Little Boots

"The naming culture of Roman Empire is a bit complicated, to say the least..."

Their naming convention varied between boys and girls, reflecting the inequality where males were favored more.

This was the way of that time...

However, this did not mean that most women accepted it without question. No. Of course not.

But we shall leave that for now... Now, let me start again...

In Roman Empire, when a baby boy was born, he was given a praenomen, or birth name.

If he was born into a noble or imperial family, he would also receive additional names to reflect his family connections.

This was called the nomen, or family name.

While cognomen was the identifier of his family branch.

Together, these three were referred to as the tria nomina.

They add these names to emulate past predecessors, in the hopes for these children, specifically the boys, to grow, mirroring the same respect and power that their ancestors once had.

This also applied if he was adopted into a new family.

In contrast, girls typically received only one personal name, often a feminine version of a family name or a name that reflected their family's heritage.

Unless they were adopted or married into a new family, girls do not typically receive additional names...

"Then here comes the Julio-Claudian dynasty..."

The current ruling family, also known as the imperial family, produced the former emperor, who later adopted the current emperor.

Originated from two families that merged through marriage and alliance—the Julii and Claudii family...

And aside from the Julio-Claudian dynasty, there are also other patrician (means noble) families that held a significant amount of power and influence.

Albeit not as powerful as the current ruling family.

They are known as the ten gentes (means patrician)—including the Julii-Claudii family that has now become one.

These noble families, shaped Roman politics, society, and culture through their complex web of relationships, alliances, and competitions for power.

"And in this setup, the future third emperor of Rome, Gaius Germanicus, was born.."

He became Gaius Julius Caesar Germanicus later on; the two added names came from his adoption into the Julii-Claudii family through his grandfather.

Gaius was his praenomen, Julius Caesar was his nomen, and Germanicus was his cognomen.

Making him now also a part of the imperial family. One of the adoptive grandson of the reigning emperor.

And in the future, another name will be added when he rises from the throne. Reserved especially for those who sat in power.

But that story is for another day..

For now, he is Gaius Julius Caesar Germanicus.

The third son of Germanicus—the Roman general, who is currently actively doing a revenge campaign in Germania.

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Agrippina, born Vipsania Julia Agrippina, was a woman of striking beauty and unwavering resolve.

Her blond near-white hair, always perfectly styled, framed sharp hazel eyes and a determined expression.

Though undeniably alluring, her strength lay in her devotion.

But don't let her elegant features and enticing beauty fool you.

She embodied the epitome of Roman motherhood, an idol to all women in Rome.

Her powerful lineage—her father, Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, a former advisor and friend of the former emperor, her husband, Germanicus Julius Caesar, and her step-grandfather, the revered former emperor—made her a proud woman.

This pride, however, never overshadowed her unwavering loyalty, as she consistently braved the arduous journey to Germania to support her husband's military campaign.

Thus making her a paragon of virtue and maternal commitment.

And so, even though Julia's first birthday was still months away—November—her youngest at the moment.

She prepared for a long journey with her son Gaius, whose fourth birthday was on the very last day of August, almost the last month of summer.

This was at the request of Germanicus himself, from her last visit to Vetera Castrum—the major Roman military camp he used for his Germania campaign—where she conceived Julia.

She then takes her son to her husband's camp in Germania, leaving their domus and her other children with her mother-in-law.

The caravan was small, consisting only of Agrippina and her youngest son, with selected slaves and guards, courtesy of her mother-in-law and father.

Fortunately, they encountered no danger, and their small group allowed them to travel swiftly.

First week of November, 16 AD. Vetera Castrum.

By the time they arrived at Vetera Castrum, it was mid-autumn.

Their journey to Germania had spanned three months, encompassing the last of summer, the boy's birthday, and the first half of autumn.

Cold wind whipped at little Gaius's face, the rough fabric of his miniature soldier's outfit—devised by his mother to please his father—scratched against his skin as he walked, looking around.

The Vetera Castrum, an important military camp that had been around since 12 BC, was a fortress that housed two Roman legions and was an important hub for trade, commerce, and cultural exchange.

It featured typical Roman architecture, with big defensive walls, gates, barracks, and administrative buildings, making it look like a small city.

As they moved through the bustling military camp, a rhythmic clang of metal and the scent of burning wood filled the air, accompanied by the growing murmur of voices.

The sounds and smells made the little boy's head spin.

Soldiers and their families were everywhere.

Young Gaius remembered that it was quite chilly. His little boots trudged on the rough pavement.

