As much as Julius Nepos refused to recognize his legitimacy and continued to hold the title in parallel until his death in 475 AD, history considers the last Western Roman emperor to be Romulus Augustulus, who was deposed ten months later by the Herulian chieftain Odoacer. Odoacer allowed him to retire to a fortress located in the southern region of Campania.
Still a child, he settled there with his family and entourage in castellum Lucullanum, an ancient villa converted into a fortress, though little else is known about his later life. This place is now known as Castel dell’Ovo, one of Naples’ tourist attractions due to the legends that arose there in later times.
Romulus Augustulus was not the only emperor to choose that site for retirement, as Tiberius had temporarily done so before him. In fact, as mentioned earlier, the origins of that secluded property—Megaride, an islet connected to the mainland by an isthmus of yellow tuff, an extension of Mount Echia into the sea—date back to the 1st century BC, when Lucius Licinius Lucullus chose it to build one of the many villas where he spent his old age after retiring from political life, in which he had made numerous enemies. Lucullus was a veteran and successful military leader in several wars, including the Social War (where he served under Sulla) and the many campaigns of the First and Third Mithridatic Wars.

During this well-earned retirement, he became a lover of literature, the arts, and the good life, leaving physical evidence of it: from the introduction of fruits imported from Asia Minor (cherry, peach, apricot) to the so-called Horti Lucullani (the gardens of what is now Villa Borghese), as well as multiple villas in Campania and Tusculum, each more magnificent than the last. These were built with noble materials and featured equally luxurious furnishings (purple curtains, gemstones, and feasts that became so renowned that the Italian adjective “lucullian” came to describe sumptuous meals).
In Parthenope, the ancient colony founded in the 7th century BC by settlers from Cumae and the precursor of modern Naples, he purchased an extensive estate that, according to estimates, stretched from the Pizzofalcone hill to Pozzuoli. There, he built a lavish mansion with arches over cliffs, waterfalls, fountains, the aforementioned new fruit trees, a vast library, fish ponds filled with various species (including moray eels, according to some sources), and countless other marvels that led to him being called the Togate Xerxes, a reference to the luxury that surrounded the Persian king’s palace.
Lucullus eventually went mad—whether from senile dementia or poisoning is unknown—and died around 56 BC, being buried in Tusculum.

Later, the Neapolitan villa came under state control and was converted into a castrum to serve as the region’s administrative and military center. Only a few remains of the original structure survive, such as column drums and a nymphaeum, as it underwent further modifications. In the late imperial period, around the mid-5th century AD, the complex was fortified by order of Valentinian III.
However, in the last quarter of that century, a community of Basilian monks settled there—a religious order from Caesarea named after their adherence to the rule of Saint Basil (though they later adopted the Benedictine rule).
Initially, the monks lived in scattered hermitages throughout the area, but they eventually formed a monastery, possibly at the initiative of Romulus Augustulus (who, as noted, had been living there for five years after his abdication) or more likely at the behest of his mother, Barbaria, as some historical sources suggest. Interestingly, the Basilians maintained an active scriptorium during the Middle Ages, likely making use of the remaining books from Lucullus’ library.

The Megaride isthmus was renamed San Salvatore by the monks. However, little remains of the monastery today beyond its monumental entrance and the ruins of the namesake church. In the 9th century, the complex was severely damaged by Muslim forces after they besieged it to capture Bishop Athanasius, who had sought refuge within its walls. Then, in the 10th century, the Dukes of Naples demolished it to prevent it from falling into Saracen hands. The monks relocated to Pizzofalcone Hill.
Inevitably, over time, defensive structures were rebuilt, as evidenced by the fact that in 1140, Roger II of Sicily took residence there after conquering Naples.
He himself ordered the construction of a castle by his architect Buono di Napoli, although he barely used it, as the political and administrative center of the Italian Normans was based elsewhere, in the newly completed Castel Capuano. As a result, it remained a solid coastal stronghold, popularly known as the Tower of the Normans.

