The Destructive Trek Of The ‘Ten Thousand’ Mercenaries Along The Black Sea Coast

In late 401 BCE, an army of over 10,000 Greek hoplite mercenaries fought on the side of the rebel, Cyrus the Younger, against King Artaxerxes II of Persia at the Battle of Cunaxa, which took place somewhere in Babylonia. The rebel leader, Cyrus, was slain during the battle, but the Greek mercenaries survived remarkably intact. With their employer dead and the rebellion crushed, the Greek mercenaries found themselves in an incredibly precarious situation—they were deep in foreign territory beside an army of the king they had just tried to kill. Nevertheless, the two sides maintained peace for a time.

A truce was brokered and Artaxerxes II entrusted the handling of the Greek problem to several governing satraps, including Tissaphernes, a Persian noble who was often entangled in Greco-Persian issues. The mercenaries and the watchful Persians coexisted as the Greeks marched past several villages and cities, yet at a place along what was called the Zapatas River, the situation changed drastically. Both sides blamed the other for the breakdown in relations. Greeks accused the Persians of treachery, while Persians decried the mercenaries for looting. Both sides were partially right—it appears that Tissaphernes provided the Greeks too little food at too high a price, and the mercenaries scavenged for food out of necessity. Whatever the case, the Persians arrested twenty-five of the highest-ranking mercenary officers and executed them, some immediately, and others at a later date.

After the arrest of the mercenary commanders, a group of around one hundred surviving field officers gathered to elect new leadership. The two most important of these newly elected mercenary generals were Chirisophus (a Spartan who would command the front) and Xenophon, an Athenian who took command of the rear guard. That same Xenophon would later write down the experiences of these mercenaries, remembered as the Ten Thousand, in his Anabasis Kyrou (The Upcountry March/Expedition of Cyrus).  

Under the leadership of the likes of Chirisophus and Xenophon, the mercenaries began the next phase of their journey. Persians forces were now openly hostile to the Greek mercenaries, and the stranded warriors-for-hire were often stalked and harassed. Yet, the Greeks were not the only people endangered because of the breakdown in relations. As the Greeks were no longer provided with a supply line by the Persians satraps, local villages and cities (with their food, shelter and wealth) became more and more tempting to the army of hungry mercenaries. In consequence of their foraging and looting, the Greek mercenaries made many enemies during their journey through Mesopotamia and Armenia, and finally the shores of the Black Sea.

Around 400 BCE, the mercenaries reached the Greek-populated city of Trapezus, located on the southeast end of the Black Sea. By this point, the discipline that had allowed the mercenaries to survive Persian armies and local militias in multiple roadblocks, mountain ambushes, and full-scale battles began to diminish. Upon reaching the coast of the Black Sea, more and more mercenaries began to seek loot to the point of insubordination against their commanders. To keep the troops happy (and fed), the mercenary generals were now always on the lookout for places to pillage.

The city of Trapezus was spared, but the region surrounding it was foraged to the extent that scavengers sent out by the mercenaries were gone for more than a day before returning with supplies. Meanwhile, the mercenaries received one or two ships from the Trapezuntians, with which the mercenaries tried their hand at piracy and commandeered several unlucky merchant vessels. Eventually, the people of Trapezus thought of a way to gain a respite from their rowdy guests—they sent the mercenaries off to raid a rival people, called the Drilae. Half of the mercenary army accepted the plan and invaded the Drilae lands, where they besieged and broke into a stronghold and gathered as much loot as they could before being forced out by local opposition.

After the raiders returned from the territory of the Drilae, the mercenaries decided to resume their travels. They had not commandeered enough ships to carry the reported 8,600 mercenaries who were still fit to fight, but some of the camp followers and injured were able to sail alongside the marching adventurers. Departing from Trapezus, the mercenaries and their rag-tag fleet of commandeered ships reached the nearby city of Cerasus. This city, too, was mainly populated by Greeks. Yet, the rowdiness of the mercenaries was increasing and they showed this city less respect than they did Trapezus.

According to Xenophon, a certain Clearetus and a band of warriors went rogue and attacked some villages that were under the protection of Cerasus. Three elders from the afflicted villages traveled to Cerasus to report the incident. They delivered their message, but were soon after murdered by some of the guilty mercenaries. The mercenaries also caused trouble for the Greek inhabitants of Cerasus—Xenophon claimed that a mob of angry mercenaries tried to stone an unfortunate market official named Zelarchus to death.

From Cerasus, the mercenaries bumbled their way into the midst of a civil war among a group of people known as the Mossynoecians, which roughly translates to ‘those who live in wooden towers.’ The mercenaries joined the rebel side of the conflict and besieged what the Greeks thought was the capital city of the region. The mercenaries captured the city for the rebels, but not before looting the buildings and setting fire to its wooden structures.

