Chapters 5 and 6 focus on clusters of re-narrated episodes in Cyril’s response to Julian. Chapter 5 is organized by one of Julian’s own categories: the “gifts of the gods” which, he had argued, were given in surpassing quality and quantity to the Hellenic people. This chapter groups Julian’s various iterations of gifts and Cyril’s sprawling responses in three, interrelated categories: exemplary characters, intellectual superiority, and military and political domination. In Cyril’s responses, Minos was no legendary hero but rather imitated the fallen angels’ lust for domination; the Attic language itself (not to mention the convention of writing) derived from proto-Christian sources; and the Jewish people’s turbulent history and the present ascendance of Roman superiority equally reflect the Christian God’s management of the cosmos.

Rome continued to attract deep interest for its classical vestiges. The most cultivated among pilgrims and travellers also came to Rome to see what remained of the old monuments scattered within and without the 20 km of its city walls that enclosed a territory of 1,400 hectares and a population between 30,000 and 50,000 inhabitants. The variety of geographical origins, perspectives and approaches to Rome as a destination of travel, whether real pilgrimages and journeys or imaginary and intellectual journeys, produced a rich array of texts of different genres: itineraries amidst churches and ancient monuments of Rome, catalogues that described the city, its features, marvels (mirabilia), sites, buildings and history, pilgrims’ and travellers’ accounts in the form of journals of their trips to Rome, including routes and impressions of the city; simple itineraries; letters addressed to friends; various kinds of literary (poetic or narrative) representations of the pilgrimage or journey to Rome.

Chapter 4 is in part an examination of a Mycenaean divine Potnia, one affiliated with the “labyrinth,” the Potnia of the dabúrinthos (δαβύρινθος). The labyrinthine space with which she is associated is an Asian cult notion introduced from Anatolia to Balkan Hellas. This chapter also examines the Rājasūya, a Vedic rite of consecration by which a warrior is made a king and a likely cult counterpart to the Mycenaean initiation of the wanaks.

Chapter 2 examines the Vedic sacrificial post called the yūpa and its role in ritual performances. A Mycenaean Greek cognate term and comparable ritual implement lies behind the Linear B form spelled u-po – that is, hûpos (ὗπος). Among other topics treated in this chapter are the Mycenaean deity called the po-ti-ni-ja, a-si-wi-ja, the Asian Potnia, and the u-po-jo po-ti-ni-ja, the Potnia of the u-po (that is, húpoio Pótnia [ὕποιο Πότνια]), a term matched exactly by Sanskrit patnī-yūpá-.

Chapter 6 examines Iranian cult and myth as evidenced in the Nart sagas of Transcaucasia, but also among Scythians as well as in Zoroastrian tradition, including the psychotropic cult substances Haoma (Iranian) and Soma (Indic). The Greek polis of Dioscurias in the Caucasus is explored as a place where Hellenic and Indo-Iranian divine-twin myth and cult affiliation meet, as indeed they do in the Pontic polis of Sinope. Aeolian connections are conspicuous at both locales.

This chapter foregrounds Liverpool’s first European Cup win against Borussia Mönchengladbach in Rome as the starting point for discussion of the self-styled Europeanisation of the club and, above all, its supporters in the 1970s and 1980s. Drawing heavily on oral history, it analyses Liverpool’s emergence as an international cultural phenomenon, via supporters’ clubs, samizdat publications, fashion, television, and cheap travel.

Chapter 3 examines the Mycenaean wanaks and lāwāgetās, figures responsible for leading Mycenaean society in specific ways and who correspond notionally to figures implicit in Indic and Iranian social structures – figures who descend from still more ancient Indo-European antecedents charged with the task of leading society through the spaces of the Eurasian Steppes and in migrations southward out of the Steppes.

This chapter deals with the history of money in ancient times. We start with ancient Mesopotamia, where fundamental value (silver and barley) was stored in temples. Clay tablets circulated openly, supporting fundamental value and contractual arrangements. Coinage in ancient Greece and Rome was a step forward in terms of ease of use but involved the risk of debasement – reduction of the content of precious metals. We describe debasement of coins from the late Roman empire to the Middle Ages, then move to China, where the first banknotes were printed in the early part of the second millennium. The use of paper in finance spread to Europe, where it became the key technology supporting the rise of banks in the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance. We describe the rise of central banks in Europe, starting from Sweden and ending with Germany and Italy. We draw several lessons from these experiences. The main one is that a successful money is a private–public partnership, where “public administration” and “private interest” combine and complement each other. The chapter ends with the birth of telecommunication in the nineteenth century and its early applications at the beginning of the twentieth century, which gave rise to radical changes in monetary technology in the subsequent period.

This chapter expands on and completes the analysis of Aristides’ political use of lyric. It argues that both Athens and Rome are depicted by the sophist through lyric and song imagery, and that these musical representations allow for a comparison between the two cities and how Aristides conceived of their role as imperial centres. Among other texts, a close reading of the celebration of past and present Athens in Or. 1 and that of imperial Rome in Or. 26 shows that the ways in which the two capitals ‘make music’ foreground some important similarities between their imperial politics. At the same time, Athenian and Roman ‘music’ point to the difference between Greek and Roman political cultures and approaches. Rather than indicating a critical attitude towards the current Empire, however, Aristides’ musical depiction of Athens and Rome is open to ambiguity and enables different co-existing interpretations, adding complexity and depth to our understanding of the political dimension of Aristides’ corpus.

