Cyrus the Great’s Commitment to Pacifism (Part II)

ISTANBUL (Daily Sabah) -- The story of Cyrus in Türkiye is known to us through one of the ancient world’s more colorful figures – Herodotus, himself from what was then Halicarnassus but which is now the popular Turkish tourist resort of Bodrum.

Herodotus has two monikers “the father of history” and “the father of lies”; both derive from his work, the “Histories,” and imply its importance as well as the many questionable elements within it. Yet, it is an unparalleled source for the conquest of Anatolia by Cyrus. There is no dispute among serious historians as to the broad outlines of what Herodotus relates about it. Nonetheless, within the details, there are elements that will probably strike a modern reader as dubious.
It is an irony of history that a Persian ruler who is renowned for his tolerance should be responsible for the overthrow of a fairly peaceable king. For Cyrus’ foe in Anatolia was Croesus, the king of Lydia, who early in his rule had made peace with the Greek cities on the Aegean coast with favorable terms for the latter.
As Seton Lloyd avers, “Clearly his intention fell short of obtaining actual sovereignty over them, being concerned rather with tribute in kind and commercial privileges.”
This betrays Croesus’ real interest, which was not military domination but the accruing of wealth. Croesus is famous in history for his great wealth. His riches were apparently so vast that in English, the expression “as rich as Croesus” is still used, albeit rarely. As such, he may also be some kind of archetype for the legendary figure of Midas, the king with the golden touch.
Croesus had got wind of the rising power of Cyrus in the east. Indeed, the Median king that Cyrus had overthrown was Croesus’ brother-in-law. Seton Lloyd believes that Croesus had no inkling of Cyrus’ military prowess but wanted to use the situation as a pretext for expanding his own kingdom into Cappadocia, which would allow him to exploit an even greater area of trading routes.
According to Herodotus, Croesus also did not fear Cyrus as he had been assured by the Oracle at Delphi that “if Croesus attacked the Persians, he would destroy a mighty empire” and he only had to fear losing his own throne “when a mule is monarch of Media” something Croesus believed to be impossible.
Thus assured of his success, in the summer of 547 B.C., Croesus sent his troops on plundering expeditions across the Halys, the modern Kızılırmak and the border between the new Persian Empire and Lydia, and their encountering of no resistance must have heightened Croesus’ confidence further.
In the autumn, Cyrus appeared, however, and the two armies fought a pitched battle at a place named Pteria, which is possibly the former Hittite capital of Hattusa.
This battle between these regional superpowers was bloody but inconclusive. On the following day, the two sides did not engage at all, and Croesus felt that Cyrus would not fight more unless provoked. To ensure the defeat of such a powerful foe, Croesus resolved to return to his capital at Sardis and raise a larger army over the winter with foreign aid. It should be noted here that although in modern times, we are used to wars that make no concessions to the seasons, in the past, this was less common, as can be seen in the summer Balkan campaigns of the Ottomans, for instance.
Croesus, however, misread Cyrus who decided to advance upon Sardis in Croesus’ wake. In what can only be described as an intelligence catastrophe, Croesus seems to have been completely unaware of this, as while expecting the larger force to assemble a few months into the future, he actually disbanded the mercenary force that he had with him then.
What eventually caused Croesus to suspect the Persians were on the march was, according to Herodotus, unnatural signs in nature. In a passage that resembles the third scene of Act II in William Shakespeare’s “Macbeth,” “all the suburbs of Sardis were found to swarm with snakes, on the appearance of which the horses left feeding in the pasture-grounds, and flocked to the suburbs to eat them.” Croesus fearing this was an omen, sends to Telmessus, whose ruins today lie in the province of Fethiye, to have it interpreted. Supposedly, they read the omens correctly but had insufficient time to get the news to Sardis before it fell. They declared that the snake being “a child of the earth” represented Sardis’ native population and the horse symbolized “a warrior and a foreigner” – especially apt considering the ancient Persian connection with horses.
In actual terms, as Herodotus so pithily puts it, Cyrus “marched forward with such speed that he was himself the first to announce his coming to the Lydian king.” The Lydian defenders were surely caught unawares, but they were able to rise to the challenge. Herodotus, lacking that haughty condescension which suffuses much of ancient Greek writing that deals with non-Greeks, notes of the Lydians that “in all Asia, there was not at this time a braver or more warlike people.”
There appears to be some confusion in Herodotus here. It is clear that the soldiers that defend Sardis are native Lydians as the mercenaries have been disbanded. But if these native troops deserve the commendation of Herodotus, which they seem to since they fight particularly well despite the shock of Cyrus’ sudden appearance, then why is the disbandment of the mercenaries made such an issue by Herodotus and why indeed did Croesus feel the need to use mercenaries at Pteria in the first place?
Anyhow, now, according to Herodotus “the two armies met in the plain before Sardis.” Here it is a clever stratagem rather than brute force that decides the battle. One of Cyrus’ generals advises Cyrus to place camels, which were used by the Persians as baggage animals, in front of the other troops as they engage in battle. This was to spook the horses of the Lydians, and it was effective. The Lydian cavalry were unable to control their unnerved bolting steeds.
The riders were not carried off with them, however, as they jumped off and engaged the enemy on foot instead, earning the praise of Herodotus for doing so, but not carrying the day for their side. Instead “after a great slaughter on both sides” they retreated to the citadel of Sardis where they were besieged. Croesus, then expecting a long siege, sent new messages to his allies informing them of his current situation and urging them to send help immediately.
The siege was over too quickly for any help to arrive, though. Two weeks into it, one of the soldiers noted an undefended part of the citadel on a precipice. The defenders believed that it was naturally impregnable here. In a story that sounds somewhat similar to that of Achilles being held by his heel when dipped in the River Styx by his mother Thetis, Herodotus tells us that a former king of Sardis had carried a sacred item around the walls of the citadel having been informed by the Telmessians that the places on the defenses that it passed would be “impregnable.”
However, this corner was left alone due to the precipice. And it was from here that the soldier of Cyrus, however, succeeded in assaulting the city and leading others into it too, “thus was Sardis taken, and given up entirely to pillage.” Herodotus also notes that “thus too did Croesus fulfill the oracle, which said that he should destroy a mighty empire – by destroying his own.” As for the “mule” that turned out to be Cyrus himself, the child of a mixed Persian-Mede marriage.
According to Herodotus and in contrast to his famed tolerance, Cyrus intended to burn Croesus alive. However, he apparently then recognized the common humanity that united him and Croesus and spared him instead. Indeed, from this point on, Croesus and Cyrus appear to strike up an unlikely friendship, in which, Croesus, made wise through misfortune, offers sage advice to the man who has defeated him.