Rebel Spirits: Boudicca and Zenobia Go to War with Ancient Rome
On our journey through ancient Rome, we’ve walked mostly with imperial women, seeing the Republic, then the Empire, through their eyes. Those ladies lived at the center of Rome’s politics and aristocracy, very much a player at the heart of the game. But what was life like for women in the territories it conquered?
At its height in 117 CE, Rome controlled everything from the misty fields of Britannia to the northern rim of Africa, then east through Egypt and north to Armenia. Their territory stretched over 5 million square kilometers. The Roman military machine that took hold of those lands was legend: efficient, brutal, huge. When people saw it coming, they had a stark choice to make: fight back, and risk losing everything, or give in and live to fight another day.
Over time, some folded themselves into the Roman Empire, choosing to work with it. But there were always those who fought back against the empire that sought to change and to rule them. These rebels with a cause gave everything they had for freedom.
A few of them even happened to be women. And sometimes - just sometimes - they fought and won against the Romans, striking fear into the hearts of all men.
We’re about to go on an adventure with two of them: Boudicca and Zenobia. These warrior women were from different times and vastly different cultures. One was bent on revenge against the soldiers who hurt her family; the other was a cosmopolitan ruler who took advantage of Rome’s weaknesses to take a huge chunk of the Empire for herself. They’re both like candle flames seen through a thick, wind-ruffled sheet: the details are hazy, shrouded in mystery and hearsay, leaving only a glowing impression of greatness. We know more about what these legends came to stand for than who they truly were. Our sources for their lives are very scant, always biased, and often dubious. But their tales are just too delicious not to tell. History is a story, forever shaped by the storyteller. And so I’ll do my best to drop us into their worlds to experience the feats they achieved against all odds.
Grab a pointy spear, some riding boots, and a steely will. Let’s go traveling.
MY SOURCES
BOOKS
Women Warriors: An Unexpected History. Pamela Toler, Beacon Press, 2019. This is SUCH a great book. I highly recommend you grab a copy!
Boudica. Vanessa Collinridge, Ebury Press, 2005.
Zenobia: Shooting Star of Palmyra. Nathanael J. Andrade. Oxford’s series, 2018.
Palmyra: An Irreplaceable Treasure. Paul Veyne, The University of Chicago Press, 2017.
Barbarians: Rebellion and Resistance to the Roman Empire. Stephen P. Kershaw, Robinson, 2019.
ARTICLES/ONLINE
“Zenobia” by Anne Thériault. Part of the Queens of Infamy series on Longreads.com. I LOVE this series: fun, informative, and female focused.
“Zenobia” and “Boudicca.” Joshua J. Marks, World History Encyclopedia. Always a good starting point source!
“Big, Bad Boudica: Britain Rebels Against Rome” by Richard Hingley, National Geographic Travel, September/October 2019.
“Zenobia, the Rebel Queen Who Took On Rome” by David Hernandez de la Fuente, National Geographic Travel, 2018.
“Celtic Life in Iron Age Britain.” A British Museum online exhibition.
“It’s True: Ancient Gauls Embalmed the Severed Heads of Their Enemies” by Jason Daley, SmithsoniamMag.com, Nov. 2018.
“Zenobia in Chains.” Saint Louis Art Museum. Good info on Harriet Hosmer’s marble statue of Zenobia.
This map shows how the Roman Empire grew over the years and highlights some of the women who fought against that expansion. You can buy a copy of this poster at my Exploress shop! Just go to the Store page.
EPISODE TRANSCRIPT
please forgive the occasional typo or formatting error. This was written for audio! and keep in mind that i tend to edit as i record, so this transcript won’t match the audio exactly.
Like so many of our most legendary women warriors, Boudicca’s been known by many names. Boudicca with one C and two, Boadicea, Buddug in Welsh. We don’t even know if that’s the name she’s born with. We think the name derives from a Proto-Celtic word that means “victorious,” which could be a title she picks up later. Either way, it fits her well. By all accounts, this queen of Britannia’s Iceni is like a raging wildfire, giving the Romans in her lands quite a serious run for their money. But what drives her to take up arms against the Romans? How does she end up at the head of a ragtag army that burns several Roman cities to the ground?
Roman Britain
It’s 60 CE when Boudicca revolts against the Roman Empire. But to understand what exactly she’s fighting, we have to travel a bit further back. By the time Boudicca’s picking up her pointest spear, Rome’s only occupied the island they call Britannia for about two decades. But they’d known about the wild, mysterious islands over the Ocean for quite a long time. A Greek explorer, Pytheas of Massilia, circumnavigated this cluster of islands around 330 BCE and wrote about his travels there. He dubbed them The Pretanic Isles and some of the people he discovered there the Pretani: it’s related, we think, to a Celtic word that might mean “the people who paint themselves.” Julius Caesar will later misspell it, which is why we’re going to call it “Britannia.”
Julius Caesar is the first Roman general to officially sashay over the Channel into this mysterious land. In August, 55 BCE, he sails off to see what he can see. Just to ground you in what we’re already learned about Caesar, at this point he’s still part of the First Triumvirate, he’s well into his on-again-off-again affair with our friend Servilia, and he hasn’t yet had a lusty affair with Cleopatra. Remember that, at this point, Rome is still a Republic, not yet a vast Empire. Soldiers feel more allegiance to their generals than anyone, and they’ll usually follow him wherever he leads. Julius is a man on the rise, and he knows that conquering foreign lands is a potent way of gaining fame and influence. In fact, he’s just won a rather bloody - and from his perspective, successful - campaign over in Gaul. Gaul is worth lingering over for a minute, because culturally its people bear a striking resemblance to the one we’ll find in Britannia. Proud, clannish, fearsome in battle, and loath to let anyone tell them what to do.
