Abstract: over Italy and the western provinces gave rise to new priesthoods serving the cult of the reigning emperor, his deified predecessor(s), and some of his (male and) female relatives, especially his wife. Both men and women could hold these priesthoods, which in most provinces existed at two levels, the municipal and the provincial.1 According to the traditional view, which is still highy influential, the imperial cult in the Latin West was mostly established on the initiative of the capital, Rome forming its main model of organisation.2 As a consequence, it is usually assumed that the priesthood of the municipal and provincial ruler cult was closely modelled on the flaminate of republican Rome, especially on the priesthood of the flamen and flaminica Dialis. I have argued elsewhere that this view has led to a misunderstanding of the status of imperial priestesses and of the nature of their priesthood: apart from her title, the flaminica of the (municipal or provincial) imperial cult had little in common with the flaminica Dialis of republican Rome?and the sacerdos (divae) Augustae lacks even this superficial similarity.3 In the present article I will focus on female imperial priesthoods, re-examining the relationship between Rome and the cities of Italy and the western provinces from the perspective of the priestess. Instead of taking thtflaminica Dialis as the model for the priestess of the imperial cult, I shall argue that the empress herself provided a model for her priestesses. After briefly reconsidering the relationship between Rome and the local towns as regards female imperial priesthoods, I shall concentrate on two points: the rituals that priestesses of the imperial cult may

Abstract: ^ ampania, from the revolt of Capua in 216 to its surrender to the Romans in 211, was a decisive theatre of the Second Punic War.1 For Hannibal, the region would showcase his Italian strategy of eliciting allied revolts.2 He was able to win over the most important city in Campania, Capua, as well as a number of smaller towns. Moreover, Capua possessed civitas sine suffragio, so Hannibal did not just win over mere Roman allies, but rather at least partial Roman citizens. He also captured an important stronghold where the Via Appia crossed the Volturnus River (at Casilinum), setting up the potential to march north to Latium. Even at the height of his power, however, Hannibal achieved only partial success, as a number of Campanian cities (including Naples, Cumae, and Nola) remained loyal to Rome. Meanwhile, the Romans committed vast resources, usually four or six legions, to hold the line in Campania. Upon its recapture Capua's punishment was severe, and Hannibal's ultimate failure to defend the city undermined his legitimacy with his remaining Italian allies, thereby marking a major turning point in the war.3 But why did Capua rebel in the first place? And if Hannibal could win over the Capuans, why was his diplomacy not more successful? The answers to these questions reveal much about why the Romans prevailed in the Second Punic War and, more broadly, about the nature of Roman control in Italy. We are fortunate to possess a good deal of ancient evidence concerning Campanian affairs in the Second Punic War, including Livy s detailed narrative of Capuan politics and decision-making in the wake of Cannae (23.2-10). Livy posits a number of factors that contributed to the Capuan decision to revolt, the most important of which is that the "masses," led by a popular leader, were naturally inclined toward the Carthaginian cause while the Capuan nobilitas tried to remain loyal to Rome. Livy s second reason is that the Capuans were motivated by pride to make their city the equal of Rome, if not the master of Italy. Scholars have generally disregarded much of Livy s analysis as pro-Roman chauvinism that

Abstract: FA THOUS.HO ? ? MO?,, a? d.?F?-helW teM. ,nd ? numerous lesser games, the ancient Greeks held competitions in the pentathlon. There is nowhere even a hint of a suggestion that they had any difficulty determining winners in the event. By contrast, many modern scholars have demonstrated, or confessed to, bewilderment on that point as new theories or mutations on theories have proliferated over the past several generations without leading to any definitive answer.1 At the present time continuing attempts at solution seem to vie with an attitude of resigned agnosticism over this "perennial puzzle of Greek sport history," as Mark Golden has recently called it.2 Stephen Miller echoes with the concession that "We shall probably never know how the pentathlon victor was determined."3 Ancient informants, to be sure, are not very helpful, having left only a scattering of vague data which, if not inherently inconsistent, has been inconsistently interpreted, as the accumulating recent bibliography on the subject shows.4 Much of the theorizing to date supplements the sparse ancient testimony with speculation based on modern contests such as the decathlon, but unknown and hardly plausible in an ancient context. There is, for instance, no ancient evidence to suggest that the Greeks ever employed a point system such as some scholars attribute to them, nor is there any ancient basis for the hypothesis that they had something like the modern rep?chage, a procedure whereby non-winners in a first attempt are allowed a second attempt in order to qualify for victory. From everything we know, second-place finishers in Greek athletic contests usually got nothing better than dishonorable mention.5 In general, moreover, some of the currently competing theories involve procedures that seem intrinsically improbable in their complexity. Theories based on such "accounting operations" were already rife eighty years ago when E. Pavlinis inveighed against them, unsuccessfully.6 A full review of such theories will not be undertaken now, but a couple of relatively

Abstract: Now then, the country places and the trees are not willing to teach me anything, but the human beings in town are. But you in my opinion have found the drug for my trip out. For just as they lead hungry animals by holding out and shaking a young shoot or some fruit, so you, stretching out in front of me speeches in books, will evidently lead me around all of Attica and anywhere else you wish. (Phdr. 230d6-el)1

Abstract: In the late fourth through early second centuries b.c. the temple accounts from independent Delos regularly list a Trop^upa among the taxes {x?Xr\ or eyKUK^ia) leased out annually by the temple.1 The word Tiop^opa can refer to murex, the marine snails utilized in dye production, or to purple dye and purple-dyed cloth.2 Nowhere does the word refer to the act of fishing for the snails.3 But these entries "for the purple" are almost universally regarded as evidence that the temple leased the right to farm a tax on purple fishing. This interpretation appears to rely on the fact that the entries are often accompanied by toponyms.4 Every commentator has agreed with Bruneau that these toponyms correspond to regions where murex could be fished, and that the temple owned the rights to those fishing grounds.5