This chapter identifies three key features of theological discourse in the Roman empire during the first six centuries CE. First, theological language remained shared across the ‘pagan’–Christian divide. Secondly, truthfulness of religious practice was a central theological concern. Thirdly, theology progressively became the remit of professionals, philosophers and bishops. Offering an alternative understanding of the Christianisation of the Roman empire, the chapter argues that, from a Certeaunian perspective, the loss of plausibility that Late Antique ‘paganism’ suffered is reflected in the way in which Neoplatonist discourse distorted the balance between theology and ritual by fully subsuming the latter to the former.

This chapter introduces the notion of the Byzantine Church and provides an overview of the chapters in The Cambridge Companion to the Byzantine Church. The Byzantine Church, while portrayed in the Nicene–Constantinopolitan Creed as ‘the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church’, was also multifaceted and multivocal. It was a canonical and conciliar entity, and yet the mystical embodiment of Christ. It was the wellspring of theology, the ark of salvation and the liturgical world of the faithful. Although Christianity was a corporate endeavour, there were ‘many different ways of being related to this one Church, and many different ways of being separated from it’ in the adventure of human freedom. The Cambridge Companion to the Byzantine Church explores these intricate dimensions of the Christian Church—its theology, art and liturgy—during its sojourn in Byzantium, as well as its afterlife in the wake of the demise of the Byzantine Empire in 1453. It focuses on how the laity encountered the mystery of God through sacred rituals and the liturgical arts, showing that the Byzantine Church was a body of people who shared a way of life in Christ.

This chapter explores the nature and mechanisms of diplomacy in the Greek and Roman worlds, examining how ancient societies managed interstate relations in the absence of modern diplomatic institutions. It argues that while ancient diplomacy lacked formal structures like embassies or foreign ministries, it was nonetheless a sophisticated and essential practice grounded in legal, religious and social norms. The chapter analyses the roles of actors such as ambassadors, heralds and hostages, and the use of instruments like treaties, oaths, gifts and kinship diplomacy. It highlights the fluid boundaries between public and private, law and custom, and emphasises the adaptability of diplomatic practices across time and cultures. Drawing on examples from classical Greece, republican and imperial Rome, and late Antiquity, the chapter shows how diplomacy evolved in response to shifting political realities, and how it reflected broader cultural values and power dynamics. Ultimately, it contends that diplomacy in antiquity was a vital tool for managing conflict, asserting hegemony and fostering co-operation, even if it did not conform to modern definitions.

This chapter critically examines the existence and conceptualisation of ‘international law’ in the Greek and Roman world from 600 BC to AD 650. It challenges traditional minimalist views that exclude antiquity from the history of international law and proposes a recalibrated approach grounded in conceptual history. By analysing legal practices, treaties and philosophical notions such as jus gentium and dikaion koinon, the chapter explores how ancient societies regulated interpolity relations. It introduces eight analytical dichotomies – such as inside/outside, city state/empire, and law/non-law – to frame the discussion. Through case studies on war, diplomacy, trade and dispute resolution, the chapter argues that while ancient international law did not exist in a modern sense, it functioned as a prototype for legal norms governing relations between autonomous entities. The chapter concludes that international law in antiquity was not merely a precursor but a meaningful legal system in its own right, shaped by the need to structure a complex and often hostile world.

This chapter analyzes historical declamation as an advanced stage of fiction training in the Roman rhetorical curriculum. It argues that rhetorical exercises, especially controversiae and suasoriae, fostered the skills of fictionalization through revisionist reimaginings of the Greek past. Exploring a wide corpus of exercises about Alexander the Great, the chapter demonstrates how students were trained to compose plausible fictions within recognizable historical frameworks. Drawing on rhetorical handbooks, school papyri, and declamations, it reconstructs four dominant themes: impersonations of Alexander and his circle; inter-polis disputes in the shadow of Macedonian conquest; “travel advisories” debating the limits of Alexander’s empire; and “postmortem” scenarios reflecting Alexander’s legacy. These exercises strengthened students’ command over the techniques of impersonation, pseudo-documentarism, and meta-exemplarity. The chapter also shows how historical declamations modelled indirect reflection on imperial power. Rather than transmitting historical truth, revisionist fictions taught students how to manipulate exempla and construct immersive alternatives to the Roman present.

