The sun is setting outside right now. The rays of warmth leave for the night. And while it isn’t chilly in Florida right now, one can sense a feeling of foreboding if you pay attention. The shadows seem extra long this year. Is it a new influx of souls?
Maybe it’s from all the new dead we had from this year and last year already. It actually feels more like Halloween in this Parentalia than it did in October last year. So with that, I wanted to share with you a Roman Ghost Story. It was an event recorded by Ovid in his Fasti.
And allegedly it actually happened. This was one of those few times I was genuinely surprised with a new nugget of knowledge. I had never heard of this account before. This came from one of the articles I used to write my post on the Parentalia. It records an uprising by the dead in the festival due to neglect by the people.
Here’s the account, courtesy of Archeology Online,
I had never heard of this before. But it makes sense. Even good ghosts, can get pissed off. I was inspired to write my own ghost story. I wrote it as if were a legend.
And I call this story…….
~ The Mournful Wail ~
The people ran in fear. Even the drunkards and the homeless on the streets ran for shelter. Sealing themselves up in government buildings that had been shut closed for the festival of the parents. The screams of the Romans filled the night all over their city. The Ancestors rose from the tombs at nightfall.
Their anger were like waves of heat in the night. The air was filled with their angry voices. Can you imagine that? An endless throng of shades rising up to haunt the living? Some of them were the military dead.
Arisen to haunt their comrades for forgetting their votive offerings. Some were citizen dead. Most were spirits. Strange confusing creatures. Some were as fog in the night.
Others were spheres of light. Some were shadows. Others seemed to be like water and fire. And some still appeared as humanoid light without discernible features. They were able to float to the top of houses and wail to be let in.
But that wasn’t the worst of them. The roads were being blocked by legions of the angry dead. Some are even reanimated corpses. For then such things happened. What we once mocked in the taverns as silly stories, were now before our very eyes.
It was nothing to laugh about.
The people couldn’t go back to the temples. They were locked up for the Parentalia. Soldiers were trying to fend off the non-corporeal beings at first. Then upon seeing the ones that brought back their rotted bodies. And soiled themselves.
Families were locking their doors and sealing the windows. Maybe blocking all exists and entries. Preparing as if for an invading horde. And in a way it was. A horde of our own dead.
But now hearken to me. As I tell you the tale of those brave Romans who fought off the hordes. And saved their city.
Behold, there was once a well known family of farmers. In the countryside they tended to horses and other animals. And were well known to be hard workers. The father Claudius and his wife Aelia were well known for their charity. They even allowed the poor without homes to work in the fields for them for money.
With time their small farm became a mighty latifundium. And they shared all that they had. Not forgetting their humble beginnings. Not wearing fancy clothing as many of the higher classes did. Just the night before, they thought that their worst problem was the war.
And now they and they workers were sealing themselves up in their own home. Closing every single opening.
Why? Why did we waste so much time with war, They were thinking. Why didn’t we pay attention to the ancestors?
The workers and children could hear the animals screaming outside. They didn’t have enough room for all of them. The children began to cry. Claudius, Aelia, and their workers lit candles and torches. And began to illumine the darkened corners of their rooms.
When they were interrupted by a deep, sharp, knock on the front door. And what they heard was both terrifying and disheartening. A terrible wailing.
The terrified household hid behind Claudius. The Paterfamilias (father of the family). After all, the head of all families are the Priests of this festival. The Paterfamilias was putting on a strong face for his family. When another long, sharp, knock hit the door.
And a mournful voice spoke through the cracks. The household could tell someone, a woman, had been crying. Claudius spoke in a stern voice.
“Who dares disturb our rest this night?”
Aelia was not pleased that he spoke. The priests of the temple often warned of the dangers of speaking to strange spirits. Even speaking to your own ancestors could become dangerous if not done properly. He had not long to wait for the answer.
“Claudius, let me in my son. I am so cold. And so hungry,”
Claudius went pale as if all the blood had been spilled from his body. Everyone else in the house is stunned into silence. Even the animals outside can not bare to make noises now.
“Claudius,” she speaks again, “Why did you forget me this year? Why did you make no offerings of bread and wine? Was it too much for you to even visit?”
Claudius couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But it was real. The workers and his family can hear it too. It was his dead mother. He had not heard that voice for many years.
It was a voice he had missed for so long. A voice that once comforted him as a child. He tried to remember the lullabies that she taught him. The ancient magical spells she would sing to protect him. Why hadn’t he paid more attention to the customs?
All he had before was faith that such things could be. What he had behind that door now was truth. A truth more frightening and more terrible than any of the legends could describe.