Gaul encompasses a huge swathe of land that sprawls across western Europe, including France, Luxembourg, Belgium, Switzerland, some of the Netherlands, bits of Germany, and bits of northern Italy too. This is also a good time to define the term “Celt,” though it turns out it’s not an easy one to pin down. The ancients used it to describe a whole host of European peoples whose languages, cultures, and political structures all shared a common origin. It first appeared in the Late Bronze Age around the upper Danube around the 13th century BCE. From there, it spread through Europe and eventually into the British Isles. To the Romans, all Celts seem much the same, but each has their own traditions and local way of doing things. None of these clans see themselves as a united whole, or even as united by some kind of nationhood. But one thing they most definitely share is a rep as some of the most fearsome warriors around. The Gauls, in particular, sacked Rome in 390 BCE, then again in 279 AND 225. Roman sources describe how they embalm the severed heads of their enemies and have their horses wear them like a gruesome necklace, and we have some archeological evidence to suggest that story’s true. Their long hair, imposing physiques, big swords, and nimble chariots have long inspired fear in the hearts of Roman generals everywhere. You know what else makes them quake in their togas? The women who ride into battle beside them. As one ancient Roman historian will comment, “A whole band of foreigners will be unable to cope with one of them in a fight, if he call in his wife.” The Gauls have no desire to see the Romans take over what’s rightfully theirs. But their tendency to fight with, and turn on, each other gives Caesar the upper hand.
don’t mess with the best.
The Dying Gaul, a Roman statue with a torc in the Capitoline Museums in Rome
For lots of fascinating stuff about Caesar and the Gauls, and Celtic culture in general, go and listen to some episodes of Ancient History Fangirl. For now, just know that conquering the Gauls is considered an incredibly gigantic deal. High on victory, Julius Caesar decides to keep on going north. He sends a Gaulish ally across the Channel to try and drum up support amongst the local tribes in Britannia, and another on a fast galley to scout out the coast. When the time is right, he assembles 80 ships and some 12,000 men (2 legions), and heads for the white cliffs of Dover. What he finds there is a bunch of warriors staring down at him, armed to the teeth and looking ready to rumble. Undaunted, Julius sails up the coast, looking for a good place to land, while the locals keep pace on land. With so many trade relations with Gaul, it’s possible they have a good idea what’s coming for them. And they have zero interest in a Roman general stopping by.
The Roman army is one of the most disciplined and organized around, and these particular troops have just celebrated some unexpected victories against people very much like the ones up on those cliffs. And yet, when they’re given the order to disembark somewhere near Kent, the legions hesitate. Who can blame them, as they face down a bunch of screaming warriors with blue-painted skin and cruel-looking spears, horses and chariots glinting. This is a place of myth and mystery they aren’t sure they really want to explore.
For the Romans, Britannia has long been a land of scary stories, repeated around fires late at night. Years later, Agrippina the Elder’s husband, Germanicus, will accidentally wash up on the shores of Britannia. Of what they find on shore, Tacitus tells us: “...not a man returned from the distance without his tale of wonders--violent whirlwinds, mysterious birds, enigmatic shapes half man half beast: things seen and things believed in a moment of terror.” But after getting a stern talking to, Julius’ troops disembark, and get into a very messy skirmish. They eventually drive the Britons back, but with their cavalry still at sea, Caesar can’t do much to follow up the action. It’s an unfortunate trip all around: starvation, storms, shipwrecks. Tired of the whole business - or perhaps just defeated by it - Caesar sails back to Gaul.
His second trip the following year goes better. A powerful tribe called the Trinovantes offer him aid and provisions, and five further tribes surrender to him. But others won't give up what’s theirs without a fight. When Caesar sails back to Gaul this time, he’s secured promises of hostages and tribute, but he doesn’t leave anything like a permanent mark. But his trip creates a link between Britannia and Rome, which will continue to grow through trade relations. Rome won’t forget about the wild land to the north.
The Romans won’t march into Britannia again for another hundred years or so, so let’s stop and meet the Celts of Britain properly. We’re talking about Britain at the tail end of what historians call the Iron Age. Like over in Gaul, the Britannic Isles are home to lots of different tribes, all with their own leaders, laws, territories, and allegiances. It’s not uncommon for them to fight with each other - Britannia isn’t always a peaceful place to be. Like proper colonialists, our Roman sources would have us believe that they bring culture and civilization to the Brits, but that’s not true. Archaeological finds suggest they built their own cities. They don’t have tall buildings like the Romans, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t constructing impressive things. A lot of them will be lost to time, but foundations remain. In Scotland, there are the tall, double-walled stone towers called brochs. British tribes build some impressive hill forts. And then there’s Stonehenge in southern England - it’s constructed even before the Iron Age. Theories abound on what exactly the site was built for, but one thing is clear: the massive blue stones brought there around 2500 BCE, were carted all the way from Wales, through lands held by different tribes, and situated in a beautiful and very specific way. I’m impressed! Literacy among Iron Age Brits doesn’t seem widespread: they don’t write down their histories, but that’s not the only form of storytelling. We’ve found sophisticated weaponry, wheels, art, and surgical tools like scalpels and forceps. And jewelry: such glorious jewelry. One type is called a torc: a hollow metal circlet that’s open at both ends so it can be fitted around someone’s throat like a choker. Made of gold and sometimes silver, these are as beautiful and sophisticated as any metalwork found in Rome.
Most Brits are farmers, who spend their days ploughing, herding, weaving, spinning, cooking, butchering. They live in roundhouses, where a fire in a central hearth is always raging, made of timber and thatch. They trade with other Celtic people in Continental Europe, and as trade brings more money, some people start putting down scythes and picking up spears. They show off their wealth on elaborate shields and wear it on their bodies. Warrior leaders start turning into monarchical dynasties, and that gives women a chance at power, too.
After Caesar dies and Augustus becomes the first emperor, he doesn’t have time to bother with Britannia. There’s too much Rome-centric drama to smooth out. Several British kings show up in Rome starting during his reign, seeking refuge, and perhaps hoping the Empire might intervene in their affairs back home. This reminds me a little of the Ptolemaic royals over in Egypt, asking Rome to get involved in their political dramas. Big mistake. Gaius, AKA Caligula, sends some of his troops across the Channel in 40 CE. He talks a big game about wanting to conquer the islands, but when he gets close, he seems to change his mind. He orders his confused troops to collect some seashells as if they’re war trophies, calling them, as Seutonius tells us: “the spoils of the sea.” Oh, Caligula.
And then comes our old friend, Emperor Claudius, who as you’ll remember will become Agrippina the Younger’s husband. He is the fourth emperor in what is now very firmly an empire - one keen to expand its borders and its power. He needs a PR win to establish his authority, and what better way to get it than to conquer the land the great Caesar couldn’t? It would gain them valuable metals, pearls, and slaves, with the added bonus of helping them subdue those pesky Gauls, who keep using Britannia as a mutinous home base for their rebellions.
