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Remember way back when the Trojans were “eating their tables”? Well, in Book 11 their tables seem to be turning. Seems like just yesterday Aeneas was raging as Rambo and Turnus was carrying himself with Hector-like respectability. Sed ecce!—Aeneas is handing out truces like sticks of Big Red and actually validating hurt Latin feelings, while Turnus’ allies are turning against him and blaming him for the whole mess. Even old Diomedes is once bitten, twice shy, telling the Latins there is no way he’s tangling with Venus or her son ever again. So that’s it? It’s over? Not quite—Turnus has a couple of aces up his sleeve, including a spear-swift, water-walking, grain-skipping warrior maiden who is juuuuuust over the horizon.

This week there’s more gore in store for shor as Aeneas gets his rage on and goes full Achilles.  The carnage reaches such a fever pitch that it raises a number of sticky questions: Is Aeneas just a puppet of Fate? If so, can we hold him culpable for the horrible things he perpetrates on the battlefield?  When does embossing your baldric with mythic scenes stop being a flex and start being a “bit much”? Keep your head down, dodge those flying body parts, and see if you can tell who’s who as Aeneas meets his possible doppelganger between spear chuckings. You know what they say—double your alter ego symbolic foreshadowing stand-ins, double your fun.

Check out Jeff's new "Peregrinatio" series (Google Earth Archaeological Virtual Tours):

Ancient Dodona (the Oracle of Zeus)

Ancient Epidauros (the healing sanctuary of Asklepios)

This week Jeff and Dave are back at the Aeneid, wading into some deep waters murky and redolent with the unfulfilled wishes of Jupiter. As full-scale war erupts on the Latian plain, Venus and Juno bring their high-pitched quarrel to the king of Olympus, whose own hands, it turns out, are tied by the Parcae. As the Fates roll around in their El Camino, cutting short the threads of numerous heroes Sarpedon-like, men are dying on the field of battle like a scene straight out of the Iliad. But it's not just questions of fate, of popsicle sticks, glue, and Fort Ticonderoga that occupy our sally into divine destiny. Along the way there is also room for Vergil's frowzy digression on Ascanius' lustral locks. What is he, a trichologist? Perhaps our poet was himself glabrous, and that explains his odd obsession with the young Iulus' quiffs and frisettes? We comb through the evidence, attempting to answer this, and more.

The guys take a brief break from Vergil this week to talk about some of Dave's recent translation work. The theme is Scottish divine Samuel Rutherford (1600-1661) and his Scholastic magnum opus Examen Arminianismi ('A Careful Review of Arminianism'). This is for a forthcoming publication by Reformation Heritage Books. After spending a little time on Rutherford's bio and background - including pedagogy of the 17th century - we get into some of the nuances and challenges of Scholastic Latin. Its plain, unadorned style, jawbreaking adverbs and abstruse, Thomistic constructions (indeclinabiliter, reduplicative, in facto esse, in fieri), and repetition for the sake of clarity, all come under the microscope. So if you're interested in the translator's task, in 17th century theological Latin, in some of the politics and controversy of the life of a famous Puritan, then be sure to tune in for this one!

Tune in this week as the guys wrap up Aeneid 9 and take a look at the fallout and aftermath of Nisus' and Euryalus' disastrous midnight raid. When the Rutulians wake to the bloody devastation, its off to besiege the city in which the Trojans, sans Aeneas, are hiding. In this "reverse Iliad", we find the foreign aggressors -- Aeneas and company -- besieged within a city by the invaded inhabitants on the plain. Along the way, we're met with an interesting digression in which Vergil honors motherhood with a threnody from Euryalus' otherwise anonymous mother. He also gives us another invocation of the muse, this time of Calliope, inspiratrix of epic poetry. As full-scale war breaks out, we see Turnus unleashed, and another little hero step forward: Ascanius, Aeneas' son. In his martial aristeia, he dispatches the Rutulian braggart Numanus, after a real, real long monologue. There may be some limericks and lighthearted moments along the way, but don't look for any spoilers here!