“Claudius!”, now a deeper voice spoke. And a more aggressive knock assailed the door. “Open up boy!” The voice was far deeper. It was a man. A man who had a stone cold heart in life.
Unforgiving.
He had died when he was just 17. But even on his death bed, he never lost his spiteful tongue. His venom and contempt for life. His stern voice. A voice that demanded to be respected.
Or else. But his father’s old voice when he was alive, was gentle compared to this one. It was the voice of vocal chords that had long rotted past their use. The voice of something that should not have been able to speak. The voice of a spirit reunited with it’s dead body.
It suits him, Claudius thought. He was barely a human when he was alive.
It brought out the venom and bile of his soul more than his old voice did. He wondered how long it would take the Vigiles Urbani to come to their aid. Then he cursed at his own stupidity. The watchmen were probably busy dealing with their own angry ancestors. Another, louder knock hit the door,
“Boy, I have commanded you to open this door…. now,”
The children openly cried now. They no longer tried to be silent. They held onto their mother’s legs for support. And she began to hush them. And place her protective hands on their shoulders.
Aelia was frightened at first. But then she closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. And centered herself. She laid a gentle hand on her husband.
And calmed his tremors. Claudius hadn’t even realized he was shaking before. Or that his eyes had shed tears. She looked deeply into his eyes. He’d always been confident in all that he did.
Perhaps too confident sometimes. But right now the person standing before her seemed as a frightened child. Her heart sank at this. The voices outside kept wailing louder. The winds howled with their voices.
Then she gently squeezed his arm. “Claudius”, she said. That back into himself. As if by art of magic. He gazed into his wife’s loving eyes.
He knew without words what she was saying. She was saying, I believe in you Claudius, now believe in yourself. He smiled at her. He felt his inner strength returning.
“Daughter in law!”, the voice outside screamed. “Let us in Now! Your Paterfamilias commands it!”
Claudius who before was frightened, was now angry. Angry that his household was under attack. Angry at himself and all the other men of the city who had told their wives that they had to focus on the war effort. Rather than taking care of their ancestors. Angry that these people he had taken in from the streets, and now his own family, were in danger here.
And finally, angry that his father insulted both him and his wife. Screaming out commands as if he were still in charge and they were the children.
“ Silence! I am the Paterfamilias. Not you. You are nothing but a shade of the dead. With a sour tongue and empty threats. And I as Priest of this household, Adjure you by the Gods to be silent,”
The wailing and the wind stopped. The animals outside began to make their noises again. Silently, but calmly. Aelia was always a lot more spiritual than he was. She was the one who often stayed in the temples after every celebration.
Asking questions about the nature of life and death. And how to protect oneself from the spirits. If I survive this, I will strive to be as spiritual as she he said to himself. Something she had told him once stayed in his mind. That every believer is a priest in their own right.
And if you command the spirits, they must obey.
“My family,” he spoke addressing the workers as much as his own blood family, “We must treat them as if they were Larvae (evil ghosts). Go and get the pots and the pans. And begin banging them and making noises all night. Light the torches using carmen (spells). To make the fires holy.
And place them in every corner we can,”
“Where will you go?” Asked Aelia. “To fetch black beans for the rite of expiation,”
Aelia understood now. They performed this ritual in the month of Maius every year. Not the month of Februa. But right now they needed help. The men broke into two groups, one group began banging the pots and pans.
And screaming at the ghosts to leave now. The other, kept the doors and Windows sealed while the Paterfamilias did his work. Aelia began to light the torches. Using a carmen or charm over each of them. Consecrating them as best as she could.
She may not be the father of the family, but she’s still the mother. And she knows much from her priests. Then came Claudius. He studied the door frame. And he noticed a crack, large enough to throw things outside.
First he took salt and then seeds that he had blessed with prayers to Lupercus. And he said,
“Accept these offerings my Parentes, accept them and be comforted, and depart from us,”
He slowly threw the salt and seeds outside of his front door. Little by little he chanted the carmen. His living family made the house inhospitable to the spirits. This would serve a double function. He would comfort the shades and feed them.
But they would bless the inside of the estate and banish the spirits. So as not to encourage them to stay. Outside he heard a sickening sound. It was of long tongues, licking the salt and swallowing the seeds from the floor outside. The fetid stench of those long dead mouths filled the air.
And it crept through the same cracks in the door. Aelia wished she could burn the sacred herbs. But refrained from doing so. It was not proper to do this in the time of the dead. Claudius understood what his wife was thinking and said,
“Use lavandula infused lustral waters. And wash the floors in the name of Lupercus,”
Aelia smiled. That was the Claudius she knew. Always quick on his feet. She ran to the herbs, took lavandula, and broke them into pieces. She heated the water to strain their essence into it.