He sends an exploratory expedition over, which connects with two tribes: the Cantiaci and the Catuvellauni. If they become Roman allies, they say, Claudius will make it worth their while. When one of Claudius’ client kings, a guy named Verica, is ousted from his tribe and territory, Claudius uses it as an excuse to send four legions over...you know, just to help out his buddy. Not to take over an island. When some 40,000 Roman soldiers sail over and make their way inland, they’re met by two kings: Caratacus and Togodumnus. Their forces clash at what’s now called the Battle of the Medway. The fighting goes for days, bloody and brutal. Togodumnus is slain, Caratacus flees, and the Brits have no choice but to bend the knee to the Romans. Claudius shows up in his fanciest gear just as his troops capture the town of Camulodunum. That’s where a number of local kings surrender to him. Plautius, Claudius’ commander, is set up as the local governor, and with that, Rome has officially dug its claws into Britannia.
Not to say there won’t be more rebellions. Caratacus, that king who managed to escape at the Medway, takes his bruised pride and burning fury over to the Welsh mountains, where he builds up a force to fight back. In 47 CE, he starts wreaking havoc on the Romans. So much so that when a new governor shows up in 48, he immediately sets up to fight them down. As part of that move, he takes all weapons away from the tribes that’ve allied with Rome as an extra precaution. Unsurprisingly, this move stirs up some ire. We’re supposed to be friends, remember?! Some of them band together to revolt against this new governor and his forces, including some members of the Iceni. That’s Boudicca’s tribe - but more on that in a moment.
Eventually, the rebel Caratacus is cornered and flees north, into the lands held by the Brigantes. He hopes they will hide him, and maybe even join him. But their ruler is not about to jeopardize her good relationship with the Empire. So she claps him in irons and sends him off to Rome.
Boy, bye.
Caractacus, King of the Silures, deliver'd up to Ostorius, the Roman General, by Cartismandua, Queen of the Brigantes. F. Bartolozzi, British Museum.
the other ancient roman queen: Cartimandua
Wait: did I just say SHE? Another queen? Yes: the first one documented in Britannia. HER name is Cartimandua. Don’t get too excited, as we know even less about her than we do about Boudicca. She is queen of the Brigantes, in control of one of Britannia’s largest territories. And she stays in power for decades, despite how Rome feels about females in charge. Powerful women aren’t a foreign concept in Britannia; the Brigantes get their name from a patron goddess, Brigantia. Rome might not think women can rule, but clearly the tribes here disagree.
Most of what we know about her comes from Tacitus, who paints her as - you guessed it - little better than a lust-driven shrew. Over the coming years, the story goes, Cartimandua will cheat on her husband Venutius, cuckolding him in favor of his armor-bearer. So of course, Tacitus says, she didn’t have many friends. “...On the side of the husband were the affections of the people, on that of the adulterer, the lust and savage temper of the queen.” Cartimandua asks for some Roman troops to protect her from her husband, which they send. Eventually, they’ll end up divorced and in a bloody feud, during which Tacitus says she uses “cunning stratagems” to capture her ex-husband’s family members. This would all be fine, if a man was doing it. But, as Tacitus makes sure to point out, the people around Cartimandua “were stung with shame at the prospect of falling under the dominion of a woman.” We’ve heard this before in tales told of warrior queens, and we’re going to hear it again: how shameful everyone found it to be led by a lady. But to me, it sounds a lot like Roman fear.
Roman nail-biting over female power aside, it’s clear Cartimandua is a savvy leader. We can’t know why she turns Caratacus in, but she must see it as a way to hold onto her authority, even if Roman writers don’t give her much respect.
Back to the freedom fighter Caratacus. It’s 51 CE, and he’s famous enough for his exploits that he and his family are sent to Rome in chains. They’re paraded through the streets, then brought to beg for their lives at Claudius’ dias. You might remember that Agrippina is also there for this very public, very political moment, and sitting on her own impressive dias. When Caratacus is given the floor, he makes quite a speech. Here’s a highlight: “If you Romans choose to lord it over the world, does it follow that the world is to accept slavery? Were I to have been at once delivered up as a prisoner, neither my fall nor your triumph would have become famous. My punishment would be followed by oblivion, whereas, if you save my life, I shall be an everlasting memorial of your clemency.” It’s so impressive that he and his family are given their freedom. And, as Tacitus has it, after they are “released from their bonds, they did homage also to Agrippina who sat near, conspicuous on another throne, in the same language of praise and gratitude.” You have to wonder if Agrippina knows about the woman who helped send this man onto his knees before her, and what she thinks of a queen ruling somewhere far across the waves. She certainly hasn’t ever heard the name Boudicca. Aggie will die just a year before she becomes a famous and fearsome warrior queen.
All hail the warrior queen. If you like this Boudicca artwork, you can buy it as a print or on greeting cards from my merch shop!
the rebel queen of the Iceni
As we meet up with Boudicca at last, it’s important to note that we get her story from only two historians - Tacitus and Cassius Dio - and both are...well, Roman men, so biased against a woman they see as a barbarian, and the enemy of their Empire. Tacitus is alive during her lifetime, at least, and his father-in-law is actually in Britain during her revolt. He probably has access to people who know what happened. Cassius Dio, not so much. Their accounts are different in several respects, and it’s impossible to take either one of them as gospel. We’ll explore the version of her story most commonly told.
Born somewhere around 30 CE, Boudicca’s a teen when Rome moves into her homeland. She grows up amongst the Iceni in Britannia’s southeast, in a time of immense change. One where there are two kinds of people: those who ally with the Romans and those who rebel against it. On the one hand, becoming a Roman client ruler is to enter into a relationship with a clear imbalance of power. But on the other, it holds Rome at arm’s length, slowing their lands’ absorption into the Empire and allowing them some breathing room. At least in theory. Those who play nice don’t have a totally raw deal. Client kingdoms have to pay taxes, and offer support to the Romans when needed, but it also wins them protection and no direct military overlording. Very little changes in the lives of those clans living in the North. The roads get better, sure, but life is mostly what it was before. In the South, the Roman presence is much more prevalent, but it’s not as if they are systematically wiping out all local culture. It’s more like the tribes are viewing and interpreting Roman ways through their own particular filter and taking advantage of what Rome has to offer. There’s alliance here, but also a simmering tension. There’s dry tinder under everyone’s feet, just waiting to flame into rebellion. All it takes is someone lighting a match.
