Brill's Companion to the Campaigns of Philip II and Alexander the Great 9004715037, 9789004715035

Citation preview

B R I L L’ S C O M PA N I O N T O

C A M PA I G N S OF P H I L I P I I AND A L E X A N DE R T H E GR E AT THE

Edited by Edward M. Anson

Brill’s Companion to the Campaigns of Philip II and Alexander the Great

Brill’s Companions in Classical Studies Warfare in the Ancient Mediterranean World Series Editor Lee L. Brice (Western Illinois University) Editorial Board Jeremy Armstrong (University of Auckland) Jessica H. Clark (Florida State University) Fernando Echeverría (Universidad Complutense de Madrid) Jenn Finn (Loyola University Chicago) Elizabeth M. Greene (University of Western Ontario) Matthew A. Sears (University of New Brunswick) Jeroen Wijnendaele (Bonn Center for Dependency and Slavery Studies)

Volume 10

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/wamw

Brill’s Companion to the Campaigns of Philip II and Alexander the Great Edited by

Edward M. Anson

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Cover illustration: Pietro da Corona, Battle of Alexander versus Darius. Painted between 1644–1650, Capitoline Museum, Rome, public domain. The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at https://catalog.loc.gov LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2024949119

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 2452-1493 isbn 978-90-04-71503-5 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-71506-6 (e-book) DOI 10.1163/9789004715066 Copyright 2025 by Edward M. Anson. Published by Koninklijke Brill BV, Plantijnstraat 2, 2321 JC Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill BV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Schöningh, Brill Fink, Brill mentis, Brill Wageningen Academic, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, Böhlau and V&R unipress. Koninklijke Brill BV reserves the right to protect this publication against unauthorized use. Requests for re-use and/or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill BV via brill.com or copyright.com. For more information: [email protected]. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Figures, Maps and Tables ix Abbreviations x Notes on Contributors xi Acknowledgements xvi Introduction: Not the Usual Treatment of Philip II and Alexander III of Macedon 1 Lee L. Brice

Part 1 The Combat and Campaigns of Philip and Alexander 1

Philip’s Grand Strategy 17 Frances Pownall

2

Alexander’s Battles 35 Matthew A. Sears

3

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices 61 Edward M. Anson

4

Philip’s and Alexander’s Naval Warfare 88 Joseph Roisman

5

The Sieges of Philip and Alexander 113 Elizabeth Baynham

Part 2 The Combatants 6

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry of Philip II and Alexander the Great 135 Graham C. L. Wrightson

vi

Contents

7

Macedonian and Thessalian Cavalry 164 Carolyn Willekes

8

The Role of Mercenaries 187 Franca Landucci

9

Infantry Allies and Subjects 202 Sulochana R. Asirvatham

Part 3 Organization and Structure 10

Commanders and Command Structure in Alexander’s Army 223 Waldemar Heckel

11

Money and Honor: Military Compensation in the Armies of Philip and Alexander 246 Alexander Meeus

12

Recruitment and Training 264 Jacek Rzepka

Part 4 Maintenance 13

Food and Conquest: Getting beyond Engels 281 James Lacey

14

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great 298 David Karunanithy

Part 5 The Psychology of War 15

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies, 359–323 BCE 345 Lee L. Brice

Contents

16

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great 392 Jenn Finn

17

Philip’s and Alexander’s Use of Religious Cult in Our Extant Sources 429 Jeanne Reames

Part 6 Nature of Command 18

Relationship of King and Army 479 Carol J. King

19

The Affective Nature of Command 501 Monica D’Agostini

Part 7 The Human Cost of War 20 Women in War 529 Elizabeth D. Carney 21

War Crimes? 551 Sabine Müller

Part 8 In Closing 22 Conclusion: “We Are the Champions”: the Underlying Reality of Ancient War 579 Edward M. Anson Index 605

vii

Figures, Maps, and Tables

Figures

Cover Pietro da Corona, Battle of Alexander versus Darius. Painted between 1644–1650, Capitoline Museum, Rome, public domain 



Maps

1

Greece and the Aegean Area. From Anson, E. M. (2015) Eumenes of Cardia. A Greek Among Macedonians, 2nd edn. Leiden. Used by permission xviii 2 Alexander’s Campaigns. Roisman, J. (ed) (2003) Brill’s Companion to Alexander the Great. Brill. Leiden. Used by permission xix 2.1 The Battle of Granicus. From Kromayer and Veith (1926). Public Domain 40 2.2 The Battle of Issus. From Kromayer and Veith (1926). Public Domain 44 2.3 The Battle of Gaugamela. From Kromayer and Veith (1926). Public Domain 48 2.4 The Battle of the Hydaspes River. From Kromayer and Veith (1926). Public Domain 53

10.1 10.2 17.1 17.2 17.3 17.4 17.5 17.6

Tables The commanders of the pezhetairoi 235 The Commanders of hypaspists 237 Sacrifices and dedications 448 Dreams, omens, prophecy and oracles 449 Other religious matters 449 Sacrifices and dedications 450 Dreams, omens, prophecy and oracles 456 Other religious matters 462

Abbreviations Throughout the volume, individual authors were given discretion in spellings of names of people and places. The index uses Latinized spelling. Abbreviations of journals and works employed in this book are those from L’Année Philologique Online, and the Oxford Classical Dictionary4, in addition to the following: CAH Cambridge Ancient History, 2nd edn. (1982–1991) Cambridge. CHGRW Sabin, P., M. Whitby, and H. van Wees (eds) (2007) Cambridge History of Greek and Roman Warfare, vol. 1. Cambridge. GSW Pritchett, W. K. (1971–1991) The Greek State at War, vols. 1–5. Berkeley, CA. HM2 Hammond, N. G. L. and Griffith, G. T. (1979) A History of Macedonia, vol. 2. Oxford. LAM Heckel, W., Heinrichs, J., Müller, S., and Pownall, F. (eds) (2020) Lexicon of Argead Makedonika. Berlin. RO Rhodes, P. J. and Osborne, R. (eds) (2003) Greek Historical Inscriptions 404–323 BC. Oxford.

Notes on Contributors Edward M. Anson is Distinguished Professor of Ancient History at the University of Arkansas, Little Rock. Among his recent publications are Philip II, the Father of Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues, (Bloomsbury, 2020); Affective Relations and Personal Bonds in Hellenistic Antiquity: A Festschrift Honouring the Career of Elizabeth D. Carney, (Oxbow (co-editor) 2021), and Ptolemy I Soter: Themes and Issues (Bloomsbury, 2023). Sulochana R. Asirvatham is Professor of Classics and General Humanities at Montclair State University. Her research interests include the reception of Alexander the Great and the Macedonians at Rome and in the Alexander-Romance tradition, Greek imperial literature, and ancient historiography. She is the co-editor of Between Magic and Religion: Interdisciplinary Studies in Ancient Mediterranean Religion and Society (2001) and The Courts of Philip II and Alexander the Great: Monarchy and Power in Ancient Macedonia (2022). Elizabeth Baynham is retired from the University of Newcastle, NSW. She is an Honorary Research Fellow at Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand. Her primary research interests are in the areas of Greek history, Greek and Roman historiography and Greek and Roman art; in particular, the reign of Alexander the Great and his Successors. She has published four books including, with A. B. Bosworth Alexander the Great in Fact and Fiction (Oxford, 2000). Her articles have appeared in numerous journals and book chapters in edited collections. Lee L. Brice is Distinguished University Professor of History, Western Illinois University. He has published volumes on ancient history including most recently Brill’s Companion to Diet and Logistics in Greek and Roman Warfare (coedited with John Donahue, Brill 2023) and Women and the Army in the Roman Empire (coedited with Elizabeth M. Greene, Cambridge 2024), as well as articles and chapters on Corinthian coinage, military history, teaching, and the Roman army on film. He is series editor of Warfare in the Ancient Mediterranean World and senior editor of Research Perspectives: Ancient History (Brill).

xii

Notes on Contributors

Elizabeth D. Carney is Professor of History, Emerita, at Clemson University. She authored Women and Monarchy in Ancient Macedonia, Olympias, Mother of Alexander the Great, Arsinoë of Egypt and Macedon: A Royal Life, King and Court in Ancient Macedonia: Rivalry, Treason and Conspiracy and Eurydice and the Birth of Macedonian Power. She coedited Philip II and Alexander the Great, Royal Women and Dynastic Loyalty, The Routledge Companion to Women and Monarchy in the Ancient Mediterranean World. Monica D’Agostini is Assistant Professor of Greek History at the University of Bergamo. She published contributions on political and military authority in Macedonia and Hellenistic Antiquity with forays into the history of modern political thought and its relation to the Classical heritage. Her works include her volumes The Rise of Philip V. Kingship and Rule in the Hellenistic World, (Alessandria, 2019) and Gaetano Filangieri and Benjamin Franklin: Between the Italian Enlightenment and the US Constitution, (Washington DC, 2011). Jenn Finn is Associate professor of Classical Studies at Loyola University Chicago. She has published widely on all aspects of Mediterranean history, including crosscultural contacts, Roman reception of the Classical Greek world, and ancient military history. Her second book, Contested Pasts: A Determinist History of Alexander the Great in the Roman Empire (Michigan, 2022). Waldemar Heckel is Professor Emeritus of Greek and Roman Studies at the University of Calgary and a research fellow of the Centre for Military and Strategic Studies. His publications include Alexander’s Marshals: A Study of the Makedonian Aristocracy and the Politics of Military Leadership (Routledge); In the Path of Conquest: Resistance to Alexander the Great (Oxford); and The Conquests of Alexander the Great (Cambridge). In 2021, he completed a full-scale revision and expansion of his Alexander prosopography, now titled Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander and his Successors: From Chaironeia to Ipsos (Greenhill/Casemate). David Karunanithy is a researcher for the Oxford English Dictionary at the British Library in London. He holds two university degrees in history and classics and has had a lifelong interest in ancient warfare, with a particular emphasis on the Macedonian army. He has contributed various articles to specialist history

Notes on Contributors

xiii

magazines and is to date author of two books: Dogs of War (2008) and The Macedonian War Machine (2013). Carol J. King is Associate Professor of Classics at Grenfell Campus Memorial University in Newfoundland, Canada. Her primary areas of research are Alexander the Great, Argead Macedonia, and the early Hellenistic period of the Succes­ sors. She is the author of Ancient Macedonia (Routledge 2018). She holds a PhD from Brown and is an alumna of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, Regular Member and James Rignall Wheeler Fellow 2001–02. James Lacey is the Matthew C. Horner Chair of War Studies at Marine Corps University and the Director of the War and Economics Department at the Marine Corps War College. His most recent books include The Washington War (Bantam), Moment of Battle (Bantam), Great Strategic Rivalries (Oxford), and Rome: Strategy of Empire (Oxford). Franca Landucci is Professor of Greek History (L-Ant/02) at the Catholic University of Milan, where she has been teaching since 1993/94. She is member of the teaching staff of the PhD in Arts and Humanities of Catholic University of Milan. She has been studying Hellenistic history for a long time and has published a series of monographs and many papers on the history of Philip II, Alexander the Great, and the Diadochi. Alexander Meeus is Privatdozent at the University of Mannheim and has taught at universities in Belgium, Germany, and the UK. He is the author of The History of the Diadochoi in Book XIX of Diodoros’ Bibliotheke: A Historical and Historiographical Commentary (Berlin 2022) as well as several articles on early Hellenistic history. He has co-edited four volumes, including The Age of the Successors and the Creation of the Hellenistic Kingdoms (323–276 B.C.) (Leuven 2014) and The Legitimation of Conquest: Monarchical Representation and the Art of Government in the Empire of Alexander the Great (Stuttgart 2020). Sabine Müller is Professor of Ancient History at Marburg University. She studied Medieval and Modern History, Art History, and Ancient History. Her research focuses on

xiv

Notes on Contributors

the Persian Empire, Argead Macedonia, the Hellenistic Empires, Macedonian royal women, Lukian of Samosata, and reception studies. Her publications include the monographs Das hellenistische Herrscherpaar in der medialen Repräsentation—Ptolemaios II. und Arsinoë II. (Berlin 2009), Alexander, Makedonien und Persien (Berlin 2014), Die Argeaden (Paderborn 2016), Perdikkas II.—Retter Makedoniens (Berlin 2017), and Alexander der Große— Eroberung—Politik—Rezeption (Stuttgart 2019). She is co-editor of the Lexicon of Argead Makedonia (Berlin 2020) and The Routledge Companion to Women and Monarchy in the Ancient Mediterranean World (London 2021). Frances Pownall is Professor of Classics at the University of Alberta. She has published widely on Greek historiography and has contributed extensively to Brill’s New Jacoby. Recent publications include Ancient Macedonians in the Greek and Roman Sources (co-edited with T. Howe, Swansea 2018), Lexicon of Argead Macedonia (co-edited with W. Heckel, J. Heinrichs, and S. Müller, Berlin 2020), Affective Relations and Personal Bonds in Hellenistic Antiquity (co-edited with E. M. Anson and M. D’Agostini, Oxford 2020), and The Courts of Philip II and Alexander the Great: Monarchy and Power in Ancient Macedonia (co-edited with S. Asirvatham and S. Müller, Berlin, 2022). Jeanne Reames Martin Professor of European History and Director of the Ancient Medi­ terranean Studies Program at the University of Nebraska, Omaha, has published widely on Alexander, including, The Mourning of Alexander (2001), The Cult of Hephaistion (2010), and Becoming Macedonian (2020). Currently she is at work on a monograph examining Hephaistion and Krateros as both cooperating and clashing figures at the court. She co-edited, with Timothy Howe, Macedonian Legacies: Studies on Ancient Macedonian History and Culture in Honor of Eugene N. Borza (Regina Books, 2008). In addition, she dabbles occasionally in reception studies, works to further knowledge about Macedonia (not just Alexander) in social media spaces, and has even written a pair of novels, Dancing with the Lion: Becoming & Rise (2019) about the young Alexander before he became “the Great.” Joseph Roisman is a Professor Emeritus of Classics, Colby College. His recent monographs include: Lycurgus, Against Leocrates. Introduction and Commentary by Joseph Roisman. Translation by Michael Edwards. Clarendon Ancient History Series,

Notes on Contributors

xv

Oxford. 2019; The Classical Art of Command: Eight Greek Generals Who Changed the History of Warfare. (Oxford, 2017); Lives of the Attic Orators: Texts from Pseudo-Plutarch, Photius and the Suda. Introduction and Commentary by Joseph Roisman and I. Worthington, Translation by Robin Waterfield (Oxford, 2015); Alexander’s Veterans and the Early Wars of the Successors (Austin, TX 2012). Jacek Rzepka teaches Ancient History at the University of Warsaw. As a researcher Rzepka focuses on political, constitutional, cultural, and military developments in North-Western Greece and Macedon in the Classical period and the Hellenistic Age. He published a number articles on Macedonian history in the reigns of Philip and Alexander in academic journals and collected volumes in English, and two Polish-language monographs on the topic including The Battle of Chaeronea (2011). His most recent book is Greek Federal Terminology (Gdansk 2017). Matthew A. Sears is Professor of Classics and Ancient History at the University of New Brunswick. He is the author of Sparta and the Commemoration of War (Cambridge, 2024), Understanding Greek Warfare (Routledge, 2019); Battles and Battlefields of Ancient Greece: A Guide to their History, Topography, and Archaeology (with C. Jacob Butera), (Pen & Sword, 2019); and Athens, Thrace, and the Shaping of Athenian Leadership (Cambridge, 2013). Carolyn Willekes is an Assistant Professor in the Department of General Education at Mount Royal University. Her research focuses on the horse-human relationship in antiquity, with a particular interest in the role of the horse in war and sport. She has several publications on equine related topics, including the monograph The Horse in the Ancient World: From Bucephalus to the Hippodrome (I.B. Tauris 2016). Graham C. L. Wrightson is Associate Professor of History at South Dakota State University. His research focuses primarily on Macedonian military history with a special focus on military manuals and the sarissa phalanx. He has published multiple articles and papers and three monographs on Macedonian warfare. With Jeff Rop and Conor Whately he is currently working on a two-volume series on combined arms warfare in the Ancient Near East.

Acknowledgements This volume would not have been possible without the efforts of numerous individuals. I wish to thank all those who agreed during the midst of an epidemic to participate in this project. With access often to materials cut off and mostly only electronic communication available, the project had its serious obstacles. Many of you I had known for decades, but some I only knew by reputation and publication. Everyone proved a pleasure to work with, and all have generously given of their time and expertise to produce what is a most comprehensive volume on the campaigns of this most famous father and son. Additionally, I would very much like to acknowledge the participation of the general series editor, Lee Brice, in this volume. He has overseen it from the beginning, and, indeed, has also contributed an Introduction and a chapter. I also appreciate the efforts of the Brill team, Mirjam Elbers and Giulia Moriconi and the production editors as well as the anonymous peer reviewers. Thank you all.

This volume is dedicated to all the past scholars, absent friends and colleagues, whose work on Macedonia, its kings, or military history made possible the diversity of current approaches to these and related topics

∵

m on

Amphipolis

tr y

samothrace imbros

thasos

Philippi

thrace

Cardia

Cyzicus

Lampsacus Cius

BLACK SEA

Byzantium Chalcedon Nicomedia

PROPONTIS

Perinthus

Greece1 and the Aegean Area Map Greece and the Aegean Area. From Anson, E. M. (2015) Eumenes of Cardia. A Greek Among Macedonians, 2nd edn. Leiden. Used by permission

crete

S

150

DE

Kilometers

LA

0

Aegae Pydna orestis Dion

R

Heracleia Pontica

lemnos Scepsis tymphaea us e n a Dodona corcyra R. P AEGEAN SEA Larisa thessaly Crannon Pergamon Ambracia s lesbos lydia aecu Gulf of Pagasae Lamia Mytilene R. C euboea skyros e Heracleia aetolia R. H oetaea Thermopylae Ipsus phocis Chalcis locris Sardis Smyrna Chaironela Chios Naupactus Delphi Thebes er Erythrae Colophon Patrae Celaenae nd chios a ea R . C a ys te r Sicyon Megara elis R. M Athens Ephesus arcadia Corinth Piraeus samos andros Laodikeia Nemea Saronic Olympia tenos Miletus Mantinea ArgosEpidaurus Gulf caria Cape Aspendus Megalopolis Tegea delos Sunion Myndus pisidia M paros naxos Halicarnassus ES Messene SEN IA Sparta Caunus IONIAN SEA lycia Phaselis amorgus cos melos Cnidus Xanthus Rhodes Taenarum thera cythera rhodes

epirus

Pella lyncos eordaea

A NI

pelagonia

DO

CE

MA

illyria

hellesp phrygontin ia e

s xiu .A

us

S R.

C YC

rm

YR ILL Kub

Don

ARAL SEA

us

CA

CA

an

IA

Jax art es

Indu

s

isu

s

IA

D

E

M

Alexandria

Pura

Baluchistan Desert

ARABIAN SEA

GEDROSIA

Alexander’s Campaigns. Roisman, J. (ed) (2003) Brill’s Companion to Alexander the Great. Brill. Leiden. Used by permission

SEA

Map 2

RED

ALEXANDER’S CAMPAIGNS Persian Empire Alexander’s Route Nearchus’s Route Craterus’s Route

Syene

EA

ARABIA

IA

Thebes

AN

PERSIS

am

NS

Pa rop

A SPI

RM

EGYPT

Pataia

INDIA

in India Indus

BLACK SEA SCYTHIA MACEDONIA Pella THRACE C AU Aegae CA Byzantium SUS CHORASMIA Lamia Sinope MO UN Hellespont Troy Dascylium Cy TA I N S Alexandreschate Thebes Pergamum Ancyra rus Trapezus Samarkanda Corinth Athens Sardes Gordium CAPPADOCIA Araxes Sparta Ephesus SOGDIANA Halys Miletus CILICIA Western LYCIA T HINDU Himalayas i g Halicarnassus Perge ris HYRCANIA Mallus BACTRIA KUSH RHODES Issus Nisibis Soli s Xanthus Drapsaca ME Bactra CRETA rsu SO Hydaspes Aomus Gaugamela Zadracarta Ta PO Myriandrus Taxali Thapsacus TA Hecatompylos MEDITERRANEAN M Rhagae Marathus E SYRIA up I A Artacoana Alexandria Byblus Ecbatana Bucephala hra PARTHIA SEA Emesa tes Sidon Nicaea Arion Damascus ARIA Tyre Opis Acesines Paraetonium Jerusalem Babylon Alexandra Malli otes IRAN Gaza a DRANGIANA ARACHOSIA dr Susa Oracle of Ammon Heliopolis is Hy Alexandria as SUSIANA (Siwah) Memphis Pelusium ph Arachoton y H Pasargadae Alexandria Parsepolis LIBYA

Nile

D a n ube

Ox

Introduction: Not the Usual Treatment of Philip II and Alexander III of Macedon Lee L. Brice Philip II was third son of a Macedonian ruler and for a time a hostage to the kingdom’s enemies. Yet he became king at a time of crisis and went on to secure the kingdom and his reputation through a combination of military innovation, perseverance, and royal diplomacy, even uniting much of Greece in an anti-Persian war. His son, Alexander III, whom he had prepared for rule, took up the war and achieved “greatness” through his remarkable military activity. He conquered the then largest empire in the world. He did so with talent, wealth, and a great deal of support, including capable officers and skilled manpower—a military forged initially through the reforms of Philip II, his father. Alexander would not have had the capacity to start what he did without the activity of his father. But he and his army earned the conquests and reputation over ten years of campaigning. The legacy of their activities has reverberated through much of the Afro-Eurasian world and been written about over much of the period since summer 323. It is only fitting that an examination of the military activities of the two kings, father and son, should be brought together in one volume. Philip and Alexander, their lives, activities, and legacy, have received attention from authors since the fourth century BCE.1 Even though Philip’s reputation was obscured by Alexander,2 he did not disappear entirely from the historical record. Greek authors beginning with Theopompus in the mid-fourth century wrote volumes devoted to their careers and legacies. Hellenistic authors kept the stories going. The fascination with the kings continued and even increased as Rome became the dominant power in the Hellenistic world and individuals sought to learn from or even emulate Alexander. The attention continued through the Middle Ages into the present and shows no signs of diminishment. Despite widespread rejection of the “great man” approach in historiography, Alexander III remains a growth industry in modern scholarship. Treatments still include publications fixated on his leadership, character, and battles,3 but studies of Alexander well reflect historiographic evolution over the last century. 1 All dates in this volume are BCE unless indicated otherwise. 2 Grainger (2007); Gabriel (2010, 2017). 3 E.g., Heckel (2003, 2008); Lonsdale (2007).

© Lee L. Brice, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_002

2

Brice

As historical methods and interests change and diversify, scholars keep up a steady production of work focused on myriad aspects of Macedonia, Philip II, Alexander III, and their history, as well as the many impacts of their reigns. In addition to the numerous monographs on the kings and their kingdom, there have been multi-author edited volumes in which authors have approached the Macedonian kings and their impacts from diverse perspectives.4 Topics covered in these latter works include diplomacy, historiography, politics of the court, juridical and social institutions, the religion of their native land, ethnicity, deifications, art, literature, the impacts of the conquests, reception, philosophic implications, and much more besides.5 Anthologies like these have only scratched the surface of what we can learn about Macedonia, its history, society, culture, kings, and impact on the rest of the Hellenic and Hellenistic world. The result is that the military campaigns are made only a small part of these far wider investigations and mostly presented as examinations of particular battles. The present volume focuses exclusively on the military activities of Philip II and Alexander III. The contributions to this volume transcend traditional battle­­field discussions of strategy and tactics or leadership.6 The authors examine those elements that went into contributing to the military activities of the two kings and which ultimately made possible their success or occasional failure. Another way in which this volume stands out is by bringing together a mixture of active scholars who bring to their contributions some fresh perspectives and recent research grounded in the evidence but drawing on new approaches and new questions. There are chapters drawing on logistics, affective relations, women, atrocities, propaganda, medical care, and the experiences of soldiers. Taken together, this volume provides a much wider consideration of Philip’s and Alexander’s militaries. While it fills the gap in military history and Greek history, this volume also dovetails well with previous and forthcoming works. It is difficult for any book to cover everything. Attempting to cover every topic relevant to appreciating Macedonian military activity in a single volume will result in an even more enormous volume than the present one and there will always be topics some 4 E.g., Roisman (2003); Roisman and Worthington (2010); Carney and Ogden (2010); Moore (2018); Pownall et al. (2022); Ogden (2024). There are numerous other multi-authored volumes that include single chapters which touch on aspects of Macedon, Philip, Alexander, or their impacts. 5 A sense of the range of publications can be found in the “Works Cited” lists throughout the present volume. 6 There are numerous studies and volumes devoted to battlefield studies of Philip’s and Alexander’s battles, too many to cite in full: e.g., Heckel (2003, 2008) provides two of the better book-length examples.

Introduction

3

readers would prefer were included.7 Some topics had to be omitted. There is good scholarship published and forthcoming on some of the issues related to the campaigns including Persia, Greek warfare, bodyguards, and Macedonia before Philip, among many other relevant topics. Readers seeking discussions of topics purposely omitted from this volume can find them in these other resources.8 In this sense, the Companion to the Campaigns of Philip and Alexander of Macedonia links up with the broader trends in scholarship on Macedonia, Greece, and the activities and impacts of Philip and Alexander. 1

Organization

The volume is divided into thematic sections. Part 1 takes a broad look at aspects of Philip’s and Alexander’s campaigns and battles. Although battlefield narratives and other topics sometimes labeled “drums and trumpets” have fallen out of favor in military historiography, they remain a necessary element—providing the background for what is to follow. Frances Pownall starts off this section with a chapter on Philip’s grand strategy. As part of her discussion, Pownall considers the applicability of the term “Grand Strategy” for the fourth century, concluding it can work if used cautiously and clearly. She then discusses how Philip’s strategy evolved. It seems he did not when he came to the throne in 359 have an overarching plan greater than security for the kingdom, but he adapted quickly. His diplomatic activity coupled with his military reforms contributed to his ability to take advantage of opportunities as they appeared. In this way the reader can see how Philip’s reforms provided Alexander with the military capacity to daunt Greece and undertake a difficult campaign in Asia. Alexander’s four major campaign battles (Granicus, Issus, Gaugamela, and Hydaspes) have been called decisive engagements.9 Matthew Sears examines these engagements, focusing attention on what they tell us about the king’s skill and planning. While there is not a great deal new to add our knowledge of battlefield tactics, Sears draws on recent work to add some important insights 7 For example, chapters on Macedonia’s neighbors can be found in Roisman (2003); Roisman and Worthington (2010); Lane Fox (2011); LAM. 8 For example, Campbell and Tritle (2013); Valeva et al. (2015); Armstrong and Trundle (2019); Hatzopoulos (2020); Jacobs and Rollinger (2021); Hebblewhite and Whately (2023); Heckel et al. (2021); Donahue and Brice (2023); Ogden (2024); Armstrong et al. (2024); Hyland and Rhezakani (2024). 9 Lonsdale (2007) uses the word “decisive” 65 times, labeling most of what Alexander did militarily to have been “decisive.” Hammond (1994, 94–95, 132) only referred to Issus and Gaugamela as “decisive.”

4

Brice

and highlight reexaminations, particularly of Alexander’s use of cavalry. More usefully, he also deploys these battles to interrogate the notion of “decisive battles.”10 In so doing he provides readers with a definition and criteria with which to judge engagements generally and draw their own conclusions. Ed Anson discusses in chapter 3 modern military concepts that may shed light on aspects of ancient warfare employed by Philip and Alexander. The concepts which he explores are Rapid Dominance (formerly known as “shock and awe”), Inner Front/Stability Operations, and Insurgency/COIN policies. In each case he seeks to demonstrate how use of these concepts can help modern military historians better understand the campaigns and policies of Philip and Alexander and how we can better explain the tactics and policies that guided some aspects of the wars. Rapid Dominance, Anson suggests, was more Alexander’s policy than Philip’s. He also finds that Alexander had to deal with insurgency and successfully used stability operations as part of his COIN response. One of the advantages of such diversity of scholarship in a volume such as this one is that readers have a chance to explore and evaluate different approaches. Given the importance of the Aegean and Mediterranean seas to dominance of the Greek world, it should not be surprising that naval warfare was a common aspect of warfare in the fourth century. Although they are more famous for their land battles, both Philip and Alexander used naval forces during their campaigns. Joseph Roisman discusses this aspect of their respective campaigns. Roisman discusses the evidence and concludes that Philip’s use of naval forces was limited and less important than often characterized. He then examines Alexander’s naval activity, concluding that it was often ineffective against opposing forces, but was important in support roles. The bulk of his discussion focuses on the naval contest in the siege of Tyre, but even in this case the navy was more effective as a platform in support of a siege than in naval combat operations. Overall, Roisman concludes that Alexander’s use of fleets was not so different from Philip’s—entirely subordinate to the land campaign. Studies of warfare have shown that sieges are more common overall than the pitched battles that attract so much attention. Elizabeth Baynham discusses several cases in which Philip and Alexander both employed siege tactics with different outcomes. The chapter opens by discussing some of the fourth-century background for siege tactics before moving on to the core of the discussion. There were numerous sieges between their campaigns, 10

On the concept of decisive battles, see Harari (2007); Wheeler (2011) 66, 73, 77 n. 86.

Introduction

5

but Baynham narrows her focus to compare the results of Philip’s sieges of Perinthus and Byzantium to Alexander’s sieges of Tyre, Gaza, and the Sogdian Rock. The point of the comparison is not to find that Alexander was necessarily better at siege warfare than Philip, but to point out other aspects such as the cost in lives and the role external factors play in the success and the course of a siege. In the process of comparing them, Baynham also highlights the importance of Philip’s and Alexander’s ability to motivate their men to greater efforts under difficult circumstances.11 In this way the relationship between the two kings and their armies receives emphasis. The second part of the volume focuses on the various components and units of the forces Philip and Alexander deployed in their campaigns. This part of the volume looks inward, focusing attention on the units and groups that made the two kings’ success possible. Graham Wrightson starts this section with an examination of Macedonian infantry. His discussion of the sarissa phalanx, Hypaspists, argyraspids, and light infantry provides readers with a good sense of how these units were employed and why they were so effective. Wrightson points out the shortcomings in our evidence for Philip’s army and draws on the army of Alexander to fill in some of the gaps. He also makes clear that each type of unit had a role to play in combat so that the army was so effective because of the coordination and flexibility provided by these units. Carolyn Willekes discusses the cavalry, which were such an important component of the Macedonian military and Alexander’s success on campaign. Starting with the Macedonian cavalry, Willekes provides a good background to the horse in Macedonian culture, showing how it fit within the society of Macedonia. She then also discusses the Thessalian cavalry from a similar standpoint. Her discussion of the horse in Thessalian culture is invaluable because of the importance of these cavalry units to Alexander’s success. Following her discussion of the regional cultures of breeding, care, and horsemanship, she presents cavalry tactics, armor and weaponry, and the like. Finally, she discusses the specific roles and activity played by both types of cavalries in the major battles at Granicus, Issus, and Gaugamela. It is clear from her discussion that the horses were an important component in the Macedonian military successes. Both Philip and Alexander employed mercenaries to augment their Mace­ donian forces. Franca Landucci examines the roles played by the mercenaries. There is little surviving evidence for mercenaries in Philip’s army, but Landucci demonstrates that he employed mercenaries to supplement his forces, often 11 On the importance of morale and motivation in sieges, see Levithan (2020), who deals primarily with Roman sieges, but much of what he has to suggest on these topics applies to sieges in general.

6

Brice

on distant missions, but he placed Macedonian commanders over them to maintain control. Landucci then shows that Alexander internalized the lessons of his father and employed mercenaries in much the same way. As his campaign stretched on, Alexander used more mercenaries, but Landucci suggests they were in support of the Macedonian phalanx and seem not to have played a decisive role in the pitched battles. Alexander also tended to use mercenaries in garrisons and military settlements, particularly in Iran and Central Asia. Landucci closes with a review of the ways mercenaries were connected with the Exile Decree and the Lamian War. Throughout the wars of Philip and Alexander, the Macedonian army drew upon the support of allied and subject soldiers as well as mercenaries. Sulochana Asirvatham makes this complex topic easier to follow by dividing the groups into the regional categories of Greek, Balkan, and Asian. Unlike the mercenaries, Alexander’s use of allies and subjects varied widely. Among the Greeks the Thessalians stand out as actively engaged while among the Balkan peoples the Agrianes are clearly militarily active. The Epigonoi stand out in our sources for different reasons. Asirvatham returns regularly to the question of identifying which groups were allies versus subjects and how we can understand their relationship with Alexander. Most allies and subjects seem to have played more of a support role in engagements, but even this pattern varied as circumstances dictated. Despite this support role the allies and the subjects provided a necessary complement that contributed to Alexander’s success. The contributors to Part 3 examine aspects of the organization and structure of the militaries that made it possible for both kings to manage and direct the military. Neither king could lead the military on his own. It was not enough for the kings to look at an object, point at it, and shout at the army to “Smash.” They needed the assistance of an extremely loyal and experienced officer corps. Waldemar Heckel squeezes a great deal of useful prosopographical knowledge into his discussion of the command structure of the cavalry and infantries of Philip and Alexander.12 In so doing he identifies the officer corps, not just of the Macedonians, but also of the allied and subject units where we can identify the men in command. In the process, Heckel’s chapter not only gives us a coherent sense of how Alexander’s chain of command worked and who these men were (when we have enough information to know), but also provides useful information that further fleshes out the make-up of Philip’s and Alexander’s armies. 12

On Macedonian prosopography, see the superb studies by Heckel (1992, 2016), who also references previous work.

Introduction

7

Money may not make the world go around, but it is still a necessary component of making a military function on campaign. The men at the sharp end of Philip’s and Alexander’s wars expected to get paid at some stage. Meeus reviews the evidence and concludes, quite appropriately, that the soldiers were promised pay and received it. He also explores the various rewards for valor in combat as well as honors for the battlefield dead or their families. Where the evidence permits, Meeus discusses pay and rewards for non-Macedonian soldiers and officers. His chapter reflects the most recent research and leaves the reader with a good sense of the evidence and the state of our knowledge.13 An army as successful as the Macedonian one does not simply appear ex nihilo, but must be raised and then trained in skills, strength, and discipline. Jacek Rzepka discusses the evidence for recruitment in Macedonia as well as training. These are not topics that typically attract the attention of ancient authors due to their lack of drama, but in this case Arrian, Frontinus, and Polyaenus were interested in passing along to readers, some of whom were or would be Roman or auxilia officers, features of what contributed to the success of Philip and Alexander. In the process of the discussion, Rzepka reviews the pre-Philip II army and the historiography. The fourth part of the volume includes two chapters on topics connected with maintaining the military—logistics and the medical corps. James Lacey examines the logistics of the armies with an eye toward moving well beyond Donald Engels’ work on Alexander’s logistics.14 Lacey focuses primarily on Alexander’s campaign, but in the process does treat some of Philip’s measures too. Rather than go through the campaign by month, Lacey uses several critical episodes (e.g., Tyre, Gaza, Egypt, the march to Gaugamela, and Central Asia) to demonstrate flaws in Engels’ treatment of Alexander’s logistics. Lacey draws on practical knowledge and comparative evidence from other militaries, ancient and more recent, to make his points. He provides in the second half of his chapter an effective consideration of how Alexander funded the logistical demands. Recent work has already shown the need to rely less readily on Engels’ work in analyzing ancient logistics.15 Wartime casualties occur, but men who can be treated may live to fight another day or find some other role. The medical infrastructure and knowledge 13 E.g., Matthew (2024). 14 Engels (1978, 2013). For additional discussion on moving past Engels’ work, see Brice (2023) 417–20. 15 Holt (2016); Donahue and Brice (2023); Hyland (2024).

8

Brice

of the Macedonian armies are the topics of David Karunanithy’s thorough examination. He goes over the evidence carefully, looking to the period prior to Philip II and continuing through Alexander’s campaign to demonstrate that there is more evidence than readers might expect. The image Karunanithy reveals is of kings who took military medicine and the treatment of wounds seriously, both for officers and soldiers. He draws necessarily on comparanda from the Roman military to flesh out his discussion in places, but these episodes work well with the evidence for Alexander’s army. Soldiers’ awareness of the capacity for medical care probably bolstered morale in addition to somewhat reducing manpower losses due to sickness and wounds. Part 5 includes treatments on the psychological side of the wars Philip and Alexander waged, the cohesion of the units as well as the propaganda and advertisement of the campaigns. Lee Brice starts off this section with a consideration of military unrest (indiscipline) and the conditions of military service. Military indiscipline does not spontaneously erupt—it has causes rooted in the conditions of service and reliance on good discipline for military effectiveness. Our sources tend to focus on the conditions experienced by the Macedonian soldiers, though numerous features of their service such as exhaustion, stress, celebration, and rest can be generalized for the mercenary, allied, and subject units. Outbreaks of indiscipline, however, are only reported for the Macedonian soldiers and there is little evidence for discipline problems among other units. Both kings encountered collective military unrest on campaign, but Brice shows that during Alexander’s war military unrest increased considerably after 330 until his death. Each incident was resolved and at no point did collective indiscipline threaten either king’s life directly. Propaganda is a topic closely tied to war and imperialism in the modern era,16 but its use in ancient military settings has received published attention lately. Jenn Finn discusses Alexander’s use of propaganda during his war. Philip receives some attention, but the sustained focus is squarely on Alexander. She finds that Alexander deployed several specific strategies for appealing to soldiers, allies, and subjects. These include “appeals to history” such as revenge for the Persian Wars, “appeals to local constituencies” like Greeks and Persians, which varied with the audience, and “universal messaging,” including symbolic stops enroute and the destruction of specific cites, both of which were clear to all communities. Finn reveals a carefully thought-out campaign of propaganda aimed at multiple groups and which seemed to get the message across.

16 E.g., Connelly et al. (2019); Maartens and Bivens (2020).

Introduction

9

Religion was an integral part of Greek warfare, but its treatment by historians has been inconsistent. The last chapter in this part, by Jeanne Reames, focuses on the Macedonian kings’ use of religion as advertisement. That both Philip II and Alexander III used religion as part of their campaigns has never been in doubt. Instead of focusing on either king’s religiosity, Reames focuses on how our five surviving sources (Diodorus, Curtius, Plutarch, Arrian, and Justin) present the kings’ use of religion within military contexts. Her examination reveals how diverse the sources are in presenting religion in military contexts and how these differences, even between the two kings, reflect the cultures and interests of the ancient authors. Leadership has long been an important aspect of authors’ interest in Philip and Alexander.17 The sixth part of this volume takes the two kings’ leadership as its special topic in two chapters. Carol King discusses the nature of Macedonian military leadership and the relationship Philip and then Alexander had with their military. Her focus is the military relationship, though she recognizes that aspects of this cannot be separated from the political. King starts by considering the pre-Philip model of Macedonian leadership and then explores how Philip forged a successful relationship with his commanders and soldiers. Moving to an examination of Alexander’s use of the Macedonian tradition, King demonstrates how Alexander secured the support of the officers and soldiers. His actions in 336–330 reflected a continuation of his father’s leadership practices, but he began to make changes in 330. King concludes that Alexander continued throughout his reign to fulfill traditional expectations of Macedonian military leadership, even if he made it his own. Leadership is a multifaceted quality; therefore, numerous ways exist for investigation of military leadership. Monica D’Agostini considers the affective aspects of Philip’s and Alexander’s leadership. This approach makes it possible to highlight differences between the two kings. Our sources for Philip are scarce but it appears Philip limited affective relations to within his family, primarily Alexander and Cynnane. Affective relations between a king and his officers seem to have been more evident during Alexander’s campaign. D’Agostini uses his relationship with Cleitus the Black, Hephaestion, and Peucestas to demonstrate the affective ties between Alexander and his upper-level officers. Each of these men enjoyed promotion as a result of both their talent and their close emotional ties to the king. One particular feature that comes out of D’Agostini’s 17 Leadership was key to ancient authors’ interest and has remained popular; see chapters in Moore (2018). The bibliography of modern leadership studies is enormous. See for example: Fuller (1958); Hammond (1994); Lonsdale (2007); Grainger (2007); Gabriel (2010, 2017).

10

Brice

study is that after 329 Alexander seems to have maintained the closest ties with officers who shared his vision of future rule, which included emphasis on Asia. As a result of their different approaches to the same issue readers finish this part with a more rounded sense of the similarities and differences between Philip’s and Alexander’s military leadership. The penultimate Part of the book treats the human cost of war, including the treatment of women as well as death and destruction on an immense scale. Elizabeth Carney considers the fates of elite and non-elite women both in Macedonia and in those places where Philip and Alexander led their armies. She points out that while we are generally aware of the fates captured women could expect in war, historians have generally forgotten the impact of many military-age males being away from Macedon. The burden would have fallen on the many women who remained behind during both kings’ reigns, and we have little evidence for how they coped. Captured women could expect brutal treatment and enslavement. Even the women who escaped enslavement would be refugees. The last section of her chapter considers Alexander’s individual treatment of some elite women. Carney broadens the scope of typical treatments of the impact of warfare on women. In war there will always be those who suffer defeat. Often there will also be leaders who seek victory at any cost. Sabine Müller provides a discussion of the violence deployed by Philip and Alexander and their men. After appropriately rejecting the modern definitions of genocide and war crimes as anachronistic, Müller examines the record of wartime violence during the reigns of the two kings. War is ordinarily violent by its nature, but sometimes the level of violence caught the attention of our sources. Müller provides a record of the different kinds of violence wrought during these campaigns and the way ancient authors reacted to it. She also points out that the violence was not limited to the kings’ actions, but can be tied to their officers’ and soldiers’ actions too. It seems that the level of violence in Philip’s and Alexander’s wars was not atypical of wars of conquest in the ancient world, but it did occasionally attract the attention of contemporaries and later ancient authors. The final chapter, by Edward Anson, wraps up the volume with a consideration of the realities of war. Anson revisits some of the topics from his earlier chapter and works in some observations emerging from a reflection on Alexander’s military career. In particular, he revisits the violence of ancient conflict and the way Alexander waged war. The predictable outcome is to emphasize not just the extent of the violence, but its normalcy, an aspect present within multiple chapters. War is violent. In this reality Alexander was not so different from many other kings and commanders with armies and ambitions. Anson’s conclusion is that there were many aspects of his military career we

Introduction

11

would perhaps not laud as meriting accolades, but Alexander was successful on a rare scale. 2

Opportunities for Further Research

It may be difficult to believe that after centuries of attention the Macedonian military has not been treated sufficiently, or that aspects of the military history of the reigns of Philip II and Alexander III need further attention. But the contributions to this volume demonstrate there has been a gap in available resources for readers. Each chapter provides a useful treatment of an aspect of the campaigns, but taken together the contributions provide readers with a broad sense of the militaries the two kings employed and the campaigns they undertook. This volume also demonstrates how much work on military history remains to be done. As noted before, it is not possible in a volume such as this to cover every topic. Opportunities for further study of these kings and Macedonia abound. Rather than cover all the areas, I will provide some examples. Investigation of the environmental history of the campaigns can enlighten us about resource management (e.g., mining and timber) across the empire. What was, in the words of Micah Muscolino, “the military metabolism” of the Macedonian army during Alexander’s campaign and how did it change after 330?18 Lacey’s chapter in this volume is a good start, but more work on military logistics at the more local level where possible is necessary to highlight communication and distribution networks and their management. Such networks preexisted Alexander’s campaign and would remain an important component of the Hellenistic period. Along similar lines, replacement horses, clothing, and weapons could be spoiled, purchased, repaired, or transported from Macedon, but how was specialist equipment like sarissas replaced on campaign? What about weapon replacement in the later stage of the campaign? Were there blacksmiths and carpenters along during the campaign? Knowing this would be helpful and is part of a larger issue. There is also a need for more attention to the issue of the non-combatants who accompanied and supported the campaign. The military contributions of the “support personnel,” free and enslaved, is also in need of attention to fill in, even partially, a yawning chasm in our understanding. The role of enslavement within the campaign has not been considered sufficiently—did the soldiers 18 Muscolino (2015) 4–9: Brice (2023) 421–22.

12

Brice

or officers have personal free or enslaved attendants during the campaign and how were they maintained? What about the mechanics of feeding and ensuring the safety of the drovers, handlers, and porters? They clearly mattered on campaign. Women among the camp followers and in camp are nearly invisible in our sources and yet they were obviously present. What roles did they play besides companionship for some men and how were they fed, clothed, protected, etc. during the marches? What was their status on campaign? These are just a few of the many campaign-related military or military-adjacent topics which merit further attention. The campaigns of Philip and Alexander may be familiar in outline form already to many students and readers of ancient history, but there is so much more to know. It is obvious from the chapters here that despite the obvious talents of both kings they did not achieve their reputation alone. A great many individuals, elite and non-elite, men and women, and from many regions contributed to the outcome of the campaigns. These chapters show that the outline version of the wars of Philip and Alexander has not ossified. As we bring new scholarly methodologies and new questions to our examinations of the past, our understanding of antiquity changes and grows. Philip, Alexander, Macedonia, and the peoples who lived and fought there are in the past and no longer change, but our understanding of them continues to do so. Works Cited Armstrong, J. and Trundle, M. F. (eds) (2019) Brill’s Companion to Sieges in the Ancient Mediterranean. Warfare in the Ancient Mediterranean World 3. Leiden. Armstrong, J., Pomeroy, A. J., and Rosenbloom, D. (eds) (2024) Money, Warfare and Power in the Ancient World: Studies in Honour of Matthew Freeman Trundle. London. Brice, L. L. (ed) (2020) New Approaches to Greek and Roman Warfare. Hoboken, NJ. Brice, L. L. (2023) “Assessing Military Logistics and Diet in Ancient Greece and Rome,” in Donahue and Brice (2024) 403–32. Brice, L. L. and Roberts, J. T. (eds) (2011) Recent Directions in the Military History of the Ancient World. Claremont, CA. Campbell, B. and Tritle, L. A. (eds) (2013) The Oxford Handbook of Warfare in the Classical World. Oxford. Carney, E. D. and Ogden, D. (eds) (2010) Philip II and Alexander the Great: Father and Son, Lives and Afterlives. Oxford. Connelly, J., Fox, J., Goebel, S., and Schmidt, U. (eds) (2019) Propaganda and Conflict: War, Media and Shaping the Twentieth Century. London.

Introduction

13

Donahue, J. F. and Brice, L. L. (eds) (2023) Brill’s Companion to Diet and Logistics in Greek and Roman Warfare. Leiden. Engels, D. (1978) Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army. Berkeley. Engels, D. “Logistics: Sinews of War,” in Campbell and Tritle (2013) 351–68. Fuller, J. F. C. (1958) The Generalship of Alexander the Great. London. Gabriel, R. A. (2010) Philip II of Macedon, Greater than Alexander. Washington, DC. Gabriel, R. A. (2017) Great Generals of the Ancient World. Barnsley, UK. Grainger, J. D. (2007) Alexander the Great Failure: The Collapse of the Macedonian Empire. London. Hammond, N. G. L. (1994) Alexander the Great: King, Commander, and Statesman, 3rd edn. London. Harari, Y. N. (2007) “The Concept of ‘Decisive Battles’ in World History.” Journal of World History 18.3: 251–66. Hebblewhite, M. and Whately, C. (2023) Brill’s Companion to Bodyguards in the Ancient Mediterranean. Warfare in the Ancient Mediterranean World 5. Leiden. Heckel, W. (1992) The Marshals of Alexander’s Empire. London. Heckel, W. (2003) Essential Histories 26: The Wars of Alexander the Great, 336–323 BC. Oxford. Heckel, W. (2008) The Conquests of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Heckel, W. (2016) Alexander’s Marshals. A Study of the Makedonian Aristocracy and the Politics of Military Command. London. Heckel, W., Naiden, F. S., Garvin, E. E., and Vanderspoel, J. (eds) (2021) A Companion to Greek Warfare. Hoboken, NJ. Holt, F. L. (2016) The Treasures of Alexander the Great: How One Man’s Wealth Shaped the World. Oxford. Hyland, J. (2024) “The Achaemenid Military System and Its Campaign Logistics,” in Hyland and Rezakhani (2024) 23–52. Hyland, J., and Rhezakhani, K. (eds) (2024) Brill’s Companion to Warfare in Ancient Iran. Warfare in the Ancient Mediterranean World 9. Leiden. Jacobs, B., and Rollinger, R., (eds) (2020) A Companion to the Achaemenid Persian Empire, 2 vols. Hoboken, NJ. Lane Fox, R. (ed) (2011) Brill’s Companion to Ancient Macedon: Studies in the Archaeology and History of Macedon, 650 BC–300 AD. Leiden. Levithan, J. (2020) “Roman Siege Warfare: Moral and Morale,” in Brice (2020) 139–48. Lonsdale, D. J. (2007) Alexander the Great: Lessons in Strategy. London. Maartens, B. and Bivens, T. H. (eds) (2020) Propaganda and Public Relations in Military Recruitment: Promoting Military Service in the Twentieth and Twenty-First Centuries. London. Matthew, C. (2024) “The Wage Cost of Alexander’s Pike-Phalanx,” in Armstrong et al. (2024) 127–44.

14

Brice

Moore, K. R. (ed) (2018) Brill’s Companion to the Reception of Alexander the Great. Leiden. Muscolino, M. S. (2015) The Ecology of War in China: Henan Province, the Yellow River, and Beyond, 1938–1950. Cambridge. Ogden, D. (ed) (2024) The Cambridge Companion to Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Pownall, F., Asirvatham, S. R., and Müller, S. (eds) (2022) The Courts of Philip II and Alexander the Great Monarchy and Power in Ancient Macedonia. Berlin. Roisman, J. (ed) (2003) Brill’s Companion to Alexander the Great. Leiden. Roisman, J., and Worthington, I. (eds) (2010) A Companion to Ancient Macedonia. Malden, MA. Valeva, J., Nankov, E., and Graninger, D. (eds) (2015) A Companion to Ancient Thrace. Malden, MA. Wheeler, E. (2011) “Greece: Mad Hatters and March Hares,” in Brice and Roberts (2011) 53–104.

Part 1 The Combat and Campaigns of Philip and Alexander

∵

Chapter 1

Philip’s Grand Strategy Frances Pownall Over the last fifty years, there has been a vigorous debate as to whether the concept of “grand strategy” can legitimately be applied to the ancient world. The debate opened in 1976 with Edward Luttwak, who influentially traced the development of a comprehensive, cohesive, and centralized strategy in the Roman Empire (particularly focusing upon its frontiers) from the Julio-Claudians to the crisis of the third century CE.1 Luttwak’s hypothesis was almost immediately challenged on the grounds that Roman imperial policy was determined by a series of ad hoc decisions rather than long-term planning and that any attempt to infer an overarching grand strategy involves an unacceptable amount of anachronism.2 More recent scholarship, however, has trended towards an increasing acceptance of the view that grand strategy can be discerned not only in the Roman Empire writ large (that is, beyond the frontiers),3 but in other ancient imperial powers as well,4 including Alexander the Great.5 But Alexander’s grand strategy cannot be understood in isolation from that of his father, Philip II, who transformed Macedonia into a truly international power. Before we can proceed to an examination of Philip II in this light, it is necessary to define what we mean by “grand strategy,” for the term is a modern coinage, and there is little direct evidence for such a concept in the ancient sources, although inferential arguments can be made.6 As Paul Kennedy has argued in a classic study, “the crux of grand strategy lies … in policy, that is, in the capacity of the nation’s leaders to bring together all of the elements, both military and non-military, for the preservation and enhancement of the nation’s long-term (that is, in both wartime and peacetime) best interests.”7 Thus, grand strategy 1 Luttwak (1976). All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE except where indicated otherwise. 2 Millar (1982) 2; Isaac (1990) 5–6; Whittaker (2004) 28–49. 3 Ferrill (1991a) and (1991b); Wheeler (1993); Kagan (2006); Gambash (2013), with specific application to Roman maritime history; Lacey (2022). 4 Luttwak (2009) extended his hypothesis to the Byzantine Empire; see also Rahe (2016), (2017), (2019), and (2020) on Classical Sparta. 5 Lonsdale (2007), esp. 45–78; Naiden (2019). 6 Cf. Ferrill (1991b) 73; Wheeler (1993) 22–24. 7 Kennedy (1991a) 5 (italics original).

© Frances Pownall, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_003

18

Pownall

does not achieve its objectives through military operations alone (although they can certainly play a role),8 but through inter alia the management of resources, diplomacy, and the ability to read the national political culture.9 Furthermore, the successful implementation of policy to achieve long-range goals is not static or monolithic, but must necessarily be adjusted in response to the changing geopolitical environment; as Kennedy states, grand strategy “relies … upon the constant and intelligent reassessment of the polity’s ends and means.”10 As I shall argue, Philip’s grand strategy evolved throughout his eventful reign from a relatively simplistic model to a much more complex one, and the events of two crucial battles (the Battle of the Crocus Field and the Battle of Chaeronea) proved decisive in his reassessment of the most effective methods of obtaining his long-range objectives. 1

Philip’s Early Strategy

In 360/59 BCE,11 Philip notoriously ascended to the Argead throne in the most fraught of circumstances, the culmination of a decade of instability following the death of his father Amyntas III. With Philip’s older brother Perdiccas III dead on the battlefield along with 4,000 Macedonian soldiers, the victorious Illyrians under Bardylis occupied much of Upper Macedonia and were preparing to make a push into the heartland, while the Paeonians were poised to invade Lower Macedonia. To make matters worse, both the Thracians and the Athenians were actively supporting pretenders to the throne.12 In this desperate crisis, the young king immediately took decisive but necessarily short-term measures to buy time to stabilize his precarious position. He negotiated some sort of truce with the most pressing external threat, the Illyrians, as they surprisingly failed to follow up their decisive victory over Perdiccas; the agreement may have included Philip’s marriage to the Illyrian princess Audata, whom the Peripatetic Satyrus identifies as the first of his seven wives

8

Cf. Lonsdale (2007) 46: “without effective grand strategy military victories may often only bring temporary benefits and stability.” 9 Kennedy (1991a) 4–5; cf. Wheeler (1993) 10; Kagan (2006) 348–349; Lonsdale (2007) 6–7. 10 Kennedy (1991a) 6. 11 On the date of Philip’s accession, see Hatzopoulos (2020) 128–29 (late summer 360); but cf. Anson (2020) xvii–xviii (late spring/early summer 359). 12 On the grave internal and external threats facing Philip upon his accession, see Diod. Sic. 16.2.4–3.1 and Just. Epit. 7.6.3–4; cf. Ellis (1976) 44–45; Griffith (HM2) 208–10; Worthington (2008) 20–22; Müller (2010) 166–67, (2016) 236.

Philip ’ s Grand Strategy

19

(Satyrus apud Ath. 13.557c  =  F 25 Schorn).13 Through the judicious use of bribery, he persuaded the Paeonians not to invade and the Thracians to abandon the pretender Pausanias (Diod. Sic. 16.3.4). Recognizing that the main reason the Athenians were backing the pretender Argaeus was their desire to recover Amphipolis (which they had lost during the Peloponnesian War), Philip withdrew his troops from the city and made it autonomous (Diod. Sic. 16.3.3–4; cf. Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.17).14 When this gesture was not enough to cause the Athenians to withdraw all their support from Argaeus,15 Philip ambushed him, killing many of his mercenaries (Diod. Sic. 16.3.5–6), as well as (probably) Argaeus himself,16 and captured a few Athenians (Just. Epit. 7.6.6; Lib. 15.42 and 20.23). He followed up his victory with overtures of alliance to Athens (Diod. Sic. 16.4.1; Dem. 23.121) on the grounds (later revealed to be specious) that he had no interest in Amphipolis.17 Thus, in the perilous first year of his accession, Philip gained his immediate goals, the safeguarding of his kingdom and his throne, through the skillful deployment of diplomacy, bribery, political marriage, and even outright deception, combined with minor but decisive military action when necessary.18 Having temporarily neutralized the most urgent threats, Philip turned his attention to securing the borders of his kingdom to achieve more lasting stability. First, however, it was necessary to transform the Macedonian army, decimated by Bardylis and the Illyrians, into a professional, cohesive, and properly equipped military force. Although the full implementation of Philip’s wide-ranging military reforms was a long-range initiative,19 his new army stabilized the western frontier during the campaigning season of 358, when he defeated and subjected the Paeonians and routed the Illyrians, expelling 13 Worthington (2008) 19, 23–24. Philip may have married Audata the following year, however, after his expulsion of the Illyrians; cf. Carney (2000) 58; Müller (2016) 237. 14 Cf. Heinrichs and Müller (2020) 79: “This (i.e., Philip’s declaration of Amphipolis’ autonomy) does not imply that he recognized Athens’ claims to it. But the Athenians may have interpreted it in this way, and as a clever politician, he will have done nothing to correct them.” 15 On the Athenian role in Argaeus’ attempt to seize the Macedonian throne, see Heckel (1996); Anson (2020) 56–58. 16 So, Griffith (HM2) 212. 17 There is almost certainly no truth to Demosthenes’ later claim (2.6–7; cf. Theopompus BNJ 115 F 30a–b) that Philip made a secret agreement to hand over Amphipolis to the Athenians in exchange for Pydna; Worthington (2008) 41; Müller (2010) 168; Heinrichs and Müller (2020) 79. 18 On Philip’s reputation for diplomacy, see Just. Epit. 7.6.4–5; Diod. Sic. 16.3.3, 95.3; Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.9; cf. Ryder (1994). 19 On Philip’s military reforms, see Worthington (2008) 26–32; Anson (2020) 45–71.

20

Pownall

them from Upper Macedonia (Diod. Sic. 16.4.2–7 and 8.1). Philip’s expulsion of  the  Illyrians effectively resulted in his annexation of Upper Macedonia, where the local elites had long resisted Argead control.20 It is probably at this time that he married Phila,21 a member of the ruling dynasty of Elimeia, to stem that region’s separatist tendencies.22 After successfully securing the western border and unifying his kingdom, Philip rekindled the traditional Argead friendship with the Aleuads of Thessaly.23 His motives are not difficult to discern. The Thessalians possessed the best cavalry in Greece (a crucial consideration considering Philip’s ongoing military reforms) and controlled the passes between Macedonia and Thessaly (Just. Epit. 7.6.8–8; Dem. 18.146).24 In response to the attempts of Alexander of Pherae’s successors to re-establish hegemony over the rest of Thessaly after his assassination in 358, the Aleuads of Larissa invited their old ally, Philip, to intervene against their traditional enemy.25 Philip solidified this alliance with a diplomatic marriage to Philinna of Larissa, who was probably a member of the powerful Aleuad family.26 Nevertheless, he proceeded to hedge his bets and exploit existing regional animosities in Thessaly by also marrying an elite woman from the other powerful Thessalian city of Pherae,27 Nicesipolis,28 who is attested to have been the niece of Jason of Pherae (Steph. Byz. s.v. 20 Ellis (1976) 58–61; Worthington (2008) 34–35; Müller (2010) 170, (2016) 241–43. 21 Pace e.g., Griffith (HM2) 212, and Worthington (2008) 19, who argue that Philip married Phila prior to his accession and that she was therefore his first wife, Satyrus (apud Ath. 13.557c = F 25 Schorn) states explicitly that Philip’s marriages were associated with his military campaigns. On the chronological reliability of Satyrus’ list, see Tronson (1984); Ogden (2023) 17–26. 22 On the association between Philip’s annexation of Elimeia and his marriage with Phila, see Carney (2000) 59. 23 On the existing Argead-Aleuad connnection, see Sprawski (2005) 31–37; Graninger (2010) 309–13; Pal (2020). 24 Worthington (2008) 35–36; Graninger (2010) 314; Sprawski (2020) 492. 25 Theopompus BNJ 115 F 34; Diod. Sic. 16.14.1–2; cf. Martin (1982); Buckler (1989) 58–62. 26 Allegations of her low background in the later sources (Just. Epit, 9.9.2 and 13.2.11; Plut. Alex. 77.5; Ath. 13.578a) should be discounted as slurs directed at the son she had with Philip, the future Philip III Arrhidaeus; cf. Carney (2000) 51–62; Ogden (2023) 25. 27 On Philip’s divide and conquer policy in Thessaly, see Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.19; cf. Buckler (1989) 62 (“Philip came away from Thessaly with a foot in each camp”); Sprawski (2020) 492. 28 The date of Philip’s marriage to Nicespolis is contested. Some argue that Philip’s marriage to Nicesipolis fits better into his settlement of Thessaly in the aftermath of his victory in the Battle of the Crocus Field (on the political and military context, see below) as does the naming of the daughter from this union Thessalonice; Heckel (2021) 351–52; Worthington (2008) 64–65; Müller (2016) 254. But the birth of Thessalonice would not have occurred at the time of the marriage and she may indeed have been born significantly later; Carney (2000) 60–61 and Ogden (2023) 19–20.

Philip ’ s Grand Strategy

21

Θεσσαλονίκη). Similarly, Philip continued to guard against the potential threat of the Illyrians by allying with his western neighbors, the Molossians of Epirus, a political friendship cemented with his marriage to Olympias, the niece of the ruling king Arybbas and the future mother of Alexander III.29 Philip’s next challenge was to gain access to the northern Aegean coast, where he faced two significant foes, Athens and the powerful Chalcidian League headed by the city of Olynthus. Fortunately for Philip, the Athenians, distracted by the revolt of the key members of their fourth-century naval confederacy in the Social War (357–355), were unable to prevent him from taking Amphipolis (Diod. Sic. 16.8.2) or ultimately the remaining Athenian possessions in the Thermaic Gulf (Diod. Sic. 16.31.6 and 34.4–5; Dem. 1.9 and 12; 4.35). In order to head off any possible rapprochement between the Chalcidian League and Athens (their chief rival in the northern Aegean), Philip promised that he would expel the Athenians from Potidaea and hand the city over to the Olynthians, which he proceeded to do (Diod. Sic. 16.8.3–6; Dem. 2.7; 6.20; 8.62; 23.107).30 Philip’s alliance with the Chalcidians allowed him to expand his territory into western Thrace, where the Macedonian army was victorious over the combined forces of the Illyrians, Paeonians, and Thracians (Diod. Sic. 16.22.3; cf. 16.3.7; Just. Epit. 12.16.6; Plut. Alex. 3.5). By securing the eastern border, Philip had successfully safeguarded the integrity of his realm, and stood poised to look beyond the limited and often temporary benefits to be gained by the combination (however astute) of various kinds of diplomacy and the calculated deployment of his newly-reformed Macedonian army.31 As it turned out, Philip’s intervention in a conflict that initially did not involve him or the Macedonians at all proved decisive in the evolution of a grand strategy focused upon ideology rather than diplomacy or military conquest that would eventually result in his conquest of Greece. 2

The Battle of the Crocus Field

The conflict that offered Philip the opportunity of extending his influence south into the heartland of the Greek world was the so-called Third Sacred 29 Just. Epit. 6.10–11; Satyrus apud Ath. 13.557c = F 25 Schorn; Plut. Alex. 2.2; cf. Müller (2016) 243. 30 On Philip’s alliance with the Chalcidian League, see Worthington (2008) 42–43; Psoma (2011) 132–33; Anson (2020) 117. 31 On Philip’s aims in Greece, I agree with those who have argued that Philip’s intention to expand into central and southern Greece dates to relatively early in his reign; cf. Buckler (1996); Worthington (2008) 52–71; Anson (2020) 121–49.

22

Pownall

War.32 The war broke out in 357/6,33 when the Thebans took advantage of Sparta’s current military weakness and Athens’ embroilment in the Social War to settle a longstanding grudge against the Phocians, indicting them before the Delphic Amphictyony (the religious organization of central Greek ethne that administered the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi) on a charge of sacrilege (Diod. Sic. 16.23.2–3; Paus. 10.2.1 and 10.15.1; Paus. 10.2.1; Just. 8.1.4–6).34 The Phocians did not have the resources to pay the massive fine levied against them by the Delphic Amphictyony (where the Thebans and the Thessalians, their hereditary enemies, held a clear majority) and in desperation seized the wealthy sanctuary of Apollo,35 claiming that it was theirs by ancestral right (cf.  Hom.  Il.  2.517–19). Despite the military superiority of the Amphictyonic forces led by the Thebans and the Thessalians, they were unable to make any headway against the Phocians, who plundered the considerable resources of the sanctuary of Apollo to hire a mercenary army (Diod. Sic. 16.30, 32–33), thereby escalating a minor local squabble into a decade-long interstate conflict. After several seasons of indecisive campaigns, Philip entered the conflict almost by chance. By 354, after his conquest of Methone, the last remaining Athenian possession in the northwest Aegean, Philip controlled the entire Macedonian coastline (apart from the Chalcidice). With his hands free, he accepted the appeal of his Thessalian allies, the Aleuads of Larisa,36 to intervene in their ongoing struggle with Lycophron of Pherae.37 Philip’s intervention must have been successful, for Lycophron proceeded to summon reinforcements from his own allies, the Phocians (Diod. Sic. 16.35.1). Ironically, the Phocian commander Onomarchus had taken a leaf out Philip’s playbook and to forestall the Thessalians from uniting against his mercenary forces offered substantial financial assistance to Lycrophron (Diod. Sic. 16.33.2–3; cf. 34.2), thereby sparking the current round of conflict between Pherae and Larissa.38 By allying with 32 33 34 35

The numbered series of Sacred Wars is a modern convention; Pownall (1998). On the origins of the war, see Buckler (1989) 9–21; cf. Pownall (2020b). On the Delphic Amphictyony, see Pownall (2020a), with earlier bibliography. Note, however, that the theme of the desperation of the Phocians itself was subject to manipulation, both by the Phocians and those who supported them (particularly the Athenians); cf. Franchi (2015) 61–63. 36 Although neither Diodorus (16.35.1) nor Justin (Epit. 8.2.1–2) explicitly names the Aleuads as the “Thessalians” who requested Philip’s intervention, the fact that the campaign was against the tyrants of Pherae strongly implies it; cf. Buckler (1989) 58, 63–64; Graninger (2010) 314; Pal (2020) 49. 37 On the precise chronology of Philip’s intervention in Thessaly, see Buckler (1989) 181–86. 38 Buckler (1989) 48; Worthington (2008) 57.

Philip ’ s Grand Strategy

23

Lycophron, however, Onomarchus inadvertently set in motion the chain of events that led to Philip’s direct intervention in the Sacred War, and he proved to be a far more formidable foe. Philip easily vanquished the force of 7,000 Phocian reinforcements, commanded by Onomarchus’ brother Phayllus, and drove them out of Thessaly (Diod. Sic. 16.35.1). Alarmed by this turn of events, Onomarchus dispatched the entire Phocian mercenary army under his own command to Thessaly, where “with his superior numbers he defeated Philip in two battles and killed many Macedonians,” as Diodorus somewhat laconically states (16.35.2). Polyaenus (Strat. 2.38.2) provides further details on what appears to be the second battle, asserting that the Phocians feigned a retreat up the slopes of a mountain, enticing Philip and the Macedonians into pursuit, only to be ambushed by troops that Onomarchus had stationed above, with devastating results. Diodorus (16.35.2–3) claims that Philip barely maintained the confidence of his troops after this unaccustomed defeat (some of them even deserted) and retreated to Macedonia.39 According to Polyaenus (Strat. 2.38.2), however, Philip is said to have exclaimed with characteristic bravado: “I did not take flight, but I withdrew just as rams do, so that I might charge again all the harder.”40 Whatever Philip’s immediate reaction to this unaccustomed setback may have been, he was not finished with either Onomarchus or Lycrophron. No longer underestimating his opponents, Philip returned to Thessaly with the full Macedonian army the following campaigning season (Diod. Sic. 16.35.3). Outnumbered, Lycrophron once again summoned Onomarchus and the Phocian army, promising them joint rule over Thessaly (Diod. Sic. 16.35.4). The specter of submitting to Pheraean/Phocian hegemony, as well as Onomarchus’ ominous invasion of Boeotia and seizure of several strongholds there (Diod. Sic. 16.35.3; Ephorus BNJ 70 F 94; Arist. Eth. Nic. 3.1116b), galvanized the rest of the Thessalians into joining Philip’s forces. Philip managed to gain the initiative immediately by seizing the port city of Pagasae (Diod. Sic. 16.31.6; Dem. 1.9 and 12), thereby cutting Lycophron and

39 Diodorus’ allegation (16.35.2) that some of the Macedonian soldiers deserted after this debacle is the only attested instance of insubordination among Philip’s troops; cf. Carney (1996/2015); Brice (2015) 74. There is also an undated episode in Polyaenus (Strat. 4.2.6) where Philip successfully deployed humor to distract the Macedonian soldiers from clamoring for their back pay, although this anecdote possibly derives from a sympotic story, as suggested by Roisman (2015) 78; see also Meeus in this volume. See also Alexander’s alleged defense of his father (Curt. 8.1.24), which occurs in a highly rhetorical sympotic context. 40 οὐκ ἔφυγον, ἀλλ’ ἀνεχώρησα ὥσπερ οἱ κριοὶ, ἵν’ αὖθις ποιήσωμαι σφοδροτέραν τὴν ἐμβολήν.

24

Pownall

Onomarchus off from any outside reinforcements,41 particularly the Athenians, whose fleet under the command of Chares arrived too late to prevent his capture of the city (Dem. 4.35; cf. Diod. Sic.16.35.5). Philip then proceeded to the Krokion Plain (from which the engagement derives its colorful modern name, the Battle of the Crocus Field),42 located on the coastal flats west of the Gulf of Pagasae, where he awaited the arrival of Onomarchus with the Phocian army. According to Just. Epit. (8.2.3), eager to instill morale into his discouraged troops and to remind them that they were nominally fighting on behalf of Apollo against the sacrilegious Phocians, Philip ordered his troops to march into the battle wearing laurel wreaths.43 The ensuing confrontation was both bloody and conclusive. Although both Philip and Onomarchus had a force of about 20,000 infantry, the Thessalian cavalry proved decisive in the battle, being superior in both skill and numbers (Diod. Sic. 16.35.5).44 The Thessalian cavalry easily outflanked their opponents and forced them to flee headlong to the seacoast (Diod. Sic.16.35.5; Paus. 10.2.5), where, as Diodorus says, “a massive slaughter of the Phocians took place.”45 The Phocians suffered more than 6,000 casualties, many of whom, including Onomarchus himself, were cut down as they stripped off their armor in a futile attempt to swim out to the Athenian ships, which were standing by under the command of Chares in the Gulf of Pagasae; at least 3,000 Phocian soldiers were also taken prisoner (Diod. Sic.16.35.5–6). Philip hanged (Diod. Sic. 16.35.6) or crucified (Diod. Sic. 16.61.2) Onomarchus’ corpse,46 and threw the rest into the sea as temple-robbers.47 The Battle of the Crocus Field demonstrated to Philip the potential of pursuing a carefully integrated long-term strategy instead of reacting to every 41 Cf. Buckler (1989) 65, 74; Worthington (2008) 60–61. 42 Although no ancient source explicitly identifies the site of the battle, the Krokion Plain is the most likely candidate, offering access to the sea and enough space to deploy some 40,000 infantry (cf. Diod. Sic. 16.35.4–5). See Buckler (1989) 74–75, n. 37. 43 Justin’s subsequent statement (8.2.4) that the Phocian mercenaries, conscious of their guilt, threw away their weapons and took flight as soon as they caught sight of the god’s symbol (i.e., Apollo’s laurel) clearly reflects later propaganda. 44 Diodorus (16.35.5) says that the cavalry of Philip and the Thessalians numbered 3,000 cavalry as opposed to the 500 of Onomarchus and the Phocians. 45 Diod. Sic. 16.35.5: πολὺς ἐγένετο φόνος τῶν Φωκέων. Cf. Just. Epit. 8.2.4: poenasque uiolatae religionis sanguine et caedibus suis pendunt (“they paid the penalty for their sacrilege with blood and slaughter”) and Dem. 19.319. 46 Pausanias (10.2.5) claims Onomarchus was cut down by his own troops, whereas Philo (apud Euseb. Praep. evang. 8.14.33) states that he was carried out to sea by his runaway horse. These variant versions of his death are intrinsically improbable; see Buckler (1989) 76; Pownall (1998) 46 n. 41. 47 Diod. Sic. 16.35.6: τοὺς δ᾿ ἄλλους ὡς ἱεροσύλους κατεπόντισεν. It is not clear whether Diodorus’ “the rest” (τοὺς ἄλλους) refers to the corpses or the captives. Although the communis opinio

Philip ’ s Grand Strategy

25

crisis du jour in an ad hoc manner with various diplomatic initiatives, bribery, and deception (all of which were necessarily short-term). It was not lost on Philip that the decisive factor in the Battle of the Crocus Field had been the Thessalian cavalry. Furthermore, it was only with the incorporation of the Thessalian army (Diod. Sic. 16.35.4) that he was able to achieve numerical parity with the Phocian troops and thereby avoid the devastating results of the previous year. The battle effectively resulted in Philip’s domination of Thessaly, apart from Pherae, which was now isolated after Onomarchus’ defeat. Lycophron, who had survived the battle, surrendered Pherae to Philip on condition of safe conduct for himself and his fellow tyrant Peitholaus along with 2,000 mercenaries (Diod. Sic. 16.37.37.3; cf. 38.1). Philip proceeded to consolidate his control of Thessaly,48 regularizing his position as hegemon in a more permanent, legitimate, and official way with his election as the archon of the Thessalian koinon.49 Even more importantly, perhaps, the Battle of the Crocus Field marks the point at which Philip appears to have recognized the extent to which he could capitalize on the symbolic and religious value of his defeat of the sacrilegious Phocians. In the battle and its aftermath, Philip deliberately and ostentatiously highlighted his self-proclaimed role as the defender of Apollo. With his conquest of Thessaly now complete, Philip’s intervention in the Sacred War offered him a legitimate entrance into the mainstream of Greek political and military affairs.50 It is telling that in the aftermath of the battle, Philip was not content with simply completing his conquest of Thessaly, but attempted to extend his influence further south, advancing with his troops to Thermopylae, the gateway to central Greece. Although Philip was not immediately successful, for his passage through the pass was blocked by the Phocian army with Athenian support (Diod. Sic. 16.38.1–2; Just. Epit. 8.2.8; Dem. 4.17; 18.32; 19.84 and 318–319), pragmatic as always, he simply awaited a more favorable opportunity to capitalize on his newfound role as Apollo’s avenger.51 In 346, in response to a

48 49

50 51

holds that Philip drowned the 3,000 captives, Griffith (HM2) 276–77 is probably correct that it is only the corpses that were thrown into the sea; cf. Pownall (1998) 46 n. 41. Cf. Diod. Sic. 16.38.1 with Buckler (1979) 79–80; Worthington (2008) 64–66. Just. Epit. 11.3.2; Dem. 1.21–22 with Griffifth (HM2) 220–24; Buckler (1989) 80; Worthington (2008) 68. For skepticism that Philip was formally elected archon of the Thessalian League, see Sprawski (2003), who does concede (64) that he held a special position in Thessaly, acquired legally, which offered him control of the Thessaly army and the right to their customs and revenues. Cf. Buckler (1989) 78; Worthington (2008) 61–62. Thus, Philip’s refusal to force his way through the pass at Thermopylae should be attributed to strategy, rather than to any putative lack of interest in intervening in central Greece; cf. Buckler (1996) 82–83; Pownall (1998) 47 n. 43.

26

Pownall

Boeotian appeal for military assistance and alliance (Diod. Sic. 16.58.2 and 59.2; cf. Dem. 18.19), Philip marched south once again. As it turned out, however, he did not have to take on the Phocian army, for the current Phocian commander, seeing the writing on the wall, handed over the control of the pass to Philip in exchange for safe conduct (Diod. Sic. 16.59.2–3). This unexpected development forced the Phocians to surrender to him unconditionally, allowing Philip to bring a decisive end to the Sacred War without a battle (Diod. Sic. 16.59.3–4). With his settlement of the Sacred War in 346, it seemed that Philip had achieved his political and military goals. Philip’s reduction of Olynthus and dissolution of the Chalcidian League in 348 had deprived the Athenians of their only potential ally in the north against Macedonia.52 By early 346, the Athenians were left with no alternative but to accept Philip’s terms for peace, and after extensive negotiations they signed the Peace of Philocrates later that year, in which they formally renounced their claim to Amphipolis and recognized Philip’s conquest of the Macedonian coast,53 leaving him free to expand eastward against Thrace. In the meantime, Philip settled matters in Phocis to his own satisfaction. The Phocians’ membership in the Delphic Amphictyony was revoked and their two votes were given to Philip, along with the presidency over the panhellenic Pythian Games.54 By virtue of his own two votes and his influence over Thessaly and Boeotia, Philip now effectively controlled the Delphic Amphictyony, through which he evidently hoped to derive in-built religious authority through which he could regulate the political and military affairs of the wider Greek world.55 3

The Battle of Chaeronea

Nevertheless, Philip’s control over the Delphic Amphictyony as the result of the Battle of the Crocus Field did not result in the same kind of immediate military advantage for him that his leadership of the Thessalian koinon offered;56 it is possible that he overestimated the degree to which leadership even of a prestigious panhellenic religious organization could provide traction for the extension of his power into central and southern Greece.57 Furthermore, 52 On Philip’s destruction of Olynthus, see Griffith (HM2) 315–28; Psoma (2011) 133–35. 53 On the Peace of Philocrates, see Worthington (2008) 89–104; Anson (2020) 128–35. 54 Diod. Sic. 16.60.1–4; Dem. 5.19 and 22; Dem. 9.32; Paus. 10.3.3 and 10.8.2; for a detailed analysis of the terms of the Amphictyonic Peace of 346, see Sánchez (2001) 203–13. 55 Cf. Mari (2002) 122–26. 56 Cf. Bowden (2017) 172–73. 57 Londey (1994) 32–33.

Philip ’ s Grand Strategy

27

by now the Athenians regretted their concessions to Philip in the Peace of Philocrates (not least due to the anti-Macedonia agitation of Demosthenes), and they embarked upon a series of aggressive actions in the north, ultimately resulting in the renewal of war between Philip and Athens in 340 and ongoing conflict in the Chersonese and Black Sea regions.58 At the same time, Philip was once again faced with having to secure his borders. Unsure of the loyalty of Arybbas, Philip deposed him from the Epirote throne, replacing him with Olympias’ brother Alexander.59 He also annexed Thrace (Diod. Sic. 16.71.1–2), which had been a continual thorn in his side, and began to campaign against the Scythians.60 In the meantime, Philip continued to attempt to gain influence among the Greek cities through diplomacy,61 still achieving only minor and temporary success.62 Even though Philip’s leadership of the Delphic Amphictyony did not result in tangible benefits in terms of achieving his immediate goals, it did alert him to the potential of exercising religious and ideological authority, which would serve his long-term strategy better than his diplomatic efforts. He was correct. As it turned out, a few years later Philip’s new role as Apollo’s champion set into motion the chain of events that resulted in his conquest of Greece. While Philip was occupied with the northeastern frontiers of his realm, a new conflict involving the Delphic Amphictyony broke out, the so-called Fourth Sacred War.63 As in the Third Sacred War, Philip played no role in the outbreak of the conflict, but fully exploited the opportunity that his intervention afforded him.64 At the regular meeting of the Delphic Amphictyony in 340/39, the orator Aeschines deflected a fine of fifty talents proposed against Athens by the Locrians of Amphissa (instigated by the Thebans) by dramatically demonstrating that the Amphissians themselves were guilty of cultivating sacred land (Aeschin. 3.116–22). But when the Amphissians failed to make the reparations imposed upon them after the first Amphictyonic campaign (under the command of the Pharsalian Cottylus), Philip (who at that time was on campaign 58 Buckler (1996) 87–91; Müller (2010) 176; Psoma (2014) 132–33. 59 Dem. 7.32; Diod. Sic. 16.72.1 (who mistakenly says that Arybbas died); Just. Epit. 7.6.12 and 8.6.4–8; RO no. 70. 60 On the Scythian campaign, see Worthington (2008) 138–40. 61 Aetolia: Dem. 9.34; Strabo 9.4.7; Theopompus BNJ 115 F 235; Peloponnese: Dem. 19.260–61. 62 Cf. Ryder (1994) 250–53; Anson (2020) 135–36. 63 This is the modern name given to a conflict known to its contemporaries as “the War in Amphissa.” Unlike the Third Sacred War, it was never called a “sacred war” in antiquity, likely to due to Philip’s less honorable role; cf. Pownall (1998) esp. 53–54. 64 Londey (1994).

28

Pownall

in Scythia) was invited to intervene (Aeschin. 23.129; Dem. 18.151). Although clearly, he had not foreseen the sudden outbreak of another Amphictyonic conflict, the upshot of which was to drive a wedge between two of his strongest allies, the Thebans and the Thessalians, Philip quickly seized the opportunity to command an Amphictyonic army in central Greece against a new set of sacrilegious offenders. This time, however, he did not make the same mistake of failing to capitalize militarily on his intervention. Heading south with his army, Philip made as if to head to Amphissa, but suddenly switched directions and instead occupied Elatea, which was strategically located on the border between Phocis and Boeotia (Aeschin. 3.140; Dem. 18.153; Philochorus BNJ 328 F 56; Diod. Sic. 16.84.2; Plut. Dem. 18.1). The sudden arrival of Philip and his army on the borders of Boeotia sparked fears in Athens that he was poised to invade Attica,65 and frightened the Thebans into abandoning their alliance with Philip and accepting Demosthenes’ proposal to join their inveterate enemy Athens in the coalition of Greek allies (Dem. 18.237; Plut. Dem. 17.5).66 During the winter of 339/8, joint Athenian-Boeotian forces attempted to block Philip’s passage east by garrisoning the pass controlling the route to Amphissa and the stronghold at Parapotamii on the border between Phocis and Boeotia.67 But the following spring Philip had seized the former by deception and the latter by circumvention (Polyaenus Strat. 4.2.8 and 14; Aeschin. 3.146; Din. 1.74), settling the latest Amphictyonic war almost incidentally and forcing the allies to retreat to Boeotia, where they took up a defensive position in the plain of Chaeronea. The ensuing battle took place in August of 338. Despite the decisive nature of the battle and its symbolic role in Demosthenic rhetoric as the death-knell of Greek liberty, the sources are remarkably uninformative on precisely how Philip’s victory unfolded.68 Although he may have been slightly outnumbered (Just. Epit. 9.3.9; but cf. Diod. Sic. 16.85.7), Philip seized the initiative. Philip himself commanded the right wing against the Athenians, and staged a feigned retreat to higher ground, easily overwhelming his more inexperienced opponents when their ranks lost cohesion (Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.2 and 7; Frontin. Str. 2.1.9). In the meantime, his 18-year-old son 65

On the panicked reaction to this news in Athens, see the famous passage in Demosthenes’ On the Crown (Dem. 18.169–72). 66 A recently discovered fragment of Hypereides’ Against Diondas, however, suggests that it was the presence of the Athenian army, rather than Demosthenes’ powers of persuasion, that convinced the Thebans to join the Greek alliance against Philip; cf. Guth (2014). 67 Griffith (HM2) 589–94; Worthington (2008) 145–47. 68 Diodorus (16.86) offers the only narrative account of the battle (cf. Just. Epit. 9.3.9–11), although there are scattered references in other authors. See also Griffith (HM2), 596–603; Worthington (2008) 147–51; Anson (2020) 68–71; Heinrichs (2020).

Philip ’ s Grand Strategy

29

Alexander, stationed on the left wing, broke through the Boeotian line, and annihilated their crack troops, the Sacred Band (Plut. Alex. 9.2; cf. Pel. 18.5). The battle was an overwhelming military victory for Philip, but the campaign had occupied the best part of a year, and his own losses were not negligible (Diod. Sic. 16.86.2). Furthermore, it represented a failure of his diplomacy as so many Greek poleis were ranged against him, including some of his own former allies, most conspicuously the Thebans who overturned their alliance with Philip in favor of siding with their ancestral enemies.69 In order to gain the acquiescence of the Greeks to the unpalatable reality of Macedonian hegemony, he needed a new and more effective strategy. 4

Philip’s Final Strategy: Panhellenism and the League of Corinth

It is telling that Philip’s first known action after his settlement with individual poleis in the aftermath of the Battle of Chaeronea was to announce his intention of launching a campaign against the Persians in revenge for their fifth-century invasion of Greece, summoning the Greeks (apart from Sparta, which remained hostile and isolated) to a general congress (koinon synedrion) at Corinth in the spring of 337 (Diod. Sic. 16.89.1–2). The choice of Corinth as the meeting place was quite deliberate, for as the site where the Greek poleis who were determined to resist Xerxes’ imminent invasion gathered in 481 (Hdt. 7.172.1 and 175.1) it evoked memories of the Persian Wars, which played a crucial role in the formation of a panhellenic identity.70 At the congress in Corinth, Philip formally established a new organization, known in modern scholarship as the League of Corinth, in which the Greek poleis, allied together by a common peace (koine eirene), were to campaign against Persia under his hegemonial leadership and to free the Greeks of Asia Minor.71 The creation of the League of Corinth represents the culmination of Philip’s grand strategy. Recognizing the religious and panhellenic value of his leadership of the Delphic Amphictyony, he adapted some of its organizational structures to the League of Corinth.72 But now under no illusions that the Delphic Amphictyony could work alone as a means of unifying the Greeks under his control, he carefully founded a new organization that would serve 69 On the limited success of Philip’s diplomacy, cf. Ryder (1994) 242–43. 70 See, e.g., Hall (2002); Mitchell (2007). 71 Diod. Sic. 16.89.3 and 91.2; Just. Epit. 9.5.1–5; Plut. Phoc. 16.4; Arr. Anab. 1.1.2; Polyb. 9.33.7–8; RO no. 77. 72 So Londey (1994) 33–34.

30

Pownall

that purpose more effectively. One crucial difference of course was his own permanent hegemonial status.73 But the main stroke of brilliance in Philip’s securing of the co-operation of the Greeks was his invocation of panhellenic rhetoric to stir them up against their archetypal foreign enemy, the Persians, who also just happened to be in the path of his own further expansion east.74 Not only did he tap into the memory of the Persian Wars, which still remained a pervasive and potent source of civic pride and patriotism (and had often been used by the Greek poleis themselves to justify their own imperialistic behavior in the past), but Philip invented a new truly panhellenic narrative of the Persian War tradition, one that unified and transcended the competing narratives of the individual Greek poleis that glorified their own contributions in warding off the foreign invaders.75 Despite its veneer of panhellenic symbolism, however, the League of Corinth solely operated as an instrument of Macedonian hegemony.76 At the beginning of his reign, faced with serious external and internal threats, Philip was preoccupied with the stability of his kingdom. His early strategy was necessarily simple, designed to ensure the safety of his borders and eliminate challengers to his throne. Although this strategy was effective in the short term, it offered limited returns when Philip began to set his sights beyond the borders of Macedonia. As I have argued, Philip’s spectacular success in two decisive battles caused him to pivot strategically. In the aftermath of the Battle of the Crocus Field, Philip fully understood the advantage of exercising broader political and military leadership as the archon of the Thessalian koinon. Perhaps even more importantly, he was beginning to become aware of the potential of religious propaganda to further his long-range ambitions when he translated his role in the battle as the champion of Apollo into leadership of the Delphic Amphictyony. Although his control of the Delphic Amphictyony did not immediately result in his mastery of central Greece, it did legitimize his passage south with his army in 339, leading inexorably to a battle that he never wanted against the Greek coalition at Chaeronea. The Battle of Chaeronea revealed to Philip the failure of his trademark diplomacy and inspired him to develop a new strategy, focusing on ideology, to achieve the unity of the Greeks (no small feat) and force them to accept his hegemonial authority. The 73 Cf. Anson (2020) 146. 74 On Philip’s use of the vengeance theme as a “consensus strategy,” see Squillace (2010) 76–80; on the panhellenic policy of Philip and Alexander, see Flower (2000). 75 See the convincing arguments of Yates (2019) esp. 202–48, although I do not agree with his final conclusions that the policy was a failure. 76 Cf. Müller (2016) 267–69.

Philip ’ s Grand Strategy

31

creation of the League of Corinth was a brilliant move in which Philip appropriated the tradition of the Persian Wars (in which, it should perhaps be noted, the Macedonians fought on the Persian side), which served not only to legitimize his military and political dominance over Greece, but also allowed him to portray his planned expedition to Asia as a sacred mission against a sacrilegious foreign foe. Unfortunately, however, Philip was assassinated before he could cross the Hellespont with his army, leaving his son Alexander to benefit from the evolution of his strategy onto the ideological plain. Works Cited Anson, E. (2020) Philip II, the Father of Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues. London. Bowden, H. (2017) “The Argeads and Greek Sanctuaries,” in Müller et al. (2017) 163–82. Bosworth, A. B. and Baynham, E. J. (eds) (2000) Alexander the Great in Fact and Fiction. Oxford. Brice, L. L. (2015) “Military Unrest in the Age of Philip II and Alexander III of Macedon: Defining the Terms of Debate,” in Howe et al. (2015) 69–76. Buckler, J. (1989) Philip II and the Sacred War. Leiden. Buckler, J. (1996) “Philip II’s Designs on Greece,” in Wallace and Harris (1996) 77–97. Carney, E. D. (1996/2015) “Macedonians and Mutiny: Discipline and Indiscipline in the Army of Philip and Alexander.” CPh 91: 19–44; republished with afterword in Carney (2015) 27–59. Carney, E. D. (2000) Women and Monarchy in Macedonia. Norman, OK. Carney, E. D. (2015) King and Court in Ancient Macedonia: Rivalry, Treason and Conspiracy. Swansea. Carney, E. and Ogden, D. (eds) (2010) Philip II and Alexander the Great: Father and Son, Lives and Afterlives. Oxford. Ellis, J. R. (1976) Philip II and Macedonian Imperialism. Princeton. Ferrill, A. (1991a) Roman Imperial Grand Strategy. Lanham, MD. Ferrill, A. (1991b) “The Grand Strategy of the Roman Empire,” in Kennedy (1991b) 71–85. Flower, M. (2000) “Alexander the Great and Panhellenism,” in Bosworth and Baynham (2000) 96–135. Franchi, E. (2015) “The Phocian Desperation and the ‘Third’ Sacred War.” ὅρμος—Ricerche di Storia Antica 7: 49–71. Gambash, G. (2013) “Caesarea Maritima and the Grand Strategy of the Roman Empire.” Skyllis 13: 53–58. Graninger, D. (2010) “Macedonia and Thessaly,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 306–25.

32

Pownall

Guth, D. (2014) “Rhetoric and Historical Narrative: The Theban-Athenian Alliance of 339 BCE.” Historia 63: 151–65. Hall, J. M. (2002) Hellenicity: Between Ethnicity and Culture. Chicago. Hatzopoulos, M. B. (2020) Ancient Macedonia. Berlin. Heckel, J. (1996) “Philip and Argaios: A Pretender’s Story,” in Wallace and Harris (1996) 37–56. Heckel, W. (2021) Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander the Great and his Successors: From Chaeroneia to Ipsos (338–301 B.C.). Barnsley, UK. Heinrichs, J. (2020) “Chaironeia, battle of,” in LAM: 154–56. Heinrichs, J. and Müller, S. (2020) “Amphipolis,” in LAM: 75–80. Howe, T., Garvin, E. E., and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2015) Greece, Macedon and Persia: Studies in Social, Political and Military History in Honour of Waldemar Heckel. Oxford. Isaac, B. (1990) The Limits of Empire: The Roman Army in the East. Oxford. Kagan, K. (2006) “Redefining Roman Grand Strategy.” The Journal of Military History 70: 333–62. Kennedy, P. (1991a) “Grand Strategy in War and Peace: Toward a Broader Definition,” in Kennedy (1991b) 1–7. Kennedy, P. (ed) (1991b) Grand Strategies in War and Peace. New Haven, CT. Lacey, J. (2022) Rome: Strategy of Empire. Oxford. Lane Fox, R. J. (ed) (2011) Brill’s Companion to Ancient Macedon: Studies in the Archaeo­ logy and History of Macedon, 650 BC–300 AD. Leiden. Londey, P. (1994) “Philip II and the Delphic Amphiktyony.” MedArch 7: 25–34. Lonsdale, D. J. (2007) Alexander the Great: Lessons in Strategy. London. Luttwak, E. N. (1976) The Grand Strategy of the Roman Empire: From the First Century A.D. to the Third. Baltimore, MD. Luttwak, E. N. (2009) The Grand Strategy of the Byzantine Empire. Cambridge, MA. Mari, M. (2002) Al di là dell’ Olimpo: Macedoni e grandi santuari della Grecia dall’ età arcaica al primo ellenismo. Athens. Martin, T. R. (1982) “A Phantom Fragment of Theopompus and Philip II’s First Campaign in Thessaly.” HSPh 86: 55–78. Millar, F. (1982) “Emperors, Frontiers and Foreign Relations, 31 B. C. to A. D. 378.” Britannia 13: 1–23. Mitchell, L. G. (2007) Panhellenism and the Barbarian in Archaic and Classical Greece. Swansea. Müller, S. (2010) “Philip II,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010), 166–85. Müller, S. (2016) Die Argeaden: Geschichte Makedoniens bis zum Zeitalter Alexanders des Großen. Paderborn. Müller, S., Howe, T., Bowden, H., and Rollinger, R. (eds) (2017) History of the Argeads: New Perspectives. Wiesbaden.

Philip ’ s Grand Strategy

33

Musial, D. (ed) (2005) Society and Religions: Studies in Greek and Roman History. Toruń. Naiden, F. S. (2019) “War Aims of Alexander the Great,” in Naiden and Raisbeck (2019) 57–79. Naiden, F. S. and Raisbeck, D. (eds) (2019) Reflections on Macedonian and Roman Grand Strategy. Bogotá. Ogden, D. (2023) Polygamy, Prostitutes and Death: The Hellenistic Dynasties. 2nd ed. Swansea. Pal, S. (2020) “Aleuads,” in LAM: 48–50. Pownall, F. (1998) “What Makes a War a Sacred War?” EMC 17: 35–55. Pownall, F. (2020a) “Delphic Amphiktyony,” in LAM: 192–95. Pownall, F. (2020b) “Third Sacred War,” in LAM: 494–97. Psoma, S. (2011) “The Kingdom of Macedonia and the Chalcidic League,” in Lane Fox (2011) 113–35. Psoma, S. (2014) “Athens and the Macedonian Kingdom from Perdikkas II to Philip II.” REA 116: 133–44. Rahe, P. A. (2016) The Spartan Regime: Its Character, Origins, and Grand Strategy. New Haven, CT. Rahe, P. A. (2017) The Grand Strategy of Classical Sparta: The Persian Challenge. New Haven, CT. Rahe, P. A. (2019) Sparta’s First Attic War: The Grand Strategy of Classical Sparta, 478–446 B.C. New Haven, CT. Rahe, P. A. (2020) Sparta’s Second Attic War: The Grand Strategy of Classical Sparta, 446–418 B.C. New Haven, CT. Roisman, J. (2015) “Opposition to Macedonian Kings: Rewards for Riots and Verbal Protests,” in Howe et al. (2015) 77–86. Roisman, J. and Worthington, I. (eds) (2010) A Companion to Ancient Macedonia. Malden, MA. Ryder, T. T. B. (1994) “The Diplomatic Skills of Philip II,” in Worthington (1994) 228–57. Sánchez, P. (2001) L’Amphictionie des Pyles et de Delphes. Stuttgart. Sprawski, S. (2003) “Philip II and the Freedom of the Thessalians.” Electrum 9: 55–66. Sprawski, S. (2005) “All the King’s Men: Thessalians and Philip II’s Designs on Greece,” in Musial (2005) 31–49. Sprawski, S. (2020) “Thessaly,” in LAM: 489–94. Squillace, G. (2010) “Consensus Strategies under Philip and Alexander: The Revenge Theme,” in Carney and Ogden (2010) 69–80. Tronson, A. (1984) “Satyrus the Peripatetic and the Marriages of Philip II.” JHS 104: 116–26. Wallace, R. W. and Harris, E. M. (eds) (1996) Transitions to Empire: Essays in GrecoRoman History 360–146 B.C, in honor of E. Badian. Norman, OK.

34

Pownall

Wheeler, E. L. (1993) “Methodological Limits and the Mirage of Roman Strategy: Parts I and II.” The Journal of Military History 57: 7–41 and 215–40. Whittaker, C. R. (2004) Rome and its Frontiers: The Dynamics of Empire. London. Worthington, I. (ed) (1994) Ventures into Greek History. Oxford. Worthington, I. (2008) Philip II of Macedonia. New Haven, CT. Yates, D. C. (2019) States of Memory: The Polis, Panhellenism, and the Persian War. Oxford.

Chapter 2

Alexander’s Battles Matthew A. Sears 1

Introduction

There were many things that made Alexander “great.” To name a few: his forces’ mastery of logistics to keep the army fed and supplied deep into hostile territory; his becoming all things to all people in order to rule Greeks, Macedonians, Persians, Egyptians, and many others in the various styles to which his subjects were accustomed; his manipulation of image and propaganda to craft his own legacy, even his posthumous legacy, to a remarkable degree. Arguably, it was on the battlefield that Alexander shone the brightest. At any rate, Alexander’s battles and their tactics are what students of Alexander, from antiquity to the present day, have found most exciting and, in many cases, most worthy of emulation.1 Many elements, indeed the vast majority, of Alexander’s campaign and rule were at a remove from the battlefield. Even the combat in which his forces engaged took many forms, from speedy forced marches of select detachments, to the total war and terror deployed in attempts to pacify recalcitrant regions. The diverse elements of Alexander’s conquests, what we might call the “war and society” considerations of Greco-Macedonian expansion, are well covered by the present volume. This chapter will consider only pitched battle, the decisive set pieces that punctuated Alexander’s campaign in Asia. The four battles that fit the bill are the Granicus River (334), Issus (333), Gaugamela (331), and the Hydaspes River (326).2 Despite how all-encompassing war really is—a fact increasingly acknowledged and emphasized among ancient historians—pitched battles really were in many instances decisive, and occupied the minds of ancient leaders far more than their relative brevity and infrequency would suggest. As we investigate Alexander’s battles, particularly from a tactical standpoint, we will also ask why battles were so important, or at least perceived as such, for the Macedonian king and those with whom and against whom he fought.

1 The military theorist J. F. C. Fuller’s work on Alexander’s generalship (1960) is representative. 2 All dates in this chapter are BCE unless indicated otherwise.

© Matthew A. Sears, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_004

36 2

Sears

Why Are Battles Decisive?

We should first clarify what counts as a battle, particularly a decisive battle. The answer may not be as obvious as it seems. For example, A. M. Devine has argued that the Battle of the Granicus River, and also perhaps the Battle of the Hydaspes River, were “relatively peripheral” engagements, even though they tend to be grouped with the much more momentous battles at Issus and Gaugamela as part of “the dogma of ‘the four great battles of Alexander.’”3 Devine has a point. Issus and Gaugamela were both showdowns between the king of Macedonia and the King of Persia leading their respective armies in person. The stakes of those battles were the Persian Empire itself, the ostensible objective for which Alexander had launched his campaign. The Granicus involved merely the local Persian satraps and their relatively modest forces, while at the Hydaspes all that was at issue was whether Alexander would push his already unprecedented conquests a little further. Other clashes of arms, sieges, and assaults were likely on a scale comparable to the battles of the Granicus and Hydaspes. If we do not count those other engagements among the canonical great battles, then perhaps we should strike the Granicus and Hydaspes from the list—just as Pluto was struck from the ledger of planets.4 Allowing for the possibility that the definition of a decisive battle might involve a degree of artificiality on the part of historians, ancient and modern, for the purposes of this chapter, let us consider as decisive battles those that exhibit the following three traits: 1. A concerted military engagement that lasts for a short period, such as a single afternoon. This would eliminate longer campaigns such as sieges or systematic territorial raiding. 2. Alexander commanding in person. Since this is a chapter on Alexander’s battles, Alexander should be at the battle. Also, since Alexander’s personal presence was perhaps the most important element of his military command and leadership, this criterion is by no means arbitrary. 3. The result of the engagement must be an immediate and widespread change in the broader strategic situation. Afghanistan took months and a multitude of violent measures to pacify.5 Alexander could 3 Devine (1986). 4 Devine (1986, 265) offers the example of Alexander’s victory at Pelion in 325. We could also add any number of sieges, since the land and sea engagements at Tyre, for example, were every bit as much of a concentrated clash of arms as took place at the Granicus, not to mention a variety of skirmishes in central Asia and elsewhere along his route. 5 Holt (2005) is a valuable study of Alexander’s lengthy and brutal campaigns in central Asia, with particular reference to the military experiences of modern empires (particularly Soviet and American) in that region. If one were interested in warfare beyond the battlefield, Alexander’s “Afghan Campaign” would be a good place to start.

Alexander ’ s Battles

37

have continued on his way to Egypt even had Tyre not fallen. Porus, king of many thousands in India, however, was made a vassal of Alexander after the Hydaspes, and virtually all of Asia Minor lay open for the Macedonian army following the Granicus.6 Only the four battles listed at the outset of this chapter meet all three criteria, so they are the ones we will study here.7 We must next ask why anyone would fight a decisive battle. One of the most successful commanders in Roman History was a leader in the Middle Republic named Quintus Fabius Maximus, given the nickname “Cunctator,” or “the Delayer.”8 His fame is extraordinary because he is the only military commander from Greco-Roman antiquity famous for not fighting battles. Instead, he “delayed” and harried his opponent—the brilliant Carthaginian commander Hannibal—in an effort to wear him down without risking the lives of Roman soldiers and hazarding the fate of the Republic on a single pitched battle. Hannibal had already humiliated Roman armies in Italy at Trebia and Trasimene, so in 217 the Senate appointed Fabius Maximus to the emergency office of dictator in an attempt to staunch the blood flow. The infamously aggressive Romans, however, quickly grew impatient with the Fabian tactics of attacking Hannibal’s supply lines and fighting in only limited engagements. Fabius Maximus was replaced by the consuls Varro and Paullus. The new consuls gratified the Romans by engaging Hannibal in open battle at Cannae in 216, one of the bloodiest battles ever fought and a singularly one-sided defeat of the Roman forces. Cannae proved Fabius Maximus right, and shone a spotlight on the pitfalls of pitched battle. The campaigns of Fabius Maximus are remarkable because they are unusual in a Greco-Roman context. Greek and Roman leaders tend to acquire fame 6 For the extent to which India and Bactria actually fell under the sway of Alexander and the Greco-Macedonians after the Hydaspes (with an emphasis on culture), see Wallace (2016). 7 There is now a substantial scholarly literature on whether battles are decisive events at all. Victor Davis Hanson certainly thought so, and advanced the thesis that the decisive battle was a distinctively “Western” trait in books with titles like The Western Way of War (2009) and Carnage and Culture: Landmark Battles in the Rise to Western Power (2002). Hanson sticks to well-trodden ground. For engaging critiques of the fascination with battles and the military “geniuses” who fight them, see Harari (2007) and especially Nolan (2017) who argues that in the modern era, attrition is what really decides wars, even those wars supposedly settled by set-piece clashes of arms. See especially the chapter on “Battle in History” (18–37) in which Nolan rightly argues that even the decisive battles of antiquity were only seen as decisive by certain parties vying for a propaganda victory over their rivals (such as the Athenians over the Spartans by emphasizing Marathon, which was of course not particularly decisive). Nolan contends (20) that even Gaugamela was only part of a much longer and varied campaign that included sieges, marches, and the like. Fortunately, the breadth of the topics covered by the present volume fill out the picture of Alexander’s conquests nicely. 8 For Fabius Maximus, see Roller (2011), with further bibliography.

38

Sears

and power by winning battles, not avoiding them. This need not have been the case, and the desire for battle did not necessarily characterize the peoples with whom and against whom the Greeks and Romans fought (nor does it characterize the Greeks and Romans as much as the ancient and modern fixation on battle would suggest).9 Victor Davis Hanson distorts things to the point of falsehood by calling pitched battle the “Western way of war,” but he does point to the important fact that battles were avoided perhaps more often than they were fought, including by (but certainly not limited to) the supposed enemies of the “West” such as the Achaemenid Persian Empire.10 J. F. Lazenby has persuasively argued that the Battle of Plataea, the decisive engagement that drove the Persian invasion force from Greece in 479, took place despite the Persian commander Mardonius’ fervent desire to avoid battle.11 While Greek sources such as Herodotus have a vested interest in portraying Mardonius as driven by anger and impetuosity, stereotypically “Eastern” traits, the commander’s actual actions during his campaign seem more Fabian than Hannibalic. The Achaemenid Persian approach to warfare more often than not involved overwhelming opponents to such a degree that no battle was needed.12 Let us consider one of the most (in)famous of Persian weapons, the scythed chariot.13 Chariots thundering across an open plain would have been terrifying in any circumstance but adding blades to the wheel hubs brought the terror to another level. Yet, in the Greek sources from which we learn about these chariots in action, the weapon was almost comically ineffective. At the Battle of Cunaxa in 401, where the Ten Thousand Greek mercenaries under Clearchus fought to put Cyrus the Younger on the throne of Persia, the Greek hoplites simply made gaps in their line through which the scythed chariots of Artaxerxes II passed harmlessly—though not harmlessly for the chariot drivers, whom the Greeks easily killed (Xen. An. 1.8.20). Scythed chariots were similarly useless against Alexander’s army at Gaugamela. Scythed chariots, soldiers wearing elaborate jewelry to show contempt for their enemies, sheer numbers of soldiers decked out in the garb of dozens of nations under the sway of the King; all of this seems designed to overawe an 9

For a recent collection of essays on the range of Greek military activities aside from pitched battle, see Konijnendijk, Kucewicz, and Lloyd (2021). 10 Hanson (2009) esp. 9–18. 11 Lazenby (1993) 218–19. See Sears (2009) for the lengths to which Mardonius went to defeat the Greeks diplomatically instead of on the battlefield. For a stimulating discussion of whether Greeks and Persians really wanted to fight an open battle during Xerxes’ invasion of Greece, an issue very much obscured by Herodotus’ rhetoric, see Konijnendijk (2016). 12 For general treatments of the Achaemenid Persian army, see Sekunda (1982); Head (1992). 13 For scythed chariots, see Rop (2013); Nefedkin (2014).

Alexander ’ s Battles

39

opponent to the point of surrender before shooting a single arrow. As Darius’ fate demonstrates, risking a battle could mean risking it all, the forfeit of a two-century-old empire in a single afternoon. So why fight a pitched battle at all, unless virtually guaranteed an easy victory? Whether we should understand them merely as literary tropes like the “wise advisers” in Herodotus, various figures advise Darius III against taking on Alexander directly and hazarding the empire on a single engagement.14 Instead, they suggest that he elude the Macedonian king and lay waste the land to deprive the enemy of vital supplies, essentially the path later taken by Fabius Maximus. Darius did personally meet Alexander’s challenge, twice. Even if we can never know exactly what was said in the innermost councils of the Persian King, Darius’ purported reasons for fighting tell us a lot about the purpose and importance of battles in antiquity. In the account of Curtius, prior to the Battle of Issus Darius’ Greek mercenaries urged the King to withdraw rather than fight, or at the very least divide his forces in order to prevent losing everything in a single action. The members of Darius’ court considered the Greeks perfidious and counseled their immediate execution. Darius, however, thought the Greeks’ advice was genuine, even if he did not agree with it. Instead, he answered his Greek mercenaries that success in war depends on a leader’s reputation, and withdrawing would look like a defeat and remove all his legitimacy. Besides, he could not countenance the land and its people being ravaged any more by the Macedonians. Instead, he would fight, and would fight with his whole force, as was Persian custom (Curt. 3.8.1–11). Darius takes the position that war is often a contest of nerves, both of the leaders and of those following them. A king would not last long if his subjects saw him fleeing before his enemies, especially while his subjects’ land was ruined. The Persian King might not lead from the front like Alexander did, but his charismatic presence at the battle was vital nonetheless. Charismatic personal leadership, in other words, necessitated decisive battles.15

14

For the “wise adviser,” see the classic study of Lattimore (1939). See also Rop (2019) 9–18 for the wise advisor in the context of the Greeks fighting in the Near East, namely as a literary device by which Greek authors overstate the superiority of Greek soldiers and commanders compared to their counterparts in Persia and elsewhere. 15 Xerxes’ personal presence at the battles of 480, even if not in a combat role, demonstrates the importance Persian kings attached to charismatic military leadership. For a detailed discussion of the Achaemenid ideas of war and kingship, and their possible influence on Hellenistic kings after Alexander, see Tuplin (2014). The Macedonian view of kings in battle should be obvious to readers of this volume.

40

Sears

3

The Battle of the Granicus River (334)

Map 2.1

The Battle of Granicus. From Kromayer and Veith (1926), public domain Note: All battle plans are taken from Kromayer and Veith (1926), which, although nearly a century old, has rarely been rivalled by more recent battle plans and atlases. Aside from a few minor points here and there, they largely have the general actions of these battles correct.

Many of the hallmarks of Alexander’s battlefield tactics are revealed at the Battle of the Granicus River, the first pitched battle of the Macedonian king’s campaign in Asia.16 After crossing the Hellespont into Asia without opposition, and paying his respects at Troy, Alexander moved his forces to the Granicus River in what is now northwestern Turkey, where an army led by Darius’ satraps awaited him. Depending on which source tradition one follows—the Granicus is more plagued with source problems than the other three battles we will consider—Alexander demonstrated the following principles of his style of battle, to which he would adhere, more or less, in the subsequent engagements: 1. Alexander leads the attacking force, while his opponent awaits his attack from a carefully chosen defensive position. In other words, Alexander always has the initiative. 2. Alexander delivers the decisive attack with the companion cavalry from the right wing, and leads the charge himself. Various

16

The main ancient sources are: Diod. Sic. 17.19–21; Plut. Alex. 16; Arr. Anab. 1.13–16.

Alexander ’ s Battles

41

preliminary maneuvers and feints can take place before the decisive blow lands.17 3. Alexander puts himself in great personal danger, thereby leading by example and inspiring his troops, but also revealing the precarity of his rule and campaign. If Alexander fell during any of the several battles and operations in which he was wounded, the expedition to Asia would have been over in an instant, and the future of the Macedonian kingdom itself would have been under threat. Alexander embodies both the benefits and pitfalls of personal charismatic leadership on the battlefield.18 The majority of scholars follow the account of the battle offered in Arrian and supported by Plutarch, rather than the irreconcilably different account found in Diodorus.19 (The other major source for Alexander’s campaigns, Curtius, is missing the earlier portions of the work, including coverage of this battle.) According to Arrian, Alexander arrived at the Granicus late in the day to find the far bank occupied by the flower of the Persian cavalry. The river itself was wide enough to pose a dangerous obstacle for the Macedonians, and the far bank steep enough to afford the Persians a strong defensive position. Given the tactical situation, and the fatigue of the men who had marched through the day, Parmenion, Alexander’s most seasoned commander, advised against attack and suggested the forces rest for the night. Indeed, Diodorus says that the battle did not take place until the next morning, after Alexander had brought his army across the river and formed up for battle before the Persians had the chance to resist his crossing. In Arrian’s account, however, Alexander disagreed with Parmenion, and saw the advantage of attacking straightaway and unexpectedly, reckoning that an immediate victory would provide an invaluable propaganda boon.

17

For the effectiveness of Alexander’s cavalry charges, including against disciplined ranks of infantry (once thought impossible), see Sears and Willekes (2016). But see also Konijnendijk (2021), who argues that cavalry had always played a major role in Greek battle, even in the heyday of the hoplite phalanx. 18 A premature death for Alexander is among the favorite topics of counter-factual historians. See Ober (1999) for speculation on what would have happened had Alexander died at the Granicus. 19 For another view, see Pedersen (2015), who argues that Diodorus’ account makes the most sense, and the preferred version found in the other sources stems from Callisthenes, who exaggerated Alexander’s feat at the Granicus and in other battles to portray the Macedonian king as a Homeric hero. I have sympathy with Pedersen’s view that Diodorus and Curtius should be seen more frequently as an important alternative to Arrian, but I still find the battle as presented by Arrian to be more plausible. The propaganda effect of a bold charge across the river would have outweighed the tactical advantages of crossing at a safer point and later.

42

Sears

The numbers given by ancient sources for the sizes of armies are notoriously unreliable, which is often doubly true in the case of Alexander.20 Instead of the more than 100,000 soldiers credited to the Persian side, the two forces might have been evenly matched. In any case, the Persian satraps did not have the kind of overwhelming numerical superiority Darius had at Issus and Gaugamela. In addition to a sizeable cavalry force, the Persians had several thousand Greek mercenaries, probably the soldiers best equipped to deal with Alexander’s forces. Yet, for whatever reason, these mercenaries were kept in reserve behind the lines and did not take part in the main action of the battle. Instead, the Persians relied on their cavalry and the topographical superiority of their position. Alexander made use of the same basic battle line he would use in all of his major battles. He placed his phalanx in the center, allied heavy cavalry on the left wing, and himself with the Macedonian heavy cavalry on the right wing. Between the Macedonian cavalry and the phalanx was the elite infantry unit of the hypaspists, covering the potentially dangerous gap that was bound to form once Alexander made his charge. Also on the right wing at the Granicus was a squadron of Agrianians, a unit of Thracian infantry; a unit of cavalry called the sarissaphoroi, or sarissa-bearers (denoting, presumably, their long lances); the Paeonian heavy cavalry; and a unit of heavy cavalry under a commander named Socrates. The natural reading of Arrian would put Alexander on the extreme right, with these other units between him and the rest of the army. Alexander used these units as his sacrificial lamb, sending them across the river in advance of the rest of the Macedonians to engage the Persian cavalry and ideally force a gap in the Persian line.21 After an initial clash in which the advance Macedonian units fought bravely and suffered dearly, Alexander ordered a general engagement and charged across the river with his companions. Arrian says that Alexander made for the Persian commanders themselves and slammed into their formation. A fierce hand-to-hand struggle commenced around the Macedonian king, resplendent in his special armor, and the cavalry battle devolved into a shoving match as if the two sides were infantry rather 20

For a discussion of the numbers on both sides during Alexander’s campaigns, see Heckel (2008) 158–63, who argues that, at Issus, for example, the numbers of Persian troops could be “tenfold exaggerations.” See also Worthington (2014) 188–89, who says that in the case of Gaugamela, Darius’ supposedly 1,000,000 soldiers represent “absurdly high numbers to show how hopelessly outnumbered Alexander’s army was at 7,000 cavalry and 40,000 infantry.” 21 Devine (1988) calls this tactic a “pawn-sacrifice,” and argues that it was one of Alexander’s favorite maneuvers.

Alexander ’ s Battles

43

than on horseback. All the ancient sources are rife with heroic details about Alexander’s individual prowess and that of the Persian commanders he took on personally. The satrap Spithridates threatened Alexander with a potentially fatal blow, but had his arm cut off by Alexander’s companion Cleitus the Black before he could deliver the fatal blow. Alexander and his men dispatched other noble Persians with lance strikes aimed at the face. As more and more of the Macedonian army was able to cross the river, the Persian resistance crumbled and the battle became a rout. Alexander’s bold attack had been a success, the heavy lances of his horsemen and the toughness of his cavalry proving too much for the more lightly equipped Persian riders. The Greek mercenaries in the Persians’ service were struck out of their wits as they watched the battle unfold. Alexander ordered that they be surrounded. He vented his rage against those Greeks who still refused to rally behind his banner by massacring a majority of the 5,000 mercenaries, while taking captive 2,000 of them and sending them back to Macedonia to serve as hard-laborers.22 To call out the Spartans, the most prominent of the Greeks who rejected Macedonian leadership, Alexander sent 300 suits of Persian armor to be dedicated to Athena on the Acropolis of Athens with the following inscription: “Alexander, son of Philip, and the Greeks, except the Lacedaemonians, dedicate these spoils taken from the Persians who live in Asia.” There is no need to discount the versions of this battle found in Arrian and Plutarch on the grounds that Alexander’s attack was needlessly rash and tactically foolish given the Persians’ strong defensive position. Alexander knew that he had a stronger and better-equipped cavalry than the Persians, and the as-yet untested young king needed to secure a quick and clear victory in order to start his campaign on the right foot. Other Greeks, such as the Ten Thousand and the Spartan king Agesilaus, had invaded Persian territory without posing a serious danger to the Persian Empire as a whole. Darius would have had no reason to see Alexander as an existential threat in 334, and Alexander’s own allies would not have had much more reason than the Persian king would to see the Macedonian leader as the world-historical figure he became for posterity. Victory at the Granicus River, and the manner of that victory, opened all Asia Minor to the Macedonians and clarified the sort of military threat Alexander represented to the King.

22

For these mercenaries and their role in the battle, see McCoy (1989). For Greek mercenaries in the service of Darius III more generally, including at the battles of the Granicus River and Issus, see Rop (2019) 176–230.

44

Sears

4

The Battle of Issus (333)

Map 2.2

The Battle of Issus. From Kromayer and Veith (1926), public domain

At Issus, Darius III led his army in person, and brought along his entire retinue, including his closest female relatives.23 He also did not hold back in terms of the size of army he brought to the field. The Persian Empire’s forces were at Issus in all their splendor and unfathomable numbers. As with the Granicus, the ancient sources wildly exaggerate just how big Darius’ army was, ranging from 250,000–600,000. Even the low end of such numbers is not credible, but we can safely assume that the Persian army seriously outnumbered the Macedonian force by at least two or three to one. Not only had Darius fielded an impressive army, but he also had outmaneuvered his adversary during the pre-battle movements by arriving in Alexander’s rear and cutting off the Macedonian supply lines. The sources, as beholden to Alexander’s genius as they tend to be, make it seem as if the two forces had simply passed each other by accident, and that the Persians just happened to appear behind the Macedonians. It seems clear, however, that this was a win for Darius, and we should credit him with it.

23

The main ancient sources are: Diod. Sic. 17.32–39; Curt. 3.8–12; Plut. Alex. 20–21; Arr. Anab. 2.7–13.

Alexander ’ s Battles

45

On the other hand, the Persian king did not pick a suitable battlefield for his army. Greater numbers are at their most advantageous if given the space to operate; the coastal plain at Issus was too narrow for Darius to deploy his forces to maximum benefit. The sea on one side and rising hills on the other meant that Alexander did not have to worry too much about being surrounded or outflanked. Once he learned that Darius had appeared behind him and was waiting in relatively restricted terrain, Alexander turned his forces around, grateful for the chance to engage the Persian King himself in battle. The Macedonians marched to meet their enemy on the narrow plain along the route between Cilicia and Syria, at the most northeasterly corner of the Mediterranean Sea. As at the Granicus, the Persians awaited the Macedonians, trusting in a defensive position on the far bank of the Pinarus River. Unlike at the Granicus, this time Darius was going to make full use of his thousands of Greek mercenaries, equipped with the sort of heavy armament that stood the best chance against Alexander’s forces.24 The Greeks were placed on the right wing of the Persian infantry, directly across from the left wing of the Macedonian phalanx. To the right of the Greeks, against the sea, Darius stationed his best cavalry in the hopes that these units would be able to overwhelm the Macedonian left and thus outflank and roll up the Macedonian formation. While Darius took a place near the center of his line, surrounded by his most elite guards, he planned to send an infantry unit far to the left to seize the heights above the plain and move in behind the Macedonian right. Since the Persian army was so large, an enormous number of troops were stationed behind the main line as reserves; there was not enough space to deploy every unit. Because the Persians remained stationary as they awaited Alexander, the Macedonian king was able to decide on the best position for his various units as they marched to the battlefield. As was the case also at the Granicus and Gaugamela, Parmenion was in overall command of the Macedonian left. Hard against the sea, in a measure to prevent being outflanked, were stationed the Peloponnesian and Thessalian cavalry, followed by light-armed troops from Crete and Thrace to plug the gap between the cavalry and the main body of 24

For these mercenaries, see Rop (2019) 176–230. Greek hoplites, who made up the majority of these mercenaries, had sturdier shields than most Persian infantry soldiers, and thrusting spears rather than ranged weapons. Hoplites would likely have stood a better chance than typical Persian units against Alexander’s heavy cavalry and the Macedonian phalanx—even though the Macedonians had crushed a Greek hoplite army at Chaeronea in 338. That hoplites complemented Persian troops in terms of equipment and tactics was surely one of the reasons Persians hired them, though it is important to note that one of Rop’s (2019) main arguments is that geographical proximity and convenience played a larger role in Persians hiring Greeks than any supposed Greek tactical superiority.

46

Sears

the phalanx. As usual, the heavy phalanx made up the broad center of the line, with the elite hypaspists to the right of the formation. More units of light troops plugged the gap between the phalanx and the Macedonian right wing, which was commanded by Alexander at the head of his companion cavalry.25 On the extreme right, taking advantage of the rising ground, were Agrianian light troops. When Alexander saw that some Persian infantry units were on the heights in an attempt to outflank his army on the right, he sent some companions and Agrianians to hold them off. All of these dispositions Alexander made on the fly as he was marching to the plain. For example, the Thessalian cavalry were initially supporting the Peloponnesians and other allies on the left because Alexander saw that on the Persian right were deadly cavalry units that would pose a grave threat. He therefore sent the Thessalians to the right behind his lines as they were still on the march, hoping that the Persians would not see this tactical rearrangement until it was too late for them to do anything to counter it. Likewise on the right, the units of companion cavalry sent to the heights on an angle from the main force were dispatched when Alexander saw that Darius would attempt a flanking action in that quarter. By ceding the initiative to Alexander, Darius allowed his opponent to enter the battle with the best possible arrangement of his forces, made in response to the Persians’ clear order of battle. Alexander was simply too skilled a tactician to be allowed such a high degree of initiative. Arrian says that Alexander maintained a cautious and deliberate pace to keep his lines in order. When he came within missile range, however, he led a speedy charge on the right to shock the enemy and lessen the impact of the falling arrows and javelins. The weight of the cavalry charge had the desired effect as the Persian left broke and fled before it. At the other points along the line, the Macedonian army was not faring so well. The Greek mercenaries in the service of Darius were performing as well as the Persian King could have hoped, and the Persian cavalry on the Persian right wing were roughly treating their opponents. When Alexander and the units with him perceived the peril in which the soldiers in the rest of their line found themselves, they wheeled to the left in order to outflank the Greek mercenaries and the rest of the Persian formation. For his part, Alexander sought to kill Darius and bring an immediate end to Achaemenid rule of Persia. Either as soon as the Persian left broke, or only after a fierce struggle in his vicinity, depending on the source tradition we follow, Darius fled the field, leaving behind his soldiers, his chariot, and 25 Hammond (1992) argues that Alexander actually led an infantry formation on foot at Issus, rather than the companion cavalry. For the circularity and implausibility of Hammond’s idea, see Sears and Willekes (2016) 1027.

Alexander ’ s Battles

47

even his family. The flight of the King sapped the spirit of the rest of the Persian army, including those units performing well against the Macedonian center and left. Alexander had won, taking possession of the field along with Darius’ mother, wife, and some of his children. As we saw above, Curtius has Darius express some noble sentiments about the importance of facing Alexander in person, but it is difficult to imagine the battle being a greater disaster for Darius, unless Alexander had managed to slay him. While the King remained nominally in power over the Persian Empire, he had run away before the Macedonian king, had abandoned his own family to an uncertain fate at the hands of a foreign army, and ceded the Levant and Egypt to his enemy—he had already effectively lost Asia Minor after the Granicus. If an ancient king had to fight pitched battles in person to maintain legitimacy, there was always the risk of losing the battle, and thus losing it all. Darius held on to power for another two years, but Issus made his situation precarious indeed. At the Granicus, Alexander relied on a bold attack, superior cavalry with superior equipment, relatively even numbers, and the absence of the Great King. He also took advantage of the Persians’ blunder of keeping their deadly Greek mercenaries in reserve. In several ways, Darius had tried to correct what went wrong for his side at the first battle. He led an enormous force in person, he made full use of his heavy-armed mercenaries, and his cavalry did remarkably well against the cavalry arrayed on the Macedonian left. While he adopted a static defensive position as his satraps had done the previous year, he did send across the Pinarus a contingent of soldiers in an attempt to outflank Alexander from the high ground. Alexander took decisive advantage of two things Darius got wrong, however. The Macedonian king was able to readjust his standard battle line in response to the Persian King’s clear dispositions. He was furthermore able to neutralize Darius’ numbers by taking advantage of the confined space and spreading his line between the mountains and the sea. Darius’ numbers might have managed to win even on the narrow coastal plain if the battle had continued for a long time, with attrition having the last word. Alexander’s quick cavalry charge and imminent threat to Darius’ person, though, meant that the Persian numbers did not have time to do their work before the battle was essentially over. Curtius says that Darius placed his Greek mercenaries near the center of the Macedonian line, because he figured the phalanx would be the most formidable part of Alexander’s army. As deadly as the Macedonian phalanx was, however, with its serried rows of sarissas, the heavy cavalry packed the biggest punch, as it had at the Granicus and as it would at Alexander’s other pitched battles.

48

Sears

5

The Battle of Gaugamela (331)

Map 2.3

The Battle of Gaugamela. From Kromayer and Veith (1926), public domain

The final showdown between the Macedonian and Persian empires took place two years after Issus.26 At Gaugamela (sometimes mistakenly called Arbela), Darius got the battlefield he wanted, a broad and largely featureless plain beneath the Zagros Mountains on which his numbers could be used to full effect. Not only could the Persians outflank the smaller Macedonian force, they could take advantage of the level terrain to launch their scythed chariots against the enemy formation. A loss at Gaugamela would leave Darius without an excuse. It would simply be clear to the world that Alexander was the better commander and the Macedonians the better army. This sentiment was placed in the mouth of Alexander by several of the sources. In response to Parmenion’s advice that the Macedonians attack by night, to mitigate the disparity in numbers, Alexander responded that he would not “steal his victory” and thus leave Darius with a plausible reason for clinging to power (Curt. 4.13.1–10; Plut. Alex. 31; Arr. Anab. 3.10).

26

The main ancient sources are: Diod. Sic. 17.54–61; Curt. 4.11–16; Plut. Alex. 31–33; Arr. Anab. 3.8–15.

Alexander ’ s Battles

49

As Barry Strauss so engagingly argues, Darius did an admirable job shoring up his military forces after the lessons of the Granicus and Issus.27 The Macedonians had prevailed in large part due to their superior cavalry, so Darius bolstered his own cavalry forces in terms of numbers and quality, especially by adding thousands of heavily armed horsemen from Scythia, Bactria, and other central Asian regions famed for equestrian prowess. He would not be outmatched in horsemanship at Gaugamela. Darius still, however, ceded the tactical initiative, and Alexander again changed his formation in response to his enemy’s dispositions, just as he had done at Issus. As usual, the Macedonian king delivered the decisive stroke at the head of his companion cavalry. Given the size of the army arrayed against them, and the open terrain that favored Darius’ numbers, the Macedonian soldiers and their leaders had more than the usual amount of trepidation on the eve of battle. Aside from Parmenion’s advice to attack at night, seconded by other commanders, the men, and even Alexander himself, were nervous.28 They had good reason to be. Nothing of their advantages in terms of terrain and equipment, and even individual skill and courage, remained for them at Gaugamela. A victory in such circumstances would require unprecedented levels of tactical brilliance and luck. It is now fashionable—for good reason—to focus on the social and cultural factors undergirding the success or failure of military and political activities, and—again, with good reason—to question just how “great” Alexander was, especially from the standpoint of strategy.29 It is also undeniable that “Great Man” history was the fashion for far too long, and obscured the many grassroots phenomena, ordinary people, and climatic and geographical forces shaping the human past.30 And yet, it seems inescapable that Alexander’s tactical brilliance and the force of his uniquely charismatic leadership were the 27 Strauss (2012) 109–19. See also Heckel (2017) with further bibliography. 28 For the literary motif of panic in war, which is pervasive in accounts of Gaugamela, see Klinkott (2019), who demonstrates that not only does this motif tie the Alexander sources to Greek predecessors such as Herodotus, it also reflects Old Persian and Babylonian ideas about kingship. On panic in battle see Heidenreich and Roth (2020). 29 Alexander’s greatness is challenged most forcefully by Grainger (2007). The present volume contains many fine examples of the “war and society” approach to the eras of Philip and Alexander. 30 The work of Elizabeth Carney (esp. 2000 and 2006) has done a great deal to illuminate the role of women in the Macedonian court. See Martinez Morales (2021) for a broader look at women, including non-elite women, and war. Lee (2007) is an example of a study of the experiences of ordinary soldiers in ancient armies, a necessary corrective to traditional sources that focus mainly on commanders and kings.

