Philippi

Listen to the ground first. Under your shoes, marble slabs lie loose and tilted. Some have shifted over centuries of earthquakes and rain. Between them, dry grass pushes through. Cicadas fill the air in summer, and the wind comes down from the hills behind you. Above the ruins, a rocky slope rises toward the old acropolis, where broken towers stand against the sky. This is Philippi. You are standing about fifteen kilometres from the coast at Kavala, on a broad plain that once made men rich and decided the fate of an empire.

Before it had its famous name, this place was a small settlement called Krenides. The name means "the springs", and the springs are still part of the story. Colonists from the island of Thasos settled here in the fourth century before Christ. They came for the land, the water, and something more valuable. The mountain you can see to the south-west is Mount Pangaion. Its slopes held gold and silver, and everyone in the region knew it.

That gold drew a powerful neighbour. In 356 BCE, Philip the Second of Macedon took control of the settlement. He was the father of Alexander the Great. Philip fortified the town, brought in new settlers, and gave it his own name. Philippi became a royal outpost on the edge of Macedon. The mines of Pangaion helped pay for the Macedonian army — the same army that Alexander later led as far as India. So in a quiet way, some of the wealth behind Alexander's conquests came from these hills.

Now turn toward the theatre, built into the slope below the acropolis. Its first form dates to the age of Philip. The stone seats curve around a flat circle, and the shape carries sound remarkably well. Later, the Romans changed it. They raised barriers around the stage area to protect spectators, because they used the theatre for animal fights and gladiator shows. Here is a detail many visitors miss: carvings of Roman gods once watched over these games. Today the theatre is alive again, hosting performances during a summer festival.

The moment that put Philippi into world history came in 42 BCE. Julius Caesar had been murdered in Rome two years before. His killers, Brutus and Cassius, gathered their armies on this plain. Against them marched Mark Antony and the young Octavian, Caesar's heir. Two great battles were fought here, a few weeks apart. Both Cassius and Brutus died by their own hands after defeat. The Roman Republic, in a real sense, ended on these fields. Octavian later became Augustus, the first Roman emperor.

After the battles, the victors settled veteran soldiers here. Philippi became a Roman colony, a small piece of Rome planted in Greek land. Latin was spoken in the streets. Inscriptions were carved in Latin, and you can still find some on the stones around you. The town also sat on the Via Egnatia, the great Roman road that linked the Adriatic coast with the east. Look for worn paving stones near the modern road. Some carry grooves cut by the wheels of carts, rolling through for centuries.

Walk down to the forum, the open square at the heart of the Roman town. This was where people met, traded, argued, and listened to officials. Columns and foundations outline the temples and public buildings that framed it. Much of what you see was rebuilt in the second century after Christ. Try to picture the square full of voices — merchants, soldiers, farmers in from the plain, and travellers from the port at Neapolis, which is the ancient name of Kavala.

That port brings us to the visitor who changed the meaning of this place. The Book of Acts, in the New Testament, tells how the Apostle Paul landed at Neapolis and walked inland to Philippi, around the middle of the first century. Beside a river outside the town, he met a woman named Lydia, a seller of purple cloth. She was baptized, along with her household. Christian tradition counts her as the first person baptized in Europe. A modern baptistery stands by that river today, a short drive from the ruins.

The same account says Paul and his companion Silas were beaten and thrown into prison here. Near the forum, you will see a small structure that tradition calls Paul's prison. It is worth being honest about it. Archaeologists believe it was originally a Roman water cistern, later honoured by early Christians as the prison site. Whether or not Paul ever stood inside it, people have come here to remember him for many centuries. Years later, Paul wrote a warm letter to this community — the Letter to the Philippians.

That early Christian memory shaped the later city. As the Roman world became Christian, Philippi filled with large churches. Look at the massive ruin called Basilica B, south of the forum. Its builders, in the sixth century, tried to raise a dome over the church. The dome failed. It seems to have collapsed before the building was ever completed. The tall piers still stand, broken at the top. Nearby are the remains of an older basilica, and further east lies an eight-sided church dedicated to Paul.

Here is a second surprise, and it is a very human one. Next to Basilica B, find the public latrine. It is a long row of marble seats, set side by side, with no walls between them. Water once flowed in a channel underneath to carry waste away. For Romans, a visit here was a social occasion. People sat together, talked, and shared news. Children usually love this spot, and adults often laugh too. It shows daily life far better than any temple can.

The city did not end in one day. Earthquakes struck, and the most damaging came in the early seventh century. Raids and wars followed. The population shrank, and people moved toward the fortified hill above. Byzantine towers on the acropolis show that the site still had military value in the Middle Ages. Slowly, though, the lower town emptied. Soil and plants covered the marble. In 2016, UNESCO added Philippi to its World Heritage List, recognising it as both a Roman city and an early centre of Christianity.

Before you leave, stand still for a moment. Look south across the plain toward the shape of Mount Pangaion. This is the same view that Philip saw when he wanted the gold, and that Brutus saw before his last battle. Look down at the stones once more — the cart ruts, the tilted slabs, the green weeds between them. Then listen. The cicadas, the wind, the voices of other visitors. Philippi is quiet now, but as you walk back toward the road, you are walking the line of an old Roman highway.