From what we know, the Iceni are a relatively wealthy people: they’ve been minting coins for nearly a century. Tacitus tells us that Boudicca was born into royalty, so she’s probably one of the Iceni’s richer members, and might see herself as someone born to rule. She’s smart, too. Cassius Dio says, in one humdinger of a backhanded compliment, that she is “possessed of greater intelligence than often belongs to women.”
The Iceni are ruled by a king named Prasutagus, who is Boudicca’s husband. Prasutagus is firmly a Roman ally. Remember earlier, when some Iceni broke off and fought Roman occupation? Well, it doesn’t seem that Prasutagus was involved. He might even become king after the fighting, BECAUSE he doesn’t join in. It’s hard to know how far his loyalty to, and trust in, the Roman occupiers extends. But it’s clear that he works hard to walk the line between being true to his people and keeping Rome happy. Boudicca and her two daughters likely see Rome as their friend...or at least as a frenemy.
But then Prasutagus dies. And in his will, as in life, he tries to keep everyone happy. He leaves half of his kingdom to the current emperor, Nero. Ugh, Nero. But he leaves the other half to his daughters, with Boudicca to serve as regent until her daughters are old enough to rule. Prasutagus has been a good client king: surely Rome will honor his wishes. But it turns out that they’ll do no such thing. Under Roman law, when a client king dies, his lands automatically go to the Empire. And they aren’t about to let a couple of women rule what’s theirs.
Catus Decianus, Rome’s procurator in Britannia, is tasked with taking Prasutagus’ land for Rome. But he does more than that: he sends soldiers into their settlement to take his personal wealth, and so much more. Imagine it: Boudicca looking up at the sound of boots and hoofbeats. Dread filling her heart when she hears the first screams. Tacitus says that all Prasutagus owns, all Boudicca owns, as being “plundered by centurions, his house by slaves, as if they were the spoils of war.” And then they tie Boudicca up, right there for all to see, and whip her bloody. Between one painful lash and the next, she sees soldiers drag off her daughters. Her daughters, taken by the men who are supposed to be their allies. And she can do nothing but watch, helpless, and rage.
Atrocities performed, the Romans leave, believing Boudicca bowed, bent, and broken. But they’ve lit a fire in her that nothing but their blood can put out. Before long, she’s rallied the Iceni, readying them to go to war. The neighboring Trinovantes show up, too. More and more people, sick of Rome’s tyranny, rally around her. And at no point in this gathering of like-minded people does a man step up and try to take the spotlight from Boudicca. As if they know that she’s the one to unite and focus them all.
And then she steps in front of some 120,000 people. Looking out into the seething crowd, she makes her case for war. We don’t know what she actually says in this moment. But Cassius Dio attributes to her these stirring words: “[A]lthough some among you may previously, through ignorance of which was better, have been deceived by the alluring promises of the Romans...you have learned how great a mistake you made in preferring an imported despotism to your ancestral mode of life, and you have come to realize how much better is poverty with no master than wealth with slavery. [L]et us, I say, do our duty while we still remember what freedom is, that we may leave to our children not only its appellation but also its reality. For if we utterly forget the happy state in which we were born and bred, what, pray, will they do, reared in bondage?”
We have only one description of what Boudicca looks like, also from Cassius Dio. He gives us an awe-inspiring sight. “In stature she was very tall, in appearance most terrifying, in the glance of her eye most fierce, and her voice was harsh.” She wears a tunic and a cape held in place by a brooch, as well as a golden torque around her neck - a symbol of power. A great mass of red hair tumbles down to her hips. “She grasped a spear,” Dio says, “to aid her in terrifying all beholders.” As a factual representation, this description should be given some serious side eye. But it’s a wonderful image: this woman, proud and strong and fearsome, stirring tens of thousands to avenge the wrongs done against them. To fight for independence at all costs.
Cassius Dio says that she asks the gods whether or not their cause is righteous, loosing a hare from the folds of her dress to see which way it runs. You can imagine Boudicca waiting, breath held, to see which direction it hops in. A cheer goes up: the gods are with them. It’s time to climb onto her chariot and ride.
Let’s jump on Boudicca’s chariot and ride.
If you like the feel of this map, check out the map of the Roman Empire over on my Etsy shop (see above).
She and her daughters lead her rebel band down to Camulodunum. It’s a potent symbolic choice. This is where Claudius accepted the surrender of British kings back in 43. It started out as Rome’s main military base, but it’s since been turned into a colony, full of Roman military families. A massive temple was built there to honor the now-deceased Claudius, a gilded testament to his conquest. And Boudicca’s about to burn it to the ground. The town has no defensive wall, no ditches, no fences. The veterans who live there are old, and there’s barely any real military force. The Roman governor of Britannia is on the other side of the island, putting down an uprising on the island of Mona, so he can’t help them. So a few terrified colonists run to Catus Decianus. He sends 200 soldiers to help them, but 200 men against some 120,000? You can imagine how that’s going to turn out. The Ninth Legion also catches wind and heads to Camulodunum, but they can’t stop Boudicca’s forces. They’re about to sack Camulodunum with a vengeance, and Catus Decianus will flee to Gaul in shame.
The colonists can do little but hide in the temple and hope that Boudicca will give up and leave them. Sadly for them, she isn’t the type to throw in the towel. Over a two-day siege, the temple is destroyed, and all those within it. Even Claudius’ bronze head is decapitated, such is the force of their ire. “Unguarded and unprepared,” Tacitus tells us, “they were taken by surprise...The colony was laid waste with fire and sword.” Across all the cities Boudicca attacks, archeologists will find a thick layer of ash from this period. Some call it the Boudiccan Layer. Full of molten glass, burned coins, broken roof tiles, and charred bits of pottery, it’s a mark so profound that thousands of years won’t be able to wash it away. This isn’t just retaliation: it’s a reckoning. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Claudius’ severed head: just one casualty of Boudicca’s rampage.