50

Sears

key ingredients of the Macedonian victory at Gaugamela.31 Perhaps the Macedonians, or some conglomeration of Macedonians and Greeks, would have supplanted the Achaemenids if Alexander had never risen to the throne. It is difficult to believe, however, that anyone other than Alexander, and any army other than his, could have defeated Darius on an open plain in 331.32 We do not know how many troops Darius had in his army. He certainly did not have the one million infantry Arrian says he had (Curtius says 200,000, but this is still likely too high), nor 40,000 cavalry. He might have had, however, 20,000 cavalry, or three times the number of Alexander’s cavalry force; and the cavalry Darius brought to the field was of high quality. Alexander had 40,000 infantry, and while these soldiers were certainly greatly outnumbered by the Persian infantry, the Macedonians and the other units in their army were of far higher quality and greater experience. As Strauss says, it was in the cavalry that Darius placed his hopes, and these hopes were reasonable indeed. Such numerical superiority, even when only the best-equipped and most effective troops are considered, could make full use of the open terrain to overwhelm and surround Alexander’s smaller force. This is indeed what happened on Alexander’s left wing, where, unlike at Issus, there was no sea to offer protection. Alexander’s forces were very nearly overwhelmed on the right wing, too—where Alexander himself was leading at the head of his best cavalry. As he had done at Issus, Alexander stationed some special units on his right flank, a combination of cavalry and infantry, to provide protection from a flank attack and to serve as a screen for the main body of cavalry that would deliver the decisive blow. The Macedonian king’s plan was to advance at an oblique angle to the right, drawing the cavalry on the Persian left ever further until a gap opened in the Persian lines. In order to do this effectively, he had to make sure that his companion cavalry both had the space to launch their assault and kept out of what would surely become a desperate fight against the well-armed and deadly horsemen from central Asia. Units other than the main strike force would therefore have to take the brunt of the Persians’ furious assault against the Macedonian right. The plan was not entirely unlike the way Alexander used the units on his extreme right at the Granicus, to engage the enemy and draw the Persian wing away from the Persian center.33 Those soldiers had suf31

I hesitate to use the word “genius,” since it was for a long time so prevalent among treatments of Alexander (as evinced by the title of Hammond (1998) The Genius of Alexander the Great), but it perhaps applies in this case. 32 For the (at least partial) rehabilitation of Darius, and the idea that Alexander won the Persian Empire rather than Darius losing it, see Briant (2015). 33 For this maneuver, see Devine (1988).

Alexander ’ s Battles

51

fered the most casualties in the Macedonian army at the battle in 334, and their analogues at Gaugamela would be likewise battered. But in both battles they did their job admirably. As a desperate fight unfolded at the edge of the line between the best Persian cavalry and the mixed units stationed to hold the Macedonian right flank, Darius sent forward his scythed chariots, which charged with great speed owing to the prepared ground. The Macedonians, however, simply made gaps through which the chariots charged harmlessly, or unleashed javelins and other missiles against the horses and drivers to take the chariots out of commission before they even reached their targets. At Gaugamela, as at Cunaxa seventy years earlier, the scythed chariots were a spectacular failure against disciplined troops.34 Seeing that this charge did not have any effect, and aware of the ferocity of the battle on the wing, Darius sent more cavalry to his left to reinforce those giving the Macedonian right a beating. Without a commander like Alexander in charge, Darius’ move might have finished the battle in a Persian victory. The forces on the Macedonian right were already outnumbered and fighting for their lives. Alexander, though, perceived the gap this redistribution of troops had caused in the Persian lines and ordered his companions and the bulk of the phalanx to attack at that point. His horsemen punched through as his phalanx held the enemy in place. Alexander then charged straight for Darius’ position as he had done at Issus, and Darius once again fled from the field. Alexander had won, or so it seemed, and the sources suggest he then set off in pursuit of Darius to finish the job once and for all. As hard pressed as Alexander’s right wing had been, especially for those tasked with providing flank cover and drawing the Persian cavalry further away from the Persian center, the Macedonian left had an even worse time of it. Other cavalry units from the Persian army had managed to surround the Macedonian forces under Parmenion, and several groups had punched through to begin looting the Macedonian camp. Unaware that their King had run away in terror, the victorious soldiers on the Persian right kept up their assault until Alexander and his units turned back to face them. Arrian says that a messenger had caught up to Alexander while he was in hot pursuit of Darius, to tell the Macedonian king that the battle was in danger of being lost on the left wing. It does not seem possible that such a message could reach Alexander if he really had been charging after his enemy at full speed, but in any case, he left Darius for now and came to the rescue of Parmenion’s forces. 34

For the performance of these weapons at Gaugamela, see Heckel, Willekes, and Wrightson (2010).

52

Sears

In the event, Alexander had prepared for the contingency of his left wing being outflanked. He stationed a large body of infantry in reserve, which was able to about-face and assault in the rear the Persians marauding through the camp. Many Persians were killed in this action, while others turned to flee. Those who did manage to flee slammed directly into Alexander and the companion cavalry coming to reinforce the Macedonian left. A brutal hand-to-hand fight then took place, with the Persians trying to get away with their lives, and the Macedonians trying to cement their victory. The combination of the valiant actions of the Macedonian reserve, the arrival of Alexander and the companions, and the hard fighting of the Thessalian cavalry who had held their own on the Macedonian left saved Parmenion’s side of the line from defeat. Darius might have gotten away, but his army was broken and his claim to vast swathes of the Persian Empire had evaporated in an instant. Gaugamela, even more than Issus, showed the importance of speed to Alexander’s victories. Taking a lesson from Epaminondas, the Theban commander who pioneered new tactics in the first half of the fourth century, Alexander needed the majority of his army to hold out just long enough for the companion cavalry to make the decisive move. At battles like Leuctra in 371, Epaminondas had marched across the battlefield in an oblique formation, leading with his strongest wing while keeping the rest of the formation back until the attacking wing had done its work.35 Epaminondas and the Thebans transformed Greek battle from a test of endurance, in which two phalanxes would slug it out until one side wore down and broke formation, to a test of tactics and formations. Epaminondas had urged his army to “crush the head of the serpent”—in his case, the deadly Spartan phalanx (Polyaen. 2.3.15). Alexander took this general principle and applied it with his cavalry against the far larger armies of Darius III.36

35 The fullest source on Leuctra from the Theban perspective is given by Plutarch (Pelop. 20–24). For more on that battle, see Butera and Sears (2019) 139–56. 36 Sabin (2007, 410) argues that “Alexander achieved a triumphant unification of the Spartan and Theban systems” by combining Epaminondas’ oblique attack with the Spartan maneuver of the victorious wing wheeling towards the rest of the enemy army to roll it up unit by unit. I am not so sure that this Spartan “system” represented a deliberate tactical advance rather than an accident of traditional hoplite warfare, in which both right wings tended to be victorious such that battles sometimes developed a secondary phase in which the right wings engaged each other. In Alexander’s case, he deliberately wheeled to the left after his breakthroughs in order to charge directly at Darius, who was positioned in his army’s center. Alexander’s doctrine, therefore, was more an extension of Epaminondas’ idea to “crush the head of the serpent” than an amalgam of two Greek systems of combat. Epaminondas’ was the key innovation. For Epaminondas’ tactical innovations, see also Buckler (1985).

Alexander ’ s Battles

6

53

The Battle of the Hydaspes River (326)

Map 2.4

The Battle of the Hydaspes River. From Kromayer and Veith (1926), public domain

Whether or not we agree with Devine’s assessment, that the Battle of the Hydaspes River was a relatively minor engagement, the fact remains that after the battle Porus, the Indian king, remained in power, only now formally subservient to Alexander.37 Treating Porus “like a king” was a brilliant piece of 37

The main ancient sources are: Diod. Sic. 17.87–89; Curt. 8.13–14; Plut. Alex. 60; Arr. Anab. 5.9–19. See Devine (1986) for the argument that this battle was not all that important.

54

Sears

propaganda on Alexander’s part, and the sources make a big deal of it, but this battle did not decide the fate of an empire, as Gaugamela or even Issus had done. In a tactical sense, also, the battle might not have been as complex as some of Alexander’s other engagements, nor did it require as much of his military acumen. The most difficult part of the engagement for the Macedonians seems to have been getting across the river itself, a far more serious barrier than the Granicus and not one across which an army could force a passage if the other side was well guarded. Once he had taken a majority of his forces across—by making use of a large and forested island to obscure his movements during a rainstorm, according to the ancient sources—Alexander used tried and true tactics (with a few slight twists) against Porus’ army.38 Before engaging the main enemy force, Alexander rode ahead of the infantry with his cavalry force and fought an initial skirmish against a contingent of Porus’ cavalry supported by chariots. For their part, the chariots got stuck in the mud and proved useless, while the Indian cavalry were routed with heavy losses, including Porus’ own son who had been in command during the action. The two sides then prepared for a general engagement and marshalled their armies for a pitched battle. Even the sources that tend to inflate the numbers of Alexander’s enemies admit that in this battle Alexander was superior in cavalry, and it was the cavalry that played the decisive role. The sources agree that Alexander had superior numbers in overall infantry, too, with Porus having only 20–30,000 troops, which made the Hydaspes unique among Alexander’s pitched battles. Porus’ army had a terrifying novel weapon, namely elephants, but, while they did inflict some casualties on the Macedonian forces, like the Persian scythed chariots the elephants did little to stop Alexander’s army. The biggest threat the elephants posed seemed to be against horses, which tended to be unwilling to go into action against the huge beasts. Porus used his elephants in an attempt to prevent Alexander from crossing the Hydaspes, but repeated feints 38 The ancient sources’ (especially Arrian’s) accounts of Alexander’s stealthy crossing and the repeated feints prior to the crossing, by which he confounded Porus, demonstrate that the Macedonian king was perfectly able to use trickery, deceit, and surprise. Bloedow (2008) argued, quite convincingly, even the river crossing might not have been much of a feat, since it likely took place over quite a span of time and not during a dark and stormy night with the enemy threatening. Logistical realities, according to Bloedow, meant that Alexander could not have transported thousands of troops on makeshift rafts in a single night, but instead likely crossed slowly and deliberately on rafts made well ahead of time, just as he did at other rivers such as the Indus. Bloedow is reacting to the majority opinion of scholars such as Devine (1987, 96), who called Alexander’s crossing of the river “one of the most difficult problems of his career.”

Alexander ’ s Battles

55

on Alexander’s part over the days preceding the battle meant that none of Porus’ elephants were on hand to contest the Macedonian crossing when it finally took place. In the battle itself, Porus arranged the elephants in front of the main body of troops in the Indian center to serve as a deterrent against cavalry attacks. In response to this arrangement, Alexander simply told the infantry at his army’s center to hold off until the cavalry on the wings had driven the enemy into confusion and disorder, which would neutralize the threat posed by the elephants. The battle began in earnest when Alexander sent his cavalry against the Indian left. Instead of a breakthrough led by the heavy-armed companion cavalry, this time Alexander relied on his more lightly armed horse archers to disturb the enemy formation. Thus, while Alexander used cavalry on the right wing as usual, he opted to harass and sow confusion rather than punch through with his standard charge at the head of a wedge.39 When Porus tried to respond by sending the cavalry on his right wing to reinforce the left, the cavalry on Alexander’s left wing, led by Coenus, crossed the field and dogged the Indian reinforcements in the rear, forcing Porus’ cavalry forces to face in two different directions. The coordinated cavalry attacks had the desired effect, and those troops in the Indian army who were harried and shot down fell back on their own army’s center, leading to greater confusion, including among the elephants. Only then did the Macedonian infantry engage. A brutal struggle ensured, with terrified and wounded elephants crushing friend and foe alike. When the Macedonians began clearly to have the better of things, the force Alexander had left across the river under Craterus, designed to keep Porus distracted from the main crossing, made it over to join their comrades. These fresh troops took over the rout and pursuit of the Indian army. Despite fighting bravely himself, Porus had lost. He contented himself with Alexander treating him “like a king” while he remained in titular control of his kingdom. The sources as usual are effusive in the numbers they convey for the Indian dead—with some accounts putting the casualties at more than 20,000—while being modest in terms of Alexander’s losses. Alexander did lose hundreds of soldiers, including from the cavalry. Most devastatingly for the Macedonian king, his trusty horse Bucephalus died from wounds sustained in the battle. Alexander honored him by founding a city bearing the horse’s name.40 39 For the sources’ confusing treatment of the cavalry at this battle, see Hamilton (1956). Devine (1987) also tackles this problem and other issues related to the sources and tactics of the battle. 40 Curtius’ account of the battle is markedly different than that found in Arrian and Plutarch, who agree with one another. Curtius has Alexander command the right wing, and Coenus

56

Sears

Perhaps what made the Battle of the Hydaspes so decisive, if we believe Plutarch (Alex. 62.1), is that it chastened Alexander’s soldiers to the point that they lost the will to continue the conquest. The Macedonians should have made short work of Porus’ force—this was no Gaugamela. While Alexander’s side did win, it had a more difficult time and suffered more casualties than the men had come to expect. The soldiers were not eager for more fights like this. A couple of months later, at the Hyphasis River, the Macedonian soldiers mutinied and refused to go any further. 7

Conclusion: Did Alexander Fight like Philip?

A common parlor game among historians is to debate whether Philip or Alexander was truly the greater of the two. Did not Alexander merely make use of the kingdom and army his father had built from scratch?41 It is worth asking at the end of this chapter on Alexander’s battles the extent to which Alexander did things his own way. Whether by the different nature of their campaigns (consolidating and expanding Macedonia versus conquering the Persian Empire), or differing personalities, or a combination of both, a major distinction between the ways Philip and Alexander fought battles is that the former preferred to avoid them, while the latter sought them out. Both kings demonstrated personal courage, and both were wounded while in arms. Both led their armies in person, and both commanded well-coordinated, combined-arms forces. Although both made use of heavy cavalry, in the one pitched battle for which we have some idea concerning where Philip placed himself—Chaeronea in 338—he was in charge of the phalanx rather than the cavalry. The eighteen-year-old Alexander led the cavalry in that battle, though he charged from the left wing against the Theban Sacred Band on the Greek right.42 We cannot know whether Philip command the left, just like the other sources, but does not have Coenus move to the right to attack the rear of Porus’ reinforcements. Also, Curtius has the infantry engage the Indian center at the same time as the cavalry attack from the wings, with all three forces achieving a breakthrough more or less simultaneously. For the discrepancies in the sources, see Howe (2016), who argues that Curtius relies on Ptolemy for this battle, who emphasizes his own heroic deeds, while Arrian and Plutarch found Ptolemy’s account to self-serving and incredible, and thus turned to other sources for a more realistic account of the battle. Howe thinks the version of the battle found in Arrian and Plutarch is to be preferred, and I agree. 41 A good example of this discussion point is Gabriel (2010), who subtitled his book on Philip, “Greater than Alexander.” 42 For the Battle of Chaeronea, see Sears and Willekes (2016); Butera and Sears (2019) 157–80.

Alexander ’ s Battles

57

marshalled his army differently than Alexander’s standard formation because he was fighting a combined force of Greek hoplites instead of a Persian army. Though he planned to invade Persia, Philip never got the chance to show how we would have led his soldiers against Darius III. Nothing in Philip’s career, even at those battles he did fight, resembles the figure of Alexander, conspicuous on his horse, charging directly at the enemy king. Perhaps this makes Philip a more responsible leader, one who took more care of his own life and made more provisions for the long-term stability of his kingdom. Again, maybe it boils down to the fact that Philip had no enemy kings to fight man-to-man. Philip forged a great kingdom largely from scratch, and needed to draw on all his diplomatic and political skills to do so. While not short on such skills, Alexander was fighting for control of an empire that already existed, making his most important task dethroning and replacing the King. A conspicuous kill on the battlefield might have been the best way to pursue that goal, suggesting that Alexander’s bold personal leadership at the head of a charge was reasonable policy. Alexander inherited his father’s army, a well-drilled combined-arms force capable of far more complex maneuvers than the armies of his Greek predecessors. But Alexander led that army in his own way in the pursuit of his own campaign. In so many ways, including on the battlefield, Alexander was unlike other leaders, even Philip. Alexander had to be, because he was doing something no Greek or Macedonian had done before. The success of his leadership in the field, revealed most clearly in the fact that he never lost a pitched battle, spawned a host of imitators in the centuries following his death. Despite some prominent leaders who commanded from the front like Alexander, such as Pyrrhus of Epirus, those most often compared to Alexander, such as Hannibal and Julius Caesar, were not renowned for battlefield heroics. Perhaps they fought more like Philip. In the combination of his success in battle and the means of achieving that success, Alexander might stand alone. Works Cited Bearzot, C. and Landucci Gattinoni, F. (eds) (2016) Alexander’s Legacy. Rome. Beck, H., Duplá, A., Jehne, M., and Pina Polo, F. (eds) (2011) Consuls and Res Publica: Holding High Office in the Roman Republic. Cambridge. Bloedow, E. F. (2008) “Alexander the Great at the Hydaspes River in 326 BC.” Athenaeum 96: 499–534. Briant, P. (2015) Darius in the Shadow of Alexander. Trans. Jean Marie Todd. Cambridge, MA.

58

Sears

Brice, L. L. (ed) (2020) New Approaches to Greek and Roman Warfare. Hoboken, NJ. Buckler, J. (1985) “Epameinondas and the Ἔμβολον.” Phoenix 39: 134–43. Butera, C. J. and Sears, M. A. (2019) Battles and Battlefields of Ancient Greece: A Guide to their History, Topography, and Archaeology. Barnsley, UK. Carney, E. (2000) Women and Monarchy in Macedonia. Norman, OK. Carney, E. (2006) Olympias: Mother of Alexander the Great. London. Carney, E. and Ogden, D. (eds) (2010) Philip II and Alexander the Great: Father and Son, Lives and Afterlives, Oxford. Cowley, R. (ed) (1999) What If? Eminent Historians Imagining What Might Have Been. New York. 37–56. Devine, A. M. (1986) “Demythologizing the Battle of the Granicus.” Phoenix 40: 265–78. Devine, A. M. (1987) “The Battle of the Hydaspes: A Tactical and Source-Critical Study.” AncW 16: 91–113. Devine, A. M. (1988) “A Pawn-Sacrifice at the Battle of the Granicus: The Origins of a Favorite Stratagem of Alexander the Great.” AncW 18: 3–20. Fuller, J. F. C. (1960) The Generalship of Alexander the Great. New Brunswick, NJ. Gabriel, R. A. (2010) Philip II of Macedonia: Greater than Alexander. Washington, DC. Grainger, J. D. (2007) Alexander the Great Failure: The Collapse of the Macedonian Empire. London. Hamilton, J. R. (1956) “The Cavalry Battle at the Hydaspes.” JHS 76: 26–31. Hammond, N. G. L. (1992) “Alexander’s Charge at the Battle of Issus in 333 B.C.” Historia 41: 395–406. Hammond, N. G. L. (1997) “What May Philip Have Learned as a Hostage in Thebes?” GRBS 38: 355–72. Hammond, N. G. L. (1998) The Genius of Alexander the Great. Chapel Hill, NC. Hanson, V. D. (2002) Carnage and Culture: Landmark Battles in the Rise to Western Power. New York. Hanson, V. D. (2009) The Western War of War: Infantry Battle in Classical Greece, 2nd edn. Berkeley. Harari, Y. N. (2007) “The Concept of ‘Decisive Battles’ in World History.” Journal of World History 18.3: 251–66. Head, D. (1992) The Achaemenid Persian Army. Stockport, CT. Heckel, W. (2008) The Conquests of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Heckel, W. (2017) “Dareios III’s Military Reforms before Gaugamela and the Alexander Mosaic: A Note.” AHB 31: 65–69. Heckel, W., Willekes, C., and Wrightson, G. (2010) “Scythed Chariots at Gaugamela: A Case Study,” in Carney and Ogden (2010) 103–109. Heidenreich, S. and Roth, J. (2020) “The Neurophysiology of Panic on the Battlefield,” in Brice (2020) 127–38.

Alexander ’ s Battles

59

Hoffman, F. and Schmidt, K. S. (eds) (2014) Orient und Okzident in hellenistischer Zeit. Nuremberg. Holt, F. L. (2005) Into the Land of Bones: Alexander the Great in Afghanistan. Berkeley. Howe, T. (2016) “Plutarch, Arrian and the Hydaspes: A Historiographical Approach,” in Bearzot and Landucci Gattinoni (2016) 25–39. Klinkott, H. (2019) “Die Panik von Gaugamela.” Gymnasium 126: 513–30. Konijnendijk, R. (2016) “Mardonius’ Senseless Greeks.” CQ 66: 1–12. Konijnendijk, R. (2021) “Cavalry and the Character of Classical Warfare,” in Konijnendijk et al. (2021) 169–204. Konijnendijk, R., Kucewicz, C., and Lloyd, M. (eds) (2021) Brill’s Companion to Greek Warfare beyond the Phalanx. Leiden. Kromayer, J. and Veith, G. (eds) (1926) Schlachten-Atlas zur antiken Kriegsgeschichte (5,1. Lieferung, Griechische Abteilung 2): Makedonisch-hellenist. Zeit (Alexander der Große). Leipzig. Lattimore, R. (1939) “The Wise Adviser in Herodotus.” CP 34: 24–35. Lazenby, J. F. (1993) The Defence of Greece: 490–479 BC. Warminster. Lee, J. W. I. (2007) A Greek Army on the March: Soldiers and Survival in Xenophon’s Anabasis. Cambridge. Martinez Morales, J. (2021) “Women, Diversity, and War off the Battlefield in Classical Greece,” in Konijnendijk, Kucewicz, and Lloyd (2021) 122–44. McCoy, W. J. (1989) “Memnon of Rhodes at the Granicus.” AJP 110: 413–33. Nefedkin, A. K. (2014) “Once More on the Origin of the Scythed Chariot.” AHB 28: 112–18. Nolan, J. (2017) The Allure of Battle: A History of How Wars Have Been Won and Lost. Oxford. Ober, J. (1999) “Conquest Denied: The Premature Death of Alexander the Great,” in Cowley (1999) 37–56. Pedersen, B. (2015) “Callisthenes and the Creation of a Homeric Hero.” C&M 66: 103–28. Roller, M. B. (2011) “The Consul(ar) as ‘exemplum’: Fabius Cunctator’s Paradoxical Glory,” in Beck, Duplá, Jehne, and Pina Polo (2011) 182–210. Rop, J. (2013) “Reconsidering the Origin of the Scythed Chariot.” Historia 62: 167–18. Rop, J. (2019) Greek Military Service in the Ancient Near East, 401–330 BCE. Cambridge. Sabin, P. (2007) “Battle,” in CHGRW 2.399–460. Sears, M. A. (2009) “A Note on Mardonius’ Emissaries.” Mouseion 9: 21–28. Sears, M. A. and Willekes, C. (2016) “Alexander’s Cavalry Charge at Chaeronea, 338 BCE.” Journal of Military History 80: 1017–35. Sekunda, N. (1982) The Persian Army, 560–330 BC. Oxford. Strauss, B. (2012) Masters of Command: Alexander, Hannibal, Caesar, and the Genius of Leadership. New York.

60

Sears

Tuplin, C. (2014) “The Military Dimension of Hellenistic Kingship: An Achaemenid Inheritance?,” in Hoffman and Schmidt (2014) 245–76. Wallace, S. (2016) “Greek Culture in Afghanistan and India: Old Evidence and New Discoveries.” G&R 63: 205–26. Worthington, I. (2014) By the Spear: Philip II, Alexander the Great, and the Rise and Fall of the Macedonian Empire. Oxford.

Chapter 3

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices Edward M. Anson As the past can influence the present, so can new perspectives and interpretations expand our understanding of that very past. Warfare is nearly as old as human existence and many of its practices, characteristics, and goals are as well, with our terminology and understanding of them evolving over time. Modern military theory can be effectively employed to elucidate ancient practices, because the circumstances and the practices existed in the distant past even if they did not receive much, if any, examination or definition. With apologies to the Bard of Avon, an action by any other name would remain the same, and lack of equivalent or consistent terms for what amounts to the same practice does not deny that practice’s presence.1 Modern military manuals include a great many defined circumstances and practices not addressed in such manuals from antiquity. These include the concepts employed under the titles of “Insurgency and Counterinsurgency,” “Shock and Awe or Rapid Dominance,” and “Inner Front or Stability Operations.” These concepts are closely connected in modern strategic thinking. Sparked by American operations in the last couple of decades in Iraq and Afghanistan, Alexander the Great’s operations in these same areas have become the subject of modern military discussion. This is clearly not the result of direct correlations due to place or participants. Among the many differences, the dominant religion and some aspects of the culture in ancient Bactria or Sogdiana have changed and I assume there have been some significant geographic changes as well over more than two millennia. It is just that both Alexander and the United States have had problems in Central Asia and the coincidence is responsible for the renewed interest, especially in the American military, in Alexander’s policies employed in his conquest of these lands.2 Moreover, Alexander’s success in conquering and holding his empire together during his lifetime has attracted attention. Indeed, probably the most surprising aspect of Alexander’s success is that in Persis, the homeland of 1 Brice (2016) 12–14. 2 See Holt (2012).

© Edward M. Anson, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_005

62

Anson

the previous rulers of western Asia and Egypt. Alexander encountered virtually no serious resistance from the Persian population after his defeat of the Persian forces at the Persian Gates. The region later affiliated with the subsequent Seleucid Empire for more than a century.3 Alexander’s actions have been variously interpreted as reflecting modern strategies employed to achieve similar results. 1

Shock and Awe/Rapid Dominance

The strategy of “Shock and Awe,” today more commonly called “Rapid Dominance,” was fully developed by Harlan K. Ullman and James P. Wade, who presented the concept to the United States National Defense University in 1996.4 The objective of this tactic, whichever its designation, is the destruction of the enemy’s will to resist through the massive use of power. “[The] intent, … is to field a range of capabilities to induce sufficient Shock and Awe to render the adversary impotent.”5 “To affect and dominate an adversary’s will both physically and psychologically.”6 While the use of the phrase “shock and awe” in this context may be new, what the term entails is not. The concept does not differ much from the “Blitzkrieg” of the Second World War, although at least in theory in the stated current version civilian casualties are to be minimized. The physical and psychological effects are dramatic and crippling. Ideally, “shock and awe” wins the war without further combat. This strategy involves the disruption of “communication, transportation, food production, water supply, and other aspects of infrastructure,”7 in short, operations that will affect not just combatants, but non-combatants as well. The doctrine’s newness was in the supposed psychological effects of such operations to produce a quick end to hostilities, as opposed to the generally recognized Clausewitzian use of overwhelming force to destroy an enemy’s material means to resist. However, in the description found in current American policy, “military force would be applied in a purer form and targeted primarily against the military capabilities of an opponent.”8 The stated goal here would then be to minimize damage to 3 All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated. 4 Ullman and Wade (1996). It entered popular culture worldwide with the former Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld’s description of the initial strategy in the 2003 Iraq War as “Shock and Awe.” 5 Ullman and Wade (1996) xxiv. 6 Ullman and Wade (1996) xxv. 7 Ullman and Wade (1996) xxvii. 8 Ullman and Wade (1996) xxviii.

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices

63

civilian infrastructure, yet the psychological effects of shock and awe would affect the entire population as stated above. The disruption of communication, transportation, food production, and water supply would still have a deleterious effect on the civilian population. An additional aspect of the policy as described by Ullman and Wade, is that shock and awe would also have a deterrence value.9 Knowing that the capability and the willingness to use it existed would prevent such warfare in the first place. Especially with respect to such strategies’ deterrence value, the psychological importance of the demonstration of overwhelming power was not unknown in the Greek world. During the Peloponnesian War, Cleon recommended the total destruction of Mytilene after its revolt as a means to discourage further rebellion by others (Thuc. 3.39.7) and in the Melian Dialogue the Athenians declare that to leave the Melians free and independent would be a sign of Athenian weakness; their destruction would be seen by the members of the empire as a sign of strength and as a lesson to others (Thuc. 5.95, 97). But the question here is did Philip and Alexander consciously employ the strategy currently referred to in miliary parlance as rapid dominance? The answer for Alexander is certainly yes,10 but with one possible exception it is not so evident in the campaigns of his father Philip. Early in the latter’s reign he soundly defeated the Illyrians, killing 7,000 of the enemy, most of whom were killed by an extended pursuit by the Macedonians. This was the overwhelming majority of the 10,500 Illyrians who had joined battle with the Macedonian king (Diod. Sic. 16.4.4–7). While this defeat had to be followed up two years later (Diod. Sic. 16.22.3; cf. Just. Epit. 12.16.6; Plut. Alex. 3.8),11 it was still a shocking defeat for the Illyrians, who the previous year had overwhelmed a Macedonian army and killed the then king, Perdiccas, Philip’s elder brother.12 The number of dead implies that the Macedonians had pursued the defeated Illyrians in order to inflict on them maximum casualties; this appears to have been the goal, especially since Philip never showed any interest in the conquest of Illyria. Philip’s subsequent campaigns against the Illyrians were primarily designed as a form of shock and awe to protect Macedonian borders from attack, but little description of these campaigns is found in our sources 9 Ullman and Wade (1996) xiv–xv, xxv–xxvi. 10 It is claimed that what Alexander practiced in his Indian campaign, while it could be called rapid dominance, is indistinguishable from terrorism; see Bosworth (1996) 142–51. Cf. Müller, in this volume. 11 This campaign resulted from an attempt by various Thracian, Paeonian, and Illyrian tribes to throw off Macedonian domination. The campaign resulted is his erstwhile enemies becoming terrified and submitting to dependent alliances with Philip (Diod. Sic. 16.23.3). 12 On this battle, see Anson (2020) 60–62.

64

Anson

(Just. Epit. 8.6.3, 9.2.10, 3.1–3). The only true suggestion that they well may have been attempts to preempt invasion attempts by these tribal peoples derives from the actions in this regard by his son Alexander after Philip’s death. With Alexander, there can be little doubt that shock and awe was employed. With respect to the Greek world, Philip was most often attempting to minimize fear of his growing power rather than overwhelming anyone with a dramatic display of military might. After his victory at Chaeronea, Philip, who had attempted through diplomacy to avoid this conflict, did take his army south into the Peloponnesus. Here, he stripped Sparta of some of the territories which were then bestowed on some of Sparta’s neighbors, and he even briefly invaded Laconia, but never confronted the Spartans directly. Philip’s goal, as elsewhere in Greece, was to strengthen his nation and his allies at the expense of those previously dominant Greek powers that had routinely interfered in the affairs of Macedonia.13 There was clearly the threat of overwhelming force and people were killed, cities destroyed, and populations enslaved, but these horrors were not so much designed to frighten an enemy into surrender or to terrify other potential enemies into doing so. The killing, destruction, and enslavement were the desired outcomes of these campaigns and were most often accompanied by the acquisition of territory and the importation of Macedonians to these conquered areas. As noted above, Philip early in his reign soundly defeated the Illyrians. The victory drove the Illyrians out of Macedonian territory and further resulted in the rapid incorporation of the normally independent, mountainous cantons of Upper Macedonia into Philip’s kingdom. Many of these regions had long maintained their independence from the Kingdom of Macedonia, which dominated the southern plain, and were allies of the Illyrians who had defeated and killed Philip’s brother, the previous king. It is unknown how precisely this incorporation was accomplished. It is only stated that it was. Diodorus Siculus, our primary narrative source for Philip’s reign, simply states that Philip “subdued all who lived as far as the lake called Lychnitis” (16.8.1).14 The assumption, however, is that the defeat of the previously victorious Illyrians was such that these cantons, either because he had freed them from Illyrian occupation, or because many of their leaders had sided with the Illyrians and may have been expelled from their 13 Ellis (1976) 204; Philip had initially set about to create a Macedonian nation and safeguard it against interference from its northern neighbors and the city-states of southern Greece. By the end of his reign this desire to protect his kingdom had been transformed into a desire for Macedonia and himself to gain hegemony over the Greek world (Anson 2020). 14 Justin (Epit. 8. 6. 2) simply notes that this incorporation followed the victory over the Illyrians.

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices

65

lands as a result, were readily incorporated into Philip’s kingdom. There may certainly here have been a bit of shock and awe experienced by the defeated, but it does not appear to have been Philip’s purpose or in his subsequent destruction of many cities during his reign, such as Methone and Olynthus (Diod. Sic. 16.31.6, 34.4–5, 53.3; Dem. 1.9, 4.4, 9.26; Just. Epit. 7.6.13–16, 8.3.11). These actions were not meant to overwhelm others’ will to resist, or even much influence others, but rather to solidify his hold on Macedonia and those lands he wished to control by destroying those cities and powers that threatened these ambitions. In any case, the power he might have most wished to influence, the Athenian state, was not terrified into submission, but until his victory at Chaeronea it was quite the opposite.15 After Chaeronea,16 with his major opponents beaten or in disarray he proposed that Greek states were to be autonomous and at peace internally and externally with one another (RO 84 A and B = Syll. I3 283 = SEG XXVII 506). Of course, there had been several changes in Greek governments after Chaeronea favorable to Philip which were now frozen in place and Macedonian garrisons were put in a number of communities.17 The peace also was to make possible a war on Persia, so ulterior motives can be assigned, but the tactics were clearly not the “destruction of the enemy’s will to resist through the massive use of power.” Diodorus Siculus (16.95.2–4) states that “[Philip] won for himself the greatest empire in the Greek world, while the growth of his position was not due so much to his prowess in arms as to his persuasive abilities and friendliness in communication.” Philip was a shrewd user of what the Greeks called xenia, personal guest-friendship.18 This was a formal friendship most often established between prominent individuals and marked by the exchanging of gifts. Philip created such relationships with powerful individuals throughout the Greek world often by his frequent and extravagant gifts. Now what was for one person the cementing of a personal relationship which often bonded 15

While the Peace of Philocrates came about indeed in part as fear of Philip’s ability after the evacuation of Thermopylae (Aeschin. 2.132–133; cf. Diod. Sic. 16.59.3–4) to invade Attica, this peace was the result of this very practical concern. 16 For the battle, see Anson (2020) 68–71. 17 Ael. VH 6.1; Just. Epit. 9.4.6–10; Diod. Sic. 16.87.3, 17.3.3, 5; Paus. 9.1.8, 6.5. Thebes in particular was treated harshly. Its government was changed by Philip into an oligarchy (Just. Epit. 9.4.8), Orchomenus and Plataea were restored (Paus. 4.27.10; 9.1.8, 37.8), Oropus was given to the Athenians ([Demades] 1.9; Paus. 1.34.1; Diod. Sic. 18.56.7). The Athenians, the other major power present at the Battle of Chaeronea, were treated much less harshly. Athens kept her democratic government but did have her Confederacy abolished (Paus. 1.25.3) and her holdings in the Thracian Chersonese were surrendered to Philip (Roebuck 1948, 81). 18 See Anson (2020) 93–100.

66

Anson

families and extended through generations, could very easily be seen by another as bribery, which is exactly what the Athenian Demosthenes (18.41, 295, 19.145, 167, 265, 306) believed Philip’s gifts to be. Philip appealed to those elements in Greek societies who sought to increase their power and influence, and he often gave them the material means to do so.19 Philip was adept at “helping” solve various conflicts in the Greek world and by so doing expanding his role in Greek affairs. He became the Archon of Thessaly and the dominant member of the Amphictyonic Council which oversaw the religious site of the Delphic Oracle. Besides being the destroyer and enslaver, Philip became the friend, the protector, the helper. Philip made his way not by terrifying the Greek world so much as by befriending much of it. It was Alexander who employed policies both to end conflicts in which he was engaged and also as a way to terrorize others into passivity. At Gaza, when he was informed by his engineers that taking the city by force was impossible, Alexander responded “that the more impracticable it was, the more necessary was the capture; for the achievements would strike great terror (ἐκπλήξειν γὰρ τοὺς πολεμίους τὸ ἔργον τῷ παραλόγῳ ἐπὶ μέγα) into his enemies” (Arr. Anab. 2.26.2–3). According to Curtius Rufus (8.14.41), Alexander, when the defeated Indian prince Porus was brought before him, proclaimed: “What folly forced you, knowing as you did the fame of my achievements, to try the fortunes of war, when Taxiles served as an example of my clemency towards those who surrender.” Whether in his pursuits of defeated opponents or in his securing their possible paths of escape from the carnage, as with the Uxians, the Persians at the Persian Gates, and the Malli in India, Alexander wished to inflict maximum casualties on his enemies. With respect to the Uxians and those occupying the Persian Gates, while it is clear that Alexander wished to ensure that he would not have to face these same opponents again, it is also clear that he wished to intimidate both peoples. Craterus was sent ahead of Alexander’s main force to seize the heights to block any Uxian escape (Arr. Anab. 3.17.4), and in the operation at the Persian Gates, Craterus and Meleager were left in charge of the camp at the entrance to the pass (Arr. Anab. 3.18.4; Curt. 5.4.14). As Alexander led his forces to a position behind the Persians, Craterus was to await Alexander’s signal and then attack the Persian wall, blocking any exit (Arr. Anab. 3.18.5; Curt. 5.4.16, 29).20 As Alexander moved to this new position to the rear of and above the Persian camp, he also detached Philotas, Coenus, and Amyntas to advance along the road from the pass toward Persepolis (Curt. 19 20

See Anson (2020) 97–99. Arrian reports that Alexander was to signal to Craterus, while Curtius says Craterus was to attack when he heard the commotion caused by Alexander’s attack.

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices

67

5.4.20). They would then assault the Persians from a different direction and at the same time block their retreat to the capital. Alexander descended from the heights and began his attack, and shortly thereafter, responding to a trumpet blast from Alexander Craterus, began his assault. To further entrap the Persians who initially rushed to resist Alexander and, finding themselves hemmed in, attempted to fall back to their wall, he sent Ptolemy with a force to occupy the wall. Those who had originally defended the wall now found themselves trapped on all sides. According to Arrian (Anab. 3.18.9), most of the Persians were killed attempting to escape.21 Alexander then proceeded virtually unopposed to the Persian capital of Persepolis. Persis, the Persian heartland, after Alexander’s victory at the Persian Gates provided no further resistance of any significance to Alexander’s occupation. One of the clearest examples of Alexander’s use of “rapid domination” is found during his journey down the Indus and especially in his treatment of the Malli. This campaign is described by Brian Bosworth as a war with no other purpose than to kill as many of this people, men, women, and children, as possible, in order to forestall further resistance in the area. Alexander had heard that the Malli and the Oxydracae,22 who were the most numerous and warlike of those living along the river, had set aside their differences, and were planning a joint resistance to the Macedonians (Arr. Anab. 6.4.3, 11.3; Curt. 9.4.15; Just. Epit. 12.9.3). The Malli began their preparations for the possible invasion by first placing their women and children in their strongest cities (Arr. Anab. 6.4.3). Alexander immediately set out to attack these very strongholds where they had placed their dependents. The Macedonian forces arrived before anyone expected. As Brian Bosworth notes,23 this was a campaign marked by massacre after massacre. Alexander meant to destroy these people both to end their resistance before it could even begin and as an example to all others he might encounter. This was common practice with respect to Alexander. He liked his victories to be complete, annihilating as many of the enemy as possible, whether by pursuing defeated opponents or in securing possible paths of their escape (Arr. Anab. 3.17.5, 18.1–9; cf. 3.17.4; Curt. 5.3.17–4.33; Plut. Alex. 37.1–4; Diod. Sic. 17.68.1–7; Polyaenus, Strat. 4.3.27).

21 Here Curtius’ and Arrian’s accounts diverge materially. Curtius (5.4.33) claims that Ariobarzanes, the Persian commander, forty horsemen, and 5,000 infantry escaped, while Arrian states that only the commander and a small number of horsemen did. 22 Diodorus Siculus (17.98.1) calls them Sydraeae. Bosworth (1996) 133–42; Müller in this volume. 23 Bosworth (1996) 136–41.

68

Anson

Prior to his attack on the Malli, Alexander had sent his admiral Nearchus with the fleet three days’ journey down the river; another force under Hephaestion was to journey five days ahead of Alexander, bypassing the stronghold Alexander was aiming to attack and awaiting any survivors who attempted to flee the king’s assault. Another force was to follow Alexander’s course but wait three days before setting forth. Whichever way the Malli tried to escape there would be a force to block that retreat (Arr. Anab. 6.5.4–7). Virtually every man, woman, and child was slaughtered (Arr. Anab. 6.14.1–3; Curtius 9.5.20; cf. Diod. Sic. 17.99.4); the Malli’s unconditional submission followed (Arr. Anab. 6.14.1). Within the parameters of the technology of the time, shock and awe was used by Alexander’s forces on many occasions, but never as the only strategy. It was used selectively and mostly against tribal populations, but occasionally those who opposed the Macedonian king suffered greatly, whether politically organized by tribes or as kingdoms or city-states. Alexander wished to make it clear that to surrender meant life and often preferential treatment; to resist resulted in enslavement and death. While Alexander typically attempted to use diplomacy with non-tribal peoples, shock and awe was always a real possibility. During Alexander’s conflict with the Illyrians, he learned that the Thebans had revolted and were besieging the Macedonian garrison in the Cadmea. The Macedonian king moved immediately to the scene and within days of arriving had captured the city. Initially he had attempted to resolve the matter diplomatically, but meeting resistance in the end he decided to make an example of the Thebans. In this particular case, Alexander was employing the strategy of shock and awe not so much to crush the Theban revolt itself; rather, the destruction of Thebes was clearly intended to forestall any repetition of the Theban resistance on the part of other Greeks, and in particular of the Athenians, who had initially promised assistance to the Thebans (Diod. Sic. 17.8.5; Arr. Anab. 1.7.4; Din. 1.18), as had the Arcadians (Diod. Sic. 17.8.5–6; Arr. Anab. 1.10.1), the Eleans (Diod. Sic. 17.8.5; Arr. Anab. 1.10.1), and the Aetolians (Arr. Anab. 1.10.2). The destruction of Thebes was, therefore, designed to nip a far wider revolt in the bud. The Athenians were crucial to the king’s upcoming invasion of Asia. While his father had created a Macedonian fleet, it was insufficient for Alexander’s purposes. The Athenian fleet was necessary to counter that of the Persians and to protect and transport his forces to Asia.24 While the destruction of such a famous city was clearly to forestall any future resistance of his supposed Greek allies, Alexander also wished to preserve for posterity some plausible deniability for 24

See Roisman in this volume.

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices

69

the destruction of one of the great cities of Greece. The decision of what to do with the Thebans was given to those traditional enemies of the now defeated people who were present and had participated in this campaign. These all voted to destroy the city and to enslave those who had survived the assault. Alexander, “hoping to win their friendship,” had initially resisted assaulting the city, desiring a negotiated surrender (Arr. Anab. 1.7.7, 10–11; Diod. Sic. 17.9.3–4), but with the resistance and the speed of his victory, he saw the advantages of destroying the city. Even though officially Alexander only acquiesced to the decision of others, he could have prevented the destruction, and no one at the time doubted his practical responsibility. His passing the decision of Thebes’ fate to these allies was barely plausible deniability. The true lesson, however, was lost on no one. Resisting Alexander could prove fatal. It needs to be pointed out, however, that destroying a city and enslaving its inhabitants was not such an unusual occurrence in Greek warfare. What made the destruction noteworthy was the history and status of the city destroyed. In general, the Greek concept of war was that it was the definer of superiority and inferiority.25 To the victor went the right to do what the victor wished with the defeated. Alexander’s father Philip had destroyed a number of communities (Diod. Sic. 16.31.6, 34.4–5, 53.3; Dem. 1.9, 4.4, 9.26; Just. Epit. 7.6.13–16 8.3.11). Demosthenes (9.26) claims that in all Philip destroyed thirty-five cities in or near Thrace alone. The Thebans themselves had destroyed the cities of Plataea and Orchomenus (Arr. Anab. 1.9, 7.9).26 The Thebans and the Corinthians had urged the destruction of Athens at the conclusion of the Peloponnesian War. The Athenians were spared by the intervention of the Spartans (Xen. Hell. 2.2.19), who were likely most concerned that destroying Athens would create a power vacuum in central Greece that would be filled by the Thebans. If Thebes had surrendered without the assault, it is likely that all of those who had participated in the revolt would have been executed and additional reprisals inflicted on the survivors, but the city and most of its population likely would have survived. Now, however, the city was razed except for the Cadmea, which retained its Macedonian garrison, the city’s temples, and the house of the poet Pindar.27 The surviving population was enslaved except for the priests and priestesses, those who were bound to Philip or Alexander by the ties of hospitality or had been public agents of the Macedonians, and also the descendants of the poet Pindar (Arr. Anab. 1.9.9–10; Polyb. 5.10.6–8). 25 See Anson’s final chapter in this volume. 26 See Bosworth (1980) 88–89. 27 Polybius (5.10.6–8) compliments Alexander for his piety, taking out his anger on people, but not the gods, i.e., preserving the temples and the lives of the priests.

70

Anson

The destruction was further justified as punishment for Theban support of the Persians during the great invasion of 480–479 and thus fit in well with the Macedonian king’s war of revenge against the Persians. Any claim that Alexander was not responsible for the destruction is without merit. The Macedonian king knew what he was doing in turning the decision regarding Thebes over to those who had been that city’s enemies for years (Diod. Sic. 17.8.1, 5–6; Just. Epit. 11.2.7–9; Arr. Anab. 1.7.4, 10.1–2). While it is likely that Alexander was angry at the Theban actions, this decision was reached through cold reason. He saw the destruction of Thebes as the perfect instrument to forestall future revolts. Its destruction was a sign of the power of Macedonia and proof of the ruthlessness of the new Macedonian king. The one example was sufficient. Alexander had earlier attempted to terrorize the Thebans and others through his demonstration of potential power. The effect of his actions against Thebes was that the vast majority of the Greek world that was on the verge of revolt against Macedonia prior to the destruction of Thebes now remained peaceful until after Alexander’s death.28 The destruction of Thebes became a basic policy of the new Macedonian king. To resist meant destruction, to surrender survival and often largesse. Alexander’s destruction of the Phoenician city of Tyre, while there were strong strategic reasons for its siege and capture, was still a lesson for all those who would oppose him. In a speech to his commanders and officers, Arrian (Anab. 2.17) has Alexander emphasize that before the army could turn east against Darius it was necessary to eliminate every last vestige of Persian power in the West. After a siege of seven months (Diod. Sic. 17.46.5; Plut. Alex. 24.5),29 the city was captured by assault. Thirty thousand were enslaved; only those who had taken refuge in the Temple of Heracles (Melqart) were spared (Arr. Anab. 2.24.4–6).30 According to Curtius (4.4.17), 2,000 of the survivors, on Alexander’s order, were crucified. What was left of the city was resettled with people from the surrounding countryside and put under the authority of a Macedonian garrison (Curt. 4.5.9). With the capture of Tyre, Alexander now controlled the eastern Mediterranean coast.

28 The Spartan attempt to overcome Macedonian dominance in Greece 332/331 excluded the Greek world north of the isthmus and even many of those in the Peloponnesus, including the Messenians, the Megalopolitans, the Pellenians, the Corinthians, and the Argives (Aeschin. 3.165; Curt. 6.1.20; cf. Dem. 5.18). 29 Curtius (4.4.19) states that the siege lasted six months. 30 Curtius (4.4.16) reports 6,000 killed in the taking of the city, with 15,000 escaping to Sidon. With respect to the refugees, Atkinson (1980, 312) is likely correct that Curtius has here misinterpreted his source and that these 15,000 were taken to Sidon to be sold.

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices

71

The next city to be made an example of the consequences of resistance to Alexander was Gaza. This fortified city was the gateway to Egypt. The city resisted Alexander’s assault for two months, but in the end, it was taken (Arr. Anab. 2.26–27; Curt. 4.6.7–30; Diod. Sic. 17.48.7; Plut. Alex. 24.4–5). The surviving inhabitants, primarily women and children, were sold into slavery. The city remained intact but with a new population chosen from the surrounding population. Both Tyre and Gaza were to serve as examples of what awaited those who resisted. Certainly, Phoenicia remained loyal throughout Alexander’s reign and into those of his Successors. More importantly the Phoenician fleet gave the Macedonians control of the sea. Probably the most unusual use of shock and awe was Alexander’s destruction in the ceremonial Persian capital of Persepolis. Here, the destruction was in part to impress the recently defeated Persians but was more importantly to conclude the war of revenge against the Persians in a spectacular manner to impress on his Macedonian and Greek forces that the war of revenge was complete, and a new war of conquest was to begin.31 While neither Susa nor Ecbatana was plundered and their populations were not enslaved (Diod. Sic. 17.65.5; Arr. Anab. 3.16.6, 19.5–8; Curt. 5.2.8–16, 13.1), Alexander permitted his troops to sack Persepolis, except for the royal palace (Curt. 5.6.1–8; Diod. Sic. 17.70). The men were killed, the city plundered, and the women carried off into slavery. Curtius (5.6.1) has Alexander earlier proclaim to a council of his commanders that Persepolis was “the city from which troops without number had poured forth, from which first Darius and then Xerxes had waged an unholy war on Europe.” Therefore Alexander proclaimed that “to appease the spirits of their forefathers they should wipe it out.” Certainly, the theme of revenge is offered by the sources as an explanation for both the initial plundering of the city and the later partial destruction of the palace (Arr. Anab. 3.18.12; Diod. Sic. 17.70.2, 72.6; Curt. 5.6.1; Strabo, 15.3.6).32 It was also a message to recalcitrant Persians that their reign was over.33 The most consistent use of shock and awe by Alexander, however, was with respect to those populations with tribal, stateless, societies. Certainly, as Waldemar Heckel has pointed out, Alexander did have a fondness for “civilized”

31 Anson (2013) 156–57. 32 One indication of the symbolic nature of this assault was that this was a far more limited destruction than that found at Thebes, is seen in the fact that this Persian city is soon after not only found to be inhabited but serving as a satrapal capital (Diod. Sic. 19.21.2, 22.1, 46.6). The archaeological evidence indicates that only those buildings closely associated with Xerxes were burned; see Sancisi-Weerdenberg (1993) 181–82. 33 Briant (2002) 852.

72

Anson

lands, those with formal governmental organizations and cities.34 Alexander made demonstrations of ferocity and power against tribal groups, but seldom did he incorporate them into his growing empire. Alexander believed that these tribes could only be keep quiescent through operations in which there was a maximum of killing and destruction. In the spring of 335, after his accession to the Macedonian throne, Alexander moved to deal with the developing unrest among Macedonia’s tribal neighbors to the north, northwest, and east. These were to be campaigns to “thoroughly humble” these tribes (Arr. Anab. 1.1.4). Alexander first marched eastward, attacking those more nomadic, the so-called independent, Thracians who had not been conquered by his father.35 These Thracians occupied the northern mountainous regions of Thrace.36 In the confrontation, approximately 1,500 were killed, and all of the women and children who had accompanied the men were captured and enslaved (Arr. Anab. 1.1.13). This operation was mainly to terrify those who remained into quiescence. Alexander next marched north into the land of the Triballians, who occupied the lands south of the Danube. These likewise had not been subdued by Alexander’s father.37 The Triballians suffered 3,000 slain (Arr. Anab. 1.2). The Macedonian forces and their king now continued to the Danube. On the other side of the river awaited the Getae, “a Celtic people.”38 These tribesmen had formed an alliance with Philip in which the Macedonian king had married Meda, the daughter of their King Cothelas (Satyros F5 = Ath. 13. 557b–e; Jord. Get. 10.65), but clearly like the others in the region had not submitted to Macedonian authority. Alexander and a sizable force crossed at an unguarded point in a single night. Demoralized by Alexander’s crossing of the river and by the sight of the disciplined Macedonian phalanx, the opposing Getae quickly fled. As a result of these campaigns, representatives from the different peoples approached Alexander requesting alliances, which Alexander freely gave (Arr. Anab. 1.3.1–4.7; cf. Diod. Sic. 17.8.1). No territory was formally acquired, and the Macedonians withdrew from this now seemingly pacified area.39 The 34 Heckel (2003) 152–59. 35 See Bosworth (1980) 53–54. Griffith (HM2 456 n. 4) believes that Philip II had conquered all of Thrace up to the Danube River, but Bosworth (1980, 54) is likely correct that, while Macedonian influence was present, this area’s subjugation to Macedonian sovereignty was at best incomplete. 36 HM2 456. 37 Archibald (1998) 237. 38 Or Thracian, see Bosworth (1980) 61. 39 There was a revolt in Thrace during Alexander’s lifetime in 331 (Diod. Sic. 17.62.4–6). However, this was apparently a disagreement between Alexander’s commander in

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices

73

Triballians apparently did in some fashion become Macedonian dependents, with a contingent joining Alexander’s army for the invasion of Asia in 334 (Diod. Sic. 17.17.3–4). Alexander followed this campaign with an attack on Macedonia’s neighbors to the northwest, the Illyrians. Alexander defeated them with many killed or captured and the survivors fleeing into the northern mountains (Arr. Anab. 1.5.1–6.11; Diod. Sic. 17.8.1–2). The Illyrians did not attempt any operations against the Macedonians until after Alexander’s death and many of them accompanied him on his expedition (Diod. Sic. 17.17.4). Similar operations were conducted against other tribal peoples in Asia. In December of 331, when the branch of the Uxians who controlled the mountain passes between Susa and Persepolis, demanded that Alexander pay them for the right to move through their territory, Alexander attacked them. The Macedonian king plundered their villages and killed a great many. In the end, it was the Uxians who agreed to pay a yearly tribute to Alexander for the right to retain their lands (Arr. Anab. 3.17.1–6). Similarly in the winter of 324/323, Alexander attacked the Cossaeans, who controlled the lands connecting Babylon and Susa to Ecbatana. After killing many and enslaving many more, he forced their submission to his authority (Arr. Anab. 7.15.2–3; Diod. Sic. 17.111.4–6; Plut. Alex. 72.3). In the case of the Cossaeans and the Uxians, Alexander conquered these tribal areas which had operated with a great deal of independence under Persian authority (Arr. Anab. 7.15.2–3; Diod. Sic. 17.111.4–6; Plut. Alex. 72.3). Since both the Cossaeans and Uxians occupied crucial crossroads within the empire, Alexander not only terrified these tribes, but also, unlike with other nomadic groups, began the process of transforming them from nomads into farmers and city-dwellers (Arr. Ind. 40.8). When Alexander crossed the Tanais River (Syr Darya) on the northern border of Sogdiana, modern Kazakhstan, and attacked the nomadic Scythians in 329 (Arr. Anab. 4.4.4–5.1; Curt. 7.9), it was primarily to demonstrate his power and terrify others (Curt. 7.9.17–19). Alexander’s attack resulted in 1,000 Scythian dead and 150 captured (Arr. Anab. 4.4.8; cf. Curt. 7.9.16). Later, the Scythian king agreed to do whatever was required of him (Arr. Anab. 4.5.1: Curt. 7.9.17–18). Even though Arrian (Anab. 4.1.3) reports that Alexander envisioned a future invasion of Scythia, there was no such attack and given that Alexander after the suppression of the Sogdian and Bactrian rebellion continued to India, such a plan would appear to be unlikely. Alexander preferred brutal military demonstrations and, where necessary, military establishments along the borders Thrace, Memnon, and the king’s regent in Macedonia and supervisor of Greek affairs, Antipater (Anson 2013, 128–29).

74

Anson

of such populations as the Scythians, rather than attempting conquest. As to the effectiveness of shock and awe, perhaps the best answer would be to describe but one incident which reflects the reaction of most to the anticipation of Alexander’s displeasure. Once, when Bucephalus, Alexander’s famous warhorse, was lost, Alexander demanded of the local populace that the horse be returned, or he would kill everyone in the region. The horse appeared almost immediately (Arr. Anab. 5.19.6; Curt. 6.5.18–19; Diod. Sic. 17.76.5–8; Plut. Alex. 44.3–5). 2

Inner Front/Stability Operations

Inner Front or Stability Operations are not terms new to the discussion of operations to secure conquered or occupied populations. What is perhaps new is a modern view of how to accomplish such security. For example, the United States Defense Department defines such policies as operations designed to maintain or establish a safe and secure environment, provide essential government services and reconstruction, and deliver humanitarian relief in a former war zone with respect to the civilian population, in order to create a viable nation capable of sustaining itself.40 Successful stability operations are declared in most current military definitions as necessary for gaining the public’s acceptance of the new regime and the creation of peaceful relations.41 Under what has been called the Petraeus Doctrine, this involves “nation-building,” employing the incorporation of local leaders and institutions in the new order, one which reflects Western ideals and democratic principles.42 Alexander’s strategy with respect to creating peaceful acceptance of the “new order” appears to involve many of the tactics employed by the American General,43 but there are some notable differences. Alexander was creating a personal empire but Petraeus, as noted above, was hoping to create a Western-style government and then depart. While Alexander exchanged democracies for oligarchies in many of the Greek cities of Asia, this served a much different purpose from that of Petraeus. His authority was to remain. Moreover, one has only to read Alexander’s Chian decree (RO 84 A and B = SIG3 283 and SEG XXVII 506) to see that Alexander was 40 Headquarters, Department of the Army (2024) 71; Headquarters, Department of the Army (2012); United States Army/Marine Corps (2007) 2–22; Joint Warfare of the Armed Forces of the United States (2000) 1–02. 41 Headquarters, Department of the Army (2024) 71. 42 Petraeus (2006) 46–53. 43 Smith (2007).

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices

75

creating a democratic local government subject to his overarching authority.44 Alexander was not in the habit of creating independent viable states. His purpose was the creation of an empire of subservient subjects. General Fuller, perhaps, captures what might be called the Alexander Doctrine: This policy of conciliation was clearly premeditated, and it reveals that Alexander realized what so many statesmen forget: the goodwill of the civil population is the moral basis of military power. It follows from this that there are always two fronts in a war, an outer or physical front, the province of the general, and an inner, or psychological front, the province of the statesman. That on the former battles are fought with weapons, while on the latter they are fought with ideas enshrined in the policy the statesman adopts towards the enemy’s people. Should his policy be such that it progressively detaches them from their government—that is subverts their loyalty—then increasingly will the moral foundations of the enemy’s military power be undermined.45 While Fuller states that Alexander secured “the goodwill of the civil population,”46 Pierre Briant is closer to the mark: “Alexander was able to create the conditions for a balance between his own ambition and the [indigenous] nobility’s desire not to perish in the turmoil.”47 It has been pointed out, however, that Alexander, when faced with opposition, was equally capable of pursuing a policy of annihilation. Indeed, there are those who believe that the latter aspect of Alexander’s policy is the correct approach to such opposition. One American critic of the Petraeus policy has even declared it to be “military malpractice.” Edward Luttwak declared that “the hidden assumption here is that there is only one kind of politics in this world, a politics in which popular support is important or even decisive, and that such support can be won by providing better government.”48 Luttwak concludes: “All its best methods, all its clever tactics, all the treasure and blood … cannot overcome the crippling ambivalence of occupiers who refuse to govern, and their principled and 44 45 46 47

On the decree see Heisserer (1980) 79–83. Fuller (1960) 267. Fuller (1960) 267. Briant (2002) 870. While in dealing with the Greek cities of Asia “liberated” from Persian control Alexander commonly established democracies, this was not a policy pursued outside of Greek Asia. The Persians had routinely supported oligarchies in the Greek cities. Alexander supported those opposed to the oligarchs as a way of undermining Persian influence (Anson 2013, 130–31). 48 Luttwak (2007) 34.

76

Anson

inevitable refusal to out-terrorize the insurgents, the necessary and sufficient condition of a tranquil occupation.”49 In the case of Philip and Alexander both approaches can be seen in the father and son’s policies. One method used by both, as shown previously, is absolute destruction of recalcitrant peoples, both to end resistance and to discourage others from attempting to resist. Cities were destroyed and populations enslaved. Both individuals participated in what today would be called ethnic cleansing. Philip enslaved the conquered inhabitants of Potidaea (Diod. Sic. 16.8.5) and Pydna (Diod. Sic. 16.8.3; Dem. 1.5, 20.63), and those of Olynthus as well (Diod. Sic. 16.53.3; Dem. 8.40, 9.56, 19.265). In many of these cases, the enslaved population was replaced by Macedonian or other settlers.50 After the conclusion of the Fourth Sacred War, Philip invaded Phocis and, while he garrisoned those Phocian communities that voluntarily surrendered, those that resisted were razed to the ground with their populations sold into slavery (Dem. 18.39). Nor were these the only communities that suffered this fate (Dem. 18.182). Philip also transferred existing Macedonian populations from one area to another in order to bolster frontiers and create cities where there had only been villages before.51 With respect to both Philip and Alexander it might almost appear as if they had been reading from Machiavelli’s playbook, except that it was Machiavelli who was, in fact, commenting on what he saw as the effective policies of the Macedonian father and son. “He [the ruler] should destroy the old cities and build new ones and transfer the inhabitants from one place to another.”52 While Alexander has the reputation of a great founder of cities (and like his father the destroyer of several), Philip is also recorded as founding cities at key locations within his realm (Diod. Sic. 16. 71. 2; Dem. 8. 44; Str. 7. 6. 320c; [Theopompus] BNJ 115 F-110). Alexander created cities in the lands of his conquest, with most of these communities being located in central Asia, an area that had proven difficult to pacify, but garrisons were left throughout the empire. All of these urban foundations possessed sizable military cores made up chiefly of discharged Macedonians and Greek mercenaries (Arr. Anab. 3.25.1–7, 28. 2–3; Curt. 6.6.20–34, 7.3.2, 4.33–7; Diod. Sic. 17.81.3).53 Moreover, they were strategically placed. For example, Alexandria at Caucasus controlled the road leading to

49 50 51 52 53

Luttwak (2007) 42. Anson (2020) 78–79. Ellis (1969) 9–17. Machiavelli (2009) 1.26. See Anson (2013) 134–36.

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices

77

India (Diod. Sic. 17.83.1).54 Alexandria Eschate, built on the Taxais River (Syr Darya) on the borders of Sogdiana and Scythia, was a defensive bastion against the nomadic tribes north of the river (Arr. Anab. 4.1.3), and even Egyptian Alexandria, despite the lack of any specific notice of a military component here, had broad military implications.55 These communities, along with Alexander’s garrisons, were to be pockets of foreign troops safeguarding Alexander’s possession of these territories. As repugnant as these encroachments of foreigners often were to the local inhabitants, it is also clear they were equally so to those who were left to settle them. Twice, once in Alexander’s lifetime and once soon after his death, these settlers decided to abandon their new homes and return to Greece. The first group of 3,000 in 326/325 succeeded in doing so (Diod. Sic. 17. 99. 5–6; Curt. 9. 7. 1–11);56 the second much larger group of 23,000 in 323 was annihilated by forces of the royal army (Diod. Sic. 18. 7. 2–5). As noted earlier, the American General David Petraeus defined American overseas conflict operations as nation building. Philip did create a Macedonian nation out of a mixed population of peoples and despite the divisions that existed even within the ranks of those who regarded themselves as Macedonians.57 Here, Philip showed himself to be most adept at achieving stabilization. After his incorporation of the cantons of Upper Macedonia into his kingdom, there were no rebellions either during his reign or that of his son, and there is only one possible one during the later Antigonid dynasty.58 Philip’s achievement was the result of his successful defense of Macedonia against attacks from the northern tribes and from the southern Greek city-states. He had also, through his victory against the Illyrians and their supporters in the cantons of Upper Macedonia in 358, found himself in possession of large tracts of land taken from the Illyrians and their allies. These he distributed to numbers of his supporters in the aristocracy, but also to non-aristocratic Macedonians. Many of these 54 See Fraser (1996) 141 n. 69. 55 See Anson (2021) 1–23. 56 Schober (1981) 27–32; Holt (1989) 84–90; Vacante (2012) 115; Iliakis (2013); Brice in this volume. 57 See Anson (2020) 73–92. 58 While Bosworth (1971, 105) believes that resentment remained after the annexation and that it was ultimately responsible for Philip’s assassination, Diodorus Siculus (16.93.3–94.3) describes the murder as the result of a personal vendetta not the result of unrest in Upper Macedonia (see Anson 2020, 173–83). Polybius (18.47.6) hints that there was a rebellion in 197. He states that “they [the Romans] gave autonomy to the tribe called the Orestae for having joined them during the war.” Hatzopoulos (1996, 1.103) correctly calls this “a pious fiction invented by the Romans.” Even if true, this comes over a century and a half after the initial annexation and with very different circumstances than those that resulted from Philip’s annexation.

78

Anson

distributions were connected to urban centers. Where cities and a viable middle class had not existed before, Philip now created them. He transformed what had been by and large a rural society into one with an important urban core. This new middle class owed their status and their land to the king and their continued ownership was guaranteed by the monarchy.59 Prior to Philip the power of the ruler was limited by his utter dependence on the native Macedonian aristocracy. They supplied the king with his advisors, commanders, officers, and administrators. They were also the dominant element in the Macedonian army and, indeed, were some of the best cavalrymen in the Greek world. Philip used his new class of landowners to create Macedonia’s first heavy infantry. This new infantry, when combined with the Macedonian cavalry, made Philip’s new Macedonian army the best in the Western world. Additionally, this new middle class who owed their new status to the king now served as a loyal and powerful component in the power structure of the country.60 Perhaps Philip is most brilliant in his policy for the safeguarding of his new nation. After his victory over a Greek coalition at Chaeronea, instead of proceeding to an attack on the individual Greek states that would have resulted in sieges which, even if successful, would have created an active resistance to his authority, Philip summoned the various Greek states to a conference at Corinth, where he proposed a new peace which guaranteed the autonomy of the Greek signatories to the peace and also their recognition of his family’s rule in Macedonia.61 As with Philip, so with his son Alexander, one finds a combination of approaches to conquered populations. Only in Bactria and Sogdiana was there serious armed resistance to his authority once he had seemingly pacified these lands. Alexander’s general success in maintaining his authority in these conquered areas in most cases was in line with the claims of Fuller and Briant. As part of his attempt to win the loyalty of the conquered, Alexander, almost 59 Anson (2020) 76–77. 60 Anson (2020) 73–92. 61 The oath sworn by all members: “I swear by Zeus, Gaia, Helios, Poseidon and all the gods and goddesses. I will abide by the common peace and I will neither break the agreement with Philip, nor take up arms on land or sea, harming any of those abiding by the oaths. Nor shall I take any city, or fortress, nor harbor by craft or contrivance, with intent of war against the participants of the war. Nor shall I depose the kingship of Philip or his descendants, nor the constitutions existing in each state, when they swore the oaths of the peace. Nor shall I do anything contrary to these agreements, nor shall I allow anyone else as far as possible. But If anyone does commit any breach of the treaty, I shall go in support as called by those who need and I shall fight the transgressors of the common peace, as decided (by the council) and called on by the hegemon and I shall not abandon …” (RO 372–375). Of course, certain cities did have garrisons and after Chaeronea many had seen revolutions bring pro-Philip governments into power (Anson 2020, 144–48).

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices

79

without fail recognized local cultural and religious traditions, even directly participating in local religious and cultural practices throughout his dominions.62 He honored the Egyptian and Babylonian gods (Arr. Anab. 3.1.4, 16.3–4). Indeed, as among the Greek communities in Asia, so in many other areas of the former Persian Empire, such as Egypt and Babylonia, Alexander was viewed as a liberator and a respecter of native deities (Arr. Anab. 3.1.2, 16.3–4; Curt. 4.7.1–4, 5.1.19). When Alexander left Babylon, he was accompanied by a number of Babylonian priests who were present on the expedition to perform various rites (Plut. Alex. 57.4). His entourage also included Egyptian astrologers (Curt. 4.10.4). While it is claimed that Alexander repressed Persian Zoroastrianism,63 the evidence comes from late sources in the Sassanid period and is contested.64 Persian priests are associated with Alexander’s reconciliation banquet at Opis (Arr. Anab. 7.11.8), and Darius’ wife was buried according to “Persian custom” (Curt. 3.12.13; 4.10.23). Once in Persia itself, where liberation could not be used as a propaganda tool with the local population, Alexander included Persians in his personal entourage, began to adopt Persian dress, court procedure, and advisors, and increasingly incorporated Asians into his ever-growing army and administration.65 He would marry three eastern princesses, two of whom were Persian (Plut. Alex. 47.7–8; Diod. Sic. 17.107.6; Arr. Anab. 7.4.4),66 and oversee the mixed marriages of a wide assortment of officers and soldiers (Arr. Anab. 7.4.4–8). These marriages were performed according to Persian ceremony and more than 10,000 such unions were solemnized (Arr. Anab. 7.4.7–8). The only substantive evidence for Alexander’s suppression of Zoroastrianism found in our admittedly Western sources comes from his burning of the palace in Persepolis (Arr. Anab. 3.18.12; Diod. Sic. 17.70, 72.6; Curt. 5.6.1–8; Strabo 15.3.6).67 The later Sassanid claims that he killed magi and other members of the intelligentsia likely refer to the actual period of conquest itself, not to its aftermath, although in later tradition Alexander is called “the accursed.”68 Many died in the battles and many more in the atrocities so often connected to conquest, but deaths are not related to any attempt to eradicate the religion. With respect to the burning of the palace in Persepolis, it is very doubtful that Alexander’s intent with respect to the destruction had anything whatsoever to do with 62 So Fredricksmeyer (2003) 260. 63 Shahbazi (2003). 64 Boyce and Grenet (1991) 3–17. Much of the opposition to Macedonian rule occurred during the Seleucid Empire (Sherwin-White and Kuhrt 1993, 29–30). 65 Carney (1996/2015) 19–44; Anson (2015) 257–60; Brice and King in this volume. 66 On the polygamy of Macedonian kings, see Greenwalt (1989) 19–45. 67 But see the earlier discussion in this chapter. 68 Boyce (1979) 78.

80

Anson

religion.69 The burning was a deliberate act designed to end his war of revenge and to begin his new rule as “Lord of Asia” (Arr. Anab. 3.18.12; Strabo 15.3.6).70 Persepolis was “the city from which troops without number had poured forth, from which first Darius and then Xerxes had waged an unholy war on Europe” (Curt. 5.6.1), and it was Persepolis alone of the Persian capitals that suffered the brutality of a sack by Alexander’s army (Curt. 5.6.1–8; Diod. Sic. 17.70), which was followed subsequently by the burning of part of the palace. The other claimed example of religious oppression has more substance. In India in 325, Alexander savagely repressed the Brahmans, but this was prompted by their resistance to his authority (Arr. Anab. 6.7.4–6, 16.5: Diod. Sic. 17.102.6–70).71 If Stability Operations fail, the result could be what is often called in modern military parlance an “insurgency”. 3

Insurgency/Counterinsurgency Warfare/COIN

Insurgency is today a broadly defined term, generally describing “a state of revolt against constituted authority.” Insurgency and its counterpart counterinsurgency, the latter often simply abbreviated as COIN, would appear to have had a long history, being derived from the Latin verb, insurgo, insurgere, to rise up. While the word itself has Roman roots, it is not used in the modern sense until much later. Insurgency defined as a form of revolt or rebellion is most often claimed to have come into existence only in the nineteenth century with the anti-colonial movement, and modern theorists speak even of preinsurgency eras.72 While this use of the term insurgency is recent with respect to what is defined today as an insurgency, it is hardly new. The United States Defense Department declares that it is “the organized use of subversion and violence to seize, nullify, or challenge political control of a region,” and counterinsurgency is then “the comprehensive civilian and military efforts designed to simultaneously defeat and contain insurgency and address its root causes.”73 These strategies are often to oppose successfully what is termed Asymmetrical Warfare or what the opposition does to counter the superior military strength of the constituted authority. Asymmetrical warfare is frequently also referred to as guerrilla warfare. While such warfare 69 70 71 72 73

As Friedricksmeyer (2000) 144–49. See Anson (2013) 153–58. See Bosworth (1996) 94–97. On the definition and history of the term insurgency, see Becket (2001); Brice (2016) 8–12. United States Department of Defense (2021) 51, 106; for context see Brice (2016) 9–10.

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices

81

was conducted in antiquity,74 rebellions and revolts were commonly designated in the ancient manuals and in primary historical source descriptions as brigandage or banditry. Polybius’ assessment (14.12.5) of the two-decades-long Egyptian “war” against Ptolemaic rule as “witnessing neither pitched battle, sea fight, siege, or anything else worth recording” may indicate a general attitude in antiquity towards such operations. Certainly, the ability of non-state actors to inflict harm has increased measurably given modern weapons; however, terrorism administered by the state is certainly nothing new.75 Whether in the execution of captives or the sale of women and children into slavery, state terrorism is abundantly clear in antiquity.76 While the Sicarii (“robbers” according to Josephus 2.254) are an example of non-state terrorism by the modern definition, there are few other clear examples. For comparison, modern theorists have broken down what they see as types of insurgency which may require different approaches to their prevention and suppression. They speak of commercial, spiritual, liberation, separatist, warlord, source-based insurgencies, etc.77 Insurgencies have also been analyzed as going through stages.78 These distinctions might have existed in antiquity, but our sources do not provide sufficient information to make such determinations. Ancient war manuals are mostly concerned with conventional war of standing battles or with sieges. They do not address what modern theorists call insurgency under any corresponding label. They see warfare in the conventional sense of opposing armies on a battlefield. Polyaenus, however, does present a few stratagems related to the prevention of what could be described as insurgency (2.1.32; 7.11.7), but most of these really concern army mutinies (1.1.11; 2.9.57; 4.2.8, 6.6, 8.2; 7.22; 8.27). However, Agesilaus restored captives without ransom as a way to endear himself and thus avoid rebellion; Darius, by his supposed piety in offering a substantial reward for the discovery of the new Apis bull, won over the Egyptians against the potential rebels. These actions may be interpreted as applicable to some sort of general rule, but Polyaenus has not done so. It is also clear that slaves or suppressed classes such as the Spartan helots in particular did revolt, and Athenian subject cities did as well. The general absence of interest expressed by Polybius is also the case with Vegetius’ treatise on war. His instructions deal with regular engagements. He states that the flight 74 75 76

See the examples delineated in Howe and Brice (2016). With reference to Sparta and helots, see Millender (2016) 117–50. On state and non-state terrorism in the ancient world see Brice (2016) with copious citations. See also Müller, and Anson’s final chapter in this volume. 77 Bunker (2016) xii. 78 CIA (2011) 3.

82

Anson

of the enemy should be facilitated, since to do otherwise could encourage a fight to the death and fleeing troops can be easily pursued and exterminated (Mil. 3.21). This section could be interpreted as applying in the case of what are now called insurgents, getting them to see the hopelessness of their cause and hence causing their desertion of that cause, but this is a stretch. Other such works from antiquity ignore the issues of rebellion or insurgency more fully than even these authors. There is an implied consensus that war is the clash of armies. The practice of what is today called asymmetrical warfare, or guerrilla warfare, is seldom noted and no treatises exist from Greek and Roman antiquity offering ways to deal with it. Yet it certainly did exist and had to be dealt with. This was true whether one was engaged in a war with one’s slaves or attempting to hold on to an empire, whether it be the actions of the Spartans to suppress their helots or Caesar dealing with the “revolt” (deficio, deficere) of Vercingetorix in Gaul (Caes. BGall. 7.20.1). Certainly, the style of warfare today associated with the terms “guerrilla” or “hybrid” was not unknown. Herodotus (4.120) describes how the Scythians resisted the Persian invasion in 513, and Thucydides (3.97–98) describes the activities of the Aetolians to resist Demosthenes in the Peloponnesian War in 425. In the cases of Philip and Alexander, it was the latter who suffered what by modern definition could be termed an insurrection and who employed various strategies to crush it. In today’s current debate relating to counterinsurgency, there are two basic views, diametrically opposed to one another, as to how to deal with an insurrection. Both are directly connected to the opposing policies discussed earlier with respect to Stability Operations. One is based on the premise that “the moral purpose of combat operations is to secure peace” and counterinsurgency operations use “military forces to defeat enemies to establish civil security,”79 the other is to crush the opposition through whatever means necessary.80 Philip, as has been pointed out, succeeded in incorporating the Upper Macedonian cantons most successfully, thus avoiding an “insurrection” then or later. Those areas that were annexed to the Kingdom of Macedonia were secured through the destruction of those resistant to this expansion and their places were taken by the movement of other peoples into these areas. Alexander was also most often successful in his ability to maintain authority in those regions brought under his control. The one great “rebellion” against his assumed authority took place in Sogdiana and Bactria in 329. While 79 United States Army/Marine Corps (2007) 7–26. 80 Luttwak (2007) 42. On recent debates over counterinsurgency (COIN) policy see Brice (2016) 5–6 and nn. 7–8.

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices

83

Alexander practiced what modern military strategists would conclude were highly successful stabilization operations through his recognizing and supporting local institutions, restoring security and infrastructure, and the incorporation of local leaders, his asserted right to the satrapies of Bactria and Sogdiana was challenged.81 Indeed, it is claimed that it was Alexander’s departure from his earlier policies regarding local elites in part that led to this conflict.82 These lands revolted from Alexander’s claimed authority soon after their relatively peaceful acquisition, and it took Alexander two years to suppress the revolt. Here Alexander faced a combination of settled communities and nomadic pastoralists. He dealt initially with what he saw as defiance of his authority by massacre, destruction, and enslavement on a wide scale (Arr. Anab. 3.30.10–11; 4.2.4–3.5, 6.5; Curt. 7.6.1–10, 16–27). At the very beginning, he captured seven Sogdian cities where, on Alexander’s express orders, all captured men were slaughtered, and the women and children enslaved (Arr. Anab. 4.2.2–6; Curt. 7.6.16). According to Diodorus Siculus (17.2.23), 120,000 were killed. Some 2,000 captured “rebels” were even whipped and crucified, if Curtius is to be believed (7.11.28). To deal with popular support for the insurgents, Alexander ordered his troops to burn fields and kill all those of military age (Curt. 7.9.22). The brutality did produce some results. Many of the peasants no longer offered sanctuary to the rebels (Curt. 8.2.15), and the leader of the revolt, Spitamenes, was killed by some of his own troops, who then delivered his head to Alexander as a 81 Howe (2016, 159–62) has argued that this was not an insurgency but rather “a war of resistance.” From the point of view of the Sogdians and the Bactrians, Howe is likely correct. The evidence, however, is that Alexander saw this as more akin to the modern definition of insurgency. Arrian (Anab. 3.29.1; cf. Curt. 7.5.1) reflecting Alexander’s view of the situation reports that after capturing Aornus and Bactra Alexander appointed Artabazus as satrap, to govern the Bactrians “who readily adhered to him [Alexander].” However, to Howe’s point, one individual’s terrorist could be seen as another’s freedom fighter. It all depends on one’s perspective. There can be little doubt to which view Alexander adhered. 82 On the various causes offered, see Briant (2002) 76, 746; Holt (1989) 39–43, 54–56; Bosworth (1996) 17–18; Vacante (2012) 88. These include Alexander’s proposed congress of the hyparchs in Zariaspa-Bactria, the appointment of Artabazus as satrap, who had no connection to the region; inadequate rewards for those who surrendered Bessus, the founding of Alexandria Eschate and the placement of garrisons implying a large and permanent presence of the foreigners, or simply “they were terrified by Alexander” (Arr. Anab. 4.1.5). Bosworth suggests given the broad nature of the resistance or rebellion that it was simply the result of the “numerous annoyances” (I would suggest atrocities may be a better term) of Alexander’s army. This was a large force that necessarily consumed much from the land it passed through, and armies in general and especially those who believe the indigenous population is inferior can be rapacious in other ways (cf. Arist. Pol. 1255a 24–31; Isoc. 12.163).

84

Anson

peace offering (Arr. Anab. 4.17.7; Strabo 11.11.6).83 However, despite the brutality hostilities continued. By 328, the Macedonian monarch was relying on a combined policy of destroying his enemies (Arr. Anab. 4.16.2–3; Curt. 8.1.1), placing garrisons in every Bactrian and Sogdian town (Arr. Anab. 4.17.4), but also opening negotiations with various elements of the opposition. Alexander even married the daughter of a prominent Sogdian nobleman (Arr. Anab. 4.18.4–5, 19.5, 20.4; cf. Curt. 7.11.28–9). Additionally, he was recruiting Bactrian and Sogdian cavalry into his forces (Arr. Anab. 4.17.3), and large numbers are later found in Alexander’s army in India (Arr. Anab. 5.11.3, 12.2), “serving simultaneously as hostages and soldiers” (Curt. 8.5.1). While the campaign continued, Alexander’s alliances with prominent noblemen in the area began to bear fruit. After almost two years of brutal repression, these alliances brought the revolt to an end. It is estimated that over 100,000 Bactrians and Sogdians, including women and children, were dead.84 Seven thousand Macedonians also died.85 As noted, both Philip and Alexander secured conquered areas by moving Macedonians or those simply loyal to the regime into these lands. However, this often involved the enslavement or extermination of the people who had previously inhabited these areas. A clear case where ancient practice has influenced modern counterinsurgency theory negatively is found in the practice commonly called ethnic cleansing. Here, either through massacre or transfer, indigenous populations are removed from their homes and replaced with others. The transfer of populations was used by the Assyrians, the Chaldaeans, and others as a way to weaken the ties to place that so often created a common sense of ethnicity which in turn could lead to rebellion.86 Separating people from the lands and tombs of their ancestors, regional gods, and the local traditions connected to their previous homes would be traumatic (cf. Just. Epit. 8.5.7–12). In a study of population transfers during the Greek Civil War (1946–1949) the author declares that one “recipe for success” in controlling a population, if that is the sole desired requirement, may indeed be the transfer of local people from their homes.87 It is reported that in the papers found after Alexander’s death listing the Conqueror’s future plans, one of these was for a massive 83 Curtius (8.3.8–16) states that he was murdered by his own wife, who brought his head to Alexander. 84 Holt (2012) 107. 85 Holt (2003) 14, (2012) 107. 86 Oded (1979); Na’aman (1993) 117. 87 Plakoudas (2016).

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices

85

exchange of populations from Europe to Asia and from Asia to Europe (Diod. Sic. 18.4.4). 4

Conclusion

The ultimate question is whether using modern constructs to interpret ancient practices brings enlightenment to the subject or misrepresentation. Conquest and nation building are certainly not new, but clearly context is important. However, many of the same problems, whether one is nation building or engaged in physical conquest, do appear and the attempts to rectify them do possess some consistency over time. So, while times do change and added military technology and modern sensibilities seemingly should alter outcomes, nevertheless, with all the modern technology, the similarities with the past remain. It has even been argued that today’s military too often lacks a historical perspective that would inform more successful outcomes. In light of the practices employed by both Philip and Alexander, it might be just as well that they do not look to the past for inspiration. Works Cited Anson, E. M. (2013) Alexander the Great; Themes and Issues. New York. Anson, E. M. (2015) Eumenes of Cardia: A Greek among Macedonians, 2nd edn. Leiden. Anson, E. M. (2020) Philip II, the Father of Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues. New York. Anson, E. M. (2021) “The Foundation of Alexandria.” International Journal of Military History and Historiography. Advance online publication: 1–23. Archibald, Z. H. (1998) The Odrysian Kingdom of Thrace. Orpheus Unmasked. Oxford. Atkinson, J. E. (1980) A Commentary on Q. Curius Rufus’ Historiae Alexandri Magni, Books 3 and 4. Amsterdam. Atkinson, J. E. and Yardley, J. C. (2009) Curtius Rufus, Histories of Alexander the Great, Books 3 and 4. Amsterdam. Bosworth, A. B. (1971) “Philip II and Upper Macedonia.” CQ 21.1: 93–105. Bosworth, A. B. (1980) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander, Books I–III. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1996) Alexander and the East: The Tragedy of Triumph. Oxford. Boyce, M. (1979) Zoroastrians: Their Religious Beliefs and Practices. New York. Boyce, M. and Grenet, E. (1991) A History of Zoroastrianism: Zoroastrianism under Macedonian and Roman Rule. Leiden.

86

Anson

Briant, P. (2002) From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire. Trans. P. T. Daniels. Winona Lake, IN. Brice, L. L. (2016) “Insurgency and Terrorism in the Ancient World, Grounding the Discussion,” in Howe and Brice (2016) 3–27. Bunker, R. J. (2016) Old and New Insurgency Forms. Carlisle, PA. Cameron, A. and Kuhrt, A. (eds) (1993) Alexander the Great: Reality and Myth. Rome. Carney, E. D. (1996/2015) “Macedonians and Mutiny: Discipline and Indiscipline in the Army of Philip and Alexander.” CPh 91: 19–44; republished in Carney (2015) 27–59. Carney, E. D. (2015) King and Court in Ancient Macedonia: Rivalry, Treason and Conspiracy. Swansea. Ellis, J. R. (1969) “Population Transplants by Philip II.” Makedonika 9: 9–17. Ellis, J. R. (1976) Philip II and Macedonian Imperialism. London. Fraser, P. M. (1996) Cities of Alexander the Great. Oxford. Fredricksmeyer, E. A. (2003) “Alexander’s Religion and Divinity,” in Roisman (2003) 253–378. Fuller, J. F. C. (1960) The Generalship of Alexander the Great. New Brunswick, NJ. Greenwalt, W. (1989) “Polygamy and Succession in Argead Macedonia.” Arethusa 22: 19–45. Hatzopoulos, M. B. (1996) Macedonian Institutions under the Kings, 2 vols. Paris. Headquarters, Department of the Army (2012) “Stability Techniques,” in Army Tech­ niques Publications. Washington, DC. Headquarters. Department of the Army (2024) “Military Definitions,” in United States Army Field Manual. No. 1-02.1 Washington, DC. Heckel, W. (2003) “Alexander and the ‘Limits of the Civilised World’,” in Heckel and Tritle (2003) 147–74. Heckel, W. and Tritle, L. A. (eds) (2003) Crossroads of History: The Age of Alexander. Claremont, CA. Heisserer, A. J. (1980) Alexander the Great and the Greeks: The Epigraphic Evidence. Norman, OK. Holt, F. L. (1989) Alexander the Great and Bactria: The Formation of a Greek Frontier in Central Asia. Mnemosyne 104, Supplementum. Leiden. Holt, F. L. (2003) Alexander the Great and the Mystery of the Elephant Medallions. Berkeley. Holt, F. L. (2012) Into the Land of Bones: Alexander the Great in Afghanistan. Berkeley. Howe, T. (2016) “Alexander and ‘Afghan Insurgency’: A Reevaluation,” in Howe and Brice (2016) 151–82. Howe, T. and Brice, L. L. (eds) (2016) Brill’s Companion to Insurgency and Terrorism in the Ancient Mediterranean. Warfare in the Ancient Mediterranean World 1. Leiden. Iliakis, M. (2013) “Greek Mercenary Revolts in Bactria: A Re-appraisal.” Historia 62.2: 182–95.

Modern Military Terminology and Ancient Practices

87

Luttwak, E. N. (2007) “Dead End: Counterinsurgency Warfare as Military Malpractice.” Harper’s Magazine 314: 33–42. Machiavelli, N. (2009) Discourses on Livy. Trans. J. C. Bondanella. Oxford. Millender, E. G. (2016) “Spartan State Terror: Violence, Humiliation, and the Reinforce­ ment of Social Boundaries in Classical Sparta,” in Howe and Brice (2016) 117–50. Na’aman, N. (1993) “Population Changes in Palestine following Assyrian Deportations.” Tel Aviv 20: 104–24. Oded, B. (1979) Mass Deportations and Deportees in the Neo-Assyrian Empire. Wiesbaden. Petraeus, D. H. (2006) “Learning Counterinsurgency: Observations from Soldiering in Iraq.” Military Review. Special Edition Counterinsurgency Reader. Leavenworth, KS. Plakoudas, S. (2016) “Population Transfers in Counter-Insurgency: A Recipe for Success?” Small Wars & Insurgencies 27: 681–701. Roisman, J. (ed) (2003) Brill’s Companion to Alexander the Great. Leiden. Sancisi-Weerdenberg, H. (1993) “Alexander and Persepolis,” in Cameron and Kuhrt (1993) 177–88. Sherwin-White, A. and Kuhrt, A. (1993) From Samarkand to Sardis: A New Approach to the Seleucid Empire. Berkeley. Schober, L. (1981) Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Babyloniens und der Oberen Satrapien von 323–302 v. Chr. Frankfurt. Shahbazi, A. S. (2003) “Iranians and Alexander.” AJAH 2: 5–38. Smith, P. P. (2007) “Eating Soup with a Sarissa: 10 Insurgency Prevention and Counter­ insurgency Lessons from a Comparative Analysis of Operation Iraqi Freedom and Alexander the Great’s Inner Front Strategies.” MA Thesis, Air Command and Staff College, Air University. Ullman, H. R., and Wade, J. P. (1996) Shock and Awe: Achieving Rapid Dominance. Washington, DC. United States Department of Defense. (2021) DOD Dictionary of Military and Associated Terms. U. S. Army and Marine Corps (2007) The U. S. Army * Marine Corps Counterinsurgency Field Manual. Chicago. Vacante, S. (2012) “Alexander the Great and the ‘Defeat’ of the Sogdianian Revolt.” AHB 26: 67–130.

Chapter 4

Philip’s and Alexander’s Naval Warfare Joseph Roisman 1

Philip and the Sea: 353–340 BCE

Philip II has been called the founder of a considerable and competent Mace­ donian sea power.1 This section seeks to modify that view. Macedonia was rich in naval resources such as timber and pitch and in naval manpower from port towns that Philip controlled around Macedonia, Thrace and Thessaly.2 Yet there was little in Philip’s naval force that would have made him proud. The evidence for his naval power and warfare is defective. Much of it comes from hostile Athenian orators, and it is generally disjointed, at times unreliable, and woefully incomplete. Nevertheless, there is enough to show that it was only after the battle of Chaeronea (338) that Philip could claim maritime hegemony (though he may not actually have had it). The following is an attempt to reconstruct the history of Philip’s maritime forces and activities in chronological order. The nature of the evidence makes it an episodic story. Philip’s fleet is first mentioned in the context of his campaign in 353 against the cities of Abdera and Maronea on the Thracian coast. After raiding their lands, he turned back, perhaps following a call for help from his Thessalian ally, Larissa. The Roman-era collector of stratagems, Polyaenus, tells that Philip had many ships and a large army. Having learned that the Athenian general Chares lay in wait for him near Neapolis with twenty triremes, Philip selected his four fastest ships, manned them with his best rowers, and sent them ahead as bait. Chares chased them unsuccessfully into the open sea, and Philip sailed on in safety with the rest of the fleet.3 The story’s credibility is uncertain because it resembles other stereotypical tales of Philip’s avoiding battle through trickery, with Chares as his favorite victim (below). Polyaenus does not tell the number 1 Berve (1926) 1: 158–59; Hauben (1975) 59; Hammond (1992) 35. All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated. 2 Macedonia’s timber and pitch: e.g., Borza (1995) 37–56; RO 54–55; Krathanasis (2019). Manpower: Hauben (1975) 53; Griffith in HM2, 310–12. 3 Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.22; cf. Dem. 23.183. Larissa’s request for aid: Goldsworthy (2020) 96–97; cf. Ellis (1976) 77–78.

© Joseph Roisman, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_006

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Naval Warfare

89

of Philip’s ships, how many warships they included, or his original plans for them. Acceptance of the account, however, supposes that Philip intended his fleet to prevent aid to Abdera and Maronea from the sea, or to protect his army from Chares’ ships. The ratio of Philp’s “many ships” to Chares’ twenty triremes also suggests that Philip had little faith in the ability of his naval force to overcome the enemy. Indeed, the four fast ships and their crews that he sent ahead may have exhausted the pool of his good ships and manpower.4 In 352/1 Demosthenes gave a speech in the Athenian Assembly known as the First Philippic (Dem. 4). Although Philip had won military successes and influence in the Thermaic Gulf, Thessaly, and Thrace, many Athenians regarded him as a distant danger at worst. Demosthenes tried to persuade them to act against the king, a course that he presented as both effective and not too demanding. Among his suggestions was to send a force that would keep Philip continuously occupied with defending Macedonia and its neighbors. It would consist of 2,000 infantry, 200 cavalry, cavalry transporters and ten “fast” (i.e., high quality) triremes: “because Philip has a fleet, we need fast ships if our force is to sail safely.”5 Scholars have unconvincingly deduced from Demosthenes’ (failed) proposal to send out a small Athenian fleet that Philip’s navy must have been equally small.6 The launching of an Athenian fleet reflected the Athenians’ resources, motivation, and political and international circumstances at the time, not their intelligence about the enemy.7 Demosthenes’ proposal to send ten fast ships was intended to be feasible and to win approval, and their proposed task of protecting the expeditionary force does not necessarily expect a full confrontation with Philip’s entire fleet. There is little to learn, then, from Demosthenes’ military plan about the size and competence of Philip’s navy. More informative are Demosthenes’ other statements in the same speech (Dem. 4.34). He charges Philip with attacking Athenian allies at sea and with raiding Athenian settlements on Lemnos and Imbros. He also captured cargo ships at Geraestus and Euboea and an Athenian sacred trireme at Marathon. 4 Hammond (1992, 32–33) forces Polyaenus’ text to mean that Philip’s ships were all penteconters (fifty rowers) and triaconters (thirty rowers), but in a later publication (1994, 47) he adds some merchantmen, and see also Ellis (1976) 76. For Philip’s plans for his fleet, see Griffith in HM2, 266. Bianco (2002, 14) suggests that the fleet was built on resources that came with the capture of Potidaea and Amphipolis. 5 Dem. 4.21–22. For the speech and its date, see MacDowell (2009) 210–18; Worthington (2013) 116–22. 6 Hauben (1975) 54; Griffith in HM2, 311; Trevette (2011) 76, n. 22; Goldsworthy (2020) 115. 7 Pace Griffith in HM2, 311–12; Hammond (1992) 33, who gives Philip forty triremes based on the size of the Athenian expedition.

90

Roisman

Demosthenes presents Philip’s actions as harmful and humiliating in order to move the Athenians to oppose him. He also describes them as piratical acts aimed at financing Philip’s war against Athens. We may accept the historicity of Philip’s raids but not Demosthenes’ hostile characterization of them.8 The accusation of piracy, even against states and their agents, was a common slander that criminalized their activity and legitimized fighting them. Anti-Philip propaganda presented him as a pirate who preyed on merchants, states, and even the whole of Greece.9 Philip and other Macedonians may have engaged in piracy (e.g., Aeschin. 2.12), but they were also its victims, a duality that characterized many other Greek contemporaries, including Athens.10 Secondly, there is no need to join Demosthenes in viewing Philip’s raids as making war on Athens through other means.11 Philip was a high spender, in constant need of money, and often financed his next operation with the gains from raiding.12 In 347, the Athenian politician Timarchus proposed a decree that punished with death anyone who supplied Philip with arms and trireme equipment in time of war (Dem. 19.286–87). We know from other sources that Philip built and repaired triremes, though not how many.13 How powerful was his naval force? In the speech On the False Embassy, Demosthenes claims that in 346 Philip sued for peace with Athens because his country was being plundered by pirates, his ports were blocked, and he was losing revenue. The king’s inability to stop the depredations suggests that his fleet was failing to protect Macedonia’s maritime trade and harbors.14 The small island of Halonnesus in the central Aegean was simultaneously claimed by Philip, Athens, and the island of Peparethus. In his letter to the Athenians in 340/39, Philip states that he took the island from pirates, led by one Sostratus (probably in 345/4), and that he made it safe for sailing.15 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

For raiding the islands, see also Aeschin. 2.72; [Dem.] 59.3. Hammond (1992, 32) dates Philip’s actions to 353–51, and Griffith (HM2, 311) to 352/1. Demosthenes says nothing about the number and type of Philip’s ships. E.g., Dem. 4.34; 10.34, 18.139; Just. Epit. 8.3.13 (dating his piracy since 348), 9.1.1; Orosius 3.13.1; de Souza (1999) 36–37. Dem. 4.23; 12.5; cf. Dem. 8.9, 24–28. Philip as pirates’ victim: Buckler (1996) 384–86. De Souza (1999) 31–41 on state-backed piracy and the thin line separating it from war. Piracy as a slander: cf. Goldsworthy (2020) 120. Worthington (2013) 168–69. Timarchus’ proposal: Dem. 19.286–87. Its date and background: Griffith in HM2, 331–32. Hammond (1992) 33–34. Philip’s naval construction: [Dem.] 7.16 and below. Piracy in Macedonia: Dem. 19.315. Its date: Buckler (1996) 385. MacDowell (2000, 344) identifies the pirates as based on the island of Halonesus and led by Sostratus, whom Philip fought in 345–44 (below). [Dem.] 12.13. Dates: Worthington (2008) 211; MacDowell (2000) 344, (2009) 343–44. It is generally assumed that Philip expelled the pirates, but he could have equally enslaved, killed, or held them for a ransom.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Naval Warfare

91

Although Philip would later offer Athens a share in the fight against pirates ([Dem.] 7.14), there is no need to regard his action at Halonnesus as part of a larger policy. Charges of piracy could be questionable (above), and even if they were sincere in this case, not even Philip linked his action against Sostratus to a grander strategy. He was simply suffering from pirates’ attacks and wished to stop them and profit from their capture. More relevant to this investigation is the apparently minimal role of Philip’s fleet in taking the island. The fleet is not even mentioned as part of the war with the pirates, whose strength lay in their fortified bases ([Dem.] 7.3, 12). Philip probably used his ships to transport troops and perhaps equipment to besiege the pirates’ nests. Demosthenes’ Second Philippic, delivered in 344/3, includes accusations that Athenian politicians had deceived the people and allowed Philip to violate the Peace of Philocrates. The orator describes a frightening scenario in which Philip could win a naval victory, attack Attica with his fleet, and march with an army through Thermopylae and Phocis (Dem. 6.36). The description should not be taken as an indication of Philip’s naval capabilities, because even Demosthenes half-concedes that a Macedonian maritime threat to Athens was unrealistic. Indeed, throughout the speech, Demosthenes dwells on Philip’s danger to Athens on land, including an invasion. In a speech to the Athenian Assembly in 343/2, probably authored by the anti-Macedonian orator Hegesippus, the speaker charged that Philip’s offer to share the policing of the seas with Athens was a shameful coverup of his ambition to maritime empire. It allowed him to insult Athens, display its weakness, and rob it of allies. For those who were skeptical of Philip’s naval designs, Hegesippus pointed to Philip’s construction of triremes and docks and his launching of maritime expeditions at great expense.16 Like Demosthenes, Hegesippus used rhetorical scare tactics to induce the Athenians into believing that Philip was a threat (in this case, to their maritime supremacy). In fact, his offer to give the island of Halonessus to Athens suggested anything but thalassocratic ambitions. Unaided by Athens, the king’s fleet was simply not large or effective enough to deal with piracy.17 In 340, Alcinus, the first named admiral in Macedonian history, plundered the island of Peparethus (northeast of Euboea). Philip had a score to settle with the islanders, who had seized Halonnesus after he rid it of pirates (above). In his letter to the Athenians, he justified his action as a punishment of Peparethus’ violation of the Common Peace and for disgracing him. None of his reasons suggested a desire for maritime hegemony or confidence in his 16 [Dem.] 7.8, 14–17. Hegesippus as the speaker: MacDowell (2009) 343–44. 17 See, however, Hammond (1992) 34. Murray (2008, 36) deduces from coinage of Histiaea that the Athenian success in driving Philip out of Euboea in 342 included a naval victory.

92

Roisman

naval power. Indeed, Alcinus’ looting of Peparethus resembled other raids attributed to Philip.18 2

Philip and the Sea: 340–336

Philip spent the summer of 340 and spring of 339 attacking Perinthus and Selymbria on the Thracian coast and Byzantium on the Bosporus. The sources on the campaign are fragmented, not always clear about circumstances and chronology, and sometimes inattentive to the role and performance of the Macedonian navy. Yet it was a campaign in which the Macedonian fleet was more active than usual. Demosthenes and his commentator Didymus argued that Philip fought Perinthus and Byzantium to gain control over the grain supply from the Black Sea to Athens and to prevent both cities from offering anchor and shelter to Athens in its war with Philip.19 Both authors’ claims reflect an Atheno-centric perspective that ignores Philip’s local interests, which were independent of his struggle with Athens. They inaccurately attribute goals to him in hindsight. Philip besieged Byzantium not by a preconceived plan but because it had interfered with his siege of Perinthus, which was not even on the route of the grain traffic to Athens. There is no need to look for the original goal of the campaign beyond the wish to make Perinthus a subject or ally. Philip commanded an army of 30,000, but the size and composition of his fleet is unknown and its original whereabouts uncertain. It has been suggested that he recalled the fleet from Peparethus (above) after failing to stop the arrival of foreign aid to Perinthus by sea. A fragment of the historian Philochorus, however (cited by Dionysius of Halicarnassus), suggests that he left Macedonia with the fleet: “Philip, after first sailing up (anapleusas) against Perinthus, attacked (it).”20 It was not smooth sailing. In Philip’s letter to the Athenians, written later in the campaign, he complains that he had to use his army to protect his navy from Athenian settlers in the Chersonese (probably 18 Schol. Dem. 18.70; [Dem.] 12.12–15; cf. Dem. 18.70. Griffith in HM2, 553, 566 suggests that Peparethus was Athens’ ally. Ellis (1976, 175) proposed that the operation was designed to discourage the Athenians from taking their normal route sailing north. Yet the Macedonians only plundered the island and did not turn it into a base of operation. 19 Dem. 18.87; Didymus Col. 10.34–11.5 = Philochorus BNJ 328 F 162. 20 Philochorus BNJ 328 F 54. The size of Philip’s army: Diod. Sic. 16.74.5. Gabriel (2010, 92) speculates that the fleet numbered twenty to thirty ships. Taking the army with the fleet from Macedonia: Hammond (1994) 131–32. Fleet arriving from Peparethus only later: Wüst (1938) 127–35; Ellis (1976) 176–77; Murray (2008) 37; cf. Hauben (1975) 55.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Naval Warfare

93

until the ships reached friendly Cardia). It is easy to assume that the settlers themselves fought off the Macedonian raids, unaided by the Athenian general Chares, who was stationed with a fleet in the Hellespont. Chares might have thought it too risky to fight both the Macedonian navy and army in the Chersonese. Perinthus was dispensable and not even an Athenian ally, while at this stage nobody, not even Philip, thought that the campaign would be extended to Byzantium. Philip tried to take credit for Athens’ inaction by saying that he avoided taking on Athenian fleets and territories even though he could. It was an empty boast: in the Chersonese, his ships needed the army to protect them.21 It is indicative of the fleet’s secondary importance to the land forces that the sources say nothing about its contribution to the sieges of Perinthus, Selymbria, and Byzantium. It may have transported siege equipment and defended the besiegers from seaborne attacks (which never came). In other words, it did nothing that could decide the conflict. At Perinthus, Philip’s efforts focused on the land siege and urban combat. The Perinthians asked for and received substantial aid from Byzantium and later from Persian satraps in Asia Minor. It came in the form of troops, artillery, other war materials, and money, but no ships, suggesting that they were unnecessary. It is unknown if the aid arrived by sea or land or both. I assume that the Macedonian fleet was present, but that neither Philip’s ships nor his army could stop the flow of aid to the Perinthians.22 Philip broadened the campaign to Byzantium because of its assistance to Perinthus, and because of the former city’s riches and strategic value. For this effort he diverted half the army and probably most of his fleet. On the way to Byzantium, he besieged Selymbria. It was then or during the siege of Byzantium that he enjoyed the greatest success of the campaign and of all his naval operations, capturing a large number of grain ships on their way to Athens.23 21 Philip’s letter: [Dem.] 12.11, 16. Athenian fleet in the Hellespont: IG II2 1628, l. 420; 1629. l. 941; Bianco (2002) 22. See also Griffith in HM2, 570–71; Hammond (1994) 131–32. Hammond (1992, 35) does not explain how he estimates that Philip’s fleet consisted of thirty or more warships, mostly triremes and the rest penteconters. Both its size and composition are unknown. 22 Siege of Perinthus and foreign aid: Diod. Sic. 16.74–76.4; Paus. 1.29.5; cf. Arr. Anab. 2.14.5. See above for the view that Philip called the navy after the aid arrived. 23 The sources on the siege of Selymbria and its link to the capture of the ships are of questionable reliability: Schol. on Dem. 18.76; Hypothesis to Dem. 11, which Wüst trusts selectively: (1938) 129–40. Investing Selymbria on the way to Byzantium: e.g., Ellis (1976) 178; Griffith in HM2, 575, n.3; Worthington (2008) 132. Cf. Just. Epit. 9.1.5–6 on the ships’ capture.

94

Roisman

The ships had assembled at Hieron on the Asian side of the straits of Bosporus and about twenty-five kilometers north of Byzantium. The Athenian general Chares was supposed to escort them to Athens with a fleet that is attested to have included forty ships in later times.24 The convoy was delayed, however, when Chares was called to a meeting with Persian commanders in Asia Minor. When Philip found out about the ships and Chares’ absence, he sent his fleet to take them, failing in the initial attack and then probably using his ships to transport troops to Hieron, who accomplished the mission. The number of captured vessels is differently reported. Philochorus mentions 230 cargo ships, Theopompus 180, and Justin and Orosius 170. Philip later returned captured ships to the Byzantines and their Rhodian, Chian and Coan allies (below). Scholars have suggested that he gave back fifty ships, which when deducted from Philochorus’ 230 give Theopompus’ 180. The sale of their cargo of grain and hides was profitable, amounting to the huge sum of 700 talents. Philip also took the ships apart and used their timber to build war machines.25 The capture of the ships was not part of a plan to starve or blockade Athens. Not even Demosthenes claims as much when he mentions it (Dem. 18.73). Nor was it a provocation to war with Athens, because the two sides were already at war, formally or informally.26 The king was interested primarily in the booty, as in his other raids. In spite of the ancient stereotyping of Philip as greedy or needy, his opponents were better financed, especially after they or Perinthus received financial help from Persia.27 Philip’s use of the navy to capture the grain ships, then, was more instrumental than strategic. Moreover, the fleet performed poorly. Its failure to overcome Chares’ warships suggests that Chares’ absence did not make much of a difference, at least on the sea. It is unknown how Philip’s land forces won against the Athenian triremes, some of which were presumably beached or idle by the shore. Philip’s recycling of their timber into war machines, instead of adding the triremes to his navy, reveals his priorities and his small expectations of his fleet.28 24 Chares’ fleet: Philochorus BNJ 328 F 162; Hesychius of Miletus BNJ 390 F 7.28. Diod. Sic. 16.77.2 and Porphyry of Tyre, FHG III 692 F 1, describe his fleet as large. 25 Philochorus FGH 328 F 162; Theopompus (BNJ 115 F 292); Didymus col. 10. 55–62; Just. Epit. 9.1.6; Orosius 3.13.3. Returned ships: Frontin. Str. 1.4.13a. Calculating the ships’ number: e.g., Ellis (1976) 179; Griffith in HM2, 576. 26 Worthington (2008) 131–32. Griffith (HM2, 567–68) and Anson (2020, 139) argue that Athens was first to declare war in the autumn of 340. 27 Cf. Arist. Rhet. 2.1386a. 28 Beached triremes: Griffith in HM2, 576, n. 1. Griffith thinks that Philip destroyed the triremes because he did not have enough crews to row them, but not even skeleton crews? Cawkwell (1978, 139) and Murray (2008, 238) assume that Philip needed the timber and

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Naval Warfare

95

The siege of Byzantium included naval encounters that did not improve the Macedonian fleet’s record. In truth, the odds were in their disfavor. Naval and land forces from Byzantium’s allies Rhodes, Chios, and Cos joined the conflict, and although they seemed poorly coordinated, and the Byzantines did not even let Chares’ fleet into their harbor, the coalition members did well individually.29 A Byzantine fleet won a big victory against Philip’s admiral, Demetrius, in the Bosporus straits.30 Demetrius’ command confirms what is indicated elsewhere: that Philip rarely commanded his fleet in person, because he was a leader of land forces by skill and preference. Moreover, his choice of admirals may have been constrained by a small pool from which to choose. Fourth-century sling bullets found in Selymbria and other locations in northeastern Bulgaria are inscribed with “of Demetrius.” If they refer to the admiral, they suggest that Demetrius was primarily a commander of slingers, before and after his defeat.31 The loss was not an isolated event; Chares may have won an additional victory, and when the Athenian generals Phocion and Cephisophon arrived with a fleet to help Byzantium, Phocion captured Macedonian ships, probably in Thrace and Macedonia, after Philip left the region.32 Philip’s naval defeats contributed to his decision to lift the sieges of Perinthus and Byzantium, though they were hardly his prime consideration. More significant was his failure to capture the cities on land. Furthermore, the war took a wrong direction when it escalated from a campaign against Perinthus into a conflict with Athens, Byzantium, its allies, and the Persians. Keeping up two simultaneous sieges, an army of 30,000 and a navy must have been prohibitively expensive, despite the recent catch of cargo ships.33 In planning his retreat, Philip expected weak opposition to the march of his large army. It proved harder to extract the fleet, which was pushed into the

29 30 31 32

33

the war machines for the upcoming siege of Byzantium, but see Philochorus, BNJ 328 F 54, who says that he moved siege machines from Perinthus to Byzantium. Diod. Sic. 16.77.2–3l; Plut. Phocion 14. Tenedos may have helped Byzantium, too: RO 360. Dionysius of Byzantium GGM 250 F 4; Hesychius of Miletus BNJ 390, F 1.27. Dumitru (2006) relates Dionysius’ account to Philip V on weak grounds. Admittedly, Demetrius was not an uncommon Macedonian name. Sling bullets: Nankov (2020). Chares’ naval victory is implied by Hesychius of Miletus BNJ 390F 7.28, 30 and Porphyry of Tyre FHG III 692 F 1. Phocion and Cephisophon: IG II2 1628.436, 1629.957–59; Plut. Phocion 14; [Plut.] Moral. 850f. For the rivalry between Chares and Phocion and its impact on the sources, see Tritle (1998) 92–93; contra: Bianco (2002) 22–23. Ellis (1976) 182–83 adds the approaching winter as a reason for retreat, and see below for Philip’s problems in Thrace. Murray (2008, 38, and 2012, 86–87) claims that Philip’s inability to control the sea and stop foreign aid were chiefly responsible for his failure. But how could Philip have realistically hoped to control the sea?

96

Roisman

Black Sea and had to contend with two opposing naval forces. The Athenians, including Chares with 40 warships and perhaps Phocion too, controlled the Bosporus, while the Byzantines and their allies watched over the Hellespont.34 The Roman collector of military anecdotes, Frontinus (Str. 1.14.3), tells a story that fits Philip’s image as trickster. The king wrote his general Antipater to march immediately to meet him in Thrace, where the locals in revolt were endangering Macedonian garrisons. Philip then made sure that his letter fell into the Athenians’ hands, and they withdrew their fleet, allowing his ships to sail unhindered through the straits. It is not easy to accept the story as told. There was no need to trick the Athenians if both they and Philip wanted him to go away. Alternatively, why did they surrender the opportunity to attack a vulnerable Macedonian fleet? Even more troublesome is another anecdotal source, Polyaenus (Strat. 4.2.8), who reports the very same stratagem, but locates it in Amphissa in central Greece. There, he says, Philip used an identical trick against Athenian and Theban armies led by Chares (who else?) and Proxenus, who were blocking his way but left after getting the misleading letter. This tale is usually ignored or dismissed, yet it raises the possibility that we are dealing with a floating story associated with “tricky” Philip that different authors placed in contexts of their choice. Lastly, Philip’s difficulties in Thrace were real and possibly among his motives for going there, trick or no trick.35 The most that can be said about the episode at the Bosporus, then, is that Philip’s fleet was not strong and capable enough to meet the Athenians. It strains the imagination to read that Philip also deceived the fleets guarding the Hellespont. Frontinus (Str. 1.4.13a) recounts that Philip was prevented from capturing the Chersonese by Byzantine, Rhodian, and Chian ships. He won their trust by giving them back their captured ships (see above) and by negotiating peace with Byzantium, with deliberate delay. Then, catching their fleets unprepared, he sailed through the straits.36 The story reaffirms Philip’s inclination to avoid rather than initiate naval combat. His return of the ships and his negotiations with the allies must have preceded his evasion of the Athenian fleet. It is unclear, however, how his deception of the Athenians failed to alert their partners at the Hellespont. In any case, it appears that on his way to Thrace, Philip raided the Chersonese. His failed campaign emboldened Phocion to free cities of Macedonian garrisons, plunder many places 34 35

Hesychius of Miletus BNJ 390F 7.28; Frontin. Str. 1.4.13a. Troubles in Thrace and their significance: Theopompus BNJ 115 F 217; Frontin. Str. 1.4.13; Jordanov (1995) 171–72. 36 Peace negotiations: cf. Diod, Sic. 16.77.3. Their chronology: Ellis (1976) 183; Griffith in HM2, 580.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Naval Warfare

97

(in Macedonia?), and capture some of Philip’s ships, which may have tried to oppose him.37 Then came Philip’s greatest naval gain, not surprisingly as a result of his victory on land at Chaeronea. It enabled him to structure hegemony and a Common Peace with the Greeks that, from a naval perspective, aimed at two goals: to diminish their naval threats to his power and to win their participation in both maintaining the peace, that is, the status quo, and in his planned Asian expedition. Accordingly, the Greeks elected Philip hegemon (military leader) and strategos autokartor (supreme commander), giving him command over land and sea.38 Along with his agreements with individual cities, he was authorized to mobilize a large Greco-Macedonian navy, which, under Alexander two years later, included at least 160 warships.39 As a champion of keeping the peace and of the freedom of the sea, he demanded that Athens contribute triremes and cavalry to the effort. The Athenians reluctantly agreed, though it is unknown to what extent.40 Philip knew better than to challenge Athens’ naval power. On the one hand, he abolished the Athenian League of allies, which was fairly small in comparison to its earlier versions. On the other hand, he let Athens keep and even augment its navy in the hope that he could use it to enforce the peace, to police the water, and to further his Asian campaign. Besides, he could not really make Athens disband its navy without a war.41 If Alexander’s later treaty with the Athenians largely duplicated Philip’s treaty with them, Philip made some concessions. In addition to committing to free sailing, the Macedonians had to obtain permission before they could sail into the Piraeus or construct ships (chiefly triremes) and recruit crews there. The Athenians set these limits not just because they were concerned about 37 Chersonese: see also Dem. 18.139; Just. Epit. 9.1.7; Porphyry of Tyre, FHG III 692 F 1; Orosius 3.13.4. Many of these sources date the raiding of the Chersonese to the time of Byzantium’s siege. Phocion: Plut. Phoc. 14. 38 Hegemon: Diod. Sic. 16. 84.1, 89.1, 95.2; cf. Dem. 18/.201. Strategos autoktator: Diod. Sic. 16.60.5; Plut. Moral. 240a–b; Oxyrynchos Chronicle, BNJ 255 F 5; Ryder (1965) 102–15, 150–62. Command over land and sea: [Dem.] 17.22; Polyb. 9.33.7; Plut. Moral.240a; Ellis (1976) 204–209; Griffith in HM2, 623–46. 39 Arr. Anab. 1.11.6, 18.4; Curt. 4.5.14; cf. Just. Epit. 11.6.2: 182 ships. Hammond’s suggestion (1989, 128 with n. 104, and 1992, 36–39), that the Macedonian component of the navy included twenty-two triremes and thirty-eight smaller ships, is based on questionable assumptions: Murray (2008) 53, n. 56. 40 Freedom to sail: [Dem.] 17.19. Demands of Athens: Plut. Phoc. 16; Hauben (1975) 57 believes that he wanted the ships for the Asian campaign. There were at least twenty Athenian ships in Alexander’s Aegean navy in 334: Diod. Sic. 17.22.5; Kahrstedt (1936). 41 Dissolving the league: Paus. 1.25.3: Sparing the Athenian navy: Griffith in HM2, 570, 619; Goldsworthy (2020) 181.

98

Roisman

their security, but also in order to curtail competition for shipbuilding material and crews at home.42 The last recorded naval activity under Philip was associated with his sending off an advance force to Asia Minor in spring 336 under the command of Parmenion and two other Macedonian generals. A prologue to Pompeius Trogus (9) is the only source that mentions that his preparations for the Persian campaign included sending ahead a fleet and generals. All other accounts of the preparatory expedition ignore the fleet, which suggests that it was used merely to transfer the land forces across the water. Some military operations took place around Cyzicus, Pitane, the Troad, and Rhoeteium, all accessible from the sea, which provided opportunities for the fleet to render additional logistic support.43 In sum, if Philip was the creator of Macedonian naval power, then it was not his most successful or even favorite creation. He possessed the ingredients for success in raw material, installations and crews. A scorecard of the fleet’s performance shows that it did well against single ships, non-military vessels, and at times against pirates, and that it was useful in raiding and plundering expeditions. But the real test was a naval battle against a regular Greek force, and there the Macedonians lost every contest. No wonder that when facing a capable opponent, Philip’s favorite tactic was evasion, often through deception and surprise, as could be expected of the weaker side. The silence of the ancient records on the navy’s contribution to land-and-sea operations suggests that it played primarily the supporting roles of transporting men and equipment and assisting and defending land forces.44 The evidence also shows that Philip rarely led the navy, though he did regularly lead the Macedonian infantry and cavalry, which he improved and privileged. Indeed, it was thanks to the performance of his land forces at Chaeronea and elsewhere that Philip could claim to be master of the sea.

42 [Dem.] 17.19–20, 26–28. The speaker complained not about the Macedonian inimical intentions but that they could get more and cheaper timber in Macedonia and that they planned to get crews in the Piraeus. Philip’s and Alexander’s identical treaties: Hauben (1975) 57. 43 The expedition: Diod. Sic. 16.91.2; 17.2.4, 5.2, 7.10; Polyaenus, Strat. 5.44.4–5 (adding inland Magnesia); Just. Epit. 9.5.8. Defections of some cities to Philip: Ellis (1976) 221–22. Hammond (1992, 36) suggests that the ships that came from Byzantium to help Alexander up the Danube in 335 (Arr. Anab.1.3.3) belonged originally to the fleet under question. 44 Cf. Gabriel (2010) 95.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Naval Warfare

3

99

Alexander’s Naval Warfare

Unlike the deficient evidence on Philip’s navy and its use, the sources on Alexander’s are fuller and often more reliable, resulting in a clearer picture of his naval warfare and strategy. 3.1 The War in the Aegean Alexander’s first uses of warships are suggestive. In 335 he ferried his troops from the bank of the Danube River to an island in it and then to the other bank, and in 334 he transported his army to Asia.45 He thus followed his father, who often treated his war fleet as a logistic apparatus subject to the needs of ground forces. Alexander’s first military deployment of the navy showed that he was following his father’s example also in refusing battle with a superior force. In early spring 334, Alexander took 160 Greco-Macedonian warships to Asia, mostly triremes.46 They saw action only later that summer, in Alexander’s siege of Miletus, where they were primarily used to thwart the enemy. Under the command of Nicanor they occupied the nearby island of Lade, depriving the newly arrived Persian fleet of 400 ships (about half of them Cypriot and Phoenician) of a nearby base and forcing them to anchor across the Latmian Gulf at Mt. Mycale.47 At this point in the story, Arrian introduces a debate between Alexander and Parmenion, one in a series of disagreements between the king and his old general, which some scholars suspect as a later attempt to discredit Parmenion or to display both men’s opposing characters. Reportedly, Parmenion proposed to lead Alexander’s navy into battle against the Persian fleet, and Alexander rejected the idea.48 The importance of the debate for our purposes lies in the king’s decision to refuse battle with a larger and better-skilled naval force, just as Philip would have done. Instead, the fleet supported the siege on land by blocking the narrowest entrance to Miletus’ 45 Danube: Arr. Anab. 1.3.3, 6, and the previous note. Crossing to Asia: Arr. Anab. 1.11.5–6; Diod. Sic. 17.17.1–2. 46 They left from Amphipolis: Alexander’s Itinerary 18. For their number, see n. 39 above. 47 Arr. Anab. 1.18.5. Diod. Sic. 17.29.2, 31.3 gives Memnon 300 ships in 333. Grainger (2011, 2) argues against 400 Persian ships as an inflated figure and suggests around 160, but see Ruzicka (1988) 133 with n. 5. A detailed composition of the Persian fleet: Anson (1989); Parpas (2013) 74–89, 108–109 (not fully supported by the evidence). 48 Arr. Anab. 1.18.6–9. Alexander’s disagreements with Parmenion: e.g., Bosworth (1980–95) 1:115; Carney (2000) 264–73. Justin’s claim (Epit. 11.10.4) that, after Issus, Alexander sent Parmenion to attack the Persian fleet by surprise is probably a confused reference to the debate.

100

Roisman

harbor, thus preventing the Persian fleet from aiding the city or joining battle in the open sea. The Persians stayed at Mycale even after Alexander captured Miletus, but lack of water and harassments by Alexander’s infantry and cavalry forced them to look for provisions further north, in Samos. All their attempts to draw Alexander’s fleet into battle failed, as did their surprise attack with five ships, one of which was captured. In the end they gave up and sailed away.49 In fact, the Greco-Macedonian fleet left too, disbanded by Alexander, except for twenty Athenian ships for the transportation of war equipment. According to the sources, his motives included the high cost of keeping the vessels and the likelihood of defeat by the larger and better-skilled Persian fleet. Such a failure would encourage the Greeks to revolt and would negatively affect his army. Alexander, therefore, planned to win the naval contest on land by occupying the Asian coast and thus depriving the Persians of harbors and crews. A favorable interpretation of a perceived omen supported his decision.50 Not all the considerations attributed to Alexander are convincing or even credible. The king could, in fact, afford to keep the navy, because it was largely composed of self-financed Greek ships. When Alexander realized not long after that he needed the fleet back, he was able to send his admirals 500 talents to fund the war with the Persians on sea and land.51 Moreover, disbanding the fleet was easier than reassembling it, as his admiral Hegelochus could have told him when he tried it later (Arr. Anab. 2.2.3). Alexander also surely knew that depriving the Persians of coastal bases and resources meant little if they could obtain them at islands or elsewhere in the Aegean.52 Indeed, conceding to the Persians the mastery of the sea meant exposing the Aegean, the Greek mainland, and Macedonia to a Persian military and diplomatic offensive. Alexander himself acknowledged this threat in his aforementioned “debate” with Parmenion and later in a speech attributed to him before the siege of Tyre (Arr. Anab. 1.18.7; 2.17.1–4). It is possible, then, that the logic ascribed to 49 Miletus: Arr. Anab. 1.18.3–19.11; Diod. Sic. 17.22.1–5, who barely mentions Alexander’s fleet. Arrian also reports on the fleet’s partial success in capturing mercenaries who fled to a nearby islet: Arr. Anab. 1.18.4–6; Murray (2012) 92–93. 50 Arr. Anab. 1.18.7–9, 20.1; Diod. Sic. 17.22.5–24.1. Diodorus’ claim that Alexander disbanded the ships to deprive his soldiers of any hope of escape is implausible: Prandi (2013) 33–35. 51 See also Grainger (2011) 3. Sending money: Curt. 3.1.19–20. Alexander asked Chios to send him twenty triremes at their expense: Syll. I3 283, ll.8–10 = RO no. 84 = SEG XXVII 506. Brunt (1976–1983, 1: 454) and Ashley (1998, 92, 449, nn. 65–66), however, argue for Alexander’s financial distress. 52 See also Lonsdale (2007) 71. Later in 333, Phoenician fleets joined Alexander after he took their native cities, but not even his admirers grant him such foresight when he disbanded his fleet.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Naval Warfare

101

Alexander’s decision was invented by his court or historians to justify what was really an error.53 If so, what were his reasons? The scholarly claim that he disbanded the fleet because he distrusted the Greeks’ loyalty is hard to reconcile with his recalling them to service in his reconstituted fleet shortly thereafter.54 Perhaps he trusted Antipater, his Macedonian deputy, and his Greek supporters to deal with the Persian threat and believed that his destruction of Thebes in 335 would deter other Greeks from joining the Persian cause. Alexander may also have been influenced by his experience at Miletus, where he did not allow his fleet to fight the enemy because he feared defeat. If success meant declining battle, what need was there for the war fleet? The role it played in the siege was secondary to the fighting on land, while it took the cavalry and infantry, but not the navy, to drive the Persian fleet away from Mycale to Samos (above). The fleet’s importance to the campaign is even more questionable if Alexander was already thinking of going inland after taking Caria and Lycia. Alexander changed his mind about the fleet not long after (spring–summer 333), having heard that the Persian chief commander, Memnon of Rhodes, had captured Chios and cities in Lesbos and had put Mytilene under siege. There were also rumors that Memnon planned to transfer the war to Greece and Macedonia, that he was about to land at Euboea, and that he had given money and promises to Greeks who opposed Macedonian hegemony. The Persians’ subsequent actions suggest they were primarily interested in gaining control over the Hellespont and the western Aegean and in fomenting Greek rebellion. Alexander responded by essentially dividing the theaters of war between his admirals and Antipater, his deputy in Macedonia, Greece, and Thrace. Antipater was entrusted with defending Greece and islands near it, including Euboea and the Cyclades, while Alexander’s admirals, Hegelochus and Amphoterus, were to protect or restore Macedonian control in the Hellespont and Aegean islands off the Asian coast. Alexander sent 600 talents to Antipater and 500 talents to the Macedonian admirals to cover expenses.55 The size of the opposing fleets at this stage is uncertain. Memnon had 300 ships, possibly 53 So, e.g., Bosworth (1980–95) 1:143 (“a colossal error”); 1988a, 47; Grainger (2011) 4. 54 Distrusting Greeks: e.g., Hauben (1976) 81. Recall to service: Curt. 3.1.20. Also, Alexander’ letter to the Chians suggests that he planned to use the navy for a limited time only: Syll. I3 283, ll.8–10 = RO no. 84 = SEG XXVII 506, see also Heisserer (1980) 179–95. 55 Memnon’s command, gains, and plans: Arr. Anab. 2.1.1–5; Diod. Sic. 17.18.2, 23.4–6, 29.1–4, 30.1, 31.3–4. Varied analyses of the Persian strategy: Ruzicka (1988); Briant (2002) 818–21; Heckel (2020) 77–78. Antipater’s task: Arr. Anab. 2.2.4; Curt. 3.1.20. Hegelochus’ and Amphoterus’ commands: Arr. Anab. 2.2.3, 31; Curt. 3.1.19–20. Hegelochus was the senior commander till he left for Egypt: Hauben (1972) 56–58, (1976) 83–87. Funding the campaigns: Curt. 3.1.19–20.