After helping the rebel Mossynoecians win their war, the mercenaries continued their march westward along the coast of the Black sea. They then reached the Chalybian people, who were likely spared maltreatment because they were subjects or allies of the Mossynoecian regime that the mercenaries had just helped. After the Chalybians, the Greeks encountered a group called the Tibarenians. The appraising eye of the mercenaries recognized that the land would be easy for an army to maneuver over and that the Tibarenian settlements were poorly defended. It was a tempting target for even the most pacifistic of the mercenary leaders. The Tibarenians, who likely had heard tales of the devastation left behind in the wake of this mercenary army, sent out delegates to offer the foreigners friendship and military access. Xenophon (in third person perspective) gave a blunt account of the his and his comrades’ response to these delegates: “The generals wanted to attack the villages, to give the men a little something by way of profit, so they refused to accept the tokens of friendship which arrived from the Tibarenians, but told them to wait until they had decided what to do” (Anabasis Kyrou, Book V, section 5).

After delivering this eerie response, the mercenary generals called for animal sacrifices to be performed and had diviners read omens to determine if the gods were in favor of the Greeks attacking the Tibarenians. As stated earlier, the mercenary commanders were eager to attack, so when the first sacrifice and omen reading produced a disappointing outcome, they sacrificed a second time…and a third time, so on and so forth. Xenophon described their battle with the will of the gods: “They performed sacrifices, and eventually, after many victims had been sacrificed, the diviners unanimously declared that the gods were absolutely opposed to war” (Anabasis Kyrou, Book V, section 5). With no divine support for the planned raids, the mercenaries accepted the friendship of the Tibarenian people and marched peacefully through their land to reach the Greek-inhabited city of Cotyora.

The Tibarenians were lucky, for when the mercenaries reached Cotyora, they quickly began to cause drama. Although the city and the mercenaries initially exchanged cheerful greetings, held religious processions and competed in athletic contests, the warriors-for-hire soon began to cause tension by scavenging from the local villages. The mercenaries caused such a stir that delegates from the powerful city of Sinope (the colonizer of Trapezus, Cerasus and Cotyora) arrived on the scene and told the mercenaries to behave themselves or face dire consequences.

The army, however, did not change their ways. They went on to threaten Sinope to send a fleet of transport ships for the mercenaries to use, and later attempted to extort money from the city of Heraclea. Even after the mercenaries reached Byzantium—the seat of Spartan power in the region—the roaming army remained chaotic. The mercenaries momentarily occupied Byzantium, forcing the Spartan officials to seek shelter in a stronghold. Yet, there were smooth-talkers in the ranks of the mercenaries who were able to miraculously talk the Spartans out of imposing any drastic consequences. Instead, the army left the city and offered their services to Prince Seuthes of Thrace.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Sketch of the Ten Thousand reaching the Black Sea, by Bernard Granville Baker (1870-1957), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Anabasis Kyrou (The Expedition/Upcountry March of Cyrus) by Xenophon and translated by Robin Waterfield. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005.
• https://www.ancient.eu/image/128/map-of-persia-and-the-march-of-the-ten-thousand/ 
• https://warfarehistorynetwork.com/daily/military-history/the-battle-of-cunaxa-and-the-march-of-the-10000/  

The Vibenna Brothers And Macstrna—Possibly Forgotten Tyrants (Or Kings) Of Ancient Rome

According to the traditional story laid down by Livy and other ancient Roman historians, there were only seven kings who ruled Rome during the city-state’s regal period: Romulus, Numa Pompilius, Tullus Hostilius, Ancus Marcius, Tarquinius Priscus, Servius Tullius, and Tarquinius Superbus. These seven men, at least in the traditional scheme of things, were the sole rulers of Rome for the span of about 244 years (753-509 BCE)—an average of about 35 years per king. Given that even the most stable monarchies of the ancient and medieval world all hovered at average reigns of about 20 years or less, the timeline and list of kings presented by Roman tradition has long been viewed with skepticism. In such a militarily- and politically-tumultuous region as ancient Italy, many historians are inclined to believe that numerous unknown Roman kings and tyrants existed in pre-Republic Rome, but were forgotten by the later Romans, who only began publishing their own histories around 200 BCE.

A certain Etruscan adventurer known as Macstrna is one of those possibly lost kings or tyrants of pre-Republic Rome. He was a follower of the Vibenna brothers (Caeles and Aulus), a pair of twins from Vulci, Italy, who were powerful Etruscan chieftains living around the time of the regal period in Rome. The Vibenna brothers and Macstrna were mentioned by ancient antiquarians (Varro, Verrius Flaccus) and historians (Tacitus, Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Claudius), and archeologists have found several objects bearing their images or names, some of which date back as far as the 6th century BCE. From these sources, a framework of their lives—albeit a vague and incomplete one—can be constructed to bring these figures partially out of obscurity.