This head from Camulodunum was lopped off its statue, and then found in a nearby river in 1907, nearly 40 miles away. Courtesy of the British Museum.
From there, they march southwest, toward Londinium. It’s one of Rome’s most important urban centers in Britannia, which makes it a prime target for Boudicca’s wrath.
Hearing about Camulodunum, governor Gaius Suetonius Paulinus races over, hoping to stop her. But when he learns how huge her forces are, he decides that maybe this isn’t the right time to strike. They leave this city of 9,000 Romans to Boudicca, and she isn’t one for mercy. Most of the citizens flee. Those who won’t or can’t are killed, the city burned. And still,she keeps going, arriving in nearby Verulamium. This isn’t a Roman settlement, but one built by locals - with Roman support. If you aren’t with the revolt, then you’re against it. You’ve made your bed as far as Boudicca’s concerned.
Tacitus tells us that some 70,000 people are killed at Londinium and Verulamium. Cassius Dio describes in grisly detail how Boudicca’s forces take their revenge. “They hung up naked the noblest and most distinguished women and then cut off their breasts and sewed them to their mouths, in order to make the victims appear to be eating them; afterwards they impaled the women on sharp skewers run lengthwise through the entire body.” A horrifying echo of the rape that Boudicca’s daughters endured. They did this while feasting, apparently, and engaging in all sorts of “wanton behavior.” Again, I find this whole accounting deeply suspect, but it’s possible. War in the ancient world’s an ugly thing.
Gaius Suetonius Paulinus knows has to get a handle on this situation. So he picks a valley backed by woodlands as the place he’ll meet Boudicca, with a force of around 10,000 men. We don’t know exactly where this valley is, but it’s somewhere in the Midlands, along a Roman road known as Watling Street. Boudicca’s forces pull up and make camp. They must be a sight, in all their multitude. And they’re confident enough of their victory that they’ve brought their wives and families along, pulling their wagons into a semicircle so they can watch the action. Butter that popcorn, we’ll be right back!
The night before battle, Boudicca rides her chariot along the lines of fighters, offering them a stirring speech. Again, we don’t know what she says, but Tacitus gives us something to chew on:
“It is not as a woman descended from noble ancestry, but as one of the people that I am avenging lost freedom, my scourged body, the outraged chastity of my daughters..on this spot we must either conquer, or die with glory. There is no alternative. This is a woman’s resolve: the men, if they please, may live and be slaves.”
And so the battle begins. Organized into their tribes, the British rush up to the Roman forces. They have swords meant for close fighting, but most have little armor, and nothing to make a dent in their enemy from a distance. The Romans throw their spears, holding them back. Boudicca has the numbers, but her forces aren’t trained warriors - at least not in the same way as the Roman legions - and until now, they haven’t had to face a Roman army head on. When they’ve exhausted themselves against the Roman front lines, that’s when the legions move in. They push back Boudicca’s force, right into the circle of wagons. Trapped, with nowhere left to run. We can imagine Boudicca’s dawning realization: she’s going to lose the battle, and there will be no mercy. Perhaps she looks to her daughters, or to the heavens. Perhaps she only curses the Romans and fights for all she’s worth.
The Romans kill everyone: rebels, wifely spectators, children, even pack animals. Apparently some 80,000 Britons are killed. And Boudicca? We don’t know what happens to her, or her daughters. Perhaps she rushes into the fighting and meets the same fate as the rest. Tacitus suggests she poisons herself, as Cleopatra did, to avoid capture. Cassius Dio says she falls ill and dies.
Perhaps to lose was always her destiny. She couldn’t stop the Empire from taking over her world. But before she left this world, Boudicca struck true fear into the hearts of the Romans. She fought back against them, and for a while she WON. Her remains have never been found, but her name has lingered on the air. When Tacitus’s writings are uncovered in the 16th century, she’s regarded as a queen and savior, compared to reigning queen Elizabeth I. She’s remained a potent symbol of independence, and fierceness. A woman who refused to be cowed.
ZENOBIA
A woman steps up onto a rooftop, looking down at thousands of soldiers arrayed on the sand. Some are hers: a force her husband built, and that she harnessed to build herself an Empire. Her own will and cunning have made her augusta of the eastern Roman world. But now they face down the infamous Roman army. The might of 70,000 soldiers, and an emperor who wants to take what she has won away. It will be an ugly fight, she knows, but this battle is everything. It will decide the fate of her empire, her son, and herself. Zenobia raises her arm and watches two armies throw themselves at each other. This queen of the desert knows it’s a gamble. But she won’t lose her diadem without a fight.
If you like this collage of the great Zenobia (which features a marble statue of her by Harriet Hosmer), you can get it as an art print or on greeting cards from The Exploress Etsy shop.
Zenobia doesn’t rebel against the Empire for revenge, or for freedom. She does it because she wants to rule. And she pulls off what many hardened warriors tried and failed to: she conquers a third of the Empire. What brings her to this place, and this battle? How does she become a warrior queen risking it all?
To learn that, we have to touch down in her home city of Palmyra. Perched at the edge of the Syrian Desert, about 130 miles northeast of modern-day Damascus, this palm-fringed oasis is the gateway between the Roman and the Persian Empires. And it’s a key stop along a major caravan route - an economic link between West and East. It’s a unique and self-contained city, like ancient Athens: a kind of city-state power unto itself.
Trade is at the center of life here. Money and goods flow in here from east and west every day. You can see it everywhere you look: bronze statues glinting in the sun, rich tapestries hanging from windows, in the Roman-style buildings and baths, and the fountains full of gushing water brought up from underground pipes. This isn’t a dusty frontier town. Called the “pearl of the desert,” it’s well known for its magnificence. And there’s plenty of diversity here, too. You’ll see people from all over mixing and mingling along the colonnade that runs through the city, selling and buying their wares. You’ll see Greco-Roman touches, as Palmyra is always at the height of what’s fashionable, but also plenty of Arabic influence. Greek is spoken by the wealthy, but so is Aramaic. The Temple of Bel might look like a Roman temple, but the god worshipped inside is not part of that pantheon. The temple itself, on closer inspection, is also unique to Palmyra: with windows, like a private house, and a terrace that people sit out and feast on. Like in ancient Egypt, the god actually lives there.
