I used to love the movie Braveheart. I mean, I loved it. Such an inspiring story of courage! Like great bagpipe music, it stirred my blood. (And to those who might say, “There’s no such thing as ‘great bagpipe music,’” I say, you have never heard the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing “Amazing Grace” with bagpipes…)
I teach classes on Medieval weaponry and armor at writers’ conferences and Renaissance faires—“Swords and Spears and Axes, Oh My (Medieval Weapons 101).” I have collected a rather large arsenal of ancient weapons— some are truly ancient, while most are battle-ready, museum-quality replicas of actual museum pieces. I pass the swords, spears, axes, war hammers, maces, daggers, etc. around and allow participants to heft and handle them, while I sing songs and tell tales from history and talk about how those lovely, lethal objects were actually used.
At writers’ conferences, the purpose of the class is to allow authors and aspiring authors the opportunity to describe combat with a greater degree of accuracy, and in many cases, to wisely choose which weapons their characters should use in their stories. At the Ren faires, I’m attempting to infuse a greater love of history and a love and respect for the brave men and women who stand between us and the darkness and have done so throughout history.
In my classes, when I talk about the Battle of Bannockburn, I ask, “How many of ye have ever seen the “entertainment” known as Braveheart? (I call it an “entertainment”, because it’s a Ren faire and movies didn’t exist in whatever time period is being portrayed. Also, I do my classes “in-character” to match my full Scottish garb, including kilt.) In answer to my question, a great number of people raise their hands, including myself. Then I ask, “How many of ye ken it’s all a pack of lies?”
That elicits a laugh.
Then I list off some of those lies—
“Nobody wore kilts at the time.”
“William Wallace was a nobleman, nae a commoner. He was Laird Protector of Scotland, fer cryin’ out loud!”
“William Wallace was a Lowlander, nae a Highlander.”
“William Wallace did nae cry, ‘Freedom!’ as ’tis impossible tae yell anythin’ when your diaphragm has been removed, which is part of the mode of execution known as drawing-and-quartering.”
“There was nae ever any such a thing as prima nocta.”
“Robert was a true Scottish patriot, nae a craven political maneuver.”
“Oh, and the princess? She was six years-old when Wallace died and had ne’er been tae Scotland. So… that did nae happen.”
So when, to my dismay, I learned of all the inaccuracies and blatant lies that were portrayed in that beloved movie, I did some research of my own on the screenwriter who wrote the movie (who claims to be a descendant of William Wallace and whom I will not name here). When questioned about the non-historical nature of the film, he said, “Never let the truth get in the way of a good story.”
Well, I simply can’t do that. Yes, I know I’m writing fiction, but I want to keep the story as close to the truth as possible. No, “want” isn’t a strong-enough word. I need to stay as close to the truth as possible, otherwise, the story rings false. But, especially in the case of this story, I am fighting Hollywood tooth and nail. Ancient Rome has been depicted many times in film, and so, increasingly, has first century Roman Britannia. And the inaccuracies are often stunning.
So while I am no scholarly expert on this period of history and this setting, I have painstakingly researched in order to keep the details as accurate as possible. And I have consulted with a former professor of antiquities, a friend of mine in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. In fact, I have talked his ear off. And he has graciously and patiently listened and advised.
So, as you read this story, I am going to challenge (and decimate) many of the images that Hollywood has spoon-fed into your minds. (By the way, decimate is a very interesting word with Roman military origins. It didn’t mean then what it means today…) So, please be prepared to set aside many of your preconceived notions.
Here’s one example—did you know that there were only eighteen Roman male first names in use during the first century? The main character is named Marcus Scribonius. And in his century (Roman military unit) of eighty men, fifteen other men would have the first name of Marcus. So at this period, one would never refer to Marcus Scribonius simply as “Marcus.” One would almost always use his first name and his family name—Marcus Scribonius. Only in an intimate setting would he ever be called “Marcus,” and then only if there were no other Marcuses in the room.
Another example—the Romans, while obsessed with bathing, did not use soap (and, yes, soap was around at the time). They cleaned their skin by rubbing olive oil into the skin, and then scraping it off with a flat, hook-shaped instrument called a strigil. I have to admit, when I discovered this little fact, my mind was officially blown. And they washed clothes in urine.
And in spite of what you have seen in the movies, the Roman short sword known as the gladius was not used to hack at the enemy. It was a thrusting weapon, used to stab at the enemy. So there was none of this sword-clashing-on-sword fighting in the Roman army. In fact, legionnaires were not trained in one-on-one combat—they trained and fought only as organized units. And they were extremely effective.
If you have read my other published works, you may recognize certain characters and circumstances, and I hope that will bring you joy. If you have not read my other published novels, don’t worry—you will still be able to fully enjoy the story.
For me, this has been a fun ride—all of it, including the late nights of historical research. I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
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