Caeles and Aulus Vibenna were both powerful chieftains and can probably be classified as condottieri—warlords with enough power to operate independently of their homeland’s government. Macstrna was their most prestigious follower, and he became the right-hand man of Caeles. When the powerful brothers and Macstrna ran afoul of their own people, they apparently chose Rome as a place of exile, where they were often known as ‘Caelius’, ‘Olus’, and ‘Mastarna’. Some Romans also called the brothers by the name ‘Vivenna’ instead of Vibenna. According to ancient antiquarians and historians, Aulus and Caeles each influenced Rome their in own way. Caeles, in particular, was reportedly so helpful to the Romans that he was given an estate on one of the Seven Hills of Rome. Yet, that pales in comparison to what Aulus may have achieved—the fascinating Chronography of 354, in its Chronicle of the City of Rome, claims that Olus (as the Romans called Aulus) became a king of Rome. It must be said, however, that no other ancient historian, antiquarian, or piece of archaeology yet found has corroborated the claim of the Chronography of 354. Aulus/Olus, be he a king or a rich refugee, was said to have been eventually murdered in Rome and his remains rested on a certain Roman hill. According to tradition, when the head (caput) of Olus was later found on that hill, the Romans began calling the site the Capitoline Hill.

Caeles, Aulus and Macstrna, however, were not always friendly with Rome. One reported episode where the Vibenna brothers and their trusty champion, Macstrna, were enemies of Rome was painted in detail on a tomb wall in Vulci around the 4th century BCE—this wall was rediscovered in 1857 at a location called the François Tomb. The paintings (which were unfortunately hauled away to a private villa) showed an interesting scene that depicted the Vibenna brothers and four companions (including Macstrna) in an armed struggle against four enemies. Along with each painted figure was a written name that identified each person in the scene. Interestingly, among the men fighting the Vibenna brothers was a man labeled by the original painter as ‘Cneve Tarchunies Rumach,’ which can be Latinized to Gnaeus Tarquinius of Rome. The Tarquin family, according to Roman tradition, produced two kings of Rome (Lucius Tarquinius Priscus and Lucius Tarquinius Superbus)—nevertheless, it must be said that no Gnaeus Tarquinius was ever mentioned in the traditional Tarquin family trees provided by ancient historians.

Upon analyzing the painting further, scholars discovered clues that led them to make an interesting theory about the meaning of the scene. In the painting, Macstrna can be seen cutting binding rope from the hands of his friend, Caeles Vibenna. Additionally, all but one of the Vibenna party was painted in the nude, whereas all of the opposing faction was depicted with some sort of clothing. Scholars have interpreted these clues to mean that the Vibenna brothers and their associates had been captured and imprisoned by Gnaeus Tarquinius of Rome. The single clothed Vibenna supporter, scholars theorize, then orchestrated a successful prison break, allowing the naked (but now armed) escapees to overcome their captors.

Little is known of the death of Caeles Vibenna, but when the powerful Etruscan chieftain did eventually die, it seems that his lieutenant, Macstrna, took command of the leaderless group and became a chieftain in his own right. Like the Vibenna brothers, Macstrna, too, was said to have run afoul of his Etruscan homeland and traveled to Rome. The emperor and historian, Claudius (r. 41-54), included some information about Macstrna in a speech he delivered in 48 CE, and a copy of the speech has survived on a bronze tablet found at Lyons. Claudius stated, “If we follow Etruscan sources, he [Macstrna] was once the faithful companion of Caelius Vivenna and took part in all his adventures. Subsequently, driven out by a change of fortune, he left Etruria with all the remnants of Caelius’ army and occupied the Caelian hill, naming it thus after his former leader” (Table of Lyons, ILS 212.I.8-27). The Roman historian, Tacitus (c. 56-117+), agreed with Claudius that the Caelian hill was named after Caeles/Caelius: ““the [Caelian] hill was originally called Oak Hill because of its dense growth of oak trees, and was later named ‘Caelian’ after Caeles Vibenna, an Etruscan chief who, for helping Rome, had been granted the hill as a residence by Tarquinius Priscus—or another king” (The Annals of Imperial Rome, Book IV, section 65).