You’ll see Greek and Roman dress, but also outfits that no one in Rome would ever wear. Men don clothes are that stitched, not pinned, including wide pants like the Persians. Noble merchants wear daggers at their hips, despite the fact that such a thing is prohibited elsewhere in the Empire. Women wear tunics and cloaks that only cover their hair - not their faces. Some of them even wear billowing pantaloons. Oh my.
Palmyra has been a Roman province since Tiberius’ time, and it seems as if the Palmyrenes are pretty fine with that. This is not a people trying to shake off the yoke of their Roman oppressors. In some ways, they see themselves as Roman as well. Decades ago, changes in Roman law made it so that Palyrenes are considered citizens of the Roman Empire. Zenobia will grow up seeing herself as one of them. They build an agora and an amphitheater; they worship at the imperial cult. They adopt Roman names, like Julia, in honor of empress Julia Domna, who died a few decades before Zenobia’s born. But they’re also proud of their own culture, religion, language, and nomadic roots. And don’t forget, Palmyra's quite far away from Rome proper. That distance, and its economic importance, has helped it gain a liberal amount of autonomy. They run their own affairs, and in their own way.
There are certain expectations for Roman citizens. The Palmyrenes will pax taxes and abide by the Empire’s rules. But there isn’t much of a military presence in terms of Roman legions. It’s governed by a civic council that consists of tribal elites, usually from Palmyra’s most distinguished families. They pass laws and manage their own troops, too. Their bow-and-arrow-wielding cavalry is supposed to fight on the Empire’s behalf, but mostly they protect the city from any who might try to invade it. And so they gain experience, both as fighters and commanders. The Romans might just come to regret this later.
The people with the power in Palmyra are the ones who manage the caravan trade. Because this isn’t just a stop along the Silk Road: it’s home to the people who help traders navigate the desert, providing protection from local raiders and knowledge in local languages and customs. To control such operations takes a head for business, an emissary’s cunning, and a splash of a warlord’s strength. Such merchant magnates have influence, political and economic, and can raise a fighting force without breaking a sweat.
Now let’s turn our gazes to Zenobia. Born around 240, we know very little with certainty about the woman herself. Much of what we know comes from Greek historian Zosimus, Byzantine scholar Zonaras, and Arab historian Al-Tabari, all of whom lived centuries after Zenobia’s time. There’s also the Historia Augusta, a collection of Roman biographies that we now know is a sketchy source. It tells us that Zenobia will claim to be a descendant of Cleopatra. A fabulous notion, but pretty unlikely.
Zenobia: Let’s agree to disagree.
It’s more likely she’s of Arab descent, born and raised as part of a rich and influential Palmyrene family. We don’t know much about her childhood, but we get the sense she gets a decent education. It makes sense, for a wealthy girl in this cosmopolitan place. 18th-century British historian Edward Gibbon, working from Roman sources, tells us: “Zenobia is perhaps the only female whose superior genius broke through the servile indolence imposed on her sex...Her manly understanding was strengthened and adorned by study.” Thanks, I guess? She’s great at languages: Aramaic, Greek, Egyptian, and even some Latin. Like Cleopatra, she grows up knowing how to command a room, and knows that leading is easier if you speak many tongues. Al-Tabari says that at an early age she’s put in charge of some flocks and some shepherds, which teaches her how to rule over men. He also says she grows up riding horses: and camels, of course, which is a fun fact we’ll return to later. Al-Tabari paints a picture of a leader famous for her toughness and stamina. She’ll march with her troops over long distances, is a pro at wild game hunting, and can outdrink just about anyone around the late night campfire. But she’s not that mighty general quite yet.
When she’s still in her teens, Zenobia marries a man named Septimius Odaenathus, and he’s kind of a big deal. By the 250s, he’s Palmyra’s ruling dynast, given senatorial rank amongst the Romans. We’re not exactly sure what his official role is in the local government, but he’s clearly very important: wealthy, distinguished, and poised to offer Zenobia a lot of influence. He’s also a LOT older than she is...but then, this is the ancient world, and what else is new? Pretty much everything about their marriage, even the number of children they have, is up for debate. Is it a love match, or an alliance between families? Probably the latter, given the huge disparity in their ages and their lofty positions. One fact that pops up a lot in the sources is Zenobia’s strong stance on chastity. She believes that sex should only be for procreation, and she refuses to sleep with Odenaethus except for the purposes of babymaking. Sucks for him. They have a son together, Wahballat, and likely a few daughters. But he already has a son, Hairan (sometimes called Herodes) from a previous marriage; he’s probably the same age, or even older, than Zenobia. So that has the potential to be...awkward.
It’s hard to know if Zenobia’s treated as an equal in her husband’s business dealings and political machinations, but given what a force she’ll prove to be - and that when her husband goes out on campaign, she often joins him - I wouldn’t be surprised to find he sees her as a partner in crime. Status for women is different in Palmyra. They can own and manage property, and they can become legal guardians of both children and households. They can handle their own money and get involved in government. She has every reason to believe that when she speaks, men will listen. It seems she’s got a head for finance as well. Not one, but two sources from the ancient world say that she “preserved her treasure beyond the tendency for a woman” and “exercised the judgement of a man.” Can’t we just say how great she is without talking about how she doesn’t have man parts? But it’s clear that Zenobia’s a woman on the rise.
Meanwhile, over in Rome, the Empire isn’t the cohesive powerhouse we saw under Livia and Augustus. It’s not even the insular, backstabby situation we saw during Agrippina the Younger’s time. No: this Rome’s a disorganized mess. At this time, the Empire has gotten as big as it’s ever going to get - so big, in fact, that it’s become unwieldy. Rome’s emperors are discovering that it’s nearly impossible to control and manage a vast Empire full of disparate, and sometimes embittered, people. Rebellions are cropping up left and right. It turns out that trying to control the regions you’ve conquered is like playing a never ending game of Whack-a-Mole.
