Chapter 10: Meeting of the Heroines
Chapter 10: Meeting of the Heroines
Having had an audience with Emperor Caracalla, was it time now to meet Julia Domna?
Julia Domna—consort of Emperor Severus, and mother of Caracalla and Geta.
(Translator’s Note: Lucius Septimius Severus was Roman emperor from 193 to 211. He was born in Leptis Magna, Libya in the Roman province of Africa. As a young man he advanced through the customary succession of offices under the reigns of Marcus Aurelius and Commodus)
She was Grandmother Julia Maesa’s older sister, so to me, she was my grandaunt.
They called her the Queen of Syria, the Empress of Syria, and she became an Augusta—the first in Roman history to receive the position of Empress Dowager.
Even the name Domna…meant the black color of the black stone that symbolized the Sun God Elagabal.
Just like Grandmother, her family background itself came from an ancient, long-established Arab indigenous royal house.
So the family’s wealth was immense.
Well, in the Roman Empire…without that kind of money, how could she have married someone who could become emperor?
Interestingly, after Emperor Severus lost his first wife, he consulted many fortune-tellers,
and they all gave the same prophecy: “You will marry a Syrian woman.”
Her political power and capability were exceptional—greater even than her younger sister Julia Maesa’s.
She exercised many of the emperor’s powers in his stead, to the point where she shared and handled imperial affairs as if dividing the workload.
Maybe because of that…in ancient Rome, where women’s social standing was low, she was still evaluated as a heroine who led politics.
The problem came after Emperor Severus died.
Caracalla and Geta…she failed to properly mediate the conflict between her two sons.
(Translator’s Note: Publius Septimius Geta was Roman emperor with his father Septimius Severus and older brother Caracalla from 209 to 211. Severus died in February 211 and intended for his sons to rule together, but proving incapable of sharing power, Geta was murdered in December of that year.)
And in the end, it escalated to the point where Caracalla killed Geta, so as a mother, her self-reproach must have been overwhelming.
“There it is. We’re here now. Varius, aren’t you tired?”
“No, Grandmother. I’m fine.”
[Is it because we performed the High Priest duties so well last time? Ever since then, it feels like Grandmother’s attitude toward us has changed. She keeps trying to take only us everywhere.]
That’s true, but…using “we” instead of “I” feels awkward.
Like I’m talking as if I have multiple personalities.
We need to merge into one soon…but when would that be possible?
Julia Domna’s residence sat at the northern edge of the Palatine Hill.
It gave off a very different atmosphere from the rest of the imperial palace.
Standing at the garden entrance with Grandmother Julia Maesa, I paused for a moment.
It felt like a place filled with refinement rather than splendor, with scholarly elegance rather than overwhelming grandeur.
The garden was arranged in a Greek style.
Between geometrically aligned boxwood hedges ran a philosophers’ walking path.
Marble benches placed here and there seemed to declare this was a space for meditation and reading.
At the center, a circular fountain was supported by sculptures of the nine Muses.
Around it, laurel and olive trees cast shade.
“Your grandaunt… my sister. She always liked places like this.” Julia Maesa murmured in a voice steeped in memory. “Even as a child in Syria, she was always buried in books.”
The building itself looked simple, yet dignified.
A two-story structure built of white Pentelic marble.
Ionic columns traced elegant curves as they supported the entrance.
Instead of excessive ornamentation, the walls bore simple, classical reliefs.
Athena with an owl, symbolizing wisdom.
Apollo playing the lyre—restrained beauty, as if on display.
The room we entered to meet my grandaunt Julia Domna felt like a scholar’s sanctuary.
(Translator’s Note: Julia Domna was Roman empress from 193 to 211 as the wife of Emperor Septimius Severus. She was the first empress of the Severan dynasty. Domna was born in Emesa in Roman Syria to an Arab family of priests of the deity Elagabalus.)
All four walls were packed with scrolls and codices.
Books in Greek and Latin, of course—but also texts written in Syriac and Egyptian.
Ladders stood between the bookcases that rose all the way to the ceiling, so even the highest shelves could be reached with ease.
“Wow… why are there so many books?”
[This is basically a treasure vault. It’s exactly what you’d expect of our grandaunt.]
In the center of the room sat a wide stone-slab desk.
Papyrus and parchment were neatly arranged on top, along with ink jars and reed pens.
At one corner of the desk, beside a small hourglass, were various mathematical instruments—enough to show how broad her interests were.
By the window was a comfortable reading chair, and on a small table beside it lay a book left half-read.
I peeked slightly—Plato’s The Republic.
(Translator’s Note: The Republic is a Socratic dialogue authored by Plato around 375 BC, concerning justice, the order and character of the just city-state, and the just man. It is Plato's best-known work, and one of the world's most influential works of philosophy and political theory, both intellectually and historically.)
“It’s been a long time, Maesa…” A low, calm voice reached us.
From the back study, Julia Domna walked out slowly.
Once the most powerful woman in the world.
But now…a deep shadow of sorrow lay over her.
She wore a black toga, yet even so, her bearing overflowed with dignity.
Her hair, threaded with silver, was gathered up neatly like a Greek goddess—intellectual, and aloof in a way that felt noble.
“Sister…” Julia Maesa ran to her and embraced her. “I’ve missed you so much…”
“I have too, Maesa. Especially after Geta… after Geta left…” Julia Domna’s voice trembled.
I quietly lowered my head in greeting. “Greetings, Grandaunt. I’m Varius.”