After Macstrna took up residence in the late Caeles Vibenna’s estate on the Caelian hill, he apparently delved into Roman politics. According to Emperor Claudius, Macstrna ultimately became a king. The emperor offered an intriguing (but unverified) theory that linked Macstrna to one of the more popular Roman monarchs: “Servius [Tullius] changed his name (for in Etruscan his name was Mastarna), and was called by the name I have used, and he obtained the throne to the greatest advantage of the state” (Table of Lyons, ILS 212.I.8-27). As of now, however, there is still no evidence to truly link Macstrna to the Roman king, Servius Tullius, and until further evidence is found, the traditional stories of these two figures are too different to satisfactorily mesh them together. Yet, many historians do find it plausible that, instead of being another name for Servius Tullius, Macstrna could have simply been an entirely separate and unknown king or tyrant of Rome. Some theorize (again without definitive evidence) that ‘Macstrna’ is not a name, but a corrupted variant of the title, magister, which, when lengthened to magister populi, becomes an alternative title for dictator. Unfortunately, with the scant amount of information we currently have, the truth about the extent of power wielded by the Vibenna brothers and Macstrna will remain clouded in mystery.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (A scene of ancient Rome painted by Vincenzo Camuccini (1771–1844), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of Rome by Livy, translated by Aubrey de Sélincourt. New York: Penguin Classics, 2002.
• The Annals of Imperial Rome by Tacitus, translated by Michael Grant. New York: Penguin Classics, 1996. 
• The Beginnings of Rome by T. J. Cornell. New York: Routledge, 1995. 
• https://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/brill-s-new-pauly/caput-oli-e226900 
• https://www.britannica.com/place/Rome#ref387601 
• https://www.britannica.com/place/Seven-Hills-of-Rome 
• https://www.ancientworldmagazine.com/articles/brothers-vibenna/ 
• http://www.tertullian.org/fathers/chronography_of_354_16_chronicle_of_the_city_of_rome.htm
• https://oxfordre.com/classics/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780199381135.001.0001/acrefore-9780199381135-e-6788
  
  
   

The Ancient Chinese Spirit Mountains Of Bohai

In the days of the Qin and early Han Dynasty, ancient China was in the midst of an immortal-hunting fervor that infected all levels of society, including the emperors. The mysterious community of supernatural Chinese entities, known collectively as “the immortals,” had similar lives to the Greek gods—both groups were said to have rarely appeared before human eyes and both divine communities spent most of their time in isolation on holy mountains. Yet, the mountain retreats of the Chinese immortals were a bit more complex than the dwelling of the Greek gods on Olympus. According to ancient Chinese mythology, the immortals lived on huge and mobile supernatural landmasses known as spirit mountains, which, like a mirage, could be seen but not reached in the Gulf of Bohai.

Belief in the immortals and spirit mountains long predated the Qin Dynasty. In fact, the 4th-century BCE Daoist scholar, Liezi, mentioned five such spirit mountains in the text that shares his name. Yet, it was King Zheng (the First Emperor of Qin) who mobilized the empire in search of the spirit islands. Sometime after King Zheng brought all of the Chinese kingdoms under his rule in 221 BCE and declared himself to be the August Emperor, a man named Xu Fu appeared before the emperor and claimed that he had a lead on finding three of the evasive spirit mountains. These three mountain-islands were called Fangzhang, Yingzhou and Penglai, of which the last was seemingly the most important. From these magical islands, an elixir (or herb) of immortality could reportedly be obtained, which was something that the First Emperor was eager to possess. Upon hearing of Xu Fu’s proposed expedition to search for the spirit mountains in the Gulf of Bohai, the First Emperor of Qin enthusiastically agreed to the plan and reportedly put Xu Fu in command of thousands of explorers.

Although Fu Xu and other explorers spent a fortune (of the emperor’s money) on their quest to find the spirit mountains, they never made any progress. In their reports back to the First Emperor, Xu Fu and his comrades came up with a number of odd excuses for their inability to find the magical mountain abodes, such as the appearances of magical barriers or hostile aquatic guardians. According to the historian, Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE), one such message to the First Emperor read, “The herbs of Penglai can surely be obtained. But always there are large fish that cause difficulty, and therefore we are unable to reach the island” (Shi Ji, 6). In response, the emperor reportedly gave the explorers fishing gear and, for the biggest of fish, repeating crossbows. Interestingly, the First Emperor was said to have been touring the coastline of the Gulf of Bohai (and hunting for giant fish) when he fell ill and died in 210 BCE.

The aforementioned Sima Qian was the Grand Historian and Palace Secretary of Emperor Wu of Han (r. 141-87 BCE). Emperor Wu was reportedly the most zealous seeker of the immortals since the days of the First Emperor of Qin.  When Emperor Wu was not focused on orchestrating new conquests and expanding the power of his central government, he would send out waves of explorers into the Gulf of Bohai to search for spirit mountains.

Present in Emperor Wu’s court were several magicians who claimed to have knowledge of the spirit mountains—and others even claimed to have been students of the immortals. The magicians whose teachings most affected Emperor Wu were Li Shaojun (an elderly wiseman who claimed to know how to reach Penglai) and Gongsun Qing, a long-serving courtier and magical advisor who eventually attempted to grow a so-called fungus of immortality in the emperor’s palace. Gongsun Qing did, indeed, grow some sort of strange fungus around 109 BCE, prompting the excited emperor to proclaim a general amnesty in celebration, yet it was a far cry from the herb of immortality on Penglai.

