Cassius of a hot room at the baths. The rounded ovens were constructed of clay, each one with a chimney and an opening at the front. Only two were alight, burning bright orange inside. Half a dozen men were at work, wearing aprons over their tunics, skin glistening with sweat. They turned and nodded politely when they realised they had visitors.
Cassius noted some metal ingots stacked on a wooden pallet. Most were of bronze but there was also copper and silver. Arruntius led the other three to a central table and pointed at a rectangular lump of clay containing rows of hollows. ‘This is the mould: made of what we call foundry sand – sand mixed with clay. We pour molten bronze into these then they go into the oven.’
He continued on and pointed down at two empty vats sunk into the ground. ‘These would usually contain the liquid silver – when the bronzes come out of the ovens we apply the wash here.’
Guarding the arched doorway that led to the next section was a legionary who looked as if he was ready for another duty.
‘Of course, security is crucial,’ said Arruntius. ‘We also inventory every last item at the end and beginning of the working day.’
He led them into the second section. In the middle of the room was a huge square table. On top of it was a wooden tray containing dozens of silver-coated coins. A worker was picking them out one by one, examining the surface and clipping off any excess metal around the edges.
‘Once they’ve cooled, the “blanks” are checked in here,’ said Arruntius.
Farther along the table was another worker by a set of scales. He was weighing every coin.
‘Keeping a standardised weight is essential,’ added the chief of the mint, ‘and not easy to achieve.’ He pointed at a bucket containing several coins. ‘Anything not up to standard goes back for remoulding.’
Cassius looked at a tray containing approved ‘blanks’. Having just been ‘washed’ these looked almost like silver, but he knew from experience that, after handling, most of the coins would end up looking like what they really were: bronze.
‘So not much actual silver in a denarius these days.’
Arruntius gave an ironic smile and looked at Quentin, who answered.
‘Should be five per cent.’
Arruntius took a single blank from the nearest tray and led them past another guard into the third section. No one was working but there was a circular table surrounded by four large anvils mounted on bases of brick. On the table were two cylinders of what looked to Cassius like lead, each about two inches wide and five high.
‘These are the dies,’ said Arruntius as they reached the table. ‘See the images? One is the obverse, one the reverse.’
The obverse showed the head of the Emperor. He was wearing a crown and facing to the right. Written around the top half of the coin was his name.
‘A good likeness,’ said Quentin.
‘You have seen the Emperor in the flesh?’ asked Cassius.
‘Yes, several times.’
‘And?’ said Cassius, unable to curtail his curiosity.
‘ Very impressive,’ replied Quentin. Cassius supposed there wasn’t really anything else one could say.
He looked at the next die and was surprised by what he saw. The design for the reverse showed a god-like figure standing over a captive. In one hand he held a globe, in the other a whip. The legend was clear: SOL INVICTUS.
‘Oh. The sun god. I didn’t realise …’
‘Other solar symbols have been used on previous coinage,’ said Quentin.
‘Instead of Jupiter, though?’ said Cassius. No one seemed keen to discuss the matter but it seemed obvious that the Emperor’s interest in the solar deities of the East was developing at quite a rate.
‘Sun god,’ said Indavara. ‘Not Elagabalus?’
Quentin answered quickly. ‘The word from on high is that the design does not represent any single version of the sun god. It is to be considered an acknowledgement of what the Emperor sees as the importance of local
Cassius noted some metal ingots stacked on a wooden pallet. Most were of bronze but there was also copper and silver. Arruntius led the other three to a central table and pointed at a rectangular lump of clay containing rows of hollows. ‘This is the mould: made of what we call foundry sand – sand mixed with clay. We pour molten bronze into these then they go into the oven.’
He continued on and pointed down at two empty vats sunk into the ground. ‘These would usually contain the liquid silver – when the bronzes come out of the ovens we apply the wash here.’
Guarding the arched doorway that led to the next section was a legionary who looked as if he was ready for another duty.
‘Of course, security is crucial,’ said Arruntius. ‘We also inventory every last item at the end and beginning of the working day.’
He led them into the second section. In the middle of the room was a huge square table. On top of it was a wooden tray containing dozens of silver-coated coins. A worker was picking them out one by one, examining the surface and clipping off any excess metal around the edges.
‘Once they’ve cooled, the “blanks” are checked in here,’ said Arruntius.
Farther along the table was another worker by a set of scales. He was weighing every coin.
‘Keeping a standardised weight is essential,’ added the chief of the mint, ‘and not easy to achieve.’ He pointed at a bucket containing several coins. ‘Anything not up to standard goes back for remoulding.’
Cassius looked at a tray containing approved ‘blanks’. Having just been ‘washed’ these looked almost like silver, but he knew from experience that, after handling, most of the coins would end up looking like what they really were: bronze.
‘So not much actual silver in a denarius these days.’
Arruntius gave an ironic smile and looked at Quentin, who answered.
‘Should be five per cent.’
Arruntius took a single blank from the nearest tray and led them past another guard into the third section. No one was working but there was a circular table surrounded by four large anvils mounted on bases of brick. On the table were two cylinders of what looked to Cassius like lead, each about two inches wide and five high.
‘These are the dies,’ said Arruntius as they reached the table. ‘See the images? One is the obverse, one the reverse.’
The obverse showed the head of the Emperor. He was wearing a crown and facing to the right. Written around the top half of the coin was his name.
‘A good likeness,’ said Quentin.
‘You have seen the Emperor in the flesh?’ asked Cassius.
‘Yes, several times.’
‘And?’ said Cassius, unable to curtail his curiosity.
‘ Very impressive,’ replied Quentin. Cassius supposed there wasn’t really anything else one could say.
He looked at the next die and was surprised by what he saw. The design for the reverse showed a god-like figure standing over a captive. In one hand he held a globe, in the other a whip. The legend was clear: SOL INVICTUS.
‘Oh. The sun god. I didn’t realise …’
‘Other solar symbols have been used on previous coinage,’ said Quentin.
‘Instead of Jupiter, though?’ said Cassius. No one seemed keen to discuss the matter but it seemed obvious that the Emperor’s interest in the solar deities of the East was developing at quite a rate.
‘Sun god,’ said Indavara. ‘Not Elagabalus?’
Quentin answered quickly. ‘The word from on high is that the design does not represent any single version of the sun god. It is to be considered an acknowledgement of what the Emperor sees as the importance of local
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