The First Clash: The Miraculous Greek Victory at Marathon and Its Impact on Western Civilization

by Jim Lacey

  With the gods propitiated by numerous gifts of gold, the Lydian army launched itself against King Cyrus. In 547 BC, the Lydians marched into Cappadocia, which had been under Median lordship since Assyria’s collapse. After crossing the Halys River, which had been set as the Median-Lydian boundary by the Peace of the Eclipse, Croesus captured the supposedly strongly fortified city of Pteria and devastated the surrounding country, while waiting to see how Cyrus would react to the provocation. He did not have long to wait. Cyrus, apparently forewarned of the attack, was ready to move immediately after receiving information as to the direction of the Lydian offensive. Moving rapidly from his new capital at Ecbatana, Cyrus gathered further recruits along his line of march, and in what must have been a matter of a couple of weeks, the Persians pitched their camp within striking distance of the Lydian army. Herodotus indicates that the battle that took place was fierce and that many fell on both sides. However, when the fighting ended, at the onset of darkness, there was still no victor. Croesus, who must have been shocked by the speed and strength of Cyrus’s response, blamed his lack of success on the Persians’ greater numbers and determined to fall back on his capital, Sardis, and await the arrival of his allies.

  If his army was still in good condition and he had the city of Pteria as a base, and presumably had access to Sinope on the Black Sea, then there was no reason Croesus could not have wintered his army in Cappadocia and awaited his allies. Therefore it is likely that his army, though not vanquished, received a severe battering. Furthermore, his previous policy of ruining the surrounding country had probably left the countryside denuded of supplies. Croesus was now paying for his policy of systematic devastation, which had greatly shortened the time he could linger in Cappadocia; even under the best of circumstances, an army could remain stationary only a short time before it consumed all of the area’s available resources. After failing to win a decisive victory against the Persians, he did not have the choice of staying. Circumstances compelled him to retreat or starve. Still worse lay ahead of him, for Croesus had neglected to stock his capital at Sardis with sufficient provisions to sustain his army through the winter. So upon his arrival at the capital, he was forced to disband all of his army, except for his elite cavalry, and ordered it to reassemble in the spring. At the same time, he sent envoys to Egypt, Babylonia, and Sparta and requested them to bring their armies to Sardis in three months, whereupon their combined might would see Cyrus off.

  Cyrus was now left in an unenviable position. The same reason that had compelled Croesus to abandon Cappadocia was now acting on him: A devastated country would not supply his army through the winter. In such circumstances, all precedent called for Cyrus to fall back to Ecbatana, where he could refurbish his army for the next season’s campaign. Realizing that his enemies would gather in vast numbers against him in the spring, Cyrus knew that the prudent course only delayed his doom. Therefore he launched his army into an unheard-of winner-take-all winter campaign and followed Croesus’s retreating army into Lydia.

  Surprised at his foe’s audacity, Croesus weighed his options. Most of his army had left for their homes, and it would be months before any of his allies would appear to assist him. Still, the walls of Sardis were considered impregnable, and most leaders would have considered holing up inside of them until the winter frost decimated the Persian army or until his allies would eventually come to the rescue. Instead, Croesus opted to give battle with the much-reduced forces available to him. Historians have often commented on the folly of his choice, but under the circumstances it was probably the best available. While it is true the Sardis region had not been devastated like Cappadocia, it still could not have had much food left on hand. It had been the mustering point for the Lydian invasion, and as such the Lydian army would have consumed much of the reserve food stores before marching into Cappadocia. Furthermore, the army would have packed much of what was left on wagons and mules to supplement whatever it collected on the march. By early winter, the reserve food stores must have been very low, if they existed at all. Given these circumstances, the idea of a siege of many months must have filled Croesus’s head with visions of famine. As Croesus had not taken the precaution of restocking his magazines within the city, what food stores did exist were probably still stored in the countryside, left for Cyrus to use. As long as Cyrus was not averse to seeing the rural population starve (and it is a safe guess that he would find this acceptable), then his food situation was probably markedly better than what Croesus faced in the city, where he had to feed both his own population and his army. Moreover, as is frequently the case, military commanders tend to magnify their own difficulties while discounting those faced by their opponents. In the final analysis, Croesus probably saw no option except to risk all on a final decisive battle. If he lost, he could still in the last resort retreat behind the protection of Sardis’s walls.