This chapter explores Percy Shelley’s lifelong engagement with ‘empire’ by focusing on some of his major poems. His fascination with the ruins of empires, both ancient and modern, leads to a thorough critical examination of imperial violence. In Prometheus Unbound, Shelley redefines ‘empire’ as self-government that limits imperial dominance, which has far-reaching and international repercussions, as seen in the Gandhians’ resistance against British rule. Shelley goes on to examine the nature of empire in his final unfinished poem, ‘The Triumph of Life’, in which a triumphal chariot, the relentless force of empire originating from ‘Imperial Rome’, continues the cycle of subjugation throughout history. Against this chariot, Shelley places a resisting poet/narrator, who is asked, along with the readers of contemporary and future generations, to undertake the difficult task of envisioning a future unbound by imperial chains after the collapse of ‘empire’.

Archdeacon Hildebrand, who became Pope Gregory VII (r. 1073–85), is associated with a radical and swift change in the Roman Church. The vision of a Christendom jointly administered by emperor and clergy, the famous model advanced by Pope Gelasius II (r. 492–96), was transformed into a new order where regnum and sacerdotium occupied separate stacked spheres, with the spiritual claiming superiority. Unlike tenth-century reform movements, the later eleventh-century Roman reforms centered on the papacy. Popes assembled a curia featuring more professional officials, legates, councils, and other technologies of power. The reformed Church cultivated trained lawyers and sympathetic lay leaders. It has been credited with launching a legal “big bang,” the invention of propaganda, the creation of a semi-institutionalized public sphere, and the formation of a persecuting society. Closer examination of institutional changes helps reveal the achievements and limits of this “new world order.”

Papal tombs are a primary source for the study of papal politics. This chapter gives a chronological overview of papal burials, from early Christendom to the end of the fifteenth century. It addresses questions of burial preferences, church topography (especially in St. Peter’s and St. John Lateran in Rome), as well as the individual appearance of each monument. For the late Middle Ages, the importance of artists to formal innovation is underlined (Arnolfo di Cambio) and set in relation to the patron’s choice of traditions the monument is meant to refer to in its placement and appearance – to antique, French, or Italian models. The increasing number of funeral monuments for members of the Church hierarchy, as well as for laymen, kings, and nobles, starting in the thirteenth century, stiffened the competition in monumental burial and increased the need to develop appropriate papal features.

This chapter delves into the intricate social, political, and theological mechanisms that progressively linked the historical figure of Saint Peter the Apostle to the city of Rome, and, more specifically, the Roman Church, from the late fourth to the late sixth centuries. The central argument posits that the escalations of papal authority during this era, especially those rhetorically justified by ties to the historical Peter, were predominantly aspirational. These escalations often surfaced as a direct counter-response to local or international humiliations. Consequently, this chapter challenges the traditional historiographical narrative of a perpetually powerful and assertive late-ancient papacy that ushered the Church into the Middle Ages from a vantage point of strength and acknowledged authority. It presents a nuanced perspective that acknowledges the complexities and realities of the time.

During the thirteenth century, stories began to circulate in Rome of the existence of a female pope. What likely began as popular satire was eagerly picked up by monastic chroniclers who had their own axes to grind. For the papacy, the existence of a female pope – most commonly called Joan – only became problematic after the Reformation, when Protestants saw an opportunity to use these medieval (and therefore Catholic) authorities to challenge the papal apostolic succession and identify the papacy with the biblical Whore of Babylon. The arguments employed by both sides are hugely revealing of how Catholics and Protestants saw themselves and each other. More recently, Pope Joan has moved into the realm of fiction: in film and literature she became a feminist icon. Transgender readings – Joan as man in a woman’s body, rather than a woman in a man’s garment – are bound to inspire new interpretations of her story.

The cooperative relationship between pope and city is the subject of this chapter. First, this chapter examines the political maneuvers necessary to execute change in Rome’s built environment and traces the conflict over jurisdiction between civic and papal polities, particularly over matters of urban improvements, licensing, and taxation. The papacy has long been a catalyst for transformation in Rome’s complex and layered urban landscape. Second, this chapter considers the ideology of the cityscape and the tradition of pilgrimage, historically and in our global age. From Martin V’s return in 1420, the papacy aimed to establish Rome as the epicenter of Christendom through its temporal and spiritual authority. As Christendom expanded through exploration and missionary efforts, so too did its capital. Popes continued to influence public space during the tumultuous period after the Unification of Italy, when fierce political rivalry materialized in the spaces of the city.

Papal ceremonial acted as a language through which the pope and clergy described Catholic identity, history, and moral ideals, establishing a liturgy and ceremonial practice that could be adapted to changing circumstances in Rome and beyond. Topography did not restrict papal ceremonial but enhanced it. Rather than seeing the pope as a prisoner of his ceremonial, as some stereotypes do, this chapter explores papal ceremonial as a language that articulated narratives of authority, responded to crises, and bridged gaps. From late antiquity through the twenty-first century, liturgy, politics, urban administration, and pilgrimage/tourism grew together in cities across the Christian world. As technology has eased communication and travel, the pope has sought more direct ways to speak to Catholics, yet the public maintains an interest in the papacy that grew out of fascination with its premodern ceremonial character.