Sima Qian wrote about the magicians and Emperor Wu’s search for the magical islands in what is known as The Treatise on the Feng and Shan Sacrifices (Shi Ji 28), included in his Records of the Grand Historian. In that treatise, Sima Qian wrote down a summary of the various pieces of folklore he had heard about the spirit mountains:

“[Penglai, Fangzhang and Yingzhou] were three spirit mountains which were supposed to exist in the Gulf of Bohai. They were not very far from the land of men, it was said, but the difficulty was that, whenever a boat was about to touch their shores, a wind would always spring up and drive it away. In the past, people said, there had been men who succeeded in reaching them, and found them peopled by fairy spirits who possessed the elixirs of immortality. All the plants and birds and animals of the island were white, and the palaces and gates were made of gold and silver. Seen from afar, the three spirit mountains looked like clouds but, as soon as one drew closer, they seemed instead to be down under the water” (Shi Ji 28, Burton Watson translation pg. 14).

As happened with the First Emperor of Qin, the explorers and magicians working with Emperor Wu made little progress in their search for the immortals and the spirit mountains of Bohai. Although Emperor Wu did execute numerous magicians who were found out to be frauds, and, by 98 BCE, began to feel disheartened about his search for the magic islands, the emperor reportedly never lost faith in their existence.  Yet, despite Emperor’s Wu’s decades of sending explorers into the Gulf of Bohai, and his cultivation of a home-grown fungus of immortality, the emperor never found a way to ward off old age. He died in 87 BCE.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Painting depicting the Spirit Island of Penglai by Yuan Yao (active in the 18th century), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.
• http://www.chinaknowledge.de/History/Myth/personspenglai.html
• http://www.chinaknowledge.de/Literature/Daoists/liezi.html
• http://www.chinaknowledge.de/Literature/Novels/haineishizhouji.html
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Shihuangdi

Emperor Wu And His Spirit Mistress

Emperor Wu (r. 141-87 BCE) of China was said to have shown great respect to an interesting deity known as the Spirit Mistress. The interactions of the emperor and the spirit were documented by Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE), the Grand Historian and palace secretary of Emperor Wu. Sima Qian’s passage about the Spirit Mistress appears in his “Treatise on the Feng and Shan Sacrifices” (Shi Ji 28), which purports to be a text on the ceremonial rites performed by China’s mythical/folkloric sage rulers, but really expands to be a text on sacrifices, mysticism, religion and miscellaneous supernatural topics.

According to folklore recorded by Sima Qian, the Spirit Mistress came into being after an unnamed woman from Changling died during childbirth. Although the woman’s name was unknown, Sima Qian did provide a name for her brother—Wanruo. The spirit, following her unfortunate death, traveled to the home of her brother. There, the spirit drew major attention to herself by supernaturally possessing Wanruo’s wife. Wanruo reacted to the spiritual possession in an interesting way—he became the spirit’s first worshipper and, perhaps, her first priest. Wanruo, or possibly his possessed wife, invited neighbors to come see the spirit and then neighbors brought their friends, exposing more and more people to the new spiritual being. Before long, the so-called Spirit Mistress became the talk of the town and soon came to be thought of as more of a deity than just a simple ghost.

The Spirit Mistress predated the reign of Emperor Wu, for the emperor’s maternal grandmother, Lady Pingyuan, had reportedly been an avid worshipper of the Spirit Mistress before the emperor was placed on the imperial throne. Nevertheless, it was Emperor Wu who really brought the Spirit Mistress to prominence. After ascending to the throne, the emperor sent agents to Changling (or wherever the spirit had moved), and somehow lured, guided or simply invited the Spirit Mistress to relocate to the Imperial Capital Area. The Spirit Mistress reportedly accepted the offer and was housed with honor in the Tishi Tower at Shanglin Park, located southwest of the capital city, Chang’an. By the time the Spirit Mistress was moved to the tower, she reportedly no longer was possessing a human body and instead inhabited her new home in an invisible ghostly state—Sima Qian wrote, “It was said that one could hear the words spoken by the spirit but could not see her form” (Shi Ji 28).

Sometime later, a man from Youshui named Fa Gen informed Emperor Wu that there was a skilled shamaness living in the province of Shang. This woman, Fa Gen claimed, could commune with spirits and was possessed by ghosts regularly. Emperor Wu reportedly retrieved the shamaness and housed her in the Palace of Sweet Springs, which was a place he recently had constructed for the worship of all spirits.