Lavandula as you know, is sacred to the people of Rome. It could break curses. And ward off evil spirits. But it was also a sweet smelling herb. It would serve the purpose of consecrating the floor to protect them.
And the smell would blot out the stench of the corpses outside their door. Albus and Alba, their children, looked at what they were doing and had an idea. They would would do the same thing.
“Go get a sprig of unbroken lavandula,” said Albus, “I’ll prepare the water,”
Alba made her own aspergillum. Like the priests. Except the priests use a stick with horsehair to cast aspersions of sacred water. This would have to do. They made their own lustral water.
Copying what their mother had done, Alba and Albus started flicking the waters at the animals outside. Like her father, she used the cracks in the back doors. Begging Lupercus who is lord over all animals, to protect their livestock. The animals started getting quieter. Calmer.
But whatever was out there began to moan in pain. They didn’t like the blessed waters. Whatever was back there scaring the livestock, started to leave. The adults smiled. Not bad for common worshippers.
They would make it through the night. But it would not be easy. The formless shades were flying near the top of the estate. Hovering above them. And creatures who had ensouled their corpus outside the door.
They could hear them outside. Hungrily devouring salt, and pieces of blessed seeds. Now accompanied by small pieces of bread. They long stopped wailing and speaking. The great mob of the dead grew larger.
He cursed under his breath in Latin. The offerings were attracting the other dead. But he couldn’t stop now. Suddenly, he heard a voice from one of the other houses.
“Claudius! Aelia! Can you hear me?”
It was their neighbor Marcellus.
“Marcellus, we hear you!”
He shouted from their door.
“The dead stopped assailing the rest of us. Why are they going to you?”
“Listen very carefully,” said Claudius. “I need you to write down these instructions. And pass it on to our other neighbors. Because I can not keep this going for long,” he stopped as the dead began to complain that he was taking too long.
“I the Paterfamilias adjure you, silence! Or I will cease my offerings,”
Now they all quieted. He began again slowly. And he told Marcellus what he and his family were doing. How they were both warding off the dead and feeding them. He told Marcellus they can keep it up for a longer period of time.
But he needed him to send instructions to the rest of his neighbors of how they could replicate this. Marcellus wrote everything down. And one by one he began to shout to the neighbors. Eventually making a hole in his roof and standing atop a ladder to shout it to everyone at once. He instructed them to also make holes and listen to him speak.
It was safe now, as the formless phantoms from above were at the Claudius and Aelia’s estate. Just one time he was able to give them all the instructions. One by one, each Paterfamilias and their households began to first bless and consecrate their homes as Claudius had done. And then prepare blessed offerings and carmens for the dead. Since Claudius had drawn all the attention to his land, they were able to open their doors and leave offerings on the roads instead.
They screamed to the dead that their offerings were there. In large groups all at once, they began to file out of Claudius’ door way. The Phantoms above too began to leave. Until only his parents and other ancestors were there. That was still too many.
But it was old Marinus who had the best idea. He instructed the Paterfamilias of each household to prepare a large bonfire away from the houses down the roads. They would have to work fast. And exit their homes via the posticum. And take whatever they could find to perform one mass carmen.
They would enchant the fires and command the shades to appear before the flames. And the holy flames would provide them with both warmth and sustenance. And when they had their fill, they would be adjured to depart from the living. Back to their tombs for the night. Because Marinus himself had come up with this idea, he was chosen as the “high priest” for the event.
The old man had no idea how he was going to do this himself.
“You can do it Marinus,” shouted his neighbor Livia. “I know you can,”
Suddenly, Marinus was filled with courage. And more ideas formed in his mind. He exited his own posticum first. Luckily, the old man had the bad habit of collecting things. Like sticks and old dried leaves.
They would be perfect for the fires. He had chanted a carmen over them. Then he was surrounded by the other men.
“Let us begin,” he said.
They began to pile up the wood. Each of them had offerings for the dead they would toss inside once the fire was started. One of them took a blessed torch from the inside of the house to light the bonfires. One by one they began to make sacred fires. Marinus told them,
“Build the fires. I will chant the carmens by myself at first,”
As each of them built other fires away from the neighboring houses, he began to call the dead.
“I call you di Parentes, of all Rome, congregate here before the flames and accept these offerings on behalf of all your people”
He hoped this carmen would be strong enough to attract all the dead everywhere. Vestal virgins were supposed to be doing a collective offering for all the dead. So he asked for just a single virgin to appear, someone young. And from one of the houses, a child of no more than thirteen came to assist him. To pray to Vesta to bless her even though she was not consecrated.
