There aren’t many ways to get me to go down the rabbit hole. Up until now I could count on one hand the topics that could set me up for hours of conversation or months of reading: the 1996-97 Detroit Red Wings, the combat history of the 507th Parachute Infantry Regiment, the 1453 Siege of Constantinople by Mehmet the Conqueror, and the Palio di Siena. After six months I can deny it no more. Add the Ancient Roman Empire to the list. 

It snuck up on me slowly. Reading The Eagle of the Ninth by Rosemary Sutcliff as a boy or a fragment of a Roman ruin in Vienna on a college trip. Then as I roamed further I consumed bigger and bigger portions of Roman history. The Celsus Library at Ephesus in Turkey, the temple of Volubilis in Morocco, and visiting the ruins of Jerash in Jordan were whole-day affairs.

Recently and unexpectedly I found myself living in Italy. I was practically stumbling over the Ancient Romans in between sips of espresso and magnificent pasta. And believe you me, I relished the proximity of it all. The Appian Way was a short walk from my rental, central Rome a simple train ride away. Capua, the starting point of the Spartacus-led Third Servile War appeared on the road signs I drove past daily.  

In for a penny, I was in for a pound. Even after I left Italy the Roman history books started piling up on my shelf. Mike Duncan’s History of Rome podcast started accompanying me on my morning commutes. And I put all six volumes of Edward Gibbon’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire at the top of my letter to Santa Claus. I wanted, and still want, to know more. To understand the connections between this ancient empire and our modern world. 

This interest is what drove me to the north of England. Far distant from the Forum and Palatine Hill in Rome were the edges of the empire. There, on the south side of the Scottish border, lies what remains of Emperor Hadrian’s wall demarking the frontier. It was there, on a brisk October morning, that I came to Housesteads Roman Fort, an auxiliary fort once home to Roman legionnaires at the very edge of the civilized world. 

Conquering new lands defined the Ancient Roman Republic and early Roman Empire. Emperor Trajan pushed Rome’s boundaries to the empire’s high water mark. Emperor Hadrian, Trajan’s successor foresaw financial and logistical reasons to put some clean edges on the empire. One, to keep the barbarians out. Two, to keep adventurous Roman generals penned in. As the new emperor toured his domains he set Roman garrisons to building projects along the Danube and in Germania. In AD 122 he ordered the construction of the wall in northern Britannia after another revolt in the province. Britannia simply wouldn’t be a profitable Roman province if they had to keep fighting there. And so the wall was built over six years and stretched nearly the full 91 miles at the narrowest coast-to-coast line in Northern England. The hard edge of the empire became crystal clear. 

When Hadrian gave the word to build Romans from Britain’s legions turned out from their forts to quarry stone, haul material, and erect the long structure. Examples of other Roman walls still standing elsewhere are about 15 feet tall and 10 feet wide. Known for their uniformity and rigidity in military matters, this wall was likely the same. It’s imposing height, augmented by cliffs and ditches, was whitewashed and must have gleamed against the grey British skies. The mile-castles, roving cavalry patrols, and permanent garrisons intimated the reach and power of the Emperor stretching over a thousand miles back to Italy. 

For nearly 1,900 years Hadrian’s Wall has stood. Maintained by the National Trust preservation society in England, it’s line is still impressive. In Housesteads Fort the walls and gates have shed much of their glorious height. Beyond it’s northern gate lies what was once Rome’s frontier. The wall divided lands of the Brigantes tribes and kept the ancient Caledonians – the barbarians of the North – at bay. Here was the last line where the legionnaires stood guard against them all. 

Today the enemy was time. Bryce, Soren, Randy, Sean, and I, fresh off our day on Helvellyn, were there to dash across a section of well before heading back to our day jobs in the south. Dash being the appropriate term as we had one chance to get from Housesteads Fort to the village of Greenhead to catch the last bus back to our parked car. The only backup plan was a ten mile walk back. 

We walked, we jogged and we ran. Occasionally we stopped for a picture or just to gawk at the landscapes. To the south the ground sloped gently down. To the north the terrain drops steeply. The Romans incorporated the cliffs of the Great Whin Sill into their construction to form an imposing and formidable barrier. Overhead a ceaseless wind barreled from the north shoving the clouds across a threatening sky. It would be months before I turned back the cover of Alistair Moffat’s The Wall and really dove into the history of Roman Britain, but even in those moments my imagination could hear the cloth snapping on the Roman standards, and the low grumbling of lonely Centurians on duty from over a thousand years past. 

We arrived in Greenhead with time to spare. At the bus stop we leaned against a less ancient stone wall waiting for Bus 122 (appropriately numbered) to take us away. In the preceding six hours we had climbed the ancient walls, crossed bovine and sheep pastures, and transported ourselves back to the time when the area was bustling with Legionnaires, Auxiliaries, and the human activity that followed the Romans to each corner of the known world. 

In the end, the only tension of the day involved a couple of beers. While waiting for the bus Bryce, Soren, and Sean disappeared into the Greenhead Hotel. Just before the appointed hour they emerged with giant smiles and five bottles of cold ale in their hands – held high in the victory stance. Time slowed as we sipped the amber ale. We weren’t just drinking a toast to our successful day. The five of us were welcoming a new appreciation for the ambition and achievement of the Romans, their mark on history, and their invasion of our imaginations.