hands . . . and if you try the liver, be sure to get a photo. You could become famous.

Read Full Post »

Sleeping on Straw

“Gotta’ hit the hay.” When I was growing up, that was a common way for people to say they were going to bed. Hay or straw used to be a common stuffing used in mattresses – and haystacks, if you slept there. I don’t know when the expression “hitting the hay” originated, but the experience must have come with a crunchy feel, a scratchy sound, and a scent – fresh and sweet if the straw was new and clean; musty and sour if the straw was old.

The most ancient bed was a straw-filled mat or wool-filled cloth pad rolled out on the ground – or on grass if you could find it. The poorest of the poor had only their cloaks to sleep on. If you were poor but had a house, it would most likely consist of only one room. Family members roll out their mats at one end of the room (sometimes that end was a wide raised platform), while the family’s animals (sheep, cows, chickens) spent the night at the other end of the room.

Your cloak might double as your blanket at night, though some people had camel-hair or goat-hair blankets. Rich people could afford fine wool blankets. A stone might serve as a pillow. If you didn’t use a stone, you might use a piece of wood, or you could roll up another garment (if you had another) to support your head. But a stone wasn’t necessarily a bad choice. Rich people often used fancy stone headrests, though cushions were an option too. Museums in Cairo display stone headrests and bed frames used by pharaohs.

Only the rich had private bedrooms and frame beds that held their mats off the ground. Frames could be made of iron, wood, stone, or even ivory. Slats to support the mat would be made of one of those materials as well. Your bed frame often indicated your financial status (ivory and certain types of wood being much more expensive than iron or stone). If you were quite wealthy your bed frame would probably be decorated with elaborate carvings. Its feet might be shaped like the feet of a lion or other animal.

In Breath of Angel, Melaia usually sleeps on a mat. Even the caravansary, which has private rooms for rent, provides only thin mats on the floor. The palace, of course, has raised beds as does the sylvan inn, Wodehall. In Eye of the Sword, Trevin finds it difficult to fall asleep at the castle in Flauren, because he has just learned something shocking. But Pym encourages him to take advantage of the soft mattress, pointing out that they’ll probably spend the night on hard ground and thin mats for the rest of their journey.

Back to real history: In time, people figured out how to criss-cross rope from one side of a bed frame to the other to support the mat on top. Rope supports had to be adjusted – “pulled tight” – periodically to keep the mat from sagging. That’s when another old expression originated: “Good night, sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” (Nighttime creepy-crawlies are another matter altogether, but there were plenty of those in ancient times.)

So when you “hit the hay” tonight, “sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite.” Next blog: dreams in the ancient world.

Read Full Post »

Smoky and Dim

If you’re one of the thousands who experienced a power outage during hurricane Irene last week, you probably resorted to flashlights and candles. Or maybe you used a more ancient method: oil lamp or wood fire. These days we are so accustomed to lighting our nights, we often forget that people used to go to bed at nightfall. You may discover why after spending a few nights with only oil lamps or a hearth fire as your light sources. They’re dim, they’re smoky – especially the ancient oils – and if your budget is tight, oil can get expensive.

The basic ancient oil lamp was a pottery bowl with a spout pinched to support a wick. Some lamps were small enough to hold in the palm of your hand. Others fit onto lampstands, which might hold a single lamp or have tiers for several lamps. If you were rich you might hang oil lamps from your ceiling. Some wealthy people had lamps with lattice-like brass sides that enclosed the flame, making the lamp more like a lantern.

Olive oil was the most common lamp fuel, although in later times people also used oil from nuts and fish. A brazier, or “fire-pot,” burned charcoal in a metal bowl on a stand. A wood-burning fireplace or a brazier provided heat as well as light.

With any kind of indoor fire, even lamp flame, ventilation was important. Some buildings had holes in the roof so smoke could escape. Even then, a good amount of smoke settled into the room. (A reason to forego indoor lighting and just go to bed once it got dark – you’d breathe easier.)

In ancient times if you wanted to go somewhere at night, the path could be lit by moonlight, lamp, lantern, or torch – not the British kind, but the fire-on-a-stick kind. Cities sometimes placed torches along main streets for night travel.

The Angelaeon Circle novels refer to all these methods of lighting. In Breath of Angel, the roof-hole above the brazier in the temple provides a way of escape for a villain. In Eye of the Sword, Trevin walks the torchlit coastal street in Qanreef. Brass lanterns hang in the king’s rooms in Flauren. (One of my book trailers shows a real ancient oil lamp in use.)

So if you ever have to resort to candles or flashlights, think of the ancients. And maybe do what they did. Take advantage of the dark hours and sleep.

Read Full Post »

Dove Domes and Roof Paths

I visited Egypt a few years ago with Laura Greene, a writer friend I met at Vermont College of Fine Arts. Laura was doing research for a fascinating novel she’s writing. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was researching too. Memories of that trip have become settings and details in the Angelaeon Circle novels.

One vivid memory comes from our train trip from Cairo to Alexandria. We passed lots of small towns, their houses like boxes arranged along a few roads beside farm fields. Roofs are flat, well-used spaces, some topped with large beehive shape domes riddled with holes. These are dove roosts, where the birds are raised as food. In Cairo on a rooftop above a dye shop, freshly dyed yarn hung from drying racks in the sun.

Houses in many parts of the ancient world had flat roofs – which is still the case in many countries. Roofs are an outdoor room. Sometimes awnings or canopies are set up to provide shade. In hot weather, the roof provides a breezy place to work and a cool place to sleep.

Stairs to the roof are often on the outside of the house (sometimes it’s just a ladder), but in Eye of the Sword, one of the temples has interior stairs leading to a domed roof (domed because it’s a temple, not because they’re raising doves). The roof around the dome, however, is flat. Trevin ends up fighting there, which is incovenient because whoever happens to have his sword arm toward the dome is limited in his movement.

In Breath of Angel, Melaia has grown up in Navia, a city with square towers and flat roofs. When she leaves town, she remembers the pleasure of sleeping on the roof under the stars. Melaia also crosses roofs in Navia to reach the part of town where the overlord’s villa is located. When houses stood wall to wall, rooftops made a convenient upper path across town.

To make a flat roof in ancient times, a builder first laid several beams across the building from one wall to another. He covered the beams with a mixture of mud and straw, which hardened when it dried. This type of roof worked best in dry climates, because after a hard rain, you had to roll a heavy stone cylinder across the roof to repack it so it wouldn’t leak.

Greek and Roman houses often had roofs that angled slightly to a central peak. Overlapping tiles on the roof helped shed the rain. A central courtyard open to the sky often sat at the center of the house. This atrium might be tiled or grassy, but it usually contained a pool or well or some other way to catch rain. In the Angelaeon Circle novels, villas of overlords are built around an atrium. I just finished writing a scene for book 3 in which Trevin stands in the center of the overlord’s atrium, yelling up at the walkways surrounding it. Umm . . . I guess you’ll have to wait awhile to find out why.

Meanwhile, may your roof keep out the rain and shelter love, joy, and peace in your house.

Read Full Post »