As they neared his father's barracks, the smells of wood smoke, different food aromas, and sweat became prominent, mixing with the autumn air.

The endless sounds of people chatting and soldiers training filled the air.

Soldiers bustled past him and his mother, their faces softening and escorted them to where his father is.

Some greeted them with nods of recognition, others openly gave him a glance.

Ruffling his hair.

Once they are outside Germanicus's tent, Agrippina suddenly crouched down and adjusted her son's clothes.

Then she murmured, "You have to look more like the son of Germanicus should.."

Once she's done, she gave him a once over and smile. "Let's go greet your father."

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His father welcomed them happily. Kissing Agrippina and lifting and hugging his son.

Their arrival brought a joyful mood to the Castrum (means camp), momentarily boosting the morale of the soldiers and their families, and establishing a sense of camaraderie.

The troops were pleased by the little boy and his little boots, treating him with happiness.

His presence lightened the camp's mood, a welcome effect in times of war.

Germanicus—the little boy's father—the general and the temporary commander of the camp, was in a jovial mood while holding his wife's waist.

He declared that they open the camp's Taberna—a stall where they sold wine or alcoholic beverages.

Once drunk, he boasted that his son, Gaius Julius Caesar Germanicus, was just like him at that age.

Making the soldiers drunkenly howl.

And as if to prove a point, he asked Agrippina to have his young son to sing by the campfire.

Agrippina urged her son, Gaius, while gently laughing at her husband's antics.

The bright young boy, already showing promise beyond his years, stepped forward to stand before the campfire.

Wearing a miniature soldier's outfit, he scanned the faces of the soldiers, like he was already old.

Mimicking what his father always did.

Then he took a deep breath and started to sing.

"As long as you're alive....

shine...

don't be sad at all...

life is short...

time asks for its due..."

The voice was like nothing they'd ever heard before—an ethereal, angelic tone that seemed to match the haunting melody of Seikilos Epitaph.

A song that was written for a loved one that has already passed.

A significant song to sing during the times of war against the Germanic tribes.

The soldiers erupted into applause, cheering and whistling.

While Germanicus laughed happily.

They then dubbed him "Caligula"—or "little boots"—in admiration of his performance while wearing miniature military boots, just like his father's.

A nickname that stuck, symbolizing the soldiers' drunken affection for the young Caligula and their recognition of his resemblance to his illustrious father, Germanicus.

That night, the young boy slept soundly. The crackling of the fire his lullaby.

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A few days later.. Agrippina, his mother, left him in the camp and went home.

As her spouse is already preparing for his raid on the Weser River.

Germanicus kisses his wife and embraced her, whispering in her ears, making his wife's face become crimson red.

And her husband a twinkle in his eyes.

Before departing, she fixes her son's hair and kiss him goodbye.

Leaving the young Caligula alone, save for one or two soldiers watching over him.

Excited about being left alone with his father, but also a bit shy.

But that was soon easily forgotten, as his little adventures in the camp earned him affection from the soldiers.

And he saw how his father was perceived by the people.

Widely admired for his virtuous character, dashing physique, and exceptional military strategic talent.

The embodiment of Roman ideals.

Making Caligula, happy and proud. In his young heart, he wanted to grow up just like his father.

His blond hair, a sun-kissed blend of his mother and father's hues, and his little brown boots were a familiar sight throughout the Castrum during the day.

While at night, he is with his father, telling him story after story of his battle. And teaching the young Caligula about the military.

He absorbed it all, eager to please and eager to learn.

In that way, his father is hoping to instill in him discipline, courage, and leadership skills and, at the same time, spend time with his young son.

As the raid got nearer, the time Germanicus spent with him had lessened.

And before his father left the Castrum, he told Caligula to practice with a sword. And when he returns, he'll ask his young son to show it to him.

Second week of December, 16 AD. Still in Vetera Castrum.

It's been twenty-one days since then.

Caligula has started to get bored; his enthusiasm for the sword has started to wane, but he still dutifully swings the wooden sword every day.

Eager to impress his father upon his return.

Albeit sometimes he is using it to conduct imaginary battles with the camp's chicken.

Early one morning...

Ta-ta-Taaa

A horn blared, making Caligula jump to his feet after the chickens fled. The ground vibrated beneath his little boots.

"They've returned!"

"Victoria!"

"Germanicus!!"

"Viva Roma!"

THUD THUD THUD

Caligula with his little boots sprang into action, 'Father has returned! '

Cold wind assaulted his face as he ran. His babysitters close behind him.