  Despite dismissing the bulk of his army, Croesus still possessed the Lydian cavalry, a formidable force, while the plains in front of Sardis afforded perfect terrain for their operations. For Cyrus’s part, he had to consider carefully how to engage such a dangerous foe. Taking the advice of Harpagos, his most trusted general, Cyrus had the baggage camels unloaded and placed at the front of his lines to act as cavalry. As the Lydians did not use camels in their operations, Cyrus hoped that the sight and foul odors of these strange beasts would panic the Lydian horses.

  This is precisely what happened. Unable to control their horses, the Lydian cavalrymen dismounted and prepared to stand and fight as infantry against the Persian assault. It was a doomed struggle. Stripped of their mobility and lacking heavy armor, the Lydians were easy prey for the Persians’ massed archers, who always made up the bulk of the Persian infantry forces. Once the archers had done their work, Cyrus unleashed his own cavalry into the disordered Lydian masses. Although there was some fierce fighting at points, the Lydians were soon routed and the survivors streamed back into the city.

  While Herodotus says that the Persians settled down for a siege, he also states that Cyrus offered a large reward to any of his soldiers who fought their way to the top of Sardis’s walls. This probably reflects the fact that food was short, winter was fast approaching, and Cyrus would find himself in a bad situation if he was still conducting a siege when the armies of Babylonia and Egypt arrived. With those factors in mind, he launched a major assault on the walls, but it failed. As he lacked a siege train, Cyrus determined to starve the city into submission in the hope that it would soon give up.

  Herodotus tells a remarkable story of a Persian soldier watching a Lydian climb down from the Acropolis along crags in the cliffside to retrieve a helmet that had fallen from the walls. The soldier then returned by the same route, all the time watched by the alert Persian sentry. This section of the walls was poorly guarded because the cliff was so steep that the Lydians considered it unscalable. However, now a Lydian guard had shown the way, and the next day a specially selected force of Persians ascended the heights by the same route. The attacking Persians surprised the Lydians. By daybreak, the Acropolis was in Persian hands and the city gates opened. Persians swarmed into the “impregnable” fortress, and Cyrus gave the city over to sack.3

  Is Herodotus’s version of the story true? At almost the precise point that such an attempt would have occurred, archaeologists have discovered the remains of a soldier in his mid-twenties who appears to have been thrown from the walls of Sardis’s Acropolis. Forensic archaeologists found that the man was in remarkably good health until he suffered a stab wound through his seventh rib. Interestingly, the soldier’s arm was broken in two spots consistent with what one would expect from a surprised man desperately warding off sword blows. Finally, in his hand was a stone—perhaps he was a slinger—meant to be used in a final act of desperation. Just a few feet from the soldier’s body was found the only helmet retrieved in the Sardis excavations, which was dated to the period when Cyrus attacked. Is this the soldier who climbed down the cliff and inadvertently showed
the Persians a route to take the fortifications? Is this the very helmet that soldier tried to retrieve? The truth will never be known, but it is tantalizing evidence that tempts historians to use it to fill the gap in our knowledge. It should be noted that the rest of the archaeological record unearthed during these excavations is entirely consistent with Herodotus’s account.