The expansion of the Roman Empire into the Mediterranean in the early second century BCE represented a gradual diminution of the independence and autonomy of the Greek cities. At the same time, processes internal to the poleis were moving them in a more elitist direction, as the “big benefactors,” ultrawealthy men who bestowed ever-greater favors on their cities, moved toward monopolizing participation in civic magistracies. The council and other political bodies became off-limits to citizens who were not among the euergetistic elite. Still, democratic institutions and ideas of the previous period persisted, especially in the popular assembly. Christianity, the centralization of administrative power in the Roman Empire under Constantine, and various crises combined to deprive the cities of the last vestiges of dēmokratia in the fourth century CE, when popular assemblies largely disappear from the poleis.

Chapter 6 (Mishnah ‘Abodah Zarah 3:4 and the Bad Faith Argument): In this chapter, I analyze the existing scholarship on the much-discussed narrative of Rabban Gamliel in the Bathhouse of Aphrodite in m. ‘Abodah Zarah 3:4. I then propose that Rabban Gamliel’s response to Proclus within the story is, in fact, best understood as a deployment of the “Bad Faith Argument.”

An examination of the identity of the ancient Britons as described, and largely invented, first by the Romans and then by subsequent generations of medieval writers, including Gildas, Nennius, Geoffrey of Monmouth and Thomas Malory. That identity proved both long-lasting and influential, especially among literary figures, down to the twentieth century.

This chapter situates classical education in late antique Gaul in its historical context, positioning the work within the current scholarly debates, and building on recent scholarship on late antique Gaul. Arranged thematically, Chapter 2 considers key developments in the political and military relationships between the western Roman empire, Gallo-Romans and barbarian groups, the prospects and prosperity of Gallo-Roman aristocrats, the increasing dominance of the Church and bishops in daily life, and the vitality and continuity of Gallo-Roman cities. It considers the conditions necessary for classical education to thrive and function and discusses how the structures that fostered education were affected by the political, military, religious, and cultural transformations of fifth-century Gaul.

The concluding chapter reflects upon how the themes and questions explored in the book speak to familiar concerns of families, communities, and societies across time. What is the purpose of education? What do we expect of our education, and in what ways does our pursuit of knowledge and our learning define who we are? The conclusion draws together the arguments from the preceding chapters, considering in what ways the ‘fall’ of Rome meant the end of the schools of grammar and rhetoric in Gaul. Without the superstructure of the Roman empire, the socio-political culture that valued literary education disappeared, and the schools soon followed suit; it was not primarily material changes caused by the political, cultural, and religious upheavals of the fifth century that led to the decline of the schools, but rather marked changes in the attitudes and mindset towards education and learning of the emerging power brokers of post-imperial Gaul – the barbarian kingdoms and the Church.

This chapter focuses on the practical aspects of education, such as the organisation and funding of the classical schools. It traces the status of classical education as a public institution in the late imperial period, during the transformations of the fifth century, and within the early barbarian successor kingdoms. The chapter begins by establishing the extent of direct involvement of the imperial government in education, arguing that cities and individuals had always played a far more important role in patronising and funding classical schools. It then considers opportunities for ‘graduates’ of classical schools in late and post-imperial Gaul, the crucial difference between literacy and literary education, and emphasises the important connection between classical education and structures of power that promote and demand literary training.

The introduction sets out the approaches, sources, and scope of the book. It acquaints the reader with the main features of classical education and places the book within the modern historiography.

Palmyra is usually studied for one of three reasons, either its role in the long-distance trade between Indian Ocean and Mediterranean, its distinctive cultural identity as visible in the epigraphic and material record from the city or its rise as an independent regional power in the Near East in the third quarter of the third century AD. While Palmyra was indeed a special place, with a private sorte, or destiny of its own, as Pliny famously expressed it (HN 5.88), the city’s ability to maintain its distinctiveness arguably rested on deep entanglements with her local and regional surroundings. This chapter addresses how the city engaged with its neighbours and its Roman imperial overlords. Actions, events and policies attested in the epigraphic record from the city and from the Palmyrene diaspora in the Roman Empire are discussed in light of theoretical insights from archaeology, sociology and economics. It is argued that Palmyra’s remarkable success built on the city’s ability to connect with the range of social networks that constituted the Roman Empire.