102

Roisman

including the 200 Phoenician and Cypriot ships that would join Alexander later after Issus. He died in the summer of 333, and his Aegean command was taken first by his former subordinates Auotphradates and Pharnabazus, and then by Pharnabazus alone.56 The evidence for Persian movements after Memnon’s death variously mentions ten ships, 100 ships, 100 best ships (as part of a larger navy), and 42 ships, suggesting that the size of the Persian fleet shrank during the campaign. The Macedonians deployed two fleets, one under Antipater’s appointee, Proteas, that was based in Euboea and included at least fifteen ships, and the other led by Hegelochus, who at first had difficulties assembling it, but later mustered 160 ships.57 The opposing navies were more intent on gaining and preserving allies than on fighting each other. In fact, the Macedonian and the Persian forces almost succeeded in avoiding battle. Each side seemed to follow the same script. A naval operation often involved cooperation with, or was initiated by, a local faction or powerful individuals. The Persian or the Macedonian fleet arrived at the city or the island and, after a siege or negotiations, secured an alliance through a garrison and a local friendly government. A tax or monetary contribution might be collected. After the fleet’s departure, the opposing navy showed up and replaced the garrison and government with its own troops and sympathizers. In some places the settlement lasted till the opponent returned to restore its control. Chios, for example, changed hands more than once, and similar rotations occurred in Tenedos, Lesbos, Cos, Miletus, and Halicarnassus. The Macedonians and the Persians avoided naval conflict, probably because they were not confident of winning, and settled instead for local, transitory gains. In other words, the war in the Aegean tells us little about Macedonian naval warcraft at the time of Alexander.58

56 Memnon’s fleet: Diod. Sic. 17.29.2, 31.3. His successors: Arr. Anab. 2.1.3, 2.1; Curt. 3.3.1. 57 Persian ships: 300 (Diod. Sic. 17.29.2, 31.3), 100 and 100 best ships (Arr. Anab. 2.2.2, 13.4; Curt. 4.1.37), ten (Arr. Anab. 2.2.2); 42 (Curt. 4.5.17–18); see Bosworth 1975, 32, n. 28. Two hundred Phoenician and Cypriote ships: Arr. Anab. 2.20.1–3. Proteas’ fleet: Arr. Anab. 2.2.4–5. Hegelochus’ 160 ships: Curt. 4.5.14; cf. Arr. Anab. 3.2.6: 60 Greek ships sailed to Cos. 58 Tenedos: Arr. Anab. 2.2.2–3, 3.2.3; Curt. 4.5.14. Chios: Syll. I3 283, ll.8–10 = RO no. 84 = SEG XXVII 506; Arr. Anab. 2.1.1, 13.4–5; 3.2.3; Diod. Sic. 17.29.1, 31.3; Curt. 3.1.15–18, 4.5.14–18. Lesbos: Arr. Anab. 2.1.1–5, 3.2.4–6; Diod. Sic. 17.29.2, 31.3; Curt. 3.1.19–22; cf. Polyaenus, Strat. 5.44.3. Cos: Arr. Anab. 2.13.4, 3.2.6–7; Curt. 3.1.19. Miletus (where money was collected): Curt. 4.5.13. Halicarnassus: Arr. Anab. 2.13.4–6. Samos and Priene might be added to the list: Badian (2012) 133–34. An Athenian speaker protested that the Macedonians had forced Athenian ships sailing out of Pontus to wait at Tenedos and had demanded 100 triremes from Athens: [Dem.] 17.19–20. Cawkwell (1961, 77–78) thinks this was done to protect the ships from the Persian navy.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Naval Warfare

103

There were two exceptions to the Macedonian battle shyness. Early in the campaign, when the Persians seemed to have the upper hand, they sent their officer Datamas with ten ships to the Cyclades. His exact mission is not reported: perhaps to establish a foothold in one of the islands or the mainland, or to encourage an anti-Macedonian movement there. When Antipater’s officer Proteas heard in Euboea that Datamas was anchored near Siphnos, he sailed there with fifteen ships and surprised the Persians at dawn. He captured eight ships but not Datamas, who escaped with the remaining two.59 Apparently, Proteas did not trust his numerical superiority and resorted to a surprise attack straight from Philip’s book. His victory was not consequential because the Persians, now wiser, returned later to the Cyclades with a larger fleet (Arr. Anab. 2.13.4). The other naval conflict was bigger, but its account is flawed. Curtius Rufus reports that a Macedonian fleet, “summoned from Greece,” defeated, captured, and sank ships led by Aristomenes, whom Darius had sent to regain the Hellespont. No other source mentions the battle or Aristomenes, whose mission, aimed in part at controlling grain shipments from the Black Sea to Greece, had already been assigned to the better-known admiral Autophradates.60 This naval defeat, in any case, contributed to the end of the Persian offensive, though not as much as Darius’ defeat in the land battle of Issus, which encouraged Phoenician and Cypriot contingents to return home and change sides. In the Aegean, the Persians’ best hope now hung on the Spartan king Agis III, whom they met at Siphnos to give him money and a few ships for his war against Macedonia. From there they sailed east in an unsuccessful attempt to stem another impact of Issus: the defection to Alexander of islands and cities along the Asian coast. The Macedonians’ greatest gain there was in 332 at Chios, where their navy, in cooperation with local sympathizers, captured the city, its pro-Persian leaders, and the Persian admiral Pharnabazus (who escaped later), along with twelve fully crewed triremes, thirty crewless ships, some pirate boats, and 3,000 Greek mercenaries. The Chian operation, however, involved no naval engagement. Nor was there any significant naval confrontation before or during Agis’ revolt, which also failed.61 59 Arr. Anab. 2.2.4–5. See also Ruzicka (1988) 134. 60 Battle: Curt. 4.1.36. Autophradates’ task: Curt. 3.1.19. See Atkinson (1980) 289 against the suggestion to amend Aristomenes to Autophradates. Ruzicka (1988, 139) dates the battle to late 333, but Heckel (2021, 92, no. 193) to early 332. 61 Persian aid to Agis: Arr. Anab. 2.13.4–6. Issus’ impact and the disintegration of the Persian navy: Arr. Anab. 2.20.1–3; Curt. 4.3.11, 5.14–18 (Chian operation), 8.14; Plut. Alex. 24; Badian (2012) 157. Naval movements around Agis’ revolt: Curt. 4.8.15; Arr. Anab. 3.6.3; Bosworh (1975); Hauben (1976) 78–80; Grainger (2011) 8.

104

Roisman

3.2 The Siege of Tyre Unlike the Macedonian war in the Aegean, which Alexander delegated to his subordinates, his concurrent siege of Tyre was conducted under his direct command. After the capture of Miletus and Halicarnassus, he marched to Lycia and then inland. In November 333, at Issus in Syria, he forced and won a pitched battle against Darius and the Persian army. Darius fled to Babylon and Alexander continued southward to the Phoenician coast, where he accepted the surrender of Aradus, Byblos, and Sidon. The city of Tyre, however, refused to admit him when he wished to sacrifice to its chief god Melqart, whom the Greeks identified with Heracles. In anger at the affront, Alexander besieged the city.62 Personal and religious motives were joined by strategic considerations. In a speech to his military council reported by Arrian, Alexander essentially equated the destruction of Tyre with the elimination of the Persian naval threat to Greece, predicting that the submission of the Phoenician cities would result in the defection of their fleets and of the Cypriots’, which formed the core of the Persian navy in the Aegean. The union of Macedonian and Phoenician fleets and the future conquest of Egypt, he said, would result in naval supremacy and security for Greece and Macedonia. There are questions about the authenticity of this speech and the reality of the Persian naval threat to Greece, if it rested principally on the Tyrian fleet.63 But the Tyrians’ refusal to let Alexander, or any Persian, sacrifice in their city presumed a neutral and autonomous status that Alexander was unwilling to grant, especially since Tyre was the most powerful city in the region. It is also possible that Alexander’s successes at Miletus and even the unfinished siege of Halicarnassus misled him into thinking that a siege of Tyre would not be as challenging and prolonged as it turned out to be (February to August 332). The sources on Alexander’s siege of Tyre are sometimes contradictory and not always clear. Arrian’s report, with all its shortcomings, is the most informative and reliable. As elsewhere in this chapter, my focus is limited to the naval force on the Macedonian side.64

62 Arr. Anab. 2,16.1, 7–8; Curt. 4.2.1–5; Diod. Sic. 17.40.2–3; Just. Epit. 11.10.10–11; Bosworth (1988a) 65; Worthington (1999). 63 Speech: Arr. Anab. 2.17.1–4; cf. Curt. 4.2.17; Plut. Alexander 24. See Bloedow (1994, 1998) for (not always justified) critique of the speech, of its modern interpretations, and of Alexander’s strategy. For other views, see, e.g., Lonsdale (2007) 115–16. The Tyrians’ motives: Heckel (2020) 107–108. 64 Sources on the siege: Arr. Anab. 2.15.6–24.6; Curt. 4.2.1–4.21; Diod. Sic. 17.40.1–46.5. None of the following mentions naval operations: Plut. Alex. 24–25; Just. Epit. 11.10.10–14 (uniquely claims that Tyre fell by treason); Polyaenus, Strat. 4.3.4 (was captured by surprise).

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Naval Warfare

105

Alexander faced a considerable task. Tyre was a well-fortified and -populated city located on an island about 700 meters from the coast. The water around it was deep, and the local winds could be ferocious. The Tyrians were highly motivated to resist and possessed at least eighty warships, while Alexander had few before he was joined by the Phoenician and Cypriot squadrons.65 He began the siege by constructing a mole from the shore to the island, without waiting for the arrival of the Phoenician and Cypriot fleets, a mistake that exposed the mole and the men on it to attacks from Tyrian warships and smaller boats. Alexander’s countermeasures, such as building siege towers, were barely effective, and he watched helplessly as the Tyrians destroyed the mole and its towers by dashing a fire ship against it. A storm completed the destruction.66 The king rebuilt the mole in wider form, with new towers, but the real “game-changer” was the arrival of 244 ships at his naval base in Sidon. They included 120 Cypriot ships, eighty Phoenician ships from Aradus, Byblos, and Sidon, nine triremes from Rhodes, three from Soli and Mallus, and one Macedonian quinquereme. The ships came in different sizes and types: quinquiremes, quadriremes, triremes, triaconters, horse- and other carriers, though it is unknown how many in each category. They also varied in quality and battle-readiness, but together they gave Alexander a clear naval superiority.67 This was Alexander’s first known experience of leading ships in battle. Both he and the Tyrians aimed to decide the conflict on the sea, Alexander in confidence of his naval advantage and the Tyrians in ignorance of his new strength. The king’s battle plan was more military than naval. He manned his ships with large numbers of hypaspists, elite infantry troops, who were meant to shoot at the enemy or board its ships.68 As in a pitched battle on land, he divided his naval force into two wings, taking personal command of the right Problems with Arrian’s narrative: Bosworth (1976) 16–23, who prefers Diodorus’ account. For the siege see also Baynham in this volume. 65 Diod. Sic. 17.41.1: 80 Tyrian “triremes” (likely generic for warships); Arr. Anab. 2.18.2 (many Tyrian ships); Curt. 4.2.9, 15 (no ships for Alexander); cf. Diod. Sic. 17.40.4. Sears (2019) 168–69 blames Alexander’s naval inferiority on his disbanding the Aegean fleet. But that fleet was reassembled in the previous spring and was needed where it was: Curt. 3.1.19–20. On the creation of the siege navy see Murray (2012) 95–99. 66 Arr. Anab. 2.18.5; Curt. 4.2.21–22; Bosworth (1980) 239–41; Murray (2012) 97–98. Fire ship and storm: Arr. 2.19.1–5; Curt. 4.3.2–7; Romane (1987) 81–82. 67 Number of ships and their qualities: Arr. Anab. 2.20.1–3, 21.1; Curt. 4.3.11 (190 ships); Plut. Alex. 24 (200 triremes). Morrison and Coates (1996) 6–8 add sixty Macedonian ships to the mix, though the evidence is insufficient. 68 Arr. Anab. 2.20.6; Curt. 4.3.11. In the fourth century, warships larger than triremes allowed for more marines on deck and for grappling and boarding enemy ships in addition to ramming them: de Souza (2007a) 357–60, (2007b) 434–37.

106

Roisman

and probably stronger wing made up of Cypriot and Phoenician contingents with their kings. His left and presumably weaker wing was led by Craterus, probably with the Cypriot king Pnytagoras as his deputy.69 The fleet sailed from Sidon towards Tyre’s northern or Sidonian harbor, where it failed to draw the enemy into battle. The Tyrians, surprised by Alexander’s new advantage in numbers and quality, retreated to their harbor and packed its entrance with ships. Their response was an unintentional recognition of the transformation in Macedonian naval power. The fleet that under Philip and Alexander had refused battles or protected itself, as the Tyrians did, now assumed the role of the frustrated aggressor. From his experience of jamming Miletus’ harbor (see above), Alexander knew that a forced entry would not work. He settled for sinking three Tyrian ships on the edge of their defense line, one of which he attacked in person with his royal quinquereme. The small number of ships destroyed and the escape of many crewmen made it a small victory indeed.70 With the prospect of victory at sea now diminished, Alexander turned to integrating his fleet more fully into the siege operations.71 He divided it into three forces. A group of Phoenician ships, probably under his command, blockaded Tyre’s (southern) Egyptian harbor. A second squadron, made up of Cypriot ships under Andromachus, blockaded the (northern) Sidonian harbor. The third group was composed of horse transports and second-rate triremes that were converted into floating platforms on which Alexander mounted artillery machines. These ships he spread in intervals around the walls, which they bombarded.72 Curtius adds that he created platforms for missile throwers on top of two quadriremes joined together at the prows and separated at their sterns. They sailed around the walls until a gale damaged them and they retreated to the Tyrian shore, which now became Alexander’s naval base (Curt. 4.3.13–18). The engineering feat of mounting and operating siege artillery, and later battering rams and ramps, on the ships introduced new and effective uses of the navy in the siege of fortified sites accessible by sea. But it also treated the ships as floating platforms for what was essentially land rather than naval

69

See the previous note and Berve (1926) 1: 162; Heckel (2021) no. 622. Hauben (1972, 58–60) and Morrison and Coates (1996, 6–7) offer conjectured estimates of each wing’s size. 70 Arr. Anab. 2.20.6–10; Curt. 4.3.11–12. Curtius and Diod. Sic. (17.43.2–3, in a different context) credit Alexander with sinking all three ships. 71 Heckel (2020, 109) thinks that it was not the mole but the Tyrians’ loss of control of the water around the island that decided the outcome. 72 Arr. Anab. 2.20.9–21.2: Fuller (1960) 211–12.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Naval Warfare

107

warfare. Their screening of the mole workers from harm with their sails also suggested their subordination to the mole project.73 In many respects, the siege of Tyre was a battle of minds in which the resourceful Tyrians surprised the Macedonians with new stratagems, forcing Alexander and his staff to come up with countermeasures. Much of the contest revolved around the Tyrians’ efforts to prevent Alexander’s ships from getting close to their walls. In addition to showering the enemy with missiles and fire arrows from above, the Tyrians piled heaps of rocks in front of the walls to prevent ships from approaching them. When Alexander used cranes and catapults mounted on anchored ships to clear the stones, the Tyrians sent armored ships that either evaded or passed through the ineffective blockade and cut the anchors’ ropes. Imitating the Tyrians, Alexander countered by launching armored triaconters that formed a defensive line in front of the anchored ships, only to be outdone by Tyrian divers who cut the ropes under water. Finally, Alexander’s men replaced the ropes with chains and resumed clearing the rocks.74 The Macedonians’ troubles were not over even when they got closer to the walls. The Tyrians harmed both ships and men by dropping beams with hooks and blades on them from above, leaving the Macedonians with no countermeasures but evasion and retreat.75 The Tyrians also put out small boats with catapults, archers and javelin throwers, who injured and killed many mole workers. In response, Alexander tried to block the return of the boats, probably with ships that had besieged the Egyptian harbor, but lost the race to the harbor and captured only the last of the Tyrian boats to row there.76 Once again, the Tyrians resorted to a surprise attack, this time in an attempt to break the blockade of the Sidonian harbor. It is unknown how many of the 120 Cypriot ships assigned to the blockade remained in place, and why the Tyrians targeted them and not Alexander’s ships at the Egyptian harbor.77 73 Arr. Anab. 2.21.3–23.3; Curt. 4.3.13–15; Diod. Sic. 17.43.4, 46.1–2; Marsden (1969) 61–62, 102–103; Murray (2012) 97–98 (on the novel use of ships in siege). Screening workers: Diod. Sic. 17.42.5. 74 Arr. Anab. 2.21.1–7. In Curtius’ version, 4.3.10–11, Tyrian divers destroyed the mole’s understructure by removing felled trees. 75 Curt. 4.3.24–25. Curtius (4.3.25–26) and Diodorus Siculus (17.43.1–3) report that the Tyrians also poured heated sand on the attackers, but suggest that it was not used against men on the ships. 76 Diodorus (17.42.1–4) does not identify the harbor and says that Alexander took “all” his ships, which probably means those under his command south of the mole; see Prandi (2013) 68. 77 Fuller (1960, 214) wondered why the Tyrians did not attack simultaneously from both harbors.

108

Roisman

Perhaps the Tyrians found it easier to hide the preparations for the attack on the Sidonian harbor, or had better ships and men for the task there. They planned a stealth attack at a time when the enemy crews were taking their midday break on shore, and when Alexander would normally retire to his tent away from the ships. The Tyrian strike force consisted of three quinqueremes, three quadriremes, and seven triremes, all crewed with the best rowers and marines. They rowed silently and then attacked in unison, making loud noises to intimidate the enemy, whose ships were empty or poorly manned. The big prize was the royal quinqueremes of the Cypriot kings of Salamis, Amathus and Curium, which the Tyrians destroyed, driving the rest of the ships to the shore to break them up. It happened that Alexander had not retired to his tent but stayed around the Phoenician ships that faced the Egyptian harbor. Reacting promptly, he told the Phoenicians to crew their blockading ships quickly in case the Tyrians attempted a breakthrough there too, while he himself left for the Sidonian harbor with five hastily crewed triremes and as many quinqueremes as could join him. Sailing around the island, he surprised the Tyrians, who failed to notice the warnings of their compatriots on the walls. A few Tyrian ships made it back to the protected harbor, but a quinquereme and quadrireme were captured and the rest were disabled or rammed. Their crews, however, survived. Arrian claims that the Tyrians lost hope of salvation from their ships after this encounter. Yet a comparison of each side’s gains and losses shows that the Tyrian ships performed better than, or as well as, Alexander’s. It appears that Arrian gave Alexander a greater victory than he deserved.78 Curtius gives a different account of the Tyrian attack and its aim, but it serves to supplement Arrian’s description. Naval battles were often the sum of individual, separate clashes, and Curtius describes one such battle. One of Alexander’s quinqueremes rushed to the scene ahead of his force and was attacked simultaneously by two Tyrian ships from opposite directions. The quinquereme’s crew did not panic or abandon ship but responded by grappling one of the attacking ships. The quinquereme was saved by a Phoenician trireme that rammed the other Tyrian ship. The Tyrians managed to rescue the grappled ship and they all retreated to the safety of their harbor, but Alexander is also said to have sunk or captured all the enemy’s ships, presumably those that failed to reach the harbor.79 78 Arr. Anab. 2.21.8–22.5; Abramenko (1992) 170–71. 79 Curtius (4.4.6–9) seems to locate the battle south of the mole. It started with a Tyrian attack on thirty beached ships, which Alexander hurried to rescue. Curtius puzzlingly reports that all the Tyrian ships escaped but also that Alexander sank them all. Historians ignore his account or integrate it into Arrian’s description, e.g., Romane (1987) 84.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Naval Warfare

109

Ultimately, the Tyrians’ sortie failed to change the status quo. The ships that blockaded the harbors may have improved their watchfulness, but Alexander’s renewed focus was on breaching the walls and, hence, on those ships that served as platforms for men, rams, and other siege engines. After a few failed attempts, he made an opening in the walls, brought ladders up to them, and entered the city with his men. He told other ships to encircle the island and land wherever it was possible, in order to occupy the Tyrians with simultaneous attacks from many directions.80 The main naval action took place in the harbors. The Phoenicians charged into the Egyptian harbor, broke the defensive boom there, rammed some ships, and drove the rest ashore. The Cypriots charged into the Sidonian harbor, where they met with little resistance. Apparently, the crews in both harbors joined other Tyrians in their last stand inside the city. The Macedonians slaughtered and enslaved many Tyrians, and Alexander got his wish of sacrificing to Melqart/Heracles.81 Alexander’s siege of Tyre is considered as one of his greatest accomplishments. But what does it say about his maritime power and its use? From a naval perspective, much of the fighting, equipment and even credit belonged to the Cypriot and Phoenician contingents. Their deployment was an early example of Alexander’s later imperial policy of substituting or supplementing Macedonians with Asian forces. On the other hand, his frequent use of ships as an extension of, or substitute for, land warfare suggests the traditional Macedonian preference for the latter. In this respect Alexander was his father’s true son. The siege of Tyre was Alexander’s last encounter with an opposing naval force in the Levant or Asia, and his ships saw little if any military action for the rest of his campaign. He used them and smaller boats chiefly as transports of men, animals, and materials across or down rivers in India and Mesopotamia. A prime example is the fleet that sailed down the Indus, which included warships but was overwhelmingly composed of river boats, cargo ships, and horse carriers.82 He also used fleets to explore the Caspian and Arabian Seas and the coast of Arabia. Only the Caspian expedition, which probably never progressed Abramenko’s suggestion (1992) that Curtius describes a different and more decisive battle is attractive, though it is harder to reconcile with Arrian’s narrative than he suggests. 80 Arr. Anab. 2.22.6–23.8; Diod. Sic. 17.43.3–5, 46.1–2. Curtius (4.4.10) suggests that Alexander entered the city from a tower on the mole. 81 Arr. Anab. 2.24.1–6; cf. Curt. 2.4.10–12. 82 Nearchus BNJ 133 F 1 I (800 warships and transporters); Ptolemy BNJ 138 F 24 (80 triaconters, carriers and river boats, totaling 2,000); Diod. Sic. 17.95.5 (200 aphraktoi, or undecked ships, and 800 service ships); Curt. 9.3.22 (1,000 ships); Bosworth (1988a) 134. For other, similar deployments, see, e.g., Ashley (1998) 96–99.

110

Roisman

beyond the planning stage, relied on a war fleet. Alexander’s death similarly aborted his planned conquest of Arabia and the building of 700 warships for it, with a harbor in Babylon for 1,000 ships. It also put an end to his reportedly more ambitious plans to conquer territories around the Black Sea and to build 1,000 large warships for a campaign against Carthage, Sicily, and Spain.83 In sum, the history of Alexander’s actual and planned use of the navy after the siege of Tyre tells little to nothing about his naval warcraft. With the exception of that siege, the naval legacy of Philip and Alexander to their so-called Successors was modest and left plenty of room for growth. Works Cited Anson, E. M. (1989) “The Persian Fleet in 334.” CPh 84: 44–49. Anson, E. M. (2020) Philip II, the Father of Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues. London. Atkinson, J. E. (1980) A Commentary on Q. Curtius Rufus’ Historiae Alexandri Magni Books 3 and 4. Leiden. Badian, E. (2012) Collected Papers on Alexander the Great. London. Berve, H. (1926) Das Alexanderreich auf prosopographischer Grundlage, 2 vols. Munich. Bianco, E. (2002) “Carete: Cane del popolo?” AncSoc 32: 1–28. Bloedow, E. F. (1994) “Alexander’s Speech on the Eve of the Siege of Tyre.” AC 63: 65–76. Bloedow, E. F. (1998) “The Siege of Tyre in 332 BC: Alexander at the Crossroads in His Career.” P&P 53: 255–93. Borza, E. (1995) Makedonika. Essays by Eugene N. Borza. Ed. C. G. Thomas. Claremont, CA. Bosworth, A. B. (1975) “The Mission of Amphoterus and the Outbreak of Agis’ War.” Phoenix 29: 27–43. Bosworth, A. B. (1976) “Arrian and the Alexander Vulgate.” Entretienes Hardt 22: 1–33. Bosworth, A. B. (1980–95) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander, 2 vols. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1988a) Conquest and Empire: The Reign of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Bosworth, A. B. (1988b) From Arrian to Alexander: Studies in Historical Interpretation. Oxford. 83

Caspian Sea expedition: Arr. Anab. 7.16.1–2: Arabian campaign and Bayblon harbor: Arr. Anab. 7.19.3–20.2; Curt. 10.1.19; Plut. Alex. 68; Strabo 16.1.11. Black Sea campaign: Arr. Anab. 4.15.6; 7.1.2. Carthage and Spain: Diod. Sic. 18.4.4; Curt. 10.1.17–19; Arr. Anab. 7.1.2. The authenticity of last plan has been challenged, but see in general Bosworth (1988b) 165–211.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Naval Warfare

111

Bosworth, A. B. and Baynham, E. J. (eds) (2000) Alexander the Great in Fact and Fiction. Oxford. Briant, P. (2002) From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire. Trans. P. T. Daniels. Winona Lake, IN. Brunt, P. A. (1976–83) Arrian’s History of Alexander and Indica, 2 vols. Cambridge, MA. Buckler, J. (1996) “The Actions of Philip II in 347 and 346 B.C.: A Reply to N. G. L. Hammond.” CQ 46: 380–86. Carney, E. D. (2000) “Artifice and Alexander History,” in Bosworth and Baynham (2000) 263–85. Cawkwell, G. L. (1961) “A Note on Ps. Demosthenes 17.20.” Phoenix 15: 74–78. Cawkwell, G. L. (1978) Philip of Macedon. London. de Souza, P. (2007a) “Naval Forces,” in CHGRW 1: 357–67. de Souza, P. (2007b) “Naval Battles and Sieges,” CHGRW 1: 434–60. Dumitru, A. (2006) “Byzance et les Philippe de Macédoine.” REG 119: 139–56. Ellis, J. R. (1976) Philip II and Macedonian Imperialism. London. Fuller, J. F. C. (1960) The Generalship of Alexander the Great. New Brunswick, NJ. Gabriel, R. A. (2010) Philip II of Macedonia. Greater than Alexander. Washington, DC. Goldsworthy, A. (2020) Philip and Alexander. Kings and Conquerors. New York. Grainger, J. D. (2011) Hellenistic and Roman Naval Wars, 336BC–31BC. Barnsley, UK. Hammond, N. G. L. (1992) “The Macedonian Navies of Philip and Alexander until 330 B.C.” Antichton 26: 30–41. Hammond, N. G. L. (1994) Philip of Macedon. Baltimore, MD. Hauben, H. (1972) “The Command Structure in Alexander’s Mediterranean Fleets.” AncSoc 3: 55–65. Hauben, H. (1975) “Philippe II, fondateur de la marine Macédonienne.” AncSoc 6: 51–59. Hauben, H. (1976) “The Expansion of the Macedonian Sea-Power under Alexander the Great.” AncSoc 7: 79–105. Heckel, W. (2020) In the Path of Conquest: Resistance to Alexander the Great. Oxford. Heckel, W. (2021) Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander: From Chaironeia to Ipsos (338–301 BC). Barnsley, UK. Heisserer, A. J. (1980) Alexander and the Greeks: The Epigraphic Evidence. Norman, OK. Howe, T. and Reames, J. (eds) (2008) Macedonian Legacies: Studies in Ancient Mace­ donian History and Culture in Honor of Eugene N. Borza. Claremont, CA. Jordanov, K. (1995) “The Wars of the Odrysian Kingdom Against Philip II 352–339 BC.” Balcanica 26: 153–73. Kahrstedt, U. (1936) “Das athenische Kontingent zum Alexanderzuge.” Hermes 71: 120–24. Karathanasis, K. (2019) “A Game of Timber Monopoly: Atheno-Macedonian Relations on the Eve of the Peloponnesian War.” Hesperia 88: 707–26. Lonsdale, D. J. (2007) Alexander the Great: Lessons in Strategy. London.

112

Roisman

Marsden, E. W. (1969) Greek and Roman Artillery: Historical Development. Oxford. MacDowell, D. M. (2000) Demosthenes On the False Embassy (Oration 19). Oxford. MacDowell, D. M. (2009) Demosthenes the Orator. Oxford. Murray, W. M. (2008) “The Development of a Naval Siege Unit under Philip II and Alexander III,” in Howe and Reames (2008) 31–55. Murray, W. M. (2012) The Age of Titans: The Rise and Fall of the Great Hellenistic Navies. Oxford. Nankov, E. (2020) “Demetrius, Dux Philippi: A Macedonian Commander of Philip II in Thrace (According to the Inscribed Sling Bullets).” Bulgarian e-Journal of Archaeology. 10.1: 143–48. Parpas, A. P. (2013) Alexander the Great: The Dissolution of the Persian Naval Sup­remacy 334–331 B.C. Dubai. Prandi, L. (2013) Diodoro Siculo Biblioteca Storica. Libro XVII. Commento Storico. Milan. Romane, P. (1987) “Alexander’s Siege of Tyre.” AncW 16: 79–90. Ruzicka, S. (1988) “War in the Aegean, 333–331 B.C.: A Reconsideration.” Phoenix 42: 131–51. Ryder, T. T. B. (1965) Koine Eirene: General Peace and Local Independence in Ancient Greece. Oxford. Sears, M. A. (2019) Understanding Greek Warfare. New York. Trevett, J. (2011) Demosthenes Speeches 1–17. Austin, TX. Tritle, L. A. (1988) Phocion the Good. London. Worthington, I. (1999) “How Great Was Alexander.” AHB 13: 39–55. Worthington, I. (2008) Philip II oof Macedonia. New Haven, CT. Worthington, I. (2013) Demosthenes of Athens and the Fall of Classical Greece. Oxford. Wüst, F. R. (1938) Philipp II von Makedonien und Griechenland in den Jahren 346 bis 338. Munich.

Chapter 5

The Sieges of Philip and Alexander Elizabeth Baynham 1

Siege Warfare during the Reigns of Philip II and Alexander the Great

“Even though Betis was still breathing, straps were bound around his ankles, he was tied behind the king’s chariots and the horses dragged him around the city, while the king [Alexander] exulted that in having inflicted such punishment upon an enemy, he was imitating Achilles from whom he himself was descended” (Curt. 4.6.29). Quintus Curtius, the Roman historian of Alexander the Great, thus describes the horrific death of Betis (or Batis), the defeated governor of Gaza, after Alexander’s capture of the besieged city by assault in 332 BCE.1 The city was strategically important to the king; it lay on the main route to Egypt (Arr. Anab. 2.26.1) and was the center of the spice trade.2 The historicity of the incident has been disputed, as it is not recorded in Arrian.3 However, the Homeric echo is strident. Achilles had dragged the body of Hector behind his chariot around the walls of Troy (Il. 22.395–404), perhaps the most famous siege in Greco-Roman culture, if not Western tradition. The dramatic appeal of the incident would have resonated with both the historian and his audience. Also, the theme of the king’s explosive ira (anger) was appropriate for not only the well-known trope of the rhetorical schools, but Curtius’ characterization and the theme of Alexander’s corruption by Fortuna.4 Yet we need not be dismissive of the tradition; Alexander’s imitation of his ancestor Achilles in other examples is testified elsewhere,5 and his theatrical 1 All dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated. 2 On Gaza’s history, see Bosworth (1980) 258; Gaza’s importance in the spice trade is highlighted by Plut. Alex. 25.6; cf. Plut. Mor. 179 e–f; Pliny HN 12.62 with Hamilton (1969) 66. 3 On the treatment of Betis, cf. Hegesias, BNJ 142 F. 5; Bosworth (1980) 257–58; Atkinson (1980) 334–35, 341–44. 4 On Curtius’ depiction of the Betis episode see Baynham (1998) 155–59; Müller in Wulfram (2016) 28; on Alexander and rhetorical topoi, Baynham (1998) 25–30; Spencer (2002) 83–118; Pausch (2016) 73–98; on the theme of Fortuna, Baynham (1998) 101–31; Stoneman (2016) 301–22. 5 On Alexander’s imitation of Achilles, see Maitland (2015) 1–20; Heckel (2015) 21–34; Anson (2021) 15–16.

© Elizabeth Baynham, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_007

114

Baynham

savagery towards Betis was neither inconsistent with his character, nor the type of reaction he was likely to display in the aftermath of a dangerous and grueling siege. The capture of Gaza, which took two months (Joseph. JA 11.325), had followed hard on the heels of the siege of Tyre—which it had taken Alexander seven months to capture (Curt. 4.4.19)—and, during the campaign against Gaza, the king had sustained two wounds. The Homeric echo is symbolic, not just of Achilles’ treatment of Troy’s heroic defender, Hector, but of the carnage that often accompanied the resolution of siege warfare in the ancient world. Curtius’ audience would have known the stories about the fall of Troy which were outside of the epic narratives of the Iliad and Odyssey, but not the so-called “Little Iliad,” or the rich traditions of Greek art and Greek tragedy, which featured the death of Hector’s little son, Astyanax (also known as Scamandrius), who, in several ancient sources, was hurled from the remnants of the city’s battlements.6 The Greek word for siege warfare is poliorkia, which encompasses both besiegers—as in Demetrius Poliorcetes’ (the “Besieger”) famous nickname7— and besieged. Alexander and his father, Philip II, were famous for some decisive victories in “set piece” engagements involving a range of military units, and often resulting in large casualties, especially for the defeated side. But both kings also endured setbacks, or in Philip’s case, outright defeat. He was soundly beaten in a field engagement by the Phocian general Onomarchus in Thessaly in 353 (Diod. Sic. 16.35.1–2; Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.20), and the sieges of both Perinthus and Byzantium in 340 were costly. But as we shall see, Philip’s decision to break off operations was strategic. Failure in relation to his siege train, direct assault and naval support certainly contributed to his withdrawal, but it is also true that his decision was probably motivated by the need to conserve his men and his resources for a greater concern—looming war with Athens. Siege warfare was often challenging and expensive in terms of heavy, specialist machinery, food and equipment supplies, human and animal life—and time. It was dirty and highly dangerous work; moreover, sieges invariably impacted upon non-combatants, even if their city was able to resist its besiegers.

6 For the death of Astyanax, see the Little Iliad fr. 20 (Davies); also Euripides, Troades 773–83; 1122; on the portrayal of Astyanax in Archaic and Classical Greek art, see LIMC 1/1.929–937. On the influence of the Iliad on Greek military practices, see Lendon (2005) 20–38 and 115–39. 7 On Demetrius’ sobriquet, which he supposedly earned for the siege of Rhodes in 304, see Wheatley and Dunn (2020), 1–3, 151 with n. 24, 191 with n. 48. On the general term and concept of poliorkia, see Echeverría (2021).

The Sieges of Philip and Alexander

115

This chapter will explore a selection of examples of poliorkia during Philip’s and Alexander’s campaigns. In particular, Philip’s unsuccessful sieges at Perinthus and Byzantium will be contrasted with Alexander’s victories at Tyre, Gaza, and the Sogdian Rock. Of course, Alexander’s campaigns encompassed several other notable sieges including Thebes in 336, Halicarnassus in 334, the campaigns of 329–327 in Bactria and Sogdiana, and the Rock of Aornus (327), all of which were taken by direct assault, and which mostly resulted in high casualties, not only for the defenders, but in the case of Halicarnassus for the besiegers as well (Diod. Sic. 17.25.5–6; cf. Arr. Anab. 1.21.1–4). Halicarnassus in particular, was strongly protected by a force of professionals thanks to Memnon’s preparation (Arr. Anab. 1.20.3)8 and at that early stage of Alexander’s invasion, Persia (via the Phoenicians) still had superior naval power. Yet the sieges of Tyre, Gaza, and the Sogdian Rock, including Alexander’s stratagem of the “winged soldiers” to take the fortress held by a Sogdian or Bactrian chieftain (whatever his name and ethnicity)9 are arguably the best known, as well as featuring the same aspects of siege warfare, such as resources, time, and cost, that appear in the other episodes. Also, while Thebes, Halicarnassus, Tyre, and Gaza offered the challenge of man-made walls, Alexander’s siege warfare in the eastern part of the Persian Empire had to face the defensive locations presented by the natural terrain, including high escarpments of sheer rock face. However, it may be helpful first to set a broader context by surveying siege warfare prior to the fourth century. It is also important to acknowledge some of the significant developments in technology and engineering which took place after the Peloponnesian War, as well as the role played by wealthy tyrants like Dionysius I of Syracuse and his son, Dionysius II. The well-known saying “all is fair in love and war” applied to the ancient world as well. For instance, in 494 the Spartan king Cleomenes I crippled Sparta’s great rival Argos, by trapping several thousand Argive hoplites in a sacred grove in the Serpeian forest, and then setting fire to the wood (Hdt. 6.75–80). Nevertheless, many believe that there was an observed code of conduct for a battle—with certain protocols, declarations, rituals, and customs for beginning and ending a battle, however well or badly these may have been observed.10 These views are tied to the classical sense of agonal warfare as 8 9 10

On the strength and fortifications of Halicarnassus, see Bosworth (1980) 143–44; see also Bosworth (1988) 47–48; cf. Marsden (1969) 85. See Heckel (2021) 86, 147. There is a substantial bibliography on Greek hoplite warfare; significant studies include Hanson (1989, 1991); Pritchett’s GSW; Van Wees (2000, 2004); Wheeler (2007); CHGRW vol. 1; Konijnendijk (2018); Sears (2019).

116

Baynham

essentially a contest between two hoplite armies, who used more or less the same equipment and tactics, and who knew what to expect. The engagement was decided on the battlefield, the losers retrieved their dead, the winners took whatever booty, territory, or concessions they had gained, and put up a trophy. For the most part the body count was fairly low with most casualties occurring when one side broke and ran, although higher rates of deaths could and did occur.11 But with sieges, the dynamic of warfare shifted drastically. As noted above, a siege inevitably included a civilian population and those who did not have experience of fighting, nor the physical capacity to fight, including (usually) women,12 children, and the elderly. The potential human cost for the defeated, but also for the victors, rose steeply. Siege warfare was expensive, nasty, destructive, and often desperate. We also need to distinguish between “invasion” and “siege,” because although an invasion might lead to a siege or it might not, both are quite separate strategic scenarios. An invasion may seize territory or destroy farmland and property and, in doing so, threaten a city’s food supply. In general, the objective of an ancient siege was to blockade a city, cutting its communications or supplies, and eventually to take it through surrender or assault. Historically, siege warfare is about as old as cities themselves. Ancient peoples generally built walls around their settlements or chose a strategic defensive location like high ground—hence the concept of the Greek acropolis, or fortified “high city.” In ancient Egypt and the Near East, effective tactics and techniques for laying siege to fortified cities were developed by powerful monarchies with the resources and manpower to sustain them.13 Walled cities on mainland Greece likewise have a long history.14 The massive, so-called “Cyclopean” walls of the Mycenaean fortresses at Mycenae and Tiryns were well known in Classical Greece, and are still standing. Thucydides himself (Thuc. 1.8) links the development of fortifications with the development of civilizations, but naturally his focus is confined to the Aegean and the Greek mainland and even here he concedes that there were alternative systems of defense, like smaller states coming under the “protection” of larger ones. Homer’s Iliad is based on a short time frame from within an alleged ten-year siege of a foreign city. Yet the description (Il. 12.258–60) of 11 12

See Lazenby (1996) 87–109. There is evidence of women picking up weapons and fighting back in extreme situations (cf. Diod. Sic. 13.55.4–5; 17.84.5–6). 13 Sage (1996) 107. 14 Whitehead (1990) with n. 64.

The Sieges of Philip and Alexander

117

the Trojan assault on the Greeks’ defensive barricades surrounding their camp offers some insight into what siege warfare may have been like in the late Dark Age and early Archaic periods (ca. 750–700). The Trojans divide themselves into groups and attack several sections of the wall at once; there is a lot of stone throwing first, and then they clamber up the walls without ladders, using whatever they can, such as boulders and levers, to break down the gates and walls. Of course, with Homer, there is also the difficult element of poetic fantasy and in the overall development of the epic, Hector’s assault on the Greek camp is the closest the Trojans come to driving the Greeks away. But according to Julius Caesar (BGall. 2.6.2) the Gauls were using identical storming tactics in the first century. The point is that trying to take a city via direct assault resulted in more casualties than any other type of combat, which was why the motivation of a besieging side’s forces was also important. Various factors could undermine morale, including weather, the attacking army’s perception of the capacity of the besieged city to withstand a long siege, the strength of its fortifications, and finally time. In particular, if the besieging army consisted mostly of citizen soldiers any siege investiture would have its limits, as citizen armies would have their own demands, such as the need to plant or harvest crops, to attend to back home. Motivating the Macedonian soldiers during a siege also factored in Philip’s and Alexander’s campaigns; Philip showed himself to be relatively careful of his soldier’s lives at Perinthus and Byzantium; Alexander urged his men to lay siege to Tyre by claiming to have been inspired by his ancestor Heracles, and as his victories and reputation grew, he could use his own and his soldiers’ belief in his apparent invincibility to his own advantage.15 Yet it is also true that commanders on occasion offered a “sweetener” or extra incentive to their troops to take a fortress. Dionysius I put up a prize of one and a half talents for the first man to scale the walls at Motya in 397 (Diod. Sic. 14.53.4), which would have been riches for life for most soldiers at that time. Alexander was even more generous. At the Sogdian Rock the king offered twelve talents to the first man to the top, and then on a sliding scale to those who followed (Arr. Anab. 4.18.7). But in 325, after the Hyphasis mutiny and during the frontal assault on the town of the Malli people of the lower Punjab, the loss of army morale was demonstrable, and Alexander was forced to seize a ladder and scale the wall himself, in one of his most heroic if not reckless feats of personal leadership (Arr. Anab. 6.9.3–10.1). 15 Anson (2021); Bosworth (1996).

118

Baynham

In addition to a protective curtain of walls, a city’s fortifications often took advantage of its natural defenses, such as mountainous terrain, rivers, ravines, or hollows. Early fortifications were made of sun-dried brick on a stone foundation; this type of structure could be weakened by flooding—as happened to Mantinea in 385 (Xen. Hell. 5.4–5). Around 500, cities appear to have started adding towers at regular intervals along the wall, which gave even greater opportunities for observation and defensive fire, while in the fourth century, fortifications included more elaborate gate buildings, artillery positions and even moats. Walled fortifications also had some drawbacks. In the fourth century, Plato suggested (Laws 778D4–779 A7) that walls lead to a city’s residents becoming complacent and lazy. Interestingly he is not alone in this attitude, and it is possible that Plato and other Athenian intellectuals like Xenophon may have been reacting to the Periclean strategy of relying on defensive fortifications and sea-power.16 The old aristocratic ideal of the hoplite defending the chora (the countryside) had a long duration. Walls could also be dangerous to a defending city’s own side, particularly if their men happened to be on the outside during an enemy attack and they were trying to return (cf. Xen. Hell. 4.7.6). But Aristotle (Pol. 1330b32–31a18) recognized both the aesthetics and protection value of walls. How did an ancient army take a fortified city? According to epic tradition, the Greeks ultimately defeat Troy by the stratagem of a wooden horse. Such tricks might work in Vergil (Aen. 2.203–25); also, thanks to the action of the god Neptune (who had a long standing grudge against Troy), Laocoön and his sons were choked to death by large snakes which emerged from the sea. Surprise and ambush played a part in ancient warfare, being testified in Greek literature as early as Homer.17 In a small, but singularly brutal story, Thucydides (7. 29) describes Demosthenes’ (one of the Athenian generals in 413) decision to make use of a force of some 1,300 Thracian mercenaries, who were due to be discharged, by leading a dawn assault on Mycalessus, a sleepy, inland Boeotian town. Thucydides is emphatic that these people were unprepared: they had not expected an attack as they were so far from the sea, their walls were in disrepair, and they had even left the city gates wide open. It would sound almost comical if the historian did not add some gruesome detail. The Thracian mercenaries went berserk, killing every living thing they 16 Sage (1996) 109. 17 Van Wees (2004) 131–33.

The Sieges of Philip and Alexander

119

saw, from women and children to farm animals. The most horrific episode occurred when the soldiers invaded a school into which a group of little boys with their teacher had just entered, and killed every one of them. The message was pointed—no village should consider itself safe, or insignificant. Although Mycalessus was only a relatively minor incident in a long war, it is a powerful reminder of how, in any war, regardless of the period, the innocent will suffer. Surprise also factored in siege campaigns. Alexander used both the element of surprise and a ruse to trick the Sogdian chieftain who commanded a mountain fortress north of the Oxus into thinking that he was facing impossible odds as Alexander had seemingly called on supernatural help. But as we shall see, skillful negotiation, and perhaps a promise of a marriage alliance, may have also played a role. However, by far the greatest asset in taking a fortified city was betrayal by its own inhabitants. The northern city of Olynthus—and the subject of some of Demosthenes’ finest oratory, the Olynthiacs—fell to Philip II in 348 through the treachery of two of its own citizens, Euthycrates and Lasthenes (Diod. Sic. 16.53.2). This brings us to the work of Aeneas Tacticus—Aeneas the Tactician. The identity of this man is uncertain, but some scholars are prepared to connect him with a certain Aeneas of Stymphalos, in Arcadia.18 If so, he was a general from a well-known family, who had command of the acropolis of Sicyon in 367, and therefore he was certainly well placed to have written a practical guide to siegecraft, which appears to have been composed around 355, a time when Sparta was weak, Thebes and Athens were involved in protracted wars with former allies, and a young Philip II had just united and consolidated his state. For Aeneas, siegecraft had two facets, not surprisingly, attack and defense. It is important to remember that throughout his work he frequently switches perspectives, from those wanting to keep the gates shut, to those wanting to open them (Aen. Tact. 18.22). But at the same time, the defensive perspective is the dominant one in Aeneas’ work. The inhabitants of the city under siege are given solid advice about how to protect their walls and gates against both human and mechanical assault; how to cope with incendiary devices; how to detect and counter undermining of the walls; how to organize and deploy manpower; and how to create the illusion that a city’s defensive forces are bigger than they actually are--Aeneas notes that one ruse is to dress women in soldiers’ kit, but they 18 Whitehead (1990) 4–16. See also Schellenberg (2017).

120

Baynham

must not be allowed to throw any missile, in case they “reveal their true gender” (Aen. Tact. 40.4).19 The prospect of betrayal from within—whether from external corruption, coercion, or desire for “regime change”—was also a strong factor. Aeneas emphasizes that it is wise for besieged cities to put those men in command who have a vested interest in the place—not only in the status quo, but also domestically. But even under those circumstances the motivation for negotiation and capitulation remained high. Negotiation (and bribery) not only secured Philip’s victory at Olynthus in 348, it also featured in some of Alexander’s sieges, including the surrender of the Sogdian Rock (328/27) and the assault on the fortress of the Assaceni in the Swat Valley (327). Taking a city through bribery became something of a byword in relation to Philip, resulting in Cicero’s famous comment that the king had once remarked that “no city was impregnable if a donkey carrying a sack of gold could get up to it” (Cic. Att. 1.16.12). As city fortifications developed, so did siege-engines (mechanai). A mechanical battering ram was used during the Athenians’ siege of Samos in 440, and the Thebans invented a handy flame-thrower during the siege of Delium in 421. The Spartans used a siege ramp against Plataea and likewise the Plataeans are the first recorded Greeks to dig countermines.20 A city’s defenders also found ways to counteract siege engines. Wheeled rams could be snagged from above with chains or ropes, smashed with dropped blocks of stone, or set on fire by being dowsed with pitch from above and lit (Aen. Tact. 32; cf. Thuc. 2.76). Wooden fixtures on city walls could be fire-proofed with birdlime and vinegar or felt coverings (Aen. Tact. 34); moreover, sails could be spread on the inside to catch missiles. In the fourth century Dionysius I of Syracuse developed two important innovations in heavy artillery: the catapult (katapaltai) and mobile siege towers.21 The former were essentially giant bows and slings, which used the energy released by torsion (produced by twisted sinew and rope) to propel massive arrows or rocks over considerable distances. The siege tower or helepolis (“taker of a city”), which seems to have been adapted by the Greeks from Carthaginian prototypes, was a multi-storied wheeled structure designed to carry troops 19 Martinez Morales (2019). It hardly needs to be said (contra Hornblower 2002, 159) that women can throw objects as accurately as men, as women’s teams in modern baseball or cricket demonstrate, but Aeneas’ comment was not necessarily chauvinistic; most Greek women, raised in the oikos (home) as they were, would not have had the encouragement, training, or opportunities to learn to throw in the way that men did. 20 Kern (1999) 112, 131, 182, 245. 21 Trundle (2019) 142–49.

The Sieges of Philip and Alexander

121

and equipment in safety up to a city wall; their crews could then use battering rams or fire missiles from an elevated position. Philip II supposedly had a siege tower some forty meters tall (Diod. Sic. 14.51.7).22 In turn, city defenders countered these machines by raising the height of their walls with sandbags or stones, or undermining the approaches to the city, so that the wheels would sink into the ground. Sometimes the terrain itself could bog siege engines—as happened with Alexander’s transports at Gaza in 332 (Curt. 4.6.9). Earthworks in the form of ramps and tunneling were also engineering tactics used in sieges. The enemy’s objective was either to try to gain access to the city or make the walls collapse by weakening their foundations; to counter enemy subterranean activity, Aeneas Tacticus (37.3) thoughtfully suggests smoking them out, or even releasing bees and wasps into the enemy’s tunnels (37.4)—a tactic which could also potentially work against the defenders. Bringing bees (and other commodities) into a city preparing for a siege raises another question: how long did sieges last? Again, as with fortifications and engineering devices, this aspect was subject to development. The siege of Troy traditionally lasted ten years, but Thucydides himself (1.11) points out that the city could not have been completely blockaded, nor could the Greeks have concentrated their entire force for any continuous time as they needed to get supplies and were always going off on raids elsewhere. It seems clear that sieges in the Archaic period were short, relying on treachery or the odd assault, rather than protracted blockade. But in the late fifth and fourth centuries, the blockade became the standard tactic.23 The besiegers surrounded the city with their own fortifications—as the Athenians built at Syracuse when they laid siege to it in 415 (Thuc. 6.66, 97–101)—while the besieged did all they could to keep their supplies open, by sallies against siege-walls, or secret foraging expeditions. Cities could also extend their supplies by evacuating some of their inhabitants—as the Plataeans did in 429 (Thuc. 2.78). Provided the inhabitants had water, a city could potentially hold out for up to two to three years. However, we also have plenty of evidence for the frightful privations such long sieges produce; under siege at Pydna in 316, Alexander’s mother Olympias tried to keep her elephants alive by feeding them on sawdust (Diod. Sic. 19.49.2); elsewhere people were driven to eating leather or grass; some, like the inhabitants of Potidaea, had even become cannibals (Thuc. 2.70.1). Given that siege warfare required such tremendous energy, resources, and time from both sides, perhaps it is not surprising that its aftermath tended 22 See Van Wees (2004) 142 with nn. 37–38. 23 Trundle (2019) 135–37; Seaman (2020); Echeverría (2021).

122

Baynham

also to be the most savage. We have already noted the fate of Mycalessus; it was not uncommon in the taking of a city for entire populations to be slaughtered or enslaved, especially when the victorious power wished to make an example of them. According to the Vulgate tradition, Alexander crucified over 2,000 Tyrian captives at the conclusion of the siege; mass carnage of the city’s remaining inhabitants was also recorded in the aftermath of Gaza.24 In the case of Tyre, Alexander could claim that the city had violated the ius gentium by executing his envoys who had come to negotiate peace prior to the siege (Curt. 4.2.15); however, it is also true that both sieges were demanding in terms of time and Alexander’s soldiers’ lives; the desire for revenge and booty would have also played its part. We turn now to the poliorkia of Philip II and Alexander III. In recent years E. W. Marsden, as well as David Whitehead and his collaborator, P. H. Blyth,25 has investigated the main ancient writers on siege warfare like Aeneas Tacticus and Athenaeus Mechanicus, the technical aspects and logistics of using siege engines like towers and catapults, and the expert engineers like Poseidonius, Polyidus, and his students, Diades and Charias, who designed these machines and supervised their use.26 Whitehead has also expressed skepticism about their effectiveness and deployment according to the individual context of the campaign, but engineered machines were certainly spectacular, and there is some evidence that their visual impressiveness alone could impact upon an enemy.27 Moreover, it is doubtful whether Alexander’s victories at Tyre, Massaga and Aornus would have happened without his siege train; although Alexander deployed his siege machines at Gaza, their effectiveness, as we noted earlier was compromised by the sandy terrain.28 Philip’s sieges of Perinthus and Byzantium in 340 and Alexander’s of Tyre and Gaza in 332 offer an interesting case for comparison. In all these campaigns—as with Alexander’s eastern sieges in Bactria, Sogdiana, and the Hindu Kush—the terrain and the locations’ defensive fortifications presented particular challenges. Philip laid siege to the city of Perinthus, located on a headland with a narrow isthmus at the northern end of the Propontis and a former member of Athens’ second confederacy (Diod. Sic. 16.74.2–76),29 in the 24 25 26 27 28 29

Curt. 4.4.17; Diod. Sic. 17.46.3–4; see below, also Atkinson (1980) 312–13. Marsden (1969, 1971); Whitehead and Blyth (2004). See Ath. Mech. W 10; Vitr. 10.13.3; Marsden (1971) 85. Whitehead and Blyth (2004) 176–87. Whitehead (2015); cf. Wheatley (2020); Baynham (2012). On Athenian anger at this attack on two former members of the Second Athenian Confederacy, see [Theopompus] BNJ 115 F-292; Dem. 18.87–88, 90–93; Plut. Phoc. 14.2–3.

The Sieges of Philip and Alexander

123

aftermath of his conquests in Thrace, and during a period of increasing tension with Athens. But Perinthus had evidently been in alliance with Philip since around 352; therefore, the reasons for his assault are not clear. It may have been to consolidate his Thracian victory, as some scholars have suggested,30 as well as to deny Athens naval or merchant traffic access. But taking control of a city so close to Black Sea traffic would have been very provocative to Athens—with whom Philip had also concluded a peace settlement back in 346.31 In the words of G. T. Griffith, Philip’s attack on Perinthus was the “first great siege of the Macedonian era.” It has been suggested that some form of artillery may have been used in the field by the Phocian general Onomarchus (Polyaenus, Strat. 2.38.2). But Perinthus was probably the first operation where the newly invented torsion catapult was used. It had a greater range than the non-torsion engine, although in Griffith’s opinion, the weapon was likely more lethal at a moderate distance. However, Philip’s lack of sea power, as well as Perinthus’ determined resistance and ingenuity, was to prove a crucial factor in the failure of the Macedonian campaign. Philip was unable to use his fleet to land supplies or troops on the promontory and he was also unable to lay a blockade within the harbor itself.32 Diodorus (16.76.1–3), drawing on Ephorus (16.76.5), explicitly says the location and the configuration of the city’s buildings helped its defense, even though Philip used heavy bombardment, deploying battering rams and catapults (16.76.3). The city’s houses were densely packed along the slope of the hill in rows of concentric circles like a theater. As soon as Philip’s forces punched breaches in the walls, the Perinthians closed the alleys and used the lower tiers of the houses as new walls. This type of counter wall, or lunette, was also used by the inhabitants of Halicarnassus and by the Rhodians during Demetrius Poliorcetes’ siege (Diod. Sic. 20.93.1; 97.4).33 The Perinthians also received a force of mercenaries, money, food, missiles, and other supplies from coastal Persian satraps who had been commanded to aid the city by the Persian king (Diod. Sic. 16.75.1–2). Moreover, Byzantium—which had also been in alliance with Philip since 352—sent its best commanders and soldiers, along with supplies and other resources to help Perinthus. As a result of this stout resistance, Philip divided his forces and leaving a group of experienced officers to continue the siege operation at Perinthus, took the other half of his force under his own command to attack Byzantium—taking 30 31 32 33

McQueen (1995) 151. On Philip’s motives, see Griffith in HM2, 566–72. HM2, 572. Bosworth (1980) 146.

124

Baynham

advantage of that city’s weakened position, given that a lot of its own men and resources were already based at Perinthus (Diod. Sic. 16.76.4). There is some evidence that Philip may have also sent a force to lay siege to Selymbria, a city to the east of Perinthus, which was also in alliance with Byzantium. In the meantime, Philip’s fleet appears to have been stationed around the Sea of Marmara, and despite the presence of Athenian warships under their general Chares guarding a convoy of grain ships, Philip’s forces managed to capture around 230 vessels—a prize which was said to have been worth 700 talents. The king must have also been aware that this act of piracy would provoke Athens into declaring war—which she duly did. Philip’s unsuccessful siege of Byzantium probably lasted about six months, from mid-autumn of 340 to around spring the following year. We have little detail of its operations, but as with Perinthus, Byzantium was not betrayed by its own citizens despite Philip’s apparent efforts to corrupt one of its leading figures, the philosopher Leon, a former pupil of the Academy.34 Philip also seems to have used his siege train to inflict damage on the walls, and a surprise assault on a wet night—all of which failed. In turn, Byzantium received help from Athens, along with several of its former allies from the Social War including Rhodes, Chios, Cos, and Tenedos.35 Philip decided to withdraw from both sieges. His siege train had failed to give him victory, direct assaults on both cities had been costly in lives, his fleet had proven ineffective, and at the time that he decided to cut his losses, it was still pinned in the Black Sea.36 He did not want to waste further precious resources on either siege, and he seems to have negotiated some kind of peace with both cities and their allies.37 It is not known how much these unsuccessful sieges damaged Philip’s prestige, for in a little over a year (338), he was to defeat Athens and Thebes at the field of Chaeronea, form the League of Corinth, and commence plans for a panhellenic crusade against Persia. In the siege of Tyre in 332, Alexander III—who inherited both Philip’s kingdom and his war upon his assassination in 336—faced both similar and different challenges from his father at Perinthus and Byzantium. As with the siege of Perinthus, the location of the city of wealthy Phoenician Tyre—an island off the ancient Syrian coast (now modern Lebanon)—presented difficulties. 34 35 36 37

Suda s.v. Leon. Diodorus (16.77.1–3) mentions Chios, Cos, and Rhodes. For Tenedos, see Tod 175 (Tenedos). See HM2, 580 nn. 2–3; Hammond (1967) 564. Byzantium is found after Philip’s death supporting Alexander’s operations along the Danube (Arr. Anab. 1.3.3).

The Sieges of Philip and Alexander

125

The strait of seawater—some four stadia wide (Curt. 4.2.7) or a little under 800 meters (using the modern calculation of a Greek stade as around 183 m)—was comparatively shallow, becoming deeper around the shores of the island, although according to Arrian (Anab. 2.18.3) only to a depth of three fathoms (about 5.5 m). However, Curtius describes (Curt. 4.2.7–8) a more challenging scenario—the strait was not only much deeper than Arrian depicts but also buffeted by strong winds, especially from the south-west (the African wind), which would make the task of constructing a mole out to the island far more difficult. The island—only some four miles2 in area—was heavily fortified by walls which were about 45.7 m high (Arr. Anab. 2.21.4; cf. 2.18.1–2; Curt. 4.2.9); even allowing for exaggeration,38 taking the city presented a formidable task. The circumstances that reportedly motivated Alexander to lay siege are clear. In the wake of the king’s victory over the Persian king Darius at Issus in 333, Alexander’s progress down the coast of Phoenicia was initially unimpeded. The cities of Byblos and Sidon surrendered (Arr. Anab. 2.15.6); Tyre, the wealthiest city in Phoenicia, sent envoys, including their own crown prince (Arr. Anab. 2.15.7) with gifts, provisions, and a golden crown. According to Curtius (4.2.2) they were seeking societas—alliance or association—with Alexander, rather than outright submission. This suggests that Tyre wished to retain some degree of independence or at least neutrality, rather than becoming a Macedonian vassal. From their perspective, Alexander’s future position was unknown; the Phoenicians retained their naval power, and the Persians were still in command of most of their empire.39 It is possible that the king was suspicious of the likelihood or the extent of Tyrian co-operation. Alexander’s arrival coincided with a Tyrian festival in honor of Melqart, whom the Macedonians equated with Heracles. Perhaps to test Tyrian good faith, Alexander declared that he wanted to sacrifice to Heracles within the island fortress at the sanctuary of their god. Such a request, regardless of any religious feeling, however genuine, was tantamount to surrender—by asking Tyre to open its gates to Alexander and his army.40 The Tyrian envoys initially offered an alternative (Curt. 4.2.4)—Alexander could offer sacrifice to Heracles at Old Tyre, about five kilometers south of the island (Strabo 16.2.24, 758).41 According to Arrian (Anab. 2.16.7), the Tyrians replied that they did not allow foreigners, neither Macedonians nor Persians, 38 39 40 41

Bosworth (1980) 247. Atkinson (1980) 295. Bosworth (1980) 235. Atkinson (1980) 295.

126

Baynham

into their city. Curtius (4.2.6) adds the detail that upon receiving menacing threats from Alexander, the Tyrian envoys tried to convince their countrymen to surrender—but they, confident of the strength of their location and urged on by Carthaginian offers of assistance (Curt. 4.2.10–11), decided to withstand the siege, and even publicly killed Alexander’s heralds whom the king had sent in a final attempt to broker peace (Curt. 4.2.15).42 Arrian (Anab. 2.17) outlines Alexander’s strategic reasons for besieging the city in one of the king’s speeches to his Companions and army unit commanders; bypassing Tyre would risk the Persians regaining control of the Phoenician coast. Bosworth is skeptical of the “security” argument, and he may well be right. Given Alexander’s refusal to walk away from challenges elsewhere, personal defiance may well have played a part.43 But as events were to prove, Alexander (unlike his father) was prepared to take high casualties, as given that the Persians were still a major contender, he could not afford a defeat. Alexander decided to build a mole or a causeway across the strait—a strategy similar to the one used by Dionysius I at Motya in 397 (Diod. Sic. 14.48.3; 51.1).44 But the campaign against Tyre was also a naval battle as much as a siege operation. The Tyrians used their ships to hamper the construction of the mole as well as Alexander’s efforts to mount siege engines upon his ships, and even used a fire ship, which seems to have been reasonably effective.45 It was not until Alexander gained the advantage at sea through not only constructing his own vessels, but using ships from Sidon and Cyprus that he was able to bring the siege machinery to task and start breaking the walls.46 Arrian’s account is both selective and compressed, and it is also clear from Curtius’ and Diodorus’ accounts that the Tyrians offered tough resistance; moreover, Alexander considered breaking off the siege more than once (Curt. 4.4.1; Diod. Sic. 17.42.6).47 Naval superiority turned the tables for Alexander, and the siege engines were also a decisive factor in breaching Tyre’s walls, to the extent that its defenders were unable to build replacement barricades in time. Engineering in the form of sapping (undermining walls by tunneling) was also to play a major part in giving Alexander success at Gaza, a campaign that took place a short time later.

42 43 44 45 46 47

Atkinson (1980) 298–99. Bosworth (1980) 238–39. Bosworth (1980) 239–40. Bosworth (1980) 240–41. See Roisman in this volume. Bosworth (1980) 66 with n. 131.

The Sieges of Philip and Alexander

127

But the ultimate deliverers of victory for their king were the army rank and file—Macedonians and their allies—the men who took part in the sheer brunt of the ferocious, final assault.48 The desperate response of Tyrian civilians varied. Some took refuge in their homes and committed suicide, others fled to the temples, some flung themselves upon the Macedonians in an attempt to take as many of the enemy with them as they could, others stayed on the roofs, showering their assailants with whatever weapons they could lay their hands on. Alexander decreed that anyone who was fighting back would be killed, and there is some evidence that the Tyrians prioritized the protection of their temples for their young people (Curt. 4.4.12–13). The death toll was horrendous. According to Curtius (4.4.15), the city of Sidon, one of Alexander’s allies, but friendly to Tyre, secretly saved some 15,000 Tyrians during the rampage, but nevertheless some 6,000 Tyrian soldiers were killed within the city’s ramparts, and 2,000 more executed by crucifixion (Curt. 4.4.17) along the shore of the mainland. Arrian omits the detail of the mass executions, but interestingly, the total figure that he gives (Anab. 2.24.4) for the Tyrian dead, 8,000, is the same as the combined figure of those killed in the fighting and those who were crucified. The casualties at Gaza were comparable; 10,000 Persian and Arabian inhabitants (Curt. 4.6.30); the Roman historian does not offer a figure for Alexander’s dead, but he does note that the victory was “not bloodless for the Macedonians” (nec Macedonibus incruenta victoria fuit). Their rage may have been increased not only by the cost and psychological impact of the previous siege, but also by the knowledge that their king had taken two wounds. Any time Alexander was wounded, his men seemed to go mad. During the assault on the Malli fortress in 325, when Alexander sustained a life-threatening wound from an arrow in the chest, the troops—who may have believed that Alexander was already dead49—surged over the walls and broke down the gates, storming into the city in their rush to take revenge, and killing everyone in their path. Perhaps the most ingenious of Alexander’s poliorkia was the conquest of the Sogdian Rock in 327 in which he deployed the famous ruse of the “winged soldiers.” We are immediately faced with a range of historical and historiographical problems, since Arrian’s narrative of the conquest and its sequel of Alexander’s marriage to the chieftain’s daughter, Roxane (Arr. Anab. 4.18.4–6), 48 49

See Brice in this volume. The anxiety of the army was evident during the king’s recovery after field surgery (cf. Arr. Anab. 6.12–13.2); as Alexander’s ship was approaching the army camp at the junction of the Hydraotes river (the modern Ravi) and the Acesines, he raised an arm to show them that he was still alive (Arr. Anab. 6.12.2; cf. Curt. 9.6.1–2; Diod. Sic. 17.99.4).

128

Baynham

diverges significantly in chronology. He puts the siege a year later in 327, and apparently in a different place from the other ancient sources. In Arrian’s text, the name of the chieftain who commanded the fortress is Oxyartes; however, two other Sogdian chieftains, Choriennes and Sisimithres, are also associated with mountain fortresses in alternative accounts.50 The actual location of the rock fortress where these “winged men” were used is unknown. According to the Vulgate tradition as well as Strabo (11.11.4 [517]) and Polyaenus (Strat. 4.3.29), it seems to have been north of the Oxus.51 Curtius’ version (7.11.1–19) offers the most detailed account besides Arrian, and he names the chieftain as Ariamazes. However, Arrian and Curtius both agree that the fortress was formidable—a massive rock crag, with Curtius stating that it was some thirty stadia high (a little under 5,500 meters) with a deep cavern in which to hide animals, women, and children, and ample reserves of food and water—enough for two years (Curt. 7.11.1–2; cf. Metz Epit. 15). Arrian adds the detail (Anab. 4.18.5) that the crag also contained deep drifts of snow, which could occur at such an altitude even in summer. Even allowing for some exaggeration from Curtius (or his source) the task for Alexander and his army was immense. Against such strong natural defenses, siege machinery would hardly be effective, while direct assault was suicidal, as the defenders could easily pick off any army’s attempt to swarm up the rock face. It is little wonder that the chieftain was so confident. Upon receiving Alexander’s envoy, Cophes, a son of the Persian satrap, Artabazus, who had been sent by the king to offer the chance of surrender, Ariamazes (or Oxyartes) laughed and asked whether Alexander could fly (Curt. 7.11.5). The taunt is also recorded by Arrian (Anab. 4.18.6) and Polyaenus (Strat. 4.3.29); in Arrian’s text, the natives advise the king to look for “soldiers with wings” since no other men would give them cause for concern. As at Tyre, Alexander immediately reacted to the provocation. He called for those soldiers who were experienced in rock climbing including men from the districts of Upper Macedonia who would have had to retrieve their sheep and goats from steep, rocky places (Curt. 7.11.7). There were about 300 climbers—the number is consistent in both Arrian (Anab. 4.19.1) and Curtius (7.11.6; cf. Metz Epit. 16)—as is Alexander’s promise of rich rewards to the men who reached the summit first. As Paul Cartledge has pointed out, this dangerous task, requiring the specialist skills that it did, was one of the few that Alexander chose not to undertake himself.52 The climbers 50 The source tradition on these sieges is complicated; see Bosworth’s thorough and penetrating analysis (1995) 124–27. 51 Cf. Metz Epit. 14–17, which names the chieftain as “Aramazes”; see Bosworth (1995) 125. 52 Cartledge (2004) 158.

The Sieges of Philip and Alexander

129

improvised pitons from tent pegs and took linen ropes, but could only carry light weaponry (Curt. 7.11.14). According to Arrian they made the ascent overnight (Anab. 4.19.2–3); Curtius, given his earlier statement on the height of the Rock, plausibly relates (7.11.14–21) that the climb took a night, and then a full day, with the mountaineers reaching the summit at nightfall, and holding their positions until the following dawn. The outcome was a monumental game of bluff. The mountaineers—some thirty (Arr. Anab. 4.19.2) or thirty-two (Curt. 7.11.19) of whom had perished during the ascent—waved linen flags according to a pre-arranged signal (Curt. 7.11.21; Arr. Anab. 4.19.3). Alexander sent his envoy to point the soldiers out to the Rock’s commander, who, mistakenly believing that his situation was hopeless, capitulated immediately (Curt. 7.11.28; Arr. Anab. 4.19.4). It is possible that Alexander’s growing reputation for invincibility may have played a part,53but it is also possible that prior negotiation may have factored in as well. This scenario relies heavily on the evidence of Arrian, who directly follows the capitulation of Oxyartes with the marriage of his daughter Roxane to Alexander. Arrian (Anab. 4.19.5) and Plutarch (Alex. 47. 7) famously describe this union as a love match—as does Curtius (8.4.25), who, although he also names Oxyartes as the bride’s father, places the wedding in a different location and context. But Alexander used negotiation elsewhere; during the campaign in the Swat Valley which followed the capture of the Sogdian Rock within the next year, at the siege of Massaga, Alexander secured the submission of the Assaceni through parley with Cleophis, the mother of the late eponymous king, Assacenus, and at the expense of his brother, Amminais, and a band of about 7,000–8,000 mercenaries—all of whom were slaughtered by the Macedonians while they were attempting to depart.54 At the Sogdian Rock, even if we discount the possibility of prior marriage negotiation as mere speculation, Alexander was clearly following his father’s policy in using marriage as a means of consolidating a victory and securing the loyalty of the region.55 Oxyartes’ status was raised overnight—not only was his daughter now the king’s wife, but in all likelihood, he would be the grandfather

53 Cf. Curtius (8.1.1), who claims that Alexander captured the Rock more by fama than gloria; cf. Bosworth’s discussion of Alexander’s exploitation of his reputation, particularly among his own soldiers, commanders, and “staff;” Bosworth (1996) 98–132. 54 Massaga massacre; cf. Arr. Anab. 4.26–27.4; Plut. Alex. 59.6; Diod. Sic. 17.84. For Cleophis, cf. Curt. 8.10.22–36; Just. Epit. 12.7.9–11; cf. Abramenko (1994) 192–207; Baynham (2012) 27–37. 55 On Philip’s marriage policy for strategic and political advantage see Carney (2000) 52–76; cf. Ogden (1999) 19–24; Anson (2020) 103–10.

130

Baynham

of the next Great King. The reactions of the Macedonians were far more hostile (cf. Curt. 8.4.29–30). It is a great story of a king who overcomes the challenge of almost impossible terrain in a seemingly preternatural way, but actually by using his wits and in doing so saves lives, which may have otherwise been expended in fruitless assault. And, at the end of it, a wedding with apparent reconciliation, and the promise of a bi-cultural future. While it is true that Arrian or his source, Ptolemy, may have garbled the narrative,56 it is also possible that literary priorities were high on Arrian’s agenda. For a similar example, Arrian (Anab. 6.26.1–3) located the episode of Alexander’s famous refusal of water in the desert when his thirsty army did not have water in the Gedrosia crossing rather than Hyrcania or Sogdiana as in the other sources.57 In this instance, Arrian openly acknowledged that other sources placed the story in other locations. But he also skillfully used it to deflect attention away from why the disastrous crossing had happened, because of Alexander’s desire to surpass predecessors like Cyrus or Semiramis (Arr. Anab. 6.24.2–3)—and instead focused on the king’s heroic self-abnegation. However, Curtius has a different ending to the siege of the rock fortress. In his account (7.11.28) the commander, Ariamazes, his family, and the leading nobles come down the mountain to personally surrender to Alexander. As at Tyre and Gaza, Alexander took revenge. All of these people were whipped and crucified at the foot of the Rock—and, like the death of Betis of Gaza, there is a brutal finality all too reminiscent of the not uncommon closure of siege warfare. Works Cited Abramenko, A. (1994) “Alexander vo Mazagae und Aornus: Korrkturen zu den Berichten über des Massaker an den indischen Söldern,” Klio 76: 192–207. Anson, E. M. (2020) Philip II, the Father of Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues. London. Anson, E. M. (2021) “Alexander the Great: A Life Lived as Legend,” in Walsh and Baynham (2021) 14–32. 56 Bosworth (1995) 124–26. 57 Cf. Plut. Alex. 42.6–10 (Hyrcania); Curt. 7.5.9–12 (Sogdiana). I am grateful to the editor, Professor Edward Anson, for the invitation to contribute to this volume, and also for his patience, and helpful contributions to this chapter; I would also like to thank the anonymous referees for Brill who offered helpful comments.

The Sieges of Philip and Alexander

131

Armstrong, J. and Trundle, M. (eds) (2019) Brill’s Companion to Sieges in the Ancient Mediterranean. Warfare in the Ancient Mediterranean World 3. Leiden. Atkinson, J. F. (1980) A Commentary on Q. Curius Rufus’ Historiae Alexandri Magni Books 3 and 4. Amsterdam. Baynham, E. (1998) Alexander the Great: The Unique History of Quintus Curtius. Ann Arbor, MI. Bosworth, A. B. (1980) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander, Vol. 1: Commentary on Books I–III. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1988) Conquest and Empire: The Reign of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Bosworth, A. B. (1995) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander, Vol. 2: Books IV–V. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1996) Alexander and the East: The Tragedy of Triumph. Oxford. Brice, L. L. (ed) (2020) New Approaches to Greek and Roman Warfare. Hoboken, NJ. Carney, E. D. (2000) Women and Monarchy in Macedonia. Norman, OK. Echeverría, F. (2021) “Notes on the Conceptualization of Poliorcetics in Archaic and Classical Greek Literature.” DHA 47.1: 71–95. Hamilton, J. R. (1969) Plutarch Alexander: A Commentary. Oxford. Hanson, V. D. (1989) The Western Way of War: Infantry Battle in Classical Greece. Berkeley. Hanson, V. D. (ed) (1991) Hoplites: The Classical Greek Battle Experience. London. Heckel, W. (2015) “Alexander, Achilles, and Heracles: Between Myth and History,” in Wheatley and Baynham (2015) 21–33. Hornblower, S. (2002) The Greek World, 479–323 BC. London. Konijnendijk, R. (2018) Classical Greek Tactics: A Cultural History. Leiden. Lazenby, J. (1991) “The Killing Zone,” in Hanson (1991) 87–109. Lendon, J. E. (2005) Soldiers and Ghosts: A History of Battle in Classical Antiquity. New Haven, CT. Maitland, J. (2015) “MHNIN AEIΔE ΘEA: Alexander the Great and the Anger of Achilles,” in Wheatley and Baynham (2015) 1–20. Marsden, E. W. (1969) Greek and Roman Artillery: Historical Development. Oxford. Martinez Morales, J. (2019) “Women on the Walls? The Role and Impact of Women in Classical Greek Sieges,” in Armstrong and Trundle (2019) 150–68. Müller, S. (2016) “Alexander, Dareios und Hephaistion. Fallhöhen bei Curtius Rufus,” in Wulfram (2016) 13–48. Ogden, D. (1999) Polygamy, Prostitutes and Death, the Hellenistic Dynasties. London. Pausch, D. (2016) “Alexander in der Toga? Techniken der Aktualisierung bei Curtius Rufus zwischen delectare und prodesse,” in Wulfram (2016) 73–98. Rance, P. and Sekunda, N. (eds) (2017) Greek Taktika: Ancient Military Writing and its Heritage. Gdansk. Sage, M. (1996) Warfare in Ancient Greece: A Sourcebook. London.

132

Baynham

Schellenberg, H. M. (2017) “Reflections on the Military Views of the ‘Military Writer’ Aeneas Tacticus,” in Rance and Sekunda (2017) 81–93. Seaman, M. (2020) “Early Greek Siege Warfare,” in Brice (2020) 29–38. Sears, M. (2019) Understanding Greek Warfare. New York. Spencer, D. (2002) The Roman Alexander. Exeter. Stoneman, R. (2016) “The Origins of Quintus Curtius’ concept of Fortuna,” in Wulfram (2016) 301–22. Trundle, M. (2019) “The Introduction of Siege Technology into Classical Greece,” in Armstrong and Trundle (2019) 134–49. Van Wees, H. (ed) (2000) War and Violence in Ancient Greece. Swansea. Van Wees, H. (2004) Greek Warfare: Myth and Realities. London. Walsh, J. and Baynham, E. (eds) (2021) Alexander the Great and Propaganda. London. Wheatley, P. and Baynham, E. (eds) (2015) East and West in the World Empire of Alexander: Essays in Honour of Brian Bosworth. Oxford. Wheatley, P. and Dunn, C. (2020) Demetrius the Besieger. Oxford. Wheeler, E. (ed) (2007) The Armies of Classical Greece. Burlington, VT. Whitehead, D. (1990) Aineias the Tactician: How to Survive Under Siege. New York. Whitehead, D. and Blyth, P. H. (2004) Athenaeus Machanicus, On Machines. Stuttgart. Wulfram, H. (ed) (2016) Der römische Alexanderhistoriker Curtius Rufus. Erzähltechtik, Rhetorik, Figurenpsychologie and Rezeption. Vienna.

Part 2 The Combatants

∵

Chapter 6

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry of Philip II and Alexander the Great Graham C. L. Wrightson The Macedonian infantry was the bedrock of the armies of both Philip II and Alexander the Great. The successes of these soldiers began an era of military dominance for a hundred and fifty years that ended only with the arrival of the Roman legions in Greece in the early second century BCE.1 Though the sarissa phalanx was the infamous strength of Macedonian and Macedonian-style armies from Philip II to Mithridates VI of Pontus, Macedonian infantry included numerous other types of units. This chapter will go in turn through the main two units of Macedonian heavy infantry in the armies of Philip II and Alexander, the phalanx, including the asthetairoi under Alexander, and the hypaspists, which was the elite veteran unit under Alexander known previously as the pezhetairoi under Philip. It will examine each unit’s armament and battle roles, training, command structure, and recruitment. The chapter will demonstrate the professionalism of the Macedonian infantry and why it was so important both to the conquering armies of Philip and Alexander and to all the armies that followed for the next two hundred and fifty years. 1

The Macedonian Army under Philip II

Philip II of Macedon was the youngest of the three sons of Amyntas III who all became king of Macedon in the first half of the fourth century. In his youth, Philip lived in Thebes as a hostage at the house of Pammenes, an influential commander.2 During his three years there, Philip saw the influence of Epaminondas and Pelopidas, the two Theban commanders who began the military revolu­tion in tactics in the 360s as Thebes replaced Sparta as Hegemon of 1 All dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated. 2 Diod. Sic. 15.67.4. Cf Plut., Pel. 26. Diodorus (16.2) outlines the type of education Philip received, though wrongly asserting it was at the house of Epaminondas. See Gabriel (2010); Grainger (2007); Anson (2020).

© Graham C. L. Wrightson, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_008

136

Wrightson

Greece. Philip witnessed firsthand the Theban hoplite phalanx and the Theban use of heavy cavalry as an offensive arm alongside hoplites pioneered by Pelopidas, an unusual military method at that time in Greece.3 When Philip returned from Thebes to Macedon during his brother Perdiccas III’s reign in 365, Perdiccas gave Philip some territory in which he kept his own force.4 From this force Philip likely trained some as hoplites. Five years later Perdiccas died in battle against the Illyrians, leaving Philip with the kingly authority probably as the regent for Perdiccas’ young son Amyntas IV.5 The only detail we have about this devastating Macedonian defeat is that 4,000 soldiers died alongside their king (Diod. Sic. 16.2.5). We do not know what type of soldiers these were, but their number is such that it left a yawning hole in the Macedonian army. That the king died, who usually fought with the Companion Cavalry, suggests that many of the 4,000 were the aristocratic hetairoi of the king. Diodorus states that the Macedonian soldiers were at a loss how they would fight against the Illyrians (Diod. Sic. 16.3.1), and the two other claimants for the throne (Diod. Sic. 16.2.6). Philip had to not only face down the victorious Bardylis but also deal with two claimants to the royal throne from a rival Macedonian family, Pausanias and Argaeus.6 The latter had possibly already ruled as king of Macedon briefly thirty-five years earlier from 393 to 392 (Diod. Sic. 14.92.4). Philip dealt swiftly with both usurpers. First, he strategically withdrew from Amphipolis to appease Athenian support for his rival Argaeus, though crucially making it autonomous to thwart Athenian attempts at regaining control over the city (Diod. Sic. 16.3.3). Then he bribed the Paeonians to stay away, and further bribed another Thracian king (Diod. Sic. 16.3.4) to prevent Pausanias’ invasion after the previous king supporting him died (conveniently for Philip!). Next, Philip ambushed Argaeus’ army outside Methone as Argaeus retreated from an unsuccessful attempt to have the Macedonians at Aegae crown him king.7 3 On Pelopidas’ innovative tactics, see Wrightson (2019) 150–56. 4 Ath. 11.506.e–f. It is not clear where this land was nor how large was the force under Philip’s command. Various scholars have made suggestions as to location. See Anson (2010b) 58–59 for a detailed analysis of the possible locations. See also King (2018) 71 and n. 8 for a useful summary. 5 Diod. Sic. 16.2.4. As regent Just. Epit. 7.5.8–10. See Heckel (2016) 287–90. 6 On this family see King (2018) 54 n. 38. 7 Diod. Sic. 16.3.5. Anson (2010b, 54–57) examines in detail the nature of Philip’s forces and the context of the ambush. Nobody comments how Argaeus was repelled from Aegae. Though we cannot know Argaeus’ motives, it seems that Argaeus wanted to gain the support of those in the city rather than capture it. If he did try to take the city and had all 3,000 Athenian mercenary hoplites with him then the forces at Aegae must have been substantial in order to resist his assault. And this despite the consensus that Macedon did not field a strong force of hoplites. Perhaps Argaeus was not prepared for a siege, or he had hoped to be

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry

137

Philip need not have had a large army to accomplish any of these things, he just needed enough that on surprising Argaeus he would be able to overcome any resistance. Undoubtedly, his personal force helped significantly, especially if Anson is right that all 3,000 of Argaeus’ Athenian mercenaries accompanied him.8 Nonetheless, after dealing with these immediate problems Philip was able to advance against the Paeonians and Bardylis of Illyria in less than a year. Diodorus is clear that Philip spent the time immediately following his accession in training the Macedonians for the first time in fighting in a phalanx (Diod. Sic. 16.3.2). He states that he gathered them, exhorted them, organized them, equipped them with suitable weapons (probably sarissas), and “held constant maneuvers of the men under arms and competitive drills,” (Diod. Sic. 16.3.1, Loeb translation). Training to excel in a hoplite phalanx takes time and hoplite equipment is expensive. However, the sarissa phalanx requires less training to become a competent defensive formation and is significantly cheaper to equip.9 Even in such a short space of time, Philip was able to create a sarissa phalanx out of his demoralized light infantry (the traditional infantry force of northern Greece)10 and bring them to battle successfully against Argaeus, the Paeonians, and Bardylis. Though we hear only that Philip defeated the Paeonians in battle (Diod. Sic. 16.4.2), this must have been the first real test of his new phalanx on a battlefield after the ambush of Argaeus and a proving ground before the more important assault on Bardylis. All the previous Macedonian kings had been unable to subdue the neighboring tribes in battle, yet Philip did so resoundingly twice in only a few months. The difference must surely be the increased military ability of his army now reliant on the sarissa phalanx. Philip’s subsequent victory over Bardylis at Heraclea Lyncestis was an unmitigated triumph and a significant display of his military prowess.11 The welcomed in and when he was not he was unwilling to force his way in. In my view, there must have been some military forces present to guard the city even if Philip was elsewhere with his main forces. For such a large force of hoplites to withdraw suggests an equal defensive force of heavy infantry if Argaeus ever intended to launch an attack. Philip’s speed of movement certainly surprised Argaeus. 8 Anson (2010b) 55. 9 Anson (2010b, 64) makes the same argument that a sarissa phalanx is useful precisely because it is cheap to employ. See also Matthew (2015, 2023). 10 Anson (2010b) 59–61 analyzes in detail the archaeological evidence for the type of light infantry common in Thrace, Illyria and Macedonia. Anson also argues that Alexander I of Macedon first introduced hoplites. See also Wrightson (2025). 11 Diod. Sic. 16.4.3–7 and 8.1; Frontin. Str. 2.3.2. King (2018, 73) echoes Griffith (HM2, 214) and Anson (2010b, 54) that this victory was a landmark victory as crucial for Macedon as Leuctra was for Thebes.

138

Wrightson

battle also serves as the first somewhat detailed evidence for the Macedonian army under Philip. We only have vague details of the battle, but there is enough evidence to understand what happened. Philip’s army relied on a strong force holding the center while he ordered the cavalry to ride around and attack the enemy flank on their left wing. Philip led his elite infantry in an assault against that same Illyrian left wing. Frontinus praises Philip for noticing that the enemy formation was weaker on its flanks because they had drawn the best men from throughout the army to reinforce the front ranks (Frontin. Str. 2.3.2). Diodorus, however, states (16.4.6) that Bardylis formed his men into a square and advanced and that the battle raged equally for a long time. Yet the square formation occurred only after Philip’s cavalry had outflanked them. It must be the case that Bardylis’ army formed into a square when they realized they were outflanked so as not to be surrounded or attacked from the rear. The Illyrians, just like the Thracians, usually relied on light infantry and had little training or organization in battle, as had the Macedonian infantry before Philip.12 Yet at this battle Diodorus’ account implies that the Illyrians fought in an organized formation, likely a hoplite phalanx. Florian Feil recently argued convincingly that the Illyrians developed a successful core of hoplites in the late fifth century and it was those hoplites that were the catalyst for the gains made by Bardylis.13 We know from Heraclea Lyncestis that Philip used a mass of infantry in the center to win the battle. There is nothing to prove that this was a phalanx formation. Frontinus states that Bardylis had reinforced the front ranks of his infantry with his best troops. There must have been a reason to do so. If Philip’s infantry fought in a phalanx formation, as hoplites or armed with sarissas, Bardylis would need his best men in the front ranks if he had any hope of winning the battle. This suggests to me that Philip’s infantry and Bardylis’ here did fight in a phalanx. Unfortunately, we do not have any evidence about precisely the nature of the mass of infantry that Philip used nor of the elite troops. Diodorus states that Philip brought 10,000 infantry alongside his best infantry and cavalry.14 This force must have been the 10,000 soldiers who had proven most adept at learning to fight with the sarissa and maintain the phalanx formation, which was new to them only a few months earlier. His best infantry was certainly the personal bodyguard (pezhetairoi) he had trained before his brother’s death. 12 See Anson (2010b) 59–61 and Wilkes (1992). 13 See Feil (2024). 14 There are many problems with the numbers given in ancient sources. See Holt (2016) 11–13 and nn. 44 and 49.

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry

139

Bardylis brought 10,000 of his picked infantry. That he felt the need to bring his best forces having just won a resounding victory over the same enemy demonstrates that Philip’s army seemed to Bardylis more formidable. This was probably because of the sarissa phalanx. Unfortunately, we have no details on the units of Philip’s army and so we must draw on evidence from elsewhere to reconstruct the organization of the Macedonian infantry. Much of our knowledge of the Macedonian army comes from the reign of Alexander III and the Successors. Alexander inherited the same army from his father Philip, which he altered in only minor ways, primarily by changing the name of the elite troops and incorporating more foreign troops into the army. 2

The Sarissa Phalanx

2.1 Armament Philip’s army and Macedonian infantry in general became synonymous with the use of the sarissa phalanx. The sarissa was a long spear, or pike, held with two hands and likely having a butt spike to act as a counterbalance for the blade at its tip. It was a heavy weapon to wield but benefited from significant power in a frontal thrust.15 It was around fifteen feet in length in the time of Philip and Alexander but was lengthened in the Hellenistic period to eighteen, twenty-one, and even perhaps twenty-four feet.16 Phalangites armed with sarissas could not hold shields as well and thus their shields hung from their shoulders and attached at the forearms as protection. They wore helmets and likely a linothorax (linen body armor), since it was lighter though no less defensive than a bronze cuirass.17 They also usually had a short sword for defensive use if their sarissa broke or if they had to fight in close quarters where the length of the sarissa made it impracticable.

15 Markle (1977) 324. Cf. Matthew (2015). 16 Theophrastus (Hist. pl. 3.12.2) states that the length of the longest Macedonian sarissa was twelve cubits, or eighteen feet, and Asclepiodotus (Tactica 5.1) states that the shortest was ten cubits, or fifteen feet, long. On the physical difficulties of fighting with a heavy sarissa and analyses of the power of its thrust in different positions and attacks, see Matthew (2015). However, from my own experiments with a sarissa phalanx fifteen to eighteen feet is the optimal length to maximize reach and power in the thrust while keeping the weapon at a manageable weight to fight for any length of time. 17 See Aldrete et al. (2013).

140

Wrightson

2.2 Implementation of the Sarissa It is impossible to know for certain when the Macedonian phalanx began to use the sarissa.18 The long pike was in use in Thrace and the Athenian mercenary commander Iphicrates equipped his army with longer spears possibly adopted from Egyptian hoplites.19 Iphicrates served with distinction in Macedon, defending from attacks Philip II’s father Amyntas III, who honored him with adoption as a son.20 It is possible that Iphicrates’ influence induced the Macedonian army to adopt the sarissa in the reign of Amyntas or Philip’s brother Alexander II. A fragment of Anaximines credits an Alexander with creating the pezhetairoi (Anaximines FGrH 72 F 4). Greenwalt argues this was Alexander II and his reforms led to his assassination.21 The one main problem with this conclusion is the disastrous defeat that Alexander’s successor Perdiccas III suffered. If he too had commanded a sarissa phalanx inherited from his brother, he should have had a key military advantage over the Thracian hoplite infantry soldiers of Bardylis just as Philip demonstrated at Heraclea and at Chaeronea against Athenian and Theban hoplites. That Perdiccas lost over 4,000 soldiers suggests a disastrous battle. We have no details of it but if it involved a phalanx, perhaps the unit was attacked in the flank or rear thus exposing its vulnerability. The death of the king, Perdiccas, who would have led the cavalry, suggests that the cavalry force at least was overwhelmed. This annihilation of the cavalry as a flank protection for the phalanx would have exposed the infantry to devastating flank and rear attacks, thus causing the carnage implied by such a high casualty total. His force was thus more likely to be overwhelmed by a superior army of infantry and cavalry commanded by Bardylis. Anson argues that all Macedonian kings after Alexander I fielded a small bodyguard of hoplites.22 Juhel adds that Alexander I created a small bodyguard of pezhetairoi based on his contact with the Persian Empire.23 Juhel also argues that Alexander I implemented a standard uniform and equipment furnished 18 For an excellent treatment of all the sources and arguments, see Anson (2010b). 19 Thracian pikes: see Best (1969), in particular pages 7, 102–104, 139–42; Lendon (2005) 96–97. Egyptian pikes: Xenophon Cyr. 6.2.10; 7.1.33. For Iphicrates’ influence on Macedon, see in particular Griffith (1981). 20 Sekunda (2014); Matthew (2015) 1–46. 21 Greenwalt (2017). See also Greenwalt (2007, 2015) and the discussion in King (2018) 107–10. 22 Anson (2010b) 61–62 (see below under pezhetairoi also). See also Wrightson (2025). 23 Juhel (2017a). I would also add to that Alexander I’s observations of the Greeks during the Greco-Persian Wars in which he served as an adviser to Xerxes. See also Juhel (2017b).

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry

141

by the state. The unit of hoplites still remained too small to be decisive on the battlefield, since most of Alexander’s successors as Argead kings could not prevent a series of foreign invasions and resounding defeats. The unrivalled immediate successes of Philip despite so many initial disadvantages, and Diodorus’ statement that Bardylis brought only his best infantry to fight Philip, suggest that he was the first to implement a sarissa phalanx. This is the only explanation for why, all of a sudden, the Macedonian army immediately after Philip’s accession went from being utterly incapable of securing even Lower Macedon against external enemies to winning three significant battles (defeating Argaeus, the Paeonians, and Bardylis) inside one year. Philip trained his own private small force for a few years before he became king, and this would provide him with the time to train a phalanx with a new weapon. However, this was only a small force that probably became his elite bodyguards, on whom more later. Perdiccas did not provide the resources for his brother to train an entire phalanx of over 10,000 soldiers. The time between Philip’s accession to the throne and his battle with Bardylis took just over a year. In this same period, he very speedily dealt with multiple threats to his reign and fought one early military engagement, the ambush on Argaeus. Yet this did not prevent him finding a block of time to train his army with a new weapon. In fact, Diodorus states clearly that he immediately began training his men and implemented a new phalanx formation perhaps even before dealing with Argaeus. At Philip’s first major battle for which we have details, Heraclea Lyncestis, the nature of the infantry is not clear. Frontinus’ praise suggests Philip used a phalanx. Since Philip had been training his own hoplites for years beforehand, the simplest suggestion is that this phalanx was hoplites. However, the advantage of the length of the sarissa increasing the time to contact with the enemy would have bought time for Philip’s cavalry and elite infantry of his personal retinue of hoplites to break the left flank of the Illyrian formation. Faced with sarissas Bardylis needed his best men in the front ranks, but he was unable to close with the Macedonians to inflict much damage before Philip won on the flank. Philip’s elite troops were likely hoplites, but more on that below. The first mention of a sarissa is when Philip was wounded in the thigh by one in 339 in Thrace by the Triballi.24 Unfortunately, there is absolutely no concrete evidence in any text of Philip using the sarissa in any of his early battles before Chaeronea. There is also little archaeological evidence. Part of the problem archaeologically stems from the fact that it is difficult to determine for 24 Ps-Dem. 11.22. Markle includes a detailed discussion on the wound and whether it was received from his own men or from the enemy: Markle (1978) 481–82.

142

Wrightson

certain what was the size of a sarissa head. Some scholars argue for smaller bullet shaped sarissa heads, like those found on medieval pikes, which proved excellent at piercing shields and armor.25 Others argue for the huge spear head found in Philip II’s tomb in Vergina excavated by Andronikos.26 Such a large head with a wider surface area at its point and blade would not penetrate armor efficiently but would be effective at slicing arteries in the neck or legs. Very few examples of the larger style are found, and those of the smaller style could easily be confused for javelin or arrow heads.27 The only reliable evidence concerning the date of the use of sarissas is that sarissa heads appear in the burial mound of the Macedonians at Chaeronea in 338, Philip’s last battle. Plutarch records that Alexander’s cavalry charged and defeated the Theban Sacred Band and that this was the first occasion the Sacred Band lost (Plut. Alex. 9.2). Plutarch in describing the Sacred Band states (Pelopidas 18.5) that at Chaeronea “after the battle Philip was surveying the dead and stopped at the place where the three hundred were lying, all where they had faced and met his sarissas with their armor and mingled with one another, he was amazed,” but this might suggest cavalry sarissas. It is clear from Diodorus and Plutarch that Alexander’s cavalry defeated the Sacred Band but there is no definitive evidence for the cavalry sarissa in the Macedonian army rather than a cavalry lance that was shorter in length.28 Certainly, after Chaeronea the Macedonian phalanx always used the sarissa in pitched battle. The phalangites also used spears and shields, the traditional hoplite armament, when the occasion made sarissas impractical. The most obvious case is in sieges. It is impossible to climb a siege ladder or tower holding a sarissa with both hands and the large hoplite shield adds better protection from missiles coming from above. On board ships, in woods, or traversing mountainous defiles the infantry also relied on spears and shields. 2.3 Battle Roles The sarissa phalanx became the principal military unit associated most with Macedonian style armies of the next two hundred years. Crucially, the sarissa phalanx was only effective when used in combination with other units, particularly heavy cavalry, in a combined arms system.29 When sources talk about Macedonian infantry this is the unit to which they refer. 25 26 27 28 29

See Devine (1996). See Andronikos (1970); Connolly (2000). See Sekunda (2001). See Connolly (2000) for experiments with both infantry and cavalry sarissas. Wrightson (2022) xi–xxx. See also Wrightson (2015b), (2019) 161–67. See also Anson (2010b) 65–66.

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry

143

Fighting with such a heavy weapon in a tight phalanx formation the sarissa phalangite was a heavy infantryman. The distinction between heavy and light infantry is not one of weight of weapons or armor but of battlefield uses.30 The main role of heavy infantry in whatever form was always to engage the enemy in hand-to-hand combat in a melee, usually in the center of a battlefield. Medium infantry, such as Celtic and Germanic warbands, usually fought in a similar way but were less effective in close quarter combat because of a lack of armor, though they also could move faster and so could link with cavalry or light troops better than heavy infantry. Thus, as heavy infantry, the main role of the sarissa phalanx was to hold the center of the battle line and advance to engage the enemy in hand-to-hand combat. Because of the weight and length of the sarissa and the need to maintain a tight phalanx formation, the sarissa phalanx usually advanced very slowly.31 This served to keep the enemy center in place for longer and allowed time for faster units like cavalry or other infantry to attack the enemy line elsewhere. This became the standard tactics of all Macedonian-style armies from Philip II in 359 down to Mithridates VI of Pontus in the 60s. The principal disadvantage of the sarissa phalanx was its inflexibility and slowness. Since the sarissa was such a large weapon, when lowered a unit could not turn to its sides quickly. On the right unshielded side of a soldier the phalanx was particularly vulnerable with lowered weapons. To change face and deal with a flanking attack phalangites had to raise their sarissa fully vertical, turn towards the enemy and lower the long weapons, or march with them down at an angle to change their front. The very act of lowering the sarissa was a complicated endeavor without hitting the men behind with the butt spike.32 Thus, once engaged with the enemy or with sarissas lowered it was nearly impossible for a phalanx to turn and face an attack coming from the flanks or rear. 30 Wrightson (2019) 14–18. Light infantry had little armor and thus were mobile. They could run into or away from battle easily and thus usually functioned as skirmishers. Light infantry scouted and had spears or swords usually that allowed them to engage in hand-to-hand combat, if necessary, but they were at a great disadvantage doing so against heavy infantry. Those armed with javelins, slings, bows or other missile weapons we usually class as missile infantry, are a separate class of troops. These missile troops invariably remained at a distance and pelted the enemy with missiles. Some units also wore armor and had swords allowing them to engage at close quarters if needed. 31 We do not have any evidence for the sarissa phalanx advancing at a run, but early modern pike formations were trained to run at the enemy, so running with a pike in a more open formation is entirely possible. 32 In my experience with testing these weapons it is the part of the training that takes the most practice.

144

Wrightson

Another problem, overexaggerated by Polybius,33 was the possibility of gaps appearing within the formation of the sarissa phalanx. If the phalanx crossed rough or uneven terrain such as rivers, ditches, or rocky mountainsides, gaps could appear between individual ranks and units. These gaps would expose the soldiers in the phalanx if the enemy could go through and get past the sharp ends of the sarissa to engage at close quarters. However, expertly trained phalanxes, such as those led by Philip and Alexander, were able to cross such obstacles and did not encounter too many difficulties that brought about defeat. The failures against Rome emphasized by Polybius of Philip V at Cynoscephalae and Perseus at Pydna involved poorly trained phalanxes and deficiencies in overall generalship. These contributed more to their defeats against the Romans than the gaps in the phalanx.34 The tactics employed by Philip at his main battles became the principal method of fighting a battle with a sarissa phalanx for the next 300 years. The phalanx held the center, with its vulnerable flanks protected by other units, while the heavy cavalry attacked on the right wing. The elite heavy infantry regiment, especially under Alexander, linked the slow phalanx to the faster cavalry attack, thus preventing gaps appearing in the battle line. This method is known as the hammer and anvil. The phalanx is the anvil in the center onto which the cavalry hammer drives the enemy. Alexander inherited his father’s army and continued to develop the Macedonian reliance on the sarissa phalanx. Throughout his battles, Alexander did not make any significant changes to the sarissa phalanx in terms of form or function. He relied on it to hold the center of his line in all his pitched battles and used the sarissa phalangites in sieges and all his other campaigns. The only change Alexander instigated was to enroll Persians into the phalanx and create a mixed phalanx of light missile troops and pikemen (Arr. Anab. 7.23.3–4).35 The description of the unit provides insight into the command structure of the phalanx as discussed below. The evidence from Alexander’s army can tell us a little more about recruitment and origins of the different regiments in the phalanx, while also demonstrating the command pathway for officers in the army.

33 Polyb. 18.28–32 on his criticisms of the phalanx, section 31 deals with the gaps in the formation. For a detailed counterargument to Polybius’ criticisms, see Wrightson (2022) 74–100. 34 On these battles see Wrightson (2022) 74–100, in particular 86–89 and 99–100. 35 See Olbrycht (2017).

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry

145

2.4 Training The one main piece of evidence that we do have about Philip’s army is that he trained his men very well and they were able to fight year-round, unlike many armies of the time. This training to a professional standard is what set the Macedonian army apart from other contemporary forces.36 Diodorus states (16.3): “After altering for the better the military units and equipping the men appropriately with weapons of war he held continuous maneuvers under arms and training exercises under combat conditions.” Polyaenus adds that (4.2.10) “He made them take up their arms and march often three hundred stades carrying helmet, shield, greaves, sarissa, and in addition to their arms, rations, and all equipment for day-to-day living.” Demosthenes (9.50) also says that for his campaigns there was “no difference between summer or winter.” Philip seems to have emphasized training in hardships as better to enable long-distance campaigns, which is perhaps a result of how far Philip expanded his kingdom. He often led armies into many different regions within the same campaigning season. Under Philip, the Macedonian army outperformed all its rivals principally because of its incredible level of training. This was, perhaps, another aspect of generalship the Macedonian kings learned from their association with Iphicrates. The Athenian mercenary commander won great renown for how well trained his army was. He is the commander that Polyaenus credits with the most innovations in his Stratagemata, totaling sixty-three. The most compelling example of training he records is as follows: Iphicrates used to exercise his troops in all the various events, that might occur in warfare: sham sallies, ambushes, betrayals, revolts, surprises and panics; so that if any of these were really practised by the enemy, or required from his own troops, they would in either case be experienced and ready.37 36

We have little evidence of Greek hoplite training practices. The Greeks employed traveling teachers of hoplite drill, called hoplomachoi, but exactly what they taught and how is still a mystery. Plato’s Laches discusses the usefulness of what these teachers covered (Plato, Laches, 179d–183c). Plato elsewhere comments (Laws 814e–815a) that hoplite training involved Pyrrhic dancing. Socrates (Ath. 628F) described the best dancers as being the best in battle. The hoplomachoi gave public displays of their abilities which involved dance competitions (Pl. Leg. 833E; Pl. Lach. 181E–82B. Competitions: Lysias, Defence 21.1–4). It is fun to imagine these dance competitions like modern breakdancing dance battles but they were probably more like Capoeira or Akkido competitions. See Wrightson (forthcoming). 37 Polyaenus, Strat. 3.32, translation Krentz and Wheeler. As discussed above, Iphicrates may have been the first to introduce the sarissa into Macedonian warfare.

146

Wrightson

Iphicrates was the unrivaled master of the devious aspects of the art of war because he planned and prepared his men to be ready for them. Philip adopted the same policy, training his army to be ready to fight anywhere at any time of year. Both commanders achieved so many successes because they trained their army constantly for any eventuality at a time when most armies only gathered for specific campaigns or engagements. Demosthenes (9.49), commenting on the nature of the troops that Philip used in fast forced marches, says that “you hear of Philip marching wherever he wishes not because he leads a phalanx of hoplites but because he depends on light infantry, cavalry, archers, mercenaries and such troops.” Certainly, these lighter troop types made marching over distance easier, but Philip gained his successes through his excellent Macedonian heavy infantry not through other types. It was perhaps strange to Demosthenes that a large army of citizen troops raised at home and serving for an extended campaigning season could be trained to such a standard. Undoubtedly, the professional nature of the entire Macedonian infantry force was an alien concept to the amateur citizen hoplite phalanxes of most Greek poleis. Though some states, such as Sparta, Thebes, and Elis, had small professional units of well-trained hoplites, no polis could field a whole phalanx of 10,000 or more trained to such a high standard. Alexander’s army was similarly well-trained. Clearly, throughout his campaign his army was able to march vast distances through all types of topography and climate. He led his army to fight battles across rivers, up mountainsides, and against cities. He marched them through deserts, forests and over high mountain ranges. Moreover, for Alexander we have evidence of the level of field drills the phalanx was able to implement at a given command. In Illyria when surrounded by the enemy in the high ground and a fortified city behind, Alexander in the plain had his phalanx together with the cavalry conduct silent drill maneuvers in full view of the enemy (Arr. Anab. 1.6.1–4).38 Once the drill ended and they marched to attack, the Illyrians fled rather than face such a disciplined force. Arrian states that Alexander arrayed the phalanx 120 ranks deep with 200 horsemen on either wing. The phalangites then raised their sarissas vertically and on command dropped them ready to attack. Alexander continued giving commands that the phalanx carried out in silence, first moving their weapons to the right then the left. Then the phalanx moved forward wheeling left and right repeatedly and executing other formations until at the end the left part of the phalanx formed a spearhead formation and moved forwards to attack the enemy. 38

See also Wrightson (2015a).

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry

147

For a phalanx 120 files deep to be able to accomplish silent drill, one of the hardest maneuvers even in modern armies, demonstrates just how much training the Macedonian army had.39 This episode took place early in Alexander’s reign and the soldiers who fought in the phalanx certainly had trained in these maneuvers under Philip. Though we do not have the complete order of the drills that Alexander’s phalanx executed, the account demonstrates that the high level of training implemented was so unusual that it terrified the enemy into retreat. This description of the drills also adds veracity to the various drills of the phalanx described in the Hellenistic tactical manuals. Asclepiodotus and Aelian are the two fullest tactical manuals that describe the movements of the phalanx. Arrian also has a manual that is virtually identical to that of Aelian. In each case, the manuals describe in detail the drill maneuvers the phalanx is trained to accomplish in battle or on the march.40 Even if these tactical manuals were philosophical exercises, they nonetheless contain historical facts, and we should conclude that the armies of Alexander and Philip did indeed carry out the commands and maneuvers described.41 The Macedonian phalanx was the best-trained large body of soldiers anywhere in the world at the time. Its training provided it with every advantage in battle and discipline while on the march. Philip and Alexander achieved their great successes based almost entirely on the literally awe-inspiring training Philip instituted for the phalanx. The disastrous failures of subsequent Macedonian kings, such as Philip V at Cynoscephalae and Perseus at Pydna, prove the overriding importance of training for the phalanx to enjoy success on any battlefield or terrain.

39 Aelian (VH 41.1) in his manual emphasizes the need for the phalanx to conduct drill in silence so that the soldiers can hear the commands. His quotations from the Iliad (41.1 quoting as good practice the silence of the Achaeans, Iliad 4.428–431; 3.8–9; and 41.2–41.3 the bad practice of the noise of the Trojans, Iliad 2.459–463; 4.436–7; 3.1–2 and 3.8–9) show that this occurred in Greek phalanxes throughout history and must have been standard training. However, silently attacking the enemy was not the normal occurrence in ancient warfare, see Gersbach (2022). 40 Asclepiodotus section 10 deals with the names for the battlefield drill maneuvers and section 12, the last section of his work, explains how to conduct those same drills. Aelian Tactics sections 24–35 covers the same material. Both authors also describe the distinct maneuvers used while marching: Asclepiodotus section 11, which is brief, and Aelian sections 36–42, which are the very last in the entire manual. 41 For this argument see Wrightson (2015a). I have since trained a unit of the phalanx to carry out the drills in Asclepiodotus and they are easily achievable with only minimal training.

148

Wrightson

2.5 Internal Command Structure of the Phalanx42 For Philip’s army we do not have any information about how the sarissa phalanx was organized. We do know that Philip had a number of key commanders leading sections of the army. The most successful became commanders under Alexander also. We know, also, of a system of pages for the sons of aristocrats, who functioned as grooms and bodyguards around the king’s tent.43 This system provided military leadership training in the army. After graduation, these pages likely became junior officers in the Macedonian infantry, though at what level is unclear. Asclepiodotus (2.9) in his tactical manual states that in the earliest phalanx the main tactical unit was of 128 commanded by an officer.44 Asclepiodotus states that this officer stood alongside the adjunct signalers and messengers to convey orders and that a unit of 128 was the most for someone to hear orders given by voice.45 Lower-ranking officers below this unit commander likely needed some experience or training to learn when and how to give orders and to receive and convey messages from the senior regimental commander. Alexander began his invasion with six phalanx regiments. Much later in the campaign he received reinforcements at Susa of a seventh regiment.46 From calculations of troop totals given in the sources, we can assign 1,500 men to each regiment for 9,000 total phalanx troops in the army. This increased to 10,500 after the arrival of a seventh regiment at Susa. The Hellenistic tactical manuals provide a breakdown of the different subordinate units in the phalanx. Though philosophers wrote these manuals centuries later, they likely contain elements of truth in the basic organization of a phalanx.47 Arrian’s description of the Persian phalanx Alexander threatened to create describes the command structure of the base unit (Arr. Anab. 7.23.3–4). The base unit was a rank or file of eight or sixteen called a lochos or dekas. It 42 For a good summary of the senior commanders of each regiment in the phalanx and how they changed commands, see Heckel’s chapter in this volume. See also Heckel (2016) 268–70. 43 On the Pages, Royal hypaspists, and bodyguards, see Heckel (2016) 245–59 and Heckel’s chapter in this volume. 44 See Wrightson (2010) for the command structure of the phalanx according to Asclepiodotus. See also Wrightson (2024) for the command structure in the Seleucid phalanx compared with modern infantry units. 45 On the importance of the trumpet for unit cohesion, see Anders (2023). 46 Curtius states that the reinforcements arrived at Sittacene, Diodorus (65.1) on the march to Susa and Arrian (Anab. 3.16.10–11) at Susa. Bosworth (1980, 319–20) concludes that the Vulgate sources are correct and that the reinforcements arrived on the march to Susa probably at Sittacene. See Heckel (2016) 269–70. 47 See Wrightson (2015a).

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry

149

is not clear for Philip’s army, but Alexander’s base functional unit had sixteen men. In this unit, as far as we can tell, there were four soldiers on extra pay. There were two ten-stater men, who earned more than the regular soldier, the dimoirites,48 who received double pay, and the commander of the unit,  the dekadarch in Arrian’s Anabasis and the lochagos in the tactical manuals.49 The ten-stater men were experienced soldiers on higher pay. The dimoirites would perhaps be the second-in-command after the senior rank, the lochagos or dekadarch. Since we lack details on the officer structure of the phalanx of Alexander beyond this description of the base file, most scholars use the command structure provided in the tactical manuals as a supplement. Yet the same scholars criticize the manuals as being too mathematically perfect. What is most problematic is that Alexander’s army clearly had regiments of 1,500, yet in the manuals phalanx regiments are 2,000, so there are clearly differences. Historians that do simply use the manuals’ command structure for Alexander’s army, completely misunderstand the historical comparanda requiring efficient command at the base tactical unit level only. Originally, the principal tactical unit was of 128, or eight ranks of sixteen commanded by a hekatontarchos.50 Subsequently, to adapt to the square manipular units of Roman armies, or simply for better organization, Hellenistic phalanxes changed to have the base tactical unit as the syntagma of 256 men fighting in a square formation of sixteen ranks by sixteen rows.51 Doubling units from the lochos would provide a unit of thirty-two, two lochoi together. Four units of sixteen would then be sixty-four and then further doubling to 128, which was the position in the manuals where the signalers stood to represent the base tactical unit in an earlier phalanx as described in the manuals (Asclepiodotus 2.8). Asclepiodotus states this used to happen at this level but changed to the level of 256, and this older version is likely correct for Philip and Alexander.52 In the phalanx the next level would be the pentakosiarchia of 512, 48 Arrian (Anab. 6.9.3; 6.10.1–2) refers to a certain Abreas who died defending Alexander at the Malli as a dimoirites. This accounts for two of only eight instances of this term in the entire TLG, outside of the tactical manuals. 49 Arrian in the Anabasis calls it a dekas. In the tactical manuals it is a lochos. On Arrian’s use of lochagos in the Anabasis see in particular the appendix to Wrightson (2010). Though I now do not agree entirely with these arguments the evidence remains the same. 50 This unit usually deployed in two squares of eight ranks by eight, Wrightson (2010). 51 On this change, see in particular Sekunda (2006). 52 Asclepiodotus 2.9. See Wrightson (2015a) 83–85. See also Sekunda (1994) 29–31; Sekunda (2006). On the taxiarch as commander of 128, the equivalent of hekatontarch, see Wrightson (2010).

150

Wrightson

or two syntagmata (companies). The Macedonian units then stopped at three units of 512 (thirty-two by sixteen ranks), giving 1,536 soldiers. Yet there is absolutely no comparison in practice, or evidence from ancient sources, for there to be commanders of units of 512 in Alexander’s phalanx.53 In the phalanx of Alexander, 1,536 was the total of each phalanx regiment commanded by an eponymous officer, whose name the ancient sources use to refer to their unit. Alexander’s phalanx units came from separate regions of Macedon and were organized according to ethnicity. It is clear from the names of the commanders of these units that the officers were of the same ethnicity as their troops, as discussed below.54 In Alexander’s invasion army there were six regiments and a seventh was added as reinforcements at Susa. Thus, the Macedonian phalanx under Philip and Alexander as constructed from Arrian’s Anabasis and the Hellenistic manuals: Ten-stater man—above the regular soldier, two per dekas/lochos. Dimoirites—squad of eight. Dekadarch or lochagos—dekas or lochos of sixteen. Taxiarch—taxis of thirty-two men, two lochoi of sixteen, four squads of eight. Hekatontarchos—hekatontarchia of 128 men, four taxeis, eight lochoi, a 8 × 16 rank formation ordered in two squares of 8 × 8.55 [Hellenistic phalanxes only: Syntagmatarch—syntagma of 256 men, eight taxeis, sixteen lochoi, a 16 × 16 rank formation.] Regiment (eponymous) commander of 1,536 men, three pentakosiarchia, six syntagmata, forty-eight taxeis, ninety-six lochoi, a 96 × 16 rank formation.

53 Wrightson (2010, 77 n. 22) argued for an Alexandrian pentakosiarch or taxiarch commanding units of 512 despite no evidence in the Alexander historians for the existence of such an officer. There was no such command level in the phalanx and instead those commanders fought in the elite regiment of hypaspists. Sekunda demonstrates that the terms pentakosiarch and chiliarch (commander of 1,000) drop out of the Ptolemaic army in the second century, Sekunda (2006) 20. 54 This naming style is similar to that used in the early modern period in Europe where army regiments (of around 1,000 men) took the name of their regimental commander. 55 See Sekunda (2006). See also Wrightson (2015a) 82–85.

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry

151

The only important officers in the army and the only ones about whom we know anything are the regimental commanders. These officers were always members of aristocratic families who had graduated through the system of pages. The pages system functioned as the training school for Macedonian officers. Many of the pages went through the ranks to become senior cavalry commanders or army commanders, or after Alexander’s conquests provincial commanders.56 After Alexander’s death, a number of these commanders became significant figures in the chaotic wars of the Successors, leading armies in their own right and often controlling whole territories.57 The other lower officers in the phalanx likely began service as regular soldiers who earned promotion through successful service. 2.6 Recruitment The sources refer to each regiment by the name of its commanding officer. We can determine from the names of these officers the regions of Macedon that raised these regiments. It is likely that each regiment comprised soldiers from that region to provide a form of regional identity that fostered closer connection among the soldiers and their officers. In effect, each phalanx regiment represented the conscription of soldiers for the national army from that region. The role of the named officers, who were all landowning aristocrats, may function in a similar way to medieval feudal landowners bringing their own local tenants to war. Heckel demonstrates that most of the regiments that accompanied Alexander were from Upper Macedon.58 Certainly, both Philip and Alexander recruited regiments from all over their kingdom. Those from Upper Macedon accompanied Alexander on campaign perhaps to remove soldiers from that area and thus leaving Alexander’s regent in Macedon, Antipater, with a more reliable army from Lower Macedon. As Heckel summarizes, “Perhaps, they accompanied the king for the same reason that their family members served at Court, as a security measure.”59 Upper Macedon prior to Philip was controlled by semi-independent rulers, some even kings, and thus their loyalty to the throne was questionable.

56 See Heckel (2016) 256–59. 57 For detailed analysis of each commander see Heckel (2016, 2021). See also Berve (1925–1926). 58 Heckel (2016) 264–70. See also Heckel in this volume. 59 Heckel (2016) 265.

152

Wrightson

The commanders leading the seven regiments under Alexander were as follows:60 Regiment 1 (asthetairoi):61 Orestis and Lyncestis Perdiccas son of Orontes from Orestis62 Alcetas son of Orontes from Orestis (brother of Perdiccas)63—takes over when Perdiccas is promoted Regiment 2 (asthetairoi): Elimeia Coenus son of Polemocrates from Elimeia64 Peithon son of Agenor65—takes over when Coenus is promoted Regiment 3: Tymphaia Amyntas son of Andromenes from Tymphaia66 Simmias son of Andromenes from Tymphaia67—commander only at Gaugamela while Amyntas was absent in Macedonia raising rein­forcements Attalus son of Andromenes from Tymphaia68—takes over after Amyntas’ death Regiment 4: Tymphaia Philip son of Balacrus (or of Amyntas) from Tymphaia69—commander at the Granicus Ptolemaios son of Seleucus from Tymphaia70—commander at Issus where he dies Polypherchon son of Simmias from Tymphaia71 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71

The ranking of the regiments is based on the order of importance as listed at the Granicus, Arr. Anab. 1.14.2. See also Heckel’s chapter in this volume for a table showing the commanders of the various regiments. A discussion of the asthetairoi follows below. See Heckel (2016) 153–84, (2021) 364–70, No. 871. See Heckel (2016) 184–88, (2021) 34–36, No. 61. See Heckel (2016) 67–74, (2021) 252–55, No. 610. See Heckel (2021) 363–64, No. 868. See Heckel (2016) 189–91, (2021) 43, No. 79. See Heckel (2016) 191–92. See Heckel (2016) 192–98, (2021) 118–20, No. 265. See Heckel (2021) 384–85, No. 960. See Heckel (2021) 427, No. 1007. See Heckel (2016) 200–16, (2021) 413–19, No. 983.

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry

153

Regiment 5: Orestis (and possibly Lyncestis)72 Craterus son of Alexander from Orestis73 Gorgias (family and origin unknown)74—takes over when Craterus is promoted Regiment 6: Epirus Meleager son of Neoptolemus, probably from Epirus or Lyncestis75 Regiment 7: Upper Macedon (probably) Cleitus the White (family and origin unknown)76 2.7 Asthetairoi The asthetairoi appear only six times in Arrian’s Anabasis.77 No other source mentions them. Heckel has argued convincingly that the two phalanx regiments termed asthetairoi were those that fought closest to the king.78 This explains the hetairoi designation of their name. Perdiccas and Coenus commanded those two regiments and the name of the commander was the usual way to refer to them. Thus, the commander’s name usually rendered use of the term asthetairoi unnecessary, since everyone would know that was their unit. These two regiments accompany Alexander on a rapid assault into Illyria alongside the elite hypaspists and his Agrianian javelin men (Arr. Anab. 1.6.9–11). As Heckel has shown, these two units were from Upper Macedonia, a region that was hilly and very similar topographically to Illyria.79 The 72 This mirrors Perdiccas’ unit. Both regions receive half a regiment to prevent each of these two areas from Upper Macedon gaining influence as a unified national regiment, see Heckel (2009) 107, (2016) 101, n. 3. Lyncestis was the most worrisome area for both Philip and Alexander. Both kings had executed aristocrats from the region for aiming at the kingship of Macedon or supporting those who did, see Heckel (2016) 19–32. Thus, Perdiccas’ regiment is one of the two asthetairoi so that they fight close to the king where he can keep an eye on them. 73 See Heckel (2016) 122–52, (2021) 258–64, No. 622. 74 See Heckel (2021) 203, No. 481. 75 See Heckel (2016) 101–106, (2021) 297–99, No. 695. 76 See Heckel (2021) 246–48, No. 596. He came with a seventh regiment as a part of the reinforcements at Susa. 77 Arr. Anab. 2.23.2; 4.23.1; 5.22.6; 6.6.1; 6.21.3; 7.11.3. For detailed discussion of the term, see Bosworth (1973). 78 Heckel and Jones (2006) 31–32; especially Heckel (2009), (2016) 266–68; Anson (2010a). See also Heckel in this volume. 79 Heckel (2016) 266–68.

154

Wrightson

asthetairoi perhaps were the most trusted in difficult situations because the soldiers came from rough country. The units of Perdiccas and Coenus were the only phalanx regiments mentioned as first into the breaches of city walls behind the elite hypaspists. That they attacked cities suggests they were very comfortable in the use of a hoplite shield and spear rather than just the sarissa.80 Alexander need not equip his whole phalanx with sarissas and hoplite panoply if he could rely on two of his main regiments whenever hoplite equipment was preferable. To equip all his soldiers in both ways, with a sarissa and two-foot diameter shield as well as an eight-foot spear and hoplite shield, would have required an enormous logistical train. The two asthetairoi regiments remained closest to the king in battle and were the first to assault a fortified position. These special battle roles raised these two regiments to prominence. When Alexander threatened his recalcitrant troops that he would create a Persian phalanx to replace them he lists Persian asthetairoi alongside pezhetairoi and hypaspists.81 Clearly, their roles were so necessary for the basic functioning of the army in battle that Alexander could not do without them. The fact that similar units do not appear in the armies of Alexander’s successors proves more the decline of organization of those later armies than it does the lack of need for asthetairoi. No army in the Greek or Hellenistic Worlds was as sophisticated and well-ordered as Alexander’s and he definitely saw the need for asthetairoi. Once the various Successors fought amongst themselves, they never had the opportunity to create an established and permanent army. The hastily gathered armies they used relied on the more basic organization of a Macedonian battle line: light cavalry at each wing’s extremity, heavy cavalry on either side of the central sarissa phalanx supported by linking light and missile infantry. Some armies also utilized the equivalent of hypaspists to link the phalanx to the more mobile cavalry, but none ever again contained all the different units Alexander commanded.

80 Anson (2010a) argues that they had stars on their shields. See Heckel (2016) 268. 81 Arr. Anab. 7.11.3. In the mutiny at Opis Alexander is threatening to replace each unit of the army in turn with Persians and that they will have the same names: “An agema called Persian, and Persian pezhetairoi, and asthetairoi also, and a Persian unit of silver shields …” See Brice in this volume.

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry

3

155

Elite Troops

3.1 Pezhetairoi under Philip and Hypaspists under Alexander Now that we have discussed the basic sarissa phalanx under Philip and Alexander we can turn to elite troops. Our sources suggest that Philip did command an elite unit. This was likely the soldiers whom Philip trained on his private lands during the last few years of his brother’s reign. Most likely fighting as hoplites for increased flexibility, defense, and movement even after the implementation of the sarissa, these soldiers Philip tasked with all the most difficult military assignments. We usually term this heavy infantry unit of Philip the pezhetairoi.82 The name means foot companions. This suggests that these soldiers fought closest to the king in battle. The Royal cavalry unit was known as the Companion Cavalry, so the pezhetairoi mimicked that terminology among the infantry. In view of their closeness to the king this unit relates to the often-used term bodyguards.83 Under Philip and Alexander, this term probably means bodyguards only in battle, since the size of the unit would prevent its use as personal bodyguards to the king. Since the Macedonian king usually led the cavalry, though it is not clear Philip II did, the king’s close personal bodyguards (seven under Alexander) likely fought on horseback alongside their ruler. However, prior to Philip expanding the size of the pezhetairoi it is likely that Macedonian kings employed a small unit of personal infantry bodyguards.84 As Anson states, “every tribal chief had his own personal armed retinue, troops who attended the monarch on a permanent basis.”85 This tradition of the northern Greek tribes is similar to that of Germanic tribes throughout the ancient and early medieval worlds. That the early Macedonian kings would be the only aristocrats in the region and in history not to do so seems absurd even if there is little evidence before Philip. 82

See Erskine (1989) 385 n. 1 for a short bibliography of past studies on the subject and for a detailed analysis of the ancient sources concerning pezhetairoi. 83 A fragmentary passage calls them bodyguards: Etymologicum Magnum 699.50–51. 84 See in particular Anson (2010b) 61–62. I intend to examine this further elsewhere. Though he does not go as far as this, Juhel’s argument (2017a) for the Macedonian state equipping hoplites with standard equipment after Alexander I adds to this conclusion of the pezhetairoi as hoplite bodyguards of the king. 85 Anson (2010b) 61–62. Viking and Anglo-Saxon chieftains, kings and even lower nobles led small units of well-armed and well-trained professional bodyguards of heavy infantry often termed Housecarls. The personal retinues of medieval lords similarly consisted of their best knights fighting around their lord’s person in battle either on foot or on horseback as the situation demanded.

156

Wrightson

Philip’s pezhetairoi were the best troops in his army and carried out all the most difficult tasks.86 In Alexander’s army the elite troops were renamed the hypaspists, a term derived from their carrying the aspis or large hoplite shield.87 Alexander’s hypaspists were selected from the rest of the sarissa phalanx infantry as the best troops.88 This unit, then, was not necessarily veteran but elite in ability. They led the army in sieges or naval combat,89 and linked the phalanx to the cavalry on the right flank in battle. The term hypaspist in Greek often referred to a commander’s elite unit on their right flank in battle.90 The hypaspists also accompanied Alexander in smaller campaigns over difficult terrain and undertook any forced marches or rapid attacks required.91 Alexander also used a unit of hypaspists called the Royal hypaspists or Agema. 1,000 strong, these soldiers were the best of the best and fought closest to the king in battle. They were the young aristocrats who had graduated from the Pages but not yet earned an independent military command in the army.92 They may also have acted as hamippoi, infantry that ran alongside cavalry into battle to add expertise on foot in any melee that ensued among the horsemen.93 They usually fought with hoplite shield and spear.94 In Illyria, they rode ahead on horses borrowed from the cavalry and dismounted to fight on foot alongside the Companion Cavalry (Arr. Anab. 1.5.12–1.6.5–8).95 To run alongside cavalry and still have the strength to fight well in hand-to-hand combat these troops were extremely fit and reliable. This was arguably the greatest of any elite unit in ancient warfare, just like hamippoi units in other cultures. The hypaspists were the only named unit to remain loyal to Alexander at the mutiny at Opis (Arr. Anab. 7.8.3), suggesting their strong personal connection to the king even outside of the agema unit. 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95

The scholiast to Demosthenes references Theopompus as evidence for the elite nature of Philip’s pezhetairoi. Scholia in Demosthenes 2.17 = Theopompus FGrH. 115 F 348. On the hypaspists and their armament, training and function see in particular Milns (1967, 1971); Ellis (1975); Anson (1981, 1985); Foulon (1996a, 1996b); Sekunda (2010); Heckel (2005, 2012, 2013, 2016) 270–74. See Tarn (1948) 140. Berve (1925–1926) 1.125. The best example is leading the assault into the breach at the siege of Tyre (Arr. Anab. 2.23.2). See chapters by Roisman and Baynham in this volume. Anson (1985) 247. Bosworth (1989) 259–260. A good example is Alexander’s attack on the Susian Gates: Polyaenus 4.3.27. On the Pages, Royal hypaspists and bodyguards see Heckel (2016) 243–259. On Royal hypaspists as hamippoi see Heckel (2012). Peucestas at the siege of the Malli was a Royal hypaspist who used his hoplite shield to cover Alexander’s wounded body against a shower of missiles and gained much fame as a result, Arr. Anab. 6.10.2; Diod. Sic. 17.99.4; Curt. 9.5.14–7.1. See Heckel (2012) 19 and n. 18.

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry

157

3.2 Armament and Battle Roles Scholars used to consider hypaspists as lighter infantry than the phalanx since they wore linen body armor and could move so quickly alongside cavalry.96 Yet battlefield roles not their armor determine whether a unit is heavy or light.97 If a unit’s expertise lies in close-quarter combat in the melee it is a heavy unit even if it uses minimal armor. Armor generally improves the fighting ability in close quarters and so most heavy infantry units in the ancient and medieval worlds did wear strong body armor. But it is not a requirement. The rear or middle ranks of the sarissa phalanx may not have used much armor since they rarely approached the dangerous front ranks of a melee. Yet the phalanx as a whole is heavy infantry because of the size of the weapon. Alexander’s hypaspists and Philip’s pezhetairoi did wear armor; however, the total weight of their armor and weapons together was less than that of a sarissa phalangite. This made them more maneuverable in battle and on military expeditions and sieges, but their use of a large shield, the aspis or the hoplite hoplon, alongside a spear provided them with enough firepower to excel in any melee. Furthermore, the linen body armor, the linothorax, actually provided equal if not greater protection than the heavier bronze breastplate. Thus, these troops were far from lightly armored and their role as heavy infantry was well-earned. Hypaspists did not necessarily fight in a rigid phalanx formation though armed as hoplites. Keeping up with the cavalry, they could not have marched slowly as a phalanx. Fighting on rough terrain they could not fight as a phalanx. In Thrace at the Shipka pass the hypaspists lay down under their large shields so that the Thracian wagons would bounce over them (Arr. Anab. 1.1.9).98 The larger shield gave each soldier individual protection, but they could form a phalanx along the lines of Greek hoplites if required tactically. Their expertise with the shield and spear also aided in siege warfare or on-board ships where the longer sarissa was too unwieldy to be of any use whatever. Recruited from the phalanx regiments, the elite infantry were equally adept at using a sarissa in battle. However, the only example of this is at the Hydaspes (Diod. Sic. 17.88.2). The elite troops fought on the right wing of the infantry formation, thus linking with light infantry or cavalry and shielding the vulnerable right flank of the regular sarissa phalanx. They also were the troops sent first over the walls in a siege or to provide heavy infantry support in a rapid advance. The 96 See Tarn (1948) for the fullest argument as to why the hypaspists were not heavy infantry. 97 Wrightson (2019) 15–17. 98 In this passage they are even described as hoplites specifically.

