The Roman army, as we know it, has its origins in the reign of the first emperor, Augustus (r. 27 BC-AD 14). While Republican Rome had been a deeply militarised society, with all males of noble birth serving as part-time soldiers, in order to shore up the empire’s ever-expanding territories and conquer more, it needed a dedicated professional force. Rome’s first full-time career soldiers comprised around 300,000 men – half of these were legionaries, a status limited to Roman citizens; non-citizens could only be auxiliaries, who were mostly on worse pay. (At the time of Trajan, r.AD 98-117, auxiliary infantry were paid 250 denarii per year, compared with 300 for citizens.) If they were part of the lucky 50% who survived to the end of their 25-year service, however, there were life-changing prizes to be won. In lieu of the pension given to retired legionaries (worth ten years’ pay), auxiliaries were granted something even more valuable: Roman citizenship. As a citizen, they would pay less tax, enjoy full protection under Roman law – and, most importantly, could pass on this status to their descendants. A mid-2nd-century gravestone from Croy Hill fort in North Lanarkshire reflects the significance of this social transformation and what it meant for families: the memorial depicts three men, possibly a father and two sons, who are all shown proudly grasping the distinctive javelins and long shields of legionaries.
Entry to the Roman army had an upper age limit of 35, but boys as young as 13 could sign up so long as they met the minimum height requirements (172cm or 5’7”). To join a legion, however, a citizen also needed letters of recommendation from individuals of suitable social status (and, written sources suggest, money for bribes). A papyrus archive from Karanis, Egypt, preserves letters from Claudius Terentianus, a soldier in Trajan’s army, who faced such a dilemma – he was a citizen but lacked suitably influential contacts to support his application. Accordingly, he initially ended up in the lower-status and less-well-paid marines on the strength of recommendations from two friends (even for marines, letters of recommendation were seemingly needed, just not such prestigious ones). These auxiliary units, which contained both non-citizens and, as Terentianus shows, citizens with insufficient social connections, worked on ships and on shore. Their peacetime roles included building roads, guarding harbours, and acting as a kind of police- and fire service in urban environments – they were also tasked with furling and unfurling the awnings at amphitheatres that shaded spectators from the sun.
Another example of a soldier seeking help from high places is preserved in one of the Vindolanda tablets. Addressed to Flavius Cerialis, prefect of the ninth cohort of Batavians, it was sent by a man called [—]ius Karus (possibly Claudius Karus, as a man of this name writes to Cerialis on another tablet) in support of a soldier hoping for a position at Carlisle. ‘Brigionus has requested me, my lord, to recommend him to you,’ Karus writes. ‘I therefore ask, my lord, if you would be willing to support him in what he has requested of you. I ask that you think fit to commend him to Annius Equester, centurion in charge of the region, at Luguvalium.’
