Mausoleum of Theodoric

Start with the stone. Put your palm flat against the lower wall and feel it. It is pale, close-grained limestone, cool even on a warm afternoon. The blocks fit tightly against one another, and their edges have softened over fifteen centuries of rain and wind. Around you, the sounds of modern Ravenna are muffled by trees and grass. Then lift your eyes to the roof. That low, smooth dome is not built from many pieces. It is one single stone.

This is the Mausoleum of Theodoric. It was built in the early sixth century as the tomb of one of the most remarkable rulers of late antiquity. Theodoric the Great was king of the Ostrogoths, a Germanic people who had moved through the Balkans in the fifth century. In the 490s he led them into Italy and defeated Odoacer, the man who had ended the line of western Roman emperors. From that moment, Theodoric ruled Italy, and he chose Ravenna as his capital.

Theodoric is a man of two worlds, and that matters here. As a boy he lived for years in Constantinople, the great Roman capital in the east. He was held there as a hostage to guarantee his people's good behaviour. In practice, he grew up close to the imperial court. He saw Roman administration, Roman law and Roman building at their most sophisticated. When he later ruled Italy, he kept much of the Roman system running. Roman senators served in his government, and Roman cities kept their institutions.

You can see that double identity in this building. The plan is Roman in spirit. Like the tombs of emperors, it is a centralised structure, built around a single point instead of along a long nave. The lower storey has ten sides, which gives it a solid, almost fortress-like feel. Above it sits a smaller ten-sided upper storey, and on top of that, the dome. The proportions are compact and heavy, more like a monument meant to last forever than a place meant to welcome crowds.

Now look at the material again. This limestone comes from Istria, the peninsula across the Adriatic Sea, in what is now Croatia and Slovenia. Builders in Ravenna used Istrian stone because the land around the city is flat and marshy, with no good quarries nearby. So almost every block in front of you crossed open water by ship. Most of Ravenna's famous early monuments are built of brick. Theodoric chose cut stone instead — a deliberate statement of permanence and expense.

Here is the first thing many visitors miss. The dome is a single carved monolith, roughly ten metres across. Its weight is commonly estimated at well over two hundred tonnes. Nobody knows for certain how the builders raised it to the top of the walls. There are theories involving earthen ramps, timber frameworks and great teams of people and animals. Whatever the method, it was an extraordinary piece of engineering for its time, and nothing quite like it survives anywhere else.

Walk slowly around the base and look up at the rim of the dome. You will see a ring of stone projections standing out from the edge, like stubby handles. There are twelve of them. One explanation is practical: ropes may have been passed through or around them to help lift and position the stone. Another view is symbolic, since twelve is the number of the apostles. Names connected with the apostles have been recorded on them, though weathering makes them difficult to read today.

Now look for the crack. A clear fracture runs through the dome. Locals have long told a dramatic story about it. According to one popular tale, lightning struck the roof. Another legend says Theodoric himself was killed by lightning, and that he feared storms all his life. These are stories, not history. A more likely explanation is far less romantic. The stone may have cracked while it was being moved or set into place, under its own enormous weight.

Just below the dome, around the top of the upper storey, there is a carved band of decoration. Look closely at its repeating pattern. Many scholars describe it as a pincer or tongs motif. It does not look like classical Roman ornament. Instead, it resembles the patterns found on Germanic metalwork, such as brooches and buckles of the period. This is the second surprise of the building. A Gothic king used Roman techniques, and then signed the result with a design from his own people's tradition.

Inside, the lower chamber is laid out in the shape of a cross. It is plain, dim and quiet, and the air often feels cool and slightly damp. The upper chamber is reached by an outside staircase. There, you will find a large round basin of reddish-purple stone. That stone is porphyry, a rare and very hard rock that Romans associated with emperors. Tradition holds that this basin served as Theodoric's sarcophagus, although its origins and use are still debated.

Theodoric died in 526, and his body was placed here. But his rest did not last. He and his people followed Arian Christianity, a form of the faith that differed from the doctrine of Rome and Constantinople about the nature of Christ. In the 540s, the armies of the eastern emperor Justinian took Ravenna. Under the new rulers, Arian sites were reclaimed for orthodox worship. The king's remains were removed from the tomb, and the building was later turned into a church.

Notice, too, how low the mausoleum sits. The lower storey is partly sunk below the surrounding ground. This is not an accident of design. Over the centuries, the land here has slowly settled, and river silt and soil have raised the level around it. Ravenna was once close to the sea, with a major harbour nearby. Today the coast lies several kilometres to the east. The ground itself has moved around this building while the building stayed exactly where it was.

In 1996, the mausoleum was listed by UNESCO as one of the early Christian monuments of Ravenna. It stands a little apart from the others, outside the historic centre, in a quiet park. Most of those other monuments are famous for their glittering mosaics. This one has no mosaics at all. Its power comes from mass, stone and silence. Seen together, they show how many cultures met in this one city at the end of the Roman world.

Before you leave, step back across the grass and look at the whole building at once. Picture the barges crossing the Adriatic with their pale cargo. Picture the workers straining to lift a roof that weighs as much as a small ship. Then picture a king who grew up among emperors and wanted to be remembered like one. As you walk away, glance back once more. The dome is still there, cracked and steady, under the open sky.