  Diverse traditions present varying fates for Croesus, ranging from one suggestion that he had himself immolated as the Persian army swept into Sardis to another where he was spared by Cyrus and elevated to a place of trust and honor. This latter version is what Herodotus offers, but Babylonian records contradict the historian’s. While most Greek traditions have the god Apollo saving Croesus at the last minute, it should be noted that the Greeks had to create this conclusion no matter what the true facts were. For them, Croesus had to survive, as their religion would not let them accept or conceive that Apollo would allow him to die. After all, Croesus had presented Apollo, through his oracle at Delphi, rich gifts in return for a victory. It would have been beyond the pale for the god to both deny him the victory and allow him to die. At the moment, the best that history can offer is that Croesus’s fate is unknown, with a prejudice toward his being allowed to live, as Cyrus appears to have made this a standard policy through most of his conquests.4 What is positively known is that an upstart Persian king had vanquished the once powerful Lydian Empire and made its capital, Sardis, a mere provincial city in the growing Persian Empire. A generation later, a small Athenian force would burn Sardis to the ground before scurrying back to Greece and safety. In doing so, Athens would gain the undying hatred of Persia and history was set on the course that eventually led to Marathon.

  But who was this Cyrus who suddenly springs into the pages of history? What is known about the man whose conquests would grant him the appellation “the Great” and make him the founder of the world’s greatest empire until the advent of Rome? Cyrus’s story begins soon after the Peace of the Eclipse years before, when the Medes had turned their attention to securing the loyalty (or failing that, the subjugation) of the numerous seminomadic tribes within their domain.

  By 585 BC, when Astyages took the throne, they had formed a true polyglot empire of Iranian-speaking tribes, including the Persians. With a secure border on his Lydian frontier and the Babylonians cringing behind what they called the Median Wall, Astyages was able to concentrate his energies on securing his eastern border and further consolidating his kingdom.5 As many of the region’s tribes gave up their nomadic ways in favor of permanent settlements, they adopted new government structures. Many, including the Ansan tribe of Persian heritage, saw their tribal chiefs elevated to petty kings. Although these kings continued paying tribute to the Medes, like powerful medieval barons they ruled their own territories with little interference from the Median king. When Astyages eventually realized the danger that these independent power bases represented to his own hold on power, it was too late, as one of these petty kings, Cyrus, was already preparing for war.

  It was not until toward the end of his long reign that Astyages confronted this revolt, the first real military threat to his rule. Cyrus, then a minor noble within the empire, had succeeded to the title of king of Ansan and had consolidated his power over the numerous disaffected Persian tribes in his region. If this were all Astyages had to worry about, it would have been a small matter. For at this point, even the combined might of all the Persian tribes was no match for the professional, battle-hardened Medes. However, as Astyages’ rule progressed, he had become progressively more paranoid and suspicious of those around him. In the process, he turned much of the Median nobility against him. As he relied on these men to command his army, he was in the unenviable position of having to embark on a civil war without any assurance that his own army would remain loyal to him.

  To understand the politics of the time, we have to turn to legend and see what truths we can gather. According to Herodotus, early in his reign Astyages had a dream that his daughter, Mandane, would somehow be his undoing. To forestall this, Astyages decided that when she came of age she should not marry a powerful Median nobleman, who would then be positioned to overthrow him. Rather, he gave her to a minor Persian noble, Cambyses, renowned for his peaceful disposition and therefore unlikely to ever be accepted by the Medes as their ruler. In a later dream, however, Astyages learned that it was not Mandane’s husband he had to fear. The true danger was to come from the offspring of this marriage. So when Mandane did become pregnant, he summoned her to the Persian court and stood by as the foretold son was born. Astyages, afraid the child would one day supplant him, ordered that the infant be abandoned on the side of a mountain and exposed to the elements until he had died.

  The infant’s murder was entrusted to Harpagos, a relative of Astyages and also his most trusted general and adviser. Harpagos understood that this assignment placed him in terrible danger. Failure to obey Astyages’ orders would mean his death. However, Astyages was old now and had no male heir. If he died, it was not unlikely that Mandane and her husband would take control of the empire, and they would surely want revenge on the man who had killed their firstborn son. Trying to make the best of his dreadful predicament, Harpagos gave the child over to Astyages’ herdsman to kill. Fortunately for the infant, the herdsman’s wife had just given birth to a stillborn baby, and she convinced her husband to expose her already dead child to the elements and keep the king’s grandson, Cyrus, as their own.

