Labyrinths have always been a
source of fascination to me. None more so than the famous lair of the Minotaur in
ancient Crete. According to Greek myth, this bewildering structure was designed
by the inventor Daedalus (father of the doomed Icarus) at the behest of King
Minos. The maze was built in the city of Knossos to hold the half man/half bull
monster to whom 7 youths and 7 maidens were sacrificed each year as tribute
owed by the Athenian King Aegeus to Minos for killing the Cretan king’s son.
The minotaur was ultimately slain by Aegeus’ son, Theseus, who was sent as one
of the sacrificial youths to Knossos. Minos’ daughter, Ariadne, fell in love
with the prince and assisted him to kill the monster and then escape the
labyrinth by giving him a ball of thread to enable him to retrace his path.
A seven course single path
design known as ‘unicursal’ became associated with the labyrinth on Cretan
coins as early as 430 BC, and became common as a visual depiction of the
legendary labyrinth from Roman times onwards. In later religious tradition, large
labyrinth designs set into floors were walked and used for private meditation
or for therapeutic purposes based on the concept of a pilgrimage from the entrance
to the centre where God awaits. In comparison, a maze is a complex pattern with
branches and dead ends known as ‘multicursal’ which require a series of choices
to be made in order to safely navigate. Medieval garden hedges are a fine
example of these.
In the ancient world, the feat
of escaping a labyrinth was associated with a triumph of life over death. In
some cases, navigating one was seen as a form of initiation where a boy was
required to enter as a child and emerge as a man after surviving danger. One
such initiation ritual was known as ‘The City of Troy’ in Rome and Etruria.
The City of Troy was a
reference to the labyrinth of Crete. Yet what was the connection between the
legendary cities of Troy and Knossos? An explanation comes from both
archaeological evidence and the poetry of the Roman poet, Vergil.
Tragliatella Vase |
In his great epic, The Aeneid,
the Roman poet Vergil tells of the wanderings of Aeneas, the son of Anchises
and Venus, following the fall of Troy. After fighting to defend the besieged
city, Aeneas escaped carrying his father on his shoulders while leading his young
son Ascanius (who later came to be called Iulus) to safety. According to Roman
tradition, during the funeral games for his grandfather, Ascanius took part in a
processional parade or dance called the Game of Troy (Lusus Trojae) while mounted
on a horse given to him by the Carthaginian queen Dido. The young prince and
his companions performed a complex weaving pattern by riding between and around
each other as though threading their way through a labyrinth. Vergil drew a
comparison between the tortuous convolutions of the rite to the twisting
pathways within the Minotaur’s den at Knossos. He also referred to the
manoeuvres of the game as mimicking the ‘Crane Dance’ performed by the
youths Theseus saved from the Minotaur. From Vergil’s description it
is clear that completing the game involved great skill to avoid injury or
death.
The column split apart
As files in the three squadrons all in line
Turned away, cantering left and right; recalled
They wheeled and dipped their lances for a charge.
They entered then on parades and counter-parades,
The two detachments, matched in the arena,
Winding in and out of one another,
And whipped into sham cavalry skirmishes
By baring backs in flight, then whirling round
With leveled points, then patching up a truce
And riding side by side. So intricate
In ancient times on mountainous Crete they say
The Labyrinth, between walls in the dark,
Ran criss-cross a bewildering thousand ways
Devised by guile, a maze insoluable,
Breaking down every clue to the way out.
So intricate the drill of Trojan boys
Who wove the patterns of their prancing horses,
Figured, in sport, retreats and skirmishes
As files in the three squadrons all in line
Turned away, cantering left and right; recalled
They wheeled and dipped their lances for a charge.
They entered then on parades and counter-parades,
The two detachments, matched in the arena,
Winding in and out of one another,
And whipped into sham cavalry skirmishes
By baring backs in flight, then whirling round
With leveled points, then patching up a truce
And riding side by side. So intricate
In ancient times on mountainous Crete they say
The Labyrinth, between walls in the dark,
Ran criss-cross a bewildering thousand ways
Devised by guile, a maze insoluable,
Breaking down every clue to the way out.
So intricate the drill of Trojan boys
Who wove the patterns of their prancing horses,
Figured, in sport, retreats and skirmishes
(Aeneid, V. 5.580–593
Translation by Robert Fitzgerald)
Vergil conjured the image of
the Lusus Trojae when writing in the 1st century CE, but there is
archaeological evidence of its existence dating from the late C7th BCE. The Tragliatella
Vase discovered near the Etruscan city of Caere (modern Cerveteri) depicts two
horsemen emerging from a spiral marked with the word ‘Truia’. A line of
marching warriors is also displayed on the wine jug which seems to suggest that
the vase portrays a military ceremony similar to the one of legend. As the
Romans were heavily influenced by the Etruscans, it is plausible that the
equestrian ceremony that was later referred to by Vergil was in fact an
Etruscan tradition.
Detail Tragliatella Vase City of Troy design |
The Game of Troy was
‘revived’ by Julius Caesar who claimed to be a descendant of Iulus (Ascanius)
and was performed by the young sons of high ranking families. It was not
associated with any particular religious festival and was conducted at funeral
games and in military triumphs. Suetonius and Tacitus also wrote of the Lusus
Trojae which appears to have become more of a military review by the time of
Nero.
With my love of all things
Etruscan, I found the etchings on the humble Tragliatella Vase intriguing
enough to inspire me to include an episode in my book The Golden Dice: A Tale
of Ancient Rome involving the Troy Game. Yet what strikes me most about the Lusus Trojae is how legend, poetry and history are intertwined and held fast
by a strong thread from two epic stories that inspired three great civilisations:
Etruria, Greece and Rome.
Elisabeth Storrs is the author of the Tales of Ancient Rome
saga. Learn more at www.elisabethstorrs.com
Images are courtesy Wikimedia Commons
2 comments:
Always loved going to Longleat park and running around like a wild thing safe in the maze, always getting lost and being beaten to the middle and finish by my little brother! but running through endless seeming hedges over my head height, turning left or right or just round in circles, always trying to get to the bridges and the towers and never managing to get to them all. Many years later I found out my parents could have bought me a map, but they never would spend 'wasted' money on things and while I would have bought it they didn't tell me it was available. I still have a love of mazes and puzzles!
Sounds like your parents figured a good way to keep the kids occupied even though they might have needed to send out a search party after having a break:) Longleat Park sounds amazing.
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