Resultados para "elliott" en Antigua

In the middle of the second century AD, Rome was at its prosperous and powerful apex. The emperor Marcus Aurelius reigned over a vast territory that stretched from Britain to Egypt. The Roman-made peace, or Pax Romana, seemed to be permanent. Then, apparently out of nowhere, a sudden sickness struck the legions and laid waste to cities, including Rome itself. This fast-spreading disease, known now as the Antonine plague, may have been history’s first pandemic. Soon after its arrival, the Empire began its downward trajectory toward decline and fall.

Septimius Severus was Rome's black emperor. Born in the blistering heat of a North African spring in Leptis Magna AD 145, he died in the freezing cold of a northern British winter in York in AD 211. A giant of an emperor, whose career can be counted in superlatives, Severus was in power at the height of Rome's might. He led the largest army to ever campaign in Britain, comprising 50,000 men, part of a Roman military establishment which peaked at 33 legions under his rule. Born into the richest family, in the richest part of the Roman Empire, Severus monumentalised his rule across the empire.

He ruled for sixty-seven years. Built temples that dwarfed time. Fought the greatest chariot battle in history. Buried sons. Married goddesses. Made peace with empires. Rewrote the past. Refused to die. And three thousand years later, we’re still saying his name. RAMSES: The Pharaoh Who Wouldn’t Die is the story of Egypt’s loudest legend. The builder-king who turned himself into a monument, refused to step down, and became a god before his heart even stopped beating.

When most people think of ancient civilisations, a familiar handful tends to dominate the conversation: the mighty Romans, with their vast empire and stone-built legacy; the brilliant Greeks, whose philosophies still shape our thinking today; and the majestic Egyptians, architects of timeless pyramids and enduring mysteries. These towering cultures have been etched into our collective memory—and rightly so. But history is far deeper and more intricate than its greatest hits.