158

Wrightson

various military maneuvers of Alexander demonstrate well the multiple uses of the elite heavy infantry unit. Such examples do not survive in the sources of Philip’s reign, but we can be almost certain that Alexander simply adopted the well-tried practice of his father’s army. 3.3 Training, Command Structure, and Recruitment The best soldiers in the phalanx were selected to join the elite regiments of the pezhetairoi under Philip and the hypaspists under Alexander. We have no evidence for these elite troops receiving any extra training. Their prior experience in the phalanx merely provided the foundation for the extra experience they gained on the job by accomplishing all the most difficult tasks the army required. Unlike the phalanx regiments, there was no national or regional organization in the elite units and each soldier served wherever needed. Under Alexander at the start of his campaign there seems to have been only one commander of the hypaspists, the archi-hypaspist.99 This senior hypaspist officer was above the individual commander of the Royal Agema of hypaspists, whose name also appears regularly in the Alexander historians, thus demonstrating his importance. In total, it seems that 3,000 soldiers served in the hypaspist corps. This number probably carried over from Philip’s army. The interesting account by Curtius of athletic games resulting in military promotions probably refers to the hypaspist regiments. I follow Heckel’s argument that one name is missing from Curtius’ list of eight and that these nine new officers took newly created ranks in the now divided hypaspist regiment.100 Three commanders or chiliarchs led one thousand soldiers each, with six pentakosiarchs commanding five hundred men each. Presumably, the hypaspists also had smaller units of eight or sixteen to match the phalanx, with appropriate junior officers also serving in the hierarchy. Unfortunately, there is absolutely no evidence for the command structure of the elite regiments either under Philip or Alexander, or any of the later Hellenistic armies, and so we must leave it as pure conjecture as comparative to the phalanx.

99 See Heckel’s chapter in this volume. 100 The lack of patronymics suggests the low level of aristocratic importance for all these officers who won prizes at the contest. Heckel (2021, 115) states that Atarrhias, son of Deinomenes, is “the only commander of ‘regular hypaspists’ (excluding the archihypaspistes Nicanor) whose patronymic is attested.” Heckel and Jones (2006) 43–44. See also Heckel (2001) 281 n. 22. See in particular Heckel (2016): 308–14 on Antigenes.

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry

159

3.4 Argyraspids At the end of his campaign in Asia Alexander released many of his older hypaspists from service.101 These were soldiers over 60, who were also likely veterans of Philip’s campaigns, and perhaps even had served as Philip’s original pezhetairoi.102 Alexander honored these veteran soldiers by clothing them in new armor and silver shields. This then gave them their new name, silver shields or Argyraspids. Alexander died before this disbanded unit returned to Macedon and under Alexander’s successors the Argyraspids became a fierce and indomitable fighting force on the battlefield alongside hypaspists.103 Such was their prowess that enemy soldiers fled rather than fight and Antigonus so feared their veteran insubordination that he had them distributed and eliminated as a garrison force in Sogdiana. 4

Conclusion

The Macedonian infantry of Philip and Alexander were extremely well-trained units of heavy infantry. The sarissa phalanx instituted by Philp formed the mainstay of Macedonian style armies for almost three hundred years. The phalanx armed with the sarissa, when trained properly, could hold the center of a battle line against all attacks and move slowly forwards to pressure the enemy when attacked on the flanks by the cavalry. The soldiers of the phalanx also trained in the use of the traditional hoplite panoply of shield and spear, which they used in sieges or naval combat. The commanders selected the best of the soldiers from the phalanx to fill out the ranks of the elite heavy infantry regiment. Called the pezhetairoi, or foot companions, under Philip and the hypaspists under Alexander, this unit fought as the closest heavy infantry to the king in battle and led the army in assaulting sieges or difficult positions. As the fittest and best soldiers in the army this unit also led forced marches into hostile territory or attacked enemy positions when the speed of march required was too great for the regular phalanx to maintain. Within the hypaspists was the Royal regiment that fought alongside the King’s Companion Cavalry as mobile hamippoi, heavy infantry that ran alongside cavalry to assist in hand-to-hand combat in battle. This unit really was the best of the best and carried out all of the most difficult tasks in the Macedonian 101 See Heckel’s chapter in this volume. 102 Arr. Anab. 7.11.3. See Lock (1977); Anson (1981); Foulon (1996b). 103 On their commander and thus their movements and actions, see in particular Heckel (2016) 308–14.

160

Wrightson

army. It was the unit of honor for the soldiers since it provided opportunities to stand out before the eyes of the king, a sure-fire way to achieve promotion and rewards. Added to these units, the asthetairoi was the name given to some of the sarissa phalanx regiments possibly to designate their recruitment or battlefield positions close to the king. Finally, the Argyraspids at the end of Alexander’s reign became an elite unit of older soldiers previously discharged from the hypaspist regiments, who fought with great distinction and proved unbeatable in the early battles of Alexander’s successors. Works Cited Aldrete, G., Bartell, S. M., and Aldrete, A. (2013) Reconstructing Ancient Linen Body Armor: Unraveling the Linothorax Mystery. Baltimore, MD. Anders, A. O. (2023) “Roman Standards and Trumpets as Implements of Cohesion in Battle,” in Hall, Rawling, and Lee (2023) 106–25. Andronikos, M. (1970) “Sarissa.” BCH 94: 91–107. Anson, E. M. (1981) “Alexander’s Hypaspists and the Argyraspids.” Historia 30: 117–20. Anson, E. M. (1985) “The Hypaspists: Macedonia’s Professional Citizen-Soldiers.” Historia 34: 246–48. Anson, E. M. (2010a) “The Asthetairoi: Macedonia’s Hoplites,” in Carney and Ogden (2010) 81–90. Anson, E. M. (2010b) “The Introduction of the ‘Sarisa’ in Macedonian Warfare.” AncSoc 40: 51–68. Anson, E. M. (2020) Philip II, The Father of Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues. London. Armstrong, J., Pomeroy, A. J., and Rosenbloom, D. (eds) (2024) Money, Warfare and Power in the Ancient World: Studies in Honour of Matthew Freeman Trundle. London. Berve, H. (1925–1926) Das Alexanderreich auf prosopographischer Grundlage, 2 vols. Munich. Best, J. G. P. (1969) Thracian Peltasts and their Influence on Greek Warfare. Groningen. Biagi, P. and Antonetti, C. (eds) (2017) With Alexander in India and Central Asia Moving East and Back to West. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1973) “ΑΣΘΕΤΑΙΡΟΙ.” CQ 23: 245–53. Bosworth, A. B. (1980) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander, Vol. 1. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1989) Conquest and Empire: The Reign of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Campbell, B. and Tritle, L. A. (eds) (2013) The Oxford Handbook of Warfare in the Classical World. Oxford.

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry

161

Carney, E. D. and Ogden, D. (eds) (2010) Philip II and Alexander the Great: Father and Son, Lives and Afterlives. Oxford. Connolly, P. (2000) “Experiments with the Sarissa—the Macedonian Pike and Cavalry Lance—a Functional View.” JRMES 11: 103–12. Coskun, A. and Scolnic, B. E. (forthcoming) The Seleukids at War: Recruitment, Orga­ nization, and Battles. Seleukid Perspectives 2. Stuttgart. Dell, H. D. and Borza, E. N. (eds) (1981) Ancient Macedonian Studies in Honor of Charles F. Edson. Thessaloniki. Devine, A. M. (1996) “The Short Sarissa Again.” AncW 27: 52–53. Ellis, J. R. (1975) “Alexander’s Hypaspists Again.” Historia 24: 617–18. Erskine, A. (1989) “The pezetairoi of Philip II and Alexander III.” Historia 38: 385–94. Feil, F. (2024) “‘Not a few hoplites’: The Evolution of Illyrian Infantry, 5th to 3rd century BC,” in Kreiner and Wrightson (2024) 40–65. Foulon, E. (1996a) “La garde a pied, corps d’elite de la phalange hellenistique.” BAGB 1: 17–31. Foulon, E. (1996b) “Hypaspistes, peltastes, chrysaspides, argyraspides, chalcaspides.” REA 98: 53–63. Gersbach, J. (2022) The War Cry in the Graeco-Roman World. New York. Greenwalt, W. (2007) “The Development of a Middle Class in Macedonia.” Ancient Macedonia 7: 89–90. Greenwalt, W. (2015) “Infantry and the Evolution of Argead Macedonia,” in Howe et al. (2015) 41–46. Greenwalt, W. (2017) “Alexander II of Macedon,” in Howe et al. (2017) 80–91. Griffith, G. T. (1981) “Peltasts and the Origen of the Macedonian Phalanx,” in Dell and Borza (1981) 161–79. Hall, J. R., Rawling, L., and Lee, G. (eds) (2023) Unit Cohesion and Warfare in the Ancient World. New York. Heckel, W. (2001) Quintus Curtius Rufus: The History of Alexander. London. Heckel, W. (2005) “Synaspismos, Sarissas, and Wagons.” AClass 48: 189–94. Heckel, W. (2009) “The Asthetairoi: A Closer Look,” in Wheatley, and Hannah (2009) 99–117. Heckel, W. (2012) “The Royal Hypaspists in Battle: Macedonian hamippoi.” AHB 26: 15–20. Heckel, W. (2013) “The Three Thousand: Alexander’s Infantry Guard,” in Campbell and Tritle (2013) 162–78. Heckel, W. (2016) Alexander’s Marshals: A Study of the Makedonian Aristocracy and the Politics of Military Leadership. London. Heckel, W. (2021) Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander and his Successors: From Chaironeia to Ipsos (338–301 BC). Barnsley, UK.

162

Wrightson

Heckel, W. and Jones, R. (2006) Macedonian Warrior: Alexander’s Elite Infantryman. Oxford. Holt, F. (2016) The Treasures of Alexander the Great: How One Man’s Wealth Shaped the World. Oxford. Howe, T., Garvin, E., and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2015) Greece, Macedon and Persia: Studies in the Social, Political and Military Consequences of Conquest Societies in Honour of Waldemar Heckel. Oxford. Howe, T., Müller, S., and Stoneman, R. (eds) (2017) Ancient Historiography on War and Empire. Oxford. Juhel, P. (2017a) Armes, Armement et Contexte Funéraire dans la Macédoine Hellénistique: Avec un appendice sur les trouvailles d’armes relatives à l’archaïsme et aux débuts de l’époque classique en Macédoine & sur ses confins. Gdansk. Juhel, P. (2017b) Autour de l’Infanterie d’Élite Macédonienne à l’Époque du Royaume Antigonide: cinq études militaires entre histoire, philologie et archéologie. Oxford. King, C. (2018) Ancient Macedonia. London. Kreiner, J. and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2024) Topics in Ancient Warfare: International Ancient Warfare Conference Proceedings, Vol. 2. Newcastle upon Tyne. Lee, G., Whittaker, H., and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2015) Ancient Warfare: Introducing Current Research. IAWC vol. 1. Newcastle upon Tyne. Lendon, J. E. (2005) Soldiers and Ghosts: A History of Battle in Classical Antiquity. New Haven, CT. Lock, R. (1977) “The Origins of the Argyraspids.” Historia 26: 373–78. Markle, M. M. (1977) “The Macedonian Sarissa, Spear and Related Armor.” AJA 81: 323–29. Markle, M. M. (1978) “Use of the Sarissa by Philip and Alexander of Macedon.” AJA 82: 483–97. Matthew, C. A. (2015) An Invincible Beast: Understanding the Hellenistic Pike Phalanx in Action, Barnsley, UK. Matthew, C. A. (2024) “The Wage Cost of Alexander’s Pike-Phalanx,” in Armstrong et al. (2024) 127–44. Milns, R. D. (1967) “Philip II and the Hypaspists.” Historia 16: 509–12. Milns, R. D. (1971) “The Hypaspists of Alexander III—Some Problems.” Historia 20: 186–95. Olbrycht, M. J. (2017) “Parthia, Bactria and India: The Iranian Policies of Alexander of Macedonia (330–323),” in Biagi and Antonetti (2017) 194–209. Reames, J., and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2025) Macedon and its influences: Narratives of Politics and War in Honor of Edward M. Anson. Colloquia Antiqua 44. Leuven. Roisman, J. and Worthington, I. (eds) (2010) A Companion to Ancient Macedonia. Oxford. Sekunda, N. (1994) The Seleucid Army. Stockport.

The Macedonian Heavy Infantry

163

Sekunda, N. (2001) “The Sarissa.” Acta Universitatis Lodziensis: Folia archaeologica 23: 13–41. Sekunda, N. (2006) Hellenistic Infantry Reform in the 160’s BC. Gdansk. Sekunda, N. (2010) “The Macedonian Army,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 446–71. Sekunda, N. (2014) “The Chronology of the Iphicratean Peltast Reform,” in Sekunda and Burliga (2014) 126–44. Sekunda, N. and Burliga, B. (eds) (2014) Iphicrates, Peltasts and Lechaeum. Gdansk. Tarn, W. W. (1948) Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Wheatley, P. and Hannah, R. (eds) (2009) Alexander and His Successors: Essays from the Antipodes. Claremont, CA. Wilkes, J. (1992) The Illyrians. Cambridge, MA. Wrightson, G. (2010) “The Nature of Command in the Macedonian Sarissa Phalanx.” AHB 24: 71–92. Wrightson, G. (2015a) “To Use or Not to Use: The Practical and Historical Reliability of Asclepiodotus’ ‘Philosophical’ Tactical Manual,” in Lee et al. (2015) 65–93. Wrightson, G. (2015b) “Macedonian Armies and the Perfection of Combined Arms,” in Howe et al. (2015) 59–68. Wrightson, G. (2019) Combined Arms Warfare in Ancient Greece: From Homer to Alexander the Great and His Successors. London. Wrightson, G. (2022) The Battles of Antiochus the Great: The Failure of Combined Arms at Magnesia. Barnsley, UK. Wrightson, G. (2024) “Command Hierarchy in the Seleucid Phalanx,” in Coskun and Scolnic (2024) The Seleukids at War: Recruitment, Organization, and Battles. Seleukid Perspectives 2. Stuttgart. Wrightson, G. (2025) “Alexander I’s Bodyguards: The Origins of the Macedonian Sarissa Phalanx,” in Reames and Wrightson (2025) 213-227. Wrightson, G. (forthcoming) “Balance in the Phalanx Dance: The Importance of Dancing as Training for Melee Combat,” in Wrightson and Jones (forthcoming). Wrightson, G., and Jones Jr., J. (eds) (forthcoming) War and Peace: The Many Faces of War VIII, Annapolis, MD.

Chapter 7

Macedonian and Thessalian Cavalry Carolyn Willekes 1

Introduction

Over the course of their careers, Philip II and Alexander III won a series of victories that had far reaching effects not just on Macedonia, but on the broader Mediterranean and Near Eastern world. Both men were astute tacticians and skilled commanders, excelling in the use of combined arms. Central to their victories, however, were the Macedonian and Thessalian cavalry. Philip used these two cavalry forces to change the scope of pitched battle, proving the effectiveness of cavalry deployed directly against infantry. Alexander built on these innovations by using the Macedonian and Thessalian cavalry as the hammer and anvil of his battle line, highlighting the ability of cavalry to fight offensively and defensively, while also emphasizing the decisive role they could play in terms of influencing the course of a battle. Key to this success were the origins and nature of these two cavalry forces. This chapter will explore the different factors that shaped the skill and effectiveness of these horsemen by considering the significance of the horse within Macedonian and Thessalian traditions, and how this translated to the battlefield. 2

Macedonian Cavalry

When Philip II took control of Macedon, he instituted several key reforms including important changes to the army. This, of course, resulted in the introduction of the sarissa phalanx, the professionalization of the troops, and a clear shift towards the use of combined arms tactics. Although the speech Alexander delivered at Opis in 324 BCE suggests that prior to Philip’s reign, the Macedonians were continually vulnerable to attack and unable to defend their land and resources from neighboring territories, the Macedonians were not entirely without military resources (Arr. Anab. 7.9.1–5).1 The Macedonians did have a military presence, but it was found primarily on horseback as 1 All dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated.

© Carolyn Willekes, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_009

Macedonian and Thessalian Cavalry

165

this was a land of horsemen. Herodotus and Thucydides both make reference to Macedonian forces in the context of cavalry rather than infantry, and Xenophon remarks on the presence of Macedonian cavalry in the forces of Teleutias at Olynthus.2 When Sitalces the Thracian invaded Macedonian in 429/8, Thucydides notes that The Macedonians never even thought of meeting him with infantry; but the Thracian host was, as opportunity offered, attacked by handfuls of their horse, which had been reinforced from their allies in the interior. Armed with breastplates, and excellent horsemen, wherever these charged they overthrew all before them. (Thuc. 2.100.5) In 424 and 423, Perdiccas II had to rely on a hired Spartan army led by Brasidas (Thuc. 4.79.2–4.83 and 4.124–128). Thucydides does mention hoplites in Perdiccas’ forces, but he describes them as “Hellenes dwelling in his country” (Thuc. 4.124.1), suggesting that they were non-Macedonian Greeks residing in Macedonia.3 Thus, prior to Philip’s reforms, the majority of Macedonia’s military strength was found on horseback, indeed it was custom for the king himself to fight on horseback accompanied by his Companion Cavalry.4 The prominence of the cavalry in Macedonian military history is largely the result of topography and social structure. A primary reason given for the lack of a strong native hoplite presence in Macedonia is the absence of a polis system. The hoplite has traditionally been linked to social shifts that emerged during the Archaic period, something closely tied to the emergence of poleis and, thus urban culture across Greece.5 Macedonia, however, remained largely rural and urban centers of any sort were few and far between.6 The rural nature of the region created an economy based on transhumant pastoralism rather than sedentary farming, with much of the land belonging to members of the elite. The resulting social structure had at its roots a dependent population of tenants and pastoralists which, as we shall see, benefitted the production of

2 Xen. Hell. 5.2.40. Greenwalt (2015, 41) suggests that prior to the reign of Archelaos I (ca. 413–399) the Argead kings had no form of organized infantry at their disposal. 3 Anson (2010) 53. For references to Macedonian cavalry in Herodotus see 7.185, 9.31.5, and 9.44.1. In Thucydides see 1.61.1, 1.62.4, 1.63.2, and 4.124.1. 4 Wrightson (2010) 83–84. For discussions on logistical aspects of the Macedonian cavalry see Brunt (1963), Griffith (1963), Hammond (1998), and Moreno Hernandez (2004). 5 For an overview of the hoplite and hoplite warfare, see Sears (2019) 31–59. 6 Anson (2020) 18–19.

166

Willekes

grazing animals.7 Macedonia was fortunate in its sizeable areas of grassy lowlands, making it suitable for the practice of hippotrophia, and there is evidence that this occurred on a reasonably large scale. This was primarily due to the structure of property ownership that placed large tracts of land in the hands of a small population of elites. This allowed for the production of sizable herds of horses as they could be managed and moved to different grazing areas throughout the year by the pastoralist population. The maintenance of this equine population was central to the success and stability of Macedonia’s cavalry, as a consistent supply of horses was required to maintain the cavalry.8 It takes time to build up a successful and sustainable breeding program, which indicates that Macedonia had established these programs prior to Philip’s rule.9 Further evidence for a stable equine population can be found in Demosthenes, as he complains about Philip’s practice of gifting horses to Athenian ambassadors as a means of gaining their favor.10 Although this comment is only one part of 7

For an interesting discussion on the connection between urbanization and sedentary agriculture and interrelations with pastoralism, see Howe (2008) 34–40. It is important to note that a socio-economic hierarchy remained in placed after Philip’s economic changes: Theopompus (BNJ F-225) makes a disparaging remark about the fact that the (roughly) 800 Companions (hetairoi) of the king owned as much land as 10,000 Greeks with the most valuable and extensive territory. In other words, the elites maintained their hold on large tracts of land, but the expansion of Macedonian territory, as well as the growth of urbanization and sedentary agriculture, increased the number of smaller farms/ land parcels. 8 Each cavalryman would have owned at least one mount, but for longer campaigns it would make sense for him to have at least two horses. Diodorus states that Alexander had 1,800 Macedonian cavalry with him when he crossed the Hellespont in 334. If we sensibly presume that each cavalryman would have traveled with at least two trained horses, this places the number of Macedonian mounts at a minimum of 3,600. 9 The gestation period for a horse is 11 months. Further, horses reach physical maturity at the age of 4 (i.e., their bones finish developing)—though the exact age can vary based on the size of the horse. The modern Thoroughbred racing industry ‘starts’ horses quite young, as they start racing at the age of 2–3, but the general practice is to start a horse at 2–3, introducing them to the riding process, then to leave them be until they are around 4 years of age, at which point they can start to begin regular work. There are parallels for this in the ancient world—Varro says that a colt should not be formally started until they are 3 (Rust. 2.7.13), while Vergil recommends waiting until “three summers are past and the fourth is come” before beginning serious training (G. 3.189–90). In terms of logistics, this would create a roughly 5-year cycle from breeding to entering regular training. In terms of brood stock, the ancient sources suggest that the earliest age one should begin using a mare or stallion for breeding is 3 (Varro Rust. 2.7.1, Columella Rust. 6.28.1, 6.27.9). 10 Dem. 19.265 and Howe (2008) 47. The custom of gifting horses as a form of diplomatic exchange has continued into the twenty-first century. As an example, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) have gifted five horses to Queen Elizabeth II between 1969 and 2016, and in 2002 the Queen gifted a horse bred in her own stables to the RCMP.

Macedonian and Thessalian Cavalry

167

Demosthenes’ many issues with the king, it is an important clue as it suggests that Macedonia was breeding good quality horses in quantities that allowed them to engage in this sort of gift giving. We can also find possible evidence for Macedonian breeding programs on Athenian dokimasia records from the fourth and third centuries, which list several facts about each cavalry horse, including the brand they bore.11 These brands serve to tell us where the animal had been born, as they represent regional designations rather than individual “breeds.” These lists contain several references to the caduceus brand, which has been connected to Macedonia as horses marked with this symbol appear on coins of Alexander I, Pausanias, and Amyntas III.12 The role of the horse in shaping Macedonian elite identity, including that of its kings, can be seen through the frequent use of equestrian iconography on Argead coinage from Alexander I to Philip II. The images present the horse in its main roles: cavalry, sport, hunting, processions, and as a symbol of wealth and prestige, indicating the pervasive presence of this animal in the social structures of Macedonia.13 This was not just a token nod to the horse as a valuable possession, it suggests that the animal was closely intertwined with daily life. Horses also appear in funerary contexts, both in terms of zooarchaeological remains and artistic representations, and here too we see them depicted in a range of roles.14 The façade of Tomb II at Vergina provides us with its now iconic hunting fresco.15 Although the original is badly worn, reconstructions depict the energy and frenzy of the hunters—both mounted and on foot. The horses rear and spin as their riders hurl javelins at their quarry. Of note is the posture of the horsemen, who mirror the twists and turns of their mounts, highlighting their ease in maintaining a secure seat during the chaos of the hunt. Likewise, the richly decorated tomb at Agios Athanasios depicts a procession of mounted men making their way to a banquet.16 The riders sit their prancing horses in a manner that suggests an expert familiarity with their mounts: their legs hang loose with no clenching of the horses’ sides, and they rest comfortably on their buttocks rather than perching forward on their crotch. The implied movement of their right arms as they join 11 For a discussion of “breeds” vs. “types” see Willekes (2016) 29–34. For the dokimasia records see Braun (1970); Kroll (1977); Bugh (1998); Blaineau (2015) 231–58. 12 Chandezon (2014) 159. Horses marked with the caduceus also appear in Attic vase painting from the sixth century onwards, Kroll (1977) 86–88. 13 For a detailed discussion about equine imagery on Macedonian coinage, see Oliver (1986). 14 For examples of some equid remains from Macedonian funerary contexts, see Antikas (2005) 143–51; Malama and Gardeisen (2005). 15 For an overview of the fresco and its context, see Borza and Palagia (2007) 90–103. 16 For an analysis of these banqueting scenes, see Palagia (2017) 417–24.

168

Willekes

in the hubbub of the procession while their left hand holds the reins indicates a degree of relaxed balance on horseback. Of equal note in both the hunting and processional frescoes is the presence of the men who walk/hunt alongside the horses. They too seem at ease in the presence of the equines. There is no tension in their body or suggestion that they are trying to stay out of their way as they move between the animals with an awareness of the equine presence, but not a fixation on it. In one part of the Tomb II fresco, a cloaked hunter on foot appears to lean into the rearing chestnut horse behind him as he goes to cast his javelin. On the Agios Athanasios fresco we see one individual reaching up to hold the bridle of a horse as the rider looks back in perhaps a distracted manner. These may seem insignificant details, but they are not. They speak volumes about an awareness of riding and training in Macedonia. Whether sitting on the horse or moving alongside it on foot, the ease with which these men interact with the equines is indicative of much time spent among them. This sense of familiarity becomes even more evident (and important) when we shift our attention to the battlefield tactics of Philip and Alexander. Philip’s emphasis on combined arms tactics, a style of combat embraced by Alexander as well, required the entire line to work as a cohesive whole, and this is not as simple as it sounds. As quadruped prey animals, horses move, think, and behave in ways that are completely different from humans; and they are reactive to the energy and body language of the humans who ride them and move alongside them. In other words, if there is tension, fear, anxiety, unease, etc., in the cavalrymen and infantrymen the horses will react in an accordingly jittery “spooked” manner. It should also be noted that horses are herd animals, which means they tend to respond to the actions of the other horses around them without questioning things. In other words, if a few horses in a cavalry unit start to panic and bolt, chances are the others will follow suit as their flight instinct kicks in.17 Thus, for there to be any hope of cohesion and the successful execution of combined arms maneuvers, the relevant units of infantry had to be comfortable fighting alongside the horses and vice versa. This would be of particular importance for the hypaspists who fought as hamippoi on the Macedonian right in the pitched battles of Alexander.18 Though there are few direct references to hamippoi in the sources, Xenophon reports that Epaminondas utilized them at Mantinea in 362, which suggests a Theban 17

18

This response is something I have experienced on many occasions while riding in a group, whether in an arena or out in the open. One horse in the group spooks at something, and there is an immediate explosion of spinning, bolting, snorting horses as everyone tries to escape the “danger.” For analysis of the hypaspists and their significance, see Anson (1985); Milns (1967, 1971).

Macedonian and Thessalian Cavalry

169

familiarity with this form of infantry, and it seems that Philip may have recognized their usefulness.19 Keeping this in mind, it is possible to read Arrian’s comment on “light infantry interspersed among the cavalry” at the Granicus as a reference to hypaspists fighting as hamippoi with the purpose of maintaining a connection between the cavalry on the right and the pezhetairoi in the center while also pulling down enemy horsemen, all the while moving between the ranks of their own attacking cavalry (Arr. Anab. 1.16.1). The effectiveness and skill of the Macedonian cavalry during the reigns of Philip and Alexander is highlighted when we look at their use against infantry.20 Cavalry had been used against infantry before, but its purpose was to skirmish and harass; rarely was it deployed to carry out a direct attack on an infantry phalanx. At first glance, this may seem the only sensible way of deploying cavalry against enemy infantry, as the phalanx presents a seemingly solid formation that should deter horses from charging into it; but the phalanx always has a weakness—its exposed flanks which become vulnerable to the much more mobile cavalry. When approaching a phalanx from the flanks or rear, there are small gaps that appear and a horse and rider could exploit these by pushing through and widening the gap, particularly when using a wedge or rhomboid formation. Of course, gaps in a line can be caused by any number of factors: terrain, the line advancing unevenly/at different speeds, etc., but one cause rarely considered is the effect of the cavalry charge itself. The innate reaction to a horse charging at you is to step out of the way, something that would create an obvious gap in a line. Soldiers were expected to hold their ground, but doing so in the face of hundreds or thousands of charging equines is easier said than done as even flinching back or away can create a seemingly imperceptible opening that a trained horse might take advantage of.21 19 Xen. Hell. 7.5.24; for Mantinea also see Gaebel (2002) 139. Xenophon (Eq. 5.13) discusses the benefits of hamippoi and Spence (1993, 58–59) provides an overview of the use of hamippoi. For the hypaspists as hamippoi, see Wrightson (2019) 181–82; Heckel (2012); Wrightson in this volume. References to hamippoi are also found in Xen. Eq. mag. 5.13 and Arist. [Ath. Pol.] 49.1. 20 For a detailed analysis of the training that went into these tactics see Willekes (2015). 21 Konijnendijk (2021, 172–76) discusses the fear and anxiety cavalry evoked in foot soldiers using several key examples from the literary sources. While working on my PhD I conducted a series of trials to see how my horse would respond to phalanx formations. It quickly became apparent that he could sense the weak spots in a line. If I dropped my reins and let him pick his route, he would always aim straight for those in the front of the line whose body language indicated that they were a bit nervous around horses and thus would flinch away from his approach, making it easier for him to push his head and chest into the line. Even at a walk this had sufficient impulsion to throw the “infantry” off balance and further weaken the line.

170

Willekes

The effective use of the Macedonian cavalry against infantry can be seen in two of Philip’s key battles: the Battle of the Crocus Field and Chaeronea. The Macedonian cavalry charge at Chaeronea highlights both Philip’s innovative tactics in the use of combined arms and the expertise of the Macedonian cavalry. The battle itself can be frustrating to reconstruct on account of the paucity of detailed accounts in the sources, and the most significant piece of scholarly contention rests around the purported charge of the Macedonian cavalry, led by Alexander, against the Theban Sacred Band (Diod. Sic. 16.86.1–6; Plut. Alex. 9; Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.2). It has been argued that the cavalry could not have successfully charged at and broken through the ranks of highly trained infantry like the Sacred Band.22 Several pieces of evidence, however, suggest that such a charge was not implausible.23 The skeletal evidence for the remains of the Sacred Band indicate that several of the individuals were killed by sharp force trauma to the top of the head, and the most likely explanation would be sword blows delivered from horseback.24 Further, when viewed in light of the long-established equestrian traditions in Macedonia, the possibility of a cavalry charge against a hoplite phalanx becomes a real possibility. There are a few things that may have worked in Philip’s favor. First, as has been mentioned, Greek cavalry traditionally played primarily supporting and skirmishing roles on the battlefield by harassing the flanks of infantry formations, engaging with enemy cavalry, and so forth. There was no real precedent for using cavalry to directly attack a phalanx. Philip changed this. When he faced off against Bardylis at Heraclea Lyncestis in 358, Philip provided an indication of the effectiveness of a concentrated cavalry charge, unleashing his cavalry against the right flank and rear of the Illyrian infantry: this was not a case of deploying cavalry to harass and distract, it was intended to deliver a clear and decisive blow to the infantry ranks.25 Philip’s confidence in the use of cavalry to break infantry formations can also be seen at the Battle of the Crocus Field in 352. Here he used his Macedonian and Thessalian cavalry to burst through the flanks and rear of Onomarchus’ infantry. Philip’s phalanx also played an important role in pinning down the enemy infantry, but the sparse accounts of the battle suggest that it was the cavalry who played the decisive role in shaping the outcome of the battle.26 22 Rahe (1981); Buckler and Beck (2008) 256. Ma (2008) completely changes the order of the battle lines, removing Alexander’s charge entirely. 23 For a detailed analysis see Sears and Willekes (2016). 24 Liston (2020) 84–87; Sears and Willekes (2016) 1034. 25 Wrightson (2019) 171; for a description of the battle, see Diod. Sic. 16.4.1–7. 26 Anson (2020) 67; Wrightson (2019) 171; Pownall in this volume; for a description of the battle, see Diod. Sic. 16.35.1–5.

Macedonian and Thessalian Cavalry

171

Thus, by the time Philip faced off against the Thebans and their allies at Chaeronea his Macedonian cavalry had become adept at attacking enemy infantry. Moreover, Philip’s use of a feigned retreat as described by Polyaenus served to weaken the cohesiveness of the Greek line and likely created gaps, particularly in response to the Athenians breaking formation in their eagerness to pursue Philip.27 Even a small gap between the Thebans and the rest of the Greek line would have presented a suitable opportunity for the Macedonian cavalry to push through and wheel into the flanks of the Sacred Band. Given the foundational role of combined arms in Philip’s (and later, Alexander’s) battle tactics, it is entirely plausible that the Macedonian cavalry were supported by infantry, likely serving as a form of hamippoi. Shifting to the career of Alexander, we can clearly see that the Macedonian cavalry played a decisive role in all his pitched battles against the Persians. As examples we can look at the deployment of the Macedonian cavalry at the Granicus in 334 and Issus in 333. Alexander had a distinct strategy that he employed in these battles. Many have termed it the “hammer and anvil” approach but it can also be visualized as a whip crack with the impetus of the attack coming from the Macedonian cavalry on the right wing (led by Alexander), the quick and sharp tip of the whip, while the Thessalian cavalry served the primary defensive role on the left wing as the whip handle which remained relatively stationary when compared to the rest of the line. At the Granicus Alexander instigated the primary action of the battle with a charge from the right, creating what can be viewed as a cavalry battle. The mounted units known as the prodromoi were sent out first, and their purpose was twofold: first, to scout a route across the river, and second, to draw out the Persian cavalry stationed on opposite riverbank.28 The prodromoi were followed immediately by Alexander and the rest of the Macedonian cavalry. Although this strategy has been referred to as a pawn sacrifice, the role of the prodromoi here should not be underestimated.29 A river is not an insurmountable obstacle for a horse to cross and an experienced cavalryman and his horse could jump or 27 Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.2; Wrightson (2019) 174; Sears and Willekes (2016) 1019; Hammond (1973) 546; Sears in this volume. 28 The prodromoi seem to have been lighter armed cavalry who also served the role of scouts. Alexander stationed them towards the front of his lines at the Granicus, Issus, and Gaugamela, presumably because of their mobility and versatility (Arr. Anab. 1.14.5–7, 2.9.2, 3.12.3). He also used them as scouts/mounted reconnaissance (Arr. Anab. 3.7.7, 3.8.1–2). For more detailed discussion about the prodromoi see Bugh (2020) 71–72; Gaebel (2002) 172–79. For detailed analysis of the Granicus see Nikolistis (1974); Badian (1977); Hammond (1980); Bosworth (1988) 35–44; Devine (1986, 1988); Sears in this volume. 29 Devine (1988).

172

Willekes

scramble/slide into and out of the river with a fair degree of control, but their chances of success would increase if a clear path across the river was followed. Given their role as scouts, it would have been beneficial for the prodromoi to be skilled in reading the landscape including river crossings, and in making quick decisions to respond to factors like changes in terrain and footing.30 Based on what happened next it seems the prodromoi found a navigable route, as the Macedonian cavalry held their ranks in a reasonably cohesive manner as they crossed the river. Arrian describes the ensuing clash with the Persian cavalry as particularly fierce, stating, Though the battle was fought on horseback, it looked more like an infantry engagement: in a confined space horses contended with horses, men with men, the Macedonians trying to drive the Persians from the bank and force them back into the plain, the Persians trying to deny the Macedonians a beachhead and force them back to the river. And in this struggle Alexander and his men gained the upper hand, not only because of their strength and experience but because they used cornel-wood spears against the Persians’ light javelins. (Arr. Anab. 1.14.4–5) The passage indicates that the Macedonian horsemen and their mounts were skilled enough to maintain order and balance as they forded and leapt out of the river, all the while placing direct pressure on the Persian cavalry. Arrian’s remarks about the more experienced Macedonian cavalry should not be read as a statement about the inferiority of the Persians as horsemen but rather a comment on the superiority of the Macedonian cavalry in this type of mounted combat: the hand-to-hand “in the thick of it” style of fighting that the Macedonians had made their own. The decisive opening action of the cavalry, supported by hypaspists fighting as hamippoi, on the Macedonian right succeeded in pushing the Persians back from the bank and sending their cavalry into flight, before they worked with the Macedonian phalanx to encircle and cut down the Greek mercenaries who had been stationed to the rear of the Persian lines (Arr. Anab. 1.16.1–2.). At Issus the Macedonian cavalry once again proved their skill and boldness.31 As with the Granicus, the main action of the battle began with a decisive and rapid charge from the Macedonian cavalry on 30 The crossing point was also important. Horses can swim quite well, but it slows them down, so an ideal point would be somewhere with relatively shallow water and secure footing (i.e., no large rocks etc.) 31 For an analysis of the battle see Heckel (2020) 89–97, (2008) 57–65; Lendon (2005) 115–39; Hammond (1992); Bosworth (1988) 58–62; Devine (1985a, 1985b); Sears in this volume.

Macedonian and Thessalian Cavalry

173

the right.32 Alexander angled his charge into the Persian kardakes and Greek mercenaries stationed across from him on the opposite bank of the Pinarus river.33 Here the Macedonian cavalry was able to draw on its expertise in breaking through infantry formations, collapsing the Persian left in a rout in what Arrian calls a “spectacular victory” (Arr. Anab. 2.10.4), though this battle also highlights the tricky nature of combined arms tactics: Alexander’s brilliant charge may have succeeded in breaking the left wing of the Persian line, but it also opened a gap between the Macedonian phalanx in the center of Alexander’s line and the hypaspists and cavalry on the right. This gap was immediately exploited by the Greek mercenaries (Arr. Anab. 2.10.4–5). In the meantime, the success of Alexander’s charge with the cavalry carried him through the Persian lines towards Darius, who wheeled and fled the battlefield, followed soon afterwards by the Persian cavalry who realized that the battle had been lost. 3

Thessalian Cavalry

Of all the regions in Greece, Thessaly was by far the best suited to the practice of hippotrophia. Its large, well-watered grassy plains were ideal for supporting large populations of grazing animals like the horse. Much like Macedonia, the region was a largely rural landscape with few urban centers, and most of the land was split into large estates owned by the elite and worked by the penestai.34 There is also evidence for the existence of small-hold farms, as well as (at least in Larissa) the practice of allotting public lands to citizens. These allotments were known as hippoteia, and it has been argued that they were used to produce horse fodder to support the equine industry in the region. In other words, these allotments of public land were intended for the purpose of maintaining horses, suggesting that there was a general interest in the hippotrophia industry.35 The geography and climate of the region also allowed for pastoralism to thrive, and the Thessalians managed their land in a way that allowed for the efficient production and maintenance of large herds as well as fodder. They seem to have understood the practice of rotating pastures/fields to improve productivity and prevent overgrazing, as Theophrastus comments 32 Arrian (Anab. 2.10.3) makes note of the speed at which Alexander attacked, presumably with the purpose to taking the Persians by surprise, particularly as the charge took the cavalry across a river. 33 The kardakes were Persian infantry, but there is some debate as to whether they were armed in the style of hoplites or peltasts. See Heckel (2020) 95; Charles (2012) 11–14. 34 Graninger (2010) 308; Strootman (2012) 53. 35 Aston and Kerr (2018) 16–17; see also Helly and Taziafalias (2013).

174

Willekes

on the Thessalian practice of grazing herds of horses on harvested stubble fields, thereby maximizing the use of the land by using it for different purposes throughout the year.36 The land gave the Thessalians a natural advantage when it came to horse production, but their social and political structures allowed them to maximize this advantage. Horse breeding and management on a large scale required not only land, but also its own industry of workers to manage it. Here too, Thessaly had an advantage as the large tracts of land owned by the elite were worked by a dependent population, the penestai. That at least some of these penestai worked with the horses and were themselves knowledgeable is suggested by a comment made by Demosthenes when he makes reference to Menon of Pharsalus sending 300 of his own mounted men (named as penestai) to assist the Athenians in the 470s (Dem. 23.199.). These penestai may have belonged to Menon himself, or the kleroi over which he had authority, but the main point of interest is that they seem to have been sent out as a cavalry force of sorts. This would have required them to be at the bare minimum competent riders.37 On a deeper level this is indicative of the pervasive presence of the horse in Thessalian society as it suggests that the privilege of riding (and riding well) was not restricted to the elite; rather it was for many a part of everyday life as they worked the land, managed the herds, and saw to their breaking in and training. Large herds of horses such as those produced by the Thessalians are far easier to manage from horseback, a fact that could explain the riding skills of members of the penestai population. Moreover, it seems that the elite were not just expected to own horses as a marker of status, but they prided themselves on their own horsemanship as well. To be involved in the production and management of one’s own herds and playing an active role in selecting and training horses was a particular point of pride for the elite.38 This may seem a minor point, but when viewed in relation to other pieces of evidence about elites and horse ownership in the Greek world, it makes an important statement. Xenophon, in his Art of Horsemanship, makes it clear that individuals who purchase young, unbacked horses should send them to a professional trainer to be “started” rather than attempting to do this themselves.39

36 Theophr. Hist. pl. 8.7.4; Howe (2011) 20; Aston and Kerr (2018) 21 who point out that evidence for a mixed economy is indicated on a series of fifth century coins which depict a horse on the obverse and an ear of grain on the reverse—see for example Triton XV (2012) lot 462 and 463. 37 Aston and Kerr (2018) 20. 38 Howe (2011) 19. 39 Xen. Eq. 2.1.1–2. Plato (Leg. 625d) has Clinias the Cretan commenting on the fact that the Thessalians travel primarily on horseback.

Macedonian and Thessalian Cavalry

175

The prominence of the horse in Thessalian life can also be seen in its frequent appearance on their coinage. In addition to the expected iconography of horsemen and cavalry are images of the horses themselves in naturalistic poses, and the importance of horse breeding to Thessalian identity can be seen on coins depicting broodmares and their foals. As the evidence suggests, the region gained a reputation for both its equestrianism and also the quality of the horses it bred.40 The Meno has Socrates commenting upon the Thessalians’ long established reputation as horsemen, Bacchylides makes reference to “horse-mastering Larissa,” a passage in Strabo lists Thessalian horses as one of the three best things in Greece, Theocritus compares the fame of Helen’s beauty to that of a Thessalian horse, while Herodotus states that the Thessalian horses were the best in all of Greece (Pl. Minos 70a; Bacchyl. 14b.10; Strabo 10.1.1; Theoc. Id. 18.30; Hdt. 7.196). Further, brands connected to Thessaly—the boukephalos (Pharsalus), pelekus (Pherae), and kentauros (Larissa)—appear with some frequency on the Athenian dokimasia tablets from the Agora and Kerameikos, indicating that Thessalian-bred horses were being imported into Attica.41 Alexander’s famous horse Bucephalus, is in some traditions said to have been given his name because he bore the boukephalos brand which would indicate that he had been bred in Pharsalus, and he was allegedly sold to Philip/Alexander for 13–16 talents, which would have been an astronomical price for a horse.42 When it comes to numbers, Jason of Pherae boasted to Polydamas (who in turn, reported this to the Spartans) that he could raise a cavalry force of 6,000, and ultimately, he succeeded in mustering 8,000 cavalry.43 This is a staggering number when considered in relation to the numbers other states were able to field, even when we look at other horse-breeding regions like Macedonia. When Philip II attacked the Illyrians soon after taking the throne he had access to 600 Macedonian cavalry, and by 352 this number had increased to 1200 (Diod. Sic. 16.4.3 and 16.35.4–5). When Alexander crossed the Hellespont, he had with him 1,800 Macedonian cavalry. These numbers pale in comparison to those produced by the Thessalians. Indeed, Alexander’s 1,800 Macedonian cavalry were matched in number by 1,800 Thessalian cavalry.44 The Thessalians also had a reputation for tactical skills and innovation. According to the sources, it was the Thessalians who developed the rhomboid formation (Asclep. 7.2; Arr. Tact. 16.1–5). This was a versatile formation, but 40 41 42 43

For an overview of Thessalian equestrian coinage see Pendleton (2004). Braun (1970); Kroll (1977); Bugh (1998). Plutarch, Alex. 6.1 and Pliny, HN 8.64 for the price tag on Bucephalus. Xen. Hell. 6.1.8 and 6.1.19. Some of those 8,000 are allied cavalry, but the majority seem to have been Thessalian. 44 Diod. Sic. 17.17.4. For a discussion of Alexander’s cavalry numbers and remounts see Chandezon (2014) 157–71.

176

Willekes

if would have required skill and coordination to maintain order in the ranks and to use it to its full potential. The shape of this formation allowed the cavalry to wheel and change direction once battle had already commenced, as it had four “points” to it, and theoretically any of these points could take the lead in a charge to counter or respond to the developing action on the battlefield. Depending on the speed at which the horses were moving, they could pivot and change direction quickly and in a relatively small space. This is achieved by pirouetting the horse on its haunches, essentially allowing them to turn on the spot, even while in forward motion. This is not the easiest move to execute as it requires a high degree of control, collection, and balance, but given the repute of the Thessalian cavalry, such maneuvers would be possible. Such tactics could very well have been used by the Thessalian cavalry at Issus, sandwiched as they were between the Macedonian infantry and the sea. Even in this confined space they could have maintained a controlled, collected rhomboid formation to continually pivot and counter the attacking Persian cavalry. Philip’s decision to bring Thessaly into his sphere of influence was a logical choice for several reasons, with access to Thessalian horsepower being a primary one. In adding the Thessalian cavalry to his forces Philip was able to field the two strongest cavalries in Greece.45 His plan certainly paid off. At the Battle of the Crocus Field, the superiority of the Thessalian cavalry played a decisive role in his victory (Diod. Sic. 16.35.4–5). As previously mentioned, Alexander brought 1,800 Thessalian cavalry with him when he crossed into Asia, and they came to serve a fundamental role in his tactics.46 The fact that the Thessalians were able to provide significant numbers of allied cavalry highlights the wealth of equine and equestrian resources in the region. This speaks to the value and success of the Thessalian approach to hippotrophia and training. Yes, they had some natural advantages in terms of topography and resources but capitalizing on those resources required a clear and logical approach to breeding and training that did not restrict the skillset to a particular group. Rather, it reflected the integration of a knowledge of horses and horsemanship that permeated different layers of Thessalian society. As Aston and Kerr put it, “For the Thessalians,

45

46

There is also some evidence that Thessaly and Macedon were viewed through a similar lens by other Greek states, particularly the Athenians. For a discussion see E. Aston (2012) 256–61. For an analysis of Thessaly and Macedonia, including relations between the two see Graninger (2010). An additional 200 Thessalian cavalry are said to have joined him at Gordian (Arr. Anab. 1.29.4).

Macedonian and Thessalian Cavalry

177

horses were not the fruits of idle self-indulgence: they were widespread possessions of genuine practical value, especially in military terms.”47 At the Granicus, Issus, and Gaugamela the Thessalians were tasked with holding the left wing of Alexander’s line. Although the sources tend to focus on the actions of Alexander and the Macedonian cavalry, it is still possible to pick out references to the fundamental importance of the Thessalian cavalry in helping him achieve his victories. Their primary role was to stabilize the left wing, serving as the pivot point from which the rest of the army attacked. This required them to take a defensive, rather than offensive role. This is a deceptively difficult thing to do as it would require the Thessalian riders to contain the energy of their horses. When under threat or stress, most horses do not want to remain in any sort of stationary position as their instincts tell them to flee danger. With these tactics, however, the Thessalian horses could not shoot forwards or spin and bolt; instead, they were required to remain a cohesive unit, pivoting and pirouetting as they repulsed and then pushed back the Persians, something very different from the forceful charge used by Alexander and the Macedonian cavalry on the right. At the Granicus, Diodorus (Diod. Sic. 17.21.4) states that the “Thessalian cavalry won a great reputation for valor because of the skillful handling of their squadrons and their unmatched fighting quality.” At Issus, the Thessalians held their own against a ferocious attack as “the Persian horsemen posted opposite the Thessalians did not remain on the opposite bank in the actual engagement, but after boldly fording the stream attacked the Thessalian squadrons. A desperate cavalry battle ensued …” (Arr. Anab. 2.11.2). The skill and versatility of the Thessalian cavalry can be seen in what happened next as the Persian cavalry spun into retreat once they realized Darius had abandoned the battlefield. The Thessalians immediately changed gears and set off in pursuit, continuing to attack as they rode down the now fleeing Persians. Curtius makes reference to the Thessalians “… smartly wheeling their horses about.”48 At Gaugamela the Thessalians took their accustomed position on the left, where they were responsible for holding back the bulk of the Persian cavalry. Diodorus tells us that in the opening stages of the battle Parmenion and his troops were “… fighting brilliantly, he even seemed to have the upper hand thanks to the fighting qualities of the Thessalians …” (Diod. Sic. 17.60.6). The sources report that they found themselves overwhelmed by the Persian horse, and that Parmenion had to request immediate assistance from 47 Aston and Kerr (2018) 3. 48 Curt. 3.11.14; also Arrian (Anab. 2.11.7) states that the Thessalians attacked the Persians “stoutly.” Diodorus writes that the Thessalians were “outstanding in bravery and skill” (17.33.2) and Plutarch says that they “particularly distinguished themselves at Issus” (Alex. 24.1).

178

Willekes

Alexander, who was already in pursuit of a fleeing Darius (Arr. Anab. 3.15.1–2; Diod. Sic. 17.60.7; Curt. 4.16.2; Plut. Alex. 33). At first glance this seems to place the Thessalians in a rather poor light, but a close inspection makes it evident that the Thessalians were able to gain the upper hand and put the Persians into flight prior to the arrival of Alexander and his reinforcements. Indeed, Arrian states quite succinctly that “the Thessalian horsemen, who had fought gloriously, did not prove inferior to Alexander in the action” (Arr. Anab. 3.15.3). The accounts of the Thessalian action in these three battles make it clear that they played a fundamental role in Alexander’s victories, serving as a strong and skilled counterpart to the Macedonian cavalry. Their versatility is evident from their ability to shift between defensive and offensive action, all the while protecting Alexander’s lines against Persian attack. 4

Arms and Armor

Greek cavalrymen typically wore a helmet, breastplate, and high boots into battle. In terms of helmets, the preferred style varied between regions and periods. In the case of Macedonia, Illyrian and Thracian helmets appear on some fifth-  and fourth-century coins, but the Macedonian cavalry depicted on the Alexander Sarcophagus and the Alexander Mosaic wear Boeotian helmets.49 Breastplates were a standard component of Macedonian cavalry armor. Thraco-Macedonian coins minted by the Ichnai, Orreskioi, and Bisaltai from the end of the sixth and early fifth centuries depict a male figure wearing a breastplate walking alongside, or standing in front of his horse.50 Further, Thucydides makes reference to fifth-century Macedonian cavalry wearing breastplates, implying that this gave them a particular advantage on the battlefield (Thuc. 2.100.5). Fourth-century numismatic evidence depicts Macedonians wearing a close-fitting cuirass, and Plutarch makes reference to Alexander III wearing a linen breastplate at Gaugamela.51 Xenophon is adamant that the cavalry breastplate should be close-fitting with long pteryges to help protect the rider’s thighs: such a breastplate is depicted on the late 49 Snodgrass (1967) 166; see also Anderson (1961) 148. What appears to be a Thracian-style helmet is seen on the cavalryman fresco in the Kinsch tomb as well. Xenophon recommends the Boeotian helmet as the best suited to cavalry combat thanks to the range of vision in provided Eq. 12.3. 50 Oliver (1986, 68) refers to the iconography on these coins as a rider training his horse. 51 Plut. Alex. 32—Plutarch states that the linen breastplate had been part of the spoils from Issus. For a discussion about the use of linen armor by Alexander III see Aldrete et al. (2013) 14–15.

Macedonian and Thessalian Cavalry

179

fourth-  to early third-century Nicanor stela from ancient Heraclea on the Axios River.52 Breastplate-wearing cavalrymen can also be found on Thessalian coins. Particularly detailed examples minted by Alexander of Pherae depict a cavalryman wearing a “muscle” cuirass and Boeotian-style helmet; early fourth-century coins from Larissa likewise depict horsemen outfitted in breastplates. In both cases, the long pteryges recommended by Xenophon for added protection and ease of riding are visible.53 In terms of weaponry, javelins or spears served as the primary arm. Xenophon preferred the javelin and he suggests that each cavalryman should carry two javelins, one to be thrown from a distance while charging the enemy and the other to be used in close combat.54 These double javelins are regularly attested in the iconographic record, and such a horseman appears frequently on both Macedonian and Thessalian coinage in what appear to be military and hunting contexts.55 The javelin would have been a versatile weapon well suited to skirmishing and hit-and-run tactics, with the speed and power of the horse adding greater force to a javelin toss. A cavalryman could also carry a single, spear measuring eight to nine feet in length with a spear head and butt spike. The robustness of the spear made it more durable than a javelin, and it is a weapon of this design that Arrian comments upon when discussing the Macedonian victory at the Granicus (Arr. Anab. 1.14.4–5.) Once again, there is iconographic evidence for the single spear in the Thessalian and Macedonian records.56 As a secondary weapon Xenophon prefers the shorter, curved, single edged kopis or machaera over the straight double edged xiphos.57 This blade was well suited for use from horseback as its weight and balance allowed the horseman to slash and hack downwards in a manner that could deliver

52 Xen. Eq. 12.3–4; for the Nicanor stela see Hatzopoulos and Juhel (2009) 430. 53 For examples of coins see Pendleton (2004) plate 10a for Pherae, Triton XV (2012) lots 292 and 293 for Larissa. 54 Xen. Eq. 12.11–13. Xenophon recounts a skirmish between Persian and Greek cavalry in which the Greek spears broke but the Persian cornel wood javelins did not (Hell. 3.4.13–14). See also Anderson (1961) 150–51. Throwing the javelin while the horse was in motion at a canter or gallop would add to the strength of the throw if the rider timed the release just right. Spence (1993, 50–51) also mentions the use of a throwing loop to add distance. 55 For example, see Anderson (1961) plate 25; Spence (1993) plate 7. The double javelin appears on Thessalian coinage: see, for example, Triton (2012) lot 158 from Larissa, 547 from Perhhaiboi. For early Macedonian examples see Raymond (1953) plates II–VII, X–XI. 56 Triton XV (2012) lot 292, 293, 393.5, 534 for Thessalian examples from Larissa and Pelinna; for Macedonia see Oliver (1986) 69–70. 57 A short sword can be seen hanging from the hip of a cavalryman in a series of coins issued by Pelinna towards the end of the fifth century. See Triton XV (2012) lot 512 for an example.

180

Willekes

devastatingly effective blows, such as that delivered by Cleitus at the Granicus when he severed the arm of Spithridates at the shoulder.58 One question in relation to the arms of the Macedonian cavalryman is the existence of a cavalry sarissa.59 The infantry sarissa was a revolutionary piece of equipment, which raises the question of whether Philip introduced something similar for the Macedonian cavalry, and the role such a weapon might have played a role in shaping their effectiveness, particularly against infantry. The source material can be frustratingly ambiguous in terms of trying to answer these questions. Arrian notes that the Macedonian cavalry used a spear (xyston) made of cornel wood at the Granicus, and states that this weapon played a key role in giving them an upper hand over the Persians (Arr. Anab. 1.15.5). Here he makes a clear distinction between the Macedonian xyston and the Persian palton. The term xyston can be translated as either a spear or a lance, and along with the dory is distinguished from the akon and palton, which both serve as forms of javelins; both the xyston and the dory are heavier with more robust shafts than a javelin.60 Where does the concept of a cavalry sarissa fit into all of this?61 First, there is the question of length. The infantry sarissa ranged, on average, between fifteen to eighteen feet in length.62 Although there are plenty of references to the infantry sarissa in the ancient record, evidence for the cavalry sarissa is a bit more difficult to find. There are sparse literary references to mounted sarissaphoroi, and it seems this term can be used somewhat interchangeably with the prodromoi.63 Two often cited pieces of visual evidence are the Alexander Mosaic and Alexander Sarcophagus. It has been argued that these two works indicate that the cavalry sarissa was almost identical in length to the version used by the phalanx, and that based on measurements and ratios in these visual depictions the spears carried by the Macedonian cavalry were fifteen to sixteen feet in length.64 Certainly, both the Alexander Mosaic and Sarcophagus 58 Arr. Anab. 1.15.8. For discussions on swords see Sidnell (2006) 33–34; Spence (1993) 54–56. 59 For detailed debates and discussion on the topic of the cavalry sarissa, see Markle (1977) 483–97; Bugh (2020) 73-75. 60 Gaebel (2002) 162; he also points out that the xyston is used more frequently within the context of cavalry spears. 61 For a succinct overview of the topic see Bugh (2020) 73–75. 62 Markle (1977) 323; Asclep. 5.1; Arr. Tact. 12.7; Theophr. Hist. pl. 3.12.2, Polyaenus, Strat. 2.29.2. During the Hellenistic period the sarissa could reach lengths of twenty-one to twenty-four feet (Polyb. 18.29.2–4). 63 Arrian (Anab. 1.14.1) and Curtius (4.15.13) refer to Sarissaphoroi. 64 Arguments for cavalry sarissa of such a length are made by Markle (1982, 104–11) and Corrigan (2004, 440–531).

Macedonian and Thessalian Cavalry

181

depict Alexander carrying what appears to be a long spear. Upon closer inspection of the Alexander Mosaic, however, we can see that the cavalryman in the Boeotian helmet behind Alexander is wielding a much shorter spear as he stabs down at an opponent.65 Further, the arguments based on these two pieces of visual evidence presume that the rider is holding the spear at the center of the shaft. Depending on the context of the situation, however, a cavalryman may choose to “choke up” on his hold (i.e., move the hand further up the shaft to have more control over the tip) or slide the grip further back on the shaft to give him more reach. From a practical perspective, a cavalry sarissa in the style and near dimensions of an infantry sarissa does not suit the style of mounted combat used by the Macedonian cavalry. The balance point of the infantry sarissa is about three-quarters of the way down the shaft, with the idea that the butt spike can be jammed in the ground when a defensive stance is taken. The entire point of the Macedonian cavalry was to serve as a mobile and powerful offensive force on the battlefield, and while their cavalry spears included a butt spike to serve as a counterweight/secondary weapon, something in the dimensions of an infantry sarissa would become a liability on horseback. Moreover, a spear of fifteen to sixteen feet in length would have restricted use in combat. The greater length and weight would make it more difficult for the rider to shift his grip once action had commenced; yet visual evidence of cavalry combat show both over and underhanded grips being used, suggesting that cavalrymen were accustomed to adjusting their use of the spear to the suit the situation they faced.66 Although the greater length of the weapon could prove advantageous in the initial charge, it would become a liability once the Macedonian cavalry entered into close combat fighting. What was a cavalryman to do with his very long spear once the cavalry broke through the enemy 65 Gaebel (2002) 169–71. Connolly (2000, 103–109) discusses the viability of a fifteen-foot cavalry sarissa (see below for more detailed commentary on this experiment). 66 Markle (1977, 336–37) admits that this would be an issue with the form of cavalry sarissa he is proposing. Connolly (2000, 107–109) ran experiments with a reconstruction of a cavalry sarissa measuring fifteen feet in length. While the test rider was able to hit a dummy with reasonable accuracy, there were issues with a weapon of this length. It wobbled quite violently at the trot, though became more stable at the canter (something I can attest to as well). The rider was able to use it in either an over or underhand grip, but there is no suggestion that he was easily able to switch between the two. Of particular interest is the photo showing the rider “retrieving” the sarissa after striking a blow on the dummy, as it swings out behind his horse in a horizontal arc. This works well when riding alone but could prove risky when riding in formation as there would be a real risk of striking the horses (or hamippoi) around you as you retrieved the weapon. Further, Connolly concludes that a weapon of this length would be best suited to the under-arm attack, but he does go on to state that it would not work well in close combat fighting.

182

Willekes

ranks? Theoretically, he could drop the sarissa and switch to a sword, but this an impractical approach to combat as using the sarissa solely for the initial charge would make it an expensive and wasteful weapon. In addition to this, Arrian’s account of the Granicus makes it clear that the Macedonian cavalry continued to use their spears once the enemy ranks had been engaged (Arr. Anab. 1.15.6–7). This suggests that the spear was a favored weapon rather than something to be discarded. As a result, it had to be of a length and design that could be easily and effectively maneuvered in close combat. Further, a fifteen-foot sarissa would not suit the wedge formation that the Macedonian cavalry is said to have used, as there would be a risk of either the head or butt spike hitting other members of the formation if the horses were charging in a relatively tight order.67 Thus, any form of cavalry sarissa must have been a more manageable size.68 So where does all of this leave us in relation to the existence of a cavalry sarissa? Given the many military reforms that Philip introduced and the stunning successes the Macedonian cavalry achieved on the battlefield, it is reasonable to suggest that they were using a modified form of spear, quite likely with a thicker and longer shaft. In terms of length, a “cavalry sarissa” of ten to twelve feet would prove useful to the tactics used by the Macedonian cavalry under Philip and Alexander. A weapon of such a length would be both manageable and versatile, rather than unwieldy and impractical. It would provide a greater reach in the initial charge, while also remaining a maneuverable weapon that could be used in close quarters as the cavalrymen fought their way through enemy ranks while still maintaining a reasonably tight and cohesive formation.69 So what makes it a cavalry sarissa? The length and thickness do have a part to play in this designation, but the significance of the term lies in how it was used, rather than deriving entirely from its size/length. Much as the pezhetairoi of the Macedonian phalanx used their sarissas to press and push directly into the enemy ranks, so too did 67

68

69

Measurements on equines ranging in size from fourteen hands high to fifteen hands high (roughly the height of ancient Greek horses) indicate a body length (point of shoulder to hindquarters) of 5′3″ to 5′9″. With a fifteen-foot sarissa, this would leave approximately 4.55–4.85 feet of the weapon projecting in front of and behind the horse’s body if the rider was holding the sarissa at the center of the shaft. This would affect the tightness of any cavalry formations, as one would need to ensure that there was enough space between the tips of the sarissas and the next line of horses. Napoleonic lancers made deadly use of their nine-foot lances, using them to stab, cut, and thrust against their opponents. Using this comparative material, along with other visual and archaeological evidence, Manti (1983, 77–80) suggests that a Macedonian cavalry sarissa did not need to be particularly long to be effective. For discussions around a nine- to twelve-foot sarissa: Sidnell (2006, 81–84) suggests twelve feet; Gaebel (2002, 161–65) suggests seven to ten feet; Manti (1983, 1994) suggests nine feet; Worley (1994, 156) suggests nine feet.

Macedonian and Thessalian Cavalry

183

the Macedonian cavalry use their cavalry sarissas in tandem with their bold and decisive charges to break both infantry and cavalry lines. Thus, the cavalry sarissa was a weapon of greater length and weight than the traditional xyston, but not equal in size to the infantry sarissa. One could view it as taking a “middle ground” between the two, as it was designed to withstand the shock of impact into the enemy ranks, without losing its adaptability and usefulness in close quarters. 5

Conclusion

There is no doubt that Philip and Alexander recognized the importance of cavalry. At Heraclea Lyncestis, the Battle of the Crocus Field, and Chaeronea Philip made a clear statement about the effectiveness of cavalry against ranks of infantry. Alexander built his pitched battles around the two cavalry wings of his army, using them to both attack and hold off the Persian lines. For both kings, the Macedonian and Thessalian cavalries played a central role in their victories. Key to this success was the skill of the horsemen and their mounts. Horses were woven into the fabric of the economy and society in Macedonia and Thessaly, and their significance extended beyond that of a mere ornament or status symbol. This familiarity with the horse allowed Philip and Alexander to capitalize on the expertise of the Macedonian and Thessalian cavalry, using their deeply ingrained knowledge of horses, horsemanship, and mounted combat to make Macedonia a pre-eminent power in the ancient world. Works Cited Anderson, J. K. (1961) Ancient Greek Horsemanship. Berkeley. Anson, E. (1985) “The Hypaspists: Macedonia’s Professional Citizen-Soldiers.” Historia 34: 246–48. Anson, E. (2010) “The Introduction of the sarissa in Macedonian Warfare.” AncSoc 40: 51–68. Anson, E. (2020) Philip II, The Father of Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues. London. Antikas, T. G. (2005) “The Honor to be Buried with Horses from Mycenaean Nemea to Macedonian Vergina,” in Gardeisen (2005) 143–51. Aston, E. (2012) “Friends in High Places: The Stereotype of Dangerous Thessalian Hospitality in the Later Classical Period.” Phoenix 66.3–4: 247–71. Aston, E. and Kerr, J. (2018) “Battlefield and Racetrack: The Role of Horses in Thessalian Society.” Historia 67: 2–35. Badian, E. (1977) “The Battle of the Granicus: A New Look.” Ancient Macedonia 2: 27–71.

184

Willekes

Barr-Sharrar, B. and Borza, E. N. (eds) (1982) Macedonia and Greece in Late Classical and Early Hellenistic Times. Studies in the History of Art 10. Washington D.C. Blaineau, A. (2015) Le Cheval de guerre en Grèce ancienne. Rennes. Borza, E. N. and Palagia, O. (2007) “The Chronology of the Macedonian Royal Tombs at Vergina.” JDAI 122: 81–118. Bosworth, A. B. (1988) Conquest and Empire: The Reign of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Braun, K. (1970) “Der Dipylon-Brunnen B1: Die Funde.” MDAI(A) 85: 197–269. Brice, L. L. (ed) (2020) New Approaches to Greek and Roman Warfare. Hoboken, NJ. Brunt, P. A. (1963) “Alexander’s Macedonian Cavalry.” JHS 83: 27–46. Buckler, J. and Beck, H. (2008) Central Greece and the Politics of Power in the Fourth Century BC. Cambridge. Bugh, G. (1998) “Cavalry Inscriptions from the Athenian Agora.” Hesperia 67: 81–90. Bugh, G. (2020) “Greek Cavalry in the Hellenistic World: Review and Reappraisal,” in Brice (2020) 65–80. Charles, M. B. (2012) “The Persian ΚΑΡΔΑΚΕΣ.” JHS 132: 7–21. Chandezon, C. (2014) “Chevaux et remonte dans le cavalerie d’Alexandre,” in Gardeisen and Chandezon (2014) 157–71. Connolly, P. (2000) “Experiments with the Sarissa—The Macedonian Pike and Cavalry Lance—A Functional View.” JRMES 11: 103–12. Corrigan, D. (2004) “Riders on High: An Interdisciplinary Study of the Macedonian Cavalry of Alexander the Great.” PhD Dissertation, University of Texas at Austin. Devine, A. M. (1985a) “The Strategies of Alexander the Great and Darius III in the Issus Campaign (333 B.C.).” AncW 12: 25–38. Devine, A. M. (1985b) “Grand Tactics at the Battle of Issus.” AncW 12: 39–59. Devine, A. M. (1986) “Demythologizing the Battle of the Granicus.” Phoenix 40: 265–78. Devine, A. M. (1988) “A Pawn Sacrifice at the Battle of the Granicus: The Origins of a Favourite Stratagem of Alexander the Great.” AncW 19: 3–20. Erskine, A., Llewellyn-Jones, L., and White, S. (eds) (2017) The Hellenistic Court: Monarchic Power and Elite Society from Alexander to Cleopatra. Swansea. Gaebel, R. E. (2002) Cavalry Operations in the Ancient Greek World. Norman, OK. Gardeisen, A. (ed) (2005) Les Équidés dans le monde Méditerranéen antiques. Lattes. Gardeisen, A. and Chandezon, C. (eds) (2014) Équidés et bovidés de la Méditeranée antique: rites et combats; jeux et savoirs. Lattes. Graninger, D. (2010) “Macedonia and Thessaly,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 306–25. Greenwalt, W. (2015) “Infantry and the Evolution of Argead Macedonia,” in Howe et al. (2015) 41–46. Griffith, G. T. (1963) “A Note on the Hipparchies of Alexander.” JHS 83: 68–74. Hammond, N. G. L. (1973) Studies in Greek History. Oxford. Hammond, N. G. L. (1980) “The Battle of the Granicus River.” JHS 100: 73–88.

Macedonian and Thessalian Cavalry

185

Hammond, N. G. L. (1992) “Alexander’s Cavalry Charge at the Battle of Issus in 333 B.C.” Historia 41: 395–406. Hammond, N. G. L. (1998) “Cavalry Recruited in Macedonia down to 322 B.C.” Historia 47: 404–25. Heckel, W. (2008) The Conquests of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Heckel, W. (2012) “The Royal Hypaspists in Battle: Macedonian hamippoi.” AHB 26: 15–20. Heckel, W. (2020) In the Path of Conquest: Resistance to Alexander the Great. Oxford. Helly, B. and Taziafalias, A. (2013) “Décrets inédits de Larisa organisant la vente de terre publiques attribuées aux cavaliers.” Topoi 18: 135–249. Howe, T. (2008) Pastoral Politics: Animals, Agriculture, and Society in Ancient Greece. Claremont, CA. Howe, T. (2011) “Good Breeding: Making Sense of Elite Animal Production in Ancient Greece.” Scholia 20.1: 4–24. Howe, T., Garvin, E., and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2015) Greece, Macedon and Persia: Studies in Social, Political and Military History in Honour of Waldemar Heckel. Oxford. Konijnendijk, R. (2021) “Cavalry and the Character of Classical Warfare,” in Konijnendijk, Kucewicz, and Lloyd (2021) 169–204. Konijnendijk, R., Kucewicz, C., and Lloyd, M. (eds) (2021) Brill’s Companion to Greek Land Warfare Beyond the Phalanx. Leiden. Kroll, J. H. (1977) “An Archive of the Athenian Cavalry.” Hesperia 46: 83–140. Kypraiou, L. (ed) (2004) Το νόμισμα στο Θεσσαλικό χώρο. Athens. Lendon, J. E. (2005) Soldiers and Ghosts: A History of Battle in Classical Antiquity. New Haven, CT. Liston, M. (2020) “Skeletal Evidence for the Impact of Battle on Soldiers and NonCombatants,” in Brice (2020) 81–94. Ma, J. (2008) “Chaironea 338: Topographies of Commemoration.” JHS 128: 72–91. Malama, P. and Gardeisen, A. (2005) “Inhumations d’équidés dans la nécropole orientale d’Amphipolis, Grèce,” in Gardeisen (2005) 16–181. Manti, P. (1983) “The Cavalry Sarissa.” AncW 8: 73–80. Manti, P. (1994) “The Macedonian Sarissa, Again.” AncW 25: 77–91. Markle, M. M. (1977) “The Macedonian Sarissa, Spear, and Related Armor.” AJA 81: 483–97. Markle, M. M. (1982) “Macedonian Arms and Tactics under Alexander the Great,” in Barr-Sharrar and Borza (1982) 86–111. Milns, R. D. (1967) “Philip II and the Hypaspists.” Historia 16: 509–12. Milns, R. D. (1971) “The Hypaspists of Alexander III: Some Problems.” Historia 20: 186–95. Moreno Hernandez, J. J. (2004) “La caballería Macedonia: teoría y práctica.” Gladius 24: 109–22.

186

Willekes

Murison, C. L. (1972) “Darius III and the Battle of Issus.” Historia 21: 399–423. Nikolitsis, N. T. (1974) The Battle of the Granicus. Stockholm. Oliver, P. (1986) “Numismatique et iconographie: le Cavalier Macédonien.” Supplèments au Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique 14: 67–76. Palagia, O. (2017) “The Royal Court in Ancient Macedonia: The Evidence for Royal Tombs,” in Erskine, Llewellyn-Jones, and White (2017) 409–31. Pendleton, E. J. (2004) “Six Centuries of Thessalian Horses on Coins,” in Kypraiou (2004) 25–32. Rahe, P. A. (1981) “The Annihilation of the Sacred Band at Chaeronea.” AJA 85: 84–87. Raymond, D. (1953) Macedonian Royal Coinage to 413 BC. Numismatic Notes and Monographs 126. New York. Roisman, J. and Worthington, I. (eds) (2010) A Companion to Ancient Macedonia. Oxford. Sears, M. (2019) Understanding Greek Warfare. New York. Sears, M. and Willekes, C. (2016) “Alexander’s Cavalry Charge at Chaeronea, 338 BCE.” The Journal of Military History 80: 1017–35. Sidnell, P. (2006) Warhorse: Cavalry in Ancient Warfare. London. Spence, I. (1993) The Cavalry of Classical Greece: A Social and Military History. Oxford. Snodgrass, A. M. (1967) Arms and Armour of the Greeks. London. Strootman, R. (2012) “Alexander’s Thessalian Cavalry.” Talanta 42: 51–67. Triton XV (2012) The BCD Collection of the Coinage of Thessaly. New York. Worley, L. (1994) Hippeis: The Cavalry of Ancient Greece. Boulder, CO. Willekes, C. (2015) “Equine Aspects of Alexander the Great’s Macedonian Cavalry,” in Howe, Garvin, and Wrightson (2015) 47–58. Willekes, C. (2016) The Horse in the Ancient World: From Bucephalus to the Hippodrome. London. Wrightson, G. (2010) “The Nature of Command in the Macedonian Sarissa Phalanx.” AHB 24: 73–94. Wrightson, G. (2019) Combined Arms Warfare in Ancient Greece: From Homer to Alexander the Great and His Successors. New York.

Chapter 8

The Role of Mercenaries Franca Landucci 1

Introduction

In every time and every place, the mercenary soldier has always been considered unreliable and dangerous even by those who request his services. For this reason he is left on the margins of society. The Greeks, too, shared this opinion, and therefore for a long time they denied the existence of mercenaries in their armies even at a linguistic level.1 Our sources from the Archaic Age to the fifth century BCE do not have ad hoc terms meaning “paid soldier.”2 Instead, they speak either of citizen-soldiers (ὁπλῖται) who defend their homeland, or of “comrades in struggle” (ἐπίκουροι) who, in case of need, support the army of the polis. Already Homer (Il. 2.815; 3.456; 6.111; 13.755; 16.538) and Archilochus (frr. 15 and 216 West) use the term ἐπίκουρος in contexts related to the world of mercenaries, and generally to Asia and Asia Minor. For the ἐπίκουρος/mercenary equivalence, a fragment of Nicolaus of Damascus is fundamental. It focuses on Alyattes, the king of the Lydians between 610 and 560. According to Nicolaus (BNJ 90 F 65), Alyattes ordered his commanders to lead the army into Sardis on a fixed day. Among these was Croesus, his eldest son, who had been appointed governor of Adramytteion and the plain of Thebe. Croesus, however, so they say, was unable to do it because of his luxury, and was accused in front of his father. As he wanted to get rid of these accusations in this 1 Much has been written about mercenaries in the Greek world since two fundamental monographs were published a few years apart: Parke (1933); Griffith (1935). Over time, many studies have been published, especially in Italy: fundamental is Bettalli (2013), with extensive discussion of the previous bibliography, because it traces the entire history of Greek mercenaries from the Archaic to the Hellenistic age. It should be noted that the mercenary trade in western Greece has now acquired an autonomous physiognomy that is beyond our interests. In this latter regard, Tagliamonte (1994), now integrated by Bettalli (2013) 317–64, remains important. On the lexicon of mercenaries, see Lavelle (1989) 36–39; Trundle (1998) 1–12; Landucci Gattinoni (2001) 65–85. 2 All dates in this chapter are BCE, unless otherwise indicated.

© Franca Landucci, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_010

188

Landucci

campaign, and having difficulties in hiring mercenaries (in fact, mercenaries were employed), Croesus went to Sadyattes the merchant, the richest of the Lydians, since he wanted to ask him for money. In this fragment Nicolaus uses the term ἐπίκουροι in connection with the verb μισθῶμαι (“to hire”) and with the adjective μισθωτοί (“hired”), to clarify to his first-century BCE readers that the ἐπίκουροι of the time of Croesus were not just “comrades in battle,” but actual “paid soldiers.”3 From the beginning of the fourth century, mercenaries are no longer referred to as ἐπίκουροι (“comrades in struggle”), but as ξένοι, that is, “foreigners,” and above all as μισθοφόροι, that is, “wage earners.” In the mighty Athens of the fifth century, the μισθοφόροι were the citizens with no property who, by the will of Pericles (see Thuc. 2.37.1 and 40.2; Pl. Grg. 515e), could participate in public life. In the fourth century, amid a severe economic crisis, the Greeks with no property had to find a way to survive. Even in the fourth century, however, the mercenaries’ bad reputation remains, as evidenced by a famous passage of Isocrates: “although we seek to rule over all men, we are not willing to take the field ourselves, and although we undertake to wage war upon, one might almost say, the whole world, we do not train ourselves for war but employ instead vagabonds, deserters, and fugitives who have thronged together here in consequence of other misdemeanors, who, whenever others offer them higher pay, will follow their leadership against us … And we have reached such a degree of imbecility that, although we are ourselves in need of the necessities of daily existence, we have undertaken to support mercenary troops and we do violence to our own allies and extort money from them in order to provide pay for the common enemies of all mankind” (Isoc. De pace 44–46). The text demonstrates how the economic crisis following the Peloponnesian War forced many people to become μισθοφόροι in the service of those who were able to pay: the king and the satraps of the Persian Empire. 2

Philip II’s Mercenaries

In 360/59, the Illyrians defeated and killed the Macedonian king Perdiccas III in battle, along with 4,000 of his soldiers (Diod. Sic. 16.2.4–5). The deceased king had a son, Amyntas, still a baby: therefore, in a dramatic situation, the Macedonians chose Philip, Perdiccas’ younger brother, as his heir.4 As soon as 3 On the importance of mercenaries for the kingdom of Lydia, see Bettalli 2013, 246–48. 4 Diodorus (16.2.4–5) states that Philip inherited the kingdom, which was in poor condition. Justin (Epit. 7.5.8–10) on the other hand, claims that, at the beginning, Philip was regent on

The Role of Mercenaries

189

he arrived at the head of Macedonia (as a king or regent), Philip had to face two pretenders to the throne, Pausanias and Argaeus, who contested the legitimacy of his power. He managed to get rid of both and initiated many reforms to optimize the resources of his country and galvanize the population, subjugated by his undeniable charisma.5 Among his reforms, that of the army stands out for its importance. Still, the sources do not tell us much about it: the text of Diodorus (16.3.1–3) is generic, while that of Polybius (18.29–32) is broader, but he speaks of the Macedonian phalanx only to compare it with the Roman legion. However, given that, thanks to the rich gold and silver mines of Mount Pangaeum, Philip II had great wealth, it would be easy to assume that he made extensive use of mercenaries, as did the king and the satraps of the Persian Empire at the same time. Philip, on the other hand, did not base the power of his army on mercenaries but on the Macedonians, trained to make of war their main activity: in practice, he built a professional army made up of citizens.6 However, the king of Macedon indeed also used mercenary troops that could strengthen the structure of his army. But to get information on these troops, we cannot use Book 16 of Diodorus’ Library, which tells us little or nothing about it. The information about Philip’s mercenaries comes either from Demosthenes’ passages, generally very hostile to the sovereign, or from anecdotes preserved by the scholarly tradition, which are not always reliable. As late as 341, Demosthenes was trying to convince his fellow Athenians that Philip II’s troops were not up to par with those formed by the Greek hoplites: “On the other hand you hear of Philip marching unchecked, not because he leads a phalanx of heavy infantry, but because he is accompanied by skirmishers, cavalry, archers, mercenaries, and similar troops” (Dem. Philipp. 3.49). The orator does not specify the duties of either the archers or the mercenaries. However, the archers mentioned by Demosthenes were certainly mercenaries from Crete because the Cretans were famous throughout the Mediterranean Sea for their skill with bow and arrow: they were regularly enlisted by anyone who had the money to do so. Beyond any controversy, Demosthenes informs us that Philip used mercenaries to occupy garrisons (Dem. Philipp. 3.32), or to make expeditions far from Macedonia, such as that in Euboea (Dem. Philipp. 3.33; 58) or in the Megarid (Dem. De falsa legat. 295), where he preferred not to behalf of his nephew Amyntas and only after some time assumed the title of king without killing Amyntas, who remained at the court of Pella. Even today, scholars discuss the question, without reaching shared conclusions: see Worthington (2008), 21, who denies regency, and Mari (2019), 93, who instead considers it quite sure. In any case, Philip II, as king or regent, became master of Macedonia soon after the death of his brother Perdiccas. 5 On the history of Philip’s reign, see Worthington (2008); Landucci Gattinoni (2012). 6 For these reflections, see Bettalli (2013) 377–83.

190

Landucci

use the Macedonians. For the Euboic expedition, Demosthenes adds that the mission involved a thousand mercenaries led by the Macedonian Hipponicus: “Philip … sent Hipponicus with a thousand mercenaries: he razed the walls of Porthmus, and set up three tyrants, Hipparchus, Automedon, and Clitarchus” (Dem. Philipp. 3.58). Even in the vanguard sent to Asia Minor shortly before being killed, Philip had enlisted mercenaries: according to Diodorus (17.7.10), after king’s death, the Macedonian general Calas7 fought against the Persians in the Troad with an army composed of Macedonians and mercenaries. The mercenary contingents of Philip II’s army, therefore, were led by Macedonian generals who enjoyed the sovereign’s trust and were able to guarantee the loyalty of these soldiers. Only in two episodes does Philip appear to have personally commanded mercenary troops, although there are doubts about the reliability of both cases. In the first instance, there is a military action set in Thessaly: “Philip was besieging Pharkedon, a Thessalian city. The Pharkedonians surrendered the city. As Philip’s mercenaries entered, they fell into an ambush” (Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.18). The second case concerns an ex post story of Alexander during the banquet in which Cleitus the Black died.8 However, no coordinates, neither spatial nor temporal, are given on this episode: But the older men remained silent until he [Alexander] began to belittle the deeds of Philip and to boast that … Philip, when a quarrel had arisen between the Macedonian soldiers and the Greek mercenaries, being disabled by a wound which he had suffered during that disturbance, had fallen to the ground and could find no other expedient to protect himself better than feigning death; but that he had protected his father’s body with his shield, and with his own hand had slain those who were rushing upon him. (Curt. 8.1.24) Apart from these two episodes, a careful reading of the sources indicates that Philip, during his military campaigns, has brought the mercenaries back to their original function: to be a complementary force, not a substitute for the Macedonian troops. Although Philip could efficiently recruit many mercenaries thanks to the incomes of the rich gold and silver mines of Mount Pangaeum, he always preferred his Macedonian soldiers. In so doing he upgraded the infantry, alongside the traditional aristocratic cavalry.9 7 See Heckel (2021) 232 8 On Cleitus the Black, see Heckel (2021) 245-246; on his death, see Landucci (2019) 173–76. 9 See Anson (2022) 17–31.

The Role of Mercenaries

191

In conclusion, Philip II never cared too much about the mercenaries in his service: he only used them if and when he did not see fit to put the Macedonian soldiers at risk. However, he always wanted to control the mercenaries through Macedonian generals, because he despised the so-called “venture captains” who led them, as shown by an anecdote related to one of them, Docimus of Tarentum: “At his camp Philip stripped Docimus the Tarentine in the army, because he used warm bath water, saying, ‘You seem to me ignorant of the ways of the Macedonians, among whom not even a woman who has given birth bathes with warm water’” (Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.1). Philip II, therefore, had always had a detached relationship with the mercenaries because he based his power strategy on the interaction with his fellow soldiers: the king was the commander in chief of the Macedonians, who followed him in battle and, with the victories, obtained glory and wealth. 3

Alexander’s Mercenaries

3.1 The First Years As is known, Alexander became king in the autumn of 336 after Philip II’s murder by a bodyguard named Pausanias.10 The young sovereign, just 20 years old, had to face many revolts of peoples already subjected to Macedonian hegemony in the first year of his reign. Last but not least, there was the Theban uprising, also secretly fomented by Athens: Alexander swooped into Boeotia from the northern borders of Macedonia with a forced march, invited the Thebans to surrender and, faced with their refusal, stormed the city and destroyed it, as a perennial warning to all Greeks. Alexander’s historians recount these events in detail (with the only exception being Curtius Rufus, because the first two books of his Historia Alexandri Magni are lost) but do not mention mercenaries’ presence in Alexander’s army.11 The story of the expedition against Persia, in the spring of 334, is different from the start. Diodorus (17.17.3–5), Plutarch (Alex. 15.1–2), and Arrian (Anab. 1.11.3) inform the reader of the size of the Macedonian army that landed in 10 On Philip’s death, see Worthington (2008) 172–86; Landucci Gattinoni (2012) 127–35; Heckel et al. (2017) 92–124. 11 Regarding the Alexandrographers, there is no room here for a reflection on the greater or lesser importance of the various historians based on their sources: the reliable sources, Aristobulus and Ptolemy for Arrian, and the so-called vulgata (i.e., Cleitarchus) for all the others (Diodorus, Curtius Rufus, Justin and Plutarch): for a summary, see Baynham (2003) 3–29. Therefore, on the question of mercenaries, we will use historiography simply for the information reported, without degrees of judgment: for a summary, see Bettalli (2013) 383–99.

192

Landucci

the Troad. On the one hand, Plutarch and Arrian only say that Alexander led about 30,000 infantry and 5,000 horsemen; on the other hand, Diodorus mentions the mercenaries’ presence and accurately describes Alexander’s various troops: There were found to be, of infantry, twelve thousand Macedonians, seven thousand allies, and five thousand mercenaries, all of whom were under the command of Parmenion. Odrysians, Triballians, and Illyrians accompanied him to the number of seven thousand; and of archers and the so-called Agrianians one thousand, making up a total of thirty-two thousand foot soldiers. Of cavalry there were eighteen hundred Macedonians, commanded by Philotas son of Parmenion; eighteen hundred Thessalians, commanded by Calas son of Harpalus; six hundred from the rest of Greece under the command of Erigyius; and nine hundred Thracian and Paeonian scouts with Cassander in command, making a total of forty-five hundred cavalry. These were the men who crossed with Alexander to Asia. (Diod. Sic. 17.17.3–5) As in Philip’s time, therefore, also under Alexander, a Macedonian general was at the head of the mercenaries: in this case, Parmenion, one of the closest collaborators of the deceased king, who had immediately supported the new sovereign. Although Diodorus does not give any information on the origin of the 5,000 mercenaries, many likely came from the Peloponnese, where economic crisis and war events had impoverished much of the people.12 The Greeks enlisted among Alexander’s 7,000 allies were in a very different situation than the mercenaries, even if the latter might have been of Greek origin. They were troops sent by the communities belonging to the League of Corinth, commanded by their fellow citizens, and had to answer for their actions to the institutions of their communities.13 Although the sources say nothing about the salary paid by Alexander to his mercenaries, in 1935, Griffith14 tried to quantify this pay, starting from the comparison between an Athenian inscription (IG II3.1 443), unfortunately very incomplete, and a passage of Arrian (Anab. 7.23.3). The inscription contained the text of the treaty that Alexander had renewed with the Greeks of the League 12 13 14

Think of the situation in Sparta after the loss of Messenia by Epaminondas in 369: many Spartiates, deprived of their land, had been forced to become mercenaries to survive, see Landucci Gattinoni (2004) 161–90. On this issue, see Bettalli (2013), 285–86. Griffith (1935) 297–300.

The Role of Mercenaries

193

of Corinth immediately after his accession to the throne. From the surviving letters of lines 9–10 it is clear that the Greek hoplites allied with the Macedonians would have taken one drachma per day, that is thirty drachmas per month. On the other hand, Arrian deals with this topic regarding Alexander’s recruitment of Persian contingents in the Macedonian army at Babylon in the last months of his life. The historian states that Alexander enrolled the Persians in the Macedonian battalions, with a Macedonian decadarch to lead each decad and next to him a Macedonian on double pay and a “ten-stater” man, so called from the pay, which was less than the men on double pay, but more than the rank and file received (Arr. Anab. 7.23.3).15 These two sources appear different and distant from each other; nevertheless, Griffith hypothesized that Macedonian soldiers were divided into three groups: the common soldier, with a pay of thirty drachmas per month, the soldier on double income, with a salary of sixty drachmas per month, the “tenstater man,” with a pay of forty drachmas per month. According to him, the mercenaries would be paid as common soldiers, thirty drachmas per month.16 Griffith’s hypothesis seems very weak because neither the inscription nor Arrian’s passage deals with the pay of the mercenaries. In my opinion, therefore, we cannot say anything precise about the salary of Alexander’s mercenaries from the beginning of the expedition. However, it is possible to think that the mercenaries were not paid more than the Macedonian soldiers, to prevent discontent from spreading among the latter. To return to the text of Diodorus (17.17.3–5), we see that the mercenary troops represented 10–15% of Alexander’s army: a small contingent that, as in Philip II’s reign, had support functions in non-fundamental tasks for the sovereign.17 Indeed, in connection with the first clash of the Macedonians with the Persians, at the Granicus River, still in the spring of 334, the sources do not mention Alexander’s mercenaries. In contrast, they point out that the Persians deployed many Greeks enlisted as mercenaries under their flags.18 The victorious Alexander captured 2,000 Greek mercenaries in the service of Persia and treated them with great harshness:19 in fact, he condemned them to be deported to Macedonia to work in the mines as traitors to the homeland. 15

On the passage of Arrian, see the commentary by Zambrini in Sisti and Zambrini (2004) 644–45. On pay scales see Meeus in this volume. 16 For this assumption, see also Agostinetti Simonetti (1977–1978) 2–4. Contra, Milns (1987) 233–56, who assumes a much higher level of the wages of Macedonian soldiers than that cited by Arrian. 17 Bettalli (2013) 386–87. 18 On the battle of the Granicus, see Landucci (2019) 95–99. 19 Arr. Anab. 1.16.2. On Alexander and these Greek mercenaries, see Landucci Gattinoni (1994) 33–61.

194

Landucci

In the spring of 333, however, Alexander saw fit to increase the number of mercenaries in his army. Therefore, he sent a Macedonian officer named Cleander to the Peloponnese with orders to enlist soldiers (Curt. 3.1.1). Cleander rejoined Alexander a year later, when the ruler was beginning the siege of the Phoenician city of Tyre: he brought with him a contingent of 4,000 Greek mercenaries who joined Alexander’s army (Arr. Anab. 2.20.5; Curt. 4.3.11). Meanwhile, the Macedonian king had fought and won the second great pitched battle against the Persians at Issus in the autumn of 333. For the first time, he had clashed with king Darius III, who had fled in the face of the Macedonian attack, letting the enemy take over the camp where his family was staying. In the description of the armies lined up before the battle, Arrian (Anab. 2.9.3–4) informs us that the foreign mercenaries deployed behind the army, as a support force. In contrast, the Greek mercenaries had been placed on the right wing with allied contingents to lengthen the infantry’s line. Before starting to fight, Alexander spoke to his men and pronounced the names “not only of generals but even of commanders of squadrons and companies, as well as any of the mercenaries who were conspicuous for rank or for any brave action” (Arr. Anab. 2.10.2). The mercenaries do not appear to have played a significant role in the battle, although they certainly must have contributed to Alexander’s final victory anyway. However, in the aftermath of Issus, Alexander wanted to increase the number of mercenaries in his service. As we have already noted, in the spring of 332, in Phoenicia, 4,000 Greek mercenaries, led by Cleander, joined the expedition. In the winter of 332–331, the king was joined by 400 other Greek mercenaries sent to him by Antipater, Philip’s general who had been left in Macedonia as commander in chief of Alexander’s European territories (Arr. Anab. 3.5.1). The battle of Gaugamela marked the definitive defeat of Darius III, on October 1, 331,20 and for the first time, mercenary soldiers were employed in the front row. According to Arrian (Anab. 3.12.1–5), in fact, on the right wing, the “so-called old mercenaries” (οἱ ἀρχαῖοι καλούμενοι ξένοι) were lined up close to the Macedonian archers, under Cleander, and the mercenary cavalry under Menidas was deployed in front of all these. On the left wing, in front of the whole force, was stationed the foreign mercenary cavalry under Andromachus, son of Hieron. We must not forget that, on the Persian side, the Greek mercenaries were stationed on either side of Darius and of the Persian troops with him, exactly opposite the Macedonian phalanx, as they were considered the only troops capable of being a counterpoise to it (Arr. Anab. 3.11.7). 20

On the battle of Gaugamela, see Landucci (2019) 137–41.

The Role of Mercenaries

195

In the battle, Alexander’s mercenaries were not the protagonists of decisive actions; Darius’ mercenaries, on the other hand, tried in vain to counter the strength of the Macedonian phalanx. Thus, it was again evident that the mercenaries remained less decisive than the Macedonian infantry and cavalry in Alexander’s army. 3.2 Alexander and Darius’ Legacy After victory at Gaugamela, Alexander went to Babylon and distributed a substantial bonus to his soldiers, including mercenaries, from the treasure accumulated there. According to Diodorus (17.64.6), they received two months’ salary; according to Curtius (5.1.45), they received three months’ salary. Regardless of this difference, these passages show that Alexander did not forget the mercenaries when he was celebrating an epochal victory with all his army: the panhellenic section of Alexander’s military campaign ended in Gaugamela. The sufferings of the Greeks due to the Persian Wars were avenged, and the avenger was now sitting on the throne that had been of the Achaemenid dynasty. After the defeat of Darius III and his escape to the eastern satrapies of his already half-destroyed empire, Alexander entered Persis and took possession of the ancient capitals: Susa, Persepolis, and Ecbatana. In this new situation, the sovereign decided that the Greek contingents, present in the army as allies, had to be discharged. In so doing, Alexander officially declared the role of the League of Corinth in his expedition closed and presented himself to the defeated as the new and sole master of the empire. At the same time, however, the sovereign offered the newly discharged soldiers the possibility of re-enlisting in his army as mercenaries and, according to Arrian (Anab. 3.19.5–6), there were not a few who accepted the invitation, thus strengthening the Macedonian army with experienced veterans.21 The sources tell us nothing about the reasons that pushed these men to remain in the army, but many of them may have left neither family nor land in Greece on which to base their future. They could have considered the Asian adventure the best way to survive economically; moreover, some of them may have established more uxorio relationships with the women following the army, and wanted to stay with them.22 After Darius’ death, other mercenaries joined Alexander’s army: about 1,500 Greeks had followed Darius after Gaugamela and had fled to the mountains when the Achaemenid ruler was killed. They surrendered to a Macedonian officer named Andronicus, who was looking for them and led them to Alexander. 21 22

On the farewell of Greek veterans, see also Diod. Sic. 17.74.3–4; Curt. 6.2.17. See Loman (2005) 346–65.

196

Landucci

The latter enlisted them in his army and put Andronicus at their head (Arr. Anab. 3.24.4–5). In the following years, between 329 and 326, Alexander conquered the so-called “upper satrapies” (αἱ ἄνω σατραπεῖαι), reaching the borders of India, the so-called Punjab (“country of the five rivers”), the hydrographic basin of the Indus River, a foothill area of alluvial nature on the edge of the Himalayan mountains. In this period, the sources repeatedly mention the arrival of reinforcements from Europe:23 the ethnic origin of the various contingents is always in the foreground, but the mercenary nature of their enlistment is never emphasized. Nonetheless, many of these neo-soldiers could have been attracted to Asia by rumors that arrived in Greece about the fabulous riches that had fallen into Alexander’s hands. They also knew that in Asia each and every man was given the opportunity to earn a nest egg impossible to obtain at home, where the economic crisis had raged for a long time. On the march to Punjab, cavalry and mercenary infantry are often mentioned by sources, notably by Arrian,24 who also does not hide some of their failures. The historian dwells on the description of an action carried out against the rebel satrap Spitamenes by a contingent composed of sixty Macedonian knights and 2,300 mercenaries, 800 knights and 1,500 infantry. They fell into a trap and were all massacred (Arr. Anab. 4.5.2–9). Even in the great battle of Hydaspes against the Indian king Porus the mercenaries played a secondary role: they were commanded to remain on the west bank of the river and to cross it only after the start of the fight (Arr. Anab. 5.12.1). Actually, in these difficult years, the most significant employment of mercenaries must have been in the garrisons and the newly founded cities, even if the sources are not always explicit on this issue.25 Alexander, indeed, did not want (and could not) stay away from the Macedonian soldiers in whom he placed all his trust. Still, he also needed to maintain garrisons in the territories he left behind. The importance of mercenaries’ (forced) presence in garrisons and new foundations is made explicit in the speech that Coenus, a Macedonian officer, addresses to Alexander, for all the soldiers, on the western banks of the Hyphasis River, the easternmost tributary of the Indus; Coenus asks him not to cross it and to go back. Coenus’ speech is evidently constructed ex post, but clarifies the terms of the outstanding issues:

23 For a detailed list of the passages, see Bettalli (2013) 394, n. 29. 24 See, e.g., Arr. Anab. 3.25.4, 29.5, 4.3.6–7, 4.6. Similar information also in Curt. 5.27, 6.24. 25 On Alexander’s new foundations, see Landucci (2019) 213–18, with discussion of sources and bibliography.

The Role of Mercenaries

197

As for the other Greeks, some have been settled in the cities you have founded, and even they do not remain there entirely of their own free will; others are still sharing in your exertions and dangers, but they and the Macedonian forces have lost part of their number in battle; others have been invalided from wounds, and have been left behind in different parts of Asia; but most have died of sickness, and of all that host few survive, and even they no longer enjoy their bodily strength, while their spirit is far more worn out. One and all, they long to see their parents, if they are still alive, their wives and children, and indeed their own homeland, which they may pardonably long to look on once more, for with the honored of the provision you have made for them, they will return great and wealthy, instead of being humble and poor. (Arr. Anab. 5.27.5–6) Coenus highlights the difficulties encountered by the Greeks settled in the new cities founded by Alexander, Greeks who, at this point in the military campaign, must be considered mercenaries enlisted in the Macedonian army. The deep discontent generated by these difficulties exploded a few months later when the (false) news spread of Alexander’s death due to the injuries sustained in the siege of the city of Malli. According to Diodorus (17.99.5), many of these Greek mercenaries settled in Bactria and Sogdiana rebelled against the Macedonians because they could no longer bear to live among barbarian peoples. Diodorus comes back to this issue again at the beginning of Book 18, where he states: “The Greeks who had been settled by Alexander in the upper satrapies, as they were called, although they longed for the Greek customs and manner of life and were cast away in the most distant part of the kingdom, yet submitted while the king was alive through fear; but when he was dead they rose in revolt” (Diod. Sic. 18.7.1). Diodorus, leaving no room for doubt, highlights the contrast between Alexander’s desire to settle Greek mercenaries in Asia and the latter’s desire to return to their homeland. Modern scholars have been very concerned with this issue: according to them, these settlements first had the military objective of controlling territories with complex logistics.26 In my opinion, however, it cannot be excluded that Alexander wanted to settle many Greek mercenaries in Asia to avoid the disorders that they could have created if they had returned to their homeland. As a matter of fact, they would have been ready to question the socio-economic assets of the poleis, as Isocrates had long feared (Phil. 120–21).27 In this perspective, Pausanias’ clear words cannot be overlooked; 26 27

About this, see Bosworth (1988) 245–50. See Landucci Gattinoni (1995) 120–40. Skeptical is Bettalli (2013) 395–96 and n. 32.

198

Landucci

he, praising the Athenian Leosthenes, at the time of the Lamiac War, states: “Leosthenes  … had already proved himself a general benefactor of Greece. All the Greeks that were serving as mercenaries in the armies of Darius and his satraps Alexander had wished to deport to Persia, but Leosthenes was too quick for him, and brought them by sea to Europe” (Paus. 1.25.5). Alexander had long hoped that the settlement of mercenaries in the new foundations east of the Tigris River would solve two problems: on the one hand, the need to control the conquered territories, and, on the other, the opportunity to offer a new way of life to men without secure social and economic perspectives at home. Regardless of this, Alexander also faced new problems, always related to the mercenaries, when he was still marching west. He realized that, during his absence, many satraps and generals, of Macedonian and/or Persian origin, had acquired too much autonomy, thanks to the armies they had at their disposal, almost all composed of mercenaries. Alexander severely punished satraps and generals accused of betraying his trust,28 and, according to Diodorus (17.106.3), ordered the dismissal of all mercenaries who were in the service of these potential rebels. As highlighted by Luisa Prandi,29 “even the consequences of the disbandment, that is the shift towards the west of a large number of mercenaries, are dealt with only by Diodorus, in a subsequent step, linked to the situation in Athens in 324/23 BCE.” During this period Greece was the scene of disturbances and revolutionary movements from which arose the war called Lamian. The reason was this. The king had ordered all his satraps to dissolve their armies of mercenaries, and as they obeyed his instructions, all Asia was overrun with soldiers released from service and supporting themselves by plunder. Presently they began assembling from all directions at Cape Taenarum in Laconia, whither came also such of the Persian satraps and generals as had survived, bringing their funds and their soldiers, so that they constituted a joint force. Ultimately, they chose as supreme commander the Athenian Leosthenes, who was a man of unusually brilliant mind, and thoroughly opposed to the cause of Alexander (Diod. Sic. 17.111.1–3). As Bettalli says,30 the confluence of many mercenaries at Cape Taenarum, in the Peloponnese, transformed this place into an “international” center for gathering men awaiting enlistment. This situation could not fail to arouse fears of looting and turbulence in Greece, and these fears may have reached the ears of Alexander, who now arrived in Susa in the spring of 324. In this context, Alexander arguably conceived the famous decree on exiles, 28 See Landucci (2019) 208–10. 29 Prandi (2013) 191–92. 30 Bettalli (2013) 397.

The Role of Mercenaries

199

brought to the attention of the Greeks during the 324 Olympics, also to try to tackle the problem of too many mercenaries gathered in Cape Taenarum waiting to find a new engagement. According to Diodorus ( 17.109.1) and Curtius (10. 2.4–7), on that occasion, a herald communicated that, by the king’s will, all exiles could return to their homeland, except sacrilegious thieves and those guilty of murder.31 The return to their communities of origin of many of these mercenaries, already exiled from their small homelands, could help reduce the risk that the enemies of the Macedonians would too easily find men in Cape Taenarum to enlist for new rebellions against Macedonian rule. We cannot quantify the number of those who had tried their luck as mercenaries in Asia, first under the Persians, then with Alexander. Griffith thinks of at least 100,000 men for “the number of mercenaries who had seen service with Alexander himself or his governors”;32 in further support of Griffith’s figure we might note that after Alexander’s death another sizable number tried to leave Asia but were killed. These were impressive numbers that justified Alexander’s fears. After the king’s death, the presence of so many mercenaries who had returned to Greece contributed to the outbreak of the Lamian War, desired and voted for with enthusiasm in Athens by an assembly where the proponents of the fight against Macedonia prevailed over the supporters of peace. In this regard, the words of Diodorus are paradigmatic: In the Assembly at Athens, while the men of property were advising that no action be taken and the demagogues were rousing the people and urging them to prosecute the war vigorously, those who preferred war and were accustomed to make their living from paid military service were far superior in numbers. These were the men of whom Philip once said that war was peace and peace was war for them. (Diod. Sic. 18.10.1) In this case, it was a question of Greek mercenaries who had returned to their homeland and who perhaps had tried to take advantage of Alexander’s decree about exiles’ return to their cities. However, it is clear that many of the mercenaries stationed in the urban neo-foundations, or still serving in the Macedonian army at the time of the sovereign’s death, remained in Asia. They continued to seek new jobs, perhaps because they thought that they would only 31 Diodorus goes back, speaking more extensively of Alexander’s decree read during the Olympic Games in the following book (18. 8 2–4), concerning the causes of the so-called Lamian War: in this regard, see Landucci Gattinoni (2008) 58–60. 32 Griffith (1935) 39.

200

Landucci

find hunger and poverty at home. This hypothesis is demonstrated by the history of the Diadochi in the post-Alexander era. The Diadochi fought an endless series of wars, which aimed either to claim the entire legacy of the deceased king or to carve out a slice of the territory of his empire on which to dominate in an autocratic way. In each of these wars, all the Diadochi enlisted thousands of mercenaries into their armies, many of whom are presented by sources as veterans of Alexander’s campaigns. These mercenaries had given up on a possible return to their homeland because, in the wars between Alexander’s Successors, they had seen the possibility of new engagements and new spoils from which they did not want to be excluded. Beyond the reasons and the ways that had pushed them to the first engagement, these mercenaries were now professional soldiers who did not see for themselves a different future from the one played on the battlefields. Works Cited Agostinetti Simonetti, A. (1977–1978) “I mercenari nell’esercito di Alessandro Magno.” Atti CeRDAC 9: 1–17. Anson, E. M. (2022) “Philip and Alexander and the Nature of Their Personal Kingship,” in Pownall et al. (2022) 17–31. Baynham, E. (2003) “The Ancient Evidence for Alexander the Great,” in Roisman (2003) 3–29. Bearzot, C. and Landucci, F. (eds) (2004) Contro le ‘leggi immutabili’. Gli Spartani tra tradizione e innovazione. Milan. Bettalli, M. (2013) Mercenari. Il mestiere delle armi nel mondo greco antico. Rome. Bettalli, M. and Brizzi, G. (eds) (2019) Guerre ed eserciti nell’antichità. Bologna. Bosworth, A. B. (1988) Conquest and Empire: The Reign of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Griffith, G. T. (1935) The Mercenaries of the Hellenistic World. Cambridge. Heckel, W. (2021) Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander and his Successors, from Chaironeia to Ipsos (338-301 BC). Havertown, PA Heckel, W., Howe, T., and Müller, S. (2017) “‘The Giver of the Bride, the Bridegroom, and the Bride’: A Study of the Murder of Philip II and Its Aftermath,” in Howe et al. (2017) 92–124. Howe, T., Müller, S., and Stoneman, R. (eds) (2017) Ancient Historiography on War and Empire. Oxford. Landucci Gattinoni, F. (1994) “I mercenari nella politica ateniese dell’età di Alessandro. Parte i. Soldati e ufficiali mercenari ateniesi al servizio della Persia.” AncSoc 25: 33–61.

The Role of Mercenaries

201

Landucci Gattinoni, F. (1995) “L’emigrazione forzosa dei mercenari greci di Alessandro,” in Sordi (1995) 125–40. Landucci Gattinoni, F. (2001) “I mercenari e l’ideologia della guerra,” in Sordi (2001) 65–85. Landucci Gattinoni, F. (2004) “Sparta dopo Leuttra: storia di una decadenza annunciata,” in Bearzot and Landucci (2004) 161–90. Landucci Gattinoni, F. (2008) Diodoro Siculo. Biblioteca storica. Libro XVIII. Commento storico. Milan. Landucci Gattinoni, F. (2012) Filippo re dei Macedoni. Bologna. Landucci Gattinoni, F. (2019) Alessandro Magno. Rome. Lavelle, P. (1989) “Epikouroi in Thucydides.” AJPh 110: 36–39. Loman, P. (2005) “Mercenaries, Their Women, and Colonisation.” Klio 87: 346–65. Mari, M. (2019) “Da Cheronea a Cinoscefale (338–197 a.C.): l’età della falange macedone,” in Bettalli and Brizzi (2019) 89–116. Milns, R. D. (1987) “Army Pay and the Military Budget of Alexander the Great,” in Will and Heinrichs (1987) 233–56. Parke, H. W. (1933) Greek Mercenary Soldiers from the Earliest Times to the Battle of Ipsus. Oxford. Pownall, F., Asirvatham, S. R., and Müller, S. (eds) (2022) The Courts of Philip II and Alexander the Great. Berlin. Prandi, L. (2013) Diodoro Siculo. Biblioteca storica. Libro XVII. Commento storico. Milan. Roisman, J. (ed) (2003) Brill’s Companion to Alexander the Great. Leiden. Sisti, F. and Zambrini, A. (eds) (2004) Arriano. Anabasi di Alessandro. Volume II. Milan. Sordi, M. (ed) (1995) Coercizione e mobilità umana nel mondo antico. Milan. Sordi, M. (ed) (2001) Il pensiero sulla guerra nel mondo antico. Milan. Tagliamonte, G. (1994) I figli di Marte: Mobilità, mercenari e mercenariato italici in Magna Grecia e Sicilia. Rome. Trundle, M. (1998) “Epikouroi, Xenoi and Misthophoroi in the Classical Greek World.” War & Society 16: 1–12. West, M. L. (1971), Iambi et elegi Graeci, Vol. 1. Oxford. Will, W. and Heinrichs, J. (eds) (1987) Zu Alexander dem Grossen. Festschrift Gerhard Wirth zum 60. Geburtstag am 9.12.86. Amsterdam. Worthington, I. (2008) Philip II of Macedonia. New Haven, CT.

Chapter 9

Infantry Allies and Subjects Sulochana R. Asirvatham 1

Introduction

The centrality of the phalanx to Philip’s and Alexander’s military successes prompts questions about how the Macedonian infantry incorporated non-Macedonians into its forces as it helped conquer new lands, and the degree to which these forces were willing allies, compelled subjects, or a combination of the two. The answers (inasmuch as they can be determined, which is hardly always the case) vary according to ethnicity, as foreign forces joined Philip’s and Alexander’s armies at different times and for different reasons. As such, it is convenient to split non-Macedonian infantry into three bodies: Greek (section 2), Balkan (section 3), and Asian (section 4). Each section attempts to catalogue our evidence for the presence of various foreign infantrymen in Philip’s and/or Alexander’s armies, and briefly considers the question of the degree to which we can see them as “loyal allies” in a strongly positive sense. It is only in the cases of two bodies of soldiers—the (Paeonian or Thracian) Agrianian akontists (javelin-wielding peltasts) and the Persian Epigonoi, 30,000 youths outfitted as Macedonian soldiers—that the concept of alliance seems to apply. These two bodies enter the army under highly different circumstances and for different reasons, and they appear very differently in the sources. The Agrianians are a faceless but steadfast presence at war; the Epigonoi are presented throughout the tradition as manifestations of Alexander’s increasingly Persian proclivities. The conclusion of this paper, however, considers the possibility that, like the Epigonoi, the Agrianes may also have been recipients of Alexander’s favoritism specifically over the Macedonian soldiery. 2

Non-mercenary Greeks

2.1 Evidence for Greek Foot-Soldiers in Philip and Alexander’s Armies Quantities of non-mercenary Greeks seem to have entered the Macedonian army in two phases: first, with Philip’s expulsion of the tyrants of Thessaly during the Sacred War (356–346), second, with the establishment of the League of Corinth in 338/337. The Thessalians apparently offered Philip and Alexander

© Sulochana R. Asirvatham, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_011

Infantry Allies and Subjects

203

only cavalry.1 The superiority of the Thessalian cavalry was legendary: Justin (Epit. 7.6.8–9) says that the main reason for Philip’s attack on Thessaly was to acquire its cavalry, through which means Philip “combined a force of horse and foot into one invincible army” (unumque corpus equitum pedestriumque copiarum invicti exercitus fecit). This explanation2 suggests that the Thessalians only contributed cavalry and thus clarifies a seeming ambiguity found in Diodorus in his description of the Battle of the Crocus Field: “Philip, having persuaded the Thessalians to prosecute a war in common, brought together all the soldiers, over twenty thousand foot and three thousand horse” (ὁ μὲν Φίλιππος πείσας τοὺς Θετταλοὺς κοινῇ τὸν πόλεμον ἄρασθαι συνήγαγε τοὺς πάντας πεζοὺς μὲν ὑπὲρ τοὺς δισμυρίους, ἱππεῖς δὲ τρισχιλίους, Diod. Sic. 16.35.4). One translator renders συνήγαγε τοὺς πάντας as “gathered all of them together,”3 suggesting perhaps that the foot soldiers were part of the Thessalian contribution—for which Xenophon (Hell. 6.1.8), in fact, supplies a precedent, indicating that in 374 Thessaly was capable of supplying over 10,000 hoplites along with 6,000 horse. Nevertheless, it is simpler to translate Diodorus’ τοὺς πάντας as “all,” which would make the numbers of horse and foot refer to Philip’s entire force.4 Furthermore, subsequent references to Thessalians in Alexander’s army only refer to cavalry. In any case, the conquest of Thessaly brought in other Greeks, who presumably supplied at least some foot soldiers. Diodorus tells us that after Philip won over the Thessalians by expelling the tyrants, neighboring Greeks were prompted to join him as well (16.69.8), just as he had expected. Soon after, the conquest of the Thracians won over additional Greek allies (16.71.2). The Macedonians probably had some Greeks in their army at Chaeronea,5 but we hear no more about Greek allies until the creation of the League of Corinth (338/337), which required members to supply troops. Justin (Epit. 9.5) 1 When types of Thessalian soldiers are specified (e.g., Arr. Anab. 1.25.2; 3.11.10; Curt. 3.2.16), it is uniformly to cavalry. On allied cavalry, see Willekes in this volume. All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated. 2 Apparently simplistic, given the complexities of Philip’s self-insertions into Thessalian civil strife. On the circumstances that led to the conquest of Thessaly, see Graninger (2010) 313–17. 3 Sherman’s Loeb translation reads: “Philip, having persuaded the Thessalians to prosecute the war in common, gathered them all together, numbering more than twenty thousand foot and three thousand horse.” 4 Note the lack of distinction between foot and horse in Diodorus’ numbers in 16.30.3–4: the Locrians have soldiers both foot and horse amounting to more than 10,000; the Thessalians and their neighbors assemble a force of 6,000; the Boeotians and Achaeans come to support the Phocians with 13,000 and 1,500 soldiers, respectively. 5 Diodorus lists 30,000 infantry at Chaeronea (16.85.5). At the Hellespont, Alexander had 12,000 Macedonian infantry and left 12,000 infantry back in Europe; from here Worthington calculates 6,000 Greek allied infantry fighting for the Macedonians at Chaeronea (2008, 147).

204

Asirvatham

furnishes us with numbers for the allied Greek forces: 200,000 infantry and 15,000 cavalry (which he specifies were in addition to the Macedonian and barbarian troops). Their most visible action before the Asian campaign would have been in aiding Alexander’s destruction of a rebellious Thebes in 335.6 We see no new numbers for Greek allies until the crossing of the Hellespont in 334, with radically smaller numbers than Justin’s 200,000.7 Of our sources, only Diodorus lists the number of infantry and cavalry forces at the Hellespont separately and by ethnicity (17.17.3–4), starting with the Macedonian and Greek forces: Parmenion led 12,000 Macedonians, 7,000 allies, and 5,000 mercenaries (17.17.3). The limited evidence suggests that the Greek allies were considered reserve forces. Heckel understands allied infantry to be present at Issus, Tyre, and Gaza, from Arrian’s mention of Balacrus replacing Antigonus Monophthalmos as their strategos in spring 333 (Arr. Anab. 1.29.3)8 and, later, the transfer of those forces before Gaugamela to Coeranus (Arr. Anab. 3.5.6).9 Arrian refers to Peloponnesians and “the rest of the allies” in the left wing under Parmenion at Issus, which Bosworth takes as a mix of light infantry and cavalry.10 Allied Greek infantry were also presumably part of what Arrian calls a “second line” at Gaugamela, which Bosworth describes as containing League of Corinth allies, mercenaries, and Balkan troops not used elsewhere.11 Its officers were instructed to wheel around to meet the enemy in case of attack (3.12.1); that line finds its utility when it attacks some Persian and Indian cavalry who had unexpectedly broken through the front line and were headed towards the baggage train (3.14.6). Arrian, however, is the only source for the second line (though 3.11.3 implies that it came from Aristobulus), and he labels these men as, simply, “those who were stationed behind” (οἱ ἐπιτετάγμενοι).

6

Justin (Epit. 11.3) lists the Phocians, Plataeans, Thespians, and Orchomenians; Diodorus (17.13.5) lists the Thespians, Plataeans, and Orchomenians. 7 For the overall infantry force at the Hellespont, the numbers are fairly consistent. Justin (Epit. 11.6.2) gives 32,000 infantry and 4,500 cavalry. Arrian (Anab. 1.11) says that Alexander led a little over 30,000 foot soldiers together with light-armed troops and archers and more than 5,000 cavalry. Plutarch (Alex. 15) cites the smallest numbers (30,000 foot and 4,000 horse) and the largest numbers (43,000 foot and 5,000 horse) he has found; in De Alex. fort. he specifies that Aristobulus gave the numbers of 30,000 foot and 4,000 horse; Ptolemy 30,000 foot and 5,000 horse; and Anaximenes 43,000 foot and 5,500 horse. 8 All Arrian references are to the Anabasis unless otherwise noted. 9 Heckel (2006) 68. 10 Bosworth (1980a) 209. 11 Bosworth (1980a) 301. See also Bosworth (1980a) 210–11 on the second line at Issus, for which Arrian (Anab. 2.9.3) only mentions mercenaries.

Infantry Allies and Subjects

205

The lack of specificity is noteworthy.12 Given the combined strength of the Macedonian phalanx, the pan-Macedonian hypaspists,13 and the elite cavalry (including Greek), most of whom are described alongside their commanders, Greek infantry were apparently too strictly supplemental to warrant explicit mention. Not so the Greek mercenaries, whom Arrian places at Issus (2.9.3–4) and Gaugamela (3.12.1-5). Indeed, as Landucci points out in this volume, while Greek mercenaries had limited use in Alexander’s army, Alexander may have preferred them over the allies for their knowledgeability of the enemy, for whom some would have previously fought, and, as Bosworth notes, because the allies’ loyalty could be doubted.14 We could conceivably imagine that the Greek allied infantry’s primary use was not in Asia but in Europe. Diodorus tells us that when Alexander embarked on his Asian campaign in 334, he left 12,000 infantry and 1,500 horse with Antipater in Europe (17.17.5). We can surmise (especially if we accept something close to Justin’s high number of 200,000 allied infantry offered by the Greek League states and compare it to Diodorus’ low number of 7,000 allied infantry at the Hellespont) that these infantry would have included substantial Greek allied infantry. Antipater’s force seems to have grown considerably by 331, when he successfully fought against Agis III of Sparta, who had led a revolt against the Macedonians aided by a coalition of rebellious Greek cities. Diodorus tells us that Agis’ besieging of Megalopolis caused Antipater to turn his attention from Thrace and march to the Peloponnese with his full force of 40,000 troops, which included “soldiers from those of the Greeks who remained allies” (παρὰ τῶν συμμαχούντων Ἑλλήνων στρατιώται, 17.63.1). There could also be uses for allied infantry in Asia, however, that were not on the battlefield: for example, infantry were likely included in the forces of “Peloponnesians and most of the other allies” whom Arrian says Alexander sent with Calas and Alexander son of Aeropus to Memnon’s country after Granicus, and in the Argive garrison he left behind at Sardis (Arr. Anab. 1.17.8). 2.2 Allies or Subjects? The only official treaty we know of between Philip and non-Macedonians is that of the League of Corinth, which made them σύμμαχοι (the single inscription marking the event, from Athens, does not use this word specifically, but 12

There is more specificity for the Greek cavalry, who appear at Granicus (Arr. Anab. 1.14.3), Issus (Diod. Sic. 17.33.2; Arr. Anab. 2.8.9), and Gaugamela (Arr. Anab. 3.11; Diod. Sic. 17.57.3–4), each time with a commander name. 13 On this force see, e.g., Heckel (2013). 14 Bosworth (1980a) 210.

206

Asirvatham

refers to not harming anyone “of those sharing in the peace” (τῶν τ-[ῆς εἰρήνης κοινωνούντ]ων)). We can assume that states sent infantry, cavalry, and warships as required by Philip or Alexander. Among Greek allies, only the Thessalian horsemen seem to have the sort of intimate association with Macedon that would foster true fellow-feeling beyond the League rules. But the reality of ceaseless rivalry among poleis certainly helped create a provisional loyalty towards Macedon, as noted above in the cases of Alexander’s invasion and destruction of Thebes in 335 “Greeks were mercilessly slaughtered by Greeks” (Ἕλληνες γὰρ ὑφ᾽ Ἑλλήνων ἀνηλεῶς ἀνῃροῦντο, Diod. Sic. 17.13.6), and Antipater’s war with Agis III in 331 (Diod. Sic. 17.63.1). Furthermore, despite periodic Greek rebellion,15 the League of Corinth lasted until Alexander’s death. After Gaugamela, when the allies were dismissed with pay,16 many allied soldiers turned right around to rejoin the Macedonian army as mercenaries (Arr. Anab. 3.19.5–6). Diodorus (17.95.4) tells us that both allies and mercenaries (30,000 infantry and almost 6,000 cavalry) were brought from Greece to accompany Alexander on his journey down the Hydaspes in 326, which suggests that the poleis were either still obliged, or volunteered, to be brought in as necessary (in the latter case they could be considered virtual mercenaries). Diodorus makes an interesting contrast between these Greek imports, who brought 25,000 sets of “shining armor” (πανοπλίαι διαπρεπεῖς) with them, and the exhausted Macedonians, “most of whose armor was worn out” (τῶν δὲ ὅπλων τὰ πλεῖστα κατεξάνθαι, 17.94.2). If this is historical, it may prefigure Alexander’s training of Asian youths in Macedonian arms (the Epigonoi) in 327 as a kind of rival force to his own Macedonians (see below). 3

Balkan Foot-Soldiers in Philip and Alexander’s Armies

3.1 Evidence for Balkan Foot-Soldiers in Philip’s Army The League of Corinth was a uniquely formal means by which the Macedonians could obtain auxiliary troops. We have no such records for the Balkans (or Asia, 15 Most notably the revolts of a large number of Greek peoples such as the Acarnanians, Ambraciots, various Peloponnesians, and the Thessalians, on Philip’s death in 336 (Diod. Sic. 17.3–7); the revolt of Thebes on false rumor of Alexander’s death in 335 (Diod. Sic. 17.11.1–14.1; Arr. Anab. 1.7.1–1.9.3; Plut. Alex. 11; Just. Epit. 11.1.3–4); and the revolt of the Spartans under Agis in 331 (Diod. Sic. 17.62.4–63.3). 16 Diodorus (Diod. Sic. 17.74.3) and Curtius (6.2.17) both list the pay given to the Greek cavalry (a talent/6,000 denarii each) and foot-soldiers (ten minas/1,000 denarii each) on their dismissal by Alexander in 330 (Arr. Anab. 3.19.6–7; Plut. Alex. 42.5; Diod. Sic. 17.74.3–4; Curt. 6.2.17). See Meeus in this volume.

Infantry Allies and Subjects

207

for that matter). Philip used his diplomatic skills (including two marriages, to the daughter of Illyrian king Bardylis, Audata, and to the Thracian princess Meda) to gain alliances with various Balkan neighbors, who sometimes banded together to fight against the Macedonians (as, for example, when the Illyrians, Thracians, and Paeonians joined forces against Philip, Diod. Sic. 16.22.3). We do not know if Balkan forces were at the Battle of Chaeronea. Diodorus provides our single substantial extant description of this conflict, but at the end of his brief description of troop dispositions merely states that Philip “stationed various units as the occasion dictated” (τὰς κατὰ μέρος τάξεις οἰκείως τοῖς παροῦσι καιροῖς διεκόσμησεν, 16.86.1). It seems reasonable, nevertheless, to assume that some Balkan troops had been incorporated into Philip’s army by then; some, like the Agrianian peltasts, may have been incorporated even earlier.17 The force with which Philip fought and won his first battle, in 358, against the Illyrian king Bardylis, included 10,000 infantry (alongside 600 cavalry)—as Wrightson points out, a large number by the standards of the Greek polis. Balkan troops may have fought alongside conscripted Macedonian peasantry and Greek mercenaries.18 Evidence for (Non-Agrianian) Balkan Foot-Soldiers in Alexander’s Army Alexander’s Balkan forces first appear in the historical record at the Hellespont, in Diodorus’ detailed description of the crossing army (17.17.3–4). Among the 32,000 infantry troops (including the 12,000 Macedonians, 7,000 allies, and 5,000 mercenaries under Parmenion’s lead mentioned above) were 7,000 foot soldiers, combined, of Odrysians, Triballians, and Illyrians, in addition to 1,000 [Macedonian19 or Cretan mercenary] archers and “so-called” Agrianes (17.17.4). The Agrianes are exceptional figures in the Macedonian army, and will be treated separately below. Of the three Balkan soldier-types aside from the Agrianes listed by Diodorus—the Odrysians, Triballians, and Illyrians—only the Odrysians20 are specified as akontists in the Macedonian army, although this is somewhat hidden by Arrian’s use of ethnic terminology. Arrian men­ tions “Thracian” foot-soldiers at Gaugamela, led by a man with an Odrysian 3.2

17 Bosworth (1980a, 66) conjectures, for example, that the Agrianes were incorporated into Philip’s army through his conquest of the Paeonians in 358. 18 Wrightson (2019) 162. 19 The sole reference to specifically Macedonian archers is found in Arrian’s description of Alexander’s force at Gaugamela (3.12.2). 20 Odrysians appear frequently in classical literature, especially in reference to the myth of Orpheus and to the historical alliances between the kings and Athens. See Archibald (1998).

208

Asirvatham

name, Sitalces (3.12.4). It is easy to identify these Thracians under Sitalces as the same as Diodorus’ Odrysians at the Hellespont. Sitalces also appears earlier in the attack against Salagassus, as the leader of Thracian akontists (Arr. Anab. 1.28.4), which are evidently the same group. A similar thing happens, incidentally, with the cavalry: Arrian’s description of the dispositions at Gaugamela (3.12.4) includes Odrysian cavalry led by Agathon, son of Tyrimmas, but Agathon was earlier said to lead a group of “Thracian” cavalry at Granicus (1.14.4).21 Thus, for Arrian, Odrysian is a type of Thracian, which is in line with our general understanding that akontists were the native warrior-type of Thrace.22 Neither Triballians nor Illyrians are named in Macedonian army formations in any ancient narrative. They appear three times as a pair in Arrian, as a generalized barbarian threat to the Macedonians.23 But they also appear positively (relatively speaking) as part of the Macedonian army in one passage. In the rousing speech he delivers before Issus (2.7.5), Alexander compares his barbarians favorably to the Persian forces, reminding his men that the Thracians, Paeonians, Illyrians, and Agrianes are “the strongest and most warlike men in Europe” (τοὺς εὐρωστοτάτους τῶν κατὰ τὴν Εὐρώπην καὶ μαχιμωτάτους) who are about to face the “laziest and most effeminate races of Asia” (τὰ ἀπονώτατά τε καὶ μαλακώτατα τῆς Ἀσίας γένη). Something similar is repeated by Lucian in his Dialogue of the Dead 12, which verifies the trope-like character of Alexander’s words: in the underworld, Philip mocks his son for conquering effeminate Asians who had been conquered before, having earlier conquered never-before-conquered enemies like the Greeks and the “Triballians, Illyrians, and Paeonians.” Ancient sources do not always specify types of foot soldier, though we can perhaps construe from the Thracians that many Balkan foot soldiers were akontists, a type of peltast. Peltasts had long been familiar to the Greek world: 21 Bosworth (1980a). 22 Webber (2011); Stoyanov (2015) 436. 23 Once within Arrian’s narrative and twice in Alexander’s speeches. In describing Philip’s and Alexander’s struggles in the Balkans, Arrian mentions Alexander marching “towards Thrace into the lands of the Triballians and Illyrians” (Anab. 1.4.6), and in Anab. 1.10.3 he tells us that the Athenians sent to Macedon to praise Alexander’s suppression of the Triballians and Illyrians. The pairing also appears in Alexander’s much-discussed description of how Philip “civilized” the Macedonians in his speech at Opis (Arr. Anab. 7.9.2). In a fourth passage, Triballians and Illyrians appear with other non-Macedonians in a rhetorical context: Alexander encourages his reluctant troops to cross the Hyphasis by recalling to them the spirit with which they once fought the “Thracians, Triballian, Illyrians, and even Greeks hostile to our interests” (Arr. Anab. 5.26.6).