And since Boudicca’s time, politics in Rome have gotten way more dysfunctional. No, really: even MORE dysfunctional. Guess how many emperors Rome has seen by the time Zenobia starts making a name for herself? Well, it depends whose list of emperors you look at, but let’s call it more than ten. Rome has moved away from its dynastic families, where the emperor’s seat is handed down from father to a sometimes blood related, and sometimes not, son, to a period where that seat is often filled by conquest. Historians call them “barracks emperors”: men chosen by their troops, usually after they’ve assassinated whoever is currently ruling. A few years before Zenobia’s born, emperor Alexander Severus is assassinated by his own troops and replaced by another guy, Maximus Thrax. From there, it’s a rotating door of emperors, some of whom hold onto power for so short a time that some historians don’t count them. Sometimes there’s more than one emperor at a time, just to confuse things. According to a list compiled by Pamela Toler, author of the wonderful book Women Warriors, Zenobia will see some 30 emperors in her lifetime. Not exactly a beacon of stability and strength.
We also see emperors start to arise not from Rome itself, but well outside it. Philip the Arab, who becomes emperor a few years after Zenobia is born, is from a city not all that far from Palmyra. So no wonder she’ll one day look at the hot mess that is Rome and think she’s better equipped to rule it.
In 260, the dysfunction reaches a whole new level when the Persians capture emperor Valerian in battle. Some say the Persian king Shapur I periodically uses him as a footstool for climbing up onto his noble steed. He’s held as a prisoner there until he dies. This is one of Rome’s worst nightmares, and also a major embarrassment. Zenobia and her husband look at each other and wonder what they’re bowing down to Rome for. They keep paying taxes, and what exactly are they getting for them? Nothing but an Empire who keeps stirring up trouble with their neighbors, Parthia and Persia, messing with trade routes and compromising their economy. I imagine Zenobia and Odenaethus staying up into the night, just dreaming out loud about their futures. Wouldn’t it be better if a strong, local power couple ran things in Palmyra?
ZENOBIA: Now that is the best idea I’ve had all day.
go ahead, then. Bow down.
Queen Zenobia Addressing Her Soldiers by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, 1725, courtesy of National Gallery of Art
After defeating Valerian, the Persians turn their conquering sights on Palmyra, but Odaenathus is ready. He breaks through the Persian lines and forces them to retreat. Before anyone quite knows what’s happening, he’s recaptured most of the Roman land the Persians took. This ambitious desert warlord has just made himself the ruler of the Roman east. One inscription from Palmyra calls him the “king of kings,” and it seems as if everyone around is ready to bow down to him. And why not? He seems a lot more fit to run things than any of those faraway Roman idiots. But Odenaethus is quick to point out that everything he’s doing is FOR Rome - he’s like, you know, ruling kind of their representative? No rebellion going on here! And given what a mess things are over in Rome proper, Valerian’s son, and the current emperor, Gallienus, can’t do much but smile and nod along. In the interest of making this all look like it was his idea, Gallienus even gives Odenathus further powers, officially making him general of the East. Odenaethus and his eldest son, Hairan, are now running a huge swathe of Roman territory. But we can assume that Zenobia has a huge part to play as well. The family spends this time creating a golden age in Palmyra: one that’s safe and well defended, but also highly cultured. Their circle is full of scholars and lively conversation. A Greek philosopher named Cassius Longinus becomes Zenobia’s tutor. Things are looking pretty sweet in her world.
Then, in 267, there’s a violent shift within it. Odeneathus and his eldest son die untimely, and rather suspicious, deaths. Who kills them, and why? Some sources suggest that his nephew kills them after a fight following a group hunting trip. Others say Zenobia is in on the plot, but later historians have pretty much fully dismissed the idea. To me, it sounds like ancient male writers trotting out their favorite trope: the jealous, covetous wife. We heard this exact same tale about Olympias when her husband died; an ambitious woman is an easy one to blame. But it’s easy to believe that there are plenty of people around Odenaethus who see how much power he’s accrued and want him taken out of play. And like with Olympias, I don’t see a lot of impetus for Zenobia to kill her husband. The stepson could be a problem for her own son, sure, but why kill dad when she knows it will upset the world they’ve built together? We don’t know, but two things are clear. Odenathus and his eldest son have died under suspicious circumstances, and someone’s about to step into their Persian-style heeled boots and rock them straight to greatness.
ZENOBIA: Look out, world, because Here. I. Come.
But to hold onto power, Zenobia has to move swiftly. Her son, Wahballat, is too young to rule for now, so she pulls a Hatshepsut and has herself declared regent. She must be smart, persuasive, well respected, and know how to command a room, because when she starts making moves, she does it with the army behind her. Her husband’s main generals, Zabdas and Zabbai, become her key advisors as she starts making some serious power plays. She seizes control of more territories, then she rules like a pro, fostering religious tolerance and cultivating peace in her lands. I mean, someone’s got to. Meanwhile, over in Rome, emperor Gallienus is murdered, the next guy dies of a so-called pestilence about 18 months later, and, well, they don’t have the bandwidth to worry about some queen out to the East. Besides, Zenobia is quick to make clear: she isn’t rebelling against Rome. Like her husband before her, she’s simply ruling on BEHALF of Rome. But as time goes on, it’s clear to everyone around her that she is running what looks increasingly like its very own empire. Encouraged by her advisors, Zenobia starts wondering what ELSE she might achieve.
ZENOBIA: “Someone’s got to run things on this side of the Mediterranean. Why shouldn’t it be me?”
We don’t know why she decides to go on the march to expand her territory. Maybe she’s trying to make sure Palmyra stays powerful. Maybe she’s done playing client queen and ready to become an empress herself. But while Rome is busy napping, she sends her forces all the way down into Egypt and seizes Alexandria: the same city that Octavian once ripped out of Cleopatra’s fingers. By 270 CE, Zenobia’s taken control of the entire country: its wealth, its grain...all its riches. Daaaaamn, girl. It’s important to note that even THIS can be seen as a move made in Rome’s best interest. Egypt’s Roman governor is away, fighting against an Egyptian rebel who’s revolting against Rome’s continued presence. Zenobia’s troops are there to, you know, watch over Egypt for him.
It’s safe to say that Rome is unimpressed. “But I’m doing it for my SON,” she says for the millionth time. “And my son is doing it for you. You know, for Rome. It’s not our fault you’re terrible at ruling. SOMEONE had to step in and tidy up!”