From Norman rule to Swabian control, with Roger’s daughter Constance of Hauteville serving as the bridge, the castle was reinforced, and in 1222, Frederick II of Hohenstaufen added three more towers (Tower of Colleville, Torre Maestra, and Tower of the Middle), as he first established the royal treasury there, followed by the royal residence and state prison. Later came the Angevin rule, during which the court was once again moved elsewhere (to the famous Castel Nuovo, which still dominates the port today), though the treasury remained at the isthmus, well protected by new fortifications.
In fact, it remained an impregnable prison that housed figures such as the Sicilian kings Conradin of Hohenstaufen and the family of his nephew, Manfred (his second wife, Helena of Epirus, his children, and his sister-in-law Constance Augusta), after both were defeated by Charles of Anjou in their struggle to control Sicily.
By then, the castle was known as chateau de l’Oeuf or castrum Ovi Incantati, due to a curious legend that, while referring to Antiquity, was actually from the Late Middle Ages, probably contemporary to the events just described.

According to the tale, the famous poet Virgil, author of the Aeneid and an illustrious resident of Roman Naples, had hidden a magical egg in the dungeons, which had the power to keep the entire structure standing on its own. Its breaking would not only cause the architectural collapse but also bring misfortune to the city.
This was nothing more than a simplistic way of explaining the site’s name, Castle of the Egg, which was actually due to the oval shape that the aforementioned Buono di Napoli gave it when designing the plans for Roger II.
The legendary version, thus placed in the 13th century, was recorded by Bartolomeo Caracciolo Carafa in his work Chronichrimo tempio, explaining that Virgil, an expert in agronomic matters, had advised the magister civicum in urban sanitation works with such success that the frequent epidemics caused by the lack of sewage systems finally ended. For this, he earned a reputation as a magician—something undoubtedly reinforced by the fact that his mother belonged to the gens Magia.

But the legend took such hold that a hundred years later, when a new partial collapse occurred in the castle, Queen Joanna I of Naples, daughter of the Duke of Calabria, Charles of Anjou, and Maria of Valois (sister of the French king Philip VI), had to promise the people that she had obtained another magical egg to reinforce the building after its repair.
Little did she know that she would end up imprisoned there by order of her nephew, Charles III, who overthrew her with the support of Pope Urban VI of Rome, since she was a follower of the Avignon Antipope Clement VII.
France’s struggle against the Crown of Aragon first, and later against Spain, for control of Naples caused the castle to suffer new and perhaps even more severe damage than before, given that artillery was now commonly used. As a result, the subsequent reconstructions were adapted to the times, incorporating octagonal towers, thicker walls, and defenses not only facing the sea but also inland. During the Bourbon period, cannons and drawbridges were even installed, shifting its use from residential to purely military purposes.

For example, the Spanish used the castle as a base to bombard the streets of Naples during the 1647 rebellion led by the revolutionary Massaniello against high taxes, in the context of a subsistence crisis, with the classic cry of Long live the king, and down with bad government! Over the following centuries, it also retained its role as a prison, with its dungeons holding the philosopher Tommaso Campanella (for the dual crime of heresy and conspiracy to rebel), Jacobin leaders, and, in the 19th century, prominent Carbonari and liberals such as Carlo Poerio, Francesco de Sanctis, and Luigi Settembrini.
With the unification of Italy, Castel dell’Ovo became state property, falling into neglect and abandonment to the point that in 1871, the Associazione degli Scienziati, Letterati e Artisti proposed demolishing it to make way for a new neighborhood. Fortunately, the motion did not pass, and the castle remained, though increasingly deteriorated. Some families of sailors and fishermen even settled in it after World War II until 1980, when they were evicted as part of a restoration plan approved five years earlier.
Today, it serves as a venue for various events, reinforcing the cultural, tourist, and recreational character of its surroundings, alongside numerous restaurants and the Borgo Marinari marina.
This article was first published on our Spanish Edition on August 30, 2023: La fascinante historia de Castel dell’Ovo, la fortaleza a la que se retiró el último emperador romano
SOURCES
Plutarco, Vidas paralelas
Sergei Ivanovich Kovaliov, Historia de Roma
Gino Chierici, Riccardo Filangeri di Candida, Amalfi
Comune di Napoli, Il Castel dell’Ovo
Wikipedia, Castel dell’Ovo
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