Infantry Allies and Subjects

209

they can be found in Athenian art as far back as the sixth century. Thracians were used by Greeks as highly maneuverable aids and complements to hoplite forces during the Peloponnesian War, and continued to be used increasingly as combined-arms forces became more popular.24 But there is also the possibility that some of these tribes were trained as hoplites and that they appeared in Philip’s and Alexander’s armies as such.25 Dionysius of Syracuse gave the formidable Illyrians, who had long terrorized the Macedonians before Philip’s reign,26 2,000 Greek mercenaries—plus 500 suits of hoplite armor for their own soldiers—to help them fight the Molossians,27 and Arrian indicates that the Illyrian rebel princes Cleitus and Glaucias, whom Alexander defeated in spring 335, had heavy-armed infantry (1.6.6). Like the Triballians, however, the Illyrians are not specifically named by any source as part of the Macedonian force on the actual battlefield or in any missions, so it is not always clear how Alexander (or Philip) used them. 3.3 Alexander’s Agrianes Just as the Thessalians have an exceptional presence in Alexander’s army as elite non-Macedonian cavalry, the Agrianian javelin-wielding peltasts (akontists) stand out as foreign infantry. These were elite light-armed skirmishers capable of lightning action, and they appear very frequently in Arrian’s narrative, usually under a named commander, from the beginning of the Anabasis through Book 6. Before the Asian campaign, they assist Alexander against the Thracians (1.1.12), Illyrians and Taulantians (1.5–1.6), and Thebans (1.8.3). Once in Asia, they play an important role both in set battles and in Alexander’s many dangerous detached campaigns. In either situation, they almost always appear alongside the archers and are very often used in combination with heavy cavalry and heavy infantry, hypaspists in particular. 24 Best (1969). For example, in 425 peltasts from Thrace and other northern allies of Athens helped capture 300 Spartans found on Sphacteria (Thuc. 4.32–38; see Sears (2015), 313). In 390, Iphicrates defeated a Spartan force using only Thracian peltasts (Xen. Hell. 4.5; see Konecny (2001) and Sears (2015) 312; 314). 25 An early source (Didymus, In Demosth. col. 13, lines 3–7) describes Philip’s leg injury at the hands of a Triballian was by means of a sarissa; as Markle (1978, 489–91) has pointed out, the Triballians following Philip’s horse with sarissas must have been on horse. There is nothing stopping us from thinking that Philip first gave the sarissa to the Macedonian cavalry before adopting it into the phalanx. 26 Diodorus tells us that, at the time of Philip’s ascension, the Macedonians were extremely frightened of the Illyrians (16.2.5). The fact that Alexander was fabled to have been born on the day Parmenion defeated them (Plut. Alex. 3.8; Just. Epit. 12.16.6) shows that the Illyrians remained legendary foes. 27 Diod. Sic. 15.13.2. See Cabanes (1988) 189; Wilkes (1992) 126.

210

Asirvatham

Bosworth suggests that Alexander was probably able to acquire new Agrianes locally, perhaps from Langurus, king of the Agrianes, who became good friends with Alexander during Philip’s lifetime and offered to fight off the Autariates to save Alexander the trouble, for which he received the greatest honors from Alexander (Arr. Anab. 1.5.2).28 Over the course of the four set battles highlighted by Arrian, the Agrianes’ special utility becomes increasingly clear. We see them stationed at Granicus (spring 334) under Philotas’ command in the front of the right wing alongside the archers and the Cavalry Companions (Arr. Anab. 1.14.1). At Issus (autumn 333), they are stationed under Attalus next to the archers under Antiochus, along with Greek mercenaries, to flesh out the thin phalanx on the right; during the battle, a few of them and some archers charge onto a mountain and rout the Persians stationed there (2.9.2). At Gaugamela (autumn 331), the Agrianes and the archers under Balacrus (the above-mentioned former commander of the Greek allied infantry) are used to attack Darius’ scythe-chariots (3.12.2; 3). At the Hydaspes, they take part in Alexander’s secret mission to stitch up bags of hay with which they could cross the river (5.12.2) before being posted alongside the archers on each extremity of the phalanx in the battle with Porus (5.13.4). Beyond these famous battles, Arrian shows that Alexander continually relied on the Agrianes along with other (usually light) forces and his Cavalry Companions for special missions. The Agrianes participated in the siege of Miletus (1.18.3); the abortive attack on Myndus (1.20.5); the attack on the Pisidians in Salagassus (1.28.4); warding off the guards at the Cilician Gates (2.4.3); and capturing the Tyrian triremes (2.19.6) and raiding Anti-Libanus (2.20.4). They accompanied Alexander on his journey towards the future location of Alexandria (3.1.4) and on his marches through the Persian Gates (3.18.2) and the Caspian Gates (3.20.1). They helped Alexander when he rushed off in pursuit of Bessus (3.21.8), and fended off attacking barbarians, guarding the rear of the entire force as they marched into Hyrcania (3.23.5). They participated in the attack on the Mardians (3.24.1) and went on forced marches to Artacoana against the Satibarzanes and the Areians (3.25.6). They helped Alexander pursue Spitamenes and Dataphernes in order to capture Bessus (3.29.7) and, later, helped pursue Spitamenes into Maracanda (4.6.3). They accompanied Alexander on his covert mission into the city of Cyropolis (4.3.2) and in his attack on the Scythians (4.4.6). They were on the march into western India (4.23.1) and battled against the Aspasians (4.24.1) 28 Bosworth (1980a) 72. Diodorus lists a force of only 1,000 archers and Agrianes at the Hellespont, but the number Arrian gives for the force of archers and Agrianes Alexander used against Cleitus and Glaucias is 2,000.

Infantry Allies and Subjects

211

and the Assacenians and Guraeans (4.25.6). They took part in the attack on Massaga (4.26.4); they marched towards Aornus (4.28.8) and helped initiate the climb (4.29.1). They were on the reconnaissance mission that took place as Alexander’s army reached the Indus (4.30.6). They assisted in the takeover of the Gausians (5.20.3) and in battle with the Cathaeans (5.22.6; 5.23.7). They went with Alexander on his journey down the Hydaspes (6.2.2) and on the night march toward the Mallians (6.6.1), as well as on the detached mission with Perdiccas to guard another Mallian city (6.6.4). They followed the cavalry in attacking a force of 50,000 Indians at the Hydroates (6.8.7). They rejoined Alexander on his river journey and helped attack a ruler named Oxicanos (6.16.1); when Alexander split the army into three at the Indus valley, they were led by Peithon on one side of the river (6.17.4). The last mention of the Agrianes is at the edge of the Gedrosian desert, where Alexander left them along with archers and other troops under the command of Leonnatus the Bodyguard, with Apollonius, who he appointed satrap of the Oroi (6.22.1, 3). Agrianes appear nowhere in Plutarch’s corpus, nor in Justin, nor in Diodorus beyond his description in 17.17 of Alexander’s force at the Hellespont (their confused appearance in Curtius is addressed below). The constant presence of the Agrianes in Arrian’s narrative is partly a function of Arrian’s focus on the heroism of his new Achilles and the latter’s propensity to use select troops for risky side-missions. The specificity of the detail (including their positions and commanders’ names), however, makes it difficult to doubt their overall importance to Alexander’s successes. Their reputation endured: the second-century CE author Appian, for example, notes that the present-day Paeonians “are famous from the Macedonians—because of the Agrianes, who accomplished very great things for Philip and Alexander, and are Paeonians from Lower Pannonia, right next to the Illyrians” (ἔνδοξοι … εἰσὶν ἐκ Μακεδόνων δι᾽ Ἀγριᾶνας, οἳ τὰ μέγιστα Φιλίππῳ καὶ Ἀλεξάνδρῳ κατεργασάμενοι Παίονές εἰσι τῶν κάτω Παιόνων, Ἰλλυριοῖς ἔποικοι, Illyria 3.14). Appian’s labeling of the Agrianes as Paeonians is worth noting here, as there is little agreement on what ethnicity the Agrianes were. They are variably called Thracian or Paeonian, with Paeonians sometimes considered a type of Thracian. Arrian’s claim in Book 1.5.1 that Alexander went into “the land of the Agrianes and the Paeonians” clears nothing up, although his statement that Alexander used the Agrianes against “Thracians” (1.1.12) implies that he does not consider the Agrianes to be Thracian. Curtius (8.14.24) implies that the Agrianes are Thracians, an identification we see in Strabo and perhaps elsewhere.29 But 29

In Dio Chrysostom 4.8, Alexander observes that unlike Diogenes the Cynic, a man with complete freedom to go wherever he wished, he was unable to go anywhere without his Thessalians, Thracians (Agrianes), and Paeonians (light cavalry scouts)—that is, his

212

Asirvatham

Curtius’ presentation of their identity and function is inconsistent. For example, he uses “Agrianian” twice to refer to “cavalry” at Arbela (4.15.21; 4.15.22), which suggests that he is mistaking them for the Odrysian cavalry. He also refers to the Agrianes as “archers” (5.3.3) under the command of Tauron (5.3.6). (Tauron is the man whom Arrian names as the commander of the archers, Anab. 5.14.1). If Pausanias’ claim that Paeon was brother of the eponymous ancestors of Epeia on Elis and Aetolia (Paus. 5.1.5) was well-known, it is possible that some who viewed Agrianes as Paeonians thought this made them “Greek” (perhaps analogously to the way in which Herodotus and Isocrates argued for the Argive origins of the Macedonian kings). Even if Philip and Alexander were aware of this potential Greek lineage, however, the Agrianes are unlikely to have been construed in any way as Greek allies; not only were they not polis-dwellers like the other members of the League of Corinth, but, as we saw above, it is likely that Philip’s relationship with them long predated the league’s establishment. A final note about the Agrianes. It is not clear why Diodorus (17.17.4) refers to the Agrianes as the “so-called” (καλούμενοι) Agrianes. Perhaps it is meant to indicate that, by Alexander’s time, not all akontists were native Agrianes, and that the ethnic could be used of non-ethnic Agrianes who fought as akontists. As noted above in reference to the Odrysian infantry as “Thracian akontists” (1.28.4), Thrace was generally known for this type of fighter. 3.4 Allies, Subjects … or Mercenaries? It is difficult to know how to categorize non-Agrianian Balkan troops, as we have no record of these being acquired through alliances. Diodorus mentions Philip’s peace with the Illyrians without mentioning the offering of troops (16.4.3; 16.8.1). At 17.113.1–2, Diodorus gives a long list of peoples from Asia, Europe, and Libya—among whom are the Illyrians and the Thracians—who came on various missions to Alexander, and indicates that some of these envoys wished to conclude alliances with the Macedonians. But one cannot tell who they are from the context of the passage. It is worth noting, in any case, that Balkan peoples are never referred to as σύμμαχοι (not even Agrianes): this is a word Alexander-sources uses almost exclusively of Greeks.30 Diodorus, in fact, draws an explicit contrast between Philip’s treatment of the Illyrians and his treatment of the Thessalians: from the former he took booty, the other

30

Thessalian horsemen, his Thracian (Agrianian) peltasts, and his Paeonian light cavalry scouts. See Wrightson (2019) 187. An exception is Taxiles, with whom Arrian says Alexander had a συμμαχία (Anab. 5.3.6). See below.

Infantry Allies and Subjects

213

he treated as allies (Diod. Sic. 16.69.7). It is clear, however, that he employed at least one foreign infantry commander, Sitalces, the leader of the Odrysians (Arr. Anab. 3.12.4). This Sitacles, however, may have had the status of a hostage: he was presumably one of the “kings and officials” (reges et praefecti) Frontinus (2.11.3) tells us Alexander had taken “as though conferring an honor (velut honoris causa)” at Issus (Justin calls them reges stipendarii, or “tributary kings,” Epit. 11.5.3). It is probably reasonable to suppose that most Balkan troops were either volunteers or mercenaries31 from subject lands rather than conscripts. We hear nothing specific about them after Gaugamela (and as we have seen, there the references are vague, with even Sitalces’ Odrysians mentioned in the dispositions but not the action). Only hints remain in the record of their afterlife in the Macedonian army. A fragment from Deixippus, for example, suggests that by the time Alexander died, the Triballians (who were the first to revolt when Philip died)32 joined Antipater’s army.33 Livy also mentions the Illyrians, as well as the Agrianes, as part of Philip V’s and Perseus’ forces (33.18.8; 14; 44.11.7). The Agrianes are depicted as nothing but loyal allies upon whose talents Alexander relies. There is nothing resembling the coercion of the Greeks that was inherent in the League of Corinth and made obvious by their penchant for rebellion. We do not know anything about the relationship between Philip and the Agrianes prior to Langurus, but we can presume the Agrianes were swept up with the rest of the Paeonians when Philip conquered their country in 358 on the death of their king Agis (Diod. Sic. 1.5.2).34 However they entered the army, in his many mentions of the Agrianes, Arrian gives no indication of conflict during Philip’s and Alexander’s reigns. 4

Asians in Alexander’s Army

4.1 Evidence for Asian Foot-Soldiers in Alexander’s Army The first Asian soldiers to be adopted into the Macedonian army were probably cavalry,35 but foot-soldiers were not far behind. Curtius points to the inclusion 31 Delev (2015) 52. 32 A rebellion Alexander was obliged to put down by defeating their king Syrmos in 334 (Arr. Anab. 1.1.12–2.7; Plut. Alex. 11.5–6). 33 Xydopoulos (2020) 512–13. 34 Bosworth (1980a) 66. 35 Brunt (1976, lxxiv) gives the consensus view that Asian cavalry must have been incorporated far earlier than 324 for which year they are first attested, when the Macedonians are said to have been aggrieved at the presence of Bactrian, Sogdianian, Arachotian,

214

Asirvatham

of 2,600 Lydians (Curt. 6.6.36) and 4,000 Lycians and Syrians (Curt. 7.10.11) as far back as 330 and 320, respectively.36 Arrian mentions Indian forces led by Taxiles (Arr Anab. 5.8.5) and by Porus (Arr. Anab. 5.24.4) of 5,000 each (whether horse or foot is unspecified; perhaps we should presume a mix). Curtius (8.5.4) gives the very large number of 120,000 infantry for the Indian campaign, which would suggest (improbably, as Brunt points out) that Alexander’s infantry force was at this point two-thirds Asian.37 Whatever the actual numbers were, it seems likely that Alexander brought non-Macedonians into the force as needed.38 (There is no evidence of Macedonian reinforcements after 324, when Alexander sent around 10,000 veterans packing with Craterus after Opis (Arr. Anab. 7.12.1)). Arrian indicates that Persians were enrolled in the phalanx (although not in Macedonian armor: see below) as late as Alexander’s last days in Babylon, when Philoxenus arrived with troops from Caria and Menander with troops from Lydia (7.23.1–3). The most famous moment in the history of Alexander’s deployment of non-Macedonians (of any ethnicity) took place in 327, when Alexander ordered 30,000 Asian youths, whom Arrian tells us Alexander called the Epigonoi (Ἐπίγονοι: “Successors”), to be trained in Macedonian style. Diodorus says they were installed as a counterbalance (ἀντίταγμα) to the Macedonians, whom he characterized as having rebelled at the “Ganges” (what Diodorus called the Hyphasis), behaved badly at the assembly, and mocked Alexander’s claim to be the son of Zeus (17.108). The word ἀντίταγμα is not always used in an oppositional way, but Bosworth muses: “When applied to Alexander’s Epigonoi the word has a sinister ring. Alexander intended the Persians not only to balance his Macedonian forces but also to be thrown against them if necessary.”39 Arrian postpones mention of the Epigonoi to his discussion of the revolt at Opis (7.6.1) in 324, when they are installed, but things seem to have been set in motion by 327. Plutarch (Alex. 47.3) places the 30,000 youths within his

36 37 38

39

Zarangian, Areian, and Parthian cavalrymen and the Persian “Euacae” in the Companion Cavalry (Arr. Anab. 7.6.3; repeated more generally at 8.2). Curtius 6.6.35 tells us that as far back as 330 Alexander acquired 300 Lydian light cavalry. Anson (2021) 182. Brunt (1976) 530–31. Closer to reality perhaps is Nearchus’ (Arr. Ind. 19.5) number of 120,000 troops total at the Hydaspes (326) including an unspecified number from the sea-coast (ἀπὸ θαλάσσης), i.e., Asians. Bosworth (1980b), 19. See also Engels’ calculations (1978, 150–51): Diodorus (17.95.4) cites 30,000 Indian infantry reinforcements at the Hydaspes against Curtius’ 7,000 Greek reinforcements (9.3.21). Bosworth also notes that the holding army which Curtius says Alexander planned to leave behind in Asia after Opis, and which consisted of the relatively high number of 13,000 infantry and 2,000 cavalry, likely included non-Macedonians. Bosworth (1980b) 17.

Infantry Allies and Subjects

215

narrative of the events of 327 (when Alexander marries Roxane) including the rosy detail that Alexander “had them educated in the Greek language” (ἐκέλευσε γράμματά … μανθάνειν Ἑλληνικὰ)40 and that this was all for the purpose of mixing barbarian and Greek practice “through community by good will rather than by force” (κοινωνίᾳ μᾶλλον δι᾽ εὐνοίας … ἢ βίᾳ). Curtius (8.5.1) has an entirely different rationale for the importation of 30,000 boys culled from all the provinces—they were to be held as hostages (against the Persians) and soldiers (obsides … et milites). Finally, Justin makes reference to another group of Epigonoi: the offspring of the Macedonian soldiery and Asian wives who, just like the Persian Epigonoi, he had trained in Macedonian warfare. This was a way of encouraging his disgruntled Macedonians to stay with his campaign and to create a force of youths that were loyal to him (12.4.5–6).41 Whether we take Justin’s Epigonoi as evidence for a historical second group of mixed offspring (as does, for example, Bosworth)42 or believe that Justin has mistaken the Persian Epigonoi for the progeny of the Susa marriages (as does, for example, Develin),43 the literary sources always (with the exception of Curtius) place the training of the Epigonoi within the context of the Macedonian soldiers’ dissatisfaction with Alexander behavior and expectations. As such, the episode routinely arises, alongside the marriages at Susa, in scholarly discussions about Alexander’s aims. Most notorious is its use as evidence for Alexander’s so-called policy of fusion between Macedonians and Persians, an idea clearly influenced by Plutarch and propagated by J. G. Droysen, and which would in turn permeate the German historiographical tradition and eventually find a medium of transmission to Anglophone audiences in W. W. Tarn.44 Bosworth’s breakthrough article from 1980 “Alexander and the Iranians” has largely put an end (in scholarship if not in the popular imagination) to the idea that Alexander aimed to create a Macedonian-Persian elite;45 Alexander’s motivation for the Susa marriages and the creation of the Epigonoi tend to be seen today in terms of practical politics rather than ideology.46 40

As a vast bibliography on Plutarch has demonstrated, for him the possession of paideia is the ultimate marker of “Greekness” (Swain 1990 is a classic starting point). In the context of Alexander’s growing decadence in the Life, however, the idea that the Macedonian king can make barbarians into Greeks takes on the tinge of irony. 41 Anson (2021). 42 Bosworth (1980b), 18. 43 In his note loc. cit. in Yardley 1994 (111 n. 10). 44 For bibliography see Bosworth (1980b), 1 and nn. 1–7. 45 However, Baynham (2022), who along with Pat Wheatley has taken on the task of completing the long-awaited third volume of Bosworth’s monumental commentary on the Anbasis, makes minor modifications to the latter’s 1980 view of the Susa marriages. 46 Most recently see Anson (2021).

216

Asirvatham

4.2 Allies or Subjects (or, Again, Mercenaries)? The clearest indication of Asian troops being acquired through alliance is through the forces brought to Alexander by Indian princes: 5,000 from Taxiles (Arr. Anab. 5.8.5) and 5,000 from Porus (Anab. 5.24.4), the latter of whom sources say Alexander especially admired. Again, however, we do not know the composition of these troops. The young Epigonoi can be seen as either the sons of allies or subjects; Curtius’ indication that they may have been obsides of Alexander taken from elite Asian families suggests that their status lies (in a different way from that of the Greeks) in a gray area between ally and subject. As is the case with Greek and Balkan “allies” as well, we cannot know what proportion of the Asian soldiers Alexander used to fill out his army after Opis would have been offered by locals as allies; required of them as subjects; or hired as mercenaries. 5

Conclusion

The information we receive about most non-Macedonian infantry—whether Greek, Balkan, or Asian—is overall quite vague, which makes the presence of the Agrianes and the Epigonoi stand out. The Agrianes appear primarily (and everywhere) in Arrian’s Anabasis, as an indispensable aid to Alexander in his conquest of Asia, and, before that, the Balkans. The Epigonoi, on the other hand, appear in all our main sources (Diodorus, Curtius, Justin, Plutarch, and Arrian), but do not appear in any battles (despite Diodorus’ indication that their intended function was as an ἀντίταγμα to the Macedonians). Whether they are presented as Persian youths or mixed Macedonian-Persian offspring, the training of the Epigonoi is presented as part of Alexander’s attempt to control his court—the recalcitrant Macedonians, in particular—and, for Justin, at least, a way to guard the future of his empire. The relative prominence in our sources of the Agrianes and Epigonoi among non-Macedonian infantry is, of course, at least partly a function of our Roman writers’ priorities. Arrian’s work is primarily a war-narrative, so his presentation of Alexander as a man prone to daring missions necessarily brings the Agrianes to the fore of the action alongside other mobile forces. The Epigonoi, on the other hand, almost always appear as part of the difficult-to-avoid story of Alexander’s conflict with his Macedonians. But there is no real reason to doubt the historical importance of either the Agrianes or the Epigonoi. While the Agrianes only appear substantially in Arrian, he has no obvious motivation to misrepresent them, especially as they are so often joined by other forces (whose relative—but not perfect—predictability suggests a degree

Infantry Allies and Subjects

217

of verisimilitude). The Epigonoi may lie in a grayer area, as we can imagine Roman worries about barbarism may leak into their depiction of Macedonian worries, but the fact that Alexander wanted to keep with him the children produced by Macedonian-Asian intermarriage suggests a longer-term reliance on youths trained in Macedonian warfare. But these still may be the only non-Macedonians trained in Macedonian warfare before Alexander’s death. We can contrast the Epigonoi with the mixed force of Macedonians and Persians that Alexander created right before his death, when Peucestas came to Bablyon from Persia with 20,000 Persians and some members of two extra-warlike tribes, the Cossaeans and Tapurians (Anab. 7.23.1–4; it was at this time that Philoxenus and Menander arrived with their respective troops from Caria and Lydia). Alexander set up decads each consisting of twelve Persians and four Macedonians. In each decad, twelve Persians were sandwiched between a Macedonian decadarch along with a second Macedonian on double pay and a third Macedonian, a “ten-stater man” on extra pay (less than double but more than what a normal soldier would get) in the front, and a single Macedonian, also a “ten-stater man,” in the back. Unlike the Epigonoi, however, the Persians were not trained as Macedonians but simply incorporated along with their native style: “The Macedonians were equipped with their regular arms, and the Persians were either archers or given thonged javelins” (τοὺς μὲν Μακεδόνας τὴν πάτριον ὅπλισιν ὡπλισμένους, τοὺς δὲ Πέρσας τοὺς μὲν τοξότας, τοὺς δὲ καὶ μεσάγκυλα ἔχοντας, Anab. 7.23.4). The prominence of the Epigonoi in Alexander-narrative, then, is not simply a function of their role in the drama between Alexander and the Macedonians; as foreigners dressed in Macedonian armor, they are a unique entity with a unique designation, at least until we reach the period of the Successors, when the ethnic “Macedonian” was regularly used for non-ethnic Macedonians fighting in the Macedonian style. There is, however, one important thing that the Agrianes and the Epigonoi have in common. We have considered throughout how we should think of the various non-Macedonian infantrymen, at least those who do not seem to have been mercenaries: were they allies or (unwilling) subjects? In the case of the Greeks, there cannot have been much of a difference: brought to heel at the Battle of Chaeronea, a formal league alliance with the enemy was clearly a form of subjection (the analogy with the Delian league has its limits: in that case, an alliance that poleis had originally opted to join become a compulsion after that fact). But as we saw above, the League continued to last, and not all Greeks who joined Alexander’s force after Gaugamela were mercenaries. As for the Balkan and Asian soldiers: it is not always easy to tell who was a mercenary and who was not, but Arrian’s labeling of Alexander’s relationship with Taxiles as a συμμαχία (5.3.6) suggests that there could have been a number of alliances

218

Asirvatham

in other situations of more straightforward subjugation. Μισθοφόροι, at any rate, seems to refer only to Greeks in the Alexander-sources (see Landucci in this volume). The Agrianes and the Epigonoi, on the other hand, can both be seen as “allies” in the sense that they were to be fully loyal to Alexander (Agrianes) or were actually created as force loyal to Alexander (the Epigonoi). I remain intrigued by Alexander’s decision to release the Agrianes at the edge of the Gedrosian desert to help control a satrapy under new management, a move that spared them from crossing the Gedrosian desert alongside his suffering Macedonians. It is probably a reach to see this as an admission of defeat—that Alexander no longer needed his crack javelin-force—as he could easily have recruited more. But if we believe that Alexander’s death march across the Gedrosian was partly motivated by his desire to punish the Macedonians for their revolt (as opposed to the reasons given by Arrian: that he wanted to outdo Cyrus and Semiramis and to provision the fleet with Nearchus sailing nearby, 6.24.4),47 I wonder if we might interpret this as at least partly an act of grace towards loyal subjects, or an act of favoritism that is vaguely parallel to Alexander’s creation of the Epigonoi, which had happened two years earlier. Alexander had by this time already displayed in dramatic fashion his capacity to punish “bad” behavior and reward “good” as it suited him strategically, ideologically, or emotionally. Works Cited Anson, E. (2021) “The Father of the Army: Alexander and the Epigoni,” in D’Agostini et al. (2021) 227–42. Archibald, Z. (1998) The Odrysian Kingdom of Thrace: Orpheus Unmasked. Oxford. Baynham, E. (2022) “Bosworth on Alexander and the Iranians Revisited: Alexander’s Marriages to Persian Brides at Susa: A Study of Arrian, Anabasis 7.4.4–8,” in Pownall et al. (2022) 149–68. Best, J. G. P. (1969) Thracian Peltasts and Their Influence on Greek Warfare. Groningen. Bosworth, A. B. (1980a) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander, Vol. 1. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1980b) “Alexander and the Iranians.” JHS 100: 1–21. Brunt, P. A. (1976) History of Alexander and Indica I. Cambridge, MA. Cabanes, P. (1988) Les illyriens, de Bardylis à Genthios : IVe–IIe siècles avant J.C. Paris. Campbell, B. and Tritle, L. (eds) (2013) The Oxford Handbook of Warfare in the Classical World. Oxford. D’Agostini, M., Anson, E., and Pownall, F. (eds) (2020) Affective Relations and Personal Bonds in Hellenistic Antiquity: Studies in Honor of Elizabeth D. Carney. Oxford. 47

See Brice in this volume, rejecting punishment.

Infantry Allies and Subjects

219

Delev, P. (2015) “Thrace from the Assassination of Kotys I to Koroupedion (360– 281 BCE),” in Valeva et al. (2015) 48–58. Engels, D. (1978) Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army. Berkeley. Graninger, D. (2010) “Macedonia and Thessaly,” in Roisman and Worthingon (2010) 306–25. Heckel, W. (2006) Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander. Malden, MA. Heckel, W. (2013) “The Three Thousand: Alexander’s Infantry Guard,” in Campbell and Tritle (2013) 162–78. Konecny, A. (2001) “Κατέκοψεν τὴν μόραν Ἰφικράτης: Das Gefecht bei Lechaion im Frühsommer 390 v. Chr.” Chiron 31: 79–127. Markle, M. (1978) “Use of the Sarissa by Philip and Alexander of Macedon.” AJA 82.4: 483–97. Pownall, F., Asirvatham, S., and Müller, S. (eds) (2022) The Courts of Philip II and Alexander the Great: Monarchy and Power in Ancient Macedonia. Berlin. Roisman, J. and Worthingon, I. (eds) (2010) A Companion to Ancient Macedonia. Malden, MA. Sears, M. (2015) “Athens,” in Valeva et al. (2015) 312–14. Stoyanov, T. (2015) “Warfare,” in Valeva et al. (2015) 426–42. Swain, S. (1990) “Hellenic Culture and the Roman Heroes of Plutarch.” JHS 110: 126–45. Valeva, J., Nankov, E., and Graninger, D. (eds) (2015) A Companion to Ancient Thrace. Hoboken, NJ. Webber, C. (2011) The Gods of Battle: The Thracians at War 1500 BC–150 AD. Barnsley, UK. Wilkes, J. (1992) The Illyrians. Cambridge, MA. Worthington, I. (2008) Philip II of Macedonia. New Haven, CT. Wrightson, G. (2019) Combined Arms Warfare in Ancient Greece: From Homer to Alexander the Great and His Successors. London. Xydopoulos, I. (2020) “Triballians,” in LAM: 512–13. Yardley, J. C. (trans) (1994) Justin: Epitome of the Philippic History of Pompeius Trogus. With introduction and explanatory notes by R. Develin. Atlanta, GA.

Part 3 Organization and Structure

∵

Chapter 10

Commanders and Command Structure in Alexander’s Army Waldemar Heckel 1

Introduction

The following study of Alexander’s army highlights the organization of the various units of cavalry and infantry, giving special attention to the composition of the individual units (including the subdivisions within them) in terms of the social status of the fighters, the areas of recruitment, their numbers, and the identity of their commanders. Not all troops were territorial levies and not all commanders were promoted on the basis of meritorious service. Some taxeis and ilai fought under the immediate command of the king—though they were led by aristocratic commanders (e.g., the royal squadron under Black Kleitos, the somatophylakes basilikoi led by Seleukos son of Antiochos)—and were designated “the king’s own” (basilikos -oi or basilike, basilikon and so forth). Others received the honorific term of Companions (hetairoi, hetairike) even though the troops themselves were not members of the aristocratic group of hetairoi or Companions; the latter served, for the most part, in the Companion Cavalry or as commanders of infantry. Attention is given also to units from regions within the Macedonian political orbit (e.g., Thracians, Agrianes, and Thessalians) as well as to those recruited by member states of the League of Korinth, of which Alexander was the military leader or hegemon.1 Mercenaries have been discussed at length by other scholars and receive only cursory treatment here.2 Finally, Asian troops were added to the army as the conquest moved eastward. Where possible, the discussion includes the origins of various units, terminology and weaponry—although the last is not the primary focus of this chapter.

1 On allies and subjects see the chapter by Asirvatham in this volume. 2 Park (1933); Griffith (1935); Trundle (2004). See also the chapter by Landucci in this volume.

© Waldemar Heckel, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_012

224 2

Heckel

Commanders of the Cavalry

2.1 Macedonian Cavalry Even after the introduction of the sarissa-bearing infantry revolutionized warfare and transformed Macedon into the leading military power in the Greek world, the cavalry remained the striking force par excellence. Our most enduring image of Alexander in battle is his daring—some would say reckless—charges into the enemy ranks at the head of his Companion cavalry, surrounded by his Royal Squadron (ile basilike). The Macedonian phalanx, the so-called “Foot Companions” (pezhetairoi) formed the backbone of the army—in battle they were regularly the proverbial anvil for the cavalry hammer—but the pre-eminence of the horsemen both militarily and socially remained a constant. The Companions (οἱ ἑταῖροι, ἡ ἵππος ἡ ἑταιρική, or οἱ ἱππεῖς οἱ ἑταῖροι) comprised seven squadrons (or ilai) and a select ile basilike, which formed the king’s cavalry guard.3 These were recruited by region, each ile led, in all likelihood, by an ilarches from the same area. Since the ilarchs were, relatively speaking, lower-ranking officers, we known very little about their personal backgrounds. Indeed, during Alexander’s reign, only Demetrios son of Althaimenes (no. 357) advanced from the rank of ilarch to hipparch, and even he is, for the most part, an enigma. Even if he can be identified as a cousin of Hephaistion (no. 513),4 this is of no help in determining his birthplace or place of residence, since we do not know the regional origins of Hephaistion himself. Nevertheless, it is improbable that these territorial troops were not led by one of their own. The regional breakdown of the Companions, as far as the evidence will allow us to determine was: two ilai from the coastal areas (Bottiaia; Amphipolis); two from Chalkidike (Anthemos, Apollonia); one of uncertain origin (Leugaia); two unknown. Berve believes that the core of the Macedonian aristocracy remained at home with Antipatros (no. 127).5 The

3 Arr. Anab. 3.11.8 provides the only complete list of ilarchs. 4 Thus Heckel (1991); cf. Heckel (1992) 345–46. See IG II2 405. References to numbered names are from Heckel (2021). 5 Berve (1926, 1.105) comments on “die auch politisch hochbedeutsame Tatsache, daß Al. zunächst nur die Hälfte des Reiteraufgebotes, und zwar im wesentlichen die Kontigente der Küstenländer auf seinen Zug mitnahm, während die Adelsreiterei Altmakedoniens unter Antipatros’ Kommando zurückblieb.” And he continues: “Nur so ist es überhaupt verständlich, daß keiner der uns für Gaugamela sämtlich bekannten Führer landschaftlicher Ilen sonst irgendwie hervortritt, daß keiner der großen makedonischen Feldherrn aus der Hetairenreiterei hervorgegangen ist, endlich, daß die nationalmakedonische Opposition nicht, wie man erwarten sollte, bei dem berittenen Adel, sondern durchaus beim Fußvolk lag.”

Commanders and Command Structure in Alexander ’ s Army

225

Companions transported to Asia in 334 BCE numbered 1,800.6 The exact nominal strength of an ile is not specified, nor is it certain that all ilai were of equal strength. But, if the latter is the case, then each squadron appears to have comprised of 225 riders (8 × 225 = 1,800). At any rate, we shall not be far off the mark if we accept J. F. C. Fuller’s estimate that “each ile numbered from 200 to 300 horsemen.”7 The commander of the Companions, from at least 334 until 330, was Philotas son of Parmenion (no. 940). His official title was probably hipparches (or hipparchos). A reference to a hipparchy as a subset of the Companions as a whole (Arr. Anab. 1.24.3) is clearly an anachronism and probably refers to an ile (or possibly a few).8 Arrian (Anab. 3.27.4) explicitly remarks that after Philotas’ death, Alexander placed the Companions under the command of two hipparchs, Kleitos son of Dropidas (no. 595) and Hephaistion (Ἀλέξανδρος δέ, καταστήσας ἐπὶ τοὺς ἑταίρους ἱππάρχας δύο, Ἡφαιστίωνά τε τὸν Ἀμύντορος καὶ Κλεῖτον τὸν Δρωπίδου, καὶ δίχα διελὼν τὴν τάξιν τῶν ἑταίρων). Below the hipparch were the ilarchs. The only complete list of these officers comes from Arrian’s account of Gaugamela (3.11.8): Kleitos son of Dropides, Glaukias (no. 471), Ariston (no. 198), Sopolis son of Hermodoros (no. 1062), Herakleides son of Antiochos (no. 515), Demetrios son of Althaimenes, Meleagros (no. 696), and Hegelochos son of Hippostratos (no. 496). One of these ilarchs has replaced Sokrates son of Sathon (no. 1055), who commanded the horse from Apollonia at the Granikos River (Arr. Anab. 1.12.7, 14.1). Amyntas son of Arrhabaios (no. 78) commanded a further four ilai of prodromoi (Arr. Anab. 1.12.7) and in the actual battle he led the sarissophoroi hippoi and the Paionians.9 This raises the question of whether the sarissophoroi are prodromoi, or whether the latter are the Paionians. Aretis (no. 172), who appears in the battle of the Granikos, was probably not a commander but a member of the ile basilike, serving also as the king’s anaboleus (Arr. Anab. 1.15.6); he may, however, have risen to the rank of ilarch by time of the battle of Gaugamela three years later (assuming that he is identical with Aretes no. 171). The prodromoi 6 Diod. Sic. 17.17.4. Rzepka (2012) believes that the original number of Cavalry Companions in the army of Philip II was 1,800. Against this view see Heckel (2016) 261 n. 4. All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE. 7 Fuller (1958) 49. 8 Arrian (Anab. 1.24.3) says that in 334/3 a hipparchy of the Companions was left with Parmenion. This probably refers to an ile or perhaps a few ilai; see Bosworth (1980a) 155; Brunt (1963) 29; Griffith (1963) 70. 9 Amyntas was clearly not an ilarch himself. His title is unknown, but Arr. Anab. 1.12.7 applies to him the general term hegemon. The four squadrons of prodromoi will each have had their own ilarch, but the names of these are not preserved.

226

Heckel

at Issos (Arr. Anab. 3.9.2) are led by Protomachοs (no. 1001)—presumably replacing Amyntas son of Arrhabaios—and the Paionians are led by Ariston (no.  198), hence the likelihood that the prodromoi are the sarissophoroi and distinct from the Paionians. Two other ilarchs are named at Issos: Pantordanos (no. 846), in charge of the Leugaian ile, and Peroidas (no. 878), leading those from Anthemos. This basic organization (with some changes in the leadership of the ilai) appears to have remained constant until the arrival of reinforcements in late 331. But, even at that point, we do not know how the new levies impacted the overall structure. Arrian (3.16.11) says that Alexander created two lochoi in each ile, which suggests that the strength of each ile increased. Unfortunately, we do not know the size of a lochos, either as a new cavalry unit or in the infantry, where the rank of lochagos had previously existed.10 The new lochoi appear to have been subdivided into two tetrarchies (two per lochos and, as the name implies, four per squadron; cf. Arrian (Anab. 3.18.5), where a tetrarchy is attested at the Persian Gates). The Companions and the prodromoi received a supplement of 1,100 men, which (after campaign losses and attrition due to illness) represents roughly a 33% increase. The Macedonians and the mounted lancers may now have totaled about 3,500–3,600. When Kleitos and Hephaistion replaced Philotas in late 330, the entire Macedonian cavalry force was divided equally between the two men: each hipparch commanded four ilarchs (and thus also eight lochagoi) of the regular Companions, and two ilarchs of prodromoi. Kleitos’ death in 328 necessitated further changes in the command structure. At the beginning of the campaign of 328, Alexander left most of the pezhetairoi in Baktria—the battalions of Polyperchon (no. 983), Attalos (no. 265), Gorgias (no. 481) and Meleagros (no. 695)—and divided the army he led across the Oxos into five units led by Hephaistion, Ptolemy (no. 1010), Perdikkas (no. 871), Koinos (no. 610), and the king himself. Each of these units must have had a cavalry component, and we may assume that Kleitos, who is conspicuously absent, was the commander of the cavalry that accompanied Alexander; for he had previously been the leader of the king’s personal guard (the ile basilike). This was probably a prelude to the further division of the Companions, who after the death of Kleitos were led by at least five hipparchs: Hephaistion, Perdikkas, Koinos, Krateros (no. 622), and Demetrios son of Althaimenes.

10 Bosworth (1980a) 320–21.

Commanders and Command Structure in Alexander ’ s Army

227

2.2 Thessalian, Allied, and Mercenary Cavalry The most important, and effective, contingent of allied troops was that supplied by the Thessalians.11 Numbering 1,800, they were regularly stationed on the left wing in major battles and fell under the general command of Parmenion (no. 848).12 In all likelihood, their organization mirrored that of the Companions; for it is reasonable to assume that the Macedonian cavalry—in both organization and tactics—was modeled on that of their Thessalian neighbors. Certainly, they played a role on the left wing that corresponded to that of the Companions on the right. Diodorus (17.21.4, 60.8) mentions Thessalian ilai (eilai), though without indicating how many such squadrons there were. Perhaps, like the Companions, they comprised eight ilai, one of which formed Parmenion’s guard, resembling the ile basilike and commanded, it seems, by Polydamas (no. 974). We do not know, however, whether Polydamas himself was Thessalian and thus a regional commander, a Thessalian who had been enrolled in the ranks of the king’s hetairoi, or a Macedonian leader of foreign troops (Arr. Anab. 3.11.10; cf. Curt. 4.15.6–7). One argument against the view that he was the aristocratic leader of territorial troops is the fact that he remained with Alexander until 324, when he accompanied Krateros and some 10,000 veterans’ home from Sousa. The Thessalian cavalry itself had been disbanded in 330 and sent to the coast without their horses, though some remained as mercenaries.13 Polydamas thus appears to have had a closer bond with Alexander than with the horsemen he commanded.14 Apart from Polydamas, not a single Thessalian ilarch is known by name, unless Ariston of Pharsalos can be identified as an ilarch. Two hundred additional Thessalians joined Alexander at Gordion, but it is uncertain whether these formed a ninth ile or merely reinforced or brought up to strength the existing ilai (Arr. Anab. 1.29.4). During their five years of service in Asia with Alexander, they were commanded in succession by Kalas son of Harpalos (no. 559) and Alexandros the Lynkestian (no. 45), both in 334, and then by Philip son of Menelaos (no. 907) from 334/3 to 330. They formed a distinct unit, separate from the rest of the allied 11 On Thessalians and other allies see the chapter by Asirvatham in this volume. 12 Diod. Sic. 17.17.4. For a full discussion of the Thessalians and their cavalry see Strootman (2012) and the chapter by Willekes in this volume. 13 Arr. Anab. 3.19.5–6. They were dismissed at Ekbatana, before the death of Dareios. Arrian says that many (οὐκ ὀλίγοι) agreed to remain as mercenaries. Those who chose to return home sold their horses and were escorted to the coast by Epikillos and a cavalry escort. 14 He is described as a friend of Parmenion, and this friendship may be the result of lengthy service in the Macedonian army. Tataki 1998, 70 identifies him with Pouludamas son of Antaios from Arethousa, who was honored at Delphi (Dittenberger, Syll.3 269K; cf. Berve 1926, 2.322).

228

Heckel

cavalry, as Philip’s promotion from commander of the latter to hipparch of the Thessalians shows.15 Even though the Thessalians had elected Alexander as archon of the Thessalian League (as Philip II’s successor), they probably served under the same conditions as forces of the member states of the League of Korinth. Hence their contributions were described in glowing terms by Kallisthenes (no. 570), who wrote with a view to emphasizing the contributions of the allied troops in the hope of encouraging further allies and mercenaries to serve in the future; furthermore, they were dismissed when the “panhellenic” aspect of the war was drawing to close in 330. Their later hostility to Macedon, during the Lamian War, will nevertheless reflect the fact that Alexander’s death marked the end of Macedonian archonship in Thessaly. By comparison, the remaining League allies contributed only 600 horsemen (Diod. Sic. 17.17.4). These were commanded in 334 by a Macedonian commander, Philip son of Menelaos, and in 333 (when Philip was promoted to commander of the Thessalians) by Erigyios son of Larichos (no. 425), one of Alexander’s most trusted hetairoi. Their normal position in the battle line was to the left of Krateros’ phalanx battalion and to the right of the Thessalians. The men themselves came primarily from the Peloponnese—an additional 150 Eleians joined Alexander at Gordion in 333 (Arr. Anab. 1.29.4)—but we hear also of Lokrians, Malians, Phokians (Diod. Sic. 17.57.3; Curt. 4.13.29) and a group from Orchomenos, who made a dedication to Zeus on their return (IG VII, 3206).16 Of their activities in the campaign, before their demobilization in 330, very little is known; nor do we know the names of any junior officers. The greatest difficulty is posed by the Thracian horsemen (clearly not members of the League), whom Diodorus (17.17.4) may have confused with the prodromoi, but whose numbers (if Diodorus’ reference to 900 Thracian prodromoi and Paionians is rejected) are not given. Alexander certainly took a number of Thracian cavalrymen from Ephesos to Miletos (Arr. Anab. 1.18.3), presumably those commanded by Agathon son of Tyrimmas. But the king’s cavalry force included only four ilai of Companions, and one wonders where the prodromoi have gone, if they are not identical with the Thracian horse.17 15 Thus Arrian (Anab. 1.24.3) says that Parmenion commanded “the Thessalians and the other allies.” 16 See nos. 111, 147, 176, 337, 379, 402, 411, 452, 524, 567, 571, 575, 746, 841, 985, 997, 1046, 1125–27, 1129, 1155. Not one is singled out as an officer. See also Tritle (2009) 131–32. 17 Cf. Bosworth (1980a) 136 for the absence of the prodromoi. Amyntas son of Arrhabaios, who led the prodromoi (on the right) across the Granikos, commanded the left at Sagalassos, but Arrian (Anab. 1.27.4) says that cavalry was of no use in the hill country of the Pisidians. Nevertheless, his presence in Alexander’s portion of the army is worthy of

Commanders and Command Structure in Alexander ’ s Army

229

Five hundred additional Thracian cavalry joined Alexander in Egypt in 331 (Arr. Anab. 3.5.1).18 Similarly, we cannot be sure about the origins of the squadrons of mercenary cavalry. Diodorus mentions only mercenary infantry, but Arrian (1.23.6) tells us that Ptolemy (probably the son of Philip) was left in Karia with 3,000 mercenary infantry and 200 cavalry (the latter, as the structure of the Greek sentence implies, also mercenaries). Four hundred mercenaries arrived in Egypt (331) under the command of Menoitas son of Hegesandros. If Menoitas is a scribal error for Menidas, then these 400 may be identical with the mercenary cavalry at Gaugamela (Arr. Anab. 3.12.3); the other mercenary horse under Andromachos son of Hieron (Arr. Anab. 3.12.5) may be what remained of the squadrons that crossed the Hellespont in 334.19 After the dismissal of allied troops in 330, the only Greek cavalrymen who remained served as mercenaries.20 2.3 Iranian and Skythian Cavalry In course the conquest of lands in Central Asia, Alexander recognized the value of barbarian horsemen: mounted javelin-men and archers. According to the letter Alexander sent to Dareios from Marathos in 332, barbarian troops were already serving in the Macedonian army in the first years of the campaign.21 This letter is almost certainly not a genuine document found in the king’s archives but rather a literary fabrication. Nevertheless, the details are highly plausible, even if the numbers of such troops were relatively small. After Gaugamela, these must have increased dramatically. G. T. Griffith rightly remarked: “with so much of the fine cavalry of the former Persian armies note. Amyntas appears to have commanded above the “unit” (i.e. taxis or ile) level, and he may have led the scouts as hipparch, just as Philotas was hipparch of the remaining Companions. Agathon’s Thracians were stationed on the left at the Granikos (Arr. Anab. 1.14.3) and can therefore not be identical with the prodromoi. 18 On allies and subjects see also the chapter by Asirvatham in this volume. 19 Berve (1925, 1.146) suggests that there were originally 600 mercenary horsemen, and he directs the reader to 1.178, though here he speaks only of the 600 allied cavalry. Nevertheless, if Andromachos’ force balanced that of Menidas (and these were the 400 who arrived in Memphis), then the original number of hippeis misthophoroi may have been 600 (that is, 400 at Gaugamela + 200 left behind in Karia). 20 On mercenaries see also the chapter by Landucci in this volume. 21 Arr. Anab. 2.14.7: ὅσοι τῶν μετὰ σοῦ παραταξαμένων μὴ ἐν τῇ μάχῃ ἀπέθανον, ἀλλὰ παρ’ ἐμὲ κατέφυγονον, τούτων ἐπιμέλομαι καῖ οὐκ ξυστρατεύονται μετ’ ἐμοῦ (“I hold myself responsible for all of your troops who did not die in the field but took refuge with me: they are with me of their own free will, and voluntarily serve in my army.”) For Asian soldiers in Alexander’s army see the chapter by Asirvatham in this volume.

230

Heckel

available now, it would seem surprising indeed if Alexander did not make use of it, always supposing that it was politically sound to do so.”22 Olbrycht demonstrates that horsemen of the Persian aristocracy (nobiles) joined Alexander in Arachosia; a barbarian force of cavalry (included in the phrase ὅσοι ἄλλοι ἱππεῖς) had been left with Parmenion in Ekbatana.23 The hippakontistai (mounted javelin-men), who appear for the first time in Hyrkania (Arr. Anab. 3.24.1) and very soon after the dismissal of allied troops, appear to be barbarians who replaced the prodromoi. They may have been Paionians, but these are otherwise not mentioned in the second half of Alexander’s campaign.24 Hence, the forty hippakontistai with Anaxippos may also have been of Iranian origin. But this makes Satibarzanes’ slaughter of Anaxippos’ force more difficult to understand; for he could easily have enrolled them in his own army after Anaxippos’ death. On the other hand, if he had tried to win them over and failed, this would show that they were unusually dedicated to their new overlord.25 The hippotoxotai (mounted archers) are not attested in Macedonian warfare before 326, and those found in Alexander’s army at the Hydaspes were almost certainly Asian.26 Olbrycht notes that “they took the place of the hippakontistai in the army’s hierarchy.”27 They were recruited not only from the Dahaι but from Skythians in general28 and appear to have numbered 1,000 (Arr. Anab. 5.16.4), a formidable element in Alexander’s expanded cavalry.29 The names of the commanders of either 22 Griffith (1963) quoted by Olbrycht (2011) 71. 23 Olbrycht (2011) 72–3. Curt. 7.3.4; 8.5.9. Barbarian horsemen with Parmenion: Arr. Anab. 3.19.7. Olbrycht (2011) 74–75. 24 The hippakontistai are mentioned at Arr. Anab. 3.24.1 as forming one taxis, and Olbrycht (2011) 75 notes that “a few weeks previously Alexander had no hippakontistai under his command”: he suggests that from the Mardian campaign on they fulfilled the functions of the prodromoi, who are last mentioned at Arr. Anab. 3.21.2. 25 Bosworth (1980a) 352 notes that the hippakontistai were grouped with the Macedonian troops (Arr. Anab. 3.29.7; 4.4.7; 6.17.4; cf. Bosworth (1980b) 14) and they may represent a conversion of lancers into mounted javelin-men. Berve (1926) 1.151; Brunt (1963) 42 and Griffith (1963) 69–70 regard them as Iranian. Like Ashley (2004) 35, I am content to leave the matter in abeyance. 26 Olbrycht (2007) 316; cf. Olbrycht, (2004) 110–41. The hippotoxotai at the Hydaspes: Arr. Anab. 5.12.2, 13.4, 14.3. Only ten of them were killed in the engagement (Arr. Anab. 5.18.3). 27 Olbrycht (2011) 76. This suggests to me that the experiment in converting prodromoi into hippakontistai was only marginally successful. Olbrycht (2011, 81, with n. 55) observes that hippakontistai as the name for the formation appears to have begun and ended with Alexander. In the age of the Diadochoi, they were replaced the so-called Tarentinoi (Ταρεντῖνοι). 28 Bosworth (1980a) 279. 29 Bosworth (1980a) 298–99, (1980b), 15; Lendering (2005) 291. At Sangala, they were used for containment (Arr. Anab. 5.22.5); the engagement was primarily an infantry battle (Arr. Anab. 5.23.1). See Fuller (1958) 255–58. The hippotoxotai are normally found

Commanders and Command Structure in Alexander ’ s Army

231

the hippakontistai or the hippotoxotai are unknown. In battle, they must have followed the orders of a native leader—since the language barrier was not easily surmountable—who was in turn subject to a nominal commander of Macedonian origin. 3

Commanders of Infantry

3.1 Pezhetairoi and asthetairoi The infantry phalanx, 9,000 sarissa-bearing Macedonians, formed the backbone of Alexander’s army: comprising six battalions of 1,500 men recruited on a regional basis, in the years 334–330 they represented the virtual perfection of Philip II’s infantry reforms. Since at least the beginning of Alexander’s reign, they were termed pezhetairoi (or pezetairoi), “foot companions,” a name originally applied to the elite troops of Philip II who were now known as the hypaspistai (“shield bearers”).30 The six phalanx battalions who participated in the Asiatic campaign, came primarily (if not exclusively) from Upper Macedonia, from the mountain cantons ringing the lower Macedonian plain. Their semi-independent rulers had been placed securely under Macedonian rule during Philip’s reign, and their sons were raised at the court, serving as paides basilikoi (or, in Latin, pueri regii) and syntrophoi of the king’s sons; on the imprecise medieval analogy, they are generally referred to in modern scholarship as “Pages.” From this group emerged the future military commanders and governors.31 The Upper Macedonian aristocracy, nevertheless, continued to lead regional troops; for it was the practice of the Macedonian levies to fight under the leadership of their local aristocrats. Most of the known phalanx commanders are either explicitly identified as Upper Macedonians or else bear names that were common in the highlands.32 Amyntas son of Andromenes (no. 79) and his brothers, and Polyperchon, were under Alexander’s direct command, but if the Skythian cavalry were with Koinos at the Hydaspes (Arr. Anab. 5.12.2; Anspach II, 16), these too may have been mounted archers. 30 For the pezhetairoi see Theopompos, FGrH 115 F 348 (cf. Morison, BNJ); Dem. 2.17; Anaximenes ap. Harpocration = FGrH 72 F 4; Etym. Magn. 699.50–1; cf. Erskine (1989); HM2, 75–79; Anson (2009); Sekunda (2010) 447–48. 31 Curt. 5.1.42; 8.6.6; cf. Arr. Anab. 4.13.1. Full discussion in Heckel (1992) 237–53 and 289–98 for those individuals attested as Pages. For similar practice in Persia see Xen. An. 1.9.3–4; Kienast (1973). 32 Ellis (1976) 304 n. 23 cites an unpublished paper by Charles Edson (“Who was Parmenion?”), in which he suggested that Parmenion (who has been, somewhat imprecisely, called the commander of the phalanx) may have been from Upper Macedonia. Certainly, Arrian (1.2.5) says that Philotas commanded “the cavalry from Upper Macedonia.” I do not know on what basis Worthington (2008) 34 calls Parmenion “one of the Paeonian chieftains.”

232

Heckel

from Tymphaia (Arr. Ind. 18.6; Diod. Sic. 17.57.2, 20.28.1; Tzetz. ad Lycophr. 802); Perdikkas and Krateros from Orestis (Arr. Ind. 18.5); Koinos from Elimeia (Diod. Sic. 17.57.2). Hence, Berve’s suggestion that Krateros’ battalion comprised “Kernmakedonen” strikes me as implausible.33 Polyperchon led the Tymphaians at Gaugamela, and it would follow that his predecessors, Ptolemy son of Seleukos (no. 1007) and Philip son of Balakros (no. 906), were also of Tymphaian origin. Certainly the sons of Andromenes commanded their regional troops in successive battles (Amyntas at Granikos and Issos, Simmias at Gaugamela, and Attalos at the Hydaspes). Moreover, reinforcements were integrated into the phalanx according to their regional origins (Arr. Anab. 3.16.11: κατὰ ἔθνη).34 Neoptolemos, the father of Meleagros bore a name that was common in Upper Macedonia and Epeiros. Neoptolemos the archihypaspistes was known to be an Aiakid and thus a kinsman of Alexander’s mother, an Epeirot princess. Hence, it would be reasonable to assume that Meleagros’ troops were also from one of the cantons bordering on Epeiros. We must not forget that at the time of Philip II’s death, there were still those who challenged Alexander’s right to succeed and supported the Lynkestian House of Aëropos. Plutarch (Mor. 327c) says that “all Macedonia was festering and looking towards Amyntas son of Perdikkas and the Lynkestians.”35 It may be for this reason that Perdikkas commanded a mixed battalion of Orestians and Lynkestians; the remainder of each unit may have been led by Krateros. On the other hand, an equal number of infantrymen had been left with Antipatros to protect Macedonia and the state’s interests in Europe, and many of these will have been recruited from Lower Macedonia (Diod. Sic. 17.17.5). The 12,000 infantry mentioned by Diodorus (17.17.5) comprised six battalions of pezhetairoi and three chiliarchies of hypaspists (on which see below).

33

Thus Berve (1926) 1.115. I take “Kernmakedonen” to refer to the Lower Macedonian core. But see Berve (1926) 2.220: “Anscheinend von des Königs Thronbesteigung, sicher aber vom Aufbruch nach Asien an, führte K. eine, vielleicht aus der Landschaft Orestis sich rekrutierende Taxis der Pezhetairen.” 34 I would note also on the subject of recruitment that the neogamoi who returned to Macedonia for the winter of 334/3 brought back new recruits, which must surely have been drawn from their highland cantons (the officers were Koinos, Ptolemaios son of Seleukos, and Meleagros). 35 Two sons of Aëropos, Heromenes and Arrhabaios, were executed on the charge of complicity in Philip’s murder (Arr. Anab. 1.25.1). The other known members of the family served with Alexander as cavalry commanders (Alexander son of Aëropos, Amyntas son of Arrhabaios); except for Neoptolemos son of Arrhabaios, who had defected to the Persians and was killed at Halikarnassos in 334; Arr. Anab. 1.20.10, but Diodorus (17.25.5) puts him on the Macedonian side: see Bosworth (1980a) 145.

Commanders and Command Structure in Alexander ’ s Army

233

3.2 Command Structure The commanders of the Macedonian heavy infantry are named in Arrian’s description of the battle order at the Granikos: Perdikkas son of Orontes, Koinos son of Polemokrates, Amyntas son of Andromenes, Philippos son of Amyntas, Krateros (son of Alexander), Meleagros (son of Neoptolemos). Meleagros and Philippos are mentioned together already during the Getic campaign;36 Koinos and Perdikkas led their own units in the battle with the Illyrians, Kleitos and Glaukias (Arr. Anab. 1.6.9); and the battalions of Perdikkas and Amyntas son of Andromenes are attested at Thebes (Arr. Anab. 1.8.1–2: Diod. Sic. 17.12.3 names only Perdikkas). By the time of the battle of Issos, Philippos has dropped out of the list, replaced by Ptolemaios son of Seleukos, who died in the battle and was in turn replaced by Polyperchon son of Simmias. The command structure undergoes no significant changes until the period 328–326, except for the replacement of Amyntas and Perdikkas by their respective brothers, Attalos and Alketas. In the spring of 328, Alexander left four battalions in Baktria: Polyperchon [Philippos], Attalos [Amyntas], Meleagros, and a Gorgias. Arrian does not name the commander-in-chief in this passage (4.16.1), but it becomes clear (from 4.17.1) that he was Krateros. In the spring of 327, Krateros, Polyperchon [Philippos], Attalos [Amyntas], and Alketas [Perdikkas] are found together in Paraitakene, Krateros still leading τὴν αὐτοῦ τάξιν (Arr. Anab. 4.22.1). Now it is Arrian’s practice to refer to the commander-in-chief as having under his authority “his own battalion” (or “hipparchy”) and those of others.37 And on this occasion it appears that the actual leadership of the battalion was someone else’s responsibility, namely Gorgias’. When the army moved into India (Arr. Anab. 4.22.7), Perdikkas and Hephaistion (both hipparchs) led Gorgias [?], (White) Kleitos [?]38 and Meleagros, leaving Alexander with the so-called asthetairoi:39 Polyperchon [Philippos], Attalos [Amyntas], Koinos, 36 Arr. Anab. 1.4.5. It is, of course, not certain that these are phalanx commanders. 37 Antiochos commands his own chiliarchy and two others (Arr. Anab. 4.30.6); at the Hydaspes Koinos leads his own hipparchy as well as Demetrios’ (5.16.3); in India Peithon commands his own battalion and two hipparchies. 38 Heckel (2021) no. 596. 39 On the asthetairoi (Arr. Anab. 2.23.2; 4.23.1; 5.22.6; 6.6.1; 6.21.3), a subset of the pezhetairoi, see Bosworth (1973); cf. (1980a) 170–71, who suggests that the term meant “closest companions” in the sense of “closest kinsmen”; Hammond (1989) 148–51 believed that the word was a combination of astoi (“townsmen”) and hetairoi (“companions”); Griffith in HM2 709–13 regards the units so designated as the “best companions,” i.e., aristoi + hetairoi. Bosworth (1973, 251 n. 3) points out that the contraction of arist- into ast(e.g., Aristodamos becomes Astodamos) is a Thessalian, rather than Macedonian, usage. Hammond’s case is weakened by the unlikelihood that units of pezhetairoi were drawn

234

Heckel

and presumably Alketas [Perdikkas]. What has happened to Krateros’ battalion? Again the obvious explanation is that Gorgias is now in command of it.40 At first glance, it seems odd that Krateros’ battalion should be included in the forces of Perdikkas and Hephaistion. But, in the campaigns to come, Krateros leads contingents that include Alketas [Perdikkas] (Arr. Anab. 4.23.5; 5.11.3). It seems that, in spring of 326, there were seven battalions named for the following commanders: Gorgias [Krateros], Meleagros, Attalos [Amyntas], Koinos, Alketas [Perdikkas], Polyperchon [Philippos], and Kleitos [new]. Seven phalanx battalions reappear at the Hydaspes (Arr. Anab. 5.11.3). Krateros remains in the main camp with his own hipparchy and the battalions of Polyperchon [Philippos] and Alketas [Perdikkas]. Between this camp and the “island,” Alexander located Meleagros, Attalos [Amyntas] and Gorgias [Krateros],41 keeping with him Koinos and Kleitos [new].42 But, since Koinos appears subsequently as a hipparch (Arr. Anab. 5.16.3), we may assume that the leadership of his battalion was assumed by Peithon son of Agenor (cf. 6.6.1: τῶν ἀσθεταίρων καλουμένων τὴν Πείθωνος τὴν αὑτου τάξιν). What became of the heavy infantry battalions after 325 is hard to determine. Attalos and Meleagros returned to Karmania with Krateros (Arr. Anab. 6.17.3; Antigenes’ battalion must have comprised hypaspists or argyraspids). In 324 Polyperchon set out for Macedonia with Krateros (Arr. Anab. 7.12.4), as did Gorgias and Kleitos (Just. Epit. 12.12.8); Attalos, Alketas and Meleagros were all entirely or primarily from cities, since cities were, at any rate, in relatively short supply in Macedonia and the infantrymen were chiefly of peasant stock. Heckel (2009) believes this represents the proximity of these units to the king in the battle-line. Anson (2010) argues that their shields were decorated with a star (aster), the symbol of the Macedonian royal house. This view has been incorrectly attributed to me by Sekunda (2010) 457, with n. 37. Certainly, an explanation that involves equipment rather than kinship or honor makes it easier to explain Alexander’s creation of Persian asthetairoi. Arr. Anab. 7.11.3: ἡ στρατιὰ ἡ βαρβαρικὴ ἐς λόχους τε καταλεγομένη καὶ τὰ Μακεδονικὰ ὀνόματα ἄγημά τι Περσικὸν καλούμενον καὶ πεζέταιροι Πέρσαι καὶ ἀσθέτεροι ἄλλοι καὶ ἀργυρασπίδων τάξις Περσική …. 40 Cf. Bosworth (1973) 247 n. 1; Tarn (1948) 2.145. 41 Arr. Anab. 5.12.1. Bosworth (1973, 247 n. 2) argues that Meleagros, Gorgias, and Attalos commanded mercenary forces and “are not attested with battalions and cannot have commanded battalions.  …” He points to “the absurdity of Alexander going into battle with two battalions and leaving five unengaged on the far bank of the Hydaspes. …” But this is exactly what the other evidence for the battle suggests: the leaders of the pezoi are Seleukos (Royal Hypaspists), Antigenes (regular hypaspists) and Tauron (archers). I find it hard to believe that Alexander would place the battalions of three experienced commanders under new and unnamed commanders for this battle only. 42 Arr. Anab. 5.12.2. Koinos was by now hipparch, but his battalion kept Koinos’ name until his death: cf. 5.21.1; only at 6.6.1, that is, after Koinos’ death [6.2.1], does it become known as Peithon’s battalion.

Commanders and Command Structure in Alexander ’ s Army

235

Table 10.1 The commanders of the pezhetairoi

334

333

332

331

330

329–328

327–324

Perdikkas Koinos Amyntas Philip Meleagros Krateros

Perdikkas Koinos Amyntas Ptolemy? Meleagros Krateros

Perdikkas Koinos Amyntas Ptolemy Meleagros Krateros

Perdikkas Koinos Simmias Polyperchon Meleagros Krateros

Perdikkas Koinos Amyntas Polyperchon Meleagros Krateros

Alketas Peithon? Attalos Polyperchon Meleagros Gorgias

Alketas Peithon Attalos Polyperchon Meleagros Gorgias Kleitos

still in Babylon when the king died. Many of the 10,000 veterans who accompanied Krateros must have been discharged pezhetairoi, and it appears that there was a reorganization of the infantry or that only three or four battalions of Macedonian infantry remained with the king. 3.3 Hypaspists and Argyraspids In addition to the 9,000 pezhetairoi, the Macedonian contingent included 3,000 elite infantrymen known as “Shield bearers.” Unlike the regional levies, the hypaspistai were selected on the basis of physique and valor. The regular hypaspists were originally known as pezhetairoi.43 These are described by Theopompus as ἐκ πάντων τῶν Μακεδόνων ἐπίλεκτοι οἱ μέγιστοι καὶ ἰσχυρότατοι ἐδορυφόρουν τὸν βασιλέα καὶ ἐκαλούντο πεζέταιροι (“The largest and strongest of all the Macedonians were chosen to be spear-bearers for the king and were called foot companions,” FGrH 115 F348). I would disagree, however, with Anson’s claim that in Philip’s time these pezhetairoi were “only the agema … one thousand troops as opposed to the later three thousand.”44 The pezhetairoi of Philip II took the name hypaspists or, more specifically, “the hypaspists of the Companions” (οἱ ὑπασπισταὶ τῶν ἑταίρων) when the name pezhetairoi came to be applied generally to the Macedonian infantry, probably at the beginning of Alexander’s reign. The regular hypaspists, who were under the command

43 Anson (1985, 2009). Erskine (1989) argue that the pezhetairoi were Philip’s footguard but that these were replaced by the hypaspists in Alexander’s reign. The pezhetairoi, however, continued to operate as a “higher status unit” (394), but Alexander preferred a footguard composed of men of whose loyalty he could be sure. 44 Anson (1985) 248.

236

Heckel

of Nikanor son of Parmenion until his death in 330, appear to have developed into the argyraspids, as is foreshadowed by Diodorus (17.57.2). The hypaspists were the multi-purpose, crack troops of the king, armed in the style of Greek hoplites. In a set battle, such as Issos or Gaugamela, they were the articulating force between the heavy infantry and the cavalry. Conspicuous in the king’s sieges, and selected for special missions that required speed and flexibility, they served as the guard and military police.45 They comprised three chiliarchiai (units of a thousand, i.e., 1,028), which were subdivided into pentakosiarchiai (groups of 512), which perhaps represented two lochoi. Their commanders, like the men themselves, were selected on the basis of merit, and Curtius gives a list of nine individuals selected in a contest of valor in Sittakene (in 331), of whom three were certainly appointed chiliarchs; the remainder were presumably given the subordinate rank of pentakosiarch, Primus omnium virtutis causa donatus est Atarrhias senior, qui omissum apud Halicarnason a iunioribus proelium unus maxime accenderat, proximus ei Antigenes visus est, tertium locum Philotas Augaeus obtinuit, quartus Amyntae datus, post hos Antigonus et ab eo Lyncestes Amyntas fuit, septimum locum Theodotus, á…ñ ultimum obtinuit Hellanicus. The first prize went to Atarrhias for his bravery; it was he who had done most to revive the battle at Halicarnassus, when the younger men had given up the fight. Antigenes was judged second, Philotas the Augaean gained third place, and fourth went to Amyntas,. After these came Antigonus, then Amyntas Lyncestes, with Theodotus gaining seventh place á…ñ and Hellanicus the last place. (Curt. 5.2.3–5, trans. J. C. Yardley)46

45

46

Police force: Atarrhias takes 300 men (almost certainly hypaspists like himself) to arrest Philotas (Curt. 6.8.19–21); the hypaspists are also ordered to seize the mutineers at Opis (10.2.30: thirteen individuals arrested by the custodes corporis). Atarrhias and another hypaspist commander, Amyntas, were employed by Alexander to incite the assembled army against Philotas (Curt. 6.9.28) and against Alexander Lynkestes (Curt. 7.1.5: saying his actions were “no doubt prearranged”). They served also as a security force (Curt. 8.1.45, 49). For different discussions of the problem see Atkinson (1994) 56–61, (1987); Daniel (1992); and Hatzopoulos (1996) 1.444–52. Three of the men named in this list are clearly hypaspist leaders, and it follows that the remainder are as well. Many aristocratic officers held their commands on the basis of family background. I know of no cases where they were ranked according to merit (pace Lendon 2005, 130, noted above).

Commanders and Command Structure in Alexander ’ s Army

237

Certainly, a unit of 3,000 would require three chiliarchs and six pentakosiarchs. Nevertheless, the supreme commander of the hypaspists, the archihypaspistes, was a nobleman, appointed by Alexander himself. From 334 until 330, this office was held by Nikanor son of Parmenion (no. 776); thereafter, by Neoptolemos, a kinsman of Alexander. The command structure of the hypaspists after 331 was presumably as follows:47 Table 10.2 The Commanders of hypaspists

Archihypaspistes Chiliarch Attarhias (no. 250) Pentekosiarch Amyntas (no. 81)

Nikanor (no. 776) Philotas (no. 939) Name lost

Pentekosiarch

Hellanikos (no. 512)

Antigonos (no. 118)

Antigenes (no. 109) Amyntas Lynkestes (no. 82) Theodotos (no. 1110)

The transformation of the hypaspists into argyraspids (“Silver Shields”) appears to have occurred in India, but apparently after the battle at the Hydaspes.48 The new armor, which must have included the distinctive silver shields from which the unit took its new name, did not arrive until Alexander returned to Hydaspes from the Hyphasis.49 The transformation of the hypaspists into argyraspids may represent a recognition of their service 47 Assuming that Asclepiodotus, Tactica 3.1 is correct in placing the weakest forces in the middle: “The entire army as well as its units disposed on the basis of a fourfold division, so that of the four half wings the bravest holds the right of the right wing, the second and third in point of valour the left and right of the left wing, and the fourth the left of the right wing” (Loeb trans.). In this case, there are only three divisions, but the principle is the same. This cannot have been true of the organization of the pezhetairoi, and we must dismiss Lendon’s conclusion (2005, 130): “The Macedonian army was a gigantic Homeric ranking system. In principle, every soldier was placed in rank order relative to every other, from the haughty Ajax in the royal Horse Guard on the extreme right to the Thersites, ‘the worst man who came beneath Ilion’, in the humble foot battalion of Krateros, forever at the left of the line.” Krateros was one of Alexander’s most competent and trusted commanders (Heckel 2016, 122–52). 48 Just. Epit. 12.7.4–5, claiming the entire army had arms decorated with silver and came to be known as the argyraspids, is incorrect, as is the claim that this occurred at the beginning of the Indian campaign. But, if there is any truth to Curtius’ report (9.3.21) that there was armor “emblazoned with gold and silver, sufficient for 25,000 soldiers” (cf. Diod. Sic. 17.95.4), then the hypaspists were not the only ones to receive an equipment upgrade. 49 Curt. 9.3.21; Diod. Sic. 17.95.4. Justin (Epit. 12.7.5) mistakenly calls the entire army the argyraspids: phaleras equorum et arma militum argento inducit exercitumque suum ab argenteis clipeis Argyraspidas appellavit. Unless Justin uses exercitus suus to mean the hypaspists (“Alexander’s own troops”), he has made an error, wrongly calling the whole

238

Heckel

and the expectation that they would soon be demobilized. Certainly, when Krateros left India in 325 and returned to Karmania via the Bolan Pass, he was accompanied by Antigenes (no. 109)50 and, presumably, his men. This must have been preceded by the creation of new hypaspists, which accompanied Alexander on the Gedrosian march (e.g., Arr. Anab. 6.22.1). When Perdikkas inherited the Royal Army in 323, he had with him a corps of hypaspists, distinct from the argyraspids (who had gone to Kilikia with Krateros); this must have been the unit formed in India to replace the veterans.51 The argyraspids are indisputably the former hypaspists of Alexander. According to Berve, they came into being in India “durch eine Auswahl aus altgedienten Hypaspisten” but were not identical with the entire hypaspists corps; for he draws attention to the existence of hypaspists alongside the argyraspids at Paraitakene (Diod. Sic. 19.28.1).52 But the hypaspists of Eumenes army—they appear also at Gabiene (Diod. Sic. 19.40.3)—are clearly not those of Alexander. Significantly, it is the argyraspids who pride themselves on their service, and their stainless record, under Alexander, not the hypaspists who are positioned next to them. Spendel regarded the argyraspids as synonymous army the argyraspids. But this does not make his testimony worthless, so Lock (1977) 375; Tarn (1948) 2.123–4. He was aware of the formation of the argyraspids, but he did not understand exactly who they were. See full discussion in Yardley & Heckel (1997) 237–38. 50 The belief that Antigenes served as a phalanx commander at the Hydaspes is, in my opinion, misguided. This was proposed by Crämer (1893) 53 and rejected by Berve 2.41 n. 1, but the notion persists in modern scholarship: Bosworth (1995, 298) believes he may have had temporary command of White Kleitos’ battalion. When Alexander crossed upstream from Poros’ position, he brought with him no more than two battalions, those of White Kleitos and Peithon. In the main camp he left Polyperchon and Alketas, under the command of Krateros, and halfway upstream he had stationed Meleagros, Attalos and Gorgias. When Alexander gives instructions to Antigenes he speaks also to Tauron and Seleukos. It is clear that he is discussing the roles of the archers, the Royal Hypaspists and regular hypaspists. Perhaps Antigenes’ appearance in place of Atarrhias means that a portion of the regular hypaspists remained behind. If the story is true, that a certain Attalos (Curt. 8.13.21; also ME 58: Attalus quidam) was posing as Alexander in the king’s absence, he may have been accompanied by a hypaspist guard for the sake of realism. 51 Diod. Sic. 18.33.6, 34.2. Bosworth (2003, 83) suggests that these hypaspistai are merely “the storming group proper which literally ascended under their shields.” This seems unlikely, since what we should expect in that case is hyperaspizein, “to put one’s shield over [oneself or someone else],” that is, in a protective manner. The fact that hypaspistai appear with klimakophoroi (the latter not an official, but rather ad hoc, unit) does not, to my mind, give strong support to the view of hypaspistai as a “purely descriptive term.” The armies of the Successors and the Hellenistic kings replicated that of Alexander, just as their courts featured hetairoi and paides basilikoi. 52 Berve (1926) 1.128.

Commanders and Command Structure in Alexander ’ s Army

239

with the Alexander’s hypaspists.53 The hypaspist veterans (now the argyraspids) were dismissed at Opis in 324, at which time Antigenes accompanied Krateros to Kilikia.54 What became of Atarrhias is unknown. That he is identical with the man of that name mentioned by Plutarch (Mor. 339b) is uncertain; less likely is his identification with Kassandros’ commander (no. 251). He may have died before the army’s return from India—hence Antigenes’ prominence in India, on the return march from the kingdom of Mousikanos, and the march to Kilikia. The other commander, Teutamos, named only in the accounts of the Diadochoi, may have been appointed at Triparadeisos as check on the power of Antigenes. 3.4 The Royal Hypaspists In addition to the regular troops employed by the king, there were elite groups, designated by the adjective “royal” (basilikos), both among the infantry and the cavalry. These were assigned the task of fighting in the immediate vicinity of the king, and they are clearly drawn from the Macedonian nobility. In the case of the infantry, the distinction is an easy one. The hypaspistai basilikoi were beyond doubt young noblemen, and their unit (which perhaps had no fixed nominal strength) is often termed the somatophylakes or somatophylakes basilikoi, further emphasizing their role as the king’s protectors. The members of the unit were most likely aged 19 or older; between the ages of 13 and 18, they had been enrolled in the paides basilikoi (“royal boys,” “Pages”), at which time they were mounted and developed the equestrian skills that would later be required of officers, whether they led infantrymen or cavalry.55 These troops and their commanders are discussed in detail under the rubric of somatophylakia. 3.5 Lightly-Armed Troops (psiloi) The relative obscurity of the psiloi and their commanders is, to a certain extent, attributable to the fact that they are troops drawn from the lowest socio-economic class of eligible fighters. But, although they seldom decided the outcome of battles, they played an essential role as skirmishers before the phalanxes engaged and in the fights that took place on rough terrain or against specialized opponents. Berve rightly notes that Macedonia must have produced psiloi from the earliest times and continued to supply them during 53 Spendel (1915) 45; cf. Tarn (1948) 2.151–52; and Anson (1981) 117–20. The arguments of Lock (1977) are not compelling; see Heckel (1981), (2013) 165–66. 54 Hammond (1989, 64) believes that the argyraspids remained in Babylon in 323, “to form the Macedonian part of the multiracial phalanx.” 55 Heckel (1986).

240

Heckel

Alexander’s reign.56 With the notable exception of the Macedonian archers (Arr. Anab. 3.12.2), few units are specifically identified as Macedonian, but it is virtually certain that Alexander did not rely entirely on foreign troops to supply slingers and javelin-men. The presence of Macedonian commanders does not establish the origins of the troops themselves. We find an Attalos commanding the Agrianes, a Ptolemy leading the Thracians, just as Erigyios commanded the mercenary horse and Kalas and Alexander Lynkestes were placed over the Thessalian cavalry. Diodorus (17.17.3–4) speaks of only 12,000 Macedonian pezoi, and these must be the 9,000 pezhetairoi and 3,000 hypaspists. The Agrianes and the archers, according to the same account, numbered only 1,000. Hence, it is possible that psiloi were of mixed origins. The archers by themselves can scarcely have numbered more than 500.57 But the reform of the army at Sοusa in late 331 saw them increase to at least 3,000: Tauron commanded 1,500 in the land of the Ouxians (Curt. 5.3.6), and these constituted only a portion of the force; in 327 not fewer than three chiliarchies are attested (Arr. Anab. 4.24.10). Berve may be correct in assigning the command of the reformed archers to Tauron son of Machatas.58 Arrian mentions both Macedonian (Arr. Anab. 3.12.2; cf. 2.9.2) and Kretan (Arr. Anab. 2.9.3) units, and the few attested commanders have names that are recognizably Macedonian (Antiochos, Kleandros, Klearchos) or Kretan (Eurybotas, Ombrion). But the division of command becomes blurred: Arrian’s terminology, here as elsewhere, is vague and the man identified specifically as commander of the Macedonian archers, Brison (Arr. Anab. 3.12.2), may be identical with the Kretan Ombrion. Berve’s attempt to distinguish between the ranks of στρατηγὸς τῶν τοξοτῶν and τοξάρχης is misguided and fruitless: by his own scheme the strategos Kleandros is replaced by an ἄρχων τῶν τοξοτῶν (which must surely be the equivalent of toxarches) Antiochos.59 3.6 Allied and Mercenary Infantry That the allied and mercenary infantry receive very little attention in the Alexander historians is hardly surprising. On the one hand, they were used largely in a supportive role, as reserves and, in the case of the mercenaries, as garrison troops. On the other, it is typical of literature that originates in the conqueror’s camp that the roles of allies (especially those of other races or ethnic groups) are overlooked or deliberately omitted. Like Cortés (and his 56 57 58 59

Berve (1926) 1.130. Cf. Berve (1926) 1.132. Berve (1926) 1.133. Berve (1926) 1.131–2.

Commanders and Command Structure in Alexander ’ s Army

241

historians), who scarcely mentioned the indigenous allies except to blame them for post-battle atrocities, Alexander could blame the destruction of Thebes on the hostility of the Boiotians and their neighbors.60 According to Diodorus, the non-Macedonian infantry comprised 7,000 allies, another 7,000 Odrysians, Triballians, and Illyrians, and 5,000 mercenaries. Since the total number of infantry is given as 32,000, and 12,000 of these were Macedonians (phalangites and hypaspists), we may assume that the Agrianes and archers made up the remaining 1,000. The archers, at least half of whom were Kretans,61 are discussed above. The Agrianes were Balkan javelin-men (in 336/5, their king was Langaros: Arr. Anab. 1.5.2), whose territory bordered on Paionia and the Maidians of the lower Strymon.62 Alexander relied on them heavily, often employing on special missions along with the hypaspists. At the beginning of the campaign, they numbered 500 (cf. Diod. Sic. 17.17.4, the archers and Agrianes together totalled 1,000), but a supplementary force of equal size was added later (Curt. 5.3.6; Arr. Anab. 4.25.6).63 3.7 The Epigonoi Although the epigonoi constitute a unit in Alexander’s army, they belong to the final stages of the king’s life and to the post-conquest phase.64 The sources are in general agreement about their origins, although there are some problems relating to the chronology of the program. The most plausible account of their origins comes (perhaps surprisingly) from Curtius, who says that, when Alexander was preparing to invade India, “he gave orders for 30,000 men of military age to be selected from all the provinces and brought to him in arms, to serve simultaneously as hostages and as soldiers” (8.5.1). Two other sources appear to imply that Alexander had conceived the idea as early as 330, when he was adopting other Persian practices: Plutarch (Alex. 47.6) speaks of their formation in a chapter that ranges chronologically from the campaign in Hyrkania (330) until the marriage of Alexander and Rhoxane (327), and it is necessary to treat the chapter as thematic rather than chronological; Justin mentions, in the context of 330, children born in the camp and adds that 60

See Bosworth (2000) on Cortés. On the destruction of Thebes see the chapter by Müller in this volume. 61 Of the original 500 archers, probably 250 were Macedonian. See Sekunda (2010) 459. 62 Strabo 7 fr. 36: οὐ μόνον δ’ὁ Ἀξιὸς ἐκ Παιόνων ἔχει τὴν ῥύσιν, ἀλλὰ καὶ ὁ Στρυμών· ἐξ Ἀγριάνων γὰρ διὰ Μέδων καὶ Σιντῶν εἰς τὰ μεταξὺ Βισαλτῶν καὶ Ὀδομάντων ἐκπίπτει. Griffith (HM2, 434) calls Langaros “a personal friend, and the model client king.” 63 Berve (1926) 1.138. 64 Full discussion in Olbrycht (2015); cf. Ashley (1998) 419; Bosworth (1980) 17–18; Briant (2010) 115–16.

242

Heckel

they were destined to supplement the fighting force and were called Epigonoi (Epit. 12.4.10: haec suboles nomen habuit Epigonoi). But the evidence of Justin is almost certainly contaminated by a misunderstanding on the part of the epitomator and experience of Roman frontier troops.65 In all likelihood, the decision to form the epigonoi was made in Baktria-Sogdiana, when Alexander embarked on his second stage Iranization, which included mixed marriages and the attempt to introduce proskynesis. The process of selecting and training the Iranian boys in both language and military arts would take time, and it is reasonable that Diodorus’ comment about “sufficient time” (χρόνον ἱκανόν, 17.108.2) refers to the interval between 327 and the appearance of the epigonoi at Sousa in 324.66 How these 30,000 troops—they are generally thought to be infantrymen—were to be employed and subdivided is unclear, although one may assume from the fact of their training in the use of Macedonian weapons and techniques that they would be organized and deployed along the lines of the pezhetairoi.67 Whereas other units (see above for barbarian cavalry) were used in combination with Macedonian troops as early as the campaign in the Upper Satrapies, the epigonoi are a different breed, not yet integrated into the army and envisioned by Alexander, who allegedly had become disillusioned with his Macedonians, as a counterweight (an antitagma) to them.68 Diodorus claims 65 For the chronological problems in Plutarch see Hamilton (1969) 129; Olbrycht (2015) 201; cf. Prandi (2013) 182. For the problems in Justin see Yardley & Heckel (1997) 208. Bosworth accepts Justin’s account as referring to a second body of epigonoi, different from the 30,000 but forces rooted in Asia who would be loyal to the person of the king. “The two bodies of Epigonoi were alike in their close attachment to the court and their training in Macedonian discipline. In both cases Alexander was attempting to create a supra-national army, but his motives were grounded in practical politics and military considerations were paramount” (Bosworth 1980b, 18). 66 Olbrycht (2015, 198–200) argues that the 30,000 allies mentioned by Diodorus (17.95.4) as joining Alexander at the Hydaspes are the epigonoi (since the term σύμμαχοι is used also of barbarian troops). Hence, he assumes that this contingent joined Alexander in India and returned from there with Krateros. The latter point is pure speculation. It is doubtful that the program of recruiting and training these boys could have been completed in time for them to join the Macedonian army (where they are otherwise unattested) within one year. The scale of the undertaking is clear from Plut. Alex. 47.6: “He chose out thirty thousand boys and gave orders that they should learn the Greek language and be trained to use Macedonian weapons, appointing many instructors for this work” (trans. B. Perrin). Furthermore, it is difficult to account for the reaction of the Macedonian soldiery to the epigonoi, when they appeared in 324, if they had already been exposed to them in 326. 67 Presumably sarissa-bearing infantrymen; or else hoplites. Briant (1999, 122–24) believes they may have been modeled on the Achaimenid kardakes, that they represented “the ‘Macedonization’ of these levies” (Briant 2002, 1037). 68 For the Macedonian reaction to their appearance in Sousa see Arr. Anab. 7.6.2. For the concept of an ἀντίταγμα see Diod. Sic. 17.108.3. See also the chapter by Brice in this volume.

Commanders and Command Structure in Alexander ’ s Army

243

that Alexander wished to form such a counter unit after his experience at the Hyphasis (wrongly “the crossing of the Ganges”), but this occurred too late to affect Alexander’s decision about the formation of the unit, though it may have reinforced the need for such an antitagma. Bosworth notes that the formation of the epigonoi (as described by Curt. 8.5.1) was “a security measure—a measure against Iranians not the Macedonians.”69 4

Conclusion

Alexander’s army, as the preceding discussion has made clear, was notable for its diversity, incorporating troops from different regions of the empire, suitable (on account of their weaponry and fighting styles—to say nothing of their experience) for the various challenges that confronted the Conqueror. Though not the first to employ combined arms warfare,70 Alexander became the artful master of this method and set an example for the Successors and the Hellenistic kings that followed. Works Cited Anson, E. M. (1981) “Alexander’s Hypaspists and the Argyraspids,” Historia 30: 117–20. Anson, E. M. (1985) “The Hypaspists: Macedonia’s Professional Citizen Soldiers.” Historia 34: 246–48. Anson, E. M. (2009) “Philip II and the Creation of the Macedonian Pezhetairoi,” in Wheatley and Hannah (2009) 88–98. Anson, E. M. (2010) “The Asthetairoi: Macedonia’s Hoplites,” in Carney and Ogden (2010) 81–90. Ashley, J. R. (1998) (2004) The Macedonian Empire: The Era of Warfare under Philip II and Alexander the Great, 359–323 B.C. London. Berve, H. (1926) Das Alexanderreich auf prosopographischer Grundlage, 2 vols. Munich. Bosworth, A. B. (1973) “ΑΣΘΕΤΑΙΡΟΙ.” CQ 23: 245–53. Bosworth, A. B. (1980a) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander, Books I–III. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1980b) “Alexander and the Iranians.” JHS 100: 1–21. Bosworth, A. B. (1995) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander. Vol. 2: Commentary on Books IV–V. Oxford.

69 Bosworth (1980b) 17. 70 Wrightson (2019).

244

Heckel

Bosworth, A. B. (2000) “A Tale of Two Empires: Hernán Cortés and Alexander the Great,” in Bosworth and Baynham (2000) 23–49. Bosworth, A. B. and Baynham, E. J. (eds) (2000) Alexander the Great in Fact and Fiction. Oxford. Briant, P. (1999) “The Achaemenid Empire,” in Raaflaub and Rosenstein (1999) 105–28. Briant, P. (2002) From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire. Winona Lake, IN. Briant, P. (2010) Alexander the Great and His Empire: A Short Introduction. Trans. A. Kuhrt Princeton. Carney, E. and Ogden, D. (eds) (2010) Philip II and Alexander the Great: Father and Son, Lives and Afterlives. Oxford. Campbell, B. and Tritle, L. A. (eds) (2013) The Oxford Handbook of Warfare in the Classical World. Oxford. Crämer, F. (1893) “Beiträge zur Geschichte Alexanders d. Gr.” Dissertation, Marburg. Ellis, J. R. (1976) Philip II and Macedonian Imperialism. London. Erskine, A. (1989) “The Pezhetairoi of Philip II and Alexander III.” Historia 38: 385–94. Fuller, J. F. C. (1958) The Generalship of Alexander the Great. London. Griffith, G. T. (1935) The Mercenaries of the Hellenistic World. Cambridge. Griffith, G. T. (1963) “A Note on the Hipparchies of Alexander.” JHS 83: 68–74. Hamilton, J. R. (1969) Plutarch Alexander: A Commentary. Oxford. Hammond, N. G. L. (1989) The Macedonian State: The Origins, Institutions and History. Oxford. Heckel, W. (1986) “‘Somatophylakia’: A Macedonian ‘Cursus Honorum’.” Phoenix 40: 279–94. Heckel, W. (1991) “Hephaistion ‘the Athenian’.” ZPE 87: 39–41. Heckel, W. (1992) The Marshals of Alexander’s Empire. London. Heckel, W. (2009) “The Asthetairoi: A Closer Look,” in Wheatley and Hannah (2009) 99–117. Heckel, W. (2013) “The Three Thousand: Alexander’s Infantry Guard.” In Campbell and Tritle (2013) 162–78. Heckel, W. (2016) Alexander’s Marshals: A Study of the Makedonian Aristocracy and the Politics of Military Command. London. Heckel, W. (2021) Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander and His Successors: From Chaironeia to Ipsos (338–301 BC). London. Heckel, W. and Tritle, L. A. (eds) (2009) Alexander the Great: A New History. Malden, MA. Kienast, D. (1973) Philip II. von Makedonien und das Reich der Achaimeniden. Munich. Lendon, J. E. (2005) Soldiers and Ghosts: A History of Battle in Classical Antiquity. New Haven. Lock, R. A. (1977) “The Origins of the Argyraspids.” Historia 26: 373–78.

Commanders and Command Structure in Alexander ’ s Army

245

Olbrycht, M. J. (2007) “Alexander the Great versus the Iranians.” Folia Orientalia 42/43: 159–72. Olbrycht, M. (2011) “First Iranian Units in the Army of Alexander the Great.” ANABASIS: Studia Classica et Orientalia 2: 67–84. Olbrycht, M. J. (2015) “The Epigonoi: The Iranian Phalanx of Alexander the Great,” in Heckel, Müller, and Wrightson (2015) 196–212. Parke, H. W. (1933) Greek Mercenary Soldiers from the Earliest Times to the Battle of Ipsus. Oxford. Prandi, L. (2013) Diodoruo Siculo. Bibliotheca storica. Libro XVII. Commento storico. Milan. Raaflaub, K. and Rosenstein, N. (eds) (1999) War and Society in the Ancient and Medieval Worlds. Asia, the Mediterranean, Europe, and Mesoamerica. Cambridge, MA. Roisman, J. and Worthington, I. (eds) (2010) A Companion to Ancient Macedonia. Malden, MA. Rzepka, J. (2012) “How Many Companions Did Philip II have?” Electrum 19: 131–35. Sekunda, N. (2010) “The Macedonian Army,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 446–71. Spendel, A. (1915) Untersuchungen zum Heerwesen der Diadochen. Breslau. Strootman, R. (2012) “Alexander’s Thessalian Cavalry.” Talanta 42–3: 51–67. Tarn, W. W. (1948) Alexander the Great, 2 vols. Cambridge. Tritle, L. A. (2009) “Alexander and the Greeks: Artists and Soldiers, Friends and Enemies,” in Heckel and Tritle (2009) 121–40. Trundle, M. (2004) Greek Mercenaries from the Late Archaic Period to Alexander. London. Yardley, J. C. and Heckel, W. (1997) Justin: Epitome of the Philippic History of Pompeius Trogus. Books 11–12: Alexander the Great. Oxford. Wheatley, P. and Hannah, R. (eds) (2009) Alexander in the Antipodes. Claremont, CA. Wrightson, G. (2019) Combined Arms Warfare in Ancient Greece from Homer to Alexander the Great and His Successors. London.

Chapter 11

Money and Honor: Military Compensation in the Armies of Philip and Alexander Alexander Meeus One of the main challenges for both Philip and Alexander was keeping their troops motivated and eager for ever new campaigns. When Philip acceded to the throne in 359 BCE, the morale in the Macedonian army had sunk very low due to the major defeats at the hands of the Illyrians (Diod. Sic. 16.2.4–3.1; Just. Epit. 7.6.3–5).1 Whilst Alexander started his reign at what may have been an all-time high in terms of the army’s confidence and motivation, the youthful king needed to gain the men’s trust and, what is more, maintain their willingness to march through exotic lands from Egypt to the Indus under all sorts of weather conditions.2 Within the spectrum of available means of ensuring the army’s loyalty and obedience, military compensation in its various forms must have been one of the main factors.3 The two following anecdotes appear particularly instructive. Polyaenus (Strat. 4.2.6)—unfortunately without providing any context—describes a trick Philip once played on his soldiers who were demanding their pay: Philip and the pancratiast Menegetes were wrestling in the palaestra, when the soldiers lined up all around and loudly demanded their pay. Not having the money, Philip came forward dripping with sweat and covered in dust, and said with a smile: “You are right, comrades, but this the very reason why I am oiled up to fight the barbarian, to pay you back many times over for your favors.” Having said this, he clapped his hands, ran through the midst of them, and jumped into a pool, and the Macedonians 1 On the situation at the beginning of Philip’s reign, see King, this volume. All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated. 2 It seems that only when they reached the Hyphasis, they had finally had enough: cf. Roisman (2012) 34, “they had reached a breaking-point.” Yet Roisman (2012) 32–33, also notes that the following years the troops willingly underwent further hardship and that “except for the mental fatigue, many of the (…) difficulties were more immediate than cumulative.” See Brice and King in this volume. 3 For other relevant factors affecting the army’s loyalty, see King and D’Agostini in the present volume.

© Alexander Meeus, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_013

Money and Honor

247

laughed. Philip did not give up wrestling in the pond with the pancratiast and splashing water in his face until the soldiers got tired of it and left. Philip himself often made mention of this stratagem during his drinking bouts, claiming that he had quite wittily evaded the demands. In 324, after ten years of continuous campaigning, Alexander announced at Opis that he would send home the Macedonians who were unfit for service because of old age or disability, whilst promising those who remained a reward that would make those at home jealous and encourage them to want to join the war too (Arr. Anab. 7.8.1). The men were unimpressed with this promise which followed immediately after the arrival of 30,000 half-Asian reinforcements, though: Plutarch (Alex. 71.1–2, trans. B. Perrin) reports that they were filled with dejection and fear, thinking that their king would now pay less regard to them. Therefore, when he also sent the weak and maimed among them down to the sea-board, they said it was insult and abuse, after using men up in every kind of service, now to put them away in disgrace and cast them back upon their native cities and their parents, no longer the men they were when he took them. Accordingly, they bade him send them all away and hold all his Macedonians of no account, since he had these young war-dancers, with whom he could go on and conquer the world.4 Although the exact historicity of the first episode is even more doubtful than that of the second one,5 these passages illustrate the basics of the issue of military compensation in the campaigns of Philip and Alexander very well: the soldiers wanted to be paid and—especially in the case of the Macedonians—to be respected and honored. Curtius (9.1.3) may not have been too far off the mark in describing them as avidi milites et pecuniae et gloriae, “soldiers eager for money and glory.”6 This chapter will therefore review what we know of both material and non-material compensation in terms of regular pay, booty, 4 According to Arrian, too, “they supposed that they were by now objects of his contempt and that he thought them wholly useless in his wars; they were, not without reason, aggrieved once more by the speech he had delivered” (Anab. 7.8.2, trans. Brunt 1983). Cf. also Arr. Anab. 7.6.5. and Just. Epit. 12.11.6 with Roisman (2012) 49–50 and Trampedach and Meeus (2020a) 12. 5 On the problems with the source tradition for the events at Opis and the difficulties in reconciling the different versions, see Carney (1996) 37–42; Roisman (2012) 44–58; Brice in this volume. 6 Wallace (2020) 132–143 discusses some of the ways in which the veterans of Alexander’s campaigns boasted of their glory back home.

248

Meeus

bonuses and honor in the armies of Philip and Alexander, but it should be noted from the outset that there is hardly any information about some of these aspects of the former’s reign. 1

Regular Pay

The question of regular pay in the armies of Philip and Alexander is a particularly vexing one, as references to it in the sources are few and far between. The scantiness of the evidence is hardly surprising given the extremely limited interest of our sources in such commonplace administrative matters.7 The only clear indications come near the end of Alexander’s reign and occur in a context that does not seem to allow for easy generalizations. Furthermore, even the most detailed and informative passages do not offer complete and unequivocal reports:8 in the context of Alexander’s creation of a mixed Macedonian-Iranian phalanx, for instance, Arrian (Anab. 7.23.3) offers the one passage that discusses different pay grades, but he does not tell us whether these pay grades were new or how much the Persians got. Is it implied that they got the same as the Macedonian rank and file? Or did the Persians get less and were Arrian or his source simply not interested in the question? Especially in Alexander’s army, it is clear that a great number of different groups with their own respective pay scales need to be distinguished and it seems unwarranted to transpose indications about any single one of these to the others: Macedonians, Greek allies, Greek mercenaries, allied and subject troops from neighboring Balkan tribes, the various Asian contingents, as well as further distinctions between cavalry and infantry, not to mention between different types of cavalry and infantry and between officers and soldiers etc.9 It is debated when regular pay was introduced in the Macedonian army. At the beginning of his rule, Alexander is said to have gained the goodwill of the Macedonians by releasing them from all their obligations except army service (Just. Epit. 11.1.10).10 This duty to serve need not necessarily imply that those who were actually levied had no right to a compensation for their 7 8 9 10

Holt (2016) 11 with n. 41; Naiden (2023) esp. 279. Cf. Milns (1987) 238–39 and 244. It thus seems hazardous to attach too much weight to the argument from silence in this respect: pace Touratsoglou (2004) 183 n. 9. Berve (1926) I, 294; Milns (1987) 233–34 and 249. For these distinct groups and ranks, see esp. Asirvatham and Heckel in this volume. Yardley and Heckel (1997) 79, however, suggest that Alexander actually offered tax exemptions in return for military service, which would mean that no such obligation existed under Philip.

Money and Honor

249

troubles—especially if only a small part of the men of military age were called to arms at any given time, creating an economic disadvantage for small farmers who were called on compared to those who were not.11 Yet, the obligation to serve in the army has often been taken to mean that Philip, and perhaps even Alexander, did not pay the Macedonian troops, though perhaps offering rewards in the form of land grants.12 There is no evidence, however, that such land grants were given exclusively to soldiers and, if so, whether they were given to all soldiers—by the end of Philip’s reign at least 27,000 in number13—rather than to the elite contingents of the hetairoi and pezhetairoi.14 If the grants were made to all Macedonians, they are not in any specific sense part of military compensation. Furthermore, land grants do not necessarily exclude that regular pay was given in addition.15 Yet, since its historicity as well as its origins are uncertain, Polyaenus’ anecdote about Philip deferring payment quoted above offers little help.16 Whilst it does not seem to have been uncommon for citizen 11

12 13 14

15

16

Whilst Griffith (HM2) 416 claims that “individual Macedonians will not have been called up to serve in the infantry every year or all year around,” Ellis (1976) 55 assumes that “an appreciable call for service must have been made on the smaller farmer, who could less afford it.” Borza (1990) 215; cf. Milns (1987) 235–36, discussing older literature. Anson (2008) 18. Anson (2008) and Mari (2018a) argue for a distribution of land to the population at large, but the evidence is mainly circumstantial. Just. Epit. 8.5.7–6.1 is so rhetorical and so generic that it is difficult to glean any concrete information from it: at any rate, there is no specific reference to land grants for soldiers here. The same goes for Alexander’s speech at Opis as reported by Arrian (7.9–10). In Mari’s argument, much hinges on the questions of Macedonian citizenship and the composition of the Macedonian assembly, which are highly contentious questions. Onomastic evidence from Amphipolis suggests that the original Greek inhabitants of the city rather than the new Macedonian settlers constituted the city’s elite (Hatzopoulos 1996, I, 182 with n. 5), but this need not mean that much land was given to common Macedonian soldiers. It may just as well be an indication of the limited scale of Macedonian settlement, as it seems unlikely that most or even a large share of the Amphipolitan territory was given to Macedonian soldiers: Griffith (HM2) 354–55. Such a system did exist in Ptolemaic Egypt with the cleruchs who received a plot of land but no pay. Whatever similarities there are (cf. Mari 2018a, 223), however, the details of the Ptolemaic system cannot simply be transferred to the situation in Philip’s Macedonia: because the Macedonian soldiers definitely received pay in the last year of Alexander’s reign (see below), there is no direct continuity in terms of military compensation. Furthermore, the vast majority of Ptolemaic cleruchs were not Macedonians (Stefanou 2013), and the existence of mistophoric cleruchs shows that a combination of land grants and payment was possible too: cf. Scheuble (2009). Cf. Adams (2014) 336 with n. 6, who suggests that archaeological evidence from Pella at least confirms that the physical setting of the anecdote is realistic. For Ellis (1976) 253 n. 55 the report is likely proof that Philip did pay his soldiers, but if the anecdote originated

250

Meeus

soldiers in Greek poleis in the fourth century to receive regular pay,17 this observation is not necessarily relevant to the context of the Macedonian royal army. Nevertheless, one assumes that Philip at least had to consider the effect on the motivation of his troops if they knew that their opponents were being paid whereas they were not, but monetary compensation would only have been one possible way to address this issue—perhaps the simplest but also the most expensive one. Demosthenes only refers to Philip’s paying mercenaries (e.g., Dem. 1.22, 14.31), but his comments are part of specific arguments meant to downplay Philip’s power, so his silence about the Macedonian soldiers themselves need not mean much. Though we lack any specific information for Philip’s army, there is no doubt that mercenaries were paid both a monthly allowance for food (siteresion) and further payment (misthos).18 A passage from Demosthenes’ First Philippic (4.28–29) describing the mercenary army he wishes to levy to protect Athens’ interests in Thrace provides some details about the modalities of payment. It is debated, however, whether this was the usual way or an exceptional method: Demosthenes states that each soldier should receive ten drachmas a month (i.e. two obols per day) as ration-money and that their full payment (μισθὸν ἐντελῆ) will be provided by plunder during the campaign. He notes that the latter option is available because in Thrace such a policy would not harm any Greeks or any of Athens’ allies, which implies that this system could not simply be used in every situation.19 Rather than issuing the monetary equivalent of the rations, the commander could also just supply the actual food.20 As to the payment proper, mercenaries in the mid-fourth century are commonly assumed to have received four obols (4/6th of a drachma) a day.21 Coin hoards exclusively containing bronzes of Philip II found in Thrace have been connected with the king’s campaigns there in the 340s,22 but they do not tell us

17 18 19 20 21 22

only at a much later time, its inventor may simply have assumed that the troops were paid based on the conditions of their own time. If historical, the anecdote must refer to the early stages of Philip’s reign, after which money was no longer a problem for him: surely the point of Philip’s not having any money was not that he had no cash on him while exercising at the palaestra, despite what Griffith (1980) 66 seems to suggest. GSW 1.3–30. Cf. Griffith (1935) 10–12; Landucci, this volume. Trundle (2004) 94–95. GSW 1.34–36. Milns (1987) 243 (with n. 28) and 249. Psoma (2009) 13; she argues that the bronze coinage tended to be used for siteresis payments and suggests that some of the royal Macedonian bronzes found throughout the Balkan peninsula may be connected to garrisons installed in several places by Philip and Alexander.

Money and Honor

251

who was paid (i.e. Macedonians or mercenaries), how much and what for (i.e. siteresis or misthos). Rations usually seem to have been given per month and the soldiers on campaign had to carry their own monthly supply.23 Although the rhythm of regular pay was probably likewise monthly for soldiers stationed in a particular place,24 on campaign the payments might rather have been yearly, or perhaps they were given whenever funds were available.25 The two months’ pay which Alexander’s mercenaries received at Babylon in 331 may have been an additional reward rather than regular pay (Diod. Sic. 17.64.6; Curt. 5.1.45; cf. infra). A very fragmentary Athenian inscription from the beginning of Alexander’s reign (IG II3.1 443) contains the words “for the hypaspist a drachma” and “each day,” but the context is unclear: it is not certain whether this refers to what Alexander paid his men or to what the allies had to supply. Most scholars take this to mean that the men in the phalanx, the hypaspists, were paid a drachma a day at the outset of the campaign.26 For Alexander’s final year, Arrian (7.23.3) mentions the existence of men “on double pay” and “ten-stater” men in the phalanx, adding that the latter received less than the former but more than the regular phalangite. As Alexander had adopted the Attic coin standard, the stater probably was a silver tetradrachm (four-drachma piece),27 so that a “ten-stater” man was probably being paid forty drachmas a month. These indications are compatible with the common hypaspist still making a drachma a day or thirty per month, the next lowest round number after forty per month.28 At the point Arrian is describing here, a highly differentiated system may have been in place for some time already, and the mention of a man “on double pay” in the attack on the Mallian town (Arr. Anab. 6.9.3) seems to provide a terminus ante quem of 326/5 for at least part of this system.29 Milns has plausibly suggested that some form of guaranteed compensation was in order due to the 23 [Arist.] Oec. 2.2.39; Frontin. Str. 4.1.6. Longer periods for rations are attested on some occasions: e.g., Dem. De cor. 157. 24 [Arist.] Oec. 2.2.39 writes of both sitarchia and misthos. 25 A yearly rhythm is suggested by Griffith (1935) 293 for Hellenistic mercenaries, whilst Sekunda (2010) 465 holds that there was no regularity at all. Milns (1987) 239–40 suggests that the soldiers would only receive their pay at the time of their discharge, a possibility ruled out by Le Rider (2003) 88–89, and Atkinson (2010) 7 with n. 31 and 32. 26 Sekunda (2010) 465. But see the different view of Milns (1987) 234–38, who discusses earlier scholarship. 27 Berve (1926) I, 194; Sekunda (2010) 465. Milns (1987) 246 with n. 35 rather thinks of the Macedonian gold stater. 28 Sekunda (2010) 465. 29 Cf. Atkinson (2010) 5–7; Matthew (2024) Contra: Milns (1987) 248, who argues that Arr. Anab. 7.23.3 describes “unusual and novel rates.”

252

Meeus

foreseeable duration of the campaign—whatever Alexander’s aims were at the outset in 334—and that the payments for the allies and mercenaries made it difficult not to pay the Macedonians.30 It has been suggested that hoard evidence proves the Macedonians were not paid even for most of Alexander’s reign, since coin hoards with Alexander tetradrachms buried during his lifetime have been found to the south of Macedonia, but not in Macedonia itself.31 Many factors are at play here, though: first of all the Greek allies had returned home in greater numbers earlier than the Macedonians.32 Furthermore, modern hoard discoveries do not depend on ancient people possessing coins per se, but on their burying and abandoning a treasure consisting particularly of the most valuable and trustworthy coins they had. Such abandonment can conceivably be connected to people in Thessaly and south of it burying their Alexander coins in the early days of the Lamian War, at a time when such turmoil was not yet to be feared in Macedonia itself. The hoard evidence is thus not as straightforward as it may seem, and it can certainly not be reinforced by the silence of the literary sources.33 The question whether the troops of the Corinthian League were paid by Alexander or by their home states is likewise difficult to answer. The literary references to Alexander’s paying for the allied fleet and troops are not unambiguous (Curt. 3.1.20; Arr. Anab. 3.19.5): as these passages do not tell us the ultimate origin of the money, they might simply mean that Alexander took money from the war chest that had been provided by the allies.34 The latter option seems to be supported by Arrian’s statement that upon the discharge of the allied soldiers in Ecbatana in 330, Alexander did not only give them the 30 Milns (1987) 238; cf. Atkinson (2010) 6; Matthew (2024). Le Rider (2003) 46 suggests a difference between the obligation to serve in defense of fatherland and foreign conquest. 31 Touratsoglou (2004) 182–83 with further references in n. 6. 32 Millett (2010) 500; Holt (2016) 120–24. Touratsoglou (2004) 183 stresses the return of the neogamoi (newly-weds) in 334 and of the apomachoi (those unfit for service) in 329: yet, it is impossible to be certain that Alexander tetradrachms must have been the currency the Macedonian neogamoi 334 would have received if they obtained pay, given the uncertainty about the date at which this coinage was introduced: cf. Dahmen (2010) 52 with n. 46; Kremydi (2011) 167 with n. 34. Matthew (2009) argues that in the early years of the campaign the hypaspists were paid with bronze so-called “shield coins.” However, the claim that army pay for the Macedonians can be the only possible purpose of these coins is problematic given how little we know both about these coins and about the question of Macedonian army pay. Moreover, contrary to a widespread scholarly assumption, Brice (2024) shows that Greek coins were by no means minted exclusively for military expenditure. 33 Cf. supra, n. 8. 34 Milns (1987) 237–38.

Money and Honor

253

agreed pay but also an additional 2,000 talents “out of his own resources.”35 This would seem to imply that the agreed pay did not come from Alexander himself but had been supplied by the members of the Corinthian League. The stipulation that the polis had to provide twenty triremes at its own expense in Alexander’s epigraphically preserved letter to the Chians also seems to imply that the allied troops were paid by their home states (RO 84A, ll. 8–9).36 2

Plunder

“While the Greeks knew no economic terms for what we mean today by investment, labor market, capital, or entrepreneur, they developed a remarkably rich vocabulary for the act and end results of looting,” as Frank Holt poignantly observes in his book on Alexander’s wealth.37 Indeed, it was generally recognized that the victor obtained legitimate ownership of the possessions of the defeated party in war.38 Whether it was common in Greek warfare for the loot of military campaigns—or part of it—to be divided amongst all the soldiers beyond what they were due as regular pay, is debated, however: it seems that in principle the loot would belong to the state.39 Whilst some procedure by means of which the whole army profited from the plunder in any captured city is implied as the general rule by Arrian in Alexander’s speech at Opis, the 35 Arr. Anab. 3.19.5, καὶ δισχίλια παρ᾿ αὑτοῦ τάλαντα ἐπιδούς. For the meaning of the phrase, cf., e.g., Arr. Anab. 3.17.2; Dem. 45.54. Plut. Alex. 42.3 merely states that it was a gift over and above their pay, and limits it to the Thessalians. 36 Will (1983) 52 n. 19 suggests that this was a punitive measure specific to the Chians, as they had defected to the Persians. The funding of the fleet is mentioned in the middle between the regulations restoring the democracy and the punishment of the oligarchs, and could in that respect be related to either of these aspects of the letter. Yet, on balance it does not seem that Alexander wanted to punish the polis as a whole (including the returned democratic exiles), so that the clause about the fleet was probably not part of the punishment. Alexander’s disbanding the fleet because it was too expensive (Arr. Anab. 1.20.1) is not a decisive indication, as the prohibitive cost for the allies would also be a consideration, and the fleet probably contained some Macedonian ships too: Hauben (1976) 80 with n. 10. Pace Schwahn (1936) 72–73, little can be gleaned from fines for deserters from the fleet at Nasos: see I.Adramytteion 36 with Stauber’s commentary ad loc. On the self-financed ships of the Greek poleis, see Roisman, this volume. 37 Holt (2016) 21. 38 Bikerman (1950) 123; Holt (2016) 44. 39 GSW 1.85–92, 5.363–401, noting that “when we are told that booty was distributed to soldiers, the context often establishes that there were arrears of pay” (5.400); Juhel (2002). For Macedonia it is, as always, uncertain to what extent the situation under the late Antigonids can simply be transposed to the time of Philip and Alexander.

254

Meeus

speech is of doubtful authenticity.40 Such a general distribution of plundered money is unambiguously attested only once, in the aftermath of Gaugamela (Diod. Sic. 17.64.6; Curt. 5.1.45; cf. infra). Moreover, the practice of soldiers keeping whatever they could get their hands on in a captured city is reported on only very few concrete occasions during Alexander’s campaign—and despite the Opis passage never by Arrian.41 Since most of the relevant passages belong to highly dramatized moralizing scenes,42 it is of course possible that our preserved authors only took an interest in the matter when they found material for moralizing in their sources, whereas they would not bother to note the procedure when it appeared as a merely financial matter, so to speak.43 However, it is equally possible that such occasions really were the exception.44 Other 40 Arr. Anab. 7.10.3. For its doubtful historicity, see Brunt (1983) 528–33; Bosworth (1988) esp. 100–13. Similar statements appear in speeches of Alexander at Arr. Anab. 5.26.8 and Curt. 9.1.2–3, but here there is no mention of the way in which the soldiers would obtain their share of the booty. 41 After Issus: Plut. Alex. 24.1, cf. Curt. 3.10.10, Alexander inciting the Illyrians and Thracians with the prospect of loot before the battle, though only from the spoils of the enemy soldiers (Diod. 17.35–36 describes the looting but does not mention Alexander’s giving the troops the right to plunder); at Persepolis: Diod. Sic. 17.70.1 and Curt. 5.6.8, clearly from the same source; a land in India: Diod. Sic. 17.94.3–5, though based on Diodorus’ vocabulary throughout the passage, this may only or mostly concern agricultural produce; Oreitis: Diod. Sic. 17.104.5–7. For the prospect of seizing the enemy baggage, see also Plut. Alex. 32.7 and Polyaenus, Strat. 4.3.6. In those instances where Diodorus is the only source, there is always the question whether he is just applying one of his often misleading clichés: cf. Meeus (2022) 40–42 with further references in n. 140 for the clichés in general, and GSW 5.369–71 and 375–98 for the division of booty in Diodorus. 42 Diod. 17.35–36, 17.70; Curt. 5.6.4–8; Plut. Alex. 24.1. Cf. Curt. 3.10.10, an instance of manifold ethnic stereotyping rather than moralizing per se. This only leaves Diod. Sic. 17.94.3–5 and 17.104.5–7, both rather desperate situations. 43 Holt (2016) 44–45. The difficulty is illustrated very well by reporting on the contests organized by Alexander (on which see below): Arrian seems to have included these in a fairly systematic manner, whereas Diodorus and Plutarch only mention two of them and Curtius only one, as can be seen in the table of Mann (2020) 65–66. Without Arrian’s account we would have no idea of the regularity with which such contests were held. Since none of the sources are particularly interested in the details of the soldiers’ remuneration in Alexander’s army, one must perhaps not attach too much weight to the irregularity of the reports. 44 Cf. Juhel (2002); Lane Fox (2013) 132. Holt (2016, 60) argues against interpreting such events as exceptional, but it is difficult to make much of Arr. Anab. 3.25.2, as we do not know whether the injustice referred to concerns massive plundering by the entire army or individual incidents (Bosworth [1980] 354–55 suggests that something must be wrong with the received text in this passage). Furthermore, for the specific question as to whether the army as a whole directly obtained plunder with Alexander’s permission, it is worth noting that this passage shows Alexander not allowing the army to loot. At Arr.

Money and Honor

255

passages present Alexander’s soldiers as heavily laden with the spoils of war,45 but this need not be the result of general distributions of booty after instances of plundering: they could have amassed these riches mostly through the combination of years of regular pay and special rewards and bonuses, to the latter of which we must now turn our attention. 3

Rewards and Bonuses

Special rewards and bonuses, which could take many different forms, were given in several contexts, but once more, nothing like a systematic overview can be reconstructed.46 Rewards for soldiers who had shown particular bravery were given after successful sieges and battles, as is attested after the capture of Olynthus by Philip (Diod. Sic. 16.53.3) and that of Tyre by Alexander (Diod. Sic. 17.46.6). Rewards for the entire army after the victories at Issus (Diod. Sic. 17.40.1), Gaugamela (Diod. Sic. 17.64.6; Curt. 5.1.45), and the Hydaspes (Curt. 9.1.6) may have been commensurate to the respective army segments’ contributions to victory.47 In the case of Olynthus, Diodorus explicitly states that Philip used the money he had made from selling the city’s enslaved inhabitants; after Gaugamela the money came from the treasury at Babylon.48 Though in the latter case the mention of two or three months’ pay (διμήνου μισθοφοραῖς/ trium stipendium mensum) for the mercenaries might hint at regular pay rather than rewards,49 it is said that Alexander honored the mercenaries with this amount,50 and the two hundred drachmae for the Macedonian infantrymen are incompatible with a multiple of their thirty drachmae monthly wage. It thus seems that we are dealing with additional rewards here,51 the expression

45 46 47 48 49

50 51

Anab. 3.17.3, it is not the Macedonians who “gathered great amounts of plunder,” pace Holt, but Alexander. E.g., Curt. 6.6.14–17; Plut. Alex. 57.1–2; Polyaenus, Strat. 4.3.10. And again, this should not surprise us: cf. e.g. GSW 2.286–88 on the limited interest of historians after Herodotus to report on aristeia. Berve (1926) I, 195; cf. Milns (1987) 240–44. Thus Curtius 5.1.45; cf. Holt (2016) 74. Holt (2016) 74 does assume that all of these numbers represent salaries. It is clear that Alexander could easily afford to pay extra bonuses at this point just from money seized at Arbela alone. The vocabulary in Curtius is too vague allow any conclusions, but Diodorus’ ἐδωρήσατο implies a reward rather than salary. Although payment and honor are by no means incompatible, in this context an honorary reward seems to be the correct interpretation of the phrase μισθοφοραῖς ἐτίμησε that appears to be unique in preserved Greek literature. Milns (1987) 244.

256

Meeus

for the mercenaries perhaps chosen to summarize the differences in rank or contribution to the battle. At the siege of the rock of Sogdiana, Alexander promised rewards in advance to induce the soldiers to bravery and speed by giving prizes to the first ten or twelve soldiers to reach the top, with the huge reward of ten (or twelve) talents for the first, progressively diminishing by one talent.52 A similar incentive was given at Tyre by promising rewards for exceptionally hard work during the construction of the siege mole (Arr. Anab. 2.18.4).53 After the death of Darius there was a bonus for the allied soldiers who stayed on in the royal army (Diod. Sic. 17.74.3), and a similar reward seems to have been planned at Opis for those Macedonians who would not be sent back to Europe in 324 (Arr. Anab. 7.8.1). Yet, after the disturbances there and the soldier’s begging to be allowed to stay as part of the reconciliation (Diod. Sic. 17.109.3; Arr. Anab. 7.11.3–6; Plut. Alex. 71.3–5; Just. Epit. 12.12.5–9), they may not have gotten such a reward. The settlement of the soldiers’ debts by Alexander is connected to the celebration of the Susa marriages by Plutarch (Alex. 70.2) so it may not constitute military compensation per se, although if we are to believe Justin (Epit. 12.11.1) Alexander did this to make sure that soldiers would be able to take their booty and rewards home.54 At Susa, honors for bravery and success in the form of golden crowns were given to several high-ranking officers (Arr. Anab. 7.5.4–6, Ind. 42.9). In Arrian’s version of the Opis speech, Alexander claims that most of the men had such honorific golden crowns (Arr. Anab. 7.10.3), but this is probably just one of the many overstatements in the speech; after the victory at the Hydaspes, such crowns are likewise specifically mentioned for officers only (Curt. 9.1.6). It has been argued that the so-called Porus decadrachms or elephant medallions were aristeia, prizes of valor, commemorating the spectacular victory at the Hydaspes.55 Such an interpretation surely makes more sense of the iconography than the assumption that these objects were 52 Curt. 7.11.12; Arr. Anab. 4.18.7. Arrian’s mention of darics should probably not be taken literally: Bosworth (1995) 129. Lendon (2005, 127–28) suggests that the tiered prizes recall Achilles ranking the competitors in Patroclus’ funeral games. 53 Cf. Plut. Alex. 39.2, an anecdote about a soldier rewarded for trying to carry gold that was too heavy for a donkey. 54 Although Diodorus (17.109.2) and Curtius (10.2.9–11) place the settlement of the soldiers’ debts at Opis, Susa seems to be the correct setting: Arrian (Anab. 7.5.1–3) with Atkinson (2009) 121. While Diodorus seems to imply that only the debts of those discharged were paid, this is probably the result of careless summarizing, as the more detailed parallel account in Curtius states that the debts of all the soldiers were settled. See Roisman (2012) 40–44; Holt (2016) 124–27. 55 Holt (2003).

Money and Honor

257

coins: while the prominent depiction of the defeated enemy would be unparalleled in the case of coins,56 for aristeia it might make more sense to show the image of the formidable enemy that was defeated by the recipient of the reward. It remains debated, however, whether these elephant medallions were issued by Alexander himself and what purpose they served.57 Plutarch (Alex. 34.1) also mentions gifts of money (ploutous) and estates (oikous) for the high officers after Gaugamela; land grants by Philip to the high-ranking individuals Polemocrates and his son Coenus are attested epigraphically (Syll.3 332),58 but it is unclear whether the reason for the grants specifically was a matter of military compensation. Banquets, at which Alexander is said to have distributed sacrificial animals “and everything else that was fitting” to the army on at least one occasion (Diod. Sic. 17.16.4), may likewise have been an aspect of military compensation, although of course they also served to affirm Alexander’s preeminence.59 4

Honor

Whilst the material dimension of all of the above cannot be overestimated, there certainly was more to it than the king buying military service and obedience.60 Both Arrian (Anab. 7.5.4 and 7.10.3) and Curtius (9.1.6) note that such material rewards, not only the crowns but also the cash, honored the recipients. In addition to these, there were many non-material ways in which Alexander bestowed honor upon his men, as for instance when he singled out individuals for praise.61 An even more honorable, and also more permanent, way to single out a soldier or officer was to reward their actions with a promotion (Diod. Sic. 17.65.3; Plut. Alex. 34.1).62 Exceptional merit could be rewarded with exceptional honors, as in the case of Peucestas for whom the position of an eighth bodyguard was created after he had saved Alexander’s life (Arr. Anab. 56 57 58 59 60 61 62

De Callataÿ (2005) 482–83. Wartenberg (2019) 25–29. Cf. Heckel (2006) 91; Criscuolo (2011) 464–65. Cf. Hom. Il. 9.68–73 and Mari (2018b). Pace Monson (2020) 284–85. Arr. Anab. 2.10.2, 4.29.7; Berve (1926) 199; Carney (1996) 25. For promotions functioning as both incentive and reward at the same time, see, e.g., Ellis (1976) 54. Lendon (2005, 125) suggests that there was also a system of promoting the unit which had performed best in the most recent battle to the most prestigious order in the battle line. Bosworth (1995, 154), however, argues that the order of the units simply tended to rotate from day to day.

258

Meeus

6. 28.3 and 6.30.2; Diod. Sic. 19.14.4).63 Of course, promotions meant a higher pay grade, but the prestige that was bestowed in this way mattered a great deal. This is clear from the appointments of new chiliarchs at the elaborate spectacle in Sittacene, where a jury selected the men who had displayed the greatest bravery during a public ceremony in which the audience could express its approval of or dissatisfaction with the decisions (Curt. 5.2.3–5).64 The prestige is also affirmed by the way in which a promotion by Alexander was used as special mark of distinction in the age of the Successors,65 and by the reaction of the Macedonians who felt excluded when Alexander started appointing Persian officers as a result of the conflict at Opis.66 The care Alexander showed to wounded and fallen soldiers and their families surely also entailed an element of compensating the soldiers for their toils, as Diodorus comments on the magnificent burial of the dead after the battle at the Granicus that Alexander “strove to make the soldiers more eager to face the dangers of battle by means of this honor.”67 The Macedonian casualties of the first attack at the Granicus, twenty-five Companion horsemen and nine infantrymen, were honored with a bronze statue group made by Alexander’s favorite sculptor Lysippus.68 The relatives of all the Macedonian Granicus victims received exemption from several taxes and duties.69 In 324, the veterans who were discharged obtained prohedria, the right to sit in the honorary front-row seats, at all games and theater performances and were allowed to wear honorific garlands on these occasions (Plut. Alex. 71.5). The entertainment Alexander 63 For a different—though not incompatible—perspective on such promotions and a detailed discussion of the case of Peucestas, see D’Agostini, this volume. 64 For a lucid discussion of the source-critical problems, see Bosworth (2010) 92–94. It is uncertain to what extent this procedure was as common as Hatzopoulos (1996) I, 457–58, makes it out to be; the archaic flair of the proceedings could be due to Alexander’s Homeric inclination and need not necessarily represent an old tradition: cf. Lendon (2005) 115–39. 65 Meeus (2022) 157–58, 169 and 372–73. 66 Diod. Sic. 17.109.3; Arr. Anab. 7.11. The importance the Macedonians are said to have attached to being called Alexander’s kinsmen and to the bestowal of their nomenclature on the Persians shows the role honor played in the affair: cf. Bosworth (2010) 271 n. 36. If historical, this proves very well that the Macedonians had not started thinking like mercenaries—a point that emerges clearly from the general thrust of the affair, pace Atkinson (2010) 16. Cf. Roisman (2012) 33 on the behavior of the Macedonian soldiers at the Hyphasis. 67 Arr. Anab. 1.16.5; Diod. Sic. 17.21.6; Plut. Alex. 41–42; Berve (1926) I, 197–98. 68 Arr. Anab. 1.16.4; Plut. Alex. 16.7; Bosworth (1980) 125; von den Hoff (2020) 112–14. Of course, this statue group served many other purposes too (cf. Lendon [2005] 128), but that does not exclude the aspect of military compensation. 69 Arr. Anab. 1.16.5; Bosworth (1980) 126.

Money and Honor

259

himself provided during the campaign, for instance with the games he held on many occasions, also showed his care for the soldiers but did much more than that.70 A fascinating inscription set up by one of the Cavalry Companions at Amphipolis about his being the first of the hetairoi to have been victorious in two events at such a contest reveals that beyond further material rewards Alexander created another opportunity for gaining honor thanks to these “campaign games.”71 5

Conclusion

Military compensation under Philip and Alexander appears to have been a complicated and multifaceted affair, and one that proves particularly difficult to reconstruct, as is most strikingly illustrated by the debate over whether the Macedonians received regular pay before the final years of Alexander’s reign. In any case, both regular pay and bonuses seem to have been graduated by unit, rank, and merit. Material rewards could take many forms such as cash, land, or golden crowns. Especially in the case of the Macedonians, the soldiers needed more than material compensation, though: in order to give them the feeling that they were properly compensated for the danger and hardships Alexander clearly also had to show care for his men and honor them, and there is no reason to think that this was in any way different in the time of Philip. Of course, besides compensating soldiers for their achievements, this sophisticated system of payment and rewards also served the purpose of motivating and encouraging them for the future. Works Cited Adams, W. L. (2014) “Sport, Spectacle, and Society in Ancient Macedonia,” in Christesen and Kyle (2014) 332–45. Anson, E. M. (2008) “Philip II and the Transformation of Macedonia: A Reappraisal,” in Howe and Reames (2008) 17–30. Archibald, Z. and Haywood, J. (eds) (2018) The Power of Individual and Community in Ancient Athens and Beyond: Essays in Honour of John K. Davies. Swansea.

70 Cf. Mann (2020) 72–75; Reames, this volume. 71 SEG XLVIII 716bis with Mann (2020) 69; cf. ibid. 65 for the concept of “campaign games.” Berve (1926) I, 196 is too reductionist in only referring to the material side.

260

Meeus

Armstrong, J., Pomeroy, A., and Rosenbloom, D. (eds) (2024), Money, Warfare, and Power in the Ancient World: Studies in Honour of Matthew Freeman Trundle. London. Atkinson, J. E. (2009) Curtius Rufus, Histories of Alexander the Great, Book 10. Introduction and Historical Commentary, with translation by J. C. Yardley. Oxford. Atkinson, J. E. (2010) “Honour in the Ranks of Alexander the Great’s Army.” AClass 53: 1–20. Berve, H. (1926) Das Alexanderreich auf prosopographischer Grundlage, 2 vols. Munich. Bikerman, É. (1950) “Remarques sur le droit des gens dans la Grèce classique.” RIDA 4: 99–127. Bosworth, A. B. (1980) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander, Vol. 1, Books I–III. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1988) From Arrian to Alexander: Studies in Historical Interpretation. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1995) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander, Vol. 2: Books IV–V. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (2010) “The Argeads and the Phalanx,” in Carney and Ogden (2010) 91–102. Brice, L. L. (2024) “Pegasi and War: Patterns of Minting at Corinth in the Later Fourth Century BCE,” in Armstrong, Pomeroy, and Rosenbloom (2024) 105–26. Brunt, P. A. (1983) Arrian, vol. 2, Anabasis of Alexander, Books V–VII—Indica. Loeb Classical Library 269. Cambridge, MA. Buraselis, K., Stefanou, M., and Thompson, D. (eds) (2013) The Ptolemies, the Sea and the Nile: Studies in Waterborne Power. Cambridge. Carney, E. D. (1996) “Macedonians and Mutiny: Discipline and Indiscipline in the Army of Philip and Alexander.” CPh 91: 19–44. Carney, E. D. and Ogden, D. (eds) (2010) Philip II and Alexander the Great: Father and Son, Lives and Afterlives. Oxford. Christesen, P. and Kyle, D. G. (eds) (2014) A Companion to Sport and Spectacle in Greek and Roman Antiquity. Malden, MA. Criscuolo, L. (2011) “La formula ἐν πατρικοῖς nelle iscrizioni di Cassandrea.” Chiron 41: 461–85. de Callataÿ, F. (2005) “Review of Holt 2003.” AC 74: 480–83. Dahmen, K. (2010) “The Numismatic Evidence,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 41–62. Eberhard, R., Kockelmann, H., Pfeiffer, S., and Schentuleit, M. (eds) (2009) “… vor dem Papyrus sind alle gleich!” Papyrologische Beiträge zu Ehren von Bärbel Kramer (P. Kramer). APF Beiheft 27. Berlin. Ellis, J. R. (1976) Philip II and Macedonian Imperialism. London. Griffith, G. T. (1935) The Mercenaries of the Hellenistic World. Cambridge.