“Ah… our Varius…” Julia Domna studied my face carefully. “Oh my. You’ve grown so much. When was the last time I saw you…? You weren’t even nine yet. Now that I look at you, Varius, you seem like a half-and-half blend of Caracalla and Geta.”
Is that so?
[I sometimes think that too. Maybe because the blood is mixed…]
“Sit. Let’s sit and talk.” Julia Domna guided us to a comfortable sofa.
A servant soon brought honey water and nuts.
“Varius, I heard you like learning. What are you studying?”
For the first time, life returned to Julia Domna’s eyes.
“Grandaunt, I like history and philosophy. I especially enjoy reading Herodotus and Thucydides.”
(Translator’s Note: Herodotus was a Greek historian and geographer from the Greek city of Halicarnassus, under Persian control in the 5th century BC, and a later citizen of Thurii in modern Calabria, Italy)
(Translator’s Note: Thucydides was an Athenian historian and general. His History of the Peloponnesian War recounts the fifth-century BC war between Sparta and Athens until the year 411 BC.)
“Excellent!” Julia Domna looked genuinely pleased. “History is the key to understanding the present. Then what about Plato? Have you read The Republic?”
“Yes, but I still don’t fully understand it.”
“Of course you don’t. Plato’s theory of the ideal state is something you must contemplate over a lifetime.” Julia Domna smiled. “I’ve been reading it for decades, and every time I gain something new.”
But in the middle of conversation, Julia Domna’s expression would darken again.
Especially when her gaze fell on a small portrait on the desk—tears would gather in her eyes.
“Geta loved learning too.” She said softly. “He especially loved rhetoric and poetry. He was far more delicate and intellectual than Caracalla…”
Julia Maesa gripped her sister’s hand tightly. “Sister, don’t suffer so much. Geta is surely watching over us from a peaceful place.”
“Maesa, you know, don’t you?” Julia Domna’s voice was raw. “Caracalla… in my arms… in my arms he killed Geta… How could I ever forget that sight…?”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
I couldn’t bring myself to speak, and even Grandmother Julia Maesa didn’t know how to comfort her sister’s pain.
“But Maesa.” Julia Domna suddenly lowered her voice. “How is Caracalla? You met him, didn’t you? He seems even more suspicious these days…”
“You’re right, Sister.” Julia Maesa answered carefully. “Even at today’s audience, he kept looking at us with suspicion. He questioned us relentlessly about what happened in Syria.”
“As expected…” Julia Domna let out a deep sigh. “Hah… The guilt of killing his own brother Geta is making him more paranoid. Even the Senate fears him.”
“How have you been, Sister? Caracalla… does he not suspect even you?” Julia Domna gave a bitter smile.
“In politics, I’m already as good as dead. I simply stay in this study and read books. Caracalla knows I’m no longer a threat.”
Hearing her say that only made her seem more pitiful.
“Varius.” Julia Domna looked at her young nephew. “If you are going to live in Rome from here on, there is one thing you must engrave into your heart.”
“Yes, Grandaunt.”
“Do not go too close to the center of power. But do not stray too far from it either. Keep the proper distance, and always use learning and wisdom as your shield.” Her eyes were serious. “Do not become someone like me… like my sons—played by power, or sacrificed to it.”
“I will remember, Grandaunt.”
As the sun declined, golden light began seeping into the room.
Julia Maesa rose and said, “Sister, we should go now. I think we’ve disturbed you long enough.”
“No. If anything, it was a pleasant time after so long.” Julia Domna stood and saw us off. “Come often from now on. Especially you, Varius—if there’s any book you want to read, come anytime and borrow it.”
“Thank you, Grandaunt. I’ll come again to borrow a book next time.”
Walking out through the garden, I looked back.
Julia Domna was standing by the window, watching us.
Her silhouette in the sunset looked beautiful and lonely—like a classical statue.
“Grandmother, Grandaunt looks so sad.”
“She does, Varius. But your grandaunt is strong. She will overcome this ordeal.” Grandmother Julia Maesa answered, but worry seeped into her voice as well.
I know.
I know that Julia Domna’s sorrow continues all the way to her death.
And that death isn’t far off now.
But when I think about it again, aren’t there many parents in this world who carry this kind of sorrow?
No matter what kind of parent they are, the reality is that everyone lives, struggling, with their own grief and pain.
Objectively speaking, both sisters are remarkable people.
Rare heroines…and women with rare political power.
But if I had to compare them…I think Grandmother Julia Maesa’s political ability far surpasses Julia Domna’s.
In what way?
In decisiveness.
When Grandmother Julia Maesa judged that Elagabalus was completely unfit as emperor, she showed the decisiveness to create an alternative and execute it.
On the other hand, Julia Domna, in truth, showed indecision rather than resolve.
Her judgment in mediating her two sons came too late, and later, when Caracalla was assassinated by Macrinus… her decision to strike back also came too late.
When measuring political capability, the most important core factor is decisiveness.
If your decision comes late…you have no way to survive on the cold, merciless boundary between life and death.
In that sense, Grandmother Julia Maesa had great patience, but she did not delay her decisions.
Of course, after Varius became emperor, she can’t escape responsibility for failing to even imagine he would fall into such human corruption…but no matter how outstanding Grandmother’s political ability was, how could she possibly calculate the future perfectly and make every decision accordingly?
Even I—who knows the future in a clumsy, partial way—in this era of upheaval…can’t even begin to predict what sudden variables might appear.