In his little head, he can imagine his father's joyful and thunderous laugh, pleased with him when he sees him.

He joined in on the noisy crowd. But the air felt heavy, pressing down on him.

A mixture of sour stench of sweat, smoke and disease, and the metallic tang of blood hit Caligula's nose—a smell that clung to the returning soldiers like a shroud.

He peeked at the very long procession and decided to move in-front.

Caligula weaves himself in the crowd; being small is such an advantage!

Once he is satisfied with his position, he waited patiently. Very excited to see his father.

Watching the long line of people coming into the Castrum.

But his excitement gradually started to fade when he saw the wounded soldiers—some didn't have legs or eyes!

He paused. He knew some of them!

The old man who always give him cow milk, the freckled face guy that tumble on the dirt after chasing him, and the man who laughs loudly.

They used to play with him and carry him on their shoulders before they left!

He even got them into trouble with his father once or twice.

Now that they were hurt; it made Caligula feel bad—a child's egocentric thinking.

And felt like it was his fault all over again. Freezing him in place.

You can't blame him. His older brothers—especially Drusus Caesar—his second older brother, always held Caligula responsible.

Making him as the excuse just to get out of the scolding of his mother—whenever they returned home injured.

After making some trouble with the other noble kids.

Saying it's his fault that they beat up the young noble kid because they made Caligula cry or said something about him that tarnished the family's name—which is irrational.

But kids being kids don't know any better.

They just want to get out of the scolding. And will use anything and any excuses at all to avoid Agrippina's hawk eyes and her itchy whip.

These reasons, even though they are not connected as long as they come back like his brothers, after getting hurt, made Caligula feel like it was his fault in his young mind.

Further cementing the kid's egocentric nature.

He started to sweat and was scared his father would be mad at him. That he won't praise him with his sword.

A metallic taste of fear in Caligula's mouth as he gulped.

Then a group of heavy wooden carts comes in like a mountain.

With a big white cloth, stained with mud and streaks of colored red.

Some soldiers sobbed openly while following it, their faces etched with the raw pain of loss, while others stood in stunned silence, their eyes hollow.

And spectators from his back also started to cry, and Caligula doesn't even know why.

He hesitates.

'Why were they crying? Why did they look so broken?' He wanted to ask, but his throat was tight with fear.

He grips the edge of his small tunica.

'I think they found out it was my fault?' He can feel his eyes are starting to get wet too.

He is only four years old now, even though he is bright, he is still a kid that get scared so easily with the smallest of things, even if it is irrational or nonsense.

Then a big wooden cart passed him by.

The crowd was a sea of faces, some contorted with grief, others pale with shock, and a few hardened with a grim acceptance. The sound of crying increased.

The wooden carts, laden with the dead, moved like grim, silent ships through the crowd.

The weight of loss and the inevitability of death.

But he didn't know that. He is only a kid. Whose biggest problem was—what to play next..

He only knew that the wooden carts, blocked his view of the procession.

That was his reality. It doesn't sink in with him yet, of what was happening.

One of the wheels suddenly got stuck in a protruding stone. Halting the cart.

Some soldiers then help the cart to move, as it is hindering the other carts' movement.

With a strong push, the wooden cart shook.

Suddenly, an arm got thrown out on the ground near his little boots, from the cart, scaring Caligula.

It's a severed arm, with blood in it, still gripping a sword.

A stark reminder of the price of victory, a grotesque trophy of death.

He wailed, thinking that it was his father's arm.

Suddenly, he felt himself fly off the ground.

He struggled, but the grip was too strong.

He can't see with his eyes, as they're full of tears.

Then he heard a lonely voice that said, "Filius meus iuvenis..." an endearment that means, 'My young son..'

Germanicus' voice was rough, a mix of relief and a deep, unspoken pain and worry as he spoke this to his son.

It made Caligula stopped struggling. It was his father... making him pause a bit.

Then he cried harder, a mix of relief and terror, the rough fabric of his little boots now feeling like a symbol of his lost innocence.

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INDEX:

Tria nomina- three-part naming convention for Roman male citizens

domus- family house

Castrum- camp or fortress

Seikilos Epitaph - ancient Greek song, also known by Romans

tunica- basic garments worn by all

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10 Gentes Family:

1. Julii-Claudii (joint in marriage)

2. Junii-Silanii (joint in marriage)

3. Aemilii

4. Cornelii

5. Valerii

6. Fabii

7. Claudii-Marcelii (joint in marriage) (another branch of Claudii family)

8. Licinii

9. Pompeii

10. Plautii