Money and Honor

261

Griffith, G. T. (1980) “Philip as General and the Macedonian Army,” in Hatzopoulos and Loukopoulos (1980) 58–77. Hatzopoulos, M. B. (1996), Macedonian Institutions under the Kings: A Historical and Epigraphic Study. Meletemata 22. 2 vols. Athens. Hatzopoulos, M. B. and Loukopoulos, L. D. (eds) (1980) Philip of Macedon. Athens. Hauben, H. (1976) “The Expansion of Macedonian Sea-Power Under Alexander the Great.” AncSoc 7: 79–105. Heckel, W. (2006) Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander the Great: Prosopography of Alexander’s Empire. Oxford. Hemingway, S. A. and Karoglou, K. (eds) (2019) Art of the Hellenistic Kingdoms: From Pergamon to Rome. New York. Holt, F. L. (2003) Alexander and the Mystery of the Elephant Medallions. Berkeley. Holt, F. L. (2016) The Treasures of Alexander the Great: How One Man’s Wealth Shaped the World. Oxford. Howe, T. and Reames, J. (eds) (2008) Macedonian Legacies: Studies in Macedonian History and Culture in Honor of Eugene N. Borza. Claremont, CA. Juhel, P. (2002) “‘On Orderliness with Respect to the Prizes of War’: The Amphipolis Regulation and the Management of Booty in the Army of the Last Antigonids.” ABSA 97: 401–12. Kremydi, S. (2011) “Coinage and Finance,” in Lane Fox (2011) 159–78. Lane Fox, R. (ed) (2011) Brill’s Companion to Ancient Macedon: Studies in the Archaeology and History of Macedon, 650 BC–300 AD. Leiden. Lane Fox, R. (2013) “Aspects of Warfare: Alexander and the Early Successors.” Revue des Études Militaires Anciennes 6: 127–34. Lendon, J. E. (2005) Soldiers and Ghosts: A History of Battle in Classical Antiquity. New Haven, CT. Le Rider, G. (2003) Alexandre le Grand: Monnaie, finances et politique. Paris. Mann, C. (2020) “Alexander and Athletics or How (Not) To Use a Traditional Field of Monarchic Legitimation,” in Trampedach and Meeus (2020) 61–75. Mari, M. (2018a) “At the Roots of a Revolution: Land Ownership, Citizenship and Military Service in Macedonia Before and After Philip II,” in Archibald and Haywood (2018) 213–39. Mari, M. (2018b) “The Macedonian Background of Hellenistic Panegyreis and Public Feasting,” in Van den Eijnde et al. (2018) 297–314. Matthew, C. (2009) “For Valour: The ‘Shield Coins’ of Alexander and the Successors.” Journal of the Numismatic Association of Australia 20: 1–25. Matthew, C. (2024) “The Wage Cost of Alexander’s Pike-Phalanx,” in Armstrong et al. (2024) 127–44.

262

Meeus

Meeus, A. (2022) The History of the Diadochoi in Book XIX of Diodoros’ Bibliotheke: A Historical and Historiographical Commentary. Untersuchungen zur antiken Literatur und Geschichte 149. Berlin. Millett, P. (2010) “The Political Economy of Macedonia,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 472–504. Milns, R. D. (1987) “Army Pay and the Military Budget of Alexander the Great,” in Will and Heinrichs (1987) 1: 233–56. Monson, A. (2020) “Alexander’s Tributary Empire,” in Trampedach and Meeus (2020b) 263–87. Naiden, F. S. (2023) “The War Councils of Alexander the Great in their Military and Cultural Context.” Historia 72: 260–301. Psoma, S. (2009) “Tas sitarchias kai tous misthous ([Arist.], Oec. 1351b): Bronze Currencies and Cash Allowances in Mainland Greece, Thrace and the Kingdom of Macedonia.” RΒΝ 155: 3–38. Roisman, J. (2012) Alexander’s Veterans and the Early Wars of the Successors. Austin, TX. Roisman, J. and Worthington, I. (eds) (2010) A Companion to Ancient Macedonia. Malden, MA. Schwahn, W. (1936) “Nesiotai (1).” RE 17.1: 70–73. Scheuble, S. (2009) “Bemerkungen zu den μισθοφόροι und τακτόμισθοι im ptolemäischen Ägypten,” in Eberhard et al. (2009) 213–22. Sekunda, N. V. (2010) “The Macedonian Army,” In Roisman and Worthington (2010) 446–71. Stefanou, M. (2013) “Waterborne Recruits: The Military Settlers of Ptolemaic Egypt,” in Buraselis et al. (2013) 108–31. Touratsoglou, I. (2004) “Review of Le Rider (2003).” SNR 83: 180–92. Trampedach, K. and Meeus, A. (2020a) “Introduction: Understanding Alexander’s Relations with His Subjects,” in Trampedach and Meeus (2020b) 9–18. Trampedach, K. and Meeus, A. (eds) (2020b) The Legitimation of Conquest: Monarchical Representation and the Art of Government in the Empire of Alexander the Great. Studies in Ancient Monarchies 7. Stuttgart. Trundle, M. (2004) Greek Mercenaries: From the Late Archaic Period to Alexander. London. Van den Eijnde, F., Blok, J., and Strootman, R. (eds) (2018) Feasting and Polis Institutions. Mnemosyne Suppl. 414. Leiden. von den Hoff, R. (2020) “Alexander’s Dedications to the Gods: Sacred Space, Pious Practice and Public Legitimation,” in Trampedach and Meeus (2020b) 99–121. Wallace, S. (2020) “Communication and Legitimation: Knowledge of Alexander’s Asian Conquests in the Greek World,” in Trampedach and Meeus (2020b) 123–44. Wartenberg, U. (2019) “Early Portraits of Alexander the Great: The Numismatic Evidence,” in Hemingway and Karoglou (2019) 23–30.

Money and Honor

263

Will, W. (1983) Athen und Alexander: Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der Stadt von 338 bis 322 v. Chr. Münchener Beiträge zur Papyrusforschung und antiken Rechtsgeschichte 77. Munich. Will, W. and Heinrichs, J. (eds) (1987) Zu Alexander d.Gr. Festschrift G. Wirth zum 60. Geburtstag am 9.12.86, Vol. 1. Amsterdam. Yardley, J. C. and Heckel, W. (1997) Justin. Epitome of the Philippic History of Pompeius Trogus, Vol. 1: Books 11–12: Alexander the Great. Oxford.

Chapter 12

Recruitment and Training Jacek Rzepka This chapter focuses on the recruitment and military training of the Macedonian citizen soldiers (politikoi stratiotai) under Philip II and Alexander the Great. In actual fact, the sources we have for both aspects of the Macedonian military discussed here are scanty and haphazard and thus far from explaining all uncertainties. A popular remedy against shortage of evidence that hampers writing about organization of the Macedonian army under Philip and Alexander is extrapolation from better, often epigraphical and archaeological in nature, evidence we have for later epochs of Macedonian history or from information on other contemporary states of the wider Greek world. Such a way of collecting information that might be loosely related to Late Argead Macedonia could reveal more “details” of the Macedonian military organization, but the picture that would emerge need not be completely true. This is why I decided to limit extrapolations to what is absolutely necessary while writing this chapter. 1

Recruitment of the Army Prior to the Reign of Philip

When we think about recruitment of Macedonian citizen armies, our discussion cannot evade the problem of armed forces in Macedonia prior to Philip II and Alexander III. It is obvious that the expansion of Macedonia in the reign of Philip significantly changed the country’s recruitment potential. We do not know a lot about Macedonian manpower in earlier times and still less about the ways the soldiers (especially infantrymen) were recruited and trained. It appears that the cavalry before Philip was primarily a force of aristocrats willing to act with the king. Hence numbers of Companions varied depending on circumstances. In 431 BCE,1 in the first year of the Peloponnesian War, 600 Macedonian cavalry in service of the usurpers Philip and Pausanias, supported by the Athenians, are mentioned. At the same time King Perdiccas II could field 200 horse against them (Thuc. 1.61.4, 62.3). Only a few years later in 423, Perdiccas, now allied with Spartan Brasidas, fought in Lyncestis. They 1 All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated.

© Jacek Rzepka, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_014

Recruitment and Training

265

had nearly 1,000 Macedonian and Chalcidian cavalry (Thuc. 4.124.1—we do not know the exact proportions between the two components). In the generation after the Peloponnesian War, in 382 King Amyntas II sent 400 outstanding cavalry to support Sparta fighting the Olynthians (Xen. Hell. 5.2.40; 3.2), which perhaps were not all his horsemen. The last of such low-profile totals of the Macedonian cavalry comes from the reign of Philip II. After heavy losses in the 360s Philip managed to gather about 600 horse in 359 (Diod. Sic. 16.4.3). Clearly, before Philip and Alexander the Macedonian cavalrymen were not a regular body with settled strength, but rather each time grouped members of social elite willing to support one or another of Macedonian royals (not necessarily the one who was that time the reigning king.) Macedonian infantry before Philip is even more elusive, and it has been argued that there was no standing foot army in Macedonia, at least for the most part of the fifth century2 or even until the military reform of Philip.3 We possess stronger and more coherent data first for the reigns of Philip and Alexander (and especially for the latter, as most authors dealing with the conquest provided us with numbers). This does not mean that the Macedonian manpower under Alexander is not debatable, since the numbers transmitted in Diodorus, Arrian, Curtius, Plutarch, and Justin are not identical (or rather are expressed in different formats, with focuses on various parts of Alexander’s army, and from differing perspectives). The references to the sizes of Philip’s armies are less generously transmitted by our sources on his reign, but one may say that a steady and systematic growth of the Macedonian kingdom’s manpower between 359 and 336 is traceable. 2

Armies of Philip and Alexander

In 359 Philip was able to field against Bardylis 10,000 infantry plus the already mentioned 600 horse (Diod. Sic. 16.4.3–4). For subsequent campaigns in Thessaly and the Sacred War we are informed about higher totals of warriors in Philip’s service, yet it is always difficult to decide how many of those soldiers were actually Macedonians and how many were his Thessalian subjects. Still, given a dramatic split of loyalties in Thessaly in the 350s, in the battle at the Crocus Field in 353/2 a significant majority of Philip’s 20,000 foot and 2 Sekunda (2010) 449. 3 Anson (2020) 48.

266

Rzepka

perhaps also a substantial portion of his 3,000 cavalry (Diod. Sic. 16.35.4–6) should have been Macedonian (admittedly Diodorus credits Philip’s victory to the Thessalian cavalry). As will be demonstrated in a subsequent survey of Alexander’s recruitment, the Macedonian conscriptions can be explained if one accepts the existence of the mobilization districts. Although no trace of the districts before Philip may be put forward here, one cannot confidently conclude that he was the first reformer of the Macedonian army’s recruitment. The initial creator of the districts must have been the same king who elevated Macedonian foot to the rank of the pezhetairoi—Foot Companions (cf. below). Still, the number of districts and their character in the 330s and 320s must have come from Philip’s reign. It is therefore tempting to think that the districts’ borders were not drawn on a traditional regional pattern. In 334 Alexander took with him 12,000 Macedonian foot soldiers and 1,800 cavalry, leaving another 12,000 foot and 1,500 horse with Antipater in Macedonia (Diod. Sic. 17.17.3–5.) In Asia, his expeditionary army was preceded by an advance force sent with Parmenion in 336, most likely a bit more numerous than 10,000 men, but perhaps not entirely Macedonian in composition.4 Certainly, in the beginnings of the expedition of Alexander the number of the Macedonians operating in Asia was slightly greater than the number of Philip’s forces in the battle of Chaeronea in 338 (there were 30,000 of both Macedonian and allied infantry at the battlefield of Chaeronea according to Diod. Sic. 16.85.6). It means that the conscription of Macedonian soldiers before the launch of the Persian campaign was highly ambitious and resulted in the integration of entire younger age-classes into expeditionary forces.5 In spite of warfare casualties (which should not, however, be overestimated6) and other losses the strength of the Macedonian troops in Alexander’s forces did not fall dramatically. In 323 the Macedonian infantry in Asia was still at least 18,000 strong.7 That hints at the scale of the reinforcement that made Macedonia a land deprived of citizen soldiers in the 320s (Diod. Sic. 18.12.2). Bosworth has argued that a great majority of the Macedonian infantry was brought from home before the end of 331, and in the 320s the influx of new recruits from the homeland nearly stopped.8 It is not easy to accept that conclusion, when one has in mind that Macedonia was deprived of citizen soldiers still in 323. An interruption of reinforcements already in 331 BCE would have meant that 4 Bosworth (1986) 115–16. 5 A significant share of younger soldiers in Alexander’s forces is implied by his decision to give recently married soldiers a procreation leave in 333 (Arr. Anab. 1.29.4). 6 For veracity of battle casualties reports, see Rzepka (2017) 169–76. 7 For the estimate, see Bosworth (1986) 117. 8 Bosworth (1986) 120.

Recruitment and Training

267

in 323 at least eight years of fresh recruits born between 348 and 340 were fully available. Rather, one has to assume that the way of reporting the military statistics of Alexander’s army to the public had changed and that this change also influenced historiographical accounts of the campaign.9 This implies that the authors of our sources on Alexander may not have possessed access to detailed reports of reinforcements (and the Macedonian conscription system) after the battle of Gaugamela or the sack of Persepolis at the latest.10 2.1 Conscription in Districts With regard to the military conscription in Late Argead Macedonia, we are on a bit firmer ground first with the epoch of Alexander III: ancient authors dealing with the conquests of Alexander provide some details of the internal structure of his forces. Of course, there is a risk of projecting a reality from the son’s reign on that of the father (and reciprocally). Still, there is a general belief that with due caution one can combine data, especially since the Macedonian military organization in the early years of Alexander must have been that of the later years of Philip—there was simple too little time to reform Philip’s system, whose efficiency had been demonstrated as outstanding in Greek conflicts of the 350s, 340s, and early 330s. Alexander indeed proved himself to be innovative, but his military reforms were introduced first after the decisive battle of Gaugamela (see below). The system of recruitment continued to hang on the districts, into which Philip II had divided the territory of the kingdom.11 Thus, each squadron (ile) of Companion Cavalry and each regiment (taxis) of Companion Infantry in Alexander’s expeditionary army was originally enrolled in one district. There is a problem with generally accepted numbers of ilai and taxeis in Alexander’s army prior to 331 as they seem not to correspond each other. Most would agree that there were seven squadrons of cavalry and six infantry regiments (plus horse and foot guards, both recruited in a different way).12 It has been also proposed that actually there were six squadrons of territorial cavalry corresponding 9

An important change in Alexander’s military reporting might coincide with the fall of Callisthenes, cf. Rzepka (2017) 175. 10 The numbers of reinforcements in Engels (1978) 148 (Table 4) refer to non-Macedonians only, and do not help to say anything about the working of the Macedonian conscription system in the 320s. 11 This does not mean that Philip was necessarily the first ruler who introduced conscription districts in Macedonia. It is obvious, however, that the organization we imagine for the reign of his son could not predate Philip’s conquests and the consolidation of Macedonia in the 350s and 340s. 12 E.g., Berve (1926) I 106; Brunt (1963) 27–46; Milns (1966) 167–68; Sekunda (2010) 442, or more recently Naiden (2021) 127.

268

Rzepka

with six infantry regiments. An uneven number of seven cavalry squadrons is attested for the battle of Gaugamela in 331. According to that attempt at agreeing numbers of basic territorial cavalry and infantry units, it is Arrian’s bizarre depiction of the Macedonian cavalry deployment at Gaugamela that leads to confusion (Arr. Anab. 3.11.8: “His right wing was held by the Companion cavalry, the royal squadron in the front; it was commanded by Cleitus son of Dropides; in successive order came those of Glaucias, Aristo, Sopolis son of Hermodorus, Heraclides son of Antiochus, Demetrius son of Althamenes, Meleager, and the last of the royal squadrons, that commanded by Hegelochus son of Hippostratus. The Companion cavalry as a whole was commanded by Philotas son of Parmenio,” trans. P. A. Brunt for LCL).13 From the point of view of terminology and prestige of the guard units there should have been one royal squadron only. Therefore, the last of the royal squadrons seems absurd, and the editors of Arrian bracketed basilikai—royal in the description of Hegelochus’ unit. Indeed, this passage in Arrian would be the only place in the entirety of Classical literature on Alexander and Macedonia with ilai basilikai appearing in the plural. Hammond and Bosworth both argued that all units of Companion Cavalry and Companion Infantry must have been royal (and might have been called royal non-technically), and therefore they accept that there were seven territorial ilai.14 Diodorus Siculus also has seven cavalry commands (hipparchiai) plus the royal squadron in his description of the battle of Gaugamela (Diod. Sic. 17.57.1)—there were certainly at that time seven units of cavalry along with the ile basilike. What may hinder an easy acceptance of seven territorial squadrons is Curtius, who does not provide the exact number of the cavalry units, yet has the squadron of Meleager last (in Arrian this is before-the-last), with no mention of Hegelochus’ problematic—and otherwise unattested—squadron (“On the right wing were placed the horsemen whom they call the body-guard; Clitus commanded these, and with them he joined squadrons of Philotas, and on its flank the rest of the commanders of the cavalry. Last stood the troop of Meleager, followed by the phalanx,” Curt. 4. 13, 26–27, J. C. Rolfe, LCL trans.). It has been furthermore suggested that the omission of Hegelochus in Curtius is not a mistake, but should be ascribed to Curtius’ awareness of extraordinary character of that unit, which may well have been a half of the royal squadron positioned on the opposite end of the Macedonian cavalry 13 Rzepka (2008). 14 Hammond (1991) 396–418; Bosworth (1997) 53 n. 20 (ascribing the very usage ilai basilikai to Arrian’s desire to find a stylistic variation to the Companions.) For more obvious view that there the was just one squadron singled out as royal; see, e.g., Cawkwell (1978) 32.

Recruitment and Training

269

line (it is almost certain that the royal squadron was double-size of regular Companion ilai). According to that reconstruction there were six squadrons of the Companions and six units of regiments of regular infantry in Alexander’s expedition army in the first years of his conquests.15 The sexpartite system of recruitment districts in Philip’s and Alexander’s Macedonia is also reflected by the figures we have for Macedonian reinforcements brought to Alexander shortly after the battle of Gaugamela under the command of Amyntas son of Andromenes. The actual size of Amyntas’ reinforcements was 6,000 foot and only 500 Macedonian horse (Diod. Sic. 17.65.1; Curt. 5.1.40–42). Curtius Rufus makes Amyntas insist in his plea after being charged with treason before the Macedonians that he brought 6,000 infantry and 600 cavalry from Macedonia (Curt. 7.1.40). The latter numbers reflect the ideal ratio between infantry and cavalry in most Greek recruitment systems, and perhaps come back to Alexander’s orders that could not have been fulfilled because of lesser availability of new cavalry in Macedonia. Also, Arrian appears to confirm that the recruitment was on a regional basis, saying that Amyntas’ soldiers were distributed in the units according to tribes (kat ethne, Arr. Anab. 3.16.10–11.)16 Thus Alexander must have ordered the enlistment of 1,000 new foot and 100 new horse in each of the recruitment districts at home. Despite all later adjustments of the command structure and army organization in Asia after 330, the recruitment system shaped under Philip II seems to have continued in Macedonia. The introduction of hipparchies, the creation of universal task forces consisting of Companion Cavalry, Companion Infantry, light horse and light foot, most likely did not revolutionize the system of districts at home, although new recruits were no longer incorporated into units on a regional basis.17 Also, the Macedonian reinforcements became less important for the efficiency of Alexander’s army, as the king now could easily enlist native recruits (which he did).18 2.2 Provision for Citizen Soldiers Unfortunately, no details of recruitment at the bottom level are known, at least for infantry. More can be hypothesized on the recruitment of cavalry. Here the Companions received land from the king in exchange for service. 15 Rzepka (2008). 16 N.B. the reinforcements of 333 were exactly half the size of the contingent of 331 (3,000 infantry and up to 300 Macedonian cavalry according to Arr. Anab. 1.29.4), and thus also dividable by six. 17 Bosworth (2010) 91–102. 18 Olbrycht (2011, 2018).

270

Rzepka

Theopompus claimed that the land allotments for 800 (or possibly 1,800) Macedonian Companions would have suffice to provide means for 10,000 Greeks of the highest status (Theopomp. BNJ 115 F 225b).19 It appears that grants to companions were not random, but a coherent system of land donations was created, as is illustrated by a grant of Kallindoia and neighboring villages to Macedonians by the king in 335 (SEG 36: 626). The Kallindoia grantees were clearly military colonists settled in a formerly Greek vicinity. It is impossible to determine with absolute certainty whether they were Horse or Foot Companions.20 Still, the very number of the subscribed grantees (thirty names in ll. 10–39) and their rather good-sounding Macedonian elite names may hint at the former. Existence of a similar system for infantry may be deduced from the fact that Philip and Alexander used to resettle people from one to another end of their kingdom more often (Just. Epit. 8.6.1). Clearly, an incentive in the case of such transplants had to be a substantial allotment of soil suitable for cultivation. Philip made landowners (and infantry companions) of many previously tenant or pastoral populations, thus making them co-responsible for the agricultural and economic growth of the country.21 The soldiers were remunerated for the entirety of active service after enrollment into units. One may learn from an Athenian-preserved copy of a (multilateral) treaty with Alexander that the king should provide to the hypaspist one drachma a day (IG II/III3 1, 443 from ca. 336). The payment of the fresh recruit might be about four obols (2/3 of a drachma) a day.22 The payment was probably delivered in monthly installments. The officers were paid significantly better, which can be deduced from the rules concerning enrollment of Asian recruits into the phalanx: each dekas of sixteen men had twelve Persians plus a dekadadarchos, his second-in-command called the “double-pay man” and two “ten-stater men.” The latter probably earned forty drachmas a month (Arr. Anab. 7.23.3), which was also the reference wage for mercenary officers.23

19 For a possible corruption of 1,800 to 800 in the manuscript tradition of Athenaeus, see Rzepka (2012) 131–35. 20 Or asthetairoi, on which see Anson (2010) 81–90. 21 For a discussion of Philip’s grant system and its efficiency, see Anson (2020) 75–80. 22 This is the military reference wage in Menander, Perikeiromene 381 (ed. Sandbach). The play was performed at Athens in 302/1, but it depicts the conditions of the highly globalized world in the generation after Alexander, much closer to his age than the period of the stabilized Hellenistic kingdoms. 23 Milns (1987) 233–56 based on Menander, Perikeiromene 382. See Wrightson and Meeus in this volume.

Recruitment and Training

271

2.3 Training The Macedonian army under Philip and Alexander became the most successful military of the Ancient World. To a great extent, the conquests of the Macedonian kings may be explained by the quality of the Macedonian soldier: a tactical genius would not achieve success without a well-trained army, so one tends to believe that there had to be a reform of military training under Philip. The groundbreaking character of Philip’s reforms is generally assumed, since we know nothing about the military drills in Macedonia prior to his reign. Hence, one tends to suspect that in earlier times cavalry owed its value to an aristocratic upbringing of boys on horseback24 and infantry remained mostly untrained. It is first with Philip we hear about a program of military training for the Macedonian infantry, but this could be just a sign of the amazement of ancient authors astonished by the sudden change in Macedonia’s fortunes from the 350s onwards. It cannot be excluded that there was a reform of the Macedonian military organization connected with the introduction of the Foot Companions prior to Philip’s reign. A highly debatable testimony of Anaximenes credits King Alexander with the creation of the Foot Companions (Anaximenes BNJ 72 F 4 with commentary of M. F. Williams).25 It is not certain whether the establishment of Foot Companions was paralleled by the invention and the introduction of the long pike (sarissa), yet that seems the most plausible scenario.26 Although we are not sure which son of Amyntas II should be credited with the major institutional reforms and technical improvements of the Macedonian infantry, it is Philip who first became famous for his program of military training among Greeks. Diodorus (16.3.1) says that Philip from the beginning of his reign held constant exercises of the men under arms and competitive drills. The same program must be referred to with more details in Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.10. 24

See Cawkwell (1978) 32: “neither Philip nor anyone else before him had any need to train Macedonians to ride; what he did in the way of training must have been to accustom them to ride in formation and despite the lack of stirrups more effectively to use their weapons.” Of course, there had to be some training of military horses, enabling animals to ride against close formation, see Willekes (2016) 187. 25 Whereas a majority of scholars tried to credit Alexander I or Alexander III with the establishment of the Foot Companions (and there was also an attempt to emend the name of the king to Philip), a compelling plea for Alexander II as the creator of the Foot Companions was made by Greenwalt (2017) 80–91 (there also a good survey of earlier scholarship on the theme). In regard to Cavalry Companions, a prevailing view is that they predated the introduction of the Foot Companions. 26 Hatzopoulos (1996) 268; Sekunda (2001) 22–30, (2008) 329 (slightly nuanced in Sekunda (2010) 447–51). There was an attempt to trace the sarissa in fifth-century material (coins of Alexander I); see Heinrichs and Müller (2008) 294–95.

272

Rzepka

There we hear that “Philip used to train the Macedonians before battles, making them take their arms and march for 300 stades (ca. thirty miles) carrying their helmets, shields, greaves, sarissas, plus—in addition to their arms—a stock of provisions and all the utensils necessary for daily life.” This is confirmed—from a slightly different angle—by Frontinus. The Roman author suggests that the infantry of Philip used to spend thirty days each summer training in military camps: in aestiva exeuntibus triginta dierum farinam collo portari imperavit (“When the troops marched out to summer quarters, he commanded each man to carry on his shoulders flour for thirty days,” Frontin. Str. 4.1.6). This may well refer to regular drills and exercises prior to military operations mentioned by Diodorus and Polyaenus. The training program had to include mass maneuvers with the sarissa as shown by the demonstration of sarissa tricks before Alexander’s attack on the Taulantians in 335 (Arr. Anab. 1.6.1–4). The ability to maneuver in packed units implied both technical training and enhancement of military orderliness. In general, in spite of some acts of insubordination or cases of mutiny, Philip’s and Alexander’s Macedonians appear to have been good and obedient soldiers in comparison to most contemporary Greek citizen armies. This might be explained by a lack of civic traditions in Macedonia, but also may be ascribed to training in orderliness started under Philip.27 Long marches and training of endurance were certainly Philip’s innovation, enhancing ability of his foot army to prevail during longer campaigns. It might be said that they very much contributed to Philip’s and Alexander’s successes in surprise attacks and outmaneuvering their enemies, and also during prolonged encounters like the battle of Chaeronea.28 As such, long marches were a measure improving the combat potential of the already conscripted soldiers, yet were perhaps less successful in developing the individual combat skills of the Macedonians. Diodorus asserts (after a much earlier source) that during the Theban revolt at the beginning of Alexander’s reign (335) the Macedonian soldier was still inferior to the Theban one “in bodily strength and in continuous training in the gymnasia” (Diod. Sic. 17.11.4: ταῖς τῶν σωμάτων ῥώμαις … καὶ τοῖς ἐν τοῖς γυμνασίοις συνεχέσιν ἀθλήμασιν, trans. author). It is difficult to harmonize this testimony of the Macedonians’ shortcomings in athletic training with the above opinion of Polyaenus about the Macedonians’ resilience at the battlefield of Chaeronea. Of those two authors, Diodorus seems to follow a less 27 Carney (1996/2015) 23–24; Brice (2015) 70. 28 Here the Macedonians continued to be in a relatively good condition owing to their training while the untrained Athenians started to be worn out—Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.7.

Recruitment and Training

273

predictable version of the story, while Polyaenus’ looks more stereotypical. Yet it is also possible that both are actually right, and Philip’s training very much enhanced warriors’ ability in prolonged fighting, while muscle-strength superiority, a trait visible in short encounters, was on the Greek side.29 It is clear that the main part of the training of the soldiers in marching endurance and maneuvers with arms took place in provisional camps (Frontinus’ aestiva) without any standing infrastructure for athletic or specifically military exercises. Obviously enough, recruits were expected to obtain some military skills (spear fighting, use of shields, projecting missiles) already prior to their enlistment. Therefore, one has to look for standing training facilities in Macedonia’s urban centers. In the cities of Classical Greece, the training of young citizens as future soldiers was very much organized in gymnasia from early days of citizen armies (for example, the Lyceum—Athens’ most prominent gymnasion—was supervised by archon polemarchos, [Arist.], Ath. Pol. 3.5). We actually know nothing about gymnasia in pre-Hellenistic Macedonia, and quite a lot about Macedonian gymnasia of the Antigonid period, including the discovery of the gymnasion law of Beroea (SEG 33:679) and of the ephebic law of Amphipolis (AEph 2015, 1–40) that envisaged military training of the ephebes. Unfortunately, information from Hellenistic sources cannot be simply extrapolated to earlier times.30 Diodorus’ unfavorable comparison of the Macedonians to Thebans may reflect a fact that the network of the gymnasia was underdeveloped in the Macedonia of Philip and Alexander, and consequently the Macedonian warriors lacked the physical strength of their southern Greek contemporaries. Some kind of military preparation of the Macedonian recruit prior to conscription is implied by immediate distribution of reinforcements between units during Alexander’s expedition (e.g., Arr. Anab. 3.16.11 on Amyntas’ reinforcements). During the expedition of Alexander his army enhanced its combat potential owing to real battle experience, thus becoming the most efficient conquest instrument of those days. Still, interludes in the fighting must have been filled 29

Nepos asserts that Epaminondas tried to convince the Boeotians to refocus their athletic training from developing muscle strength to focusing on speed. The latter he considered more suitable for war (Nep. Epam. 15.2.4; cf. 15.5.1.) The same tradition on Epaminondas is reflected also in Plut. Mor. 192c–d. Perhaps the tradition of the muscular hoplite persisted at Thebes in spite of Epaminondas’ efforts to make the Thebans lighter. 30 Admittedly, Corrhagus’ duel with Dioxippus (Curt. 9.7.16–26; for the whole episode and its significance for highlighting differences between Macedonian and Greek training, see below) implies some training in individual use of spear, similar to that envisaged for the Hellenistic-era ephebes.

274

Rzepka

by drills and training. There was a custom to organize athletic and hippic games for the Macedonian army, perhaps in more relaxed periods after major successful actions. Christian Mann identifies sixteen cases of games (agones) during the reign of Alexander.31 In spite of previously noted opinions about different focuses of athletic and military training, those campaign agones clearly served the purpose of military training.32 It should be assumed that the hippic part of Alexander’s campaign games consisted basically of horseback contests, not of chariot races. A further question is whether the athletic part of Alexander’s agones included all events known from the Olympic and panhellenic program (so four running races, three combat contests plus pentathlon). Perhaps there was more focus on light athletic training and running competitions in the Macedonian drilling system, while combat sports were treated with much less respect. At least, this may be inferred from a story of rivalry between the Macedonian Corrhagus33 and the Athenian pancratiast Dioxippus, a celebrity of those days due to his Olympic success and a long series of other victories.34 Corrhagus, who challenged Dioxippus to single combat, presented himself to duel in full armor, only to be defeated by his rival fighting naked with a Herculean club (Diod. Sic. 17.100.1–101.6; Curt. 9.7.16–26). Although Diodorus and Curtius in their dramatized accounts underscore the swiftness of Dioxippus, his Heracles-like style hints otherwise at strength and overpowering weight of muscle. In spite of theatrical elements, one should accept the main threads of the Corrhagus-Dioxippus’ episode. We should acknowledge that for the Greeks the victory of Dioxippus played a pride- or identity-building role in the first decades of Macedonia’s supremacy in the Greek world.35 While the story of the duel stressed Greek preeminence in combat sports, it may also mirror lesser emphasis on gymnasium-trained heavy-athletic combat sports in Macedonia (except perhaps for amateur wrestling fights in the palace palaistrai of the kings, like Philip’s training with Menegetes mentioned in Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.6). In fact, most of the known Macedonian victors of the Olympics were royals succeeding in equestrian competitions (leaving aside Herodotus’ account of Alexander I’s participation in the sprint). All other Macedonian winners of the panhellenic athletics events known to us were sprinters.36 Of course, in our 31 32 33 34 35 36

Mann (2020) 103–104. Adams (2003) 211; also accepted by Mann (2020) 110. Heckel (2006) 94. Heckel (2006) 115. Baynham (2007) 427–28. Kliton in 328: Moretti (1957), no. 463; Damasias of Amphipolis in 320: Moretti (1957), no. 473; Antigonos in 292 and 288: Moretti 1957, no. 527, 533; Seleukos in 268: Moretti 1957, no. 543.

Recruitment and Training

275

evidence stadium-runners are overrepresented due to their eponymous role in the Olympic chronologies, yet it is striking that we have no trace of Macedonian top wrestlers or boxers, while we hear about many victors of hippic events. In comparable records for communities of old Classical Greece there was much more balance between all branches of competitive sport. Hence, one may confidently assume that combat-sports training did not play a great role in the civic and military education of young Macedonians. Thus, we have to be satisfied with a conclusion that the pre-season exercises and marches of Philip’s reign were transformed into an important element of the expeditionary army’s training under Alexander, regularly repeated during the breaks in fighting. There had to be a degree of essential military training before a soldier was enlisted, as shown by the fact that the reinforcement freshmen could be distributed among units and sent to fight almost immediately. The details of that training remain, however, very much hypothetical. Works Cited Adams, W. L. (2003) “Other People’s Games: The Olympics, Macedonia and Greek Athletics.” Journal of Sport History 30: 205–17. Alonso Troncoso, V. and Anson, E. M. (eds) (2013) After Alexander: The Time of the Diadochi (323–281 BC). Oxford. Anson, E. M. (2010) “The Asthetairoi—Macedonia’s Hoplites,” in Carney and Ogden (2010) 81–90. Anson, E. M. (2020) Philip II. The Father of Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues. London. Baynham, E. (2007) “Quintus Curtius Rufus on the ‘Good King:’ The Dioxippus Episode in Book 9.7.16–26,” in Marincola (2007) 427–33. Berve, H. (1926) Das Alexanderreich auf prosopographischer Grundlage I–II. Munich. Bosworth, A. B. (1986) “Macedonian Manpower under Alexander the Great.” Ancient Macedonia 4: 115–22. Bosworth, A. B. (1997) “A Cut Too Many? Occam’s Razor and Alexander’s Footguard.” AHB 11: 47–56. Bosworth, A. B. (2010) “The Argeads and the Phalanx,” in Carney and Ogden (2010) 91–102. Brice, L. L. (2015) “Military Unrest in the Age of Philip and Alexander of Macedon: Defining the Terms of Debate,” in Howe et al. (2015) 69–76. Brunt, P. A. (1963) “Alexander’s Macedonian Cavalry.” JHS 83: 27–46. Carney, E. D. (1996/2015) “Macedonians and Mutiny: Discipline and Indiscipline in the Army of Philip and Alexander.” CPh 91: 19–44; republished with new “Afterword” in Carney (2015) 27–59.

276

Rzepka

Carney, E. D. and Ogden, D. (eds) (2010) Philip II and Alexander the Great: Father and Son, Lives and Afterlives. Oxford. Cawkwell, G. (1978) Philip of Macedon. London. Engels, D. (1978) Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army. Berkeley. Greenwalt, W. (2017) “Alexander II of Macedonia in Ancient Historiography on War and Empire,” in Howe et al. (2017) 80–91. Guimier-Sorbets, A.-M., Hatzopoulos, M. B., and Morizot, Y. (eds) (2006) Rois, cités, nécropoles: Institutions, rites et monuments en Macédoine. Paris. Hammond, N. G. L. (1991) “The Various Guards of Philip II and Alexander III.” Historia 40: 396–418. Hatzopoulos, M. B. (1996) Macedonian Institutions under the Kings, Vol. 1. Athens. Heckel, W., Naiden, F. S., Garvin, E. E., and Vaderspoel, J. (eds) (2021) A Companion to Greek Warfare. Hoboken, NJ. Heinrichs J. and Müller, S. (2008) “Ein persisches Statussymbol auf Münzen Alexanders I. von Makedonien: Ikonographie und historischer Hintergrund des Tetrobols SNG ABC, Macedonia I, 7 und 11.” ZPE 167: 283–309. Howe, T., Garvin, E. E., and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2015) Greece, Macedon and Persia: Studies in Social, Political and Military History in Honour of Waldemar Heckel. Oxford. Howe, T., Müller, S., and Stoneman, R. (eds) (2017) Ancient Historiography on War and Empire. Oxford. Mann, C. (2020) “Campaign agones: Towards a Classification of Greek Athletic Competitions.” C&M 68: 99–117. Marincola, J. (ed) (2007) A Companion to Greek and Roman Historiography. Malden, MA. Milns, R. D. (1966) “Alexander’s Macedonian Cavalry and Diodorus 17.17.4.” JHS 86: 167–68. Milns, R. D. (1987) “Army Pay and the Military Budget of Alexander the Great,” in Will and Heinrichs (1987) 1: 233–56. Moretti, L. (1957) Olympionikai, i vincitori negli antichi Agoni Olimpici. Rome. Naiden, F. S. (2021) “The Organization of Greek Armies,” in Heckel et al. (2021) 119–36. Olbrycht, M. (2011) “First Iranian Units in the Army of Alexander the Great.” ANABASIS: Studia Classica et Orientalia 2: 67–84. Olbrycht, M. (2018) “Alexander the Great in Sittakene and the Reorganization of his Army (331 B.C.).” ANABASIS: Studia Classica et Orientalia 9: 80–92. Roisman J. and Worthington, I. (eds) (2010) A Companion to Ancient Macedonia. Malden. Rzepka, J. (2008) “The Units in the Army of Alexander the Great and the District Divisions of Late Argead Macedonia.” GRBS 48: 39–56. Rzepka, J. (2012) “How Many Companions did Philip II Have?” ELECTRUM 19: 131–35.

Recruitment and Training

277

Rzepka, J. (2017) “The Casualty Figures of Alexander’s Army,” in Howe et al. (2017) 169–76. Sekunda, N. V. (2001) “The Sarissa.” Acta Universitatis Lodziensis, Folia Archaeologica 23: 22–30. Sekunda, N. V. (2008) “Military Forces. A. Land Forces,” in CHGRW 1: 325–57. Sekunda, N. V. (2010) “The Macedonian Army,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 446–71. Will, W. and Heinrichs, J. (eds) (1987) Zu Alexander d.Gr. Festschrift G. Wirth zum 60. Geburtstag am 9.12.86, Vol. 1. Amsterdam. Willekes, C. (2016) The Horse in the Ancient World: From Bucephalus to the Hippodrome. London.

Part 4 Maintenance

∵

Chapter 13

Food and Conquest: Getting beyond Engels James Lacey For over forty years past Donald W. Engels’ Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army has been the final word on the logistics supporting Alexander’s invasion of the Persian Empire.1 In fact, there was some discussion as to whether this chapter was even necessary. After all, what was there left to say on the topic? On starting out, I shared this concern. But after rereading Engels’ work, I am convinced that there is much left to say. For instance, Engels, despite repeatedly detailing the vast consumption rates of Alexander’s army, never truly explains how Alexander’s quartermasters actually accomplished their task. Only in the last generation or so have military historians started writing about logistics as a key element in campaigns. In fact, J. F. C. Fuller, in his otherwise masterful The Generalship of Alexander the Great, never troubles himself to address the problem.2 Admittedly, in the case of Alexander, the source material is rather limited, as the Vulgate works give the topic scant attention. More crucially, the subject has been largely neglected because historians find researching and writing about logistics tedious, particularly when compared with the opportunity to enthrall readers with epic tales of sweeping grand maneuvers and battlefield carnage.3 Still, as Napoleon reminds us, an army travels on its stomach. So while historians may have been able to mostly neglect logistics, it occupies nearly every waking moment of a military commander at war. This was personally brought home to me when, in 2003, I was sitting outside Najaf—fifteen miles from ancient Babylon—looking at the highway that was the major invasion route for the American army in 2003. Somewhere, a few miles ahead, the tanks and infantry, taking only what they could carry, were engaged with the Iraqi army, but for as far as the eye could see along the highway were supply trucks filled to capacity. It was a modern-day baggage train without which no army could subsist for more than a few days. It was as it ever was. 1 Engels (1978). See also Brice (2023) 417–20. All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated. 2 Fuller (1960). 3 See however the recent volume, Donahue and Brice (2023).

© James Lacey, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_015

282 1

Lacey

Moving Away from Engels

Before explaining how Alexander sustained his army, I believe it is important to briefly explain where Engels went wrong. We can start with what appears to be a minor issue, but one that, over time, will have a huge impact on the army’s rate of march. Engels claims that as horses, mules and camels will only graze during the day—when the army is on the march—the entire force would have to stop every several days to let the baggage animals graze.4 The problem is that this is a myth: pack animals will graze at any time of the day or night. So, when the army halted for the night, the animals could graze for several hours, speeding the overall advance by twenty-five percent or more. Other problems are more a matter of emphasis. For instance, Engels informs us that during the seven-month siege of Tyre the Macedonian army required 28,172 tons of food to sustain itself. He then goes on to say that the coastal plain around Tyre is only thirteen square miles and was therefore capable of producing only 2,080 tons of food a year.5 There are several problems here. The first—Engels’ overreliance on British Naval Intelligence regional studies completed in the in the first half of the twentieth century—makes much of his analysis useless. Engels mistakenly believes this previously untapped source reflects a Mesopotamia, Anatolia, and Persia largely untouched by modern transport and agricultural methods.6 For a start this misses the fact that most of the Persian Empire was producing at least four times more produce per acre than it was in the early decades of the twentieth century. Only, around 1200 CE did the accretion of salinity caused by irrigation begin to wreak havoc with agricultural productivity throughout the former Persian Empire.7 Thus, rather than make do with a mere 2,080 tons of foods available around Tyre, 4 Engels (1978) 29. 5 Engels (1978) 55. 6 Almost all of these Naval Intelligence studies are now online and can be easily accessed by anyone interested in viewing them. It is hard to see what value any of them have in relation to studying ancient logistics, except to gather a few quotes. They certainly do not reflect the environment Alexander was operating within. For instance, the Anatolian Plain never recovered from the destruction the Ottomans inflicted in the years after the Battle of Manzikert (1071). That much of the region was given over to pastural activities when the British Studies were completed does not come close to the Achaemenid reality of intensive farming based on an eon of extensive irrigation development. See http://onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/web bin/book/lookupname?key=Great%20Britain.%20Naval%20Intelligence%20Division and https://archive.org/details/handbookofasiami01greauoft/page/278/mode/2up. 7 Jacobsen and Adams (1958) 1251–58. There is evidence that earlier soil salination (2400–177 BCE) played a large role in the collapse of early Mesopotamian civilizations, such as UR, and helped more northern cities, such as Babylon, gain political predominance over the regions.

Food and Conquest: Getting beyond Engels

283

Alexander could likely count on close to 10,000 tons—more than a third of his total requirement. Moreover, as the siege engines were readied, Arrian tells us that Alexander advanced inland on a ten-day expedition, in which “he captured a number of places” (Arr. Anab. 2.20.5). Even an advance of a mere ten miles in width would have placed a minimum of another 100 square miles under Alexander’s control. As Arrian makes clear, he advanced into settled areas, and one may assume he did so to capture all of the nearby fertile ground. That alone would have given Alexander access to a multiple of his total grain requirement.8 And that does not even count local stored grain reserves. This is a crucial point, as the ancient gods were capricious, and every villager knew that a few years of drought could easily wipe out a society or even a civilization, unless sizable reserves were kept readily available. We can find this concern in the Bible when Joseph, during the seven years of plenty, collected all of Egypt’s excess food and stored it in the cities (Gen. 41:48–49). In truth, the ancients did not need a Joseph to tell them to store grain for a dry day; they did so as a matter of course. The question then is, how much grain could Alexander expect to find in the local area? An early twentieth-century survey of just a single storage cluster in the province of Philistia—encompassing much of the area Alexander’s army would march through between Tyre and Gaza—found that “large quantities of silos, granaries and storehouses can be found in Tel el-Hesi, Tel Gammah, and Tel Sera … granaries at just Tel Gammah could have held enough grain to feed an army of 35,000 for two months.” The expedition’s lead further stated that if one “included all of the destroyed and still unexcavated granaries they could have fed and army of 70,000 for two months.”9 This huge stock of reserves still does not include that amount of grain Alexander would have found along the coast. As the Phoenicians, who populated the coastal cities, were renowned as traders, one would expect them to have large warehouses filled with grain ready for shipment throughout the Mediterranean. The archaeological record does, in fact, reveal this, as the Persian provinces of Phoenicia are dotted with the remains of clusters of storehouses, all of which were likely emptied by Alexander’s army as it marched through the region. Keep in mind that we are only talking about the grain reserves that were along Alexander’s march route. If more was required, foragers would not have to travel far to discover further sources of ready supply.

8 Echeverría (2023) 64–65, 76–80 for discussion of grain and sustenance requirements for Greek soldiers. 9 Bang (2013) 388–404. This article discusses the finding explained in, Petrie (1928) 8–9.

284

Lacey

Engels also gives short shrift to the capacity of the Macedonian baggage train that was certainly advancing with the army. Engels grossly underestimates the size of Alexander’s baggage train, making much of ancient commentaries about Philip’s reduction of his trains to increase the marching speed of his columns.10 This reduction may have been fine for Philip, who was mostly launching rapid attacks on nearby Greek city states or barbarian tribes along his borders. By shedding much of his baggage train, Philip, in just a few days of hard marching, could have his elite troops atop an enemy’s field army or before a city’s walls before his opponent even knew the Macedonians were on the march. Once he had his victory, Philip could feed and resupply his army at his enemy’s expense. Such arrangements, however, are useless for a large force planning to march from the Granicus to the Indus river. Just as today the United States can rapidly deploy the Marine Corps or the 82nd Airborne Division to global crisis areas, but light forces then and now cannot sustain themselves for very long. In a very short amount of time these troops have to plug into a much larger logistical infrastructure or wither away. Similarly, elite forces like the US Army’s ranger battalions can be sent out, away from the main body on rapid raids or to seize key points, as Alexander was continually doing with his Companion Cavalry, Hypaspists, and Agrianians, but neither the American Rangers nor Alexander’s fast-moving elite troops could last very long unless they could regularly resupply themselves from larger bases. In short, any major ancient army conducting a prolonged campaign outside of its home territory requires a baggage train of formidable size. Engels, again extrapolating Philip’s greater reliance on pack animals over oxen-drawn carts, has Alexander doing the same in his march into Persia. Once again, pack animals may have been the superior choice in mountainous Greece and to support Philip’s lightning campaigns, but that option makes little sense for Alexander. By the time Alexander marched, the Persian Empire had existed for almost 200 years. During that time, vast sums had been spent on extensive road systems, whose extent went far beyond the single royal road between Susa and Sardis that Herodotus described at great length (Hdt. 5.52–53). But as the Persepolis Fortification Archive makes clear, the Susa-Sardis road was just one section of a major centrally supported road system that linked all of Persia’s major cities, providing the arteries upon which much of Persia’s trade traveled, as well as the information (messages) needed to control a vast empire.11 This 10 Engels (1978) 14–15. Cf. Devine (1979) 273; Cawkwell (1980) 245; Hammond (1980, 1983a); Brice (2023) 417–18 and nn. 23–24. 11 Briant (2012); Henkelman and Jacobs (2021); Hassan (2021) 1157–58. For more detailed information on the Fortification Archive start here: https://oi.uchicago.edu/research/ projects/persepolis-fortification-archive.

Food and Conquest: Getting beyond Engels

285

centrally administered system does not include the roads that local satraps or cities would have maintained independent of royal subsidies. As all of these roads were designed to facilitate travel by cart, Alexander would have been a fool to have forgone the benefits of a cart- or wagon-centered baggage train. Engels claims that Alexander got by without carts because he loaded his soldiers down with supplies they would consume on the march, comparing them to “Marius’ mules” in reference to the Marian reforms of the Roman army. This is also nonsense. Marius may have been able to load up his men for quick marches within Italy or from a logistical base to which he planned to rapidly return. But Rome’s empire was not conquered by heavily burdened soldiers. Rather, once they arrived in a region, the legions’ staying power was based on the construction of major logistical bases, which were then linked to the Roman road network. Like Marius, Philip may have been able to load his men like mules for the kind of wars he fought in his strictly confined area of operations, but neither man ever tried such methods on an extended campaign. If Alexander had employed such methods on a multi-year campaign traversing thousands of miles, the result would have been a disaster. If, once again, we switch to a modern analogy, US Army Ranger battalions often go out for short missions with soldiers carrying 120lbs or more. But even these elite forces cannot not sustain such levels of exertion for more than a couple of weeks of hard marching, at which point they need to be pulled from the field and rested. Any general trying to march a large army for several thousand miles with the troops loaded in the manner Engels describes would find them exhausted and unfit for combat within days. Within in weeks he would be facing a mutiny.12 2

Alexander’s Logistical Arrangements

Philip’s logistical arrangements were specifically designed for the conditions of a particular location—the Balkans. Alexander faced a very different situation, which required different arrangements. We will come back to how this was accomplished in a bit, but first we need to return to Tyre. What if Alexander, in a frenzy of logistical carelessness, arrived in front of Tyre with no baggage train, and moreover, because he was singularly focused on preparing the siege, 12

I am going to take a moment to discuss this in terms of personal experience. I spent close to a decade in light infantry organizations, and have spent countless days road-marching with a heavy rucksack on my back. In my 20s and in the best shape of my life I could carry a 70lbs pack for twenty miles a day for several days in row, then I was spent. I knew a few soldiers who could march further with more weight, but they were not many, and even they had their limits. From personal experience, no army ever raised could do what Engels claims for Alexander’s forces and remain a cohesive fighting force.

286

Lacey

decided to prioritize siege operations and leave the huge bounty of foodstuffs stored within a few days march untouched? How could he now get the 28,172 tons of food his army needed to survive? Here, we have another problem with Engels, despite the numerous calculations in his book: whenever he gets to a number that appears to be an insurmountable logistical feat, he fails to discuss how it could be accomplished. In this case, he rules out foraging, and carrying the food overland, while saying the fleet could possibly have delivered “some” supplies. As Alexander was not a fool, how did he overcome what Engels paints as an insurmountable problem? Well, we know that 400-ton trading ships, although at the top end of the scale during the period, were quite plentiful along the Mediterranean trading routes. Simple math tells us that the entire 28,172 tons could have been carried in just seventy such ships. Moreover, this requirement would have been spread over the entire seven-month siege. That means Alexander needed only ten ships a month, or a single ship every three days. Does anyone believe that a single ship every three days is anywhere near an insurmountable problem? Similarly, if Alexander, in his eleven-day march from Tyre to Gaza, decided to forgo the storehouses mentioned above, as well as the trading warehouses along the coast, how hard would it be for the navy to supply the nearly 1,600 tons his army needed? Once again, simple math comes to our rescue. Alexander would have needed four cargo ships to supply his army, and if water supplies were also limited, he would have needed another dozen ships to carry the required 4,500 tons of water. But that assumes Alexander had done nothing to ensure there were water stations along his route and had failed to load his baggage train with water. The two-month siege of Gaza would have required six supply ships a week, assuming they also needed to carry water. A single supply ship each day is hardly an insurmountable logistical problem. Engels also makes much of the difficulties in crossing the Sinai, only to conclude: “Notably, the march passed without incident, and Alexander covered the 137 miles in only seven days.”13 Of course, it passed without incident: with his fleet traveling alongside him, the Sinai does not present much of an obstacle. Besides, Alexander was likely traveling in October, and contrary to what Engels claims, that is the Sinai’s second rainiest month of the year.14 Supplying whatever part of his army Alexander took into Egypt would have been no problem, as the area was already the great breadbasket of the 13 Engels (1978) 60. 14 https://weather-and-climate.com/average-monthly-Rainfall-Temperature-Sunshine,taba -south-sinai-eg,Egypt.

Food and Conquest: Getting beyond Engels

287

Mediterranean. Further, the Egyptians were just as conscientious about storing grain reserves as the Persians.15 Alexander’s next great logistical challenge, therefore, was supporting his army’s march into the heartland of the Persian Empire. That he took this seriously is attested to by his firing the satrap of Syria—Arimmas—because he was thought not have pushed preparations forward with enough vigor (Arr. Anab. 3.6.8). But having not completed the preparations does not mean nothing was done, nor does it mean Alexander began his march before his logistical support was up to the task. For him to do so would have been folly, and the fact that he left Egypt at the start of spring and did not reach the Euphrates until possibly August indicates that he must have tarried to complete such preparations (Arr. Anab. 3.6.1 and 3.7.1). Of course, these arrangements centered on the army’s logistical concerns, particularly the creation of a baggage train. That he had one is certain, as before the Battle of Gaugamela, Arrian tells us he decided to leave most of his baggage train and wounded at least a few days march from the battlefield (Arr. Anab. 3.9.1). Despite this, he still brought enough of the train to the battlefield to make it worth pillaging (Arr. Anab. 3.14.4–6). Coming back to Engels’ assertion that the Macedonian baggage train was not very large, and mostly consisted of mules, porters, and the soldiers themselves, it might be instructive to examine an example close to our own time. In 1864, General William T. Sherman broke free of his ties to the railroads to march his army from Atlanta to the sea. His march of 285 miles was virtually the same distance as Alexander marched to Gaugamela (276 miles). Moreover, his army of 60,000 men approximated the size of Alexander’s force. A popular myth persists that Sherman’s army lived off the land during its march. And while Sherman definitely planned to make the most of the southern states’ agricultural bounty, he knew that gathering food on the march was always a difficult and haphazard affair. So, despite employing the census maps of 1860, which told him exactly where the most productive farms were and the location of every storage facility in the south, Sherman still ordered his quartermaster troops to ensure they had on-hand 1,500,000 rations of bread and an additional 500,000 rations of salt meat. As he had limited the army to 200 rounds of ammunition per man, and the soldiers would carry a quarter of that supply, the number of wagons needed to carry munitions was minimal. Despite this, when Sherman’s army began its march, it was followed by 2,500 wagons with a twenty-day supply of bread, as well as three days of animal feed. Also trailing the infantry columns were 5,000 cattle, representing a forty-day beef supply. This massive train stretched for twenty miles behind the 15 Bardoňová (2019).

288

Lacey

army’s six advancing columns, and does not even include regimental wagons, which typically carried another fifteen days of hard-tack. Sherman marched with the hand-picked best troops in the western armies, leaving tens of thousands of soldiers who might not be up to the exertions of the march behind in Atlanta. Is it really feasible that Alexander did significantly better in reducing his logistical requirements? But even if we assume Alexander did better by half than the ruthless Sherman, that still meant his army was still saddled with over a thousand carts and wagons. In fact, given the smaller carrying capacity of ancient wagons, their inferior yokes, and smaller animals, Alexander likely needed as many wagons as Sherman to carry half as much food. If the Cyropaedia can be believed, a typical wagon used by the Persians could carry twenty-five talents—a bit less than 1,500lbs. That means Alexander would need close to 200 wagons to carry a single day’s worth of grain (Xen. Cyr. 6.1.54). It also means a twenty-day march required over 3,500 wagons. But this is based on two assumptions: that the wagons could not be replenished along the route, and that Engels is correct about the animals eating from their own loads, on a daily basis, rather than foraging. Both of these assumptions are almost certainly incorrect. We have already seen that there were plenty of opportunities to graze the animals as the army advanced; we will also discover that replenishing empty wagons was often a relatively easy affair. Taken together, these points allowed Alexander to hugely reduce the total size of his baggage train. Still, given the size of the army and that force’s minimal requirements, it is hard to see how he could have got it much below 2,000 wagons. It is possible that many of these wagons were owned and managed by private contractors (sutlers) who would charge the soldiers for much of their foodstuffs, but this does nothing to decrease the size of the train.16 A remaining question is how Alexander replenished his siege train. For Sherman the answer was easy: when he got to Savannah the Union fleet was waiting with thousands of tons of supplies. Alexander, however, would have to replenish from his line of march. Rarely would an invading army have it so easy. Not until the barbarians began to overrun Rome would an invader be able to take advantage of an already completed road network, with plentiful fields all along the route, as well as regular storehouses. Logistical necessity made it necessary for Alexander to follow the Persian system of royal roads, which had the added benefit that these roads led directly to and then through the economic heartland of the empire. 16 This would explain how the soldiers accumulated such a huge debt—between 10,000 and 20,000 talents—that Alexander had to pay it off for them (Arr. Anab. 7.51–3 and Curt. 10.2.8–12). On the debt, see also Meeus in this volume.

Food and Conquest: Getting beyond Engels

289

So, let us assume that Alexander’s rapid march to Gaugamela had almost emptied his wagons, as well as all of the food being carried by men and beasts. He is unlikely to have been able to replenish it from surrounding area, as Darius’ huge army would have eaten everything for at least twenty miles in every direction as it sat waiting for the Macedonians to arrive. Arrian informs us that after the battle Darius expected Alexander to head for Babylon: “For the road to Babylon was inhabited from beginning to end and was not impassable to pack animals …” (Arr. Anab. 3.16.2). And this is, in fact, exactly what Alexander, bowing to the gods of logistics, did. For a glimpse of what was available we can turn to Herodotus: There are many proofs of the wealth of Babylon, but this in especial. All the land ruled by the great King is parceled out for the provisioning of himself and his army, besides that it pays tribute: now the territory of Babylon feeds him for four out of the twelve months in the year, the whole of the rest of Asia providing for the other eight. Thus, the wealth of Assyria is one third of the whole wealth of Asia. The governorship, which the Persians call satrapy, of this land is by far the greatest of all the governorships; seeing that the daily revenue of Tritantaechmes son of Artabazus, governing this province by the king’s will, was an artaba full of silver and besides war chargers he had in his stables eight hundred stallions, and sixteen thousand brood mares, each stallion serving twenty mares.17 In Babylon, Alexander would have found not only plentiful supplies of food, but as Herodotus’ above quote makes clear he could also easily replenish his stock of horses, and one can assume there were plentiful beasts of burden to replace those already breaking down after the long march.18 This is, in fact, another major problem with Engels’ analysis. He assumes that the army could only march for four days before the pack animals would have eaten everything they could carry. In practice, this is not how it works. The pack animals would have been allowed to forage at nearly every stop, meaning they would not have had to consume any of the load they were carrying. Also, as food was consumed the animals would have been given fresh loads from the stocks found along the 17 Hdt. 1.192. An Artaba is a Persian measurement. 18 Even today, in an Iraq full of autos and trucks, one still sees hundreds of beasts of burden in every village, town, and to a surprising degree even in major cities. One must assume that during a time when such animals were the only mode of transport, they must have been even more plentiful.

290

Lacey

roads. Finally, as animals broke down, they would have been left along the road of march and replaced by local requisitions from the plentiful stock of animals along the Persian road system.19 But was Babylon an exceptional case? According to historian Josef Wiesehöfer, “We are quite well informed about Persian war tactics. The forces kept a baggage-train with them and supplied themselves from storehouses along the imperial roads.”20 As further attested by the Fortification Tablets, there were a huge number of rest-houses and storage facilities along all of the royal roads in which official travelers were entitled to draw food and replace their animals. All of this would have been available to Alexander’s army as it marched. Moreover, he would have had access to the vast storehouses maintained to feed the permanent armies maintained by the satraps, as well as those of Darius’ permanent forces.21 Already, we are talking about a huge quantity of food, and we have not even accounted for the storage of surplus food by every community in Persia. If one also keeps in mind the huge investment in irrigation made throughout the empire, coupled with nearly two centuries of peace within the empire’s heartland, Alexander must have been walking through the most productive farms in the world. The impact of this “long peace” should not be underestimated. For, when a region is constantly at war there is a great reluctance to invest in new mills, barns, storehouses, canals, dams, wells, etc., which will all be destroyed when the next invading force marches through. Even when such infrastructure is rebuilt it does not increase productivity, but only returns the region to its pre-conflict status. But a lengthy peace encourages ever greater amounts of investment in agricultural infrastructure, as it did during the Pax Romana and as the archaeological record demonstrates in Achaemenid Persia. All of this tremendous bounty lay directly along Alexander’s path. In fact, the best chance the Persians had of halting Alexander’s invasion was to create a wasteland in front of his advance. Such a course had reportedly been urged by Memnon of Rhodes early in the campaign. Before the Battle of Granicus, Arrian tells us that “He advised them [the assembled Persian satraps] to march ahead, destroying the grazing land by trampling it with the cavalry, and burn the standing harvest, not even sparing the cities themselves; Alexander would not long remain in a country, he said, if provisions were scarce” (Arr. Anab. 1.12.9). With Memnon’s death the following year there does not appear to have been any further consideration of laying waste to the 19 Hammond (1980) 256–57. 20 Wiesehöfer (2001) 93. 21 Briant (2012); Henkelman and Jacobs (2021); Hassan (2021) 1157–58.

Food and Conquest: Getting beyond Engels

291

lands along Alexander’s path. Astonishingly, the exact opposite took place. Tyre and Gaza stand out as exception to a general rule in which almost every major city and town surrendered and offered their riches for Alexander’s use. We are pretty much in the dark as to the diplomacy that went on to secure such submission, but as to its effectiveness there is no doubt. It is no exaggeration to say that the Persian administrative structure was put at the disposal of Alexander, and that it was mostly the Persians themselves who made sure the Macedonian quartermasters were able to easily replenish their supplies. Similarly, when Alexander carried the campaign into Bactria and Sogdiana he followed the same pattern. Virtually every city surrendered to him and the few that did not—Bactra and Aornus—were taken by rapid assault. In fact, Bessus, who had murdered and replaced Darius, was handed over by the local rebels as proof of their submission. Only when the Sogdians revolted, likely because Alexander’s building of a new administrative center—Alexandria-Eschate—indicated that he was going to take a more direct role in Sogdian affairs than the Persian rulers had done, did Alexander face difficulties. For almost two years Alexander waged a guerrilla war where the outcome, for each side, rested upon logistics. By splitting his army into smaller detachments, each anchored upon a fortified city (logistical base), Alexander was able to send out forces to systematically raze his opponents’ towns and villages. His own forces were always able to fall back on their protected bases, which were always situated in the midst of agricultural plenty, while the Sogdians were pushed into an increasingly barren hinterland. Even when his forces were in trouble, food could be sent from the bases to restore their fighting capacity. In one famous case, a local noble, Sisimithres, drove “a large number of pack animals and 2,000 camels, plus flocks of sheep and herds of cattle” to Alexanders starving force. After Alexander’s men had eaten their fill and packed six days of cooked food, he headed to Sacae, where he ravaged their lands and from the spoils gifted Sisimithres 30,000 head of cattle (Curt. 8.4.18–20). The only great logistical mistake Alexander made was at the end of his Indian campaigns when, rather than returning along the Royal Road system, he led a portion of the army across the Gedrosia desert. Again, there are major problems with Engels’ account. First, he fabricates a force of 87,000 infantry, 18,000 cavalry, and 52,000 non-combatants that is not corroborated by any source. As Alexander was marching with only a portion of his army, a force depleted by heavy fighting in India, he likely had at most 20,000 infantry, and may have taken only a small number of cavalry, as their water requirements for horses would be ten times a man’s. Moreover, Engels claims that food was placed aboard the fleet to support the Army’s march. This, however, is the

292

Lacey

exact opposite of the ancient sources that claim Alexander planned to supply the fleet from stocks his army was carrying. What is clear is that Alexander made exhaustive logistical arrangements for the ill-considered march, but he had miscalculated. But not by much. Although the march was likely the most wretched the army had endured, I agree with A. B. Bosworth in that it was not a military disaster, as nearly 18,000 infantry assembled at Opis at the end of the march.22 Here they told stories of their miseries that were, as war stories always are, compounded in their retelling. Summing up, Engels presents a long series of logistical problems without making it clear how they could possibly be overcome. The solution he provides, centered on a light train, pack animals, and over-burdened soldiers, is unrealistic. But in crafting his solution he ignores the logistical realities of Alexander’s situation. In fact, Alexander’s logistical planning was complicated, as such planning for a large army always is, but not difficult. Once the Persians opted to forgo a scorched-earth policy, Alexander had before him the tremendous bounty of the most advanced agricultural infrastructure yet emplaced by man. If someone ever gets around to redoing Engels’ work, they will have to take account of the fact that, by following the network of royal roads, Alexander kept his army along an almost mythical path of milk and honey. A latter-day Engels will also have to deal with Engel’s insistence on building a logistical model based on what we know about a few of Philip II’s short campaigns and forcing it into a situation where it is unworkable. The final reality is that in addition to pack animals and porters, Alexander employed a huge number of carts and wagons to move the supplies required for a multi-year campaign over a few thousand miles of territory. And because he kept his army marching through abundantly endowed lands he almost never had any trouble keeping those wagons full. Rarely has an invader been so blessed. 3

Paying for Logistics

As the resourcing of an army also includes how one is going to pay the cost, this crucial concern deserves discussion. While the exact details of Alexander’s financial arrangements, as well as the total amount of wealth he removed from Persia’s royal treasuries, will forever be a matter of intense debate, the larger picture is more certain. Alexander was likely never under any serious financial 22 Bosworth (2001) 139–46.

Food and Conquest: Getting beyond Engels

293

pressure, even in the early days of the campaign. But after Susa was taken, money was never again a major operational concern. From time to time, Alexander may have found himself in local financial difficulties, but this was because he had exhausted his cash-on-hand and had nothing to do with his overall financial situation. For instance, Plutarch tells us that “when Alexander was sending out Nearchus with a fleet to explore the outer sea, he asked money of his friends, since the royal treasury was empty” (Plut. Eum. 2.2). The treasury, in this case, does not represent Alexander’s total accumulated wealth. Rather, it is the war chest that he would have taken on campaign with him. One of his commanders, Eumenes, pleading poverty, offered only a hundred of the three hundred talents Alexander requested of him. Alexander, believing he had much more to offer, ordered his tent burned. Afterwards, it was discovered that over 1,000 talents of gold and silver had melted in the fire (Plut. Eum. 2.2–3).23 Here we discover how Alexander handled a minor liquidity crisis, but we also get a small glimpse of how much the Macedonian elites and soldiers profited from the war. It is unlikely that any of this individual loot was ever accounted for by the sources employed for those writing the Vulgate works on Alexander’s life. Starting with W. W. Tarn, historians have given too much attention to the speech at Opis, to convince us that Alexander, on the eve of the invasion, was bankrupt.24 At Opis, Alexander pleaded poverty at the start of his campaign: “I inherited from my father a few gold and silver cups, and less than sixty talents in the treasury; Philip had debts amounting to 500 talents, and I raised a loan of a further 800.”25 This claim is a bit disingenuous and needs to be set in the larger context of Alexander’s revenues. No one argues over the point that Philip II was a lavish spender. But that spending had purchased for Alexander a united Greece (except for Sparta) under Alexander’s direction, and, if not the largest army every assembled by the Greeks, certainly the best trained and most lethal. It also had purchased thirty days of supplies, which would sustain the army, until Alexander could begin to access Persian foodstuffs (Plut. Mor. 327e). One can also assume that there was no requirement to pay the army for at least several months, as the soldiers were very aware that if they were successful their rewards would be great. 23 Holt (2016) 41, 112. 24 Tarn (1927) 359. 25 Arr. Anab. 7.9.6. Other sources give slightly different numbers. Curtius, for example, states that Alexander had sixty talents in his treasury and a debt of 500 talents (Curt. 10.2.24), and Plutarch tells us that while he had seventy talents, Alexander was only 200 talents in debt (Plut. Alex. 15.2). There is no need to dwell on such differences as they are not great enough to have an impact on how we view Alexander’s overall financial situation. See Holt (2016) chap. 2 for a discussion.

294

Lacey

Moreover, Alexander was presenting only a small part of the overall balance sheet. What is missing are the tax revenues from Macedonia, the annual tribute from each of the Greek city-states, and the revenues from the mines around Philippi. This latter alone, according to Diodorus, added 1,000 talents to Alexander’s treasury every year.26 Even, if we assume that Antipater—named regent of Macedon and Greece in Alexander’s absence—required most of these funds to secure Alexander’s hold on Greece, it does show that on crossing the Hellespont, Alexander was having his first liquidity crisis and was not as bankrupt as Tarn would have us believe. Alexander’s campaign was barely two months old when he captured, intact, one of Persia’s royal treasuries in Sardis. No source tells us the size of this treasure, but, as Alexander left behind a Macedonian, Nikias, to assess its size, one can assume it was substantial. Even if it was only a quarter of the amount found in Susa later in the campaign, it would have been over 12,000 talents. At this point, we should take note of approximately what it cost to field Alexander’s military force. The sources are mostly silent on the pay rates for the army, or even what portion of the army was paid out of Alexander’s coffers. Moreover, there is an unceasing debate over the size of Alexander’s military at any one time. That, however, has not stopped historians from presenting their best estimates for all of this. Unfortunately, going through all of these arguments is well beyond the scope of this chapter.27 We will, therefore, have to make do with an average figure, with most historians placing the cost at between five and seven thousand talents, increasing to about 13,000 talents after 230 BCE. Although some more recent work makes an excellent case for a figure close to 6,000 talents as the cost of the army in the final years of Alexander’s campaigns, we will still use the higher earlier estimates, as we are trying to gauge the limits of the possible.28 So, if we assume 12,000 talents were found at Sardis, Alexander would immediately have had on-hand enough to cover all of the expenses of the first year of war, with a huge amount left over. It is worth noting that this figure does not include the plunder after Granicus, or forced extractions from all of the other towns and cities in Western Anatolia. Alexander picked up another 3,100 talents, along with much additional plunder, when he captured Darius’ 26 Diod. Sic. 16.8.6. As Diodorus tells us that these mines were “scanty and insignificant” when Philip conquered them, this sum may be in addition to that already being collected from the flourishing mines around Amphipolis. 27 For the best and most comprehensive work on Alexander’s finances, see: Holt (2016). See also: Le Rider (2007); Bellinger (1979); Meadows (2014). On pay and bonuses see Meeus in this volume. 28 Milns (1987) 233–56.

Food and Conquest: Getting beyond Engels

295

traveling treasury after the Battle of Issus—easily enough to pay the additional cost of the Tyre and Gaza sieges. Of course, the banner years were 331 and 330, when Alexander was able to help himself to vast stores of treasure at Babylon, Susa, Pasargadae, and most of all, Persepolis. As always, arguments persist as to the size of these hordes, but as they represent the 200-year accumulated haul of a great tributary power, one should only reluctantly discard even the highest sums offered by the ancient sources. Thus, most historians have settled on Strabo’s numbers as at least a close approximation of the true figure. Still other writers claim that all of the treasures from everywhere were collected at Ecbatana, and these were valued at 180,000 talents.29 It is worth noting that this number represents what was left after paying the army for four years, making good on losses of animals and equipment, funds sent back to Greece, huge gifts by Alexander, paying for extravagant religious festivals, and making the initial payments on a lavish building program. The total haul, then, was much larger. This figure also leaves out other plunder, such as art, gems, jewelry, and livestock, all of which could be easily monetized within the empire.30 Moreover, this figure leaves out the regular revenues Alexander would be getting in tribute each year, which Justin places at 30,000 talents a year.31 So just how difficult was it for Alexander to finance his great expedition? Once again, simple math provides an answer. The total cost of Alexander’s army, using the highest estimates, would have been 119,000 talents. Even if we use just the 180,000 talents at Ecbatana, which represents just a portion of the true haul, there remains 61,000 talents to pay for other war costs.32 That leaves us with an observation similar to what we concluded about Alexander’s supply situation—rarely has an invader been so blessed. The world would have to wait until the final century of the Roman Republic to see another instance of a military power that made war pay for itself, with a hefty profit included.

29 Strabo 15.3.9. Justin (Epit. 12.1.1) gives a total of 190,000 talents. 30 Holt (2016, 185) estimates Alexander’s total haul at between 300,000 and 400,000 talents. 31 Just. Epit. 13.1.9. This number has been attacked by many historians. But if we assume that the total Persian tribute recorded by Herodotus—14,560 talents (3.89–97)—increased only slightly as the empire grew richer, add in those areas that did not pay tribute to the Persian king—Macedonia, Thrace, Greece, Thessaly, and Persis—and a 30,000 total appears achievable. 32 The cost of Alexanders’ building program, religious activities, and gifts would have to be paid for out of the regular revenues and the huge sums of plunder that never got to Ecbatana (see above).

296

Lacey

Works Cited Alcock, S. E., Bodel, J., and Talbert, R. J. A. (eds) (2012) Highways, Byways, and Road Systems in the Pre-Modern World. Malden, MA. Bang, S. H. (2013) “‘Is There any Seed Left in the Barn’ (Hag 2.19): What Could Grain Storage Tell Us about Yield in the Late Sixth Century B.C.E.” Revue Biblique 120: 388–404. Bardoňová, M. (2019) “Grain Storage in Ancient Egypt (2600–1650 BC): Typology and Socio-economic Implications.” PhD Dissertation, Charles University, Czech Institute of Egyptology. Bellinger, A. R. (1979) Essays on the Coinage of Alexander the Great. New York. Bosworth, A. B. (2001) Conquest and Empire: The Regin of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Briant, P. (2012) “From the Indus to the Mediterranean: The Administrative Organization and Logistics of the Great Roads of the Achaemenid Empire,” in Alcock et al. (2012) 186–201. Brice, L. L. (2023) “Assessing Military Logistics and Diet in Ancient Greece and Rome,” in Donahue and Brice (2023) 403–32. Cawkwell, G. (1980) “Review of Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army by D. Engels.” CR 30.2: 244–46. Devine, A. M. (1979) “Review of Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army by D. Engels.” Phoenix 33: 272–76. Donahue, J. F. and Brice, L. L. (eds) (2023) Brill’s Companion to Diet and Logistics in Greek and Roman Warfare. Leiden. Echeverría, F. (2023) “Nutrition and Diet: Archaic and Classical Greece,” in Donahue and Brice (2023) 56–92. Engels, D. W. (1980) Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army. Berkeley. Fuller, J. F. C. (1960) The Generalship of Alexander the Great. London. Hammond, N. G. L. (1980) “Review of Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army by D. Engels.” JHS 100: 256–57. Hammond, N. G. L. (1983a) “Army Transport in the Fifth and Fourth Centuries.” GRBS 24: 27–31. Hassan, C. (2021) “Structure of the Army and Logistics,” in Jacobs and Rollinger (2021) 2: 1151–59. Henkelman, W. F. M. and Jacobs, B. (2021) “Roads and Communication,” in Jacobs and Rollinger (2021) 1: 719–36. Holt, F. L. (2016) The Treasures of Alexander the Great: How One Man’s Wealth Shaped the World. Oxford.

Food and Conquest: Getting beyond Engels

297

Jacobs, B. and Rollinger, R. (eds) (2021) A Companion to the Achaemenid Persian Empire, 2 vols. Hoboken, NJ. Jacobsen, T. and Adams, R. M. (1958) “Salt and Silt in Ancient Mesopotamian Agriculture.” Science 128: 1251–58. Le Rider, G. (2007) Alexander the Great: Coinage, Finances and Policy. Translated by W. E. Higgins. Philadelphia. Meadows, A. (2014) “The Spread of Coins in the Hellenistic World.” http:/ww.moneta -coins.com/library/Coins%20in%20the%20Hellenistic%20World_A%20Meadows .pdf. Milns, R. D. (1987) “Army Pay and the Military Budget of Alexander the Great,” in Will and Heinrichs (1987) 233–56. Petrie, W. M. F. (1928) Gerar. London. Tarn, W. W. (1927) “Alexander and the Conquest of Persia,” in CAH1 6: 352–86. Wiesehöfer, J. (2001) Ancient Persia: From 550 BC to 650 AD. London. Will, W. and Heinrichs, J. (eds) (1987) Zu Alexander d.Gr. Festschrift G. Wirth zum 60. Geburtstag am 9.12.86, Vol. 1. Amsterdam.

Chapter 14

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great David Karunanithy 1

Medical Practices before Alexander

Macedonian kings were keen patrons of adept, enterprising doctors (iatroi) and invited them to their courts at least a century before Philip II’s reign. This was particularly the case of the eminent Asclepiads of Cos, who established close ties of guest-friendship with the Argead dynasty up until the murder of Alexander IV in 311/310 BCE.1 Philip was himself aware of the importance of medical remedies for personal health (Frontin. Str. 4.7.37). He is known to have corresponded with and followed the activities of the so-called “Zeus physician” Menecrates of Syracuse who wrote a treatise on medicine. Menecrates may have even been invited to Pella at the behest of the king.2 Philip also received breakthrough treatment at the hands of the doctor Critobulus of Cos for an eye wound inflicted at the siege of Methone (354) (Plin. HN 7.37).3 Critobulus re-emerges treating Alexander, and this same man seems to have been appointed as a trierarchos during the 1 Greenwalt (1986) 217. See Suda s.v. Hippocrates for Perdiccas II and Hippocrates of Cos; Gal. HNH 11–13 for Archelaus and Thessalus, son of Hippocrates; Diog. Laert. 5.1 for Amyntas III and Nicomachus, father of Aristotle. See also Smith (1990) 119 for Presbeutikos 27.7. See further Pinault (1992) 61–77; Jouanna (1999) 31, 44–45; Chrysostomou (2002); Sherwin-White (1978) 104. All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated. 2 Ath. 7.289B–E; Ael. VH 12.51; Plut. Ages. 21.5; Suda s.v. Menecrates; Clem. Al. Protr. 4.54.3; Anonymus Londinensis 19.22. For more on the life and career of Menecrates, see Squillance (2004); Squillance (2012); Squillance (2015). Menecrates was an important itinerant physician who may have treated members of Philip’s court, possibly including Antipater’s son Alexarchus. 3 Epid. 5.49 preserves a case study describing a similar operation. See also Curt. 9.5.25 for “a physician of distinguished skill.” See also Prag (1990) 239–43; Lascaratos, Lascaratos, and Kalantzis (2004); Miserachs Garcia and Castillo Campill (2010). For more on Philip’s multiple wounds and treatments, see Clem. Al. Protr. 4.54.4. For a full range of ancient references, see Prag (1990); Riginos (1994). For added in-depth surgical discussion, see further Stathopoulos (2017); Brandmeir et al. (2018); Bartsiokas (2000). Philip’s recovery from a severe leg wound “is a remarkable event in an era without antibiotics. It demonstrates remarkable skill by his doctors to avoid bleeding,” see Bartsiokas et al. (2015). The king’s numerous, but successfully

© David Karunanithy, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_016

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

299

Indian campaign (Curt. 9.5.25; Arr. Anab. 6.11.1, Ind. 18.7).4 It is thought that Philip’s eye operation was attempted with the aid of a new device, attributed to Diocles of Carystus (a possible younger contemporary of Alexander’s tutor Aristotle), the instrument described as the kyathiskos, or “spoon of Diocles,” although its authenticity is questionable (Celsus, De medicina 7.5.5).5 Diocles is nonetheless often regarded as the first systematic writer of anatomy in the West, with On Bandages, On Treatment and On the Equipment of a Surgery being only a selection of the lost titles ascribed to him, whether accurately or not. This collection, incidentally, also includes an Herbal on plants and their medical applications consulted by the scholar and botanist Theophrastus of Eresus (a student and close associate of Aristotle). A letter from an elderly Diocles to Antigonus Gonatas further survives, advising on how to identify and cure certain diseases.6 Antipater’s patronage of the physician Polydorus of Teos suggests that some of the leading commanders and functionaries at Philip’s court took an interest in medicine and maintained close relations with the leading Greek doctors of their times (Ath. 12.548E; FGrH 112 F2). Archaeology reveals a funerary epigram commemorating an individual from Thasos who practiced as a public physician in Pella during the third quarter of the fourth century, confirming that medical professionals were active among the wealthy residents of the royal capital during Philip II’s rule (SEG 52: 611).7 It would appear that some of Philip’s (and later Alexander’s) officers were attended to while on campaign by favored physicians within a milieu of personal status and esteem (Plut. Alex. 41.6–7, 72.3; Arr. Anab. 7.14.4).8 There is mention in the Hippocratic Corpus that those who wished to pursue a medical career should follow an army

4 5 6

7

8

treated, battle injuries are proof that capable physicians were maintained as an important section of his campaign entourage. Heckel (2006b) 100. Phillips (1987) 132–35; Salazar (2000) 49, 102, 233; Majno (1975) 361; Prag (1990) 240–41 fig. 2a–c; Lascaratos, Lascaratos, and Kalantzis (2004) 257–258 and fig. 1. Paul of Aegina, Medical Excerpts 1.100.1–6; Ael. NA 17.15; Plin. HN 26.6 describes Diocles as second only in reputation to Hippocrates. See also Ath. 7.320D. Galen, Alim. Fac. 1.455–57 notes that Diocles’ Matters of Health is addressed to Pleistarchus, possibly the son of Antipater. This, however, remains speculative, see van de Eijk (2001) 323; Longrigg (1998) 166. For the case history of Python’s boy treated by a doctor in Pella, see Epid. 7.118. See also Giannouli and Syrmos (2011). See Chrysostomou (2002) for the tomb of a probable surgeon excavated in Pydna and dated to the third century. For a physician from Thessalonike also honored in a later Hellenistic decree, see Nigdelis (2012). For more discussion, see as well the authoritative Mavroudis (2010), which collates all relevant evidence for Macedonian physicians in antiquity. Salazar (2000) 70.

300

Karunanithy

(De medico 14).9 The idea of such professionals gaining experience in a military environment would be more acute in the highly militarized and bellicose expansionary state forged under the auspices of Philip II.10 Nascent health care can itself be identified outside of Macedon and before Philip’s kingship among some of the neighboring Greek militaries of the early fourth century. Xenophon describes medical personnel in the Spartan army, and in another discourse approves the regular deployment of physicians, envisaging that states elect boards of health (Xen. Cyr. 1.6.15–16, Lac. Pol. 13.7).11 The employment of doctors by city-states was apparent during the Hellenistic Age, which in turn gave them a high profile as benefactors in these communities.12 Interestingly, Polybius (3.6.10–14) implies that Philip had read Xenophon’s Anabasis on the expedition of the Ten Thousand and had studied the Spartan king Agesilaus II’s campaigns in Asia Minor (396–394). Xenophon’s Cyropaedia, on the life of Cyrus I of Persia, with extensive advice for building a model army (with Sparta in mind), may even had an imprint on Philip’s army reforms.13 At around the same time as Xenophon’s writings and the Spartans, Jason, tyrant of Thessaly, anticipated later progress by providing his mercenaries with “attendance when they are sick, and honor at their funerals” (Xen. Hell. 6.1.6). Jason was known to have set in train a series of military innovations and these had some bearing on Philip II’s model army.14 The Macedonian king was thus partly inspired by immediate precursors and neighbors. Archaeological discoveries might suggest that some form of medical treatment existed in Philip’s army, engaging notably experienced individuals who were able to exercise their skills on patients, and in a timely fashion. Remains of a male estimated at 58–62 years old, dated to the second half of the fourth century, found in a grave in the mid-1980s and preserved at the Archaeological Museum of Kavala, yield evidence of weapons trauma treated surgically “in a practical lifesaving way,” with sound post-surgical intervention showing no 9 Salazar (2000) 73. 10 Greenwalt (1986) 221. Alexander’s father deployed the Macedonian army in as many as twenty-eight military campaigns, providing an excellent opportunity for ambitious doctors eager to exercise their skills in gaining experience and a prominent name for themselves, see Gabriel (2010). 11 Xenophon describes them as included among the Spartan king’s “tent-companions,” so they may not have treated ordinary soldiers, see Lazenby (2012) 44. According to Sternberg (2006) 114, the evacuation of the sick and wounded in warfare was more developed from the fourth century. 12 Cohn-Haft (1956); Massar (2010). 13 Pease (1934); Christesen (2006) 63; Gaebel (2002) 150. 14 Sprawski (1999) 102–14. A useful study comparing the military capacities of Philip II and Jason can be found in Etienne (1999).

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

301

trace of any complications.15 The injury inflicted on this man, which took the form of a bronze arrowhead penetrating the left forearm (ulnar diaphysis), could have been received in any one of a number of actions fought between 356 and 336. Although the individual is described as a veteran soldier, this is for now only an educated assumption, as the surrounding context of his injury is unknown.16 Neither is there anything to show that the man concerned was privileged or high-ranking. Another trace of medical support may be caught in the surviving Hippo­ cratic Corpus and a compelling series of detailed Epidemiai, individual case histories recorded by traveling Greek doctors. Some of them are describing patients within the orbit of Macedon and its wars during the mid-fourth century.17 In particular, Tychon is documented having been unsuccessfully treated over three days after a catapult bolt wound taken to the chest “at the siege of Datum.” It is uncertain whether Tychon was a defender or a member of the besieging army (Epid. 5.95, 7.121) but the scholarly consensus is that the incident occurred during Philip’s investment of the town (358/57).18 2

Alexander’s Education and Interest in Medicine

Growing up at Philip II’s court, Alexander reputably developed into an avid reader and precocious youth (Plut. Alex. 4.4–5, 8.2).19 With his father’s encouragement, he was imbibing things military from an early age, as borne out by Polybius (12.22.2–3) who acknowledges his boyhood study of generalship.20 15

Anagnostis Agelarakis (Professor of Anthropology in the Department of History, Adelphi University, New York), email message to the author, July 7, 2020. Professor Agelarakis is currently preparing his findings on the Macedonian soldier’s remains in a manuscript for publication provisionally titled “Wounded Warrior during the Reign of Philip II of Macedon.” See also Jappen (2013). For remains of other apparent soldiers treated by doctors in the Greek world of the third and second centuries, see Agelarakis (2014) 82–83. 16 Stewart (2014) strikes a cautionary note on the highly conjectural nature of this find, as the man could have been injured in a hunting accident or have been a victim of a hostile neighbor, although it seems likely that he was a soldier. 17 Lane Fox (2020) 122–24, 340–41. 18 Arist. De partibus animalium 673a, possibly referring to Tychon’s case. See also Deichgräber (1933) 145; Salazar (1998a) 95, (2000) 71. See further Jouanna (1999) 390; Graumann (2000) 53. There are other references to patients being ministered to in Olynthus prior to Philip II’s destruction of the city in 348, see Epid. 7.21, 7.80, 7.89. See also Epid. 5.61, 7.33 for a man from Aenea in northwest Chalcidice wounded by a javelin at Delos, 7.32 for another patient, wounded this time by a Macedonian with a stone. 19 Brown (1967). 20 See further Just. Epit. 9.8.18 for father and son’s mutual interest in literature.

302

Karunanithy

The Suda, a tenth century Byzantine historical encyclopedia featuring extracts from Classical authors, describes Marsyas of Pella, brother of Antigonus Monophthalmus, as having written a work called The Education of Alexander (Suda s.v. Marsyas).21 If this had survived it would have imparted what the future conqueror read. It is significant to add that Alexander’s tutor Aristotle was himself the son of the physician Nicomachus attached to the court of the Macedonian king “Amyntas,” likely Philip’s father Amyntas III. Aristotle’s mother Phaestis was also a scion of an old medical family. If a passage from Galen can be trusted, it is possible that the young Aristotle was even trained in anatomy and practiced dissection (Diog. Laert. 5.1; Suda s.v. Aristotle, s.v. Nicomachus).22 Diogenes Laertius (5.25) cites that he wrote two separate works on anatomy and two others on medicine, while in his own writings Aristotle refers on about twenty occasions to an illustrated handbook entitled Anatomai.23 A close association with the medical profession continued later in his life as Pythias, a daughter of the philosopher, married a doctor (Sext. Emp. Adversus mathematicos 1.58).24 Plutarch (Alex. 8.1) comments that Aristotle’s three-year tutorship (from ca. 342) instilled in Alexander a lifelong interest in health, so that the future king became attracted to medical theory and could prescribe regimens and cures for his friends when they were sick. Extant medieval manuscripts arguably preserve some of the dietary tenets he was taught, inspired by Hippocratic practice.25 Aristotle (Pol. 1282a) goes on to describe “cultivated amateurs” who learn medicine as part of their education, so some of Alexander’s boyhood hetairoi under the same tutelage were perhaps similarly acquainted with the healing arts. By the time he acceded to the kingship Alexander (and a number of those within his inner coterie of young 21 Heckel (1980). 22 Singer (1956) 31; Longrigg (1992) 149; Chroust (1965) 99–100 and n. 8. See also Chang (2003) 97–99. 23 Longrigg (1992) 149. In Suda s.v. Nicomachus Aristotle’s father is recorded as having written on medical subjects too. 24 For the possible identification of this son-in-law Metrodorus with the physician Metro­ dorus of Amphipolis honored in a decree from Ilion dated 279–268 for healing the Seleucid king Antiochus I of a neck wound sustained in battle, and also providing medical care for his commander Meleager, see Samama (2003) 303–305: no. 182; Berrey (2014) 437–38, n. 49; I.Ilion 34 = OGIS 220. See also Massar (2005) 103–105. See Pliny HN 20.81, 25.4 for a “Metrodorus” who wrote a compendium of herbal remedies. Menon, a student of Aristotle, is considered to have compiled a history of medicine or collection of medical opinions, see Diels (1893). 25 Lascaratos (1997a) 15–52; Lainas et al. (2005) 277; Pack (1978). For a special diet prescribed for Alexander while convalescing from surgery, see Plut. Alex. 63.6.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

303

officers) had already acquired a valuable staple of knowledge with practical utility on military campaigns.26 Xenophon’s Cyropaedia, which, as stated earlier, may have had an influence on Philip II’s military reforms, stressed that a commander should be as attentive to the health of his troops as any other aspect and such advice was not lost on Alexander who read Xenophon and openly admired Cyrus (Xen. Cyr. 1.6.14–16).27 There are in fact a number of scattered hints of Alexander’s own health awareness. When facing the perils of a campaign, he made known his concern by circulating and applying personal medical knowledge (based partly on empirical Aristotelian teachings) among his officers and to the army at large. The king gave health instruction to friends (Plut. Alex. 8.1), wrote to the physician Alexippus thanking him for curing Peucestas (Plut. Alex. 41.6) and corresponded with Pausanias, advising him on his hellebore treatment of Craterus (Plut. Alex. 41.7).28 The properties of the hellebore plant are occasioned upon in some of Aristotle’s works (for example, Mag. Mor. 1199a 30–35). Alexander’s familiarity with hellebore and his apparent use of it in a military capacity against the “Alans” (Scythians?) is further mentioned by Julius Africanus in the third century CE, though unattested in any other source.29 Neither was Alexander hesitant in taking a new, untried purgative prepared for him at the Cydnus River by Philip of Acarnania (Arr. Anab. 2.4.8–11; Plut. Alex. 19.4–10; Diod. Sic. 17.31.4–6; Curt. 3.6.1–17; Just. Epit. 11.8.5–8).30 The king is described giving on the spot advice to the same doctor to staunch his injury inflicted by 26

For boyhood hetairoi, see Plut. Alex. 10.4–5; Arr. Anab. 3.6.5–6. Not all were of an age to be taught side by side with Alexander. See also Adamson (1973); Maxwell-Stuart (1976). Alexander’s training in medicine by Aristotle in some ways parallels that of Achilles, who is described in the Iliad as having been taught medicine by the centaur Chiron, see Baltas and Balanika (2019); Robbins (1993). Plut. Alex. 5.1, Mor. 342b–c preserves an apocryphal story which at least serves to highlight Alexander’s reputation in subordinating whatever useful knowledge there was for the purpose of military success and conquest. 27 Burliga (2014); McGroarty (2006). See also Arr. Anab. 2.7.8–9, asserting how before the battle of Issus the Macedonian king boosted troop morale by positively comparing his army’s all arms tactical versatility to Xenophon’s Ten Thousand. Eunap. VS 1.1.2 praises Xenophon for having inspired Alexander and other great captains. 28 For the dangers of using this drug, see Ruffin (1992) 471. See also App. Syr. 64; Just. Epit. 15.3.13 for Alexander binding a wound for Lysimachus using his cloth diadem in lieu of a bandage. Though clearly an invented tale intended as propaganda postdating Lysimachus’ rise to kingship, the story may nevertheless serve to suggest that Alexander was not averse to personally treating injured officers when the need arose. 29 See de Gruyter (2012) 43(F12), 107 (D17). The reference may be to Alexander the Great or the Roman emperor Alexander Severus in a campaign against the Alans, see Syvänne (2021) 59. 30 See Ath. 6.251C for Alexander’s willingness to take medicine with strong side-effects.

304

Karunanithy

an arrow or catapult bolt during the siege of Gaza (Curt. 4.6.18–19; Arr. Anab. 2.27.2–3). Alexander also applied a cure to a debilitated Ptolemy (suffering the effects of a poisoned arrow wound), perhaps in reality a treatment commended by Indian specialists (Curt. 9.8.21–28; Diod. Sic. 17.103.6–8; Strabo 15.2.7; Just. Epit. 12.10.2–3). Pliny makes further passing reference to one of the king’s officers and successors, Lysimachus, having an interest in botany, so it is feasible that others of the royal inner circle, some with a medical education, similarly developed an understanding of plant-based pharmacology (Plin. HN 25.35; Arist. Pol. 1282a). Arrian (Anab. 6.25.6) takes note how the army regularly pitched camp about four kilometers from rivers when marching through the parched country of Gedrosia. This was ostensibly undertaken in order to prevent the troops from gorging themselves on too much water at any given time (as well as drowning each other in a desperate press to quench their thirst) and underscores Alexander’s concern for the wellbeing of his troops. Siting the camp in such a manner further avoided the fouling of vital water sources by men and animals (Strabo 15.2.6).31 Along with this care is an order for the provisioning of boiled food for the army, as soldiers were suffering from hunger and dysentery after crossing the harsh desert environment (Curt. 9.10.17–18).32 Criteria for the king’s selection of an appropriate site for Alexandria in Egypt included that it have a cooling breeze from its seaward side, which would provide inhabitants with a “moderate climate and good health” (Diod. Sic. 17.52.2). This is redolent of Hippocratic practices, Xenophon’s aforesaid precept of keeping troops well on campaign and having sanitary locations for marching camps (Xen. Cyr. 1.6.14–16; Aer. 1–2).33 Following the teachings of Empedocles and Aristotle (and again as found in the Hippocratic Corpus), Alexander seemed to have even been aware of airborne infection caused by putrefying corpses and was keen that his army be removed as soon as possible from the field of Gaugamela, strewn as it was with many dead (Diod. Sic. 17.64.3; Curt. 5.1.10; Flat. 1–2). Using his own medical insights, or through advice from his doctors or indigenous practitioners of the lands he marched through, the king sometimes announced directives from the royal quarters to the soldiers in camp, whether 31 Ruffin (1992) 469. 32 Lainas et al. (2005) 278. 33 For sanitation principles in the foundation of cities, see further Arist. Pol. 1330a; Strabo 6.2.4; Breitenbach (1950) 73 and n. 110; Anderson (1970) 61; Jouanna (2012) 121–36. Nutton (2000) notes Vitr. De arch 1.4 and Veg. Mil. 3.2 in the selection of healthy sites for army camps and the regular relocation of camps.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

305

before marching or during an operation in new, unfamiliar territory. These orders took the form of warnings against harmful flora or fauna likely to be encountered or consumed (Diod. Sic. 17.103.8; Just. Epit. 12.10.3; Strabo 15.2.7; Plin. HN 12.12, 12.18).34 The king is said to have demonstrated “great care” or “much forethought” (pronoia) after the Granicus and Issus when he visited and spoke in turn with each of his injured men and “examined their wounds, asking how they were received and allowing them to recount and boast of their exploits” (Arr. Anab. 1.16.5–6, 2.12.1; It. Alex. 15.36).35 With his own fund of learning, he may have sometimes taken the opportunity on such occasions to proffer treatment advice.36 There is a claim of dubious authenticity from Homerus of Byzantium (third century), cited in much later sources, preserving an anecdote in which the king performed a successful tracheotomy on a suffocating soldier using the tip of his sword.37 More convincing is the Byzantine physician Aetius of Amida (fifth/sixth centuries CE) who attributes to Alexander a curative balm for watering eyes (epiphora) or inflamed eyelids (ptilosis), detailing its ingredients and their preparation.38 This recipe correlates with Plutarch’s previously noted assertion that the king devised cures for friends, and it appears to be the only specific example of a cure of his to come down to us from ancient literature.39

34

See also Diod. Sic. 17.90.5–7 for Macedonians lying in hammocks slung from trees to avoid snakes. An excerpt offering another directive by Alexander for the wellbeing of his men could have been unexpectedly preserved in what is almost the only complete manuscript representative of the earliest version of the Greek Alexander Romance (dated to the third century). Here the king orders his soldiers to protect their bodies from dangerous snake bites by wearing shoes, leggings, leather thigh coverings and corselets when marching through land beyond the Caspian Gates, see Haight (1955) 104; Nawotka (2017) 204. See also Gunderson (1980) 142–43. For a glimpse of the efficiency of an empire-wide science research edict, see further Plin. HN 8.17; Bodson (1991). 35 See Massar (2005) 74 for the possibility of Alexander’s visits as a topos. 36 These actions are reminiscent of the characterization of Cyrus presented in Xen. Cyr. 5.4.17, 8.2.25. See further Livy 8.36.6–8 for the Roman commander Lucius Papirius Cursor, who in a campaign (325 BCE) visited the wounded, achieving the same benefits with this gesture as Alexander. 37 Trubuhovich (2018) considers the story as probably apocryphal. 38 Ruffin (1992) 468; Aetius, Libri medicinales 7.90. Effective eye salves would have been welcome among soldiers breathing putrid air from clouds of dust in the center of formations on the march and in battle, see Gabriel (2012) 30. For detailed discussions on the depth of Alexander’s health awareness, see also Lascaratos (1997a). 39 Greenwalt (1986) 220 maintains that Alexander wrote about herbal cures and put them into practice.

306 3

Karunanithy

A Three-Tier System of Medical Attention

As there is no sufficient data to the contrary, the conventional opinion is that doctors in the Macedonian army were privately commissioned, unlike the institutionalized arrangements cultivated by the later Romans.40 It can be contended that under Alexander the Macedonian army in Asia operated a relatively sound workable three-tier system of medical care. The upper tier functioned as a central “medical corps” made up of an elite suite of doctors, their trained assistants and servants, catering first and foremost to the king and his high-ranking officers but also available to the troops at large. Below that was a possible informal tier consisting of independent itinerant physicians and other healers following the army on campaign and offering their services to anyone for a fee. The lowest and most prevalent tier of all consisted of the soldiers themselves providing general treatment, with a support network of servants and families. 3.1 Elite Doctors with the Army in Asia When identifying medical experts in the personal service of Alexander and his officers from the launch of the Asian venture in spring 334 and onward, a professional nucleus of elite doctors is certainly implied. A total of definitely six and perhaps at best nine named practitioners can be gleaned from the scant written evidence.41 They comprise Philip of Acarnania and the above noted Critobulus (both patronized under Philip II), as well as Alexippus, Androcydes, Pausanias, Glaucias, and possibly also Polydorus of Teos and Dracon of Cos and his son Hippocrates (the latter two at least serving Alexander’s first wife, the Sogdian princess Roxane).42 It should not be assumed, however, that these names represent the entire elite component in active service, considering that only a small portion of all written material survives (some of it merely 40

Also claimed for the Assyrians, see Gabriel and Metz (1992) 147; Gabriel (2005) 42–45. For more detailed discussion on possible medical expertise available to these armies, see, for example, Scurlock and Andersen (2005); Israelowich (2016). 41 These individuals were either all commissioned at one and the same time as part of Alexander’s entourage, joined at different times, privately followed individual commanders, or were assigned with them to different locations away from the king. 42 Arr. Anab. 2.4.7–11, 2.7.1, 4.16.6, 5.29.3, 6.11.1, 7.14.4, Ind. 18.7; Curt. 3.6.1–17, 4.6.17–18, 9.5.25; Just. Epit. 11.8.1–8, 12.13.6–8; Plut. Alex. 19.4–10, 41.3–7, 72.1–3; Diod. Sic. 17.31.4–6; P. Oxyrhynchus 1798, fr. 44 col.1; Val. Max. 3.8, ext. 6; Plin. HN 14.7; 7.37; Ath. 6.258B; Seneca, De Ira 2.23.2; It. Alex. 12.30; Suda s.v. Dracon; Stoneman (1991) 75; Gabriel and Metz (1991) 134; Chugg (2006) 183; Lee (2007) 244; Retsas (2009) 166 table 2. For concise biographical entries of Alexander’s doctors, see also Heckel (2006b) 21, 28, 100, 116, 126, 140, 194. For the plausibility that Polydorus was at Babylon in 323, see Heckel (2006b) 226.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

307

anecdotal).43 The few names left to us are of those who happen to have been sporadically transmitted through later literary vignettes describing the direct treatment of the king and those close to him. In fact, it has been estimated that as many as twenty or more persons who took part in Alexander’s Asian anabasis wrote about it.44 These works are either irretrievably lost or remain a disparate collection of fragments. Therefore, with largely tertiary ancient source-material to draw from, the actual size of Alexander’s medical staff may be understated. Arrian (Anab. 2.4.8) maintains that during Alexander’s illness at the Cydnus “all his physicians gave him up except Philip,” whatever that overall number of physicians happened to be.45 With the likelihood that some of the names of those treating Alexander and his leading officers have escaped the net altogether, a cautious assumption can be made that that the true figure was somewhat higher than we know.46 It is irrefutable that with a scheme of such magnitude as the invasion of the Persian Empire, the king’s conscientious interest in health treatments ensured that he was accompanied by doctors of proven ability (nobiles medicos) from across Macedon and its territories and from renowned medical schools in the Aegean world, such as Cnidus, and especially the island of Cos (Curt. 3.6.1).47 When proceeding to sketch the medical suite surrounding Alexander, it could be assumed that they were distinguished in some way by their appearance. A statue of “Philip the doctor,” meaning probably Philip of Acarnania, is described wearing distinct apparel in a recension of the less than credible and more often fictitious or fantastic Alexander Romance.48 Such a feature could be wholly spurious, a copyist’s error or a retrospective insertion or accretion for the dress of Roman army surgeons. It may even represent a convoluted reference to Philip being raised to the King’s Companionate (see further below). Whatever the case, it is admittedly tentative. Among the Alexander historians, Curtius only ever describes Philip of Acarnania in a generic “cloak” or “mantle” (amiculum) whilst Hippocratic treatises advocate that practitioners 43 Ruffin (1992) 467–68. 44 Pearson (1960) 243. 45 See Plut. Alex. 19.2 for “other physicians.” See Val. Max. 3.8, ext. 6 for the summoning of “doctors” (medici). See also Diod. Sic. 17.31.4, 17.117.3. 46 This is in broad agreement with Engels (1978) 11. See also Ruffin (1992) 468. For a plurality of doctors attending to the Seleucid king Antiochus III ca. 220, see Polyb. 5.56.7–10. 47 Ruffin (1992) 467; Retsas (2009) 166. 48 See Stoneman (1991) 173 referring to Philip “distinguished by his military doctor’s attire.” Ogden (2017) 320, n. 143 offers a reading of the same passage as “doctor’s and a general’s accoutrements.”

308

Karunanithy

appear clean and well-kept (Curt. 3.6.10; De medico 1; De decente habitu 3).49 A surviving mural from the Casa di Sirico in Pompeii (IVth Pompeian Style, mid-first century CE) depicts a scene with the legendary hero Aeneas (escorted by soldiers in panoply associated with the Hellenistic Age) having a leg wound mended by the physician Iapyx.50 The painting is a pictorial illusion of an incident from Vergil’s Aeneid and the doctor is shown kneeling to perform the task of arrowhead removal. He is portrayed here in unremarkable brown-colored garments falling about his thighs “rolled back and girt in Paeonian fashion” so as not to impede him (Verg. Aen. 12.401: Paeonium in morem).51 We are on firmer ground with the types of medical tools at the disposal of Alexander’s surgeons. A general survey would encompass cupping vessels, probes, forceps, knives, saws, drills, and cauterizing, levering or elevating devices.52 Specific archaeological evidence for surgical instruments in Macedon during the mid to late fourth century embraces bronze probes, spatulas, and other objects excavated on the sites of Olynthus and at Aiane, Pydna and Makrygialos.53 Additionally, there is the discovery of small portable bronze single or multi-compartment folding cases of the same period used for transporting tools and prepared medicaments. This form of container is identified as a parexodos in an anonymous Hippocratic tract (purportedly of the fourth or third century or as late as the second century CE) and it enabled doctors to carry their essential materials “when on a journey” (De decente habitu 8.10–11), equivalent to a twentieth-century “Gladstone bag.” Grave B, Derveni (the resting place of a soldier and “learned physician”), yielded objects in the form of a bronze spatula-probe, spatula-scoop and catheter or clyster plus an elegant bronze cylindrical parexodos case with hinged lids.54 A sophisticated compartmentalized case was retrieved from a burial at Stavroupolis (Thessaloniki), with the occupant identified as a warrior, priest, and perhaps healer.55 Other finds include two cases from Archontiko (Pella), 49 Suda s.v. Hippocrates mentions Hippocrates wearing a cloak over the head for traveling or “for his own professional reasons.” See also Baker (2013) 72–74. 50 Guillard and Guillard (1990) 189 pl.283. 51 Noonan (1997). See also Hom. Od. 4.232. 52 Milne (1907); Bliquez (2014) 23–50. 53 Robinson (1941) 349–52352 and pl. CX.1668-CXI, 352–54 and pl.CXII, 361 and pl.CXIV.1744, 348 and pl.CX.1664; Evely et al., Hall, Morgan, and Pitt (2008) 65; Karamitrou-Mentesidi and Moschakis (2014); Bessios (2010) 244–45; Ignatiadou (2015). For a collection of medical instruments unearthed in the northern cemetery of the Macedonian-held city of Demetrias (some dated to as early as the third century), see Tachydromos (2013). 54 Ignatiadou (2015). 55 Ignatiadou (2015).

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

309

three more dated to the late fourth-early third century found at Pydna (Kitros, Alykes) and another sample drawn from a rescue excavation at Amphipolis but of uncertain date, though possibly the fourth or third century.56 As many more cases were of wood but have simply perished, these finds may signal a diffusion of medical interest among the upper strata of Macedonian society at this time, notably encompassing individuals of military background. The paucity of evidence as to how medical staff were organized in Philip and Alexander’s army, coupled with their occasional mention in the ancient texts, serves to fuel further enquiry among scholars pondering who paid them, how much, and in what manner.57 Unsurprisingly, the sources suggest that the king’s high-caliber professionals were well paid. Philip II discussed granting one a daily allowance when being treated for a collar bone broken in battle (Plut. Mor. 177F) and Philip of Acarnania was awarded with “magnificent gifts” after successfully ministering to Alexander (Diod. Sic. 17.31.6). Critobulus of Cos was even made a ship’s captain (trierarchos) meaning that he was entrusted with the expense of outfitting the vessel, which presupposes a fair degree of affluence (Arr. Ind. 18.7).58 It is acceptable to assume that to attract the best physicians Alexander offered the enticement of suitably attractive salaries.59 Yet, the flip side was that the price of failure could be equally high. The king’s bathing chill at the Cydnus River in Cilicia prompted reluctance among most of his doctors to treat him out of fear of what the consequences of providing the wrong treatment would be (Plut. Alex. 19.2). Similarly, the severe thorax wound Alexander endured at the Mallian town caused Critobulus to be “terrified in the face of such great risk, dreaded to put his hand to the work, lest the result of the treatment, if unsuccessful, might recoil upon his own head” (Curt. 9.5.25; Plut. Mor. 345A–B).60 The ultimate penalty was reserved for those most negligent, such as Glaucias, whom a distraught Alexander crucified following his malpractice and failure to save Hephaestion’s life (Arr. Anab. 7.14.4; Plut. Alex. 72.3). Philip of Acarnania was wrongfully accused by Parmenion of being bribed by the Persian king Darius III to poison Alexander, which is a reminder that even the most highly placed were not above suspicion (Arr. Anab. 2.4.9–11; Plut. Alex.19.4–10; Curt.

56 57 58 59 60

Ignatiadou (2017); Bliquez (2014) 24. Salazar (2000) 74; reiterated in Salazar (2013) 307. Heckel (1981) 397. By way of analogy, see Xen. Cyr. 8.2.24. See Kallianiotis (2016) 2254, 2276 tables 3b and 4 for a detailed calculation of their possible salaries as “skilled workers.” See further Massar (2005) 36–39. Ruffin (1992) 469.

310

Karunanithy

3.6.4–13, 6.10.34–35; Just. Epit. 11.8.6–9). However, this latter incident can probably be dismissed as a case of literary invention.61 A passage from Plutarch (Alex. 41.3–4; 8.1) gives the immediate impression of active ongoing health care provided by physicians to the upper echelons of leadership (the king and his friends), though Plutarch seems here to have compressed diverse events and incidents together for the sake of his narrative. It has been reasoned that a log was maintained by doctors recording the king’s and his officers’ treatments and surgeries, kept separate from the royal secretarial archive.62 What can be construed is that internal organization among such a relatively small group of elite practitioners was either minimal or non-existent. When a group of doctors are described in urgent medical situations concerning Alexander, the general tenor conveyed is of them conferring together without any discernible hierarchy. Just the same, some of the elite suite, such as Philip of Acarnania and possibly Critobulus of Cos, were honored with entry into the King’s Companionate, signifying that they were accorded a higher status (Plut. Alex. 19.2; Arr. Anab. 2.4.11).63 There is epigraphic evidence for an official “Chief Physician” attending to Achaemenid kings, but it is unclear if there was a similar post at the Macedonian court.64 The titles archiatros (“Chief Physician”) 61 The story is erroneous, as Philip would have been either cut down or arrested and executed before he had a chance to enjoy any ill-gotten fruits of treachery, see Samama (2017) 293–96. For the doubtful historicity of the episode, see, for example, Atkinson (1980) 156–158. 62 Apostolakis et al. (2018) 245; Hammond (1988) 131–32; Hammond (1989b) 188–89; Anson (1996); Chugg (2005). 63 Diodorus (17.31.6) notes that Philip of Acarnania was assigned as one of the king’s “most loyal” (eunoustatoi) “friends” (philoi). Curtius (3.6.1) comments that he was a “comrade and guardian” (comes et custos) since Alexander’s boyhood. Diogenes Laertius (5.1) describes Aristotle’s father, Nicomachus, as a “physician and friend” to King Amyntas III. Bosworth’s (1980) 191 interpretation of Philip as a Companion with both military and medical competence is plausible given that his medical colleague, Critobulus, is recorded commanding a warship, see Arr. Ind. 18.7. The most trusted and capable of the king’s doctors could have been sometimes delegated other duties. See also Arr. Anab. 4.16.6–7; Plut. Mor. 334E–F on the harpist Aristonicus who died fighting in a sortie at Bactra/Zariaspa. See further Tritle (2009) 122; Heckel (1981) 397. Sherwin-White (1978) 256–63, 278–80 concedes that Asclepiadai hired from the guilds of Cos and Cnidus were viewed as more prestigious than ordinary general practitioners in Greek society. In light of the above regarding Philip’s position in the King’s Companionate, the previously discussed Alexander Romance’s description of “Philip the doctor” in distinct military attire might be accurate after all, as there is definite evidence that officers closest to the king wore a specific dress code comprising a purple kausia (or cap) with purple and gold/saffron tunics and cloaks, see Karunanithy (2013) 117–20, 275–77. 64 For the Egyptian inscription of Udjahhorresnet as wr swnw or Chief Physician to Cambyses II and Darius I, see Lloyd (1982); Brosius (2000) 15–17; Briant (2002) 264–66, 859–60.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

311

and basilikos iatros (“Royal Physician”) are present among the royal retinues of the Hellenistic kingdoms from the third century, but owe more to the traditions of Pharaonic Egypt and the Middle East than to Macedon.65 Physicians who exercised the greatest proficiency naturally rose to be the most trusted, respected and influential over less successful colleagues. Philip of Acarnania was surely preeminent, a man “loyal to Alexander; made the king’s comrade and the guardian of his health from boyhood, he loved him with extreme affection, not only as a king, but even as a foster-child” (Curt. 3.6.1; Arr. Anab. 2.4.11).66 The arrow wound Alexander sustained at the Mallian town was examined by a team of surgeons, with Critobulus given as the leading participant responsible for the projectile’s removal (Curt. 9.5.22–28).67 By contrast, Philip of Acarnania goes unmentioned in these later campaigns.68 If there was some professional rivalry or jealously between doctors for the favor of the king then it has failed to survive and remains for now a moot point. Whatever their number, organization, or ties to one another, some authorities have expressed the view that no evidence exists for Alexander’s medical experts being aided by student assistants.69 Yet the father-son relationship of Dracon and Hippocrates referred to before refutes this and corroborates that some were assisted, whether by sons or other family members (Suda s.v. Dracon).70 A Roman-period gravestone excavated at Kella in the western Macedonian prefecture of Florina illustrates a female doctor with a young assistant who could be her son following in the same profession as his deceased mother.71 It is plausible that Alexander’s practitioners, being among the most outstanding medical men of the Greek world for their day and well paid, were accompanied by trained servants. Plato (Leg. 4.720a–b), for example, remarks: There are men that are doctors, we say, and others that are doctors’ assistants [huperetai]; but we call the latter also, to be sure, by the name of “doctors” … These, whether they be free-born or slaves, acquire their art 65 Nutton (1977); Lang (2012) 239–241. Brown (1961) states that at the Seleucid court the archiatros was not only head of the royal doctors but could be a close adviser and confidant to the king, a post maybe ranking above Tutor but below that of Chamberlain to the Queen. See also Samama (2003) 208–10 n. 112. 66 Sierra Martín (2012) 320–21. For a brief overview of Alexander’s close patient-doctor relationship with Philip, see also Vilela and Fontes-Carvalho (2020). 67 Pliny HN 7.37 claims that Critobulus had already a “great reputation” during his earlier career with Philip II. 68 For a later unauthentic reference to “Philip the physician” at Babylon with Alexander in 323 (in versions of the Alexander Romance and Metz Epitome), see Heckel (1988) 42. 69 Gabriel and Metz (1991) 134; Gabriel and Metz (1992) 147; Gabriel (2012) 150. 70 Massar (2010). 71 Karamitrou, Mentesidi, and Moschakis (2014) 15–16 and fig. 2.11.

312

Karunanithy

under the direction of their masters, by observation and practice and not by the study of nature. The aforementioned Hippocratic tract (De decente habitu 17) recommends that select pupils “be left in charge, to carry out instructions … and to administer treatment.”72 Even if a random but restrained estimate is made of no more than ten doctors with Alexander at any time, a realistic figure of around fifty or more individuals comprising the elite suite can be arrived at with the addition of apprentices and servants. Of these, doctors catering to the king and his officers might function as a “senior” staff, their student-pupil understudies comparable to a “junior” staff of sorts, with servants or slaves acting as “orderlies” or “nurses.” 3.2 Professional Learning and Exchange of Knowledge Apart from the issues of pay and organization, members of the king’s medical team would have also studied technical treatises of use in their daily professional lives.73 Some of this material took the form of what is now known as the “Hippocratic Corpus,” consisting in total of about seventy anonymous texts (approximately spanning the late fifth-third centuries), with two titles covering battle injuries (On Head Wounds and On Wounds and Arrows). It is conceivable that other works were consulted that are now wholly forgotten.74 Xenophon, writing in the early fourth century, observed that medical books were not uncommon by his time (Xen. Mem. 4.2.10). Furthermore, doctors serving Alexander’s family are recorded in their own right as authors, which implies that they advocated new or improved techniques. For instance, the physician Hippocrates, son of Dracon, composed a medical work (now lost), and in a highly literate environment others of Alexander’s personnel could have done likewise (Suda s.v. Hippocrates: Iatrika). Galen even makes the possibly dubious claim in De difficultate respirationis that Dracon’s son Hippocrates had a hand in writing Book 5 of the Hippocratic Epidemics.75 The Acarnanian physician Evenor, fellow countryman and contemporary of Alexander’s doctor Philip, appears to have authored a treatise as well.76 72 Craik (2015) 59. For the presence of pupils or assistants in surgeries, see also Off. 6; De medico 2, 9. 73 Salazar (1998b) 172–73. 74 Prag (1990) 240; Salazar (1997); Salazar (1998b); Lascaratos et al. (2004) 258. See Somma (2014) 146 for Heraclides of Tarentum (ca. 70) as author of a work entitled The Soldier possibly dealing with aspects of military medicine. 75 Kühn (1824) 854–55. 76 This physician is known almost completely from epigraphic texts, see Sierra Martín (2012) 317–320 and n. 50. See also Ath. 2.46D.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

313

There is every reason to suspect that some of the scientists brought along on the expedition liaised with local physicians, analyzing and endorsing potentially useful therapeutic treatments. From Aristobulus and Onesicritus, Strabo (15.1.22) recounts the examination of “herbs and roots both curative and poisonous” when in India. Thoroughgoing investigative work is alluded to again in the extant Enquiry into Plants and On the Causes of Plants by Theophrastus, which have in-depth examination of new flora, trees, fruits, and vegetation first encountered during Alexander’s eastern venture, with an accent on their practical health and healing value.77 One of the medicinal plants used by the army when in India was rauwolfia serpentina (a snake venom antidote), sometimes taken as a hot water infusion (Diod. Sic. 17.90.7, 17.103.8; Curt. 9.1.12; Just. Epit. 12.10.3). Another remedy applied in the East was a resin extracted from the root of the now extinct plant of the fennel family called silphium (or its substitute from the same genus asafoetida). The plant was not only effective in treating infected cuts and swellings but was approved for generic fevers, aches, and pains. In addition, it was used to tenderize meat rations for ease of digestion. The last benefit would be crucial when troops in extreme environments resorted to eating the raw flesh of their baggage animals to survive (Strabo 15.2.10; Ael. VH 12.37; Curt. 7.4.25; Arr. Anab. 3.28.6–7).78 It is almost certain that there was a fair degree of resourceful improvisation in the medical sphere for an army advancing through and conquering the vast and exotic terra incognita of Asia. A dominant health problem affecting the army would usually be identified, with a solution found and then offered to all who required it (Arr. Ind. 15.11–12; Diod. Sic. 17.103.8; Strabo 15.1.45; Just. Epit. 12.10.3).79 On one occasion, the troops were forbidden to eat mangoes or tamarind, which had caused abdominal pain (Plin. HN 12.12; Theophr. Hist. pl. 4.4.5).80 At another time, oil was found to be an effective remedy for a contagious skin infection, mange or scabies, suffered by many soldiers (Curt. 9.10.1–2). Incidentally, oil was also applied in other health situations. For 77 Strabo 15.2.7; Plin. HN 12.10–19, 12.10, 12.13. Rigorous scientific enquiry undertaken on Alexander’s far-flung campaigns led to several works of major historical significance including Aristotle’s History of Animals. Alexander’s enthusiasm for scientific investigations and a hint of the level of centralized efficiency when gathering data (utilizing the intact Achaemenid bureaucracy) are evinced in a remarkable passage from Pliny HN 8.17. See also Pédech (1980); Bodson (1991). 78 For Greek herbal knowledge in general, see Baumann (1993). 79 Greenwalt (1986) 218. 80 See further Strabo 15.1.21 for the fruit of another tree which caused death when eaten. For the juice from a prickly plant causing eyes injuries and the hazards of unripe dates, see Strabo 15.2.7; Plin. HN 13.9. See also Theophr. Hist. pl. 4.4.13, 8.4.5 for over-consumption of grain in the “country of the Pissatoi” (in Bactria or India) as the cause of bodily dysfunction and death. For food poisoning in general, see also Curt. 9.10.13.

314

Karunanithy

example, if cold or blizzard conditions were expected, the men were issued with a measure of olive oil or an adequate substitute. The rationale here was that a greasy layer of oil and fat would act as an insulator.81 Curtius (7.4.23) goes on to mention Alexander’s troops rubbing themselves down with sesame oil purchased at inflated prices from neighboring inhabitants during the first crossing of the Hindu Kush.82 Curiously, there is no record of Alexander at any stage admitting Egyptian or Mesopotamian doctors into his talent pool, though he may have inherited a few Egyptians from amongst Darius III’s royal physicians.83 In India, the king incorporated native specialists (whether recruited voluntarily or coerced), including experts in Ayurvedic medicine (Arr. Ind. 15.11–12; Diod. Sic. 17.90.7, 17.103.4–8; Curt. 9.1.12–13).84 It has even been proposed that surprisingly sophisticated face and nose surgery was performed by them, such as rhinoplasty.85 When Alexander’s doctors were unable to provide a remedy for unfamiliar snake bites, indigenous healers knew which herbs speedily counteracted the “very violent and rapid spread” of the venom (Strabo 15.1.4) and so cured the soldiers due to the “virtue of the Indian roots and drugs” (Ael. NA 12.32).86 81 Lee (2007) 239. Pedanius Dioscorides (ca. 60 CE) writes approvingly in On the Materials of Medicine that oil of this kind helped keep the body warm and supple, guarding it from chills, see Irby-Massie and Keyser (2002) 311. Some ointments or salves used by Alexander’s troops could have been effective in avoiding skin damage and repelling mosquitos, as the experiences of those journeying through Bukhara (part of ancient Sogdiana) in the early twentieth century suggests, see Olufsen (1911) 264. 82 See further Strabo 15.2.10 for lack of oil in villages of the Paropamisadae. 83 Briant (2002) 266. See Briant (2015) 59 for a biographical funerary inscription of the Egyptian dignitary Semtutefnakht, possibly a royal physician with the army of Darius III at either Issus or Gaugamela. For a precise discussion, see Perdu (1985). Egyptian healing practices were considered prestigious, but with the rise of Hippocratic medicine from the mid-fifth century became less so in the Greek world, see Jouanna (2012) 13–15. It is unknown if Babylonian doctors were in attendance on Alexander during his fatal illness in June 323. 84 See further Arthashastra 10.3 for the recommendation (ca. 300) that physicians with surgical instruments be deployed behind the battle line along with women, treating the wounded in Indian battles. It is credible that some of Alexander’s Indian staff had already seen service with indigenous armies. See also Acharya (1976); Mayor (2003) 86–91; Majno (1975) 283, 285; Badian (1998). The epic poem Shāhnāma composed ca. 1000 CE pertains to Alexander as having been presented by an Indian king with the gift of his daughter, a sage, a magic cup, and a skilled physician, see Warner and Warner (1912) 100–101 sec. 8. Might this preserve the garbled echo of historical truth, in which Alexander summoned doctors from Indian vassals? 85 Gabriel and Metz (1991) 134; Gabriel and Metz (1992) 147; Bhishagratna (1907) 152–54. 86 See also FGrH 133 F10A–B. The problem of encountering poisonous snakes on the march was still apparent for Macedonian commanders years after Alexander’s death. This is

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

315

The Suda contains a reference to the doctor Aristogenes of Cnidus who wrote twenty-four titles addressed to Antigonus Gonatas when he was king of Macedon, including On Diet, On Strength, Epitome of Physical Remedies, and, most intriguing of all, a work called On Bites (Suda s.v. Aristogenes). The last-named title brings to mind treatments with a snake venom antidote described above (Arr. Ind. 15.11–12; Diod. Sic. 17.90.5–7, 17.103.4–8; Curt. 9.1.12–13; Strabo 15.1.45 [= FGrH 139 F38]). On Bites may have partially been the result of knowledge gained from Alexander’s Indian practitioners. The Macedonian king’s known sojourn in Taxila provided the ideal venue for a cross-cultural exchange in expertise of this kind, assimilated with the army. The imprint Greek medical men have had in the general region is inferred from the hakims of Kabul (Afghanistan), who claim an unconvincing descent from Alexander’s doctors and follow what they call “Greek medicine” (Tibb-e-Unani).87 3.3 Physicians Attending to Common Soldiers It is evident that Alexander actively extended the care offered by his elite suite of medicos beyond himself and his circle to the troops generally, which may have been a wise continuation of policies established in the army under Philip II or one of his predecessors. An ability to provide medical care for his troops curing wounds and ailments presented Philip with the opportunity to consolidate an aura of magic, moral and divine power over his grateful subjects, winning him their support for his continuing projects and policies.88 Alexander was similarly interested in bolstering his popularity with the army. As an able military commander with an often masterful grasp of group psychology (Curt. 4.2.17), he was mindful not to allow himself special privileges if it risked adversely affecting military morale (Plut. Alex. 24.8; Curt. 3.6.19–20, 4.14.6–7, 7.3.17–18, 7.5.16–17; It. Alex. 6.15). Some of the most celebrated alleged episodes include offering his seat beside a campfire to a frozen and exhausted soldier (Curt. 8.4.15; Frontin. Str. 4.6.3; Val. Max. 5.1, ext. 1) and his refusal to drink water when his men were suffering from severe thirst during the Gedrosian clearly observed with Ophellas, the Ptolemaic governor of Cyrene, who in 308 led an army into the snake-infested desert region below the Syrtis in Libya. See Diod. Sic. 20.42.2. 87 It is more accurate to assert that this knowledge was brought to Afghanistan via Arab and Persian adoption of Greek medical practices in the Roman Empire and later Byzantine East, see, for example, Ghazanfar (1994) 2. 88 Greenwalt (1986). For the ability of Pyrrhus to heal his subjects miraculously, see Plut. Pyrrh. 3.4–5. For more on thaumaturgy, see Antela-Bernardez (2019). See also Antela-Bernardez and Sierra Martín (2018) 45–49, including the original Spanish language article, Antela-Bernardez and Sierra Martín (2016a). See further Antela-Bernardez and Sierra Martín (2016b).

316

Karunanithy

desert march (Arr. Anab. 6.26.3; Plut. Alex. 42.3–6). Correspondingly, making his team of physicians available to the army served to strengthen his ties with it, imparting confidence and boosting overall esprit de corps by treating ordinary rankers as comrades also wounded in combat.89 Mass funerals with full honorary rites were already de rigueur for the dead in Macedonian armies (Curt. 5.4.3), so there is no reason to suppose that treatment for the wounded was accorded significantly less respect or attention.90 Written descriptions of grizzled, pugnacious veterans—if not merely serving as literary clichés or inserted for dramatic embellishment—leave the impression that professional treatment of battle injuries was commonplace. Thus, Curtius characterizes men “drained of blood, pierced by so many wounds, rotted by so many scars” (Curt. 9.3.10, 9.3.1, 8.7.11, 10.2.12–13). Justin (Epit. 12.8.12–13) additionally remarks: One pointed to his hoary hairs, another to his wounds, another to his body worn out with age, another to his person disfigured with scars, saying that they were the only men who had endured intermittent service under two kings, Philip and Alexander.91 Plutarch (Eum. 11.2) goes on to depict Eumenes with a “pleasant face, not like that of a war-worn veteran, but delicate and youthful,” whereas the officer Antigenes was a “stout fighting man whose body was covered with wounds,” (Plut. Mor. 339D).92 89 For the Macedonians exercising inborn veneratio for their kings, and especially so for Alexander, see Curt. 3.6.17, 4.14.6. See also Arr. Anab. 7.10.1–2; Salazar (2000) 186–187. Stewart (2014) cites several instances from Plutarch’s Life of Alexander that suggest the king displayed magnanimity and a genuine empathy toward his troops. See also Xen. Cyr. 1.6.42 for advice given by Cambyses to his son Cyrus I. 90 For extensive ancient references, see Karunanithy (2013) 163–164, 286 n. 154. See further Greenwalt (1986) 216; Hammond (1989a), 57. Excavations at Chaeronea confirm that soldiers who succumbed to their wounds after the mass funeral but before the Macedonian army left the battle site were cremated and interred beside their dead comrades, see Ma (2008) 78. 91 Milns (1967) 511; Erskine (1989); HM2 414–18, 705–709; Frontin. Str. 4.3.24. 92 Alexander’s own battle wounds are probably more written about than for any other ancient commander, see Plut. Mor. 326F–327B, 341A–D, 344C–345B; Diod. Sic. 17.45.6; Arr. Anab. 7.10.1–2; Dio Chrys. Or. 64.21. For full source documentation, see also Chugg (2007) 205; Harding (2006) 89, 241–42. The king may have been encouraged in his bold and often reckless self-confidence during combat by the fact that he could rely on an elite coterie of doctors utilising effective methods in wound care, see Sternberg (2006) 110. See also Retsas (2009) 167 table 3; Somma (2014) 146 table 19.1; Morris (2017) 226. For a succinct review of Alexander’s wounds, see Salazar (2000) 184–208; Gabriel (2015) 43–55;

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

317

Years of experience and familiarity with battle wounds made Alexander’s medicos, in effect, “army doctors.”93 Xenophon’s Cyropaedia contains the blunt advice that commanders employ doctors “for the sake of their soldiers” (Xen. Cyr. 1.6.15–16). Plutarch (Pel. 1.1–2) mentions that Macedonian kings issued orders for their physicians to treat officers with prolonged ill-health. One of the foremost physicians on the Asian anabasis, Philip of Acarnania, is obscurely referred to as having great repute or “honor in the army” (Arr. Anab. 2.4.8), inferring that he had successfully treated officers and lower ranks alike, unless he was simply respected for the distinguished service he rendered the king (Curt. 3.6.17–18). It is revealing that following the battle of the Hydaspes, the defeated and injured King Porus was attended to by doctors as a gesture of good will “as if he had fought for him [Alexander]” (Curt. 8.14.45; Diod. Sic. 17.89.2).94 In India, Greek physicians failed to successfully treat soldiers who had been wounded by swords and arrows smeared with poison, hinting that these physicians had at least been active in attempting to find a cure for the afflicted rank-and-file, until an effective herb was advocated, perhaps by native practitioners (Diod. Sic. 17.103.4–8; Curt. 9.8.20). Alexander was well aware that his troops would fight all the more eagerly if they had effective care services and supplies readily to hand. When campaigning in Asia, the king is purported to have kept a special “casket copy” of Homer’s Iliad annotated by Aristotle serving as a travelers’ handbook on warfare practice (Plut. Alex. 8.2–3, 26.1–3, Mor. 327F–328A; Strabo 13.1.27).95 Given his famously reported obsession with the epic (Arr. Anab. 7.14.4; Dio Chrys. Or. 2.3–6), Alexander would have been familiar with an aphorism from it that a doctor is “worth many other men” (Hom. Il. 11.514) and conscious of a physician’s immediate usefulness and role in preserving the lives of soldiers on active service.