"Who drives us to outrageous action? Is it some god, or does each man make of his own desire a god, which then drives him furiously to a violent end"? This is the question we consider this week as we turn to the final quarter of the epic (books 9-12). And we are treated to two surprising events: first, how the ships of the Trojans are transformed into mermaids, shocking Turnus and his gathered Rutulians. Juno is up to her old tricks, and sends along Iris the messenger to tell him not to worry, the Trojans will be trapped in Italy where they can be easy prey for the indigenous hero and his assorted forces. Aeneas is off-scene, still wandering through the regions of Arcadia, securing alliances with Evander and company. The second episode is the midnight raid of Nisus and Euryalus. In a nod to – or perhaps improvement upon – Homer's Iliad 10 and the gruesome death of Dolon at the hands of Odysseus and Diomedes, Vergil here tells his own tragic story of two friends overtaken by greed and a desire for bloodlust. It's not all grim, however. Along the way you can spot silos of Pringles™, the grit of Fig Newtons™, a brief excursion to the admittedly grim Battle of the Little Big Horn, and some Uncrustables™. One might say that mixing the serious with the silly has become Jeff and Dave's ™. So tune in!  

This week the guys wrap up Book VIII of Vergil's epic by discussing Aeneas' amazing shield. Wrought by the ignipotens fire-forger Vulcan at the lascivious behest of his sometime bride Venus, the shield is an ekphrasis of Roman history. But how does it compare to its predecessor, that of Achilles from Iliad XVIII? Is it, in Jeff's words, "too on the nose"? Or are there deeper meanings beneath the oxhide? And how does Aeneas compare to Odysseus in terms of plausible humanity? Should he tell some lies or bump some fists to seem more real? Come along for these questions and more — complete with tedious detours through Dante, supines, album covers, early Christian apologists, and Disney's Beauty and the Beast™! Did they leave out anything from this one? 

This week Jeff and Dave launch into the fascinating, often misunderstood world of Rome way, way back before there were Romans. As Aeneas readies for battle in the idyllic landscape, he needs some allies. So it's off a-paddlin' to Arcadia, where the rustic Greek king Evander and his momentous son Pallas make ready allies. While enjoying some old-fashioned hospitality, Evander tells our hero the long, digressive backstory of Greece's mightiest avenger: Hercules. On the way back from rustlin' Spanish cattle, Hercules got rustled himself by the smoke-belching Cacus. This troglodytic monster must be killed. But what does this mean for the epic as a whole and for Vergil's view of the Pax Augusta? Well to find out, warm up your jerri-can of coffee, chill your bucket of Diet Coke, and tuck in for a classical repast past its prime not at all.

In this Christmas-themed episode Jeff and Dave take a break from the Aeneid to look at Luke's Gospel, chapter 2:1-5, and the puzzling census of Quirinius. Drawing from half a dozen scholarly articles on the subject, we try to puzzle out the four major objections to Luke's reliability as a historian on the topic of the census:

“1. Apart from the gospel, history knows nothing of a general Imperial census in the time of Augustus.

You won't want to miss this thorough look at the subject, complete with some excellent intro. and outro. music generously provided by guitar wizard extraordinaire Jeff Scheetz.

The guys wrap up their look at Book 7 this week but not before transgressing a few more liminal spaces. When Latinus throws up his hands at the storm gathering around him and his neighbors, it is up to Juno herself to descend and open the Gates of War. While this is the moment in the epic where the Iliadic violence of the second half is officially unleashed, these Gates also point to a Roman reality—the Temple of Janus and the Gates of War in the Roman Forum. A (worthy, we think) digression takes us into the history of these gates and this strange, two-faced deity. We end with a breakdown of Turnus’ puzzling fashion choices on the battlefield, and a glimpse at the extraordinary swift-footed, wheat-sprinting, water-skipping warrioress, Camilla.  Keep an eye on this gal.