The shamaness quickly became the chosen spokeswoman of the Spirit Mistress, who apparently moved from the Tishi Tower to be with the shamaness in the Palace of Sweet Springs. This partnership between the Spirit Mistress and the shamaness occurred before the year 118 BCE, at which point Emperor Wu fell ill. He consulted the Spirit Mistress (through the shamaness) about his health, and when he subsequently recovered from his illness, Emperor Wu was convinced that the Spirit Mistress had intervened to improve his health. In thanks, Emperor Wu built for the Spirit Mistress a new home—the Temple of Long Life. This temple was said to have been dedicated specifically for the Spirit Mistress, and with the new temple came more respect and higher rank for the Spirit Mistress in the hierarchy of spirits.

Sima Qian recorded further details about the Spirit Mistress, but the renowned translator Burton Watson warns that anything exceeding the information listed in the preceding paragraphs may have been corrupted over the millennia. Nevertheless, some of the possibly corrupted pieces of information includes that at least one other temple was built for the Spirit Mistress by Emperor Wu and that a group of lesser deities, known as the Great Forbidden Ones, became associated with the spirit and were believed to be her supernatural attendants and helpers. Another possibly corrupted claim of Sima Qian is that Emperor Wu kept a record of all of messages or prophecies delivered by the Spirit Mistress’ mediums, but any such text (if it existed) has been lost.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Painting of Hongxian (紅線), attributed to He Dazi, from his collection called "Gathering Gems of Beauty", [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

The Disturbing Myth Of The Horatii And The Curiatii

According to tradition, the kingdom of Rome began in the mid 8th century BCE. Despite its centuries of existence, Greek scholars did not start taking serious interest in Rome until the 4th and especially the 3rd century BCE, by which time Rome had become the undisputed dominant power in Italy and began clashing with its Mediterranean rival, Carthage. The Romans, themselves, apparently never produced a historian until around 200 BCE, around which time Senator Quintus Fabius Pictor began writing the first official native Roman historical works. Unfortunately, by the time Pictor began writing, much of Rome’s written records were likely destroyed in the Gallic sack of Rome in the early 4th century BCE, and the surviving oral history about Rome’s founding would have been incredibly corrupted after untold generations of retellings. Therefore, when a Roman scholar such as Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE) set out to tell the story of the founding of Rome, he had to work with dubious documentation, such as historic names without historical context, and folkloric tales that were often adapted to the structure of preexistent stories of Greek mythology.

The tragic and disturbing tale of the Horatii and the Curiatii is one of the myths that Rome created as an explanation as to how Rome expanded its influence over the nearby community of Alba Longa. Historically, Alba Longa is believed to have been in existence well before 1,000 BCE and was a powerful city in Italy until the 7th century BCE, when it was presumably challenged by Rome and ultimately destroyed around 600 BCE. While we will never know specific details of the conflict between Rome and Alba Longa, writers such as Livy preserved the conflict, albeit in a dramatic and embellished fashion, within their works on the folklore of early Rome.

In his History of Rome, Livy alleged that the war between Rome and Alba Longa began because of a cattle dispute. As the story goes, both cities were stealing the livestock of the other and neither side wanted to return the stolen property. War was eventually declared to settle the issue, but before battle commenced, the leaders of the cities agreed to an odd solution—the war would be settled with a duel between chosen champions of each city. Oddly enough, both Rome and Alba Longa chose as their champions trios of triplet brothers—the Horatiii and the Curiatii. According to Livy, there was some debate as to which set of brother belonged to which city, but most accounts of the tale placed the Horatii in the Roman camp.

The match-up between the Horatii and the Curiatii was unfortunate, for the Roman triplets were all set to be brothers-in-law of one of the Alban triplets, as a sister of the Roman Horatii had been recently engaged to marry one of the Curiatii brothers. Nevertheless, one of the themes of Livy’s tale was that the city is more important than love and family, so, naturally, the Horatii and Curiatii all agreed to fight to the death on behalf of their homelands. The soon-to-be-married brother from Alba Longa, however, did not shed all his emotion—when he arrived for the duel, he was proudly wearing a cloak that had been lovingly made for him by his betrothed. The six warriors entered a list, or arena, set up by the two armies, and the duel began to the sounds of trumpets and cheers.

Livy painted the scene of the duel with great attention to drama. To the horror of the Romans, their Horatii triplets fought terribly. The Roman brothers fell in quick succession until only one, Publius Horatius, was left alone to face all three Curiatii siblings. Staring down the three warriors, Horatius could think of only one strategy—to run. The Romans looked on with dismay as the three Alban warriors chased the lone champion from Rome around the arena. Yet, Horatius was sprinting around the battlefield for a reason. As the Alban champions were chasing their prey, they fell into a single-file line. Seeing an opportunity, Horatius suddenly stopped and began his attack. Using good footwork and well-placed blows, the lone Roman sliced through his three pursuers, dropping one after the other as they raced toward him individually. The Romans cheered as Horatius killed the first Curiatii and then the second. For his final opponent, Publius Horatius faced the man who would have been his brother-in-law if war had been avoided. Showing no mercy, the Roman killed his foe and even looted from his body the cloak that was handmade by Horatius’ sister.