93 94

95

Samama (2017) 243–70, 517–18. The king’s health conditions and injuries have elicited a flurry of debate in modern medical journals. For technical discussion (and attempts made to resolve issues around surgical skills and instruments used in treatment), see Lascaratos (1997b); Lascaratos and Dalla-Vorgia (1998); Delgado-Garcia, Villarreal-Alarcón, and Estañol-Vidal (2016); Sandoval-Gutiérrez (2017); Apostolakis et al. (2018). Gabriel and Metz (1992) 147. See further Xen. Cyr. 3.2.12. Diod. Sic. 19.18.2 notes that in 317 Antigonus did “everything in his power” to prevent soldiers dying from extreme heat, which may gloss over medical attention by doctors. Diod. Sic. 20.97.3 describes how at the siege of Rhodes in 304 Demetrius Poliorcetes “devoted himself to the burial of the dead and the care of the wounded,” the inference being that doctors were on standby treating all in the army without discrimination. For the veracity of Plutarch’s passage, see also Brunelle (2017).

318

Karunanithy

According to estimates by a nineteenth century military historian, the Macedonian army during the period 336–323 (operating primarily in Asia) covered over 33,000 kilometers of terrain, with an average of 2,580 kilometers per year.96 The later campaigns of the veteran Argyraspides (“Silver Shields”) expanded this astounding total by at least another 8,000 kilometers.97 It thus gave the armies of Alexander and the Diadochoi a strategic range only ever eclipsed in Classical antiquity by Imperial Rome.98 Of course, campaigning over such huge distances took a great toll on the troops. Alongside injuries sustained in battles, sieges and numerous minor engagements, they were made vulnerable to extremes in climate, marching hazards, disease, and tainted food and water.99 As Macedonian troops were not readily replaceable, the only other option would be to demand reinforcements from Macedon brought to the field army across hugely extended lines of supply and communication. The surviving ancient histories, with their main emphasis on Alexander and his subordinates, offer no firm unambiguous reference for doctors directly ministering to sick or wounded common soldiers.100 Yet, the long catalogue of hazards and maladies (listed in footnote 99) and faced by the army as it 96 97 98 99

Dodge (1890) 680–83. Heckel (2006a) 20. Gabriel (2007) 107–108. The litany of ordeals encountered outside of battle by Alexander’s army (and many other pre-modern armies) was a lengthy and grievous one and included torn ligaments and muscle damage from prolonged marching and falls, as well as animal attacks, snake and insect bites, scorpion stings, hypothermia, frostbite, snow blindness, pneumonia, heat stroke, nutritional deficiencies or starvation, food poisoning, parasitic infections, cramps, diarrhoea, dehydration, hyper hydration, chronic fatigue, foot-rot, mange, malaria, cholera, typhus, typhoid, influenza, diphtheria, and amoebic dysentery. For the disastrous Soviet experience of wound infection and disease in Afghanistan, see Gabriel (2015) 163, n. 66. For the overall sense of impact in Alexander’s army, see the speech of Coenus in Arr. Anab. 5.27.5–6; Borza (1987); Ruffin (1992) 467, 473–475. See further what is perhaps the most comprehensive analysis to date on medical practices in ancient Greek warfare, Samama (2017) 209–29, 461–66, 521–22. See Adamson (1973) 225–28 for a lack of immunity in Macedonians to diseases in the East including leprosy, leishmaniasis, and schistosomiasis. For leprosy, see Mark (2002) 302–306. For useful discussion and exploration on the risks met with during marches by Alexander’s army and other armies of antiquity, see Lee (2007) 247–49; Gabriel and Metz (1991) 81–109; Gabriel (2005) 3–40, (2015) 71. For the health challenges and dangers to soldiers marching in hot or cold climates, see also Jarcho (1967); Vaughan (1980); Kerstein and Hubbard (1984); Steinman (1987). The threat faced by Alexander’s men would have tested Greek medical knowledge to its limit, and perhaps more so than for any prior military campaign. An inability to cope with strange new diseases would have sometimes led to appalling hardship which the surviving sources barely mask. See also Brice in this volume. 100 Antela-Bernardez and Sierra Martín (2018) 43.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

319

roamed across sprawling and unexplored landscapes required the active participation of these valued experts if continual campaigns with restricted manpower had any hopes of success. A century after Alexander’s death, Philon of Byzantium commented on medical services provided to mercenaries, which included the employment by government authorities of “very accomplished” and experienced physicians described as follows: They must have (their own) drugs and the appropriate instruments, and the city must pay for wax and honey and bandages and compresses, in order that the troops do not die when they are wounded, but regain their health quickly and become useful in subsequent engagements, fighting eagerly because of the care services and supplies provided.101 The late Hellenistic tactical theoretician Asclepiodotus accepted that in an army surgeons should be classified as non-combatants serving the needs of fighting men (Asclep. Tac. 1.1). Arrian, also basing himself on lost Greek manuals, goes on to specify the “medical” as one of the important ancillary sections of an armed force.102 The Hippocratic Corpus (De medico 14) maintains that surgeons most keen to gain valuable experience in treatment involving the extraction of missiles should serve in an army and “accompany it on expeditions abroad,” making it all the more real that doctors were at hand for the Macedonian rank-and-file, given the excellent opportunity Alexander’s unprecedented career of conquest offered. This opens up the further possibility that unknown numbers of itinerant healers existed apart from Alexander’s and his officers’ select suite, following the army autonomously (some supported by their own apprentices and slave-assistants), offering help to whosoever required it and could afford it. Admittedly, none of the sources documenting Alexander’s life furnishes any evidence for a second tier of medical professionals. All the same, this may only reflect the narrow focus, limitations and deficiencies of the source material at hand. Some campaign expenditure estimates for Alexander appear to be based on the premise that doctors followed the army on a more widespread footing. They were potentially far greater in number than those comprising the king’s elite men. As already evidenced, several extant case studies trace the movement of traveling doctors treating patients in Macedon during the mid-fourth

101 Whitehead (2016) 109 C72, 328–32, textual commentary. 102 DeVoto (1993), 2.

320

Karunanithy

century.103 It is likely that similar itinerant professionals followed the army on the Asian expedition.104 3.4 Soldiers as Medics The king was conscientious enough to provide his troops with medicines, sometimes at a great distance, although medical supplies and services might be expensive (Xen. Cyr. 6.2.32, 8.2.24).105 On one occasion, a consignment of almost three tons of such supplies (pharmaka) arrived from Greece to the army encamped beside the Acesines (Chenab) river in northern India (Diod. Sic. 17.95.4).106 It is fascinating to ponder what these medicines consisted of. Whatever they were, they were obviously unobtainable nearby or difficult to obtain elsewhere in the Asian satrapies. What is more, the distribution of herbal medicines to the rank-and-file is of particular import here as it denotes that the troops already used medical supplies and that they were carried as part of their march kit.107 Alexander’s army in Asia served far from home and thus self-sufficiency, adaptability, and versatility were key prerequisites to keep the entire enterprise of conquest on track. It can be argued that as a self-contained force, medical care was integrated into its constituent units, similar to Roman military organization.108 The presence of soldier medics would complement other specialisms such as discrete detachments of slingers as well as rock climbers, rowing crews, road building gangs and foot runners drawn from the infantry, as well as whole units mobilized as laborers on building projects.109 103 Extant decrees honoring doctors underline how many were highly mobile, see Harris (2020) 49. 104 Engels (1978) 11. Kallianiotis (2016) 2254, 2276 provides an arbitrary estimate of 2,000 doctors in the expedition to India of a total of 200,000 (130,000 troops and 70,000 members of families). 105 For a modern analysis of costs, see Kallianiotis (2016) 2276, 2280; Holt (2016). In most cases medicines had to be acquired locally, see Salazar (2000) 63. 106 See also preceding passage in Diod. Sic. 17.94.1–2 for Alexander’s concern to raise the spirits of his men after “constant campaigns … toils and dangers” resulting in heavy losses. See Berve (1926) 196; Samama (2017) 357–58. 107 See Xen. Cyr. 6.2.3 for the useful portability of medicines. See Ignatiadou (2017) 262 for the medical case retrieved at Stavroupolis preserving organic matter in its compartments for use as medication. Finger impressions reveal that the owner of the case (who had a military background) was using the contents as pills. Incidentally, in the late third century Philon of Byzantium approved a prescription for emergency food taken by soldiers in the form of compact and convenient olive-sized pills concocted from a number of elements. These were similar in concept to the K-ration of the United States army in World War Two, see Codellas (1948). 108 Ruffin (1992) 467–68. 109 For discussion and references, see Karunanithy (2013) 28, 32, 211, 213–18.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

321

Medical care in the strict sense of a trained, dedicated cadre of army doctors forming an integral part of a sub-unit or unit are unheard of in extant Hellenistic military manuals and works based on them (written up as late as the first or second century CE).110 Nonetheless, the fact that the literary sources portray Alexander providing his troops with medical supplies (Diod. Sic. 17.95.4) and mention ordinary soldiers helping to transport their own wounded (Arr. Anab. 6.25.3; Curt.7.6.8–9) and sometimes caring for wounds when in their tents (Curt. 7.1.22; Theophr. Char. 25.3–6) adds credence to the perception that some rank-and-file functioned as medics to their comrades.111 In keeping with this, the Iliad narrates how Eurypylus was treated for an arrow wound by Patroclus in his hut (Hom. Il. 11. 842–48, 15.392–94). It may be posited that Alexander’s army in Asia achieved a scheme by which each man was his own medic, or each Macedonian infantry dekas (dekas meaning a ten-man squad under Philip, sixteen in the time of Alexander) had one assigned “team medic,” loosely akin to the Roman Army “wound-dresser” (capsarius). Having medics at a widespread accessible level in the Macedonian army would help reinforce social bonds among tent-companions in camp and boost teamwork and wider unit morale.112 The small portable wood or bronze cases for medicaments made in fourth-century Macedon referred to before would be convenient to use as handy kit when on campaign, whether by leading officers or common soldiers, helping themselves or aiding each other.113 110 Some of the dry and exhaustive contents of the manuals detailing the organization and drill of Macedonian-style armies may originate in the lost treatises of Polybius or even King Pyrrhus of Epirus, Alexander’s second cousin. See Asclep. Tac. 1.1; Ael. Tac. 2; Onas. 1.13–15 for physicians following the army with medicines and attending to the wounded. A prima facie case can be made for medical services becoming more organizationally developed and institutionalized in Ptolemaic Egypt, see Diod. Sic. 1.82.3. For the passage in Diodorus as possibly garbled and with links to earlier pharaonic practices, see Lang (2004) 120–21. The claim that doctors were military personnel providing free care to soldiers and their families is explored in La’da (1997). See also Clarysse and Thompson (2006) 162–64. 111 In agreement with Ruffin (1992) 468. It may be supposed that treatments included primary tasks such as suturing and applying field dressings. 112 See Lee (2007) 96–108 on the importance of tent party as a social unit. For tent groups in the Macedonian army, see also Charalampos and Chrysafis (2014). 113 Assisting wounded comrades has in fact a long tradition in the Balkans. Hobhouse (1858) 142–43 recounts how in 1809 he witnessed the rude proficiency of Albanian klephts (or brigands) in treating injuries and setting bones and even attempting surgical operations. See also Ferguson (1981) 222 for the highly developed nature of herbal remedies used by pastoral tribesmen to treat combat wounds. Balkan cultures have a rich folk tradition of using curative and prophylactic medicinal herbs, see Jarić et al. (2018) for 128 plant species identified for use in wound treatment.

322

Karunanithy

As Macedonian troops led by Alexander included a significant proportion of veterans, they themselves would have accumulated and shared practical lore about survival, inclusive of effective remedies for wounds and illnesses, honed over many years of campaigning from the time of Philip II and in some cases maybe even earlier.114 The corollary is that such valuable know-how would be only enhanced with the expedition rolling eastwards, as the soldiers came into contact with indigenous inhabitants, gathered dependents, and co-habited with women in Asia, some of whom would have had an intimate folk knowledge of local healing herbs.115 4

Routines Reconstructed

Having considered the probability of a three-tier system of medical attention, what follows below is an attempt to reconstruct and visualize in detail the routine care for the sick and wounded in Alexander’s army, starting with their transportation on the march. 4.1 Attending to the Sick and Wounded on the March During military campaigns in the Greek world of the fourth century, the less impaired got along as well as they could on their own on foot supported by a spear, a walking stick (bakteria), or a pair of sticks employed as crutches (Xen. An. 4.7.26; Lys. 24.12). Wounded men in Alexander’s army are described being assisted by one or two able-bodied comrades (Arr. Anab. 6.25.3; Curt. 7.6.8–9, 9.10.15). With his gift for inspirational leadership, there are two instances of the king himself helping to bear up disabled soldiers during arduous marches, a gesture which motivated others to do the same (Curt. 7.3.17, 8.4.9).116 Alexander’s concern for the ill or injured extended to the most serious cases transported in wagons, even with the realization that such transport was a strategic encumbrance to his army (Arr. Anab. 6.25.2; Plut. Alex. 57.1–2; Curt. 5.1.6, 114 Lee (2007) 244. For veterans, see Diod. Sic.17.9.3, 17.27.1–2; Just. Epit. 11.6.5–7; Frontin. Str. 4.2.4. 115 For snake venom antidotes provided by local people, see Diod. Sic. 17.90.7; Curt. 9.1.12. For female captives, see Plut. Alex. 48.4–5; Arr. Anab. 7.12.1–3; Diod. Sic. 17.110.3; Curt. 3.11.21–23, 5.1.6, 6.2.2. For camp servants, see Frontin. Str. 4.1.6; Curt. 9.3.11. As abridged in Just. Epit. 12.4.2–3 (from Pompeius Trogus, deriving probably from Theopompus), Alexander encouraged his soldiers to marry local women so they felt more at home in camp. For women aiding combatants in the Iliad, see Balanika and Baltas (2014). See also Irving (2015). 116 See also the injunction in Xen. De equitum magistro 6.4–5.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

323

6.6.14–16). Severely incapacitated soldiers were transported on pack animals or in four-wheeled covered wagons drawn by pairs of oxen, the latter sometimes pressed into service from being originally used for hauling supplies and equipment in Asia. These vehicles were located at the rear of the marching column and had a carrying capacity of about 650 kg, with ranges estimated at around 15–32 kilometers per day.117 Pack mules or horses were the most frequently attested form of transport for the wounded.118 The beasts were probably mounted with a type of wood-framed “armchair” saddle set sideways on the back, featuring a horizontal foot-rest. Mules are shown carrying human effigies side-saddle this way on Attic red-figure ware and they are further characterized in Greek literature from the early fourth century as conveying invalids. The same custom continued in rural parts of modern Greece.119 It is hence likely that the Macedonians used similar or identical apparatus, adapted to ferry the sick (Arr. Anab. 6.25.2; Curt. 9.10.15; Lys. 24.12).120 Apart from the above conventional transport, Curtius (7.6.8; 9.8.25) refers to Alexander being carried about in what is termed a “soldier’s litter” (lectica militari).121 This suggests that ordinary rankers had access to portable beds (a form of light improvised stretcher), unless Curtius has here either misinterpreted his original source, or is applying Roman army practices of the first century CE retrospectively to the Macedonian army four centuries earlier. If a reliable attestation, however, then the use of these litters must have been routine, as in this specific incident involving Alexander the infantry demanded that they be able to bear him as “they themselves were used to carrying their wounded comrades” and it was therefore their “proper duty” to do so (Curt. 7.6.8–9).122 It can be postulated that the troops made these contraptions

117 Engels (1978) 15–16; Krentz (2007) 152–53; Arr. Anab. 6.25.2; Curt. 9.10.15; Diod. Sic. 18.15.3, 18.31.1, 19.32.1; Aen. Tact. 16.15. For the unfit apparently returned by Alexander to Macedon aboard ship, see Plut. Alex. 71.2; Sternberg (1999) 192, 194; Sternberg (2006) 113. For more on ox-drawn vehicles, see Hammond (1983) 29; contra, Engels (1978) 15–16. See also Devine (1979) who suggests that the vehicles used for the non-ambulatory were simply the “incidental use of empty supply wagons.” Wagons jolting over poor roads must have been excruciating for those casualties with bone fractures or crushing injuries, alleviated only slightly with straw bedding. See Lacey in this volume. 118 Engels (1978) 15–17. 119 Griffith (2006) 215, fig. 9, 225. 120 Griffith (2006) 202 n. 77, 225; Anderson (1961) 112, pl. 7; British Museum (1920) 54 fig. 45a. 121 Sternberg (1999) 192–93 n. 11. 122 For civilians who had been assaulted or with serious injuries being carried in litter conveyances, see also Andoc. 1.62; Dem. 54.20; Lys. 4.9; Kamenetz (1969) 11.

324

Karunanithy

themselves when required, given the well-documented self-reliance of Macedo­nian soldiers in construction work and field engineering.123 The highest ranking, namely, the king, his officers, and his friends, usually had recourse to a more comfortable form of litter carried by four men, one at each corner.124 The conveyances were fitted with curtains on either side and with space inside for the body to lie recumbent (Plut. Eum. 14.5). There is mention of litter bearers drawn from the infantry and cavalry vying with one another for the honor of carrying a wounded Alexander (Curt. 9.2.32). Ill or injured commanders in litters could also be taken outside the ranks for added rest or sent to the rear with the baggage train (aposkeue) (Diod. Sic. 18.15.3; Plut. Eum. 14.3). Direct evidence as to how the sick or wounded were organized on marches remains elusive, though tantalizing strands can be detected from fleeting literary references that help to form a more coherent picture. The baggage train was commanded by a transport officer, possibly called the skoidos.125 As the sick were moved along with the baggage, its supervisor must have held some responsibility over their welfare, taking orders from Alexander (with advice from his doctors) or left free to liaise directly with the doctors themselves. When encamped, if Alexander was absent, he would leave the skoidos or another officer in charge of camp with overall jurisdiction over the sick and wounded (Arr. Anab. 1.8.1, 3.18.4, 5.11.3; Curt. 5.4.14, 5.4.29).126 Regarding their location when encamped, it can be deduced that the sick and injured were kept in a recovery area sited near the camp center, before the royal tent.127 The aforesaid skoidos is described by Hesychius as a trial judge, with trials in the case of the Macedonian army conducted in front of Alexander’s quarters

123 See Karunanithy (2013) 33, 257 n. 137 for soldiers cutting large numbers of palisade stakes and constructing huts, beds, horse troughs, and scaling ladders. Polybius (5.2.5) claims that in the late third century Macedonian troops were viewed as highly proficient at manual construction tasks. 124 For Alexander being carried, see Arr. Anab. 6.13.2–3; Curt. 7.6.8; Lucian Dial. mort. 5. See also Arr. Anab. 7.3.3; Plut. Eum. 14.3–5, 15.1–2; Diod. Sic. 18.24.6; Plut. Pel. 30.6; Suda s.v. Timagoras. 125 Hammond (1983) 31 n. 11. Engels (1978) 35–36 n. 53, 54 cites references from Arrian and Curtius referring to Parmenion as transport officer, succeeded after his death by either Craterus or Erigyius. See also Plut. Eum. 9.4. According to Hatzopoulos (1998) 1198, the exact meaning of the term skoidos is controversial, given the multiplicity of interpretations offered in the glosses of ancient lexicographers. 126 For a Roman analogy, see also Veg. Mil. 2.10. 127 For more on the arrangement of marching camps and Alexander’s tent quarters, see Karunanithy (2013) 186–206; Spawforth (2007a); Troncoso and Alvarez Rico (2017).

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

325

(Curt. 7.1.4; Hesychius s.v. skoidos).128 If the skoidos also supervised the baggage train (and was responsible for the camp’s layout), the army’s baggage must have been left in or beside the same empty space used for court trials, namely before the royal tent complex.129 This was a sizable area, large enough to contain as many as 6,000 Macedonians assembled there during the trial of Philotas (Curt. 6.8.23). It is entirely likely that the badly sick and wounded were kept with the baggage train when encamped. After all, frail and immobilized men would not be left far from their transport conveyances when resting temporarily before resuming the march. Alexander is recorded visiting the wounded in the encampment, whether he was personally injured or not (Arr. Anab. 1.16.5–6, 2.12.1). If the disabled men were all grouped together at a single spot which functioned as a rest or recovery area, this arrangement would be more practical than the king visiting individual tents scattered across the site, especially if he was himself recovering from a disabling wound (such as the sword cut to the thigh taken at Issus, see Diod. Sic. 17.34.5–6; Arr. Anab. 2.12.1; Plut. Alex. 20.5, Mor. 327A, 341C; Curt. 3.11.10; Just. Epit. 11.9.9; It. Alex. 15.36).130 Being at the heart of the camp, in the presence of the royal compound (and under the king’s direct gaze), the recovery space acted as a motif openly expressing Alexander’s concern for the welfare of his soldiers. Surviving sources are silent on where elite medicos were placed in the order of march. Given their value and prestige, it is probable that they would be close to the king and, when encamped, their accommodation must have been within the royal compound, with ready access to the king’s tent. Alexander is mentioned keeping Indian doctors near him when an antidote for snake bites was dispensed to the troops from the king’s tent or from a dispensary in the royal headquarters (Arr. Ind. 15.11).131 It is known 128 See Hatzopoulos (1996) 77–78 for a late fourth-  / early third-century inscription from the Upper Macedonian canton of Tymphaia which mentions skoidos as “the title of a magistrate.” 129 Alvarez-Rico (2010) 741 n. 232; Alvarez-Rico (2021) 150. See also Xen. Cyr. 8.5.3–8 for the tent of Cyrus pitched at the center of the camp, with pack animals stationed near the royal pavilion. 130 Salazar (2000) 70. 131 Would the distribution of drugs detailed in Diod. Sic. 17.95.4 have been done from the same location? See Antela-Bernardez and Sierra Martín (2018) 42 for the use of the royal pavilion here as ad hoc. See also Stewart (2014) who observes that a lack of local physicians trained in the treatment of snake bites would make it difficult to keep a dedicated medical location, and therefore the remedies must have been distributed to soldiers from the royal pavilion. See Xen. Cyr. 8.2.24 for medical drugs and instruments stored in a royal palace.

326

Karunanithy

that when the king was evacuated from combat and treated in his tent, doctors had already gathered there, suggesting that they were located nearby (Curt. 3.5.11–16, 9.5.22; Plut. Alex. 63.10). Xenophon (Lac. Pol. 13.7) records that on campaign physicians were tent-companions (syskenoi) to the Spartan king.132 However, in Alexander’s army some doctors were possibly assigned to accompany the baggage to attend to the infirm. Diodorus (18.15.3) describes how the Macedonian officer Leonnatus, after receiving a mortal wound in battle fighting the Athenians (322), was carried to the baggage train. It can be supposed that soldiers or baggage servants were generally charged with caring for the sick in the supply column (Arr. Anab. 6.25.3). In Alexander’s later campaigns and during the wars of the Diadochoi the disabled were presumably nursed there by dependents (wives, children, and slaves) functioning as vital social support groups formed over many years of warfare (Just. Epit. 12.4.2–4, 14.3.3–7; Diod. Sic. 19.43.7; Polyaenus, Strat. 4.6.13; Plut. Eum. 18.1; Plaut. Truc. 530–534).133 Still, it is apparent that during marches the incapacitated were sometimes not provided with an armed escort or significant enough protection, especially when lagging behind the main body or deliberately left behind at a specific locality. Thus, before the battle of Issus, “some of the wounded and sick, who could not keep up with the army,” left behind in the town of Issus were captured by the Persians, who had them tortured, mutilated, or killed (Curt. 3.8.14–15, 5.13.6–7; Arr. Anab. 2.7.1). Notably, when laying out a camp before the battle of Gaugamela, about eleven kilometers from the Persian king’s location, suitable fortifications (ditch and palisade) were made, as the sick and baggage animals were expected to be stationed there (Arr. Anab. 3.9.1–2).134 Furthermore, on marches in extreme environments the arrangement for the sick broke down. The most notorious example is the crossing of the Gedrosian desert when there was a shortage of transport animals, with wagons discarded due to deep sand dunes and drifts. The plight of the sick and weak was disregarded and they were consequently abandoned to their fate (Arr. Anab. 6.25.3; Curt. 9.10.13–16).135 132 Salazar (2000) 71, (2013) 305. 133 See also Karunanithy (2013) 159–63. 134 Alexander was probably determined here not to repeat the mistake made before Issus when the wounded lacked protection and were seized by the Persians. See Samama (2017) 322–23. 135 Et miles vix arma portabat, which signifies that the disabled were abandoned by ablebodied troops who could not carry them. See also Strabo 15.2.5–6; Xen. An. 5.8.7–12, 3.4.32–33. Lee (2007) 246 suggests that up to three soldiers were involved in shifting a single man: up to two for the casualty, and another to transport his equipment. Soldiers supporting comrades on foot must have surely only done so for relatively short distances, as those helping the sick or wounded in this fashion would soon exhaust themselves.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

327

4.2 Attending to Wounded Soldiers after Military Engagements During actions the injured were ideally removed by their fellow soldiers as soon as practicable (implied by Arr. Anab. 1.8.3; Diod. Sic. 17.64.3; Curt. 5.1.10), and sometimes on their shields if severely impaired, although the resultant jolts could aggravate wounds (Arr. Anab. 6.11.1; Curt. 6.1.5, 9.5.15). At the siege of Halicarnassus men were carried away unconscious while other soldiers were “standing over the fallen bodies of their companions and struggling mightily to recover them” (Diod. Sic.17.25.4). Moreover, at Issus the evacuation of stricken infantrymen was hampered by the enemy attacking at front, while troops in formation on the Macedonian side were simultaneously closely pressing forward from the rear (Curt. 3.11.6). There are references to grooms and baggage servants situated behind the battle line at Gaugamela (Arr. Anab. 3.13.6, 3.14.5–6); possibly they too had some unspecified role in removing casualties (Xen. Hell. 4.5.14). Numbers of wounded needing to be extricated and helped back to camp by the able-bodied could have threatened to deplete ranks, cause panic and even disrupt the tight discipline and cohesion of combat formations.136 Although problematic, another option to deal with casualties was that the injured might be left on the field until there was a lull or the engagement was ending, after which they were collected by a detachment assigned the task. Amidst the attack on Massaga in the Swat campaign Alexander ordered Alcetas and his infantry battalion (taxis) to retrieve (doubtless with soldiers’ litters) whatever wounded remained about the town and return safely with them to camp (Arr. Anab. 4.27.1).137 This episode serves to demonstrate the importance the king attached to recovering his casualties, the subtext pertinently revealing what his troops expected of him on such occasions. As doctors received the wounded from battles and sieges in the encampment itself (Diod. Sic. 15.87.5; Arr. Anab. 1.8.3, 4.4.9, 4.27.1; Curt. 4.6.20, 6.1.5, 7.6.3–4, 8.10.29–30; Paus. 8.49.6), the central location used as a recovery area on the march probably doubled as a “field hospital” of sorts for treating wounded casualties during and after actions. If the wounded were taken to their own tents, matters would be disorganized and chaotic, with doctors having to constantly move around followed by assistants carrying all their instruments and remedies.138 What is more, the “hospital’s” fixed position near the camp center (and before Such considerations would have led in extremis to some men abandoning the infirm on Alexander’s expedition. 136 Salazar (2000) 72. 137 Berve (1926) 197. 138 Salazar (2000) 70, with the prudent qualification that “this, however, is only conjecture for which there is no evidence, and a Greek doctor’s idea of practicality may have been different from our own.”

328

Karunanithy

the royal quarters) would be more straightforward to find for dazed or disorientated walking wounded retiring from the combat arena on their own and in search of treatment. In contrast to the seriously incapacitated, soldiers with superficial or non-disabling wounds attended to their injuries in their own tents (Curt. 7.1.22). It can be speculated that the “hospital staff” consisted of elite physicians and surgeons (perhaps wearing some form of distinct dress or “field-sign” for immediate recognition), bolstered by pupils or understudies and slaves. As independent doctors existed outside of Alexander’s circle, they may have been required to augment the king’s men. Soldiers who transported their wounded comrades from the field and the army’s camp servants for infantry and cavalry were other sources of convenient manpower to be co-opted as medical staff if required (Frontin. Str. 4.1.6; Ar. Ach. 1174–1189).139 It is unknown whether there was a physician’s tent pitched for surgical operations.140 A low number of expert doctors, who saw to the king and high-ranking officers before any other wounded,141 would mean that there was always the risk of being overwhelmed by the volume of cases within the first few critical hours after combat.142 The ratio of doctors to the incapacitated in Xenophon’s Ten Thousand (404) was low, where eight would have had to treat a hundred disabled men (Xen. An. 3.4.30).143 Alexander’s entire elite component with ancillary staff was relatively small in number. However, if it was well-organized and experienced (with its origin in the days of Philip II or earlier) and employed, for instance, a process of triage prioritizing more urgent cases, it could theoretically treat a steady stream of wounded, who had walked or been carried from the open field. As mentioned earlier, a Hippocratic work indicates that a physician’s best pupils be left in charge with instructions to assist patients 139 Winter (1912) taf. 13; Schefold (1968) taf. 17; von Graeve (1970) taf. 68.1, farbtaf. II. I, giebel c. Pediment A of the Alexander Sarcophagus portrays an unarmed youth, possibly a servant, aiding a fallen soldier. 140 It remains unsupported by any evidence, see Antela-Bernardez and Sierra Martín (2018) 38 n. 20; Salazar (2000) 70. An animated description of a busy Greek doctor’s iatreion, or surgery, in the fourth century can be found in Majno (1975) 150. 141 See Diod. Sic. 17.103.6–7 for Alexander’s distress over Ptolemy’s illness before those of ordinary soldiers. 142 Hanson (2000) 211. 143 Lee (2007) 244 argues that these iatroi were either native healers or experienced soldiers with some medical knowledge appointed from amongst the troops. Comparable doctor-patient ratios are given for nineteenth-century armies; see Sweetman (1975), giving the figure of one medical officer per seventy-seven men in the British Army during the Crimean War (1853–1856), contrasting to one medical officer per 145 men during the Peninsular War (1807–1814).

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

329

(De decente habitu 17).144 So in Alexander’s “medical section” some of the injured were likely referred by doctors to their understudies, depending on the individual aptitude and training of those understudies, the urgency of the situation, and the burden of patient numbers at any given time. It is clear that far from Macedon Alexander husbanded the limited on-thespot manpower available to him and had updated records kept with the army secretariat, whether of fatalities or of those otherwise unable to fight.145 When the king inspected the wounded after battle he may have been suitably followed by aides who totted up casualties (a process that must have further involved the use of muster-lists and roll calls). An examination of death statistics reported by Arrian suggests that those for cavalry and infantry were enumerated separately, giving total rates and details of the name, unit, and region of those concerned so that families could be identified, notified, and recompensed.146 Wounded soldiers were noted among the casualty lists and those unable to fight required to enter their names on a sick roll. This list seems to have been revised or reviewed with a cross-examination or even a medical check-up for those not obviously impaired to catch anyone trying to gain more time off or attempting to desert (Plut. Alex. 41.9, Mor. 180F–181A, 339D; Arr. Anab. 7.8.1).147 144 Lee (2007) 244. 145 Hammond (1989a) 59. Presumably, lists of sick and injured were kept first with secretaries attached to officers of combat units with copies and updates transferred to the central administration. 146 Hammond (1989a) 57–59, (1989b) 131–32; Arr. Anab. 1.16.5–6, 2.12.1. See also Rzepka (2017) 172–73, n. 17 for Arrian’s use of the expression “in the first shock” when describing the numbers of Macedonian dead in different engagements (Anab. 1.16.4, 4.16.7, 5.18.3). The same expression is found in extant medical treatises, especially Galen. Arrian’s usage may be ultimately based on original casualty reports. If authentic, then it is clear that a count was made of the initial dead, with numbers of wounded who later succumbed being added subsequently. Rzepka reconstructs the standard casualty report, worth giving here in full: “It is evident that a standard report started from a division into (1) casualties of the first encounter and (2) the subsequent losses. Lost warriors were most probably counted by arms and units. Honorary precedence was given to cavalry. Those killed in action were followed by the numbers of wounded, and the number of horses lost was also added. It seems likely that such exact and detailed data circulated for some time in the Greek world, and that these figures were available to the historians behind our extant sources.” For registration of the names of soldiers and their families as part of administrative practices, see, for example, Arr. Anab. 7.4.8, 7.5.1–3; Diod. Sic. 17. 94.4; Plut. Alex. 71.2; Curt. 10.2.9–10. 147 Theophr. Char. 25.5 offers the added dodge of tending to wounded comrades as a means of avoiding combat duties. As far as medical examinations are concerned, it is reminiscent of conscription diagramma from the reign of Philip V of Macedon in which older age groups were liable for military service but only if physically fit, which infers fitness

330

Karunanithy

If treatment in camp was successful, soldiers could be returned to active duty. Otherwise, the sick were transferred to the baggage train. Cumbersome wagons used to transport some of the wounded, traversing poor roads or inhospitable terrain in Asia, had the potential to slow down the army considerably (Arr. Anab. 6.25.2). Hence, in order not to hamper mobility, those genuinely unfit (apomachoi), or the long-term debilitated, were detached in groups to recover at satrapal capitals and convenient staging points along the campaign route. These sites (such as Susa, Bactra, or Taxila) must have had good accommodation facilities and resident healers, or alternatively assistance was drawn from camp followers in the army’s train. In 317, after Alexander’s death, Antigonus Monophthalmus, “wishing to have the army unencumbered for the retirement … sent the wounded men and the heaviest part of the baggage ahead to one of the neighboring cities,” the “heaviest part” indicative of ox-drawn wagons used as ambulances (Diod. Sic. 19.32.1; Aen. Tact. 16.15). In Alexander’s expedition, soldiers billeted at such localities (some with serious fractures) would require many weeks or months to recuperate and on recovery returned to the main force where they resumed active duty or were given less demanding non-battle duties. Those who could not recover despite a long period of convalescence could be retired to a garrison or made settlers in new colonies. Although the majority of discharged soldiers were left in Alexander’s various urban foundations, a small number of them, incorporating the permanently crippled or amputees, could be repatriated to Macedon (Arr. Anab. 3.19.8, 4.4.1, 4.16.6, 4.22.5, 4.24.7, 5.1.5, 5.8.3, 5.27.5–6, 5.29.3, 6.17.3, 7.12.1; Curt. 5.2.16, 9.4.8; Diod. Sic.17.83.2; Plut. Alex. 71.2; It. Alex. 38.84).148 All the above organizational processes, covering the details of hundreds or thousands of individuals inevitably generated a great deal of secretarial paperwork keeping track, for example, of who was convalescing, when and where, whether in the rear-guard with the baggage train and in camp or more long-term at a particular locale. Similarly, there must have been documentation differentiating between those with hopes of recovery, those unlikely to be re-included into army units and those who had expired despite treatment.149 tests or a medical check-up, see Hatzopoulos (2001) 99, 109–118. By analogy, see Baldwin (1967) for men in Athens excused from military service due to ophthalmia. See further Dem. 19.124, describing how the Athenian statesman Aeschines in the mid-fourth century evaded serving in an embassy with a certificate provided by the physician Execestus. 148 Alexander’s convalescent program was established from Persia eastwards in order to assure the army’s mobility in the face of more decentralized mobile opposition. One group of convalescents left at Bactra/Zariaspa is detailed as comprising or including Companion cavalrymen, see Arr. Anab. 4.16.6. See also Bosworth (1995) 115–16; Holt (2000); Samama (2017) 500–505. 149 Antela-Bernardez and Sierra Martín (2018) 37.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

331

4.3 Provisions for Veterans Injured veterans returning to Macedon are described as well provided for, with pay covering their homeward journey and with a splendid severance bonus of a talent each (commensurate to many years’ wages for an ordinary soldier), useful for financing ongoing medical treatment if necessary (Arr. Anab. 5.27.6, 7.12.1–2; Plut. Alex. 71.5; Just. Epit. 12.11.1, 12.12.10).150 Given the king’s notable largesse, it is entirely feasible that amputees were even fitted with rudimentary wooden prosthetics. This is not so far-fetched, as there is actual contemporaneous evidence for such devices being applied elsewhere in the ancient Classical world.151 Alexander wrote to his regent Antipater in Europe that on their return his maimed, time-expired soldiers were to be honored among the leading citizens of their communities with the grant of front-row seating (proedria) at games and theatrical performances: “at all the public contests and in the theaters they should have the foremost seats and wear garlands” (Plut. Alex. 71.5). Returned troops were hence to be “the envy of those at home” (Arr. Anab. 7.10.5).152 For the sons of those who died in his service, which must have encompassed the children of the many sick or wounded who, though medically treated, failed to recover,153 the king made a ruling that they be allowed to continue to draw their father’s pay as a form of child support (Plut. Alex. 71.5; Diod. Sic. 17.94.4; Just. Epit. 12.4.9). The parents and children of those who perished (once more 150 Diod. Sic. 17.69.1–9; Curt. 5.5.5–24; Just. Epit. 11.14.11–12 recount how during Alexander’s advance on Persepolis in early 330 he was met by a deputation of either 800 or (less credibly) 4,000 Greek prisoners mutilated by their Persian overlords. The king provided them with clothing and female companions and for re-establishing themselves as farmers assigned cash subsidies and tax exemption, with supplies of seed-corn, oxen, and sheep. The historicity of the episode can neither be proven nor disproven, and even if true it was probably embellished. If generally accurate, then as Hegemon of the Hellenic League Alexander’s generosity here was partly spurred by a propaganda calculus, enhancing his approval among Greek allies. It serves to highlight the king’s ability to provide extensive support to large numbers of disabled people when it was deemed necessary, expedient or advantageous to do so. See further Miles (2003); Morris (2018) 830–32. 151 Bliquez (1996). Pikoulis et al. (2004) fig. 3 shows a detail from an Etruscan vase depicting a peg-leg or “implant of a leg following amputation.” An artificial leg of bronze and wood has been discovered in a tomb at Capua, Italy, dated ca. 300. See also Samama (2017) 452–54. 152 The veterans would thus be in place to advertise Alexander’s munificence, encouraging and promoting military recruitment for future campaigns amongst younger generations. 153 Ruffin (1992) 472 points to absence of “died-of-wounds” statistics. Gabriel (2012) 25 provides a “rough statistical profile” that in ancient battles around 25% of wounded soldiers succumbed within ten days of combat due to “shock and bleeding, tetanus, gangrene, and septicemia.” For a detailed and sobering picture of the sorts of wounds inflicted in Classical hoplite battles and the chances of recovery, see Hanson (2000) 210–18.

332

Karunanithy

inclusive of men who died of wounds or sickness) could be further granted remission from public duties and taxes (ateleia) (Arr. Anab. 1.16.5, 7.10.4). 5

Conclusion

In the second century CE Appian (History, Preface 10) declared to his Roman readership that “the empire of Alexander was splendid in its magnitude, in its armies … and it wanted little of being boundless and unexampled, yet in its shortness of duration it was like a brilliant flash of lightning” (my emphasis). In military matters the Macedonian army represents the apex of Greek scientific inquiry and ingenuity in the fourth century. It was a watershed institution which bestrode Classical Greece and the Hellenistic Age like a Cyclops (Plut. Galb. 1.4) and was as significant for its matrix of innovations as its impact on historical events. As part of those innovations, Philip II and Alexander III both understood the importance of medical support for soldiers, inspired as they were by predecessors and near contemporaries. Health awareness and treatment, in turn, evolved with the experience of the Asian anabasis, through practical improvisation and investigation combined with the skills of the indigenous healers. Despite doctors remaining ad hoc rather than integrated and regulated within military units, general medical care in Alexander’s army was probably more organizationally developed than was witnessed before among Greek-speaking polities, and by extension it set a new benchmark for armies in the West. Protracted successful campaigning over vast distances necessitated a system of treatment for the wounded that worked, or at least offered a degree of support. Moreover, the eastern venture, with long-term deployment ranging as it did from the Aegean coast through alien lands and cultures to northern India and back to the Middle East over a period of eleven years, in size and scope far surpassed anything previously attempted in Classical history and, under the command of a personality with strong health interests, must have had a major impact on the subsequent development of Hellenistic military medicine.154 Through the filter of the Hellenistic Age, with its sophisticated military infrastructures and famous medical schools and literature, Alexander’s arrangements (along with the unparalleled fame of his army and the “glamor” of its conquests) could have even helped to inspire the medical facilities of that ultimate military institution of the ancient Mediterranean world—the Roman Army. 154 Antela-Bernardez and Sierra Martin (2018) 43.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

333

Works Cited Acharya, A. M. (1976) “Military Medicine in Ancient India.” Bulletin of the Indian Institute of History of Medicine (Hyderabad) 6.1: 50–57. Adamson, P. B. (1973) “The Influence of Alexander the Great on the Practice of Medicine.” Episteme: Rivista Critica di Storia delle Scienze, Mediche e Biologiche 7: 222–30. Agelarakis, A. (2014) “Veterans’ Wounds: Traces of Ancient Greek Surgeon-Physicians,” in Stampolidis and Tassoulas (2014) 76–85. Alonso Troncoso, V. and Alvarez-Rico, M. G. (2017) “Alexander’s Tents and Camp Life,” in Müller et al. (2017) 113–24. Althoff, J., Föllinger, S., and Wöhrle, G. (eds) (2015) Antike Naturwissenschaft un ihre Rezeption. Trier. Alvarez-Rico, M. G. (2010) “El Campamento Militar Griego: De Homero a Jenofonte.” PhD Dissertation. Madrid. Alvarez-Rico, M. G. (2021) “Greek Camps and Camp Followers,” in Heckel et al. (2021) 148–59. Anderson, J. K. (1961) Ancient Greek Horsemanship. Berkeley. Anderson, J. K. (1970) Military Theory and Practice in the Age of Xenophon. Berkeley. Anson, E. M. (1996) “The Ephemerides of Alexander the Great.” Historia 45: 501–506. Antela-Bernardez, B. (2019) “Enfermedad, Curación y Poderlos Eácidas Taumaturgos,” in Sierra Martin and Antela-Bernardez (2019) 63–74. Antela-Bernardez, B. and Sierra Martin, C. (2016a) “Alejandro y la Anábasis de la Medicina Griega.” Athenaeum 104.2: 397–417. Antela-Bernardez, B. and Sierra Martin, C. (2016b) “La Divinización de Alejandro a Través de la Medicina.” QUUC 113.2: 115–40. Antela-Bernardez, B. and Sierra Martín, C. (2018) “Alexander and the Medicine.” Karanos 1: 35–54. Apostolakis, E., Papakonstantinou, N. A., Baikoussis, N. G., and Apostolaki, G. (2018) “Alexander the Great’s Life-Threatening Thoracic Trauma.” Korean Journal of Thoracic and Cardiovascular Surgery 51.4: 241–46. Atkinson, J. E. (1980) A Commentary on Q. Curtius Rufus’ Historiae Alexandri Magni. Books 3 and 4. Amsterdam. Badian, E. (1998) “The King’s Indians,” in Will (1998) 205–24. Baker, P. A. (2013) The Archaeology of Medicine in the Greco-Roman World. Cambridge. Balanika, A. P. and Baltas, C. S. (2014) “Hecamede: Homeric Nurse of the Battle-wounded in the Trojan War.” Journal of Medical Biography 22.1: 32–34. Baldwin, B. (1967) “Medical Grounds for Exemption from Military Service at Athens.” CPh 62.1: 42–43.

334

Karunanithy

Baltas, C. S. and Balanika, A. P. (2019) “Achilles and Patroclus: Lesser Known Physicians of Homer’s Iliad.” Journal of Musculoskeletal and Neuronal Interactions 19.2: 245–48. Bartsiokas, A. (2000) “The Eye Injury of King Philip II and the Skeletal Evidence from the Royal Tomb II at Vergina.” Science 288 (5465): 511–14. Bartsiokas, A., Arsuaga, J. L., Santos, E., Algaba, M., and Gómez-Olivencia A. (2015) “The Lameness of King Philip II and Royal Tomb I at Vergina, Macedonia.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences USA 112 (32): 9844–48. Baumann, H. (1993) The Greek Plant World in Myth, Art and Literature. Portland, OR. Berrey, M. (2014) “Chrysippus of Cnidus: Medical Doxography and Hellenistic Monarchies.” GRBS 54.3: 420–43. Berve, H. (1926) Das Alexanderreich Auf Prosopographischer Grundlage, Vol. 1. Munich. Bessios, M. (2010) Pierídon Stéfanos: Pýdna, Methóni kai oi Archaiótites tis Vóreias Pierías. Katerini. Bhishagratna, K. K. (1907) Sushruta Samhita. Vol. 1: Sutrasthanam. Calcutta. Bliquez, L. J. (1996) “Prosthetics in Classical Antiquity: Greek, Etruscan, and Roman Prosthetics.” ANRW 37.3: 2640–76. Bliquez, L. J. (2014) The Tools of Ascelpius: Surgical Instruments in Greek and Roman Times. Leiden. Bodson, L. (1991) “Alexander the Great and the Scientific Exploration of the Oriental Part of His Empire: An Overview of the Background, Trends and Results.” AncSoc 22: 127–38. Borza, E. N. (1987) “Malaria in Alexander’s Army.” AHB 1: 36–38. Bosworth, A. B. (1980) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1995) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander. Vol. II. Oxford. Brandmeir, N., Payne, R., Rizk, E., Tubbs, R. S., Arsuaga, J. L., and Bartsiokas, A. (2018) “The Leg Wound of King Philip II of Macedonia.” Cureus. doi.org/10.7759/cureus.25011. Breitenbach, H. R. (1950) Historiographische Anschauungsformen Xenophons. Freiburg. Briant, P. (2002) From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire. Trans. P. T. Daniels. Winona Lake, IN. Briant, P. (2015) Darius in the Shadow of Alexander. Trans. J. M. Todd. Cambridge, MA. British Museum (1920) Guide to Exhibition Illustrating Greek and Roman Life. London. Brosius, M. (2000) The Persian Empire from Cyrus II to Artaxerxes I. London. Brown, T. S. (1961) “Apollophanes and Polybius, Book 5.” Phoenix 15 (4): 187–95. Brown, T. S. (1967) “Alexander’s Book Order (Plut. Alex. 8).” Historia 16: 359–68. Brunelle, C. (2017) “Alexander’s Persian Pillow and Plutarch’s Cultured Commander.” CJ 112.3: 257–78. Burliga, B. (2014) “Xenophon’s Cyrus, Alexander φιλόκυρος: How Carefully Did Alexander the Great Study the Cyropaedia?” Miscellanea Anthropologica et Sociologica 15.3: 134–46.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

335

Campbell, B. and Tritle, L. A. (eds) (2013) The Oxford Handbook of Warfare in the Classical World. Cambridge. Chang, H. (2003) “Testing the Serpent of Asclepius: The Social Mobility of Greek Physicians.” PhD Dissertation. Indiana University. Charalampos, I. and Csalazqrhrysafis, C. I. (2014) “Pyrokausis: Its Meaning and Function in the Organisation of the Macedonian Army.” Klio 96.2: 455–68. Christesen, P. (2006) “Xenophon’s Cyropaedia and Military Reform in Sparta.” JHS 126: 47–65. Chroust, A. H. (1965) “A Brief Analysis of the Vita Aristotelis of Diogenes Laërtius (DL V 1–16).” AC 34.1: 97–129. Chrysostomou, P. (2002) “Symvolés Stin Istoría Tis Iatrikís Stin Archaía Makedonía.” Eulimene 3: 99–116. Chugg, A. M. (2005) “The Journal of Alexander the Great.” AHB 19: 155–75. Chugg, A. M. (2006) Alexander’s Lovers. Morrisville, NC. Chugg, A. M. (2007) The Quest for the Tomb of Alexander the Great. Bristol. Clarysse, W. and Thompson, D. J. (2006) Counting the People in Hellenistic Egypt. Volume 2: Historical Studies. Cambridge. Clogg, R. (ed) (1981) Balkan Society in the Age of Greek Independence. London. Codellas, P. S. (1948) “The Epimonidion of Philon the Byzantine, ‘The Hunger and Thirst Checking Pill’ and other Emergency Foods.” BHM 22: 630–34. Cohn-Haft, L. (1956) The Public Physicians of Ancient Greece. Northampton, MA. Craik, E. M. (2015) The ‘Hippocratic Corpus’: Content and Context. London. Daehner, J. M., Lapatin, K., and Spinelli, A. (eds) (2017) Artistry in Bronze: The Greeks and their Legacy. Los Angeles. de Gruyter, W. (ed) (2012) Iulius Africanus Cesti: The Extant Fragments. Boston. Deichgräber, K. (1933) Die Epidemien und das Corpus Hippocraticum: Voruntersuchungen zu einer Geschichte der Koischen Ärzteschule. Berlin. Delgado-Garcia, G., Villarreal-Alarcón, M. Á., and Estañol-Vidal, B. (2016) “On Alexander’s Pneumothorax: A Critical Appraisal.” Gaceta Médica de México 152 (6): 754–60. Devine, A. M. (1979) “Review of Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army by Donald W. Engels.” Phoenix 33: 272–76. DeVoto, J. G. (trans) (1993) Flavius Arrianus: Tactical Handbook and the Expedition against the Alans. Chicago. Diels, H. (1893) “Über die Excerpte von Menons Iatrika in dem Londoner Papyrus 137.” Hermes 28: 407–34. Dodge, T. A. (1890) Great Captains: Alexander. Boston. Engels, D. W. (1978) Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army. Berkeley. Erskine, A. (1989) “The Pezhetairoi of Philip II and Alexander III.” Historia 38: 385–94. Etienne, R. (1999) “Jason de Phères et Philippe II: Stratégies de Deux Condottieri,” in Prost (1999) 276–86.

336

Karunanithy

Evely, D., Hall, H., Morgan, C., and Pitt, R. K. (2008) “Archaeology in Greece 2007–2008.” Archaeological Reports 54: 1–113. Ferguson, A. (1981) “Montenegrin Society 1800–1830,” in Clogg (1981) 205–28. Gabriel, R. A. (2005) Empires at War, Vol. 1. Westport, CT. Gabriel, R. A. (2007) Soldiers’ Lives through History—the Ancient World. Westport, CT. Gabriel, R. A. (2010) Philip II of Macedonia: Greater than Alexander. Washington, DC. Gabriel, R. A. (2012) Man and Wound in the Ancient World. Washington, DC. Gabriel, R. A. (2015) The Madness of Alexander the Great. Barnsley, UK. Gabriel, R. A. and Metz, K. (1991) From Sumer to Rome: The Military Capabilities of Ancient Armies. New York. Gabriel, R. A. and Metz, K. (1992) A History of Military Medicine, Vol. 1. New York. Gaebel, R. E. (2002) Cavalry Operations in the Ancient Greek World. Norman, OK. Ghazanfar, S. A. (1994) Handbook of Arabian Medicinal Plants. Boca Raton, FL. Giannouli, V. and Syrmos, N. (2011) “Information about Macedonian Medicine in Ancient Greece.” Hellenic Journal of Nuclear Medicine 14 (3): 324–25. Graumann, L. A. (2000) Die Krankengeschichten der Epidemienbücher des Corpus Hippocraticum. Medizinhistorische Bedeutung und Möglichkeiten der Retrospektiven Diagnose. Aachen. Greenwalt, W. (1986) “Macedonia’s Kings and the Political Usefulness of the Medical Arts,” in Ancient Macedonia, Vol. 4, 213–22. Thessaloniki. Griffith, M. (2006) “Horsepower and Donkeywork: Equids and the Ancient Greek Imagination.” CPh 101: 185–246. Guillard, J. and Guillard, M. (1990) La Pittura a Fresco al Tempo di Pompei. Paris. Gunderson, L. L. (1980) Alexander’s Letter to Aristotle about India. Meisenheim am Glan. Haight, E. H. (1955) The Life of Alexander of Macedon by Pseudo-Callisthenes. New York. Hammond, N. G. L. (1983) “Army Transport in the Fifth and Fourth Centuries.” GRBS 24: 27–31. Hammond, N. G. L. (1988) “The Royal Journal of Alexander.” Historia 37: 129–50. Hammond, N. G. L. (1989a) “Casualties and Reinforcements of Citizen Soldiers in Greece and Macedonia.” JHS 109: 56–68. Hammond, N. G. L. (1989b) The Macedonian State: Origins, Institutions and History. Oxford. Hanson, V. D. (2000) The Western Way of War: Infantry Battle in Classical Greece. Berkeley. Harding, P. (2006) Didymos on Demosthenes. Oxford. Harris, E. M. (2020) “Many Greek Occupations, but Few Professionals,” in Stewart et al. (2020) 29–67. Harris, W. V. (ed) (2016) Perspectives on Popular Medicine in Graeco-Roman Antiquity: Explorations. Leiden.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

337

Hatzopoulos, M. B. (1996) Macedonian Institutions under the Kings. I. A Historical and Epigraphic Study. Athens. Hatzopoulos, M. B. (1998) “Épigraphie et Philologie: Récentes Découvertes Épigra­ phiques et Gloses Macédoniennes d’Hésychius.” CRAI 142 (4): 1189–218. Hatzopoulos, M. B. (2001) L’organisation de l’Armée Macédonienne sous les Antigonides: Problèmes Anciens et Documents Nouveaux. Athens. Heckel, W. (1980) “Marsyas of Pella, Historian of Macedon.” Hermes 108: 444–62. Heckel, W. (1981) “Two Doctors from Kos.” Mnemosyne 34: 396–98. Heckel, W. (1988) The Last Days and Testament of Alexander the Great: A Prosopographic Study. Stuttgart. Heckel, W. (2006a) Macedonian Warrior. Oxford. Heckel, W. (2006b) Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander the Great: Prosopography of Alexander’s Empire. Oxford. Heckel, W., Naiden, F. S., Garvin, E., and Vanderspoel, J. (eds) (2021) A Companion to Greek Warfare. Hoboken. Heckel, W., and Tritle, L. A. (eds) (2009) Alexander the Great: A New History. Oxford. Hobhouse, J. C. (1858) Travels in Albania and other Provinces of Turkey in 1809 and 1810, Vol. 1. London. Holt, F. L. (2000) “The Death of Coenus: Another Study in Method.” AHB 1–2: 54–55. Holt, F. L. (2016) The Treasures of Alexander the Great: How One Man’s Wealth Shaped the World. Oxford. Hope, V. M. and Marshall, E. (eds) (2000) Death and Disease in the Ancient City. Leiden. Horstmanshoff, M. (ed) (2010) Hippocrates and Medical Education. Leiden. Howe, T., Müller, S., and Stoneman, R. (eds) (2017) Ancient Historiography on War and Empire. Oxford. Ignatiadou, D. (2015) “The Warrior Priest in Derveni Grave B was a Healer too.” Histoire, Médecine et Santé 8: 89–113. Ignatiadou, D. (2017) “Bronze Medical and Writing Cases in Classical and Hellenistic Macedonia,” in Daehner et al. (2017) 260–67. Irby-Massie, G. L. and Keyser, P. T. (2002) Greek Science of the Hellenistic Era: A Sourcebook. London. Irving, J. C. (2015) “The Greek Epigraphic Evidence for Healer Women in the Greek World.” PhD Dissertation. Macquarie University, Sydney. Israelowich, I. (2016) “Medical Care in the Roman Army during the High Empire,” in Harris (2016) 215–30. Jappen, M. (2013) “Ancient Greek Warrior Exiled on Long Island.” Accessed December 14, 2020. https://www.longislandpress.com/2013/05/22/ancient-greek-warrior-x-rayed -on-long-island/. Jarcho, S. (1967) “A Roman Experience with Heat Stroke in 24B.C.” Bulletin of the New York Academy of Medicine 43: 767–68.

338

Karunanithy

Jarić, S., Kostić, O., Mataruga, O., Pavlović, D., Pavlović, M., Mitrović, M., and Pavlović, P. (2018) “Traditional Wound-healing Plants Used in the Balkan Region (Southeast Europe).” Journal of Ethnopharmacology 211: 311–28. Jouanna, J. (1999) Hippocrates. Trans. M. B. DeBevoise. Baltimore. Jouanna, J. (2012) Greek Medicine from Hippocrates to Galen. Trans. N. Allies. Leiden. Kallianiotis, I. N. (2016) “The Management of Expenditures and Revenue by Alexander the Great during the Expedition to the Boundless Asia.” International Journal of Social Sciences and Humanities Invention 3 (6): 2240–83. Kamenetz, H. L. (1969) The Wheelchair Book: Mobility for the Disabled. Springfield, IL. Karamitrou-Mentesidi, G. and Moschakis, K. (2014) “Iatrikí stin Aianí kai tin Áno Makedonía stin Archaiótita,” in Michaelides (2014) 8–23. Karunanithy, D. (2013) The Macedonian War Machine. Barnsley. Kerstein, M. and Hubbard, R. (1984) “Heat Related Problems in the Desert: The Environment Can Be the Enemy.” Military Medicine 149: 650–56. Krentz, P. (2007) “War,” in CHGRW 1: 147–85. Kühn, K. G. (ed) (1824) Galeni Opera Omnia. Vol. 7. Leipzig. La’da, C. A. (1997) “Ethnic Designations in Hellenistic Egypt.” PhD Dissertation, Univer­ sity of Cambridge. Lainas, P., Panutsopulos, D., Skandalakis, P. N., Zoras, O., and Skandalakis, J. E. (2005) “‘Most Brilliant in Judgement’: Alexander the Great and Aristotle.” American Surgeon 71 (3): 275–80. Lane Fox, R. (2020) The Invention of Medicine from Homer to Hippocrates. London. Lang, P. (2004) “Medical and Ethnic Identities in Hellenistic Egypt.” Apeiron 37 (4): 107–31. Lang, P. (2012) Medicine and Society in Ptolemaic Egypt. Leiden. Lascaratos, J. (1997a) O Mégas Aléxandros sta pedía tis Iatrikís. Athens. Lascaratos, J. (1997b) “The Wounding of Alexander the Great in Cyropolis (329 BCE): The First Reported Case of the Syndrome of Transient Cortical Blindness?” Survey of Ophthalmology (43) 3: 283–87. Lascaratos, J. and Dalla-Vorgia, P. (1998) “The Disease of Alexander the Great in Cilicia (333 BCE).” International Journal of Risk & Safety in Medicine 11 (1): 65–68. Lascaratos, J., Lascaratos, G., and Kalantzis, G. (2004) “The Ophthalmic Wound of Philip II of Macedonia (360–336 BCE).” Survey of Ophthalmology 49: 256–61. Lazenby, J. F. (2012) Spartan Army. Mechanicsburg, PA. Lee, J. W. I. (2007) A Greek Army on the March. Cambridge. Lloyd, A. B. (1982) “The Inscription of Udjahhorresnet: A Collaborator’s Testament.” JEA 68: 166–80. Longrigg, J. (1992) Greek Rational Medicine. London. Longrigg, J. (1998) Greek Medicine from the Heroic Age to the Hellenistic Age: A Source Book. London.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

339

Ma, J. (2008) “Chaironeia 338: Topographies of Commemoration.” JHS 128: 72–91. Majno, G. (1975) The Healing Hand: Man and Wound in the Ancient World. Cambridge, MA. Mark, S. (2002) “Alexander the Great, Seafaring, and the Spread of Leprosy.” JHM 57 (3): 285–311. Massar, N. (2005) Soigner et Servir. Histoire Sociale et Culturelle de la Médecine Grecque à l’époque Hellénistique. Paris. Massar, N. (2010) “‘Choose Your Master Well’: Medical Training, Testimonies and Claims to Authority,” in Horstmanshoff (2010) 169–86. Mavroudis, E. (2010) Makedonikí Iatrikí Prosopografía. Athens. Maxwell-Stuart, P. G. (1976) “A Medical Recipe of Alexander the Great?” Rivista di Studi Classici 24: 321–23. Mayor, A. (2003) Greek Fire, Poison Arrows and Scorpion Bombs: Biological and Chemical Warfare in the Ancient World. London. McGroarty, K. (2006) “Did Alexander the Great Read Xenophon?” Hermathena 181: 105–24. Michaelides, D. (ed) (2014) Medicine and Healing in the Ancient Mediterranean World. Oxford. Miles, M. (2003) “Segregated We Stand? The Mutilated Greeks’ Debate at Persepolis, 330 BCE.” Disability & Society 18 (7): 865–79. Milne, J. S. (1907) Surgical Instruments in Greek and Roman Times. Oxford. Milns, R. D. (1967) “Philip II and the Hypaspists.” Historia 16: 509–12. Miserachs Garcia, S. and Castillo Campill, L. (2010) “La Repercusión de la Herida Oftálmica de Filipo II de Macedonia.” Archivos de la Sociedad Española de Oftalmología 85/2: 85–87. Moore, K. R. (ed) (2018) Brill’s Companion to the Reception of Alexander the Great. Leiden. Morris, A. F. (2017) “Alexander the Great: Head to Head with CTE (Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy).” Athens Journal of History 3 (3): 225–34. Morris, A. F. (2018) “The Conscience of the King: Alexander the Great and the Ancient Disabled,” in Moore (2018) 823–43. Müller, S., Howe, T., Bowden, H., and Rollinger, R. (eds) (2017) The History of the Argeads: New Perspectives. Wiesbaden. Nawotka, K. (2017) The Alexander Romance by Ps.-Callisthenes: A Historical Commentary. Leiden. Nigdelis, P. M. (2012) “An Unknown City Honors a Thessalonian Physician (?) in the Second Century BC.” ZPE 182: 217–22. Noonan, J. D. (1997) “The Iapyx Episode of Aeneid 12 and Medical Tales in Myth and Mythography.” Phoenix 51: 374–92.

340

Karunanithy

Nutton, V. (1977) “Archiatri and the Medical Profession in Antiquity.” PBSR 45: 191–226. Nutton, V. (2000) “Medical Thoughts on Urban Pollution,” in Hope and Marshall (2000) 65–73. Ogden, D. (2017) The Legend of Seleucus. Cambridge. Olufsen, O. (1911) The Emir of Bukhara and His Country. Copenhagen. Pack, R. A. (1978) “Pseudo-Aristotelis Epistola ad Alexandrum de Regimine Sanitatis a Quodam Nicolao Versificata.” AHMA 45: 307–25. Pearson, L. (1960) The Lost Historians of Alexander the Great. New York. Pease, S. (1934) “Xenophon’s Cyropaedia: The Complete General.” CJ 29: 436–40. Pédech, P. (1980) “L’expédition d’Alexandre et la Science Grecque.” Megas Alexandros. 2300 Chronia apo ton thanato tou. Thessaloniki: 135–56. Perdu, O. (1985) “Le Monument de Samtoutefnakht à Naples.” REgypt 36: 89–113. Phillips, E. D. (1987) Aspects of Greek Medicine. Philadelphia. Pikoulis, E. A., Petropoulos, J. C. B., Tsigris, C., Pikoulis, N., Leppäniemi, A. K., Pavlakis, E., Gavrielatou, E., Burris, D., Bastounis, E., and Rich, N. M. (2004) “Trauma Manage­ ment in Ancient Greece: Value of Surgical Principles Through the Years.” World Journal of Surgery 28: 425–30. Pinault, J. R. (1992) Hippocrates: Lives and Legends. Leiden. Prag, J. N. W. (1990) “Reconstructing King Philip II: the ‘Nice’ Version.” AJA 94: 237–47. Prost, F. (ed) (1999) Armées et Sociétés de la Grèce Classique. Paris. Retsas, S. (2009) “Alexander’s (356–323 BCE) Expeditionary Medical Corps 334–323 BCE.” Journal of Medical Biography 17 (3): 165–69. Riginos, A. S. (1994) “The Wounding of Philip II of Macedon: Fact and Fabrication.” JHS 114: 103–19. Robbins, E. (1993) “The Education of Achilles.” QUCC 45 (3): 7–20. Robinson, D. M. (1941) Excavations at Olynthus. X. Metal and Minor Miscellaneous Finds. Baltimore. Ruffin, J. R. (1992) “The Efficacy of Medicine during the Campaigns of Alexander the Great.” Military Medicine 157: 467–75. Rzepka, J. (2017) “The Casualty Figures of Alexander’s Army,” in Howe et al. (2017) 169–76. Salazar, C. F. (1997) “Fragments of Lost Hippocratic Writings in Galen’s Glossary.” CQ 47: 543–47. Salazar, C. F. (1998a) “Die Verwundetenfürsorge in Heeren des Griechischen Altertums.” Sudhoffs Archiv 82 (1): 92–97. Salazar, C. F. (1998b) “Getting the Point; Paul of Aegina on Arrow Wounds.” Sudhoffs Archiv 82 (2): 170–87. Salazar, C. F. (2000) The Treatment of War Wounds in Graeco-Roman Antiquity. Leiden. Salazar, C. F. (2013) “Treating the Sick and Wounded,” in Campbell and Tritle (2013) 294–311.

The Medical Corps in the Army of Alexander the Great

341

Samama, E. (2003) Les médecins dans le monde grec: sources épigraphiques sur la naissance d’un corps medical. Geneva. Samama, E. (2017) La Médecine de Guerre en Grèce Ancienne. Turnhout. Sandoval-Gutiérrez, J. L. (2017) “Chest Trauma of Alexander the Great, a Pneumology Approach.” Gaceta Médica de México 153 (6): 354–60. Schefold, K. (1968) Der Alexander-Sarkophag. Berlin. Scurlock, J. and Andersen, B. R. (2005) Diagnoses in Assyrian and Babylonian Medicine: Ancient Sources, Translations and Modern Medical Analyses. Urbana, IL. Sherwin-White, S. M. (1978) Ancient Cos. Göttingen. Sierra Martín, C. (2012) “De Anfiarao el Adivino a Filipo el Médico Mántica y Medicina en Acarnania.” Klio 94 (2): 312–24. Sierra Martin, C. and Antela-Bernardez, B. (eds) (2019) Historia y Medicina en la Antigüedad. Zaragosa. Singer, C. (1956) Galen: On Anatomical Procedures. London. Smith, W. D. (1990) Hippocrates: Pseudepigraphic Writings. Leiden. Somma, A. M. (2014) “Alexander’s Wounds as a Paradigm for War Surgery,” in Michae­ lides (2014) 145–48. Spawforth, A. J. S. (2007a) “The Court of Alexander the Great, Between Europe and Asia,” in Spawforth (2007b) 82–120. Spawforth, A. J. S. (ed) (2007b) The Court and Court Society in Ancient Monarchies. Cambridge. Sprawski, S. (1990) Jason of Pherae. Krakow. Squillance, G. (2004) “Le Lettere di Menecrate / Zeus Zeus ad Agesilao di Sparta e Filippo II di Macedonia.” Kokalos 46: 175–91. Squillance, G. (2012) Menecrate di Siracusa: un Medico del IV Secolo a.C. tra Sicilia, Grecia e Macedonia. Hildesheim. Squillance, G. (2015) “Menecrates of Syracuse: Reality and Fiction,” in Althoff et al. (2015) 79–92. Stampolidis, N. C. and Tassoulas, Y. (eds) (2014) Hygieia: Health, Illness, Treatment from Homer to Galen. Athens. Stathopoulos, P. (2017) “Did King Philip II of Ancient Macedonia Suffer a ZygomaticoOrbital Fracture? A Maxillofacial Surgeon’s Approach.” Craniomaxillofacial Trauma Reconstruction 10 (3): 183–87. Steinman, A. (1987) “Adverse Effects of Heat and Cold on Military Operations.” Military Medicine 152: 382–90. Sternberg, R. H. (1999) “The Transport of Sick and Wounded Soldiers in Classical Greece.” Phoenix 53: 191–205. Sternberg, R. H. (2006) Tragedy Offstage: Suffering and Sympathy in Ancient Athens. Austin.

342

Karunanithy

Stewart, E., Harris, E. M., and Lewis, D. (eds) (2020) Skilled Labour and Professionalism in Ancient Greece and Rome. Cambridge. Stewart, R. O. (2014) “Alexander and Battlefield Medicine.” Paper presented at The VI International Alexander Symposium, University of Utah, Salt Lake, UT. Stoneman, R. (trans) (1991) The Greek Alexander Romance. London. Sweetman, J. (1975) “The Crimean War and the Formation of the Medical Staff Corps.” Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research 53 (214): 113–19. Syvänne, I. (2021) Gordian III and Philip the Arab. Barnsley. Tachydromos (2013) “Iatrikά ergaleίa 2.000 chrόnwn!” Accessed November 11, 2021. http://www.taxydromos.gr/article.php?id=75302&cat. Tritle, L. A. (2009) “Alexander and the Greeks: Artists and Soldiers, Friends and Enemies,” in Heckel and Tritle (2009) 121–40. Trubuhovich, R. V. (2018) “Primary Sources and the Tracheostomy Legend about Alexander the Great,” Journal of Anesthesia History 4 (1): 38. van de Eijk, P. J. (2001) Diocles of Carystus: A Collection of the Fragments with Translation. Volume Two: Commentary. Leiden. Vaughan, P. B. (1980) “Local Cold Injury: Menace to Military Operations.” Military Medicine 145: 306–307. Vilela, E. and Fontes-Carvalho, R. (2020) “Alexander the Great Trusts the Doctor Philip.” JACC: Case Reports 2 (8): 1229–31. von Graeve, V. (1970) Der Alexandersarkophag und seine Werkstatt. Berlin. Warner, A. G. and Warner, E. (trans) (1912) The Shāhnāma of Firdausi, Vol. 5. London. Whitehead, D. (trans) (2016) Philo Mechanicus, On Sieges. Stuttgart. Will, W. (ed) (1998) Alexander der Grosse: Eine Welteroberung und ihr Hintergrund. Bonn. Winter, F. (1912) Der Alexandersarkophag aus Sidon. Strasbourg.

Part 5 The Psychology of War

∵

Chapter 15

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies, 359–323 BCE Lee L. Brice 1

Introduction

During his twenty-three year reign Philip II reformed the military, expanded the kingdom, and gradually extended his hegemony over most of Greece through a combination of diplomacy and military campaigning. Before his death he launched a war against the Persian Empire. Beginning in 336 BCE,1 Alexander used the army to assert control over Macedonia, Thrace, Illyria, and Greece before invading Asia. His decade of warfare resulted in conquering the Persian Empire and uniting it with the Macedonian kingdom. These are the achievements of these kings, the results of their military talent and successful leadership. But this chapter takes as its focus the soldiers. It is difficult to fully grasp and appreciate the nature of Philip’s and Alexander’s military activity without paying some attention to the soldiers. A focus on soldiers provides an opportunity to consider an understudied feature of Philip’s and Alexander’s campaigns: aspects of the soldiers’ experience. The circumstances experienced by the soldiers, which may generally be characterized as the conditions of military service, have much to inform us about the impact of the wars on the men who fought for these kings. Given the length and difficulty of the various campaigns it is hardly surprising that the soldiers’ experiences were stressful and resulted in occasional eruptions of military unrest. Despite the stresses and strains, the Macedonian soldiers remained steadfast in their loyalty to their kings and served out their wars. 1.1 Conditions of Service Conditions of service can be divided into a couple types, the first of which are the aspects of military responsibilities and provisions established and provided 1 All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated.

© Lee L. Brice, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_017

346

Brice

by the state or employer—the institutional conditions of service. These features were theoretically within the control of the state or king, commander, and officers. Training, discipline, duties, assignments, promotion, punishment, medical care, and demobilization are all institutional conditions, as are official particulars such as pay and bonuses, food and drink supply, benefits such as special rights, rewards for valor, rest breaks during campaign, entertainments, survivor benefits, and punishments.2 Among these institutional conditions the only obviously negative points are demotion and punishment. Most of the rest of these institutional conditions are positive or neutral, but when any of them were delayed, undermined, removed, or overlooked it could result in military unrest. We can think of the phenomena soldiers (and officers) encountered in the daily course of service and over which they and their officers generally had little or no control as another type of military service conditions—field conditions. Some of these were positive features or qualities including camaraderie, cohesion, community, status, and enrichment. The potentially negative conditions of service included stresses of various kinds including frustration, boredom, fear, wounds, disease, exposure to climate, trauma, loss, uncertainty, cruelty, crime, exhaustion, and death. During Alexander’s campaign, the institutional and field conditions of military service became an increasing problem during and after 330. 1.2 Military Unrest We should not be surprised to learn that the armies of Philip and Alexander occasionally experienced indiscipline, some of it serious, both in individual and collective outbursts. These incidents should not be taken as a sign of necessarily weak leadership or poor-quality soldiers. The Macedonian military was a human institution, with its own society and subject to human responses to strain. War is stressful. Where service conditions are more stressful for groups or individuals, outbreaks of military unrest will become increasingly more likely than in periods of peaceful service. The forces that stimulate military unrest vary, but there are some common causes, not all of which can be seen in the armies discussed in this volume.3 Individuals may break discipline for their own personal reasons that often remain unknown, but when a group acts out collectively, we sometimes have 2 Mercenaries would have received these terms when they contracted. See Meeus, Rzepka, Lacey, and Karunanithy in this volume. 3 Brice (2020b) 115–21. The terms “indiscipline” and “military unrest” are synonymous in terms of incidents.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

347

more luck in tracing the cause. Such collective indiscipline is much more serious. Any military that depends on regular discipline for success will have the potential for outbreaks of indiscipline. Since soldiers are trained to work together under stress and in the efficient use of their weapons, outbreaks of collective military unrest have the potential to become extremely violent and disruptive.4 Indiscipline does not spontaneously erupt—its causes are often rooted in the conditions of service. Both institutional and field conditions can stimulate military unrest. Lack of pay or enrichment, poor food, terrible living conditions, poor leadership, and broken promises are regular causes of insubordination, particularly of collective incidents. Another stress that contributes to indiscipline, but one which has not traditionally been appreciated as an experience of ancient soldiers, is exhaustion. Study of ancient militaries confirms what has been observed in modern conflicts—soldiers fighting in active combat over a lengthy period, regardless of how successful they are, become increasingly prone to acts of indiscipline.5 Community formation through the cohesive bonds soldiers (and even units) form with other soldiers (horizontal) and with officers (vertical) can be a positive aspect of military service.6 When these ties are damaged or broken (e.g., through death or disagreement) indiscipline can result from the stress. One additional conventional cause of military unrest in all periods is incitement. This impetus is exactly what it sounds like—someone or some group intentionally creating conditions in which soldiers become indisciplined. Regardless of how it is achieved, incitement occurs in order that someone or some group may profit from the indiscipline, often for political reasons.7 Given the history of Argead challengers for the throne it was a genuine threat. There may have been ‘concern’ about Attalos inciting military unrest in the Asian expeditionary force after Philip’s murder and it provided an additional excuse for Parmenion’s execution (see discussion in sections 4 Brice (2020b, 2020e). On regular discipline and its application to the militaries of Philip and Alexander see Carney (1996/2015); Brice (2015) 69–70. See also Wrightson and Rzepka in this volume. 5 Brice (2020d) 264–66. 6 On cohesion generally: Hall (2023) 1–5 with citations of earlier work; Rawlings (2023) 159–63. On its connection with unrest, especially how strong cohesion can become a problem: Brice (2020b) 120. 7 The military unrest of the so-called Fimbriani in 86–84 BCE is a good example of incitement for what appears to be criminal (plunder) gain: (Livy, Per. 182; Strabo 13.1.27; Vell. Pat. 2.24.1; App. Mithr. 51–52). This incident may not be as unique as has sometimes been thought; see Brice (2020b) 116, 118–119; Wolff (2013).

348

Brice

4.2 and 5.2). But there is no evidence for political incitement of military unrest until after Alexander’s death.8 Over the course of their campaigns, the armies of Philip and Alexander experienced occasional outbreaks of military unrest in which conditions of service played a role. These incidents did not result in full-blown military rebellion against the king, but military unrest was an unpredictable threat to discipline and success. Two such outbreaks were quite serious and one of these forced Alexander to turn back from further campaigning to the east. That both kings were able to restore or maintain discipline without reducing their soldiers’ loyalty is a testament to their leadership.9 1.3 Source Biases The extent to which we can be specific about the conditions of service is dependent on a limited source tradition which existed within literary genre conventions different in some important ways from modern conventions. It is commonplace to complain about our sources, but the predilections and genre conventions of ancient and more recent historiography are factors just as important in determining the extent to which historians have treated soldiers’ experiences. This historiographical bias is largely the result of our sources, which focus, as we would expect, on the kings and officers. Since some of the original sources our extant authors drew upon were written by officers, including Ptolemy, Nearchos, and Aristoboulos, and the remaining authors of works on Philip and Alexander were also elites, this preference in what historians chose to examine and write about is hardly surprising. It is probable that even if we had more of the original sources, we would still know little about what the soldiers, rowers, and lower-ranking officers were doing because ancient authors were not interested in the men at the sharp end of these campaigns. Their gaze was explicitly on the kings. When they did discuss soldiers’ activities and service directly it was because it served their literary needs—drama, entertainment, contrast. The source bias has been compounded by a traditional bias in military history that has focused on leadership biographies of kings, commanders, and officers. Nearly fifty years ago, Face of Battle drew attention to soldiers’ experiences, but Keegan’s work and the approach to military history it initiated

8 No one is reported as having incited the indiscipline at Opis. Alexander’s actions triggered it, but that is not incitement: see section 6.2. 9 Carney (1996/2015); King in this volume.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

349

have not changed the elite interests of military history as much as might have been expected.10 Investigation is also limited by the authors who were negotiating the conventions of literary genres, contemporary culture, and their audiences’ expectations.11 They tended to prefer writing about that which was exciting, dramatic, and unusual rather than the mundane tedium of most of the conditions soldiers encountered. When sources did relate the non-combat activities of the soldiers it was because they were dramatic events or illuminated some aspect of Philip’s or Alexander’s character. This intentional emphasis on the drama is a reality of the genre that modern historians sometimes neglect. “Military historiography is no different from any other historiography in its origin as a branch of literature and as such is subject to literary norms and priorities,” observed Edward Luttwak; “Of these, the first is the writer’s need to entertain readers or at least attract their attention … whatever is dramatic easily displaces what is merely important.”12 With their focus on the kings and the dramatic we are hamstrung in our efforts to explore these militaries “from the bottom up” and expand our knowledge of the soldiers’ and rowers’ experiences. Despite these issues, it is possible to draw certain basic conclusions about service conditions from our evidence.13 Not surprisingly given their interest in Alexander, our sources tend to concentrate on the experiences of the Macedonian soldiers rather than the allies and subject soldiers. This preference matters because Philip’s army drew increasingly on non-Macedonians during his reign, while Alexander’s army with its mercenaries, allies, and subjects supplementing the Macedonians was diverse from the beginning of his reign and became more so over time.14 Despite this myopia, numerous negative and positive features of the Macedonian military service can be generalized for the mercenary, allied, and subject units during Alexander’s campaigns. 10 Keegan (1976). On traditional military history, the “Face of Battle school,” and New Military History see Brice (2020a). 11 Ancient literary conventions included the use of topoi, an acceptance that added plausible flourishes and details in historical narratives were appropriate, and social signaling among elites. E.g., Woodman (1988); Bosworth (1993); Lendon (2009, 2017); Brice (forthcoming). 12 Luttwak (1993) 4. It is a literary convention not limited to ancient sources. 13 Contra Howe and Müller (2012). While we need to be cautious, we do not need to throw out the sources entirely: Lendon (2009); Anson (2015, 66 n. 6); King in this volume, with whom I agree. 14 See Landucci, Asirvatham, and Heckel in this volume.

350 2

Brice

Service Conditions under Philip II

During a time of crisis in 359, Philip II took command and ruled Macedonia.15 That he was able to rebuild and reform the military rapidly is a testament to his leadership and knowledge. What he did with diplomacy, reorganization, and training is covered elsewhere in this volume,16 and therefore this section of the chapter is focused on his soldiers’ service experiences, to the extent we know them. What emerges from a review of our sources is that, during the reign of Philip II, we know precious little in the way of trustworthy specifics. That granted, we can still generalize about some of the conditions his soldiers experienced and two significant episodes of collective indiscipline. Philip’s military record demonstrates his high expectations of his soldiers, on which they usually delivered. The king raised his army, in part, through royal land grants to men and families in return for serving in the army. In this way, compensation and loyalty were institutional conditions from the beginning of their military service. It was an effective strategy.17 Between 359 and 336 his soldiers took the field nearly every year on campaign, and even when they were not on an attested campaign, in 343,18 Philip had soldiers serving garrison duty in several Thessalian cities (Diod. Sic. 16.3–4, 8, 14, 22.3, 31.6, 34.4–35.5, 37.3, 38.1–2, 52.9, 53–55, 59–60, 69.7, 71.1–2, 74.2–77.3, 84–87, 89, 91.2; Polyaenus, Strat. 2.38.2, 4.2, 18.2, 30.3, 36.3, 46.8–9, 49.1). The field conditions of service in this period were characterized by annual campaigning and difficult fighting, in battles and in sieges.19 It is unlikely that every eligible man went on campaign every year, but given that Philip was rebuilding the infantry and remained militarily active, many men would have served multiple years during this period. Those soldiers who served annually would have been at risk of exhaustion from the scale of marching and combat combined with the associated stresses of military activity. These conditions applied equally to the allied and subject soldiers as well as the mercenaries, who became more numerous in the military as Philip’s kingdom and reach expanded. Specific details of military service conditions under Philip II are limited, but there is much we can infer to supplement what our sources explicitly report. 15 We know few details about the Macedonian military before Philip II. Readers seeking more information on the earlier period should examine Lloyd (1996a); Sekunda (2010) 448–49; Hatzopolous (2020). 16 See Pownall, Wrightson, Rzepka, and King in this volume. 17 Bosworth (2010) 92–93; Hatzopolous (2020) 50–60; See Meeus and Rzepka in this volume. 18 Given the inconsistent coverage of our sources it is possible there was campaigning in 343 too. 19 See Pownall and Baynham in this volume.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

351

Training was intentionally arduous. Men had to learn military discipline for the march and combat. Soldiers had to carry thirty days of rations and a full pack on daily long marches in all kinds of conditions (Frontin. Str. 4.1.6; Diod. Sic. 16.3.1).20 Philip pushed his men particularly hard during some campaigns and sieges (Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.1). As they formed cohesive bonds through the training and campaigning soldiers found camaraderie and community as well as pay and booty. As far as difficulties in payment or opportunities for enrichment, common problems in some militaries, we have only unreliable sources (Dem. 1.22–23; Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.6) that Philip was short of funds.21 Philip equipped his men with weapons at his own expense.22 He also seems to have freely rewarded soldiers and units that distinguished themselves in combat, even renaming his infantry phalanx the pezhetairoi (“foot companions”). It seems likely that given the nature and locations of his campaigns and the difficulties, his soldiers could not consistently count on gathering spoils by plundering the defeated, but the successful sieges (e.g., Methone and Olynthos) would have enriched the king and his soldiers. Environment and climate provided additional challenging conditions. Macedonia was dominated by mountains and divided by rivers. The Macedo­ nians and their regional allies were accustomed to traversing the mountainous terrain and crossing these rivers. The heat and humidity of the summer could wear down soldiers on long marches if they did not have water. Campaigning in the Macedonian winter was harsh. Warfare was endemic during this period, but combat was not continuous as there were often seasonal breaks. We know that Philip could engage in winter campaigning, but does not seem to have done so most years, despite Demosthenes’ assertions (Dem. 8.11, 9.50, 18.216 and 235).23

20

21 22 23

On the training, see Rzepka in this volume. On the rations they carried, see García-Molina (2023); Sears (2023) 222–24. Donald Engels (1978, 12, 14–16, repeated in 2013, 356) asserted in his study that Philip banned any use of wagons, which is part of the reason his soldiers carried their rations. Such a conclusion is unwarranted from Frontinus’ statement. It seems unlikely that Philip did not ever use wagons and pack animals to carry additional supplies and siege equipment. Cf. Devine (1979) 273; Cawkwell (1980) 245; Hammond (1980, 1983a); Brice (2023) 417–420; see also Lacey in this volume. On the Polyaenus story, Roisman (2015, 78) calls it a sympotic story to entertain; Carney (1996/2015, 47 n. 1) suggests this story indicates that Philip may have sometimes been late with pay. See Meeus in this volume. On pay and rewards see Meeus in this volume. Consider the source. Given the extent to which Demosthenes was hostile to Macedon and trying to persuade his audience to pursue anti-Macedonian policies it is surprising how often his works are used uncritically to draw conclusions about Philip’s army.

352

Brice

Resting during the winter, when it was possible, allowed the soldiers to regain strength and tend to their farms. All this information suggests that the field conditions of military service for his soldiers could be strenuous and stressful. These were in some ways balanced by the institutional conditions made possible through the victories and the king’s talent, which help explain the soldiers’ loyalty to him and to his memory during Alexander’s reign. 3

Indiscipline under Philip II

Philip’s reign began amid indiscipline following the defeat of Perdiccas III and his army by Bardylis’ Illyrian kingdom. Regardless of how many men died, the defeat resulted in the army disintegrating and a general mood of despair (Diod. Sic. 16.2.4–3.1).24 Philip was not in command when it occurred, but he had to deal with it, which he did with energy and alacrity. As soon as he took up leadership, he began restoring social control over the army by recruiting men and reforming the training and discipline regimes.25 The treaties and bribes he arranged with Bardylis and other enemies bought him the time to do so. This episode is not a negative reflection on Philip’s leadership. The only outbreak of collective indiscipline recorded as having resulted from Philip’s leadership occurred in 354 or 353 because of Philip’s engagements with Onomarchos.26 According to Diodorus, Ὀνόμαρχος ὑπερέχων τοῖς πλήθεσι δυσὶ μάχαις ἐνίκησε καὶ πολλοὺς τῶν Μακεδόνων ἀνεῖλεν. Φίλιππος δ᾽ εἰς τοὺς ἐσχάτους κινδύνους περικλεισθεὶς καὶ τῶν στρατιωτῶν διὰ τὴν ἀθυμίαν καταλιπόντων αὐτὸν παραθαρσύνας τὸ πλῆθος μόγις ἐποίησεν αὐτοὺς εὐπειθεῖς. Onomarchos outnumbered and defeated them in two battles and killed many Macedonians. Philip perceived the extreme danger of the situation as his soldiers were in such low spirits they were deserting. But

24 Carney (1996/2015) 34–35, 47 n. 1; Pownall and King in this volume. 25 The last stage in an incident of indiscipline is “restoration of social control,” see Brice (2020b) 52–53. On the reforms see Rzepka and Wrightson in this volume. 26 There is no consensus on the date of this defeat (354 or 353). Martin (1981) argues for 354, followed by Anson (2017); Griffith (HM2, 268–69) uses the more common 353, followed by Gabriel (2010, 127), Worthington (2014, 44), and Anson (2020, 66–67).

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

353

he succeeded in encouraging many of them and restoring order—just barely. (Diod. Sic. 16.35.2)27 The specifics of the battle are provided by Polyaenus (Strat. 2.36.3, 38.2) and have been debated by modern scholars.28 Diodorus’ report that there were two defeats may help to explain why the Macedonian soldiers and allies were so crushed in spirit after the second defeat. Philip’s army had not been defeated since he took command in 359. The loss of comrades and the stress from the first defeat may have stung, and then the overwhelming second defeat broke the spirit of some soldiers, causing them to break discipline out of fear and a lack of confidence. Philip was able to extricate his army from Thessaly after restoring social control over his soldiers.29 There is no testimony that he punished anyone because of this outbreak. He used the winter to rest his soldiers, recruit additional men, and reestablish discipline. The following year Philip’s army thoroughly defeated Onomarchos (Diod. Sic. 16.35.3–6).30 Afterwards, there are no further reports of indiscipline until his assassination.31 The suggestion that there was only the one incident of collective indiscipline during Philip’s command does not reflect the reality of nearly twenty years of annual campaigning. Service was by no means easy. More active combat led to more exhaustion and experiences of numerous other tensions and stresses that can trigger indiscipline.32 Philip’s army suffered other setbacks. His positive responses to victory, including rewards, rest, and entertainments for the soldiers all contributed to overcoming problems within the army, but they do not eliminate such tensions. There probably were numerous unrecorded incidents of individual and small-group insubordination among his soldiers. Desertion or disorderly conduct of all kinds is not unheard of in ancient militaries, even where they are often victorious. Most indiscipline is minor in scale and never makes it into reports, even in present-day militaries. There is such a dearth of detailed information about Philip’s campaigning that there is little further about indiscipline we can discuss in detail. 27 Translation by the author. 28 On this battle see Griffith in HM2, 268–70; Gabriel (2010) 127–32. 29 Carney (1996/2015, 35, 47 n. 1) notes the incident as an occasion when the king used his oratory to restore order. 30 See Pownall, Willekes, Reames, and King in this volume. 31 Since he was a member of the army and serving in a military capacity as bodyguard (somatophylax) Pausanias’ murder of Philip II could be seen as an act of military insubordination. But the assassination is complicated; it is beyond the scope of this chapter to untangle the assassination. See most recently Heckel et al. (2017). 32 Brice (2020b, 2020d).

354 4

Brice

Service Conditions and Indiscipline under Alexander, 336–330

4.1 Campaign in Greece The military his father left Alexander was disciplined, experienced, loyal, organized, and the best in Greece at the time. Little wonder then that Alexander also expected much from his soldiers, as he demonstrated during campaigns that lasted a bit more than thirteen years. Some aspects of military service during his reign brought on new challenges and some predictable responses. The conditions his soldiers experienced, some of which were extreme, tested the discipline of some men, but they remained loyal throughout. Once he became king, Alexander quickly confirmed the importance he attached to the soldiers. The official terms of service the Macedonian army received under Philip were affirmed as part of his reassurance of the people (Diod. Sic. 17.2.2; Just. Epit. 11.1.8–10). Diodorus does not report what these promises were, but we may include pay, rewards, and confirmation of land grants.33 Training and recruitment continued as it had before, and discipline was vigorously pressed (Diod. Sic. 17.2.3).34 The extent to which the army, at this point, included allies and mercenaries is uncertain.35 In many ways the conditions of service these first two years of Alexander’s reign were much as they had been under Philip and would be for the next several years. Alexander took the initiative to secure his position and the support of Greeks to the South by marching his army to Boeotia and Corinth, where he affirmed all his father’s measures and treaties, including being elected hegemon of the campaign against Persia (Diod. Sic. 17.4; Arr. Anab. 1.1.2–3; Just. Epit. 11.2.5, 3.1–2). The following year he campaigned as far north as the territory of the Getae, north of the Danube, and against several other tribes and kingdoms northwest and west of the kingdom. Arrian, in particular, provides many colorful details of the challenges his soldiers overcame, including dodging wagons rolled downhill, crossing several rivers, and finally pushing south by forced marches to Thebes (Diod. Sic. 17.8.1; Just. Epit. 11.2.10, 3.6; Plut. Alex. 11.3–4; Arr. 33

See Meeus and King in this volume. It is not clear that these terms included Alexander’s grants to veterans and their families after Granicus and in 324; See Arr. Anab. 1.16.5, 7.5.1–3, 12.1–2. 34 See Rzepka in this volume. 35 Justin (11.1.2–3) suggests some allies and mercenaries were relieved at Philip’s death as they were tired of service far from home and under subjugation (longinquae militiae). Such a generalized statement is not to be given excessive weight. It is likely some soldiers or riders (e.g., Thessalians or Agrianians) were seeking release from the campaigns, but Justin’s report is exactly the kind of plausible statement necessary to the circumstances, which we cannot rely upon overmuch. For comparison, see Lendon (2017).

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

355

Anab. 1.1.4–7.7).36 This pace was strenuous, but manageable in the short term as Alexander still made time to rest his men and horses (Arr. Anab. 1.7.4). The siege and sack of Thebes was brutal but not a novel military operation for an army which had sacked Olynthos (Diod. Sic. 17.8–14; Just. Epit. 11.3.7–4.8; Plut. Alex. 11.4–12; Arr. Anab. 1.7.7–1.9).37 The army returned afterward to families or land if they had it at the end of the campaigning season for rest and recuperation as well as work in anticipation of the war beginning in 334. 4.2 The Campaign in Asia While Alexander campaigned in Greece, the expeditionary force already in Anatolia was experiencing serious problems, though perhaps not the problems Diodorus emphasizes. Philip had sent a Macedonian invasion force into Anatolia in Spring 336 under the command of Parmenion and Attalos (Diod. Sic. 16.91.2, 17.2.4; Just. Epit. 9.5.8). They were to open the campaign, secure territory, and beat back any Persian response, but the campaign did not go as planned.38 The Persian force sent against the Macedonians defeated them in one engagement and generally limited their ability to conquer much beyond the coast (Diod. Sic. 17.7.8–10; Polyaenus, Strat. 5.44.5). The defeat and the inability of the army to expand its area of control may have resulted in genuine frustration and restiveness among some soldiers. Those conditions, if manifest, would explain Diodorus’ report (17.5.2) about indiscipline among the army, which he associated with Attalos.39 But we lack enough information to draw any firm conclusions about restive behavior during this period; it remains a possibility. The full invasion of Anatolia and the campaign that followed, at least until 330, saw similar service patterns to which the soldiers (including allies and mercenaries) may have been accustomed. The battles, sieges, and other military aspects of the campaign were the kinds of engagements to which the army 36 37 38 39

On these campaigns see most recently Heckel (2020) 25–40. On the difficulties of destroying a city see especially Fachard and Harris (2021a). Hammond (1980) 66; Heckel (2020) 13–17, 45–48. According to Diodorus and Plutarch (17.2.4–6, 5.1–2; Dem. 23.2), Attalos conspired with Athens to revolt and incite indiscipline in the advance force. Diodorus’ language, εὐεργετικὸς δ᾽ ὣν καὶ ταῖς ὁμιλίαις ἐκθεραπεύων τοὺς στρατιώτας μεγάλης ἐτύγχανεν ἀποδοχῆς ἐν τῷ στρατοπέδῳ (“[Attalos] gained through his generosity and interactions with the soldiers’ great popularity in the camp,” 17.2.4), echoes standard language in other ancient sources of officers’ incitement of soldiers (e.g., Tac. Ann. 2.55.5 and the SCPP ll. 52–56). Just because the language is standard does not mean it did not happen, but in this case, it smacks of a topos. The whole incident reads like a justification “after the fact” for Alexander’s elimination of an important, socially elite officer. See also Heckel (2016) 11–12, (2020) 47.

356

Brice

was accustomed.40 The scale of effort was what was new. The opposing armies were occasionally larger than they had encountered previously, but the battles and skirmishes did not last for extended periods: Issus and Gaugamela were day-long battles.41 These limited-duration engagements did not by themselves cause exhaustion among the soldiers. The siege of Tyre, which was marked by numerous difficulties and stressful conditions over an extended period, probably did cause physical and mental exhaustion, but assaults were nothing new to men who had participated in the sieges of Perinthos, Halicarnassus, and Miletos.42 This general pattern of service conditions continued through at least the burning of Persepolis in 330. One service condition that we might expect to have changed was opportunities for enrichment via booty taken in Asia (until 330). The battlefield victories and sacking of cities provided the army with access to immense plunder, both material and human.43 Diodorus and Plutarch, for example, make clear the scale of the plundering following the victory at Issus: καὶ κατέλαβε τοὺς Μακεδόνας τὸν μὲν ἄλλον πλοῦτον ἐκ τοῦ βαρβαρικοῦ στρατοπέδου φέροντας και ἄγοντας ὑπερβάλλοντα πλήθει. (“[Alexander] found the Macedonians carrying off the other wealth, which was of surpassing quantity, from the barbarian camp,” Plut. Alex. 24.1; see also Diod. Sic. 17.35 on the human toll). Similar episodes occurred after other battles and the sacking of population centers.44 But plundering was not a change for experienced soldiers. Philip’s army had plundered cities on a large scale, as in Olynthos and Methone. Alexander’s soldiers had plundered the northern peoples they conquered in 335, and then in Thebes on a large scale. As with the siege of Tyre, it was not the activity, but the scale of opportunities that was different. A bigger problem for soldiers was what to do with the plunder once they had it. There were merchants who specialized in converting booty into cash or credit for commanders and soldiers (Arr. Anab. 6.22.4, 23.6; Just. Epit. 12.11). But the soldiers had to retain it long enough to get it to a suitable merchant.45 Alexander Meeus points out in this volume that it is not entirely clear how much of that booty the soldiers were able to keep, though some soldiers did accumulate plunder, particularly at Persepolis (Diod. 17.70.1–6; Curt. 5.6.1–8, 40 Heckel (2020) 45–75, 89–97, 104–16, 134–50. Also covered elsewhere in this volume. Some allies would have been more accustomed to it than others. 41 Sears in this volume. 42 See Heckel (2020); Baynham in this volume. On the mental strain of siege assaults, see Levithan (2020). 43 On the human spoils see Antela-Bernárdez (2015). 44 Holt (2016) 68–94 and 181–85; Meeus in this volume. 45 O’Connor (2015); Trundle (2020) 22–25; but individual merchants were less likely to go far from population centers where they could liquidate the spoils.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

357

6.6.14–17; Plut. Alex. 37.3–5, 57.1–2, Aem. 12.6; Polyaenus, Strat. 4.3.10).46 The fate of plunder becomes an issue from 329 on, as we shall see. It is likely that plunder abandoned (Curt. 6.6.14; Plut. Alex. 57.1–2, Aem. 12.6; Polyaenus, Strat. 4.3.10) or lost in calamity (Arr. Anab. 6.25.4–5) caused frustration, but there is no report that it led to serious military unrest. Following the Battle of the Granicus River there was a significant change in the institutional terms of military service. Arrian (1.16.4), Diodorus (17.21.6), and Justin (11.6.13) report that following the victory Alexander gave the Macedonian dead a magnificent burial with honors. Diodorus goes on to state, σπεύδων διὰ ταύτης τῆς τιμῆς τοὺς στρατιώτας προθυμοτέρους κατασκευάσαι πρὸς τοὺς ἐν ταῖς μάχαις κινδύνους (“he hoped these honors would encourage the soldiers to face with greater zeal the dangers of combat,” 17.21.6). The honorable burial was not a new condition of service. Philip had honored the Macedonian dead of Chaeronea with honorable cremation and burial in a mound on the site. What made the post-Granicus honors special were the statues to honor some of the dead men. Diodorus’ insight or suggestion regarding Alexander’s possible motivation is interesting.47 Arrian (Anab. 1.16.5) and Justin (11.6.13) report new rewards for service. Alexander granted the families of the dead men (parents and children) freedom from all taxes and personal duties for the future. It is assumed this reward applied to all Macedonians who died in battle.48 The combination of commemoration honors and exemptions demonstrated the largesse of the king and reminded the army of their relationship to him.49 In addition to providing encouragement and solace to soldiers and riders facing difficult fighting, this new institutional benefit perhaps encouraged recruitment. Another change in the conditions of service was the end of seasonal rest in Macedonia. This may not seem like an enormous change, but rest and recovery are important. Without it soldiers become prone to exhaustion.50 It had been typical under Philip to not campaign year-round.51 Alexander released 46 Holt (2015) 119–45; Meeus in this volume. 47 On war memorials including Chaeronea, see Ma (2008); Low et al. (2012); Liston (2020) 83–89; Sears (2024). 48 It seems likely that the release from personal duties did not include exclusion from recruitment, but we are not certain. Holt (2016) 23–43. 49 On the relationship between the king and the army see King and D’Agostini in this volume. 50 In addition to resting, the returning men could contribute to their family’s livelihood; Carney in this volume. 51 Discussed previously in relation to Philip’s campaigning. Sekunda (2010, 450–51) disagrees, suggesting continuous, year-round service emerged later during Philip’s reign, but that conclusion is not justified by Diodorus’ reports (16.3–4, 8, 14, 22.3, 31.6, 34.4–35.5, 37.3, 38.1–2, 52.9, 53–55, 59–60, 69.7, 71.1–2, 74.2–77.3, 84–87, 89, 91.2).

358

Brice

the army after the campaigns of 336 and 335 to return to their families for rest. During winter 334, Alexander sent the recently married men and officers back to Macedonia from Caria, for family visitation (Arr. Anab. 1.24.1–2) and recruitment. This release was possible because of the season and the relatively short distance to Macedon at this point. The family visits would have encouraged production of the next generation, as well as good will, and when they returned, they brought with them new recruits. Once the army marched beyond Tarsus it became impracticable to send men back to Macedon on temporary leave or for medical care. The end of seasonal campaigning in or near Macedonia meant men no longer had an opportunity to return to their families for rest and it put a greater economic burden on the families left at home.52 In addition to the distance involved, the necessities of combat, maintaining unit cohesion, and logistics also limited opportunities for furlough. Once Alexander was east of Gordium he learned Darius was marching west; he could not spare anyone. The same intelligence came to him after his army departed Egypt in 331. Alexander continued to give his men brief rest breaks when he could and longer breaks during the winters spent in Egypt and Persepolis. But furloughs, such as they were, seem to have occurred with the army, such as in Egypt in winter 332/331 or Persepolis in winter 331/330.53 The only reported incident of collective unrest during the period 334–330 was the result of fear. After crossing the Tigris river in 331, on the way to meet Darius, there was a penumbral eclipse of the moon. The soldiers took fright at this event and became restive (Curt. 4.10.2–7; Plut. Alex. 31.8; Arr. Anab. 3.7.6; Pliny HN 2). In his rhetorical version of the event, Curtius reports that the soldiers panicked and became pro seditione (“near mutiny”), blaming Alexander’s ambitions. Curtius then reports that Alexander resolved the incident by having the Egyptian priests address the soldiers and tell them that it was a positive omen. Arrian has Aristandros, the seer, make the same reading, which Alexander followed up with sacrifices. Once these were complete, the soldiers regained confidence and were ready to fight Darius’ army. Although the episode has been rejected by some historians,54 there is no compelling reason to ignore the accounts of all our sources that soldiers became restive, since we know there was an eclipse and we know such events could cause anxiety.55 52 53 54 55

On the families remaining behind, see Carney in this volume. There is no evidence of furloughs back to Macedon or to other major urban centers (e.g., Egypt, Babylon) far from the “front lines.” Reported by Roisman (2015) n. 22. It was not the only instance of a lunar eclipse playing a role in military unrest: during the 14 CE Pannonian mutiny, Tac. Ann. 1.28; Dio Cass. 57.4.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

359

Roisman is undoubtedly correct that fear, not agitation against Alexander’s leadership is the root cause.56 This episode reminds us that fear is a field condition of military service, one that is not entirely under soldiers’ control. Fear is a normal response to stress caused by an imminent threat of bodily harm, such as in combat.57 Training, discipline, cohesion, and confidence can all help soldiers master their fear, but not eliminate it. As the campaign becomes more intense after 330, stresses including fear will become a more pressing aspect of the army’s collective disposition. Service conditions during this period (336–330) were strenuous at times, but seem not to have resulted in any serious episodes of disciplinary problems. In addition to the eclipse episode there were undoubtedly individual incidents of insubordination that did not receive the consistent attention of our sources (e.g., Arr. Anab. 1.21.1).58 This lack of collective military unrest should not be surprising given the nature of the warfare up to this point. It must have looked as if it was going well, and it may have seemed to the soldiers that it would not last. The army as a whole seems largely to have been committed to completing the war of revenge between the invasion of Asia in 334 and the burning of Persepolis in 330. 5

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline 330–325

5.1 The End of the Hellenic Campaign The rapid chain of events that occurred after Alexander departed Ecbatana put a portion of the army under strain. The chase after Darius required vigorous pursuit and light rations. Alexander gave the force rest breaks, but part of the territory through which they passed lacked water, and the pace was strenuous (Arr. Anab. 3.20.1, 21.6; Plut. Alex. 42.3; Just. Epit. 12.1.1–2). There were casualties among the men and horses from exhaustion. It was not the first time Alexander 56 Both Arrian and Curtius describe a penumbral eclipse. This event is usually dated to September 20, e.g., Bosworth (1988a) 79; Roisman (2015, 83) uses September 21. NASA dates this eclipse to October 1, 331: “Catalog of Lunar Eclipses,” accessed July 31, 2023, https://eclipse.gsfc.nasa.gov/LEcat5/LE-0399--0300.html. 57 On panic see Heidenreich and Roth 2020. On fear and cowardice in ancient armies generally see the relevant chapters in Finn (forthcoming). 58 The episode of two men getting drunk outside Halicarnassus and picking a fight, if true, was merely insubordination. These kinds of individual incidents do not receive attention unless they serve a purpose in the narrative. Skepticism about this incident is warranted, but that does not mean individual incidents of insubordination did not occur or did not result in unexpected outcomes.

360

Brice

had pushed his army for speed, but the strain presented by this march is inescapable. The remainder of the campaigning army caught up at Hecatompylus, where they had a short break to regroup. While the army rested in that city, there may have been an outbreak of agitation or perhaps even collective insubordination. During the summer of 330, Alexander declared the Hellenic campaign of revenge ended and released the Greek allies who wished to return home, paying them handsomely. Alexander then enlisted as mercenaries any former allies who wished to remain with his army (Arr. Anab. 3.19.4–6; Plut. Alex. 42.3; Curt. 6.2.10, 17; Diod. Sic. 17.74.3).59 According to Diodorus, Curtius, and Plutarch the soldiers became restive over continuing the war (Diod. Sic. 17.74.3; Curt. 6.2.15–17; Plut. Alex. 47.1) on account of Darius’ death and the release of the Greek allies (Arrian reports no issues). It is not entirely clear what happened, if anything. Curtius reports, Itaque rumor, otiosi militis vitium, sine auctore percrebruit, regem contentum rebus, quas gessisset, in Macedoniam protinus redire statuisse (“Thus a rumor, which is a vice with soldiers at rest, spread among the army without any authority, that the king, content with his achievements so far, had determined to return to Macedonia immediately,” 6.2.15). Bosworth suggested the Macedonian soldiers “may have come close to mutiny.”60 It would not be surprising if this kind of rumor and agitation occurred among some soldiers once the Greek allies had been released and Darius was dead.61 They had been fighting away from home for four years. It is likely some men on the campaign were less committed to the mission or exhausted from the combat. There is no suggestion it affected many soldiers. According to all the accounts Alexander resolved the incident with a speech. We should be careful in accepting the report too readily or giving it excessive weight. The episode provided ancient authors with an opportunity to show Alexander as a great leader, resolving a “crisis” with a speech.62 Plutarch (Alex. 47.2) even provides Alexander with a cunning turn of phrase, not unlike what Caesar is reported to have employed in 47 to resolve a mutiny (Plut. Caes. 59 Our sources do not agree on when precisely he released the allies. Arrian and Plutarch report he sent them home from Ecbatana, Diodorus states it was after Darius’ death. Curtius has it earlier than Hecatompylus, but is not specific. When precisely this happened is less important than that it occurred before the army regrouped at Hecatompylus. See Asirvatham, in this volume. 60 Bosworth (1988a) 97. Morrison (2001, 38) also takes the reports at face value. 61 Grumbling and vocal agitation are a ubiquitous precursor to collective action, but often do not result in indiscipline, see (Brice 2020b). 62 On the regular topos of Philip and Alexander resolving problems with a speech, see King in this volume.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

361

51; Suet. Caes. 70). The episode also provides Curtius with an opportunity to characterize regular soldiers negatively (e.g., otiosi militis vitium).63 Additional reasons for being skeptical of this report can be found in the conditions of military service, which while stressful, had not been overwhelmingly so and retained some positive features. When Alexander released the Greek allies, he paid them an extraordinary sum each in pay and bonuses.64 This wealth made a strong impression on the Macedonians and other soldiers and riders who remained. The expectations of what riches they could loot and receive would have provided a strong incentive to remain as long as the campaign continued. Finally, it is worth remembering that, to this point (summer 330), the most immediate condition of military service—combat—had not been unusual for these soldiers. Even the new recruits that had joined up before Babylon were accustomed to the pattern and pace of fighting. The campaign required a great deal of marching punctuated by serious combat in battle or siege, conditions like those they had experienced under Philip II and under Alexander before the invasion of Asia. That is not to suggest the campaign was not stressful, as surely it was, but the enemy had been known and violence had been isolated to the battle and the cities. Warfare had, up until 330, taken on a predictable pattern. Changes in the conditions of service emerged soon after the goal of the war changed. 5.2 Satibarzanes, Parmenion, and the Indisciplined Unit, 330 The character of the campaign changed from “revenge” to securing the Asian empire. It did not take long for change in the soldiers’ experience of war to emerge. No sooner had Alexander passed through Areia in 330 than an insurgency erupted behind him and he turned back. Alexander responded quickly but the insurgency continued until his men killed Satibarzanes in combat (Arr. Anab. 3.25.2, 5–7, 28.1–3; Curt. 6.6.20–34; Diod. Sic. 17.78, 81.3, 83.4–6).65 This revolt was the first time units under a satrap appointed by Alexander had turned on and killed a Macedonian officer and his unit. The incident may have been a shock to the army and would have undermined trust in subjects.

63 Curtius’ account reflects the elite bias against soldiers, common in Roman sources; e.g., Kajanto (1970); Woodman (2006); Brice (2020e) 51. 64 On the pay and bonuses, Holt (2016) 120–21, 189 n. 74; Meeus in this volume. 65 Bessus, former satrap of Bactria, had proclaimed himself king and taken the title Artaxerxes V (Arr. Anab. 3.25.3; Curt. 6.6.13; Metz Epitome 3). Howe (2016) argues that Bessus’ campaign was not an insurgency. Regardless, Satibarzanes’ revolt quickly became an insurgency supported by Bessus. On defining insurgency in ancient contexts, see Brice (2016) 5–12; Anson (chap. 3) in this volume.

362

Brice

The ways this new opposition changed the soldiers’ experience of the campaign would become increasingly apparent over the next three years. The trial of Philotas in Drangiane and the subsequent assassination of Parmenion were not the direct result of indiscipline (Diod. Sic. 17.79–80.3; Curt. 6.7–11, 7.2.11–33; Plut. Alex. 49; Arr. Anab. 3.26; Just. Epit. 12.5.3), but these deaths had an impact on discipline in some units.66 Parmenion’s forces were restive because of the broken vertical bonds with their commander. (Curt. 7.1.4, 2.35; Diod. Sic. 17.80.4; Just. Epit. 12.5.4). Some of Philotas’ men may have been frustrated too (Diod. Sic. 17.80.4). Given their long service together it is not surprising that the vertical cohesion, a field condition of service, was strong for some of the men in these units. As a result, Alexander moved the most insubordinate soldiers, into a special unit called the ἀτάκτων τάγμα (“indisciplined unit,” Diod. Sic. 17.80.4). The goal seems to have been to isolate these soldiers and they were made to camp apart from the rest of the army (Diod. Sic. 17.80.4; Curt. 7.2.35, 37; Just. Epit. 12.5.5). In addition to the broken bonds, the campaign had been strenuous, and it would not be surprising if some soldiers were ready to stop fighting. The identity of members of the ataktōn tagma seems to have included Greek mercenaries, allies, and Macedonians.67 But there is no indication that this problem involved many soldiers, even among units formerly under Parmenion’s command.68 Formation of such a unit was within the king’s prerogative and would not be surprising given the need to focus attention on securing the region during an active insurgency nearby. There are several unclear or unknowable aspects of this disciplinary measure. It is difficult to tell from our sources whether Alexander later moved other insubordinate soldiers into this ataktōn tagma. The descriptions in Diodorus, Curtius, and Justin of letters having been written and opened leave that possibility open (Diod. Sic. 17.80.4; Curt. 7.2.36–37; Just. Epit. 12.5.6–8).69 Another 66 Concern over incitement of the soldiers may have contributed to Alexander’s decision to eliminate his old commander. On this incident, see Badian (1960/2012), (2000/2012) 427–30; Heckel (2009) 74–77, (2016) 55–59. In an earlier publication (2015, 71) I referred to an alleged military conspiracy against Philotas; however, I now concur with Carney (1996/2015) that it is difficult to separate the political from the military aspects of this incident and with Heckel (2020, 205) that Philotas bears some responsibility for his fate. 67 Milns (1976) 109–10 on Parmenion’s units at Ecbatana having not included any Macedonians at the time of his assassination. But Curtius (7.3.4) reports that in the winter of 330 the forces that had been under Parmenion included Macedonians who reached Alexander. Philotas’ units certainly were Macedonian. 68 Curtius (7.2.37) refers to the Indisciplined Unit as paucis (“few in number”). 69 The letter opening seems a remarkable ruse with an excessively high opportunity cost. Roman units kept records of insubordinate soldiers (App. B Civ. 3.43.178), but there is no

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

363

issue is the unit’s fate. Curtius reports the unit was small and eager to recover honor, but Justin reports Alexander wanted to destroy the unit and ended up depositing the men in different settlements in central Asia (Curt. 7.2.36–37; Just. Epit. 12.5.6–8).70 No other source sheds any light on them and they do not appear later in the narratives of the campaign. Any connection between the restive soldiers in 330 and Alexander’s adoption of Persian dress and court customs is difficult to establish. Our sources place the tensions among Macedonian soldiers and officers over Alexander’s efforts to adopt Persian practices as having manifested just prior to the trial of Philotas (Diod. Sic. 17.77.4–7; Curt. 6.2.1–4, 6.9–10; Plut. Alex. 45.1–2; Just. Epit. 12.3.8–4.1, 5.1). Alexander’s political efforts to appeal to Iranian cultural expectations (Iranization) may have stimulated some frustration and grumbling among some soldiers, but they do not seem to have had any serious impact on the soldiers since they were not at court.71 It is in this context that Diodorus, Curtius, and Justin report that Alexander used gifts or rewards of various kinds to mollify the Macedonians who resisted his pro-Iranian policies. Diodorus (17.78.1) and Curtius (6.6.11) merely mention gifts or bribes. Justin uses this point in his narrative to present a variety of measures including formally recognizing soldiers’ relationships with women with whom they had formed extended relationships,72 legal allowance of rations for the male children of such unions, greater pay for soldiers who had more sons, and allowing orphans to receive their father’s pay if he died in battle (Just. Epit. 12.4.2–9).73 These reforms, regardless of when they were initiated, altered for the better the institutional terms of service for the soldiers. It is not clear evidence that the Macedonian army did the same. One would have expected lower-level and subaltern officers to have a sense of their soldiers’ mood. Heckel (1997, 231), without taking a position, reports what prior historians concluded about the veracity of the letter-opening. Adams (2003) accepts the letter-writing as genuine. If true, the story also suggests soldiers’ literacy and that Alexander maintained opportunities for soldiers’ letters to be carried back to Macedonia with those of officers. 70 Roisman (2015, 84 and n. 24) suggests Curtius’ account is plausible. 71 There was resistance to Iranization among some Macedonian officers, but since Alexander’s relationship with officers was at least as political as military it is beyond the scope of this chapter. Sources connect Alexander’s adoption of Iranian practices with Dimnos’ conspiracy (330), the conspiracy of Hermolaus (327), and the accounts of the death of Cleitus in 328. See Badian (1985, 2000/2012); Olbrycht (2010) 353–68, (2017); Liotsakis (2021) 257–58. On Cleitus specifically, see Liotsakis (2021) 256, 265–67. 72 Heckel (1997, 206–207) suggests Justin draws a contrast with Augustus’ reform of the Roman military which banned soldiers from legal marriage. 73 These reforms were probably genuine even if Alexander promulgated them later and piecemeal, see Diod. Sic. 17.94.4; Arr. Anab. 7.12.2; Plut. Alex. 71.5. These may also be related to the issue of the Epiginoi and the later decision to keep back children of veterans.

364

Brice

if these reforms applied only to Macedonian soldiers, but that seems the most likely reading of the passage. 5.3 A Long Central Asian Campaign 329–327 The nature of the conflict in Bactria and Sogdiana was a different kind of war from what the soldiers had encountered previously. Instead of extensive marching and pitched battles in which combat lasted a day and pursuit a bit longer, they were dealing with a year-round insurgency (or insurgencies) and raiding. The details and extent of the conflict in central Asia have been dealt with by others, but there are some issues of the campaign that need to be highlighted.74 Combat, whether by the soldiers or riders, was the same in central Asia as elsewhere when they could engage, which was the difficulty. The enemy effectively used guerrilla-style tactics. Responding to these tactics required constant vigilance and consistent activity. Despite Alexander’s efforts, the conflict continued in these regions until summer 327. A sense of how difficult the combat was can be seen in the numerous serious injuries Alexander suffered during this period, including a serious concussion at Cyropolis and other wounds (Curt. 7.6.3, 6.22; Arr. Anab. 3.30.11, 4.3.3; Plut. Alex. 45.5). This extended campaigning contributed greatly to combat exhaustion within the entire army. Regardless of the victories and eventual pacification, previous study of ancient militaries has shown that continuous fighting and combat duty, regardless of victory, increases the likelihood of outbreaks of military unrest.75 This strain was not the only factor contributing to the potential for outbreaks of indiscipline. Climate and topography provided another change in the conditions of service encountered by the soldiers, adding to the stress caused by the insurgency. Alexander and his men had to press through deep snow to reach and subdue several regions before getting to Bactra and would encounter more cold-weather conditions and related transit difficulties crossing the Hindu-Kush range and during the campaign in Bactria and Sogdiana. In addition to the cold there were deserts they would cross during the campaign. These snowy and arid regions were poor in rations and there was the risk of exposure, which took many lives (e.g., Curt. 7.3.7–14, 8.4.3–14; Plut. Alex. 58.1; Arr. Anab. 3.28.1, 8, 4.4.8–9, 21.10). In addition to the exposure and lack of sustenance, such conditions took a psychological toll on the soldiers made clear by Curtius’ description of the effects of a winter storm (Curt. 8.4.3–5). Macedonians were undoubtedly accustomed to mountains and winter conditions back home, but during 330–327 snow 74 Holt (1989); Howe (2016); Heckel (2020) 171–200; see both chapters by Anson in this volume. 75 Brice (2020a) 264.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

365

and deserts added additional strain and stress to the soldiers’ experiences in central Asia.76 We might expect the relative lack of material spoils in this region to have contributed to frustration among some soldiers. One of the service conditions that has been noted as a potential cause of military unrest is a lack of opportunities to acquire booty. Bactria and Sogdiana were not nearly as rich as those areas through which the army had previously passed.77 Also, Alexander had taken measures to ensure there was no unauthorized plundering (Arr. Anab. 3.25.2). The spoils the soldiers had acquired in Persia had been stored in Bactra with other non-essential materiel in order to ease the logistical burden in the desert areas they were entering (Curt. 7.5.1). Then in 327 when the army was ready to depart for India Alexander had the men burn all the wagons containing their plunder (Curt. 6.6.14, placing it in Hyrcania; Plut. Alex. 57.1–2, Aem. 12.6; Polyaenus, Strat. 4.3.10). This action may have been chosen for logistical reasons or to incentivize their zeal for India or both.78 While we might expect this decision to have caused some open complaints, Plutarch adds (Alex. 57.3) that it only irritated a few and those men inclined to have been insubordinate went along out of fear of Alexander. The king had demonstrated he would accept no internal challenges to his authority. Although the lack of spoils from Central Asia was a radical change in the field conditions of service, it did not cause any outbreaks of collective indiscipline. It is a vivid testament to the relationships of Alexander and his officers with the army that serious collective unrest did not erupt during this period of his war. There was certainly plenty of potential for indiscipline, but the presence of suitable conditions does not automatically result in an outbreak of military unrest—it takes a trigger. There may be evidence that some men were holding back in their efforts by the late stages of the campaign, having become tired of endless fighting or simply trying to survive in a long and strenuous war. Alexander’s injuries in Central Asia may not just have been due to his zeal for action, but also reflect a need to act vigorously in combat to inspire his men

76 Holt (1989) 72–73, (2012). 77 Holt (2016) 121–22. 78 Although Curtius reports that the wagons of spoils were burned in Hyrcania, Holt (2015) has argued convincingly that they were burned before the army traversed the Hindu-Kush mountains into India. On turning spoils of all kinds into cash by selling them to merchants, see O’Connor (2015); Trundle (2020). That there was so much personal plunder that had not been sold for coins confirms that there were no merchants with the army at this point who were turning the plunder into cash. On the logistics, see Brice (2023); Lacey in this volume.

366

Brice

to cease malingering and put more effort into fighting.79 There were, as before, undoubtedly individual incidents (e.g., Menander killed for leaving his post, Plut. Alex. 57.3; Alexander chastising slow activity Arr. Anab. 4.29.7), but most of these were too minor to have attracted our authors’ attention. 5.4 Silence at the Hyphasis, 326 The campaign of 327–325 was similar in some important ways to the fighting in Central Asia in that the fighting seems to have been nearly continuous. Along the march from Bactra, there was initially a continuation of the previous insurgency. The region had to be pacified, including by means of some difficult poliorketics (Diod. Sic. 17.85–86.1; Curt. 8.11; Arr. Anab. 4.28–30.5). There was a difficult pitched battle against Porus that included feints, a river crossing at night in a storm, and numerous elephants.80 Numerous cities were assaulted and captured. The soldiers had to remain keyed up for combat and vigilant against threats from enemies and the environment. They may have been inured to the constant fighting, but that does not make it less stressful. Continuation of this strenuous fighting, with limited breaks, meant the soldiers were increasingly prone to physical and mental exhaustion (Diod. Sic. 17.94.1; Arr. Anab. 5.2.1; Curt. 9.2.10–11). The climate and the topography were again constant obstacles. The soldiers were accustomed to mountains, marching, combat, and the sieges, but the climate and environment in the Punjab was different from their previous experience. The monsoon rains and high humidity coupled with the heat were the opposite of Sogdiana, but they sapped strength, and ruined gear. More than a month of continuous rain, wind, and storms contributed to mental stress (Diod. Sic. 17.94.2–3; Strabo 15.1.17–18; Arr. Anab. 6.25.4). The jungle was dense in places, hindering swift movement by cavalry and restricting reconnaissance. Poisonous snakes caused surprise and deaths until the men learned countermeasures (Curt. 9.1.12). The extra work involved in bridging the numerous rivers, building boats, and rowing or sailing added to the soldiers’ labor.81 Soldiers had experienced environment-driven strains in prior campaigning. But when we remember that the conditions in India followed an extremely strenuous period of extended fighting in Central Asia, exhaustion is understandable. The army make-up had changed since 330, as it now included numerous non-Macedonians. This recruitment was a continuation of a process begun even before the army entered Central Asia. Alexander added soldiers from the 79 Badian (1961/2012) 63. 80 See Sears in this volume. 81 Bosworth (1996) 11–2, 176–78.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

367

subject lands through which he passed to make-up for losses.82 Once the army reached India, wagons and carts probably supplemented pack animals and boats, adding to the number of support personnel needing food and maintenance. There was also a train of camp-followers accompanying the army (Diod. Sic. 17.94.4; Curt. 8.4.13; Just. Epit. 12.3–4), though its number is not subject to a reasonable estimate. These extra mouths to feed were undoubtedly a strain on logistics, but may have contributed to positive morale in camp as they increased the sense of community.83 Despite the differences in types of challenges, the continuation of strenuous conditions of service present since 330 contributed to mental and physical exhaustion among the soldiers and riders regardless of whether they were Macedonians, allies, subjects, or mercenaries. The Hyphasis (Beas) river, which they reached in summer 326, turned out to be the point at which the tensions within the army finally reached a breaking point. At the prospect of crossing and continuing the campaign into the Indian subcontinent the soldiers showed their displeasure. The extended stress of the long campaign finally reached a trigger point that resulted in collective military unrest. There is agreement in broad strokes among our sources about what occurred, its causes, and the resolution. Arrian is often considered the best source for this incident but there are many points of agreement among the sources.84 The account begins with a report that the peoples across the river were extremely warlike and describes how this news fired Alexander’s desire to continue (Arr. Anab. 5.25.1–2; Diod. Sic. 17.93.2–4; Curt. 9.2.1–9; Alex. 62.2–4; Just. Epit. 12.8.9–10).85 Arrian next reports that once the soldiers reached the river and were aware of Alexander’s 82 Engels (1978) appendices 5–6; Carney (1996/2015) 36 and n. 67; Asirvatham in this volume. 83 That numerous soldiers had children and established relationships with women they later acknowledged as wives suggests that the presence of camp followers expanded the positive sense of community within the army (J. Lee 2020). Engels (1978, 12–16, 23–24), asserts there is no way to estimate the number of camp-followers, but he plays down their importance in the campaign, especially after 330. Curtius’ report (8.5.4) of 120,000 men following Alexander into India is an exaggeration, even if it included the servants, drovers, and other camp followers; contra Heckel (2020) 268 n. 13. 84 Arrian’s account of the Hyphasis incident may be the most accurate, since Ptolemy was familiar with unrest in the Macedonian military and was present at the Hyphasis, but also at Opis in 324 (Curt. 10.2.12; Diod. Sic. 17.109.1; Plut. Alex. 71.1; Arr. Anab. 7.8.1–3; Just. Epit. 12.11.4) as well as at the military unrest in 323 after Alexander’s death (Curt. 10.7; Just. Epit. 13.2.4–3.5; Diod. Sic. 18.2.2–3; Arr. Succ. 1a.1–2); Brice (2019). Holt’s (1982) detailed analysis of the sources remains extremely useful; see also, e.g., Bosworth (1995, 1996); Anson (2015). For different appraisals of Arrian’s narrative in this instance, see, e.g., Heckel (2003) especially 170; Howe and Müller (2012) 36–39; Liotsakis (2021) 256, 259–60. 85 The Metz Epitome (69) also reports the opposition.