The girl swore in prayer to become a Vestal when all of this was over. If she would just help her now. As the old man summoned the dead, the girl spoke a carmen as she sacrificed the offerings into the fire.
“These old clothes we sacrifice to you. To clothe you in the afterlife. This fire be blessed by Vesta to feed you warmth. These pieces of food and wine we throw into the fire to bless the flame with substance for you,”
She continued drawing on divine inspiration to do this. As Marinus commanded more and more of the dead there. More bonfires were lit. “Come girl,” he said. “This fire is blessed enough for them.
Now we need to do the same for the others,”
They took the rest of the offerings to the second bonfire. And she repeated the ritual. Feeding the flame with blessed offerings for the dead. They did this until all the bonfires, were blessed. And she commanded that the fires should become a common sacrifice for all of Rome.
All of Claudius’ ancestors had now left. They were all by the bonfires. Drinking in the warmth as if it were food. Marinus and the girl had realized all they needed were small offerings to bless a fire. So they began to ration them out to each of the bonfires.
More fires were made. And Aelia had an idea.
“Claudius, join the other Paterfamilias in this work. Take the men with you. The children and I have work to do,”
Claudius raised a brow at this but did not press her for details. The men left. And Aelia, Albus, and Alba had knocked on every single door. And told the women and children, to prepare sprigs of lavandula and vessels of lustral water. The children would also take pots and pans to make noise.
And little by little they all began to make a large enough noise to frighten the dead away. They began to cast aspersions of lustral water everywhere. Blessing the roads and outside of each domūs to create a sanctum. Although the Paterfamilias usually did this next part, the women took bags of black beans. And then began to pellet the dead who tried to linger.
And cast the carmen together,
“Haec ego mitto; his redimo meque meosque fabis,”
(I send these; with these beans I redeem me and mine)
The Lemurian exorcism rite. Driving away the angry and dark dead. This made the spirits of the ancestors uncomfortable. When they had gained enough energy from the bonfires, they slowly left. Returning to their tombs.
They had to be careful. Some of the dead were tricky. They tried to stay behind. So the women and children began to investigate every dark corner, every crevice. And secured the areas.
But the formless dead still hovered in the air above their homes. Livia had an idea.
“Let us tie sprigs of lavandula to each place we have cleansed. To ensure the dead do not return to these places,”
Aelia thought the idea inspired. When they had finished warding all of their properties with fresh new carmens, they sent the children back to each domūs. And instructed them to continue making noises. And only to answer the doors if they saw that it was them. The children decided to have one child bang the pots in the house.
And another up a ladder through the holes in the roof. In order to keep watch. And communicate among themselves. Their mothers approved and they did this. Then the children atop the ladders asked for sprigs to be thrown to them.
And using them as scepters, they pointed to the shades above. One child invented a carmen for all of them to say.
“Lupercus, by these sprigs, cast away the shades, send them away!”
As the dead exited the streets, they thanked the living for their offerings. Claudius and Aelia decided to expand to the rest of the city. One by one they recruited whole families to join them. They gave bigger and bigger offerings. And as the hours of the night passed, the dead departed to their tombs again.
The shapeless entities began to screech. And one by one, they flew away. Made uncomfortable by the great carmen spoken by the children. It took long hours of the night before they reached the Vigiles Urbani. When the watchmen heard what they were doing, they quickly sprang to action.
They sent word to all the politicians. To the priests and high priests, and to the Legions. With their help they had finished before dawn. And then began to ward the inside and outside of the city with not just with lavandula or other herbs. But with special amulets blessings of lustral waters.
The entire city was warded now. The boundaries and other liminal spaces strengthened. Cleansings and blessings for Lupercus were given. The Luperci, Lupercus’ priests had apparently already done something similar to all of them. Chasing the dead away with aspersions of blessed waters.
by Ad Maiora Vertite
But they had not thought to do the offerings. They were going to wait till daylight. They were all exhausted. But none of them slept. Instead, all the families, even the children, went to the tombs outside the city.
And gave homage to their ancestors. As had all the families of Rome that day. And at nightfall, there was only peace. Never again sense, had anyone doubted the old ways. Not forgotten their dead kin.
– Finis –
I have dedicated this story to a friend. I won’t mention his name out of privacy. He’s a good man. A great writer. And above all, a brother.
Good night my friends, sleep tight. Don’t let the dead ones bite,
– M
Adventures of A Mage In Miami 