With the duel over, the Albans were said to have made momentary peace with Rome. Noncombatants waiting with anticipation in Rome for news of the duel could see the Roman army celebrating on the road as it returned home. At the forefront of the Roman troops was Publius Horatius, proudly wearing the plundered bloodstained cloak that had been made by his sister. While the population of Rome cheered for the army’s valiant return, one woman at the Capena gate could only cry.

According to Livy, the betrothal between Horatius’ sister and the slain Curiatii warrior was not a coldly arranged marriage for politics or wealth, but actually a union of genuine love and affection. Therefore, when the sister saw her brother wearing the bloodied cloak that she had given to her beloved, she could not suppress her grief and bawled for all of Rome to hear. Publius Horatius, enjoying all of the cheers and praise, soon heard someone killing the triumphal mood with wails and sobs. The sound of someone not appreciating his victory annoyed him and his anger did not abate even after discovering it was his own sister who was crying.

At this point, the tale takes an incredibly dark turn. Instead of consoling his distraught sister, Horatius did the unthinkable. He grabbed a sword, angrily marched over to his sobbing sibling and plunged the blade deep into her chest, piercing her heart. As she bled to death, Horatius growled abuse over his sister’s body: “’Take your girl’s love,’ he shouted, ‘and give it to your lover in hell. What is Rome to such as you, or your brothers, living or dead? So perish all Roman women who mourn for an enemy!’” (History of Rome, Book I, section 26).

To Rome’s credit, the myth states that the Romans immediately arrested Horatius and put him on trial for murder. Yet, the murdered sister was not given justice by the court. The Roman populace cried out for Horatius to be spared, and even the father of the Horatii (who had lost two sons and one daughter that day) spoke in defense of his son. The only way for the father to save his last living child was to besmear the memory of his own daughter. Livy wrote, “In the course of the hearing the decisive factor was the statement of Horatius’ father, to the effect that his daughter deserved her death” (History of Rome, Book I, section 26). With such pleas on his behalf, Horatius was said to have been acquitted with almost no punishment. Livy traced the origin of a mysterious wooden gateway, the Tigillum Sororium (Sister’s Beam), to this myth. He alleged that members of Horatius’ family had to regularly pass under the Sister’s Beam gate as a sort of penance for the murder.

Ironically, the Curiatii triplets, the two Horatii brothers and their tragically slain sister all died for nothing. According to the tale, the Albans resumed their hostilities against Rome after the duel. In response, Rome once again went to war and this time destroyed the city of Alba Longa. In the end, their deaths only served to convey the theme that the city of Rome was more important than individual Romans, the bonds of family and the cherished emotion of love.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Painting depicting the myth of the Horatii and the Curiatii, by Giuseppe Cesari (1568–1640), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of Rome by Livy, translated by Aubrey de Sélincourt. New York: Penguin Classics, 2002.
• https://www.britannica.com/topic/Horatii-and-Curiatii 
• https://www.britannica.com/place/ancient-Rome 
• https://www.britannica.com/place/Alba-Longa 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Quintus-Fabius-Pictor 
• http://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Gazetteer/Places/Europe/Italy/Lazio/Roma/Rome/_Texts/PLATOP*/Tigillum_Sororium.html
• https://www.encyclopedia.com/literature-and-arts/classical-literature-mythology-and-folklore/folklore-and-mythology/alba-longa  
• http://oxfordre.com/classics/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780199381135.001.0001/acrefore-9780199381135-e-240 

The Great Athenian Baiting Of Syracuse

In 415 BCE, a fleet of over 130 Athenian and allied trireme ships, accompanied by more than a hundred supply boats, reached the eastern shores of Sicily on the pretext of combating the potential threat posed by Syracuse. While most Sicilian communities on that stretch of coastline wanted nothing to do with the Athenian expedition, the cities of Naxos and Catana allowed the foreigners into their walls, albeit the latter city took some coercion. After expelling the minority pro-Syracusan party in Catana, the Athenians built their camp there, reportedly housing more than 7,000 hoplites, skirmishers and some cavalry in or around the premises.

At least one prominent member of the pro-Syracusan party managed to stay behind in Catana. The unnamed man began taking notes about the Athenian forces, such as repetitious schedules, the locations of armories and even the positioning of their sleeping quarters. After memorizing such details, the man departed from Catana and rushed to Syracuse. As the refugee was a well-known member of the downfallen pro-Syracusan party in Catana, the contacts that he had in Syracuse vouched for his loyalty, and the military leaders of the city took his words with all seriousness. Once allowed to speak, he vividly described to the Syracusans the layout of the Athenian camp, as well as their daily routine. He claimed that the camp became especially lazy at night and that the Athenian warriors would leave their weapons outside the city walls while they slept without their armor in makeshift barracks within Catana. In addition to this, the informant also swore that there was still a spirited pro-Syracuse core of the population in Catana that would betray the Athenians if given a chance.