  When Cyrus was ten years old, Astyages discovered the ruse but was convinced by his seers and dream interpreters that the danger of Cyrus replacing him had passed. He decided to allow the child to return to his parents in Persia—but not before he had punished Harpagos for his failure to kill the infant. Pretending he was happy about his grandson’s deliverance, he told Harpagos to go home and send his young son over to play with Cyrus. When the boy arrived, Astyages seized him, slew him, and cut him limb from limb. Some of these limbs he had broiled for a banquet that night, whereupon he served Harpagos the flesh of his own son for dinner. Upon learning what his meal consisted of, Harpagos contained his fury and told Astyages that the meal was pleasing, as was everything the king presented to him.

  As was noted, the story is legend, and the often unreliable Ctesias gives a very different version of events.6 Even Herodotus mentions that there were several other stories about Cyrus’s youth but fails to tell us what they were. So we are left to gather some truth from legend. Babylonian sources confirm that Cyrus was the son of Cambyses and that he was the king of Ansan. What we learn from Herodotus’s story is that Cyrus was also at least half Mede and a direct descendant of the Median king. At a time when there was considerable intermarriage among the nobility of many of the region’s tribes, this suffices to explain why the Medes so readily accepted Cyrus’s future overlordship. Moreover, whatever may be the ultimate truth of this gruesome tale, one can surmise that the king did not stifle any impulse to visit degradations upon his nobility. If he did inflict this or some other unbearable insult on Harpagos (and that general’s later actions surely indicate he did), his closest friend and adviser, it can be safely assumed that the rest of the Median nobility feared for their own safety at the hands of such a capricious ruler.

  Herodotus further indicates that Harpagos bided his time until Cyrus was of age and had risen to the Ansan throne before reaching out to him with inducements to revolt. This would establish Harpagos in the position of kingmaker, which may be giving him too much credit. What is known is that by 559 BC, Cyrus was king of Ansan and busily forming a coalition of other local Persian tribes determined to resist Astyages’ rule. By 555 BC, this coalition was in open revolt, and Astyages, finally deigning to take notice of the upstart king of Ansan, ordered Cyrus to present himself at his palace at Ecbatana. Cyrus replied that he would arrive sooner than Astyages would like, and with an army at his back.7

  Alarmed, Astyages raised an army and sent it south to confront Cyrus. According to Herodotus, the gods ha
d unbalanced Astyages’ mind and caused him to give Harpagos command of this army. Even if one does not believe Herodotus’s story about the king feeding Harpagos his own son, it appears certain that Harpagos was nursing some other severe grievance against Astyages. Discounting the direct influence of the gods on his mind, Astyages’ decision to entrust Harpagos with command of the army surely rates as an ill-considered personnel decision. When Harpagos’s Median army finally met the Persians, most of it wasted no time in joining their commander and going over to Cyrus’s side.

  After he learned of his army’s treasonous collapse, Astyages immediately ordered the execution (by impalement) of the dream readers who had told him it was safe to let Cyrus live. He then called forth the general levy and personally led out the host of the Medes to face Cyrus. Again, there was no battle, as the remaining Median nobility followed Harpagos’s lead and went over to the Persians. Astyages was turned over to Cyrus in chains. Cyrus, probably realizing that if the Median nobility wanted their king dead, they would have done it themselves, held Astyages prisoner, and in 553 BC, Astyages passes from the pages of history.

  Because Herodotus’s narrative when placed in chronological order goes directly from the fall of Astyages to the Persian war with Lydia, most histories have done the same, neglecting the fact that there was a period of approximately six years separating these events. Although the historical record for this time is a blank, one can probably assume that no matter how much the Median nobility had come to hate Astyages, many were not overjoyed at having to bow to a Persian upstart. Furthermore, Cyrus began his revolt with the support of only a portion of the Persian tribes. He required time to persuade or force the other tribes to join his confederation. Finally, the northern and eastern borders of the Median Empire were always restless, and it would have been odd indeed if the steppe nomads had not taken advantage of the turmoil within Media to move south with the hope of picking up some easy loot. For all these reasons, Cyrus was forced to spend the early years of his reign consolidating his hold on power.