She’s walking a very fine line. She doesn't want to provoke Rome to gather their forces and attack her, but she also wants to get to a point where she can truly break free of their control. So she has coins minted with her son on one side and the new emperor Aurelian on the other, declaring them joint rulers of Egypt. She includes his name on official correspondence. But she also conducts trade agreements and adds territories to her empire as it suits her. Zenobia gets to administrative work, entering into talks with the Levant and Asia Minor, adding them to her growing holdings. By 271, she controls much of modern-day Syria, Turkey, Jordan, and Egypt. Zenobia is in command of a third of the Roman Empire. Except it’s now the Palmyrene Empire. She’s pulled off a wild, ambitious gambit that few others have tried, and no others have achieved.
And still, Emperor Aurelian is busy fighting the Goths and taking care of revolts closer to home, so he’s distracted. But once things finally settle down at the end of 271, he gathers his troops and gets ready to march. Instead of backing down, Zenobia doubles down, having her and her son declared augustus and augusta. She’s done pretending to be anything other than a ruler, and she’s willing to fight for all she’s won.
Aurelian carves a path through Asia Minor, destroying any town declaring loyalty to Zenobia. Those who surrender are spared, and so more cities start throwing up their hands. Soon there’s very little between Zenobia’s troops and a Roman army 70,000 strong. They turn and make a stand at Immae. When the Romans seem to be retreating, they think they have a chance, but then Aurelian’s like, “Siiiike! We’re NOT retreating at all, suckas!” and suddenly they’re facing a full-on assault. So Zenobia and her forces retreat and regroup at Antioch. This is the point when some might contemplate giving in. But instead, Zenobia and her general, Zabdas, pull a fast one. They tell everyone that the Palmyreans won the battle, dress a soldier up to look like Aurelian, and parade him through the streets to seal the ruse. Hooray! Once the victory party’s in full swing, they slip quietly away, to nearby Emesa. But Aurelian’s legions aren’t fooled, and they aren’t far behind.
Zenobia calls in what’s left of her army and anyone else willing to fight. She knows she needs to beat the Romans before they get any closer to home. Again, she makes a stand with her forces. The Romans try to fake Zenobia out again, but she isn’t falling for that trick a second time. It also looks as if the Palmyrenes might prevail. But then their lines start buckling, folding in as the legions beat against them, advance after merciless advance. We can imagine Zenobia, watching from some sand-crusted rampart as most of her army is slaughtered. There’s nothing left but to retreat to her city in the sand.
Aurelian follows her, parking outside Palmyra and starting a blockade to keep supplies out of the city. It’s a rich city, and in his eyes a Roman city, that he doesn’t want to sack. At first, Zenobia thinks her archers and cavalry can repel them, or the harsh conditions. As historian Edward Gibbon paints it, "She retired within the walls of her capital, made every preparation for a vigorous resistance, and declared, with the intrepidity of a heroine, that the last moment of her reign and of her life should be the same." She thinks maybe the Persians will come to her rescue, and all she has to do is wait it out. But soon it’s clear that Aurelian’s not going anywhere. We don’t know if Zenobia tries to broker an agreement with him, or if letters ever pass between their camps. The Historia Augusta gives us some, but it’s likely they’re a fiction. Even so, I like the flavor of this one Zenobia supposedly sends: “...You demand my surrender as though you were not aware that Cleopatra preferred to die a queen rather than remain alive, however high her rank.”
Tough talk aside, things are growing dire in Palmyra. Zenobia is forced to confront the fact that there’s no way she can win. Rumor has it that she tries to flee the city by camel - specifically by female camel, as they’re supposedly faster than male ones. She heads toward the Euphrates River, but the Augustan History says she’s captured before she can cross it. Her city surrenders, and she and her son are put on trial for what are now being called their crimes. It’s said she breaks down, then, blaming the whole mess on bad advice from her inner circle. Some of them are put to the sword. But there’s no way to talk her way out of this disaster. Zenobia, in chains before the emperor, must know she’s just lost the ultimate game.
What happens next depends on who you listen to. Greek historian Zosimus tells us that she and her son drown in the Bosphorus during their transport back to Rome. But he also says that Zenobia is put on trial again in Rome, acquitted, and allowed to live out her days as some man’s matrona, though I have trouble imagining her kicking back in some villa and deciding she’s had enough of power and autonomy. The Historia Augusta, with classic drama, tells us that Aurelian takes her back to Rome and does what Octavian longed to do to Cleopatra: parades her through the streets in golden chains, and then has her beheaded. But others say she’s pardoned and is given a villa. Byzantine scholar Zonaras also has her marrying a Roman husband, with Aurelian marrying one of her daughters. Is it just me, or does this sound like Roman writers wanting to posthumously tame a woman they find dangerous? Other, Arab sources say she commits suicide rather than endure such humiliation. Al-Tabari has her on a totally different adventure, in which she murders a tribal chief on their wedding night, his nephew chases her, and she flees on her trusty camel. When she can’t get away, she either kills herself or is executed. Her true end is lost to the shifting sands of time.
There’s a wonderful statue of Zenobia, carved in 1859, that shows her in those golden chains. It was carved by a woman named Harriet Hosmer. How fitting that some male sculptors at the time thought no woman could ever have carved such a colossal wonder. But she did, and in doing so gave Zenobia a gaze that’s hard to look away from: regal, strong, and bold, with her head held high even in her darkest moments. “I have tried to make her too proud to exhibit passion or emotion of any kind,” Hosmer said. “Not subdued, though a prisoner; but calm, grand, and strong within herself.” A woman who could never look down in shame at wanting to rule, and rule well.
MUSIC
“Hidden Past” by Kevin MacLeod
Music from Epidemic Sound: “Desert Wind” and “Rain Dance” (Jon Algar), “Journey Through the Desert” (Trace Way), “The Norman Kings” and “A Celtic Blessing” (Bonnie Grace), “Desert Nights” (Mike Franklyn).
All other music is from Storyblocks.com
VOICE ACTORS
Leanne Rivers = Boudicca
Veronica Washington-Ramos = Zenobia
Jordon (aka couponkid) = Caratacus + Edward Gibbon
Paul Gablonski = assorted Roman historians
John Armstrong = Nero, Caligula, and Aurelian
Jim di Bartolo = Cassius Dio
Shawn Ennis at Ink and Ash podcast = Tacitus