After being told these details, the military of Syracuse fell into a bloodlust. They assumed that a night attack, or an assault at dawn, would result in the Athenians being cut off from their weaponry and ships. If the foreigners were caught unprepared, the enemy ships and weapons outside the walls could easily be torched and then the unarmed Athenians in their stockades would not be able to avoid being slaughtered by a Syracusan assault. Thinking it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the Syracusans mobilized virtually their entire army, and, with any allied forces they had on hand, they began marching overland toward Catana.

It was a fairly slow march for the warriors of Syracuse, but their cavalry was out ahead scouting the region. When the mounted warriors reached Catana, they discovered a horrible sight—there was no sign of life in the Athenian camp at Catana. All of the foreigners were gone and the large Athenian fleet was nowhere to be seen. Taking in this unsettling information, the scouts rushed back to their army to relay the news. When the generals of Syracuse were briefed on the scene at Catana, they immediately turned the army around and began a forced march home to Syracuse.

Unfortunately for the leaders of Syracuse, they had not questioned how the informant from Catana had survived the Athenian purge of dissidents and they similarly did not investigate his supposed escape from the tight Athenian occupation of the city.  Furthermore, they had not devoted enough time to discovering if his information about the Athenians in Catana was credible. It was a costly mistake—according to the Athenian general and historian, Thucydides (c. 460-400), the informant from Catana had defected to the Athenian side and had been sent to Syracuse by the leaders of the Athenian expedition specifically to sow disinformation.

Although Syracuse had hoped to catch the foreigners in a trap, it was the Syracusans who had fallen victim to a ploy. While the entire army of Syracuse set out on a long march to Catana, the Athenians were simultaneously sailing their whole force to the now defenseless Syracusan homeland. By the time the forces of Syracuse realized that they had been duped, they had already marched a great distance away from their city and it would take time for them to rush home.

Luckily for the Syracusans, the defenses of their city were intimidating even without a full garrison manning the walls. When the Athenians and their allies disembarked outside of Syracuse, they decided to not assault the city but instead focused on choosing a defensible location and devoted themselves to building camp fortifications. It took so long for the Syracusan army to return home that the Athenians were given enough time to demolish a bridge, build a stockade around their ships and construct a makeshift stone fort. Moreover, this was all constructed on land specifically chosen to counteract Syracuse’s vast cavalry superiority.

When the army of Syracuse finally arrived, they besieged the Athenian camp, but did not attack on the first day. On the second day, however, both sides prepared for battle. According to Thucydides, the commanding general in charge of the Athenian forces for the battle was Nicias. Even though the Athenians had spent a lot of time fortifying their position, Nicias apparently decided to make the first move. Perhaps the Syracusans had been lured into unfavorable ground, but Nicias reportedly marched his men forward to ignite a pitched battle.

Despite all of the drama, buildup and pre-battle maneuvering, the actual armed clash outside of the city of Syracuse did not last long. According to Thucydides, the battle was initially a stalemate, but as the men began to fatigue, the experience that the Athenians and their allies had picked up during the Peloponnesian War (begun in 431) began to sway the battle in their favor. After a while, the Syracusan infantry lines began to give way under pressure, and they became so disjointed that the army of Syracuse was ultimately split in half. After the Syracusan line was broken, it did not take long for the spirit of the army to break completely. With the forces of Syracuse fleeing for the safety of their walls, the Athenians were victorious.

Fortunately for Syracuse, the battle was more of a psychological defeat than a physical massacre. According to Thucydides, the Syracusan cavalry survived the battle virtually unscathed and they provided cover and support while the rest of the army fled to the city. As a result, even though the army of Syracuse had been routed, there were only 260 reported lives lost on the Syracusan side of the battle. Interestingly, the Athenians were content with the damage they had done in the battle and decided not to do anything else against Syracuse for the time being. Instead, the Athenian warriors returned to their fleet and sailed back to Catana for the winter.

As for the battle’s blow on the morale of the Syracusans, the city took the defeat as a teaching moment and strove to take the war more seriously. In response to the battle, a council of three generals reportedly took control in Syracuse to whip their city into shape militarily and diplomatically for the war to come.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (a trireme from a panel of the Temple of Isis, Pompeii; Naples Archaeological Museum, Italy, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• History of the Peloponnesian War (Book IV) by Thucydides, translated by Rex Warner and introduced by M. I. Finley. New York: Penguin Classics, 1972.