Of all the peoples along Rome’s northern frontier, the Dacians were the best-organized,
the best-armed, and – at least before the advent of the Huns – the most formidable in
war. When united under one king, their armies, equipped with fearsome sickle-shaped swords,
were fully capable of standing against the might of the Roman legions.
The first Roman invasion of Dacia, staged by a provincial governor during the reign of Domitian,
was a disaster. Led by their dynamic young king Decebalus, the Dacians ambushed the
Roman army in a narrow pass, killing the commanding general and thousands of his men.
Two years later, in the wake of a more successful raid,
the Romans concluded a peace treaty with the Dacians. King Decebalus was allowed
to remain in power, and granted an annual subsidy in return for keeping the peace.
By the time Trajan became emperor a decade later, Decebalus had used Roman money to
strengthen his kingdom’s fortifications, build sophisticated artillery, and forge
alliances with neighboring tribes. Dacia, in short, was stronger than ever before.
Trajan was disquieted by this. The Dacians had become a serious threat to the security of the
Danube provinces. The subsidies paid to them each year were expensive and humiliating. And
Trajan himself – newly established in power – was in need of military laurels. For all
these reasons, Trajan launched a massive invasion of Dacia in the spring of 101.
Our sources for the Dacian Wars are exceptionally poor. Besides
a cursory Byzantine epitome of Cassius Dio, no narrative history survives. The reliefs of
Trajan’s Column in Rome are thought to illustrate Trajan’s own (lost) account
of the campaigns. But as works of art – and especially as works of art shaped by
stylizing craftsmen and a political agenda – they are subject to divergent interpretations.
We do know, however, that as Trajan advanced into Dacia, he received
a warning – written on a large mushroom – from a local tribe,
warning him to turn back. The message was disregarded; the fate of the fungus is unknown.
Trajan encountered the Dacian army at Tapae, at the head of one of the few passes leading
into Transylvania from the south. After a hard-fought battle – during which the
emperor cut his cloak into strips to be used as bandages – the Romans put the Dacians to flight.
The following year, after inconclusive negotiations with Decebalus,
the invasion resumed. The Roman army divided into three columns and plunged into the Dacian
heartland. Stronghold after stronghold fell. As the columns approached the Dacian capital,
Decebalus sued for peace, laying his weapons down at Trajan’s feet and pleading for mercy.
Trajan granted it, on the conditions that the Dacians surrender their artillery and engineers,
demolish their forts, and withdraw from territories they had recently captured.
These terms were accepted, and Trajan returned to Rome, celebrating a triumph soon after. Over the
next few years, the Romans built up their defenses along Dacia’s southern frontier,
most impressively by constructing a colossal bridge over the Danube.
This was the south approach of Trajan’s great bridge over
the Danube. I’m standing on the Serbian bank, looking towards Romania. The bridge
stretched to the opposite shore – more than two-thirds of a mile – on 20 massive piers,
an imposing reminder of Roman power, and a highway for the legions.
Decebalus, however, had no intention of remaining subordinate to Rome. Soon,
he began openly harboring Roman refugees and making alliances with tribes hostile
to Rome. At last, in the summer of 105, Trajan was provoked into another invasion of Dacia.
The Romans came in overwhelming force, sweeping aside a Dacian army at Tapae.
Decebalus had attempted to have Trajan assassinated by a group of Roman deserters,
but the plot was discovered. Growing desperate, Decebalus captured a high-ranking Roman named
Longinus and tried to use him as a bargaining chip. Longinus, however,
drank poison in captivity, and Trajan continued his advance on Sarmizegetusa, the Dacian capital.
This is Costești, one of the fortresses that guarded the Dacian capital. It was protected
by a triple ring of walls, the lowest of which – just below – was four meters thick. It was built
with the so-called murus dacicus technique, faced with stone, but packed with earth and
charred timber. It was destroyed, with the rest of the fort, by the advancing Romans.
For the climax of the Second Dacian War, we have no good textual evidence. The Romans
seem to have besieged Sarmizegetusa, though it’s unclear for how long.
This is Sarmizegetusa Regia, the capital of Decebalus. It consisted of a series of
terraces near the summit of a mountain. At the top were the royal palace and fortress;
and here, just below, and tied to the palace by a processional way,
was the sacred area. The dedications of these temples are unknown, but their monumentality – as
evidenced by the famous andesite sun altar, just below us – is still evident.
When, or just before, Sarmizegetusa fell, Decebalus escaped into the mountains.
Pursued by Roman cavalry, he committed suicide to avoid capture. After his body was discovered,
the head was sent to Trajan, and then on to Rome, where it was hurled down the Gemonian Steps.
The heart of the Dacian kingdom became a Roman province. An enormous garrison – perhaps totaling
as many as 60,000 men – was moved into the territory, along with vast contingents of
colonists from south of the Danube. Within a few years, Roman cities were rising across Dacia,
and the gold mines of the Carpathians were filling the empire’s coffers.
Along with the royal treasures of Decebalus – which had been hidden in caves and beneath the
bed of a river – this windfall provided Trajan with the funds to build his spectacular Forum,
one of the most expensive construction projects in Roman history. At the heart
of this glittering complex, flanked by Greek and Latin libraries, was the famous column,
whose spiraling reliefs still tell the story of Rome’s conquest of Dacia.
For an equally fascinating but less well-known monument to Trajan’s victory,
check out my video on the mysterious Trophy of Trajan in Adamclisi, Romania,
which is linked in the description and onscreen.
My new book – Insane Emperors, Sunken Cities,
and Earthquake Machines – is now available as a paperback, e-book,
and audiobook. You can buy your copy through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or your local bookstore.
For more toldinstone content, check out my channels Toldinstone Footnotes and Scenic Routes
to the Past, which are linked in the description. Please consider joining other viewers
in supporting toldinstone on Patreon. Thanks for watching.