368

Brice

intention to continue campaigning their mood changed: ξύλλογοί τε ἐγίγνοντο κατὰ τὸ στρατόπεδον τῶν μὲν τὰ σφέτερα ὀδυρομένων, ὅσοι ἐπιεικέστατοι τῶν δὲ οὐκ ἀκολουθήσειν οὐδ᾽ ἢν ἄγῃ Ἀλέξανδρος ἀπισχυριζομένων (“meetings occurred in camp among soldiers, some of whom, the moderate ones, complained of their own fate, while others absolutely refused to follow even with Alexander leading,” Anab. 5.25.2). At this point in their narratives, Curtius,86 Diodorus,87 Plutarch,88 and Justin89 each report the soldiers’ exhaustion.90 Arrian relates that Alexander then met in council with his officers and made a speech,91 but without resolution, adding that Alexander’s speech to the officers was initially received “with a long pause during which no one spoke” (πολὺν μὲν χρόνον σιωπὴ, 5.27.1).92 Unhappy at the officers’ and soldiers’ responses, he then isolated himself in his tent, which led to more silence in camp (Arr. Anab. 5.28.4; Curt. 9.3.18; Plut. Alex. 62.5–9).93 Finally, when the soldiers’ silence and resistance had not changed during his isolation Alexander announced that,

86 Expectabant ut duces principesque ad regem perferrent vulneribus et continuo labore militiae fatigatos non detrectare munia sed sustinere non posse (“They awaited their commanders and officers to report to the king they were exhausted from wounds and the endless hardship of the war; that they were not rejecting their duties, but were unable to carry them out,” 9.3.1). 87 Diodorus states that the soldiers were “worn down from continuous warfare,” (17.94.1, see also, 94.2–3) and implies it was the cause of the soldiers’ restiveness. 88 Plutarch reports the state of the Macedonians: τοὺς μέντοι Μακεδόνας ὁ πρὸς Πῶρον ἀγὼν ἀμβλυτέρους ἐποίησε (“the contest with Porus had blunted the Macedonian’s energy for more campaigning,” Alex. 62.1). 89 Justin does not mention assemblies or silence, but reports the soldiers were exhausted (laboribus fessus) from their war and appealed emotionally to Alexander for an end to the war (12.8.10–13). 90 Strabo (15.1.27) also reports that the soldiers were exhausted. 91 I reject the content of speeches in our ancient sources as evidence since they tend to be the creation of the authors. This view does not mean there were not speeches. On the two sides in the historiographical debate about the speeches at the Hyphasis and Opis, see for rejection of the speeches: Badian (1985) 467 n. 1; Bosworth (1995) 344–45; Carney (1996/2015) 39 and n. 86; Howe and Müller (2012) 24–25. Contra Holt (1982, 43) and Hammond (1999, 248) insisted the content of the speeches at the Hyphasis came from Ptolemy, even if Arrian adjusted the language. Heckel (2003, 2020, 249–55) relies at times on the content of the speeches; used more selectively by Roisman (2012, 31) and Anson (2015, 71). On speeches see Marincola (2007). 92 Curtius and Diodorus place the speeches in assemblies. The venue does not matter to understanding the eruption and resolution of the incident. 93 Diodorus goes on to report that Alexander offered various incentives to persuade the soldiers to change their position including plundering the countryside and benefits for wives and children (17.94.4). These incentives are not reported by any other author at this point, though such benefits are reported elsewhere: Arr. Anab. 7.12.2; Plut. Alex. 71; Just. Epit. 12.4.2–9.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

369

due to unpropitious sacrifices the campaign would turn back and arranged to do so. Arrian, Curtius, and Diodorus make clear the officers supported this news (Arr. Anab. 5.28.1; Curt. 9.3.18; Diod. Sic. 17.94.5–95.3; Just. Epit. 12.8.16–17).94 There is little disagreement among the sources about the general course of events at the Hyphasis River. Modern scholars have long recognized that when the soldiers balked at Alexander’s wish to continue campaigning, they did not disobey a command, since there was no such order.95 Rather, the soldiers grumbled among themselves or were silent with displeasure or, more likely, both at different times. The presence of silence appears in all the sources and would have been an effective way for a group to indicate its displeasure.96 Grumbling and vocalizations among soldiers and appeals to their lower-rank officers are typical precursors of early stages of collective military unrest.97 In this case, resistance through collective silence was part of the soldiers’ response, the other having been protests to officers. Heckel is incorrect in calling the incident a secessio, as the soldiers did not actually strike (i.e., refuse a command) or seek to separate themselves from their commander.98 Adams is incorrect in calling this a petition of the army to the king, while Hammond is also wrong in stating, “there were no acts of indiscipline.”99 This protest is collective indiscipline but, since the soldiers were not refusing to follow a command (i.e., no opposition to established authority) and there was no violence (or threat of it), this episode is a good example of an “expression of grievances.” An “expression of grievances” is a non-violent, collective protest intended to protect the interests of the participants. In these cases, the soldiers are not opposed to established authority since they acknowledge its power to grant their requests.100 94 Strabo (15.1.27) states that Alexander was forced (ἀναγκασθείς) by the army to turn back. 95 Carney (1995/2015) 38–40; Brice (2015) 71–72. 96 On the silence as genuine, Roisman (2012) 36 n. 14, 39; see also Bosworth (1995) 351; Hammond (1980) 218. 97 On collective vocalizations such as whispering, grumbling, shouting, etc. as a common early stage in collective unrest among various cultures and periods see Brice (2020e) 47–48. 98 Heckel (2003) 166, (2020) 249, 253 n. 60. Howe and Müller (2012, 24) incorrectly assert that there is debate about whether this is a mutiny or not. There has not been any real debate for many years: Holt (1982) 49; Faure (1982) 155; Bosworth (1988a) Spann (1999) 67 and n. 38; Carney (1996/2015) 40, 59; Roisman (2012) 36 and n. 15; Brice (2015) 72–73, (2019) 35; contra Badian (1968/2012) 191 n. 52, (1985) 467–68, (2000/2012); Worthington (2014) 287; Olbrycht (2015) 208. 99 Adams (1986) 49–50; contra Carney (1996/2015) 40–41 and n. 93, with whom I agree. Hammond (1980) 219, relies over-much on modern military regulations. 100 On defining an “expression of grievance,” see Brice (2015) 72–73, (2020b) 114–17, esp. 117. The name of the incident—Hyphasis “Mutiny”—has acquired an historiographical inertia that now seems difficult to derail. The incorrect label has more to do with a lack of

370

Brice

They sought to protect their lives by bringing an end to the fighting. Treating this incident as an “expression of grievances” instead of mutiny helps keep its scale in perspective without minimizing its importance as an example of military unrest. That the actual protest was limited to, or led by, the Macedonian component of the army is another point on which the sources agree. All four major sources refer to the Macedonians alone at the beginning of their narratives (Diod. Sic. 17.93.4, 94.2, 94.5; Curt. 9.2.10; Plut. Alex. 71.1; Arr. Anab. 5.25.2). Given that they are narrating Alexander’s campaign, in which the Macedonians figure prominently and were personally closest to the king this focus is not surprising. But it also makes sense because they had been serving longest, through the most combat and strenuous campaigning compared to the other units of the army. We cannot ignore the other units of the army. Hammond suggested the “Asian” and Indian soldiers would have followed Alexander across the Hyphasis,101 but that does not mean they would have opposed the grievances. Arrian is clear that in the council, which would have included the officers of non-Macedonian units, the attendees echoed the soldiers’ silence. The repeated references to silence in camp, especially after the meetings or assemblies, show that the atmosphere was one of protest. They had not collectively threatened violence or even desertion, both of which they could have deployed as threats. But in the end Alexander did not test their resolve. Alexander’s response and the resolution of the soldiers’ “expression of grievances” is a further point that is presented consistently in the sources. As he had done previously, Alexander responded to the soldiers with speeches, either to the officers (in Arrian) or to the soldiers (in Curtius and Diodorus).102 When these failed, he isolated himself in his tent, perhaps in expectation that the army would soften its position.103 But their mood did not change. Recognizing and accepting the soldiers’ resolve, Alexander reported that they would not cross the Hyphasis, but would head back to the Hydaspes (Jhelum) river. Officers and soldiers were elated at this announcement, hailed Alexander, and arranged to depart.104 The officers’ exuberance at Alexander’s change of heart shows they shared the same interest as their soldiers in this case, a feature precision in terms for indiscipline than with the Indian Mutinies of 1857, as Howe and Müller (2012, 24 n. 4) suggested. 101 Hammond (1980) 218; Roisman (2012) 39. 102 To whom the speeches were presented does not change analysis of the incident. 103 Roisman (2012) 37. On Alexander’s emulation of Achilles see Carney (2000); King and D’Agostino in this volume. 104 Heckel (2003) 151–60, (2020) 253. Howe and Müller (2012, 34 n. 59) are incorrect in also equating stone lions at Chaeronea and Amphipolis with boundaries, since these were

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

371

common in “expressions of grievances.” No one was punished for the military unrest; instead, there were athletic and equestrian contests to honor the gods and provide the men a positive outlet for competition (Arr. Anab. 5.29.2). Alexander restored order by marching to the Hydaspes where he joined up with his supplies, new recruits, and his fleet before directing the army southward. Alexander retained control and still had territory to subdue.105 Despite the near unanimity of ancient sources, scholars debate the cause of this incident. Bosworth suggests, “it is fear of the future … not present exhaustion, which provokes Alexander’s troops to express their discontent.”106 Spann and Heckel argue separately that Alexander stimulated the soldiers into indiscipline on purpose to avoid a crossing he did not wish to make and put the blame for turning back onto the soldiers.107 Howe and Müller argue that there was no indiscipline at the Hyphasis because there was no punishment and our Roman era sources invented the entire episode.108 None of these suggestions get at the actual causes. The problem with each of these explanations is that they deploy unnecessary complexity and disregard the conditions of service. Spann and Heckel presume the soldiers’ mass-acquiescence in a supposedly predetermined secret plan to cause indiscipline, but collective military unrest is unpredictable and full of dangerous potential.109 Howe and Müller incorrectly assume punishment is a defining aspect of military unrest,110 and reports of collective action in Macedonian armies should be described in terms distinct from Roman examples even though Roman authors were influenced by the primary sources on Alexander.111 Their assumptions are unwarranted. neither erected during Alexander’s lifetime nor by Macedonian rulers: Ma (2008); Papazakardas (2016). 105 Heckel (2020, 259 n. 81, 261 nn. 89–90) is correct in dismissing as without merit Badian’s suggestion (1985, 268) that the difficult campaign down the Indus was punishment for the hiatus at the Hyphasis. 106 Bosworth (1995) 343. 107 Spann (1999); Heckel (2003), (2020) 249–55; accepted by Pownall (2023) 147–48. 108 Howe and Müller (2012, 24 and 37–38), argue that Curtius’ and Arrian’s accounts of the indiscipline must be based exclusively on Roman understanding of military unrest and not Macedonian and since no punishment occurred afterwards, then what happened at the Hyphasis did not constitute military unrest. Relied upon by Pownall (2023) 147–48. 109 Anson (2015, 73), Carney (1996/2015, 57), and Brice (2019, 35–37) review and reject both theses. Brice (2019) was originally submitted in 2013, without benefit of Anson’s work and Carney’s afterward. 110 Studies have shown that much ancient indiscipline goes unpunished, see Brice (2020d) 252–53, 262 and n. 22; Taylor (2022). 111 Given the popularity of Alexander in Roman historiography, authors describing military indiscipline (e.g., Tac. Ann. 1.16–49) were probably influenced by how earlier Alexander

372

Brice

Soldiers’ physical and mental exhaustion is sufficient explanation for the indiscipline at the Hyphasis. Soldiers are not automatons. Organized, disciplined militaries are still human institutions. There are going to be incidents of indiscipline, some of which might be collective and dangerous to leaders, especially when soldiers are under stress. Military unrest is a normal potential problem commanders may encounter.112 Contrary to the argument of Badian and Carney, the unrest was not a “power struggle” between the army and the king.113 Alexander responded to the soldiers’ protest at the Hyphasis in several ways (speech, seclusion, granting their request). He did not give away command or initiative, nor was that the goal of the soldiers. They needed each other (Arr. Anab. 6.12.1–3). At no point do any of the sources indicate that the loyalty of the army was in question during the protest (Curt. 9.3.16; Arr. Anab. 5.29.1; Just. Epit. 12.8.17).114 There is no report that anyone deserted during the indiscipline or threatened the king’s life or leadership. At the end of the incident the army was still exhausted and faced the same conditions of service that had contributed to this unrest, so there were likely to be further outbreaks of indiscipline. Alexander and his officers would have to respond to each incident, as they had before. 5.5 Hyphasis to Pasargadae, 326–325 During the remainder of 326 and 325, the campaigning continued to be difficult due both to nature and resistance. Geography and climate continued to provide challenges. There were the difficulties of traversing the jungles and terrain along the Indus, and there were the rivers. The land forces had to cross numerous tributaries and a fleet had to be staffed and maintained on the river, which presented its own transport problems (Arr. Anab. 6.4.4).115 Heat, disease, and rains contributed to the soldiers’ and camp followers’ fatigue. The fighting was frequent and often difficult along the Indus. Resistance was concerted and sources described military unrest; see Moore (2018) part 1. The Alexander sources’ descriptions of mutiny also echo descriptions of modern mutinies in a range of societies: see Brice (2020e) 47–48 and 62 n. 59. Anson’s evaluation (2015, 66 n. 6) of Howe and Müller (2016) is typical “This interpretation, in my view, does too much violence to the source tradition on which we entirely depend.” See also Carney (1996/2015) 56–57; King in this volume; contra Heckel (2020) 250 n. 51. 112 Discussed in the introduction to this chapter; see most recently Brice (2020b) 113–14, (2020e) 44–46. 113 Badian (1961/2012) 62, (2000/2012) 432–33; Carney (1996/2015) 39–40. Contra Roisman (2012, 38) who observes, “only the king shared this view.” 114 Worthington’s assertion (2014, 287) that the soldiers abandoned their loyalty is unfounded. Soldiers may be frustrated and protest without breaking their loyalty to the king. 115 Bosworth (1996) 72–74.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

373

vigorous. The attack on the Malli was not the only strenuous combat, though it certainly receives the most attention due to Alexander’s wound. Numerous settlements were taken by assault.116 The passage of the Gedrosian desert turned dangerous in a different way. Alexander had sent parts of the army by different routes to meet up in Carmania. The army had encountered deserts before, but the reports of suffering in Gedrosia are greater in scale (Diod. Sic. 17.105.6; Curt. 9.10.11–16; Plut. Alex. 66.5: Arr. Anab. 6.24.4–26).117 A flash flood resulted in some soldiers losing their plundered wealth. Numerous people died due to heat and a flash flood (Curt. 9.10.12; Arr. Anab. 6.25.1–3).118 There was some fighting in Gedrosia, but it seems to have been desultory and much less stressful than the desert conditions. There remained numerous camp followers with the army who must also have suffered during 326–325, not just in Gedrosia (e.g., Arr. Anab. 6.25.5). The twin losses of informal family members and wealth would have been a blow to the army that exacerbated the soldiers’ exhaustion. The arrival in Pasargadae in 325 signaled a transition in the soldiers’ conditions of service—peace and the needs of administration instead of conquest. During the campaigning in 330–325 Alexander countered the difficult service with breaks in the stressful conditions. Some of these were extended rests after strenuous marching and fighting (e.g., Arr. Anab. 3.20.3, 3.23.5, 3.25.1, 4.18.2, 5.22.4, 6.8.1, 6.27.1, 6.28.1–2; Curt. 9.6.; Plut. Alex. 67.3), but others were opportunities for men to relax socially at celebrations and banquets (e.g., Arr. Anab. 4.8.1, 4.10.5, 4.13.5–6, 5.2.6).119 There were also opportunities to work out some internal tension through athletic and equestrian competitions (Arr. Anab. 3.25.1, 4.4.1, 5.3.6, 5.8.3, 5.20.1, 5.29.1, 6.28.3; Plut. Alex. 67.3; cf. Diod. Sic. 17.100–101; Curt. 9.7.16–26). These occasions contributed to morale as well as the necessity for rest and recovery. Perhaps not surprisingly, there were during this period some outbreaks of military indiscipline in the army, but these were mostly limited to insubordination. Arrian reports that during the fighting along the Indus a few individual 116 On the Indian campaigns, see Bosworth (1996); Heckel (2020) 255–64; Müller and Anson (chapter 22) in this volume. 117 Views on the scale of the casualties vary: Hammond (1980) 234–35; Hamilton (1999) 184; Badian (2000/2012) 433; Heckel (2020) 268 and n. 13 with citations of earlier views. 118 Holt (2016) 122–24. 119 Ancient authors mention only officers as banqueting, but this pattern reflects our sources’ interest in elite activity: see O’Brien (1996). Some instances of revels, such as celebrations, seem to have applied to soldiers too (e.g., Diod. Sic. 17.70–72; Plut. Alex. 38; Arr. Anab. 6.28.1–2) and we should expect more such occasions.

374

Brice

soldiers were thought to be malingering (βλακεύειν) when the fighting was most severe, particularly during the campaign against the Malli (Arr. Anab. 6.7.6, 9.3). Curtius reports the mood as frustration which Alexander resolved with a speech (Curt. 9.4.16–22). It does not seem as cohesive or as serious as what had occurred at the Hyphasis river and was not unusual. Such behavior as holding back amid battle or frustrated grumbling would hardly be surprising given the pitch of combat and the soldiers’ exhaustion. As Carney notes, this reticence on the part of the soldiers may have been the reason for Alexander’s extraordinary efforts in this campaign (e.g., Arr. Anab. 6.7.5, 9.3–4),120 much like his actions in Sogdiana (Arr. Anab. 4.3.3; Curt. 7.6.22). Later, during the Gedrosian desert march, some soldiers were insubordinate. They killed and ate pack animals and broke into stores meant for Nearchos’ fleet. They were starving and frustrated (Arr. Anab. 6.23.4–5, 25.1–2; Diod. Sic. 17.105.6; Plut. Alex. 66; Strabo 15.2.5; Curt. 9.10.12), but there is no indication they killed the animals out of anything other than need and impatience. That there would be frustration was to be expected in such circumstances, but it did not coalesce into anything more serious than insubordination.121 Two serious episodes of military unrest occurred far from Alexander during this period, one in the upper Indus (Curt. 10.1.20; Arr. Anab. 6.27.2) where bodyguards killed a satrap and the other in Bactria where settled mercenaries revolted (Diod. Sic. 17.99.5–6; Curt. 9.7.1). Since neither incident occurs with Alexander, they are beyond the scope of the investigation here.122 6

Conditions of Service 325–323

6.1 Pasargadae to Opis The soldiers’ conditions of service during the period from Pasargadae to 323 could hardly have been more different from the rest of the campaign. Having made it through Gedrosia and reunited with the rest of his army at Pasargadae in early 324, Alexander rested the men and then traveled west peacefully to Susa (Arr. Anab. 6.28.3; Plut. Alex. 67.3). This was a period of relative peace 120 Carney (1996/2015) 41; Worthington (2014) 255. 121 Badian (1985, 468) and Carney (1996/2015, 40–41) saw the indiscipline on the Indus and in Gedrosia as evidence that the Hyphasis incident damaged the army’s discipline and Alexander’s control. These two incidents, however, were in response to circumstances soldiers faced in that moment and insignificant in the greater scheme of the war. That Alexander chose to ignore and not punish anyone in these cases suggests he did not see these as serious. 122 On the Bactrian incident, see Holt (1989) 80–84; Billows (1995) 158–60; Iliakis (2013).

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

375

and plenty for the army. Food, drink, payment, and opportunities to relax fully without the need to be on constant alert were not in short supply during these months. There was no general combat during this period. Peace does not in this case mean there was inactivity. Alexander executed numerous satraps and their associates due to corruption or incompetence (Diod. Sic. 17.108.6; Curt. 10.1.2–9, 38–39, Plut. Alex. 68.2; Arr. Anab. 6.27.5, 7.4.1–3). Curtius reports that some soldiers were also executed for their role in the corruption (Curt. 10.1.8), but this seems to have had little impact on the army.123 An indeterminate number of Macedonian soldiers died of disease or other causes, but battlefield deaths are missing entirely from our sources for this period. No source conveys the extent to which, if any, these deaths and executions caused tension among the soldiers. The conditions of service during early 324 were so different from what soldiers had experienced previously that it stimulated uncertainty and anticipation among some soldiers as to their future career. Without the need for the full army, Alexander could discharge men. While some of them probably welcomed discharge, there were others who had become accustomed to the spoils of war or the adrenalin of combat, or both. Most of the younger men knew no other way to make a living. The uncertainty, which was collective even as it must have varied by degree among individual Macedonians, was simply a different kind of military stress from that of combat.124 When he reached Susa, Alexander undertook various measures intended to prepare for the future stability of his empire, but one act triggered tension within the army.125 Alexander introduced the Epigonoi (“successors”), thirty thousand Asian youths assembled previously, trained in Macedonian tactics, and armed as Macedonians (Diod. Sic. 17.108.1–2; Plut. Alex. 71.1; Arr. Anab. 7.6.1, 8.2; Just. Epit. 12.4.4–11). Their purpose was, according to Diodorus, δυνάμενον δὲ ἀντίταγμα γενέσθαι τῇ Μακεδονικῇ φάλαγγι (“so they could be a counter to the Macedonian phalangites,” 17.108.3).126 Arrian (Anab. 7.8.3) indicates that the 123 On Alexander’s so-called “reign of terror,” see Badian (1961/2012), (1985) 475–78. 124 The most relevant example of this pattern occurs in the army of Octavian in 31 following the Battle of Actium, when the demobilized veterans, some of whom were probably frustrated about being unable to take advantage of the spoils of Egypt, mutinied (Cass. Dio 51.3.1–5.1, especially, τὸ δὲ δὴ πλεῖστον τῇ τοῦ Αἰγυπτίου πλούτου ἐλπίδι, οὐδὲν ἐνεόχμωσαν, “mostly because they expected the riches of Egypt,” 51.3.4); Brice (2020e, 51). 125 The measures included registration of soldiers’ marriages and children (Arr. Anab. 7.4.8; cf. Diod. Sic. 17.94.9; Just. Epit. 12.4.2) and payment of soldiers’ debts (Diod. Sic. 17.109.2; Plut. Alex. 70.3–4; Arr. Anab. 7.5.1–3; Just. Epit. 12.11.1). On the measures see Roisman (2012) 40–44. 126 Diodorus connects the new unit with insubordination at the Hyphasis.

376

Brice

Epigonoi unit was the result of Macedonian soldiers’ resistance to Alexander’s policy of Iranization. Curtius (8.5.1), Plutarch (Alex. 47.3), and Justin (12.4.8–11) place the creation of the Epigonoi before the crossing into India in 327. Given the sources, it is more appropriate to see the Epigonoi introduced at Susa, as Bosworth, Olbrycht, and others have argued, as part of Alexander’s Iranization policy.127 Regardless, the sources that discuss the Epigonoi at Susa all agree that their appearance caused frustration among the Macedonian soldiers, but no immediate reaction. 6.2 Opis The tensions reportedly aroused at Susa erupted in the summer of 324 during an assembly in Opis. Our sources report the grievances and the incident in such a variety of ways that some scholars have found the reports confused and inconsistent, but they can be sorted out.128 After settling affairs in Susa, Alexander sailed up the Tigris river to Opis where he met up with Hephaestion and the army. There he called an assembly that included just the Macedonians (who were camped apart from the Asian units, Curt. 10.3.6).129 Alexander announced that he would discharge and send home 10,000 superannuated and wounded Macedonian veterans. (Arr. Anab. 7.8.1; Curt. 10.2.8; Diod. Sic. 17.109.1–2; Plut. Alex. 71.2–3; Just. Epit. 12.11.4–5). Curtius also reports (10.2.8) a plan to retain as many as 13,000 Macedonian infantry and 2,000 cavalry in Asia as the core of his new army.130 The announced discharge has the appearance of being a step in a planned military reform that had already included registering marriages, paying off debts, and introducing the Epigonoi. Given the length of prior service and the changing nature of Alexander’s activity it was time for a reform. The result of 127 For discussion and prior scholarship see Bosworth (1980); Olbrycht (2008, 2010, 2015). 128 Carney (1996/2015, 42) wrote, “None of the sources offers a really coherent description of the motivation of the troops at Opis. The sources agree on little more than the fact that the dismissal of the veterans was the precipitant. Some aspects of the Opis quarrel defy rational analysis …” Roisman (2012, 45–49), however, provides a thorough and cogent discussion untangling the sources and making order from the differences and similarities, along with citing key previous work. 129 This is not surprising given the cultural and linguistic differences and a tendency in armies assembled from different cultures for such groups to camp together: e.g., J. Lee (2007) 176–98, (2020) 41–42. 130 On Curtius’ numbers, see Holt (2016) 11–13 and nn. 44 and 49. On debate over the number of Macedonians left in Asia, see, e.g., Milns (1987) 251, n. 46; Hammond (1980). Bosworth (1980, 19) suggested that Curtius’ numbers included Asians, but the statement in this context that these men were quae in Asia retineret suggests Curtius or his source understood these numbers to include only Macedonians.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

377

the announced discharge, a clamor and mutiny, was apparently a surprise for Alexander and probably for his officers. After Alexander announced in the assembly the demobilizations and the plan to retain some Macedonians in his new Asian army, the men who had not been discharged (or singled out for discharge) became abusive and shouted various insults and demands at Alexander, refusing to continue serving and demanding that all the Macedonians be discharged and sent home (Arr. Anab. 7.8.2–3; Curt 10.2.12–13; Diod. Sic. 17.109.2; Plut. Alex. 71.2; Just. Epit. 12.11.6–7).131 Curtius adds the colorful detail of the soldiers displaying their wounds and grey hair.132 The Macedonians may have had the right to petition the king in assembly, but that is not what was happening in this instance.133 Regardless of how it started, it quickly became serious. Just because the soldiers did not run amok, smite anyone, or threaten their commander directly does not mean it was not a mutiny. The indiscipline included many armed combat veterans (Curt. 10.2.30; Arr. Anab. 11.4; Just. Epit. 12.11.8) refusing to obey commands as they demanded a release from service. The refusal to follow commands from Alexander and the officers was a serious breach of Macedonian discipline. There is no indication of incitement by individuals who might benefit from the indiscipline. Not all the Macedonians participated, nor need they have done so for it to have been a mutiny.134 This collective disobedience with the potential for violence, even if not realized, is sufficient to categorize this incident as mutiny for purposes of analysis.135 131 Arrian: οὔκουν σιγῇ ἔχοντες ἐκαρτέρησαν ἀλλὰ πάντας γὰρ ἀπαλλάττειν στρατιᾶς ἐκέλευον αὐτὸν δὲ μετὰ τοῦ πατρὸς στρατεύεσθαι τὸν Ἄμμωνα δὴ τῷ λόγῳ ἐπικερτομοῦντες (“Thus they could not bear to sit silent but commanded him to discharge all of them from the army and fight the war with his ‘father,’ mocking Ammon with the word,” 7.8.3). Curtius: disciplinae militaris immemores seditiosis vocibus castra conplent . . . (“forgetful of military discipline they filled the camp with mutinous clamor,” 10.2.12). Liotsakis (2021) 258–59. 132 Comparison of Curtius (10.2.12) with Tacitus (Ann. 1.34.1–3) reveals their use of similar images. Tacitus may have been influenced by Curtius or Curtius’ source. Carney (1996/2015) 31 and nn. 30, 38, 45 recognizes the influence of Roman military discipline on the authors’ presentations, particularly Curtius; see also Rutz (1983); Atkinson and Yardley (2009) 125. Howe and Müller (2012, 37–38) would have us believe that Curtius and Arrian made up these events, but see the prior section of this chapter (5.4, on the Hyphasis) for discussion. 133 On the question of soldier’s rights in assembly see Adams (1986); Anson (1991, 2020); Hammond (1989) 166–76; Hatzopoulos (2020); King, in this volume. 134 Modern analysis has shown that participation in collective unrest is seldom 100 percent of those present, as some people watch and wait while others make a mental calculation on the likelihood of success or punishment; see Brice (2020b) 121, (2020e) 59 n. 52. 135 Brice (2015), (2019) 38. Most scholars accept it as a mutiny; contra, Bosworth (1988a, 160) finds the entire episode “cannot be dignified with the term mutiny”; Carney (1996/2015,

378

Brice

Unlike at the Hyphasis, Alexander responded quickly and directly to the military unrest. He reportedly made another speech,136 after which he had the hypaspists take thirteen ringleaders for execution (Arr. Anab. 7.9–10; Curt. 10.2.30, 3.3, 4.2; Diod. Sic. 17.109.2; Just. Epit. 12.11.8–9). Afterwards, he secluded himself in his headquarters for several days and began initiating the planned army reforms (Arr. Anab. 7.11.1; Curt. 10.3.5–6; Just. Epit. 12.12.1–4). Resolution of the mutiny followed after several days. Once the mutinous soldiers heard the army reforms were underway, they surrendered their weapons and begged forgiveness. Alexander accepted their apologies, restored to service without penalty those soldiers to be retained in Asia, and confirmed their status (Arr. Anab. 7.11.4–7; Curt. 10.4.3; Plut. Alex. 71.4–5; Diod. Sic. 17.109.3; Just. Epit. 12.12.5–6). A sumptuous banquet “of concord” which Macedonians, Iranians, and other favored Asian subjects attended followed (Arr. Anab. 7.11.8–9). Afterwards, Alexander informed the discharged soldiers their children would be retained behind to be raised by him, he paid the veterans’ wages, and he provided a bonus before they departed under Craterus’ leadership (Arr. Anab. 7.12.1–4; Plut. Alex. 71.5). The sources report several possible causes of the mutiny. Among the tensions they report are a feeling that Alexander no longer valued the Macedonians, resentment of the presence of foreign troops mingled with the Macedonian units, his Iranization policies at court (e.g., royal dress, proskynesis, Epigonoi), and his notions of divine birth (e.g., Arr. Anab. 7.8.1; Curt. 10.2.12; Plut. Alex. 71.2; Just. Epit. 12.11.6).137 Scholars have often seen the tensions resulting from Alexander’s Iranization initiatives (political and military reforms) as significant contributors to the mutinous mood.138 Roisman argued that while the soldiers 40–42) concludes it is serious, but not mutiny; Pownall (2023) 147–49 and n. 51 accepts Carney’s evaluation. On the definition of mutiny, Brice (2020b) 114–19. 136 Although Alexander probably harangued the assembly, the content of this speech was composed later by our sources. Scholars have, to be fair, given different weight to the contents of the Opis speeches; for the historiography as of the 1990s, see Nagle (1996), but more recently see Atkinson and Yardley (2009) 126–29; Roisman (2012); Holt (2016), 24–25 nn. 4–5; Carney (1996/2015) 39; Olbrycht (2015); Lacey in this volume. 137 Arrian: οἱ δὲ ὡς ὑπερορώμενοί τε ἤδη πρὸς Ἀλεξάνδρου καὶ ἀχρεῖοι πάντῃ ἐς τὰ πολέμια νομιζόμενοι οὐκ ἀλόγως αὖ τῷ λόγῳ ἠχθέσθησαν τῷ πρὸς Ἀλεξάνδρου λεχθέντι, (“Since they felt already overlooked by Alexander and were considered entirely useless in war, they were frustrated, not without reason, at Alexander’s words,” 7.8.2). Plutarch (71.2) and Justin (12.11.6) report the same sense among the soldiers. Pay and rewards were not a cause since Alexander had already demonstrated at Susa that he would reward them handsomely. 138 The historiographic tradition has often placed heavy emphasis on the opposition to Iranization as seen in Arrian’s discussion (7.6.1–5 and 7.8.1–3), even though individual authors focus on it to different degrees: see recently Olbrycht (2008, 2010), Worthington

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

379

may have been frustrated at the reforms, the cause of the mutiny should be seen in a consistent and more recent grievance—the sense among the soldiers that Alexander no longer respected them, regardless of the reasons.139 This perceived disrespect included a reduction of status. Within the context of the army the Macedonians were the highest status soldiers. The introduction of Persians directly into Macedonian units and trained in Macedonian fashion diluted their special status. Roisman is certainly on the right track, but a contributing cause of the mutiny can be found in the conditions of service.140 In seeking to understand this mutiny it is helpful to consider the triggering incident. Mutinies resulting from service conditions are grounded in grievances present for varying lengths of time. Tensions can exist for a lengthy period and affect individuals or groups differently without resulting in indiscipline. What causes some groups to mutiny and others to not do so is often a particular triggering event. Although an outbreak of unrest may become increasingly likely as stresses rise, these incidents are generally unpredictable.141 Most of the Macedonian grievances identified by the ancient sources had been present before the assembly so it is worth considering what triggered the mutiny at Opis and not before. The conditions of service in the period after reaching Pasargadae are the context for the Opis mutiny and they suggest an underlying cause. In the peace that followed the return to Persis, there was undoubtedly a sense of uncertainty and anticipation as to what the future held. As long as there had been a war, the soldiers knew the parameters of what to expect. In peace, the only certainty was they would not die in imminent combat. Each soldier had a certain “picture in his head” of what he expected or hoped would generally occur next. (2014, 278), Carney (1996/2015, 45–46), Heckel (2020, 275); Liotsakis (2021) 257–58; Anson (2022, 25–27) and Pownall (2023, 148–49). See Badian (1985, 482) and Roisman (2012, 46–47) for different interpretations of the duplication in Anab. 7.6 and 7.8. 139 Roisman (2012) 49–50. 140 Two suggested causes of the Opis mutiny can be dismissed: provocation and broken discipline. Badian (1985, 479–83, especially 481 and 483) and Olbrycht (2008, esp. 237, 2015, 207–209) respectively suggested that Alexander provoked the mutiny to show them he was boss and break their opposition. Contra, Carney (1996/2015) 46 n. 108; Heckel (2009, 2020); Bosworth (1980, 1988a); Roisman (2012) 47–52. The flaw in this suggestion is discussed above in section 5.4 (the Hyphasis). The other suggested cause we can disregard cites the soldiers’ success at the Hyphasis as leading directly to the mutiny at Opis, Roisman (2012) 50; Carney (1996/2015) 42, 46–47; contra Heckel (2009) 81. It is difficult to find a significant decline in military discipline or loyalty. A direct connection between the outbreaks of indiscipline at the Hyphasis and the Opis is possible, but would at most have been a contributing factor in the military unrest in 324 rather than a cause. 141 Brice (2020b, 2020d).

380

Brice

We cannot know what these expectations were, but we can make educated guesses about some of them. Many men no doubt expected to retire and return to Macedonia, perhaps with Alexander. Some men may have expected to retire and settle down in Asia. Other soldiers probably expected to stay on in the military and earn status or wealth through continued service under Alexander’s leadership. Regardless of what they anticipated, the climate of uncertainty and expectation by itself creates tension.142 When Alexander announced the discharge of the older and infirm Macedonians the bubble of uncertainty within the army burst. Some men were not happy about it. The soldiers who expected to return to Macedonia but were retained suddenly found they had a certainty they had not expected. The same is true of those soldiers who expected Alexander to return to Macedonia with them. Not all the soldiers were angry at the announcement, but enough were to make it a serious incident.143 The soldiers’ unfulfilled anticipation is the immediate cause of the mutiny, and the other tensions (e.g., political change, Iranization) were contributing factors and even excuses the soldiers used in blaming the king for their anger. Little wonder then they expressed their frustration in terms of a lack of respect. The resolution occurred without further loss of life or any decline in Alexander’s authority. The seizure and execution of individuals (thirteen soldiers) who may have been ringleaders undoubtedly focused the mutinous soldiers’ attention.144 Alexander’s decision to seclude himself from most of the Macedonians (except the hypaspists and officers) conveyed a strong measure of displeasure.145 After a couple days, the Macedonians surrendered completely to his authority, offering to hand over the ringleaders or even asking him to punish them severely (Curt. 10.4.2; Arr. Anab. 7.11.4; Just. Epit. 12.11.6).146 142 Similar uncertainty after Alexander’s death contributed to military unrest at Babylon in 323; see Brice (2019) 40–43. 143 This military unrest at Opis is an example of a demobilization mutiny; see Rose (1982) 566; R. Lee (1966); Grint (2021) chap. 4. 144 Whether these thirteen were the ringleaders or merely extremely audible, demonstrative, and near the speaker’s platform is uncertain. Wust (1954, 420) suggested that these seized men were not ringleaders, since Arrian reports (7.11.4) the soldiers promised to turn over the ringleaders as part of their return to discipline. Wust also rejects (420) Curtius’ report (10.4.2) of their execution by drowning; contra Olbrycht (2008) 242–42; Heckel (2020) 275. 145 Carney (2000, 283) called Alexander’s seclusion at the Opis “the most manipulative” as Alexander took full advantage of his personal relationship with the soldiers and the fact their benefits (and to an extent their pay) were tied to him. She is open to the suggestion that the “seclusion” may have been an invention of later authors, but is unconvinced. 146 Soldiers requesting punishment for indiscipline is not unique to this incident; e.g., Caes. BCiv. 3.74; App. B Civ 2.63, 94; Plut. Ant. 44.3; and perhaps Tac. Ann. 1.44.1. Taylor (2022)

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

381

Alexander used the soldiers’ surrender to restore order. No additional punishment is reported, probably because it was unnecessary once the mutiny ended.147 He forgave them all, held a banquet of unification, and discharged the veterans with copious rewards (Arr. Anab. 7.11.1–7; Curt. 10.2.30–4.3; Diod. Sic. 17.109.2–3; Plut. Alex. 71; Just. Epit. 12.11.8–12.6).148 He then completed the restoration of disciplinary control by marching the army to Ecbatana. Resolution in this case reveals the difference between the mutiny at Opis and the indiscipline at the Hyphasis. Whereas in the latter case, the entire army and officers seem to have joined in the expression of grievances, Alexander retained at the Opis the loyalty of the Macedonian hypaspists, bodyguards, and officers along with having the support of Iranian officers and a body of disciplined Asian troops, and cavalry at hand. This loyal force, combined with the Macedonian soldiers who had not participated, ensured he had a counterweight with which to enforce his will. But such actions were consistent with Alexander’s previous use of speeches and his relationship with the soldiers.149 The resolution of this incident resulted in no further incidents of collective indiscipline before Alexander died.150 6.3 Opis to Alexander’s Death The conditions of military service during much of the rest of the period down to Alexander’s death in 323 were dominated by peace, preparation, and rest punctuated by a single campaign. After the discharged veterans had departed and discipline was restored, Alexander marched the full army to Ecbatana with some stops along the way (Diod. Sic. 17.110.5–7; Plut. Alex. 72.1; Arr. Anab. 7.13–14). While there he rested the army in that area as it could support an extended stay by the military. Hephaestion’s death in Ecbatana extended the army’s rest. During this period soldiers continued to fully recover their strength, but must also have maintained their standard military practices of training, suggests that such appeals should usually be seen as a negotiating position with commanders following cases of collective insubordination. 147 On a lack of punishments after collective indiscipline generally, see Brice (2020d) 252–53, 262 and n. 22; Taylor (2022). 148 Roisman (2012) 55–56 on the banquet. 149 Carney (2000) 281–85. See also chapters by King and D’Agostini, in this volume. 150 Carney (1996/2015, 38–39) suggests that Alexander’s treatment of the companions, including only those close to him, is a sign that parts of the officer corps supported the unrest. Such a conclusion seems unnecessary given that Curtius reports (10.2.13) the officers trying to restore order and no officer is implicated in supplicating Alexander. Also, the bulk of officers could not have participated in Alexander’s exclusion as they would have been busy regaining control of their troops and putting Alexander’s orders for change into effect.

382

Brice

drill, and the like necessary to maintain discipline and readiness. There is no indication in the sources of any indiscipline during this period. During the winter of 324 Alexander finally departed Ecbatana, launching a campaign against the Cossaean peoples in the Zagros mountains. Diodorus reports Alexander only used his light-armed troops, which makes sense in the mountainous terrain, though given the destruction and the prisoners taken it seems likely other parts of the army had a role to play even if it was not the full force (Arr. Anab. 7.15.1–3). Given the winter season and the mountainous terrain, it would not have been an easy campaign for the soldiers, but there is no indication that they suffered any setbacks. Plutarch reports (Alex. 72.3) that the war lasted forty days, after which military posts were set up. After the campaign the army enjoyed a rest before the march to Babylon. This was the last reported campaign before Alexander died. The general peace that had characterized military service in early 324 had ended. Alexander planned a significant campaign against Arabia. When he arrived at Babylon in 323, preparations for this campaign were already underway. New recruits from several parts of his Asian empire were integrated into the army while he was in Babylon preparing. This process of reorganization, which seems to have included some promotions among the Macedonian soldiers, would have kept the soldiers and their officers busy throughout the period in Babylon (Arr. Anab. 7.23.1, 3–4). The navy he assembled was also kept active with training, drills, and competitions (Arr. Anab. 7.23.5). No combat is reported in this period. The conditions of service in Babylon and the region were those appropriate to preparation for renewed campaigning. There are no reports of indiscipline, though with so many soldiers and rowers assembled near the populous city some minor insubordination and trouble probably occurred. When Alexander became sick and died in June 323, the climate within the army and the navy at Babylon changed quickly. The sources are clear about the atmosphere among those present—pregnant with tension driven by grief, uncertainty, and perhaps anticipation of what might occur next (Arr. Anab. 7.26.1; Curt. 10.5). These tensions did not fester long before mutiny broke out in Babylon and was only resolved through violence (Diod. Sic. 18.2–3.1, 7; Curt. 10.6–9).151 Military unrest among the forces formerly under Alexander was not limited to Babylon. Mercenaries and veterans left in settlements in central Asia revolted and abandoned those cities. This revolt was also put down forcibly

151 Roisman (2012) 61–81; Brice (2019) 40–43. Detailed analysis of the military unrest following Alexander’s death is beyond the scope of this volume.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

383

(Diod. Sic. 18.4.7, 7.1–9).152 After a bit more than twelve years of successful leadership, during which they conquered and held vast territories in what were often difficult conditions of service, Alexander’s army demonstrated how important the king was to the maintenance of discipline and its success. 7

Conclusion

It is not an easy task to study these militaries “from the bottom up,” but there are avenues of approach available to investigators. Careful comparative analysis proves to be useful in this case. There are certain truisms of ancient warfare generally that can be understood as applicable to the men fighting for Philip and Alexander. Chief among these potential constants are the conditions of military service. Some of these are institutional conditions unique to each military such as pay, provisions, rules and regulations, length of service, and benefits. There are also the conditions encountered on campaign or in garrison duty such as the strains of marching and fighting in diverse terrain and weather, tedium, pain, loss, enrichment, community, exhaustion, trauma, and elation, to varying degrees. Serving Philip and Alexander often included difficult fighting, battle, and campaigning, but there were rewards too. Considering what the soldiers’ service was like provides an opportunity to expand our understanding of the campaign and the soldiers’ experience and responses. Military unrest and insubordination are normal problems in disciplined, regular armies, but it is not always clear why such incidents occur. The soldiers’ service experience contributed to the outbreaks of indiscipline reported in our sources. The most important of these conditions during their respective reigns was probably the exhaustion that could occur from extended periods of fighting. A cause of collective indiscipline is intensive campaigning over a period, such as Philip and especially Alexander engaged in. Experienced commanders tend to encounter more incidents of this kind of indiscipline. This pattern is not a reflection of a commander’s ability but a function of more combat over a longer period. The fact that there was so little reported military unrest in the Macedonian armies of Philip II and Alexander III is, in part, a testament to their successful leadership. Both kings encountered military unrest, some of which was serious in scale if not in violence. They were each able to restore discipline and continue campaigning after addressing the incident. Neither king seems to have 152 Holt (1989) 87–91; Walsh (2009) 75–82; Roisman (2012) 84–86.

384

Brice

faced a significant violent threat to his continued rule in these incidents. As Perdiccas was to demonstrate several years after Alexander’s death, not every Macedonian commander was so successful in handling indiscipline (Diod. Sic. 18.33.4; Arr. Succ. Frag 27; Plut. Eum. 8.2). This observation reinforces the impression we have of Philip’s and Alexander’s leadership. But the best leadership in the world can come to naught without soldiers to lead. It is the soldiers, riders, rowers, and support personnel who made the campaigns and the victories a reality. This chapter is neither the first nor the last word on the history of these soldiers’ experiences, but it is hoped that it will stimulate further investigation into other aspects of the lives of these soldiers.153 Works Cited Adams, W. L. (1986) “Macedonian Kingship and the Right of Petition.” Ancient Macedonia 4: 43–52. Adams, W. L. (2003) “The Episode of Philotas: An Insight,” in Heckel and Tritle (2003) 113–26. Anson, E. (1991) “Evolution of the Macedonian Army Assembly 330–315BC.” Historia 40.2: 230–47. Anson, E. (2015) in “Alexander at the Beas,” in Wheatley and Baynham (2015) 65–74. Anson, E. (2017) “The Rise of Macedon, 359–336 BC,” in Whitby and Sidebottom (2017) Chap. 19. Anson, E. (2020) Philip II, the Father of Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues. London. Anson, E. (2022) “Philip and Alexander and the Nature of Their Personal Kingship,” in Pownall et al. (2022) 17–31. Antela-Bernárdez, B. (2015) “La campaña de Alejandro: esclavismo y dependencia en el espacio de conquista,” in Beltrán et al. (2015) 281–96. Antonetti, C. and Biagi, P. (eds) (2017) With Alexander in India and Central Asia: Moving East and Back to West. Oxford. 153 This chapter is part two of an originally intended two-part discussion about Macedonian indiscipline. The first part, which became Brice (2015), is cited incorrectly in Howe and Müller (2012). Parts of this chapter have been presented previously at Otago University, Dunedin, New Zealand and Washington University St. Louis, Missouri. I am grateful to those audiences for their insightful questions. I am also grateful to Frank Holt, Laurence Tritle, Jeremy Armstrong, Nik Overtoom, Thomas Rose, and Matthew Sears who read the paper and to the anonymous peer reviewers, all of whose comments improved the final version. This chapter is dedicated with great affection to Frank L. Holt, for everything he has done as a teacher, mentor, and friend.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

385

Armstrong, J., Pomeroy, A., and Rosenbloom, D. (eds) (2024) Money, Warfare, and Power in the Ancient World: Studies in Honour of Matthew Freeman Trundle. London. Atkinson, J. E. and Yardley, J. C. (2009) Curtius Rufus. Histories of Alexander the Great, Book 10. Translation and Historical Commentary. Oxford. Badian, E. (1960/2012) “The Death of Parmenio.” TAPhA 91: 324–38; Republished with additional notes in Collected Papers on Alexander the Great (2012), 36–47. London. Badian, E. (1961/2012) “Harpalus.” JHS 81: 16–43; Republished with additional notes in Collected Papers on Alexander the Great (2012), 58–95. London. Badian, E. (1968/2012) “A King’s Notebooks.” HSCPh 72: 183–204. Republished with additional notes in Collected Papers on Alexander the Great (2012), 174–92. London. Badian, E. (ed) (1976) Alexandre le Grand: Image et réalité: sept exposés suivis de discussions : 25–30 août 1975. Entretiens Hardt 22. Geneva. Badian, E. (1985) “Alexander in Iran,” in Gershevitch (1985) 420–501. Cambridge. Badian, E. (2000/2012) “Conspiracies,” in Bosworth and Baynham (2000) 50–95; Republished with additional notes in Collected Papers on Alexander the Great (2012), 420–56. London. Beltrán, A., Sastre, I., and Valdés, M. (eds) (2015) Actes du Groupe de Recherches sur l’Esclavage depuis l’Antiquité, vol. 35, no. 1. Besançon. Billows, R. A. (1995) Kings and Colonists: Aspects of Macedonian Imperialism. Leiden. Bosworth, A. B. (1980) “Alexander and the Iranians.” JHS 100: 1–21. Bosworth, A. B. (1988a) Conquest and Empire: The Reign of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Bosworth, A. B. (1993) “Plus ça change…. Ancient Historians and their Sources.” ClAnt 22.2: 167–98. Bosworth, A. B. (1995) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander, vol. 2. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1996) Alexander and the East: The Tragedy of Triumph. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (2010) “The Argeads and the Phalanx,” in Carney and Ogden (2010) 91–102. Bosworth, A. B. and Baynham, E. (eds) (2000) Alexander the Great in Fact and Fiction. Oxford. Brice, L. L. (2015), “Military Unrest in the Age of Philip and Alexander of Macedon: Defining the Terms of Debate,” in Howe et al. (2015) 69–76. Brice, L. L. (2016) “Insurgency and Terrorism in the Ancient World, Grounding the Discussion,” in Howe and Brice (2016) 3–27. Brice, L. L. (2019) “Seleukos and Military Unrest in the Army of Alexander the Great,” in Oetjen (2019) 31–45. Brice, L. L. (2020a) “Ancient Warfare and Moving Beyond ‘New Military History,’” in Brice (2020c) 1–11.

386

Brice

Brice, L. L. (2020b) “Indiscipline in the Roman Army of the late Republic and Principate,” in Brice (2020c) 113–26. Brice, L. L. (ed) (2020c) New Approaches to Greek and Roman Warfare. Hoboken, NJ. Brice, L. L. (2020d) “SPQR SNAFU: Indiscipline and Internal Conflict in the Late Republic,” in Fronda and Armstrong (2020) 247–66. Brice, L. L. (2020e) “Commanders’ Responses to Mutinies in the Roman Army,” in Gatzke, Brice, and Trundle (2020) 44–67. Brice, L. L. (2023) “Assessing Military Logistics and Diet in Ancient Greece and Rome,” in Donahue and Brice (2023) 403–32. Brice, L. L. (forthcoming) “Mutiny Narratives and Negotiation between Roman Soldiers, Commanders, and Authors,” in Dana et al. (forthcoming). Campbell, B. and Tritle, L. A. (eds) (2013) The Oxford Handbook of Warfare in the Classical World. Oxford. Carney, E. D. (1996/2015) “Macedonians and Mutiny: Discipline and Indiscipline in the Army of Philip and Alexander.” CPh 91: 19–44; republished with new “Afterword” in Carney (2015) 27–59. Carney, E. D. (2000) “Artifice and Alexander History,” in Bosworth and Baynham (2000) 263–85. Carney, E. D. (2015) King and Court in Ancient Macedonia: Rivalry, Treason and Conspiracy. Swansea. Carney, E. D. and Ogden, D. (eds) (2010) Philip II and Alexander the Great: Father and Son, Lives and Afterlives. Oxford. Cawkwell, G. (1980) “Review of Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army by D. Engels.” CR 30.2: 244–46. Dana, D., Faure, P., Hulot, S., and Wolff, C. (eds) (forthcoming) The Floor is up to the Military. Command, Dialogue, Disobey in the Roman Army. Proceedings of the Eighth Congress of Lyon (20–22 October 2022). Lyon. Devine, A. M. (1979) “Review of Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army by D. Engels.” Phoenix 33: 272–76. Donahue, J. F. and Brice, L. L. (eds) (2023) Diet and Logistics in Ancient Greek and Roman Warfare. Warfare in the Ancient Mediterranean World 8. Leiden. Engels, D. (1978) Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army. Berkeley. Engels, D. (2013) “Logistics. Sinews of War,” in Campbell and Tritle (2013) 351–68. Fachard, S. and Harris, E. M. (2021a) “Destruction, Recovery, and Survival in the Ancient Greek World,” in Fachard and Harris (2021b) 1–33. Fachard, S. and Harris, E. M. (eds) (2021b) The Destruction of Cities in the Ancient Greek World. Cambridge. Faure, P. (1982) La vie quotidienne des armées d’Alexandre. Paris. Feldherr, A. (ed) (2009) The Cambridge Companion to the Roman Historians. Cambridge.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

387

Finn, J. (ed) (forthcoming) Brill’s Companion to Courage and Cowardice in Ancient Mediterranean Warfare. Leiden. Fronda, M. and Armstrong, J. (eds) (2020) Romans at War Soldiers, Citizens, and Society in the Roman Republic. London. Gabriel, R. (2010) Philip II, Greater than Alexander. Washington DC. García-Molina, E. (2023) “Nutrition and Diet: Hellenistic Greece,” in Donahue and Brice (2023) 93–125. Gartland, S. (ed) (2016) Boiotia in the Fourth Century B.C. Philadelphia. Gatzke, A. F., Brice, L. L., and Trundle, M. (eds) (2020) People and Institutions in the Roman Empire. Mnemosyne Suppl. 437. Leiden. Gershevitch, I. (ed) (1985) The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 2, The Median and Achaemenian Periods. Cambridge. Grint, K. (2021) Mutiny and Leadership. Oxford. Hall, J. R. (2023) “Unit Cohesion in the Ancient World: An Introduction,” in Hall et al. (2023) 1–10. DOI: 10.4324/9781315171753-1. Hall, J. R., Rawlings, L., and Lee, G. (eds) (2023) Unit Cohesion and Warfare in the Ancient World: Military and Social Approaches. London. Hamilton, J. R. (1999) Plutarch Alexander, 2nd edn. London. Hammond, N. G. L. (1980) “Review of Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army by D. Engels.” JHS 100: 256–57. Hammond, N. G. L. (1983a) “Army Transport in the Fifth and Fourth Centuries.” GRBS 24: 27–31. Hammond, N. G. L. (1989) The Macedonian State: Origins, Institutions, and History. Oxford. Hammond, N. G. L. (1999) “The Speeches in Arrian’s Indica and Anabasis.” CQ 49.1: 238–53. Hatzopoulos, M. B. (2020) Ancient Macedonia. Berlin. Heckel, W. (2003) “Alexander the Great and the ‘Limits of the Civilised World,’” in Heckel and Tritle (2003) 145–74. Heckel, W. (2009) “A King and his Army,” in Heckel and Tritle (2009) 69–82. Heckel, W. (2016) Alexander’s Marshals: A Study of the Makedonian Aristocracy and the Politics of Military Leadership, 2nd edn. London. Heckel, W. (2020) In the Path of Conquest: Resistance to Alexander the Great. Oxford. Heckel, W., Howe, T., and Müller, S. (2017) “‘The Giver of the Bride, the Bridegroom, and the Bride’: A Study of the Murder of Philip II and Its Aftermath,” in Howe, Müller, and Stoneman (2017) 92–124. Heckel, W., Müller, S., and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2015) The Many Faces of War in the Ancient World. Newcastle Upon Tyne. Heckel, W. and Tritle, L. A. (eds) (2003) Crossroads of History: The Age of Alexander. Claremont, CA.

388

Brice

Heckel, W. and Tritle, L. A. (eds) (2009) Alexander the Great: A New History. Malden, MA. Heidenreich, S. M. and Roth, J. P. (2020) “The Neurophysiology of Panic,” in Brice (2020c) 127–38. Holt, F. L. (1982) “The ‘Hyphasis Mutiny’: A Source Study.” AncW 5: 33–59. Holt, F. L. (1989) Alexander the Great and Bactria. The Formation of a Greek Frontier in Central Asia. Leiden. Holt, F. L. (2012) Into the Land of Bones: Alexander the Great in Afghanistan. Berkeley. Holt, F. L. (2015) “Alexander the Great at Bactra: A Burning Question.” Electrum 22: 9–15. Holt, F. L. (2016) The Treasures of Alexander the Great. How One Man’s Wealth Shaped the World. Oxford. Howe, T. (2016) “Alexander and ‘Afghan Insurgency’: A Reassessment,” in Howe and Brice (2016) 151–82. Howe, T. and Brice, L. L. (eds) (2016) Brill’s Companion to Insurgency and Terrorism in the Ancient Mediterranean. Warfare in the Ancient Mediterranean World 1. Leiden. Howe, T., Garvin, E. E., and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2015) Greece, Macedon and Persia: Studies in Social, Political and Military History in Honour of Waldemar Heckel. Oxford. Howe, T., and Müller, S. (2012) “Mission Accomplished: Alexander at the Hyphasis.” AHB 26: 23–40. Howe, T., Müller, S., and Stoneman, R. (eds) (2017) Ancient Historiography on War and Empire. Oxford. Iliakis, M. (2013) “Greek Mercenary Revolts in Bactria: A Re-appraisal.” Historia 62.2: 182–95. Kajanto, I. (1970) “Tacitus’ Attitude to War and the Soldier.” Latomus 29: 699–718. Keegan, J. (1976) The Face of Battle. New York. Lee, J. W. I. (2007) A Greek Army on the March: Soldiers and Survival in Xenophon’s Anabasis. Cambridge. Lee, J. W. I. (2020) “Daily Life in Classical Greek Armies, c. 500–330 BCE,” in Brice (2020c) 39–52. Lee, R. A. (1966) “The Army ‘Mutiny’ of 1946.” The Journal of American History 53.3: 555–71. DOI:10.2307/1887571. Lefèvre, E. and Olshausen, E. (ed) (1983) Livius, Werk und Rezeption: Festschrift für Erich Burck zum 80. Geburtstag. Munich. Lendon, J. E. (2009) “Historians without History: Against Roman Historiography,” in Feldherr (2009) 41–62. Lendon, J. E. (2017) “Battle Description in the Ancient Historians, Pts. 1 and 2.” G&R 64.1–2: 39–64, 145–67. Levithan, J. (2020) “Roman Siege Warfare: Moral and Morale,” in Brice (2020c) 139–48.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

389

Liotsakis, V. (2021) “Disunity and the Macedonians in the Literature of Alexander: Plutarch, Arrian and Curtius Rufus,” in Michalopoulos et al. (2021) 245–74. Liston, M. (2020) “Skeletal Evidence for the Impact of Battle on Soldiers and Non-Combatants,” in Brice (2020c) 81–94. Lloyd, A. B. (1996a) “Philip II and Alexander the Great: The Moulding of Macedon’s Army,” in Lloyd (1996b) 169–98. Lloyd, A. B. (ed) (1996b) Battle in Antiquity. London. Low, P., Oliver, G. J., and Rhodes, P. J. (eds) (2012) Cultures of Commemoration: War Memorials, Ancient and Modern. Oxford. Luttwak, E. N. (1993) “Logistics and the Aristocratic Idea of War,” in Lynn (1993) 3–7. Lynn, J. A. (ed) (1993) Feeding Mars: Logistics in Western Warfare from the Middle Ages to the Present. Boulder, CO. Ma, J. (2008) “Chaironeia 338: Topographies of Commemoration.” JHS 128: 72–91. doi:10.1017/S0075426900000069. Marincola, J. (2007a) “On Speeches in Classical Historiography,” in Marincola (2007b) 118–32. Marincola, J. (ed) (2007b) A Companion to Classical Historiography, vol. 1. Malden, MA. Matthew, C. (2024) “The Wage Cost of Alexander’s Pike-Phalanx,” in Armstrong et al. (2024) 127–44. Michalopoulos, A. N., Serafim, A., Beneventano della Corte, F., and Vatri, A. (eds) (2021) The Rhetoric of Unity and Division in Ancient Literature. Berlin. DOI: 10.1515/9783110611168-012. Milns, R. D. (1976) “The Army of Alexander the Great,” in Badian (1976) 87–130. Milns, R. D. (1987) “Army Pay and the Military Budget of Alexander the Great,” in Will and Heinrichs (1987) 233–56. Moore, K. R. (2018) Brill’s Companion to the Reception of Alexander the Great. Leiden. Morrison, G. (2001) “Alexander, Combat Psychology, and Persepolis.” Antichthon 35: 30–44. DOI: 10.1017/S0066477400001234. Nawotka, K. and Wojciechowska, A., (eds) (2023) The Ancient Near Eastern Legacy and Alexander vs. Alexander’s Legacy to the World. Melammu 13. Vienna. O’Brien, J. M. (1996) Alexander the Great: The Invisible Enemy. A Biography. New York. O’Connor, S. (2015) “Private Traders and the Food Supply of Classical Greek Armies.” Journal of Ancient History 3: 173–219. Oetjen, R. (ed) (2019) New Perspectives in Seleucid History, Archaeology and Numismatics. Berlin. Olbrycht, M. J. (2008) “Curtius Rufus, The Macedonian Mutiny at Opis and Alexander’s Iranian Policy in 324 BC,” in Pigon (2008) 231–52. Olbrycht, M. J. (2010) “Macedonia and Persia,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 342–69.

390

Brice

Olbrycht, M. J. (2015) “The Epigonoi—The Iranian Phalanx of Alexander the Great,” in Heckel et al. (2015) 196–212. Olbrycht, M. J. (2017) “Parthia, Bactria and India: The Iranian Policies of Alexander of Macedonia (330–323),” in Antonetti and Biagi (2017) 194–209. Papazarkadas, N. (2016) “The Epigraphic Habit(s) in Fourth Century Boiotia,” in Gartland (2016) 121–47. Pigon, J. (ed) (2008) The Children of Herodotus: Greek and Roman Historiography and Related Genres. Newcastle upon Tyne. Pownall, F. (2023) “Alexander versus his Veterans: The Greco-Roman Source Tradition on Alexander’s Orientalism,” in Nawotka and Wojciechowska (2023) 131–55. DOI: 10.13173/97834471XXXXX.131. Pownall, F., Asirvatham, S. R., and Müller, S. (eds) (2022) The Courts of Philip II and Alexander the Great: Monarchy and Power in Ancient Macedonia. Berlin. Rawlings, L. (2023) “‘… They Were Routed’: Cohesion and Disintegration in Ancient Battles,” in Hall et al. (2023) 158–79. DOI: 10.4324/9781315171753-10. Roisman, J. (2012) Alexander’s Veterans and the Early Wars of the Successors. Austin, TX. Roisman, J. (2015) “Opposition to Macedonian Kings: Rewards for Riots and Verbal Protests,” in Howe et al. (2015) 77–86. Roisman, J. and Worthington, I. (eds) (2010) A Companion to Ancient Macedonia. Malden, MA. Rose, E. (1982) “Anatomy of Mutiny.” Armed Forces & Society 8: 561–74. DOI: 10.1177/0095327X8200800403. Rutz, W. (1983) “Seditionum procellae—Livianisches in der Darstellungder Meuterei von Opis bei Curtius Rufus,” in Lefèvre and Olshausen (1983) 399–409. Sears, M. A. (2023) “Organization of Military Food Supply: Classical Greece,” in Donahue and Brice (2023) 207–30. Sears, M. A. (2024) Sparta and the Commemoration of War. Cambridge. Sekunda, N. V. (2010) “The Macedonian Army,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 446–71. Spann, P. O. (1999) “Alexander at the Beas: Fox in a Lion’s Skin,” in Titchener and Moorton (1999) 62–74. Taylor, M. J. (2022) “Decimatio: Myth, Discipline, and Death in the Roman Republic.” Antichthon 56: 105–20. DOI: 10.1017/ann.2022.9. Titchener, F. B. and Moorton, R. F. (eds) (1999) The Eye Expanded: Life and the Arts in Greco-Roman Antiquity. Berkeley. Trundle, M. (2020) “Wealth and the Logistics of Greek Warfare,” in Brice (2020c) 17–27. Walsh, J. (2009) “Historical Method and a Chronological Problem in Diodorus, Book 18,” in Wheatley and Hannah (2009) 72–87. Wheatley, P. and Baynham, E. (eds) (2015) East and West in the World Empire of Alexander: Essays in Honour of Brian Bosworth. Oxford.

Conditions of Service and Indiscipline in Macedonian Armies

391

Wheatley, P. and Hannah, R. (eds) (2009) Alexander and His Successors: Essays from the Antipodes. Claremont, CA. Whitby, M. and Sidebottom, H. (eds) (2017) The Encyclopedia of Ancient Battles. Malden, MA. Will, W. and Heinrichs, J. (eds) (1987) Zu Alexander d.Gr. Festschrift G. Wirth zum 60. Geburtstag am 9.12.86. vol. 1. Amsterdam. Woodman, A. J. (1988) Rhetoric in Classical Historiography: Four Studies. Oxford. Woodman, A. J. (2006) “Mutiny and Madness: Tacitus Annals 1.16‐49.” Arethusa 39: 303–29. Worthington, I. (2014) By the Spear: Philip II, Alexander the Great, and the Rise and Fall of the Macedonian Empire. Oxford. Yardley, J. C. and Heckel, W. (1997) Justin. Epitome of the Philippic History of Pompeius Trogus, vol. 1, Books 11–12: Alexander the Great. Oxford.

Chapter 16

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great Jenn Finn 1

Introduction

One of the most fraught aspects of Alexander historiography is the disentanglement of the “truth” from “propaganda”; Alexander’s enlistment of a personal historian to accompany his campaigns speaks to a preconceived desire to convey a certain version of the facts of the expedition both to contemporaries and to posterity.1 Modern scholars, too, have recently renewed their interest in the idea of propaganda in the era of Alexander; two recent edited volumes are testaments to this fact.2 With Baynham, I assume that “propaganda” entails a deliberate effort to broadly spread messages that are meant to persuade a certain audience,3 often in a manipulative or suggestive way.4 But what is military propaganda in particular? Müller notes that military action is justified in Greco-Roman sources by the use of several key themes: helping others; liberating subjects from foreign rule; revenge for misdeeds and injustice; the maintenance and safeguarding of peace; and asserting unjustly ignored rights. In many cases, forefathers or heroes are evoked to buttress claims of just war.5 Alexander would most commonly use the revenge theme to justify his war efforts, although in a unique twist, he would often refer to the travails of heroes and demigods as a sole justification for further conquest. Expanding upon the efforts of his father Philip II, the execution of Alexander’s military propaganda—in multiple modes, for multiple audiences—was a masterclass in persuasion of the necessity for unceasing conquest.

1 For instance, Devine (1994) argues that Callisthenes was the ultimate source for the first three books of Arrian’s Anabasis. 2 I reference in particular Trampedach and Meeus (2020b) and Walsh and Baynham (2021). Squillace (2004a) has dedicated much scholarly attention to Alexander’s propaganda as a phenomenon. 3 Baynham (2021) 1–2. 4 Müller (2021) 406. 5 Müller (2021).

© Jenn Finn, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_018

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

393

Alexander’s campaigns present an important case study in the use of military propaganda, as he took possession of the largest territorial empire of his time in an extraordinarily brief campaign, leading his achievements to be recognized as exemplary for centuries—even millennia—after his death.6 Perhaps most importantly, we can paint an unusually full picture of his psychological warfare tactics, since the sources for the conquest are abundant. However, those sources can also present problems to the reader, as their composition in the Roman period (although purportedly based on research of sources contemporary to Alexander) often makes it difficult to distinguish Alexander’s intentional military propaganda from post facto literary renderings of it. Further complicating the picture is the fact that, as Trampedach and Meeus note, Alexander had several groups to whom he should appeal: the Macedonians at home; the distant Greek public; the soldiers in his army; and indigenous elites.7 Yet while oftentimes multiple audiences are indeed acknowledged, in this contribution I will show that, in most cases, even in “indigenous” areas, Alexander was primarily appealing to Greeks and Macedonians,8 even well after the death of his Persian foe, Darius III. 2

Appeals to History

While it is true that often, it is difficult to distinguish a target audience for Alexander’s proclamations, some stand out as being intentionally directed towards the men accompanying him on campaign. Popular in the early stages of Alexander’s kingship were recollections of his father, whereby he pronounced that the king was changed “in name alone” (ὄνομα μόνον διηλλάχθαι, Diod. Sic. 17.2.2) and promised that his administration would look like Philip’s. Even for several years after his accession to the throne, Alexander continued minting the same coins that had been in circulation during his father’s reign.9 These appeals were particularly important for securing the support of the men

6 All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated. 7 Trampedach and Meeus (2020a) 12. As Meier (2008, 194) points out (with reference to the universal rule of the Egyptian Ammon as juxtaposed to disobedient vassals): “… a polarizing rhetoric of domination and conquest that was intended for internal consumption within each realm would differ from the more congenial language of binding relationships that characterized international diplomacy. The same individuals could speak quite differently about the same event if the intended audience was at home or abroad.” 8 Kholod (2011, 150) notes this in passing. I intend to elaborate on that statement here. 9 Thonemann (2015) 10.

394

Finn

in Alexander’s army who had fought with Philip;10 he even refused to delay the expedition to Persia for the production of an heir, as “it would be a shame for someone whom the Greeks had appointed to prosecute the war, and who had inherited the unconquerable military forces of his father, to sit around celebrating a marriage and waiting for the birth of children” (αἰσχρὸν γὰρ ὑπάρχειν ἀπεφαίνετο τὸν ὑπὸ τῆς Ἑλλάδος ἡγεμόνα καθεσταμένον τοῦ πολέμου καὶ πατρικὰς ἀνικήτους δυνάμεις παρειληφότα καθῆσθαι γάμους ἐπιτελοῦντα καὶ τέκνων γενέσεις ἀναμένοντα, Diod. Sic. 17.16.2). Even before crossing the Aegean, Alexander sought legitimacy among the Macedonians and other northern Greek populations through reference to his father (Just. Epit. 11.1.10–2.1; Diod. Sic. 17.2.2–6). Once in Persia, to spur his men into bravery before battle, Alexander would often recall the memory of his father Philip, as before the battles of Issus (Arr. Anab. 2.7.3–9; Curt. 3.10.3–10; Just. Epit. 11.9.1–6) and Gaugamela (Curt. 4.15.7–8). Squillace argues that, following the battle of Gaugamela, Alexander no longer utilized the memory of Philip, which became a tool used solely by the Macedonian contingent of the military entourage to express dissent against the king. Philip’s exploits make a resurgence in the sources later in the campaigns, particularly when Alexander’s army refuses to submit themselves to further duress at Opis (Arr. Anab. 7.9.2–5; Curt. 10.2.23).11 But references to Philip were now used to highlight Alexander’s accomplishments in competition with his father, rather than as an extension of his father’s achievements and policies.12 Philip’s most famous contribution to the Macedonian military propaganda machine was most certainly the explicit linkage of his campaign to the need for revenge after the Persian Wars of the fifth century. The virtue and glory inherent in a victory over the Persian Empire was enough to enhance Macedonian interest in the campaign, but its most important audience was the mainland Greeks. The Greeks had come under the thumb of Alexander’s father Philip upon his defeat of an Athenian/Theban coalition at the battle of Chaeronea in 338. Following his victory, Philip made a sweeping proclamation at the so-called Council of Corinth; the Corinthian League, as it is known in modern scholarship, would become a byway through which both Philip and Alexander could leverage the sympathies of the Greeks to support their campaigns under 10 Squillace (2004b) 228. 11 See Carney (1996) 37–42. 12 Squillace (2015). See also Squillace (2004a) 17–29. Nagle (1996, 166) argues that we should read the speech at Opis rather as an attempt by Alexander to convince his soldiers that he had indeed performed up to the expectations of Macedonian kingship rather than as an artifact of competition with his father.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

395

the umbrella of a “Panhellenic Crusade” against the Persians.13 Philip quickly declared war on Persia “on behalf of the Greeks” (ὑπὲρ τῶν Ἑλλήνων, Diod. Sic. 16.89.2); if Polybius (3.6.13) is to be trusted, this was a very intentional piece of military propaganda, and Philip seized on the pretext (προφάσει) as an excuse for his own campaign against the Persians. The theme of vengeance served multiple purposes, including underlining the responsibility of the Macedonian king as a representative of the nation before the divine; in this case, Philip capitalized on the need for revenge for wrongs done against the Greek gods.14 Most scholars have taken it for granted that Philip’s “true” goal in his campaign against Persia was the fulfillment of an imperialistic ambition.15 Brosius has convincingly shown that Philip’s practical military interest in Persia was related to fear over its interference in Greek affairs (with the possibility of preventing his hegemony over Greece),16 but for both kings, vengeance was a calling card.17 Recognizing the utility of this panhellenic plea, our sources paint Alexander as immediately adopting its tenets upon coming to power after his father’s assassination.18 Adherence to the promises of the League of Corinth were expedient for Alexander in two main ways: firstly, he harbored concerns about the obvious and continuous threat of a rebellion in his absence overseas; furthermore, he had to manage the more proximate issue of the Greeks who fought beside his own Macedonian men in the field (the latter of whom were already motivated by the promise of glory on the battlefield against their Persian adversaries). The messaging emanating from the League of Corinth 13 Squillace (2004a) 60–70; Flower (2000); Seibert (1998), with a response in Bloedow (2003); Faraguna (2003) 99–103; Poddighe (2009). See also the discussion of Yates (2019) 206–208, who argues that Philip deliberately modeled this league on the Hellenic League, which had been organized to prosecute the Persian Wars. 14 Antela-Bernárdez (2016) 238. See also Pownall in this volume. 15 This conclusion is the outcome of a Forschungsüberblick undertaken in Seibert (1998) 7–9. 16 Brosius (2005). 17 Brosius (2005) 237. An outstanding study of the trajectory of the vengeance theme during the reigns of Philip and Alexander can be found in Squillace (2010), who finds that the Persian Wars were central to the self-definition and perception of both kings: “The vengeance theme linked to the mythical and historical past of the Greeks, moved the focus from the conquest strategies of the Macedonian kings to the world of the Hellenic towns, called upon the Greeks to join forces with the two kings, and to give full support to their initiatives” (80). Bloedow (2003, 274) also emphasizes the dual purpose of the war (vengeance and imperialism). 18 Antela-Bernárdez (2016, 240–43) notes that the connection between the wars manifests itself quite clearly in the depiction in the sources of Alexander and Persian kings (particularly Xerxes) “as contraries, opposing one’s history to the other” (240).

396

Finn

was propaganda par excellence for the Greeks. It established a panhellenic perquisite for war and implied common and uniform sentiment for that war, while also creating a sense of exclusivity for the combatants and their purpose (Anson calls it part of Alexander’s “charm offensive”).19 Curtius (3.10.8) makes this panhellenic message clear when he has Alexander approach the Greeks specifically before the battle of Issus, to remind them that “[the Persians] were the people who had made war upon the Greeks” (admonebat ab his gentibus inlata Graeciae bella; see also Just. Epit. 11.9.3–6). The same ideological maneuvering would be applied to his own soldiery; this was one of the most difficult constituencies to please, and he would eventually try every type of mental persuasion available to him.20 The concerns of both the Greeks and Macedonians were expertly combined by Alexander throughout his campaign, as is apparent in his letter to Darius of 332, where he states: “Your ancestors came to Macedonia and Greece and did great harm to us, although you had suffered no such harm yourselves” (οἱ ὑμέτεροι πρόγονοι ἐλθόντες εἰς Μακεδονίαν καὶ εἰς τὴν ἄλλην Ἑλλάδα κακῶς ἐποίησαν ἡμᾶς οὐδὲν προηδικημένοι, Arr. Anab. 2.14.4). Thus, the panhellenic motif was manipulated such that (despite Macedonia’s collusion with the Persians during the wars of the fifth century21), they might identify also with this common goal. Of course, the precursor to this fifth century conflict between East and West had been the original “Great Event,” the Trojan War. And this war, too, took center stage in Alexander’s propaganda machine.22 If we are to believe our sources, Alexander may have already been associated with Achilles, the main hero of the Trojan War, from an early age (Plut. Alex. 5.8; 15.8–9), a connection perhaps encouraged by his mother Olympias and wholeheartedly embraced by Alexander. His first major action upon entering Persian territory 19 Anson (2015) 223. See Diod. Sic. 17.4.9; Just. Epit. 11.2.5; Arr. Anab. 1.1.2–3; 2.14.4; 7.9.5. Kremmydas (2013, 200–201) argues that the rhetoric Alexander used was particularly Athenian, and was meant to ingratiate that city-state specifically. 20 Alexander seems to have struggled particularly with ingratiating his own soldiery. Squillace (2018, 154–56) notes this difficulty, pointing out Alexander’s construction of Darius as an arrogant king in his letter of 332. For the letter, see Griffith (1968); Bloedow (1995a); and Squillace (2009). Squillace (2018) adds that Alexander suppressed revolt through tricking the soldiers into writing letters to their families and using them to weed out dissent (Curt.7.2.35–37). By doing so, he made “new truths” and also covered the truth while “suffocating the dissent” among his soldiers. Squillace (2004b) also argues that Alexander’s speeches to his troops in our sources (which he believes represent real themes employed by Alexander in his addresses to the soldiery) were persuasive in nature and changed in tone based on the stage of the campaign. 21 See Zahrnt (2021) for the most recent treatment. 22 Hall (1989, 66–69) masterfully demonstrates the ways in which the Persian and Trojan Wars were conflated in Classical Greece.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

397

was to organize an ostentatious display of Iliadic imitatio: when he first landed at Troy, Alexander immediately embarked upon the performance of sacrifices to Athena.23 According to Cohen, in his sacrifice to the temple of Athena at Troy, Alexander had first proclaimed that his own campaign “was a new Trojan War.”24 Throughout the campaign narratives of almost every source on Alexander, we can find what appears to be an intentional mimicry of Achilles, the Greek hero of the Trojan War. The most conspicuous incidents include the punishment of Batis, the commandant at Gaza, whom Alexander dragged around the walls of the city in reminiscence of Achilles’ treatment of the Trojan prince Hector (Curt. 4.6.29), and his rather extravagant mourning over the death of Hephaestion (Arr. Anab. 7.14), as Achilles had done with his friend Patroclus.25 In another instance, on the advance to India, Arrian describes that Alexander found himself wounded and saved by Ptolemy in what is effectively an Iliadic aristeia, whereby he casts himself as the Patroclus to Alexander’s Achilles (Arr. Anab. 4.24.4).26 For Heckel, “the resurrection of images from the Trojan War were meant to remind the Greek world that [Alexander’s] campaign was a continuation of the age-old struggle between East and West.”27 2.1 Mythological References If our sources are to be trusted, Alexander’s campaigns were punctuated by continuous references to mythological figures, both to highlight the symbolic capital and historical weight of the invasion of Persia but also to justify 23 Arr. Anab. 1.11.5–8; Plut. Alex. 15.8–9. See Harrison (2004) 30. 24 Cohen (1995) 485. 25 Some of these instances are studied in Maitland (2015) 1–20. She attributes many Homeric motifs to the “vulgate” tradition, but simultaneously notes their ubiquity in Arrian. Flower (2000, 108) notes this event in Arrian as proof that panhellenic ideology is not just transmitted through Callisthenes. 26 See the commentary of Bosworth (1995) 162–63. While examples of this interest in Achilles are present in every author on Alexander’s campaigns (including Diodorus, Plutarch, Arrian, and Curtius), there has been heated debate over whether this emulation should be considered a literary fabrication of the Roman period. Both Ameling (1988, 657–92) and more recently, Stewart (1993, 78–86) have presented arguments favoring a contemporary obsession with Achilles. Stewart views Alexander’s desire to emulate Achilles as historical: “topoi become topoi precisely because they are universally seen to work as explanations for things, to resonate strongly within the social and cultural fabric of the times” (p. 84). Heckel (2015, 30) however, does not accept Alexander’s aemulatio Achillei as contemporaneous. The emulation of Achilles, he argues, was retrojected onto his campaigns because later writers were impressed with the striking fact that Alexander’s friend Hephaestion (as Achilles’ friend Patroclus) had passed so soon before Alexander’s own demise. On the literary effects of the benefit of hindsight, see the wonderfully edited volume of Powell (2013). 27 Heckel (2015) 21.

398

Finn

incursions into ever more distant regions of the empire. Most abundant were appeals to Heracles, also a staple of Philip’s propaganda. The god was particularly important in Macedonian religion and genealogy,28 and Philip continually emphasized his descent from the god (as, for instance, in a letter of Pseusippus, which presents his ancestry from Heracles as a justification for Philip’s conquest of Greek cities29). Alexander capitalized on the effectiveness of this strategy (Plut. Alex. 2.1). Allusions to the god were important, as he served as the main heroic figure in Greek mythology and Alexander shared his identity as a city-founder, civilizer, and most importantly, panhellenic protector. Already in 336, Alexander convinced the Thessalians to recognize his kingship through referencing the common Macedonian and Thessalian ancestry from the god (Diod. Sic. 17.4.1). Like his predecessors (including his father), Alexander also issued coins of the “Heracles-type,” depicting a young Heracles with lion skin on the obverse and a seated Zeus holding an eagle on the reverse.30 Antela-Bernárdez locates an expansion of the appeal to Heracles following Alexander’s sojourn to Egypt, when his own semi-divine nature—to mimic the pedigree of Heracles himself—was confirmed by the oracle of Ammon at Siwa,31 although our sources indicate Alexander’s continuous desire to sacrifice to Heracles well before that incident.32 In Diodorus, all of Alexander’s campaigns are framed in their thread from Europe to Asia (and back again; Diod. Sic. 17.1.3) as a completion of labors in honor of Heracles, from the siege of Tyre in Asia Minor (Diod. Sic. 17.40.2; also Plut. Alex. 24.5) to the seizure of the rock of Aornus in India (Diod. Sic. 17.85.1; see also Arr. Anab. 4.28.4 and Curt. 8.11.2).33 Our sources highlight a desire (πόθος) of Alexander to outdo the famous hero34 (as at Arr. Anab. 3.3.2, where he is proclaimed to have an “ambitious rivalry” with Heracles, Ἀλεξάνδρῳ δὲ φιλοτιμία ἦν πρὸς Περσέα καὶ Ἡρακλέα), and the god is cited throughout the campaign as an inspiration for battle, as in his speech to his men before Issus (Curt. 3.10.5). Alexander referenced the god to encourage his troops to continue the war effort after their presumed mission of conquering Persia had been accomplished: Heracles even pervades the finale of Alexander’s campaigns, as there was at least a tradition that Alexander intended to circumnavigate Africa to the Pillars of Heracles at 28 Düll (1977) 86–93. 29 Pseusippus 5.33–34, 105, 106, 115, 127, 132. The latest edition of the text can be found in Natoli (2004). See also the astute commentary in Djurslev (2021) 437. 30 Wheatley and Dunn (2021) 166–68. 31 Antela-Bernárdez (2016) 248. 32 A helpful list of pre-Siwa sacrifices to Heracles can be found in Heckel (2015) 26–27. 33 Rathmann (2016) 281. 34 Heckel (2015) 30.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

399

Gades, even using the prospect of world domination as far as the Pillars as a spur to his soldiers during the crisis at the Hyphasis river (Arr. Anab. 5.26.2).35 The image of Heracles was so effectively associated with Alexander’s military success that it was adopted as a symbol in the “posthumous Alexander” coinage.36 As another ancestor of the Argeads,37 the god Dionysus also served as a mythical paradigm for Alexander’s conquests.38 His rites maintained a strong presence in Macedonian religious life, and Alexander’s mother Olympias was said to be a particularly devout Bacchant (Plut. Alex. 2.7–9).39 O’Brien suggests that it was in fact the destruction of Thebes, home of the wine god himself, that set off Alexander’s long quest to emulate—and propitiate—the god.40 Dionysus is omnipresent throughout Alexander’s campaign, although Antela-Bernárdez locates an expansion of his appeal to the king’s campaigns in the destruction of Persepolis (see below).41 In our sources on Alexander’s campaigns, Dionysus was often paired with Heracles.42 Both gods’ exploits are cited as dictating the 35

36 37

38 39 40

41 42

See also Arr. Anab. 7.1.2. Diod. Sic. 18.4.4 mentions a road to the Pillars of Heracles as part of Alexander’s “last plans.” On the crisis at the Hyphasis, see Carney (1996) 33–37; Brice (2015) and Brice in this volume; contra Howe and Müller (2012) who argue that there was no “unpleasantness” at the Hyphasis and that Alexander did not intend to go beyond this border, as it represented the edge of the Achaemenid realm (his ultimate goal). Stewart (1993) 235–36. As handed down to us in Herodotus (8.137.1–138.3). Some legends told that Argaeus, the first king, had installed in Macedonia the cult of Dionysus (Polyaenus 4.1); on this, see Burkert (1993) 262, and Christesen and Murray (2010) 432–33. More specifically, a “solar Dionysus” appears during the reign of Perdiccas II (after ca. 450, see Greenwalt 1994, 3 and n. 2.). Hence, the god became intricately bound with Macedonian royal ideology. Fredricksmeyer (1997, 104) notes the importance of the god for Macedonian kings. “In the official state cult,” he describes, “over which the king presided by right of dynastic succession and officiated as high priest of the Macedonian people when performing regular sacrifices, the rites of Dionysus were of major importance.” For a lively treatment of Dionysus’ influence on Alexander’s conquests, see O’Brien (1994). According to Fredricksmeyer (1966) 180, Macedonian ancestral rites are described in one phrase in the so-called “letter to Olympias” as being both “Argeadic and Bacchic.” Rubinsohn (1997, 111–12) concurs (citing O’Brien 1994, 55). Ephippus FGrH 126 F 3 = Ath. 10.434b attributes Alexander’s death to the razing of Dionysus’ home city of Thebes; Koulakiotis (2017, 236–37) essentially makes the same argument about the importance of the destruction of Thebes—and Dionysus’ role in it—for understanding much of what Alexander does (and what happens to him, as a function of the wrath of the god) over the course of his campaigns. For a recent summary of the academic debates about the destruction of Thebes, see Moore (2018a) 15–23. Antela-Bernárdez (2016) 250. For instance, at Arrian Anab. 4.10.6, where Anaxarchus proclaims that Alexander could be more justly considered a god than Heracles or Dionysus (ὡς πολὺ δικαιότερον ἂν θεὸν νομιζόμενον Ἀλέξανδρον Διονύσου τε καὶ Ἡρακλέους). Overviews of both gods in the context of Alexander’s campaigns can be found in Edmunds (1971) 374–78, with the most recent

400

Finn

limits of Alexander’s campaigns in the East (Strabo 3.5.5; Curt. 3.10.5). Indeed, Dionysus was most certainly used as a carrot to spur his men further into India, and the king cited the god’s travels to the furthest regions of the East in the pursuit of this goal; Arrian (Anab. 5.1.1–2) has Alexander approach Nysa, supposedly founded by Dionysus (found also in Curt. 8.10.11–18), and in Arrian, Anab. 5.26.5, Alexander cites the same city in highlighting his men’s achievements over those of Heracles and Dionysus (a similar comparison is made in Curt. 9.2.29).43 At Anab. 7.20.1, Arrian relates Alexander’s plans to conquer the Arabs as a direct consequence of his desire to be compared to Dionysus (οὐ φαυλότερα ἔργα Διονύσου ἀποδειξάμενον, εἴπερ οὖν καὶ Ἀράβων κρατήσας ἐπιτρέψειεν αὐτοῖς, καθάπερ Ἰνδοῖς, πολιτεύειν κατὰ τὰ σφῶν νόμιμα, “his exploits would not be considered paltry in comparison to those of Dionysus, if, having conquered the Arabs, he would grant to them, as he had to the Indians, the ability to govern in their customary manner”).44 At Opis, the achievements of the army are directly compared to the god’s (Arr. Anab. 7.10.6). Alexander also supposedly celebrated a komos in honor of the god to celebrate his return from India (Arr. Anab. 6.28.1–2; Curt. 9.24–29; Diod. Sic. 17.106.1). While Alexander certainly maintained a veneration for the traditional Greek pantheon of twelve gods, the particular attention to Heracles and Dionysus during his campaigns served as a justificatory underpinning for his relentless conquests. It was a propagandistic ploy with broad appeal to his soldiery, but especially the Macedonians, who reveled in their ancestry from both divine conquerors.45

contribution by Stoneman (2019) 80–98. See also the critical analysis of the pairing of these gods in literature at Djurslev (2021) 440–42. 43 Bosworth (1996) 117–27, is an eloquent argument for the idea that the travails of Dionysus and Heracles in India were a “mythology of conquest” created at Alexander’s court. On this, see also Blanshard (2007) and Stoneman (2019) 80–98. Rollinger (2016, 136) sees the literary testimonies of Alexander’s “outdoing” of Heracles and Dionysus as a coverup for the fact that Alexander never made it past the borders of the Achaemenid Empire. For an elaborate argument that Alexander was recognized by the Indian populations as Dionysus-incarnate, see Goukowsky (1981). 44 See also Strabo 16.1.11. 45 Stoneman (2021) 49, surmises that references to Dionysus served primarily as a way to “enliven the troops.” Lane Fox (2018, 203–204) is very skeptical of Alexander’s attempts to use these gods in “a ‘propaganda’ machine of East European proportions” (criticizing Bosworth 1996 126–27), but this view diminishes the ability of rulers to create affective and persuasive appeals to the sensibilities of peoples near and far, which is the very nature of propaganda. For a productive discussion of the ways in which Alexander’s reference to Dionysus in the later part of his campaigns was a response to Achaemenid royal ideology made palatable for his Greco-Macedonian soldiery, see Degen (2021).

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

3

401

Appeals to Local Constituencies

3.1 The Greeks on the Mainland Greece was a perpetual problem for both Philip and Alexander as they sought to determine the best way to advertise their campaigns. Despite his professed goal of revenge for wrongs perpetrated during the Persian Wars, Alexander’s relationship to the Greek city-states was tenuous.46 The outstanding example of the double-edged sword of Alexander’s appeals to the Greeks can be found in the battle at the Granicus River, where, following his victory, he sent to the Athenians a votive offering of three hundred shields, with the epigram “Alexander, son of Philip, and the Greeks, except the Spartans, taken from the barbarians who dwell in Asia” (Arr. Anab. 1.16.7). Plutarch (Alex. 16.8) reports the same incident, noting that Alexander did this to “make the Greeks partners in his victory” (κοινούμενος δὲ τὴν νίκην τοῖς Ἕλλησιν). But the message was not always consistent; at the same battle, Alexander killed Greek mercenaries who had fought on behalf of the Persians at the Granicus (Arr. Anab. 1.16.2).47 The main potential stumbling block for Alexander while he was away in Persia was the threat of Greek rebellion on the mainland. Those on the mainland who failed to adhere to the tenets of the League’s message were to be publicly shamed as anti-Greek and unsupportive of a panhellenic cause. As seen with the votive offering at the Granicus, the principal example of such belligerence was Sparta. We are told by Plutarch (Apoph. Lac. 240a–b) and Arrian (Anab. 1.1.2) that the Spartans were the only Greek city-state to eschew membership in the Corinthian League, proclaiming that their ancestral custom forbade them from serving under foreign commanders: they were leaders, not followers. Spartan hopes for Alexander’s downfall came when a rumor of his death in Illyria provoked resistance from Thebes (on the destruction of the city, see below). After this, Sparta—though they would have rejoiced at their enemy’s misfortune—decided it was best to adopt a “wait and see” approach to Alexander’s rule. While military resistance was futile with Alexander still present in mainland Greece, Sparta’s initial refusal to join the Corinthian 46 For instance, the king was unable to use the slogan of the “freedom of the Greeks,” as it appears only once in the sources, early in his campaigns and in reference to the Greeks of Asia Minor (Diod. Sic. 17.24.1). Seager (1981, 106–107) notes that the slogan was adopted by the Thebans in their revolt against Alexander (Arr. Anab. 1.7.2; Diod. Sic. 17.9.5; Plut. Alex. 11). 47 Heckel (2020, 112) notes that the killing of Greek mercenaries after the Granicus had been a failed intimidation tactic, as it only made the mercenaries fight harder at Issus. Indeed, those mercenaries who survived the battle of Issus later collected under the wing of Agis III in support of Darius III (Diod. Sic. 17.48.1).

402

Finn

League was enough to anger Alexander and allow him to accuse the Spartans of “anti-Greek” sentiment. Her later collusion with Persia48 and instigation of a revolt under King Agis III in Greece (332) would be enough to seal the deal.49 Some have postulated that the references to the Persian Wars made around important events such as the destruction of the Persian capital of Persepolis (see below) were precipitated by fears associated with this rebellion, but this cannot be definitively proven. 3.2 Native Populations in the Near East One of the most important constituencies to whom Alexander found himself propagating messages about the nature of the war was the Persians themselves. Darius III’s flight after the battle of Gaugamela saw him escaping into Bactria, a distant eastern portion of the Persian Empire. There, he was accompanied by Bessus, the satrap of Bactria, who arrested the king; Alexander quickly learned that Bessus had staged a coup (Arr. Anab. 3.21.1–5; Curt. 5.9–1350). Alexander moved at double-speed to pursue the usurper, but Darius was soon inflicted with fatal injuries by Bessus’ co-conspirators (Arr. Anab. 3.21.10, or, according to Diod. Sic. 17.73.2, by Bessus himself). Following the death of the Persian king, Alexander immediately capitalized on the opportunity to ingratiate himself with the Persians as a king and commander. Justin (Epit. 11.15.12) notes that it was an explicit directive of Darius that Alexander avenge his death, as this was precedent and the “common cause of all kings” (exempli communemque omnium regum esse causam). As an Achaemenid and kinsman of Darius (Arr. Anab. 3.30.4), Bessus presented an obstacle to Alexander’s complete ideological takeover of the Achaemenid Empire. Alexander thus cast himself as the avenger of Darius, executing Bessus before an assembly of Medes and Persians (Arr. Anab. 3.30.3–5; Curt. 7.5.40–43; Plut. Alex. 43.5–7; Just. Epit. 12.5.10–12) to demonstrate his respect for the tenets of Persian kingship ideology.51 One of several Aramaic documents from Bactria may provide a clue as to indigenous reaction to the transference of power. The document, of an administrative nature, reads: On the 15th of Siwan, year 7 of Alexander the King (col. 1, ll.1–2).52 48

Cartledge and Spawforth (1989) 20. See also the letter to Darius at Arrian Anab. 2.14.6, in which Alexander accuses the Persians of sending money to select Greek city-states (with Sparta being the only one, allegedly, to accept the money). 49 For the war with Agis, see (inter alia) McQueen (1978) 40–64; Cawkwell (1969) 163–80; Badian (1967) 170–92; Badian (1994) 258–92; and Faraguna (2003) 104–107. 50 On the conspiracy narrative in Curtius, see Rzepka (2009). 51 See the discussion of Jamzadeh (2012) 91–98. 52 Translation from Briant (2012) 179.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

403

Two observations can be made from this simple document. One is that the Persians were counting Alexander’s reign as king in “Persian” terms (that is, counting up from the first date of the king’s accession). The second, and perhaps most important point, is that the date named here (year 7 of Alexander’s “reign”) counts his tenure as having started in 329 or 330, probably following the burning at Persepolis (see below) and the death of Bessus.53 At the most, this dating method may indicate that some Persians perceived Alexander as a legitimate Persian king;54 at the least, it demonstrates that local administrative officials perceived no problem with using established Achaemenid dating methods to recognize Alexander’s status following the death of Darius III. Finally, the mutiny of his Macedonian soldiers at Opis was a turning point in his campaign of propaganda to his Iranian constituents; Curtius (10.3.12–14) paints Alexander as delivering a speech directly to the Persian soldiers reminding them of the marriages at Susa, which had made common the victor and the vanquished.55 This action was a continuation of Alexander’s policy, “intended to establish ties between the new monarch and the Persian aristocracy.”56 Another facet of this effort was enacted when Alexander also introduced reforms whereby native Iranian soldiers were incorporated into the ranks of his own army; these men were called Epigonoi, or “Descendants,” a moniker adopted for them by Alexander himself (Arr. Anab. 7.6.1; see also Curt. 8.5.1).57 53 54

The precise dating is at issue here; for a discussion see Briant (2012) 179–80. Scholars have argued over Alexander’s status as the last Achaemenid king. Initially, Briant (2002, 875–76) argued that Alexander posed as the heir of Darius III and adopted the principles and organization of the Achaemenid Empire. This thesis was later challenged by Lane Fox (2007), and ultimately Briant himself changed his mind on the issue, repeatedly referring to Darius III in Briant (2015) as the “last Achaemenid king.” I concur with the presumptions of Lane Fox and Briant, although I absolutely believe that Alexander was aware of—and followed—many aspects of Achaemenid tradition. 55 Bosworth (1980) 4. On the marriages at Susa, see Arrian Anab. 7.4.4–5.6; Plut. Alex. 70.3; Chares (BNJ 125 F4 = Ath. 538b–539a); Diod. Sic. 17.107.6; and Just. Epit. 12.10.9–10. It is to be noted that all the grooms were Macedonians and the brides Persians, which would represent an incomplete and one-sided cooperative gesture. Indeed, Olbrycht (2016, 65) argues that, in marrying these Achaemenid princesses, “[Alexander’s] main aim was not to establish bonds of kinship with the Achaemenids, but to gain the support of the Persians and persuade them that the conqueror appreciated and had adopted their dynastic tradition.” On Opis, see Brice in this volume. 56 Nawotka (2010) 374. 57 For an overview, see Olbrycht (2015) 196–212. On p. 200 he argues that the Epigonoi did not join Alexander until 326, during his campaigns in India; they gathered again in Susa in 324, to “demonstrate their combat capabilities.” He argues that the creation of this body was based on a practical military and political need, namely the desire to weaken the military potential of the Iranian satrapies (Curt. 8.5.1). Hamilton (1987, 480) and Badian (1965, 160) both agree that this integration was occurring well before 324

404

Finn

Furthermore, also following Opis, Alexander introduced 1,000 Persians into the court guard of the hypaspists.58 This was risky business; as an attempt to win over the Iranians, it also had the rather obvious consequence of alienating the Macedonians.59 As Alexander’s campaigns moved yet further eastwards, additional— non-Greek—legendary predecessors were employed to justify the extent of his campaigns. In particular, Arrian (Anab. 6.24.2) and Strabo (15.1.6) note that Alexander’s passage through Gedrosia was informed by the harsh fate of previous ruler’s attempts there, including the Babylonian queen Semiramis and the Persian king Cyrus the Great.60 Howe and Müller have shown that Alexander turned his men back at the Hyphasis, not because of a “mutiny,” but rather because he had conquered territory as far as the Persian king Darius I, who—because of his negative associations with the panhellenic revenge motive—was substituted in the narrative for Cyrus, a move that would still appeal to his Persian constituency but would not be so abrasive to the Greeks. He commemorated his “mission accomplished” with the erection of altars in Near Eastern style.61 What of the mention of Semiramis? As subjects of the Persian Empire, the Babylonians—particularly as an audience for Alexander’s military propaganda—are also of interest here. Our primary indication for Alexander’s pandering to the Babylonians occurs upon his entry to Babylon in 330. Our sources indicate that Alexander was welcomed as a liberator in Babylonia (Arr. Anab. 3.16.3; Diod. Sic. 17.54.3–4; Curt. 5.1.17–23). Our most detailed account is given in Curtius 5.1.19–22, who gives us the impression of an event that was “peaceful and presumably colourful.”62 The entry into Babylon seems to have been staged in conscious imitation of the entries into Babylon of Sargon II of

58 59

60 61 62

(buttressed by Arrian’s statements at Anab. 7.8.2 that the arming of the Epigonoi had been going on “the entire campaign”). Following the Macedonian rebellion at Opis, the Iranian Epigonoi took the place of those Macedonian veterans who had been sent home (Diod. Sic. 17.110.1; Just. Epit. 12.12.4; Curt. 10.3.10); “in other words,” says Olbrycht (2015) 209, “in 324, the Iranian phalanx was elevated to the same level as the Macedonians.” See also King in this volume. Diod. Sic. 17.110 places this event after the mutiny, while Just. Epit. 12.12.4 places it during the mutiny. See Bosworth (1980) 9 and n. 66. Olbrycht (2015) 206. However, Bosworth (1980) 17, has shown that military contingents of Macedonians and Iranians were kept separate and “even mutually suspicious.” On p. 2 and 9–18, he suggests that Alexander used the promotion of Iranians in his military corps as a way to extinguish discontent among his Macedonian soldiers. Bosworth (1996) 182. Howe and Müller (2012) 26–34. Jursa (2020) 170.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

405

Assyria in 710 and Cyrus the Great in 539.63 While we cannot know for sure how the Babylonians viewed Alexander,64 the pomp and circumstance seems to have been initiated by the Babylonians (Alexander himself approached the city in battle formation, according to Curt. 5.1.19 and Arr. Anab. 3.16.3). Arrian (Anab. 3.16.4–5) does not mention details of his entry into Babylon, besides Alexander’s intention to rebuild the Esagila, which is perhaps also mentioned in a fragmentary chronicle (BM 36613); the temple was allegedly destroyed by Xerxes.65 Regardless, Babylonian documents do attest that work was taken up on the temple at least by 322/21.66 Alexander’s promise to upkeep the temples was an important way for the king to ingratiate himself with the local priests and garner their support so he could continue his campaign without rebellion. Yet, in referencing Xerxes and his impiety, as well as Alexander’s successful reversal of that trend, what we seem to have here is yet another nod to the panhellenic mission of the campaign.67 Thus, again, the primary audience here is Greeks, even after the final defeat of Darius III at Gaugamela; the Babylonians were accustomed to foreign conquerors and did not need to be “sold” on his campaign. 4

Universal Messaging

Much of Alexander’s program does not fit so easily into the previous two categories: he was sharp enough to know that the most effective propaganda was the type that could be interpreted widely and in whatever form was most productive in its local context. Several of the most famous events of his short career can be bundled into this category. Below I will outline some moments in Alexander’s conquests that served to underscore the all-encompassing nature and the gravity of the campaign and its purposes. While it was not his general practice, Alexander did destroy certain cities (which included Thebes, 63 Kuhrt (1990a) 123. 64 Jursa (2020, 170) assumes that the relations were friendly. 65 On the controversy surrounding whether Xerxes actually destroyed the temple, see Lane Fox (2016) 103–104. 66 See van der Spek (2003) 300–301; Kuhrt (1990b) 126–27; Sachs (2016) 144–47, connecting Alexander with returning houses to the property of Esagila and some possible building work on the temple; and an astronomical diary located in Pinches (1955) 212 rev. 14, dating to 322/321 the clearing of dust from Esagila. 67 Thus, Kuhrt’s assessment that the accusation against Xerxes of the destruction of temples was “reflecting a specific Greek version of Persian behaviour, of which Xerxes was the prime example.” See Kuhrt and Sherwin-White (1987) 77.

406

Finn

Tyre, and Persepolis); additionally, at select points in his campaigns, the king embarked on symbolic-ideological excursions to places like Gordion and the Egyptian oracle of Ammon in the Siwa oasis. These actions were often two-fold (i.e., both ideologically and militarily strategic), but nonetheless served as advertising moments of his campaign for a global audience. Even in patently non-Greek contexts, Alexander’ actions seem first and foremost to be concerned with a Greek audience, particularly until the sack of Persepolis in 330. 5

Annihilation of Cities (and Their People)

One of Alexander’s most famous acts of universal messaging was the targeted destruction of symbolic cities and, often, their inhabitants. The rationale for such destructions varied: a city could be rebellious (Thebes), disobedient (Tyre), or ideologically significant (Persepolis, and the territory of the Branchidae). Such actions served multiple purposes for Alexander’s propaganda machine: they instilled fear; functioned as a proactive way to prevent rebellion while underlining the gravity of the campaigns (e.g., at Thebes and Tyre); and provided a physical manifestation of the success of the campaign’s goals (as is most clear with the burning of Persepolis). This strategy appears throughout the entirety of Alexander’s campaigns prior to his westward march to Babylon in 324. While it is impossible to give an exhaustive list of these types of actions, a list of the most famous urbicides68—and their accompanying genocides—will suffice to prove the point. 5.1 Thebes In 335, all the Greeks were put on notice when Alexander utterly annihilated the city of Thebes.69 Under Philip’s 337 settlement with Thebes, a pro-Macedonian oligarchy had been installed there and the local democrats had been exiled. A rebellious faction of these democrats persuaded the Thebans to revolt from Alexander by exploiting a rumor that he had died in Illyria. The idea was to overthrow the oligarchy, for which purposes they besieged the Theban citadel (the Cadmea). According to Diodorus (17.8.5), the Thebans sought help from the Athenians, who vowed to send help but ultimately never followed through on their promise. Worthington declares it an “attack on the constitutional

68 69

On the concept of “urbicide” in the Ancient Near East (a theme which can be profitably applied to the Classical World), see Wright (2016). See also Müller in this volume. On the events at Thebes, see Heckel (2020) 35–40.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

407

machinery of the League of Corinth,” one that could not be ignored.70 With 30,000 infantry and 300 cavalry, Alexander marched 250 miles in thirteen days (Arr. Anab. 1.7.5), and though the Thebans were surprised by his speed, they maintained a good defensive position behind a double palisade. Offers and counter-offers were made; at first, Alexander did not appear to want to attack the walls of Thebes.71 Alexander invoked the Common Peace, and the Thebans quickly accused him of tyranny (Diod. Sic. 17.9.5; Plut. Alex. 11.8).72 After a brief but brave battle, 6,000 Thebans were killed and 30,000 more taken prisoner. Following consultation with those members of the Corinthian League that had accompanied him on this mission—Thespiae, Phocis, Plataea, Orchomenus73—they decided on the complete destruction of Thebes, ostensibly because the Thebans had medized during the Persian Wars.74 Important in this regard is the evidence of Herodotus (7.132.1), who notes that all the Boeotians besides the Thespians and Plataeans had medized during the Wars. That is, Thebes was not exceptional in its medism, but here Alexander mobilized the panhellenic myth for his own purposes. He certainly struck a chord: Arrian (Anab. 1.9.7) underlines the impact of the devastation of Thebes above such famous disasters as the Sicilian Expedition and the Athenian defeat at Aegospotamoi during the Peloponnesian Wars. Anson argues that the destruction of Thebes was the result of deliberate policy, an idea made manifest by the fact that no other such actions were taken against any other Greek state, and that the decision of Thebes’ fate

70 Worthington (2014) 42–45. See also Green (1974). 71 Tóth (2007) 398. 72 Diodorus (17.9.5) attributes this accusation to his immediate rage and decision to raze the city. 73 All but Phocis had been destroyed by the Thebans in the 370s and 360s, and Phocis had been a bitter enemy of theirs during the Sacred Wars in the 350s and 340s. 74 See Diod. Sic. 17.14.4; Just. Epit. 11.3.9–10; Arr. Anab. 1.9.7. Poddighe (2009, 108) argues that this was done to alleviate Alexander’s responsibilities for the upcoming atrocities and to signal that the council would be used against Persian sympathizers. It should be noted that the description in Arrian is markedly different, emphasizing Alexander’s peaceful intentions and the antagonism of the Thebans. He even places the blame for the attack on Perdiccas, whom Alexander was forced to follow against his will into a siege. Arrian then places the initiative for the destruction with the League members and not with Alexander. Tóth (2007, 407) does not accept Arrian’s apology, assuming with Diodorus that Alexander indeed was hell-bent on destroying the town before his consultation with the League, and finds Arrian desperately clinging to a vision of his hero that is incompatible with the “truth” of what happened at Thebes. For a comprehensive treatment of Theban medism during the Persian Wars and its recollection in the fourth century, see Steinbock (2012) 100–54.

408

Finn

was left up to its long-time enemies.75 It is important to note in this context that Thebes was one of the first city-states to revolt after the death of Philip (Diod. Sic. 17.3.4), and they had murdered two Macedonians installed on the garrison at the Cadmea (Arr. Anab. 1.7.1). Thus, even though Thebes was the home of Dionysus, one of Alexander’s ancestral gods, the need to send a powerful message to potentially rebellious Greek city-states trumped all religious concerns.76 They were now duly notified that they should not oppose Macedonian policy,77 and that the war must be undertaken as a unified effort: the Persians must remain the enemy. Anson argues that these tactics worked, and that central Greece maintained its peace—likely because of the example of Thebes.78 The fate of Thebes in the Hellenistic period reveals much about the reception of Alexander’s action, and the importance that the city maintained in collective memory. We know that, in an effort to make himself popular among his Greek constituency, Cassander, who fought for and won the regency of Macedon in 317, reconstructed Thebes in the next year.79 Pausanias (9.7.4) and Diodorus (19.54) both describe the reconstruction of the “ancient” wall, which scholars believe refers to the encircling wall of the Cadmea.80 This initiative was complemented by the participation of Ptolemy between 310 and 307, when he sent donations for the project (Paus. 9.16.1).81 Significantly, Cassander’s rebuilding project was met with vehement rejection in other circles of the Successors: Antigonus forwarded a decree to the general assembly of Macedonian soldiers stationed with him in Asia demanding that Cassander destroy Thebes again, lest he be considered an enemy of the state (Diod. Sic. 19.61.2). According to Tóth, this resolution made clear that, at least among a 75 Anson (2015) 223–24. 76 Fredricksmeyer (2003, 264–65) notes that Alexander is recorded by Plut. Alex. 13.4 as expressing remorse over the destruction of Thebes, perhaps because of its connection to Dionysus; similar sentiments appear in Arr. Anab. 4.9.5–6, when Alexander’s killing of Cleitus is attributed to the wrath of Dionysus. 77 Brosius (2005) 236. Worthington (2003, 65–86) argues that Alexander’s vicious destruction of the city was related to the danger that it presented to his kingship in their support of a pretender to the throne (likely Amyntas, son of Perdiccas). 78 Anson (2015, 226) notes that only those places Alexander had largely ignored or hastened through without campaigning—namely the Peloponnese and Asia Minor—were still liable to revolt during his tenure in Persia. He notes that Sparta revolted with the help of the Eleans, Arcadians, and Achaeans (Aeschin. 3.165; Din. 1.34; Diod. Sic. 17.62.6–7). 79 Diod. Sic. 19. 53.1–54.3; Paus. 9.7.1–2. Errington (1976, 152), attributes Cassander’s rebuilding of Thebes to one of many actions on Cassander’s behalf that appear to be “Anti-Alexander,” with a preference towards relying on the reputation of Philip instead. 80 Symeonoglou (2014) 148. 81 The reconstruction of Thebes during the Hellenistic period appears to be borne out by the archaeological evidence in that area. See Symeonoglou (2014) 149–55.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

409

subset of the Macedonians, the opinion was that it had been Alexander’s will that the city of Thebes remain destroyed.82 The controversy over Thebes in the era of the Successors reveals both the lasting strength and the ambiguity of Alexander’s panhellenic program; immediately after the death of Alexander, the continued utility of this rhetoric was unclear. 5.2 Tyre Upon his approach to the city of Tyre in 332, Alexander had already stunned the Persian king Darius (and, more particularly, his satraps in Asia Minor) through surprise victories at the Granicus and Issus rivers. The Tyrians, who maintained a powerful navy still technically under the provenance of the Persian Empire, had been careful witnesses to the preceding events, and, hedging their bets, decided to lay their cards with Alexander. Alexander was confronted by Tyrian envoys, who were generally amenable to his requests, except for one: Alexander demanded access to the island-based temple of Melqart, whom the Greeks had syncretized with their own famous mythological hero, Heracles.83 Alexander was quite angry at the Tyrians’ disobedience, though he was tempered in his speech to his troops: he claimed that it was imperative to take Tyre to master the Phoenician coast and ensure total Macedonian control of the sea (Arr. Anab. 2.16.8). Indeed, Alexander likely attacked Tyre for practical as well as ideological purposes;84 Tyre was a major naval power and could have provided a rallying point for the disaffected, including Agis of Sparta in his attempted revolt against Alexander. Success here would also mean a functional disconnect between the Persian fleet and one of its most important ports. Forthwith, Alexander began with the construction of a mole, or a causeway, with the intention of connecting the mainland city of Tyre with the island city of Tyre, directed ultimately towards the destruction of the city and the elimination of its inhabitants. Following a siege of seven long months, a final conflict and Alexander’s ultimate subjugation of the Tyrian forces saw the king lose 400 men to a Tyrian casualty number reaching 8,000 (Arr. Anab. 2.24.4), 82 Tóth (2007) 403. 83 For Heracles-Melqart, see Malkin (2005) 241–48. He argues (on 241) that the god was viewed as the founder of both the city and the dynasty, giving him a similar function to the Heracleidai at Sparta. 84 Amitay (2008) 92–93. Alexander’s motivations for besieging Tyre are explored in Bloedow (1998) 255–93, who ultimately finds that the siege represents “serious misjudgment, in which irrational impulses played a considerable role” (292). However, the author’s comments should be read with caution, as they are largely aimed at making a strawman out of Green (1974).

410

Finn

with other sources attesting to at least 2,000 crucified (Curt. 4.4.16–17; Diod. Sic. 17.46.3–4).85 To those found seeking refuge in the temple of Heracles, we are told, Alexander granted pardon. According to Arrian (Anab. 2.24.5), the rest of those found in Tyre, totaling 30,000 men, women, and children, were sold into slavery. Much like the destruction of Thebes, “The destruction of Tyre, the ferocity of which may have been due to Alexander’s anger or that of his troops, was also to be a reminder to those left behind of how Alexander would deal with rebellion against his authority.”86 5.3 Persepolis Following his defeat of Darius at Gaugamela, Alexander endured harsh campaigning that required the traversal of difficult mountain passes and resulted in significant bloodshed (Diod. Sic. 17.67.1–69.2; Arr. Anab. 3.17.1–18.9; Curt. 5.3.1–5.5.4). In early 330, Alexander arrived in Persepolis, the capital of the Persian Empire. When the king finally approached Persepolis, the satrap Tiridates surrendered its treasure,87 and Alexander’s ranks were sent to pillage and plunder the city.88 After a four-month stay in the city, we hear of a strange account punctuated by a luxurious banquet and the presence of a mysterious Athenian courtesan, Thaïs. Later a wife of Ptolemy,89 Thaïs is said to have proclaimed it especially fitting for an Athenian woman to destroy the dominion of the great Persian Empire. In some accounts, after leading an impromptu Dionysiac-style procession, Thaïs induced Alexander to burn the palace complex (Plut. Alex. 38; Curt. 5.7.1–7; Diod. Sic. 17.72.1–6).90 So, Curtius 5.7.7: Hunc exitum habuit regia totius Orientis (“Such was the end of the palace that had ruled all the East”). Arrian (Anab. 3.18.12) says that Alexander’s rationale for burning the palace was “to punish the Persians for what they had done during their invasion of Greece” (ὁ δὲ τιμωρήσασθαι ἐθέλειν Πέρσας ἔφασκεν ἀνθ᾽ ὧν ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα ἐλάσαντες); Plutarch (Alex. 38.4), Diodorus (17.72.3), and Curtius

85 Plutarch’s account (Alex. 25) lacks the detail found in other accounts and focuses its attention mostly on dreams and prophecy. 86 Anson (2015) 224. 87 The treasure was of enormous proportions; according to Diod. Sic. (17.71) and Curt. (5.6.9), 120,000 talents; Plut. (Alex. 37) and Strabo (15.3.9), 40,000 talents. 88 Diod. Sic. 17.70.1–2, Curt. 5.6.2. Morrison (2001, 42) reads the looting of the city as Alexander’s attempt to reward his troops for their recent difficulties in battle and to “manipulate his soldier’s emotions and to relaunch the propaganda of the mission …” 89 According to Athenaeus 13.576 D–E. 90 Arrian (Anab. 3.18.11–12) notes that Alexander burned the palace but does not mention a banquet.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

411

(5.6.1) offer similar sentiments. Alexander left Persepolis in ashes and again took up his pursuit of Darius into the territory of Media. Along with his time in India, Badian views 331/330 (during Antipater’s war with Agis III) as one of the most vulnerable periods in Alexander’s campaign, when communications were not secure and rumor was running rampant. Therefore, he argues, the burning of the Palace at Persepolis, a hallmark of Alexander’s “sudden” guise as the “Avenger of Hellas,” was a desperate attempt to reclaim the narrative of the panhellenic nature of the campaign amid anxiety at the outcome of the war in Greece.91 Heckel notes that the outrages committed by the Macedonians here satisfied their own lusts but also the ideology of the campaign, although he notes that the city itself endured (despite Alexander’s bad reputation for its destruction; Curt. 5.6.1–8).92 Equally possible is a view from the other side, i.e., that the burning served as a warning to “the recalcitrant Persians” that the age of imperial grandeur was, indeed, over.93 Almagor offers the suggestion that the destruction was a celebration of a translatio imperii from Achaemenid to Macedonian power; the former’s incredible power would now be visually represented by catastrophic ruins.94 This assumption may be confirmed by the site’s continued use by Alexander’s successors:95 “The ruins of the Takht,” Mousavi argues, “did indeed continue occasionally to perform as settings for affirmation of a notion of continuity with more ancient traditions as well as for symbolic practices of rulership and religious observance in the Persian heartland.”96 Thus, perhaps, the safest interpretation: the destruction served a dual function, to both “undermine an enemy, but [also] to cleanse his soldiers of the desire for revenge.”97 91 92 93 94 95 96 97

Badian (1994) 284; 290–91. See also Yates (2019) 237–40. Heckel (2020) 151. Briant (2002) 851–52. Almagor (2022) 124–25. Mousavi (2002) 212. Mousavi (2002) 212. Anson (2015) 218. On p. 216–17, Anson notes the probability of Greco-Macedonian anger among his ranks as they encountered mutilated Greeks on the road to Persepolis (Diod. Sic. 17.71.3) as a spur to the army’s desire for the destruction of the city. However, he also argues that the nature of the damage was limited and seemed to be executed in a thoughtful manner, likely as Alexander’s way to compromise between appeasing the army’s desire for revenge while also transforming the nature of the campaign from revenge to partnership. Other practical explanations have been tried, to less than satisfactory ends. Most crudely, Atkinson (1993, 10) painted the burning as a sort of team-building exercise: “… in organizing first the massacre and then the destruction of the city he was binding the men closer to him [Alexander] by shared participation in gratuitous acts of violence and destruction.” Snyder (1966, 129–30) more plausibly argues that the burning prevented some pretender to the throne from using the city as a rallying point for opposition to

412

Finn

The destruction of Persepolis would seem to have been the crux of his military propaganda campaign—but the expedition was not yet over. 5.4 Cities and Peoples in the Eastern Persian Empire Soon after his destruction of Persepolis, Alexander entered Bactria in search of Bessus, the regicide of Darius III. Here, in 329, Alexander took to razing yet another town. This one, in Sogdiana, just north of Bactria, was home to the Branchidae, a people of Miletus that had been displaced by Xerxes in the fifth century for their violation of the temple of Didyma. According to our fullest story (Curt. 7.5.28–35), although the Branchidae surrendered the town to Alexander without a fight, the king decided to call together the Milesians who were serving with his army and offer them the opportunity to treat these former traitors however they wished, based on whether they preferred to remember their betrayal or their common origins (sive iniuriae, sive originis meminisse mallent, Curt. 7.5.30). Their failure to come to an agreement meant that Alexander himself would decide; his preference was to pillage the city and kill all its inhabitants (Curt. 7.5.32). Presumably, the action meant to send a message to any rebels that Alexander would not stand for insurrection. But although his men were pacified by the satiety of their lust on this day, the message to native leaders was ultimately counterproductive, as it discouraged passiveness and any hope of clemency from Alexander.98 Tarn discredits the story,99 arguing that Alexander’s personal historian Callisthenes invented it, embellishing the tale with panhellenic propaganda to glorify Alexander; emblematic of this is Strabo (11.11.4), who attributes Alexander’s actions to the king’s disgust at the fact that the Milesians had betrayed the riches of the temple of Didyma to Xerxes (ἐκεῖνον δ᾽ ἀνελεῖν μυσαττόμενον τὴν ἱεροσυλίαν καὶ τὴν προδοσίαν).100 The other tradition of the event (which Tarn attributes to Cleitarchus) turned that story around and made Alexander the villain. Here, Plutarch (Mor. 557B) is exemplary, when he proclaims that even those who tend to praise Alexander’s memory do not condone Alexander’s rule. Bloedow (1995b, 40) throws up his hands at all these explanations and concludes that “no rational grounds can be found for Alexander’s conduct.” I cannot support the revisionist theory of Seibert (1972) 93–94, who argues that Alexander did not in fact burn Persepolis at all, but that the story was an invention of Greek authors who sought to falsely attribute a panhellenic motivation to the Macedonian’s campaigns. 98 Heckel (2020) 179. 99 His detailed reasoning is presented in Tarn (1922) 53–54; this rationale is refuted in Parke (1985) 64–65. 100 Parke (1985, 64) also assumes that Strabo is using Callisthenes here. For an excellent analysis of the sources connecting Xerxes to this incident, see Hammond (1998) 339–42.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

413

this action.101 Alexander’s campaigns were at a crux in this moment; Heckel considers Alexander to have “lost the propaganda war” at this point in his campaigns, with the ruling elites now distrustful and having embarked unwittingly upon extended guerilla warfare in harsh territory.102 But it is important to notice that, like the destructions of Thebes and Persepolis, in Curtius (7.5.33), this action, too, was justified by reference to the Persian Wars (Hdt. 6.19),103 although such posturing did not have logical utility following the destruction of the Persian capital.104 If the accounts of Callisthenes and/or Cleitarchus can be considered trustworthy,105 Alexander (or at the very least, his courtiers) employed familiar themes to sell a continued and—in his soldier’s eyes—futile military effort.106 On Alexander’s part, it demonstrates a remarkable commitment to a set of themes perceived to be effective in maintaining the loyalty of his soldiers and their countrymen during the entire course of the campaigns.107

101 Tarn (1948) 272–75. There is also mention of it in the Suda (β 514), which only says that Alexander garnered a hatred for them and killed them all (μισήσας αὐτῶν τὴν τοῦ γένους διαδοχὴν ἀπέκτεινε πάντας). The contents of Book 17 of Diodorus (the accompanying text of which is lost) mentions that Alexander slaughtered them because they were “traitors to the Greeks” (ὡς προδότας τῶν Ἑλλήνων). Arrian, reliant on the accounts of Ptolemy and Aristobulus, omits discussion of it completely. 102 Heckel (2007) 96. 103 Heckel and McLeod (2015) 239–41. Antela-Bernárdez (2016, 243–46) also notes the similarities in theme between the destruction of Thebes, the massacre of the Branchidae, and the burning of Persepolis. 104 Poddighe (2009, 140) argues that after Gaugamela, appeals to the Greeks transferred from themes of vengeance to themes of freedom; this example, however, does not show that thesis to be universally true. 105 Hammond (1998, 343) presents reasonable arguments for accepting—at the very minimum—that Alexander did in fact destroy the city of the Branchidae. 106 Squillace (2018, 150–51) neatly summarizes allusions to the “revenge theme” as appearing in different guises throughout the campaign to match up to Alexander’s temporary goals: first, the accession to the throne (revenge in the name of Philip); then, the beginning of the Asiatic expedition (revenge in the name of the Greeks against the Persians); then the prosecution of the war after the final victory at Gaugamela (revenge in the name of Darius; see also the similar conclusions of Squillace (2004b: 234) in his study of Alexander’s speeches to his army, as well as in Squillace (2022) where he finds inconsistencies between the use of the revenge motif and the true political actions of the kings). However, it does not seem quite as simple as this: Parke (1985, 66) rightly notes that the return of the panhellenic revenge theme here may be a symptom of Alexander’s need to reinvigorate the motif for his Macedonian and Greek soldiers, who viewed the campaign’s goals as effectively accomplished after the destruction of Persepolis. In other words, panhellenic themes—even vengeance for the Persian Wars—do not ever quite leave our sources, no matter how far into Alexander’s campaigns. 107 A similar conclusion is drawn in Flower (2000) 115–20.

414

Finn

5.4.1 Symbolic Field Trips On the opposite spectrum from the complete annihilation of certain cities came “field trips” that had no obvious military value: these excursions can be considered to have purely symbolic meaning. There are two quite famous instances of this type of ideological voyage: Alexander’s outing to Gordion and his journey to the oracle at Siwa. While both seemingly addressed local ideological concerns in an obvious way, they served to reify his own royal legitimacy and the necessity of his campaigns, primarily for a Greek audience. 5.5 Gordion Following his first defeat of Darius III’s satrapal forces at the river Granicus in 334, Alexander arrived in the ancient Phrygian town of Gordion in the spring of the next year. According to our sources, Alexander was told upon his arrival that there was a famous ox cart in the town, once belonging to the eighth-century Phrygian king Gordius (or Midas), which, according to the oracle, would bring the kingship of all Asia to the man who succeeded in loosening the yoke from the cart (Arr. Anab. 2.3; Plut. Alex. 18.1–2; Curt. 3.1.11–17; Just. Epit. 11.7.3–16).108 Alexander, achiever of impossible deeds, is said to have accomplished the task of loosening the Gordian knot, though there are varying stories as to his means: some say he cut the knot with his sword;109 others that he unfastened the pin that attached the yoke to the pole and then removed the yoke, with the fastenings unraveling naturally.110 This was an important propagandistic opportunity for Alexander, and its resonances were multifaceted. In Herodotus (8.138), the origins of the Macedonian royal house stemmed from a place near the so-called gardens of Midas;111 the king had been a figure of local lore, a fixture of the Argead legend as early as Alexander I.112 These elements would have endeared Alexander to his soldiers as a true and legitimate Argead king, concerned with the veneration of the origins of the Macedonian royal house. Munn suggests that Midas was indeed viewed by the Phrygians 108 Summaries of the story from Roller (1984) 259. 109 In all sources: Arr. Anab. 2.3; Plut. Alex. 18.1–4; Curt. 3.2.11–18; Just. Epit. 11.7.3–16. 110 Occurs in Arrian and Plutarch, cited supra. Tarn (1948, 264) dismisses the sword version of the story, “because it makes Alexander flout the oracle,” contrary to his character. Roller (1984, 262) favors Arrian’s assertion that Alexander unfastened the pin holding the yoke to the pole because it is “more in harmony with Alexander.” Zahrnt (2001, 206) too prefers a version descended from Aristobulus, claiming that as the last author in the first generation of Alexander historians, he chose to relay the “unheroic” version of the story, “obwohl längst eine dramatischere Variante auf dem Markt war.” 111 Borza (1982) 9. 112 Munn (2008) 131, citing Hdt. 5.17.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

415

as a great king; furthermore, the symbolic use of the Midas myth indicates an ideology of kingship that was shared from the regions of Lydia and Phrygia all the way to Thrace, as far as Macedonia.113 The Eastern connotations of kingship, fertility, and ritual surrounding the myth114 made the fulfillment of the oracle a deeply symbolic and powerful action which would endear Alexander to the local people as a figure engaged with their ancient tradition. In undoing the Gordian Knot, Alexander was an agent in the “larger dialogue between East and West and the landscapes of memory traversed by the Macedonian king”;115 together with his allusions to other heroic precedent, Hölscher views the cutting of the Gordion knot as an example of Alexander’s creation of a mythopoetic act for which there was no precedent at all.116 The fulfillment of the oracle, which proclaimed the inevitability of Alexander’s rule over all of Asia, was a foregone conclusion. However, in addition to the legitimation of his physical paternity through the Argead line, the symbolic meaning of this event was also connected to Alexander’s father Philip in a way that had little to do with genealogy. Philip II is known to have consulted the Delphic Oracle several times during his reign.117 On one occasion (in which the question posed is unrecorded), Philip is said to have been advised that his life would soon be endangered by the violence of a chariot: Eodem oraculo Macedonum rex Philippus admonitus ut a quadrigae violentia salutem suam custodiret. (Val. Max. 1, cap. 8, ext. 9) The Macedonian king Philip was warned by the same [Pythian] oracle that he should guard his safety from the violence of a chariot. Philip’s reaction to this oracle was to command all of the chariots in his realm to be unyoked. Through the fulfillment of the oracle at Gordion, Alexander took it one step further than his father—he had unyoked all the “chariots” of his empire, which now included Persian domain. The message of this performative action 113 Munn (2008) 125–26. 114 Munn (2008) 119–23. 115 Burke (2001) 261. 116 Hölscher (2020) 38. 117 Parke (1956) I. 233–43 and II. 108–109. Fontenrose (1978, 337–38) classifies all of the Delphic responses to Philip’s inquiries as “quasi-historical” and “not genuine.” There is no reason to believe that these oracles were entirely fictitious, and even if they were, they were rooted in contemporary discourse surrounding the king, which makes them important in and of themselves.

416

Finn

was clear: religious homage must be paid to his Macedonian roots (specifically those relating to Philip), but Alexander did not hesitate to make it manifest that his empire was different than his father’s: he was king of Philip’s empire, and more. He made his intentions clear even before winning a major set-piece battle against the Persian king himself: Alexander would conquer all of Asia, however he wanted to define it; he was a legitimate king, so the Macedonians should follow him unquestioningly in this endeavor;118 and nothing—no people, god, military, or knot—would prevent him from being successful. 5.6 Siwa Following his traversals down the western coast of Asia Minor, Alexander arrived in Egypt, and after a short stay in Memphis, set his sights to the Siwa Oasis in 331. His goal was the oracle of Ammon, some 500 kilometers west of Memphis. The event is omnipresent in our Classical sources (Arr. Anab. 3.3–4; Diod. Sic. 17.49–51; Curt. 4.7.5–32; Plut. Alex. 26.11–28; Just. Epit. 11.11; Strabo 17.1.43). The trip carried no obvious military advantage; Alexander went with a group of his closest companions and only part of the army. Curtius (4.7.8) and Arrian (Anab. 3.3.1) both give the reason for the visit as a “desire” (in Curtius, ingens cupido). Arrian and Strabo (17.1.43 = BNJ 124 F14a) describe Alexander’s desire to specifically imitate Perseus and Heracles, who were also supposed to have visited the Ammonium (though no ancient source gives testimony to such a visit).119 Arrian (Anab. 3.3–4) and Curtius (4.7.6–7) describe the terrain as dry, barren, and difficult to negotiate, although other sources (e.g., Diod. Sic. 17.49.4 and Plut. Alex. 27.2) describe miraculous events in which Alexander and his men were showered with spontaneous rainstorms that eased their suffering. In origin and practice, the oracle of Ammon was Egyptian (more specifically, Theban: Arr. Anab. 3.4.3),120 though the Libyan god Ammon was well-known to the Greeks long before Alexander’s age, and was considered to be the equivalent of the Greek father of the pantheon, Zeus.121 By virtue of his possession of Egypt and hence his position as the new pharaoh, Alexander was by default considered to be an earthly manifestation of a god (in this case, Horus, the son 118 Zahrnt (2016, 37) marks the Macedonian army as a primary audience for this event. 119 See Bowden (2014) 44–45. On the potential reasons for Alexander’s visit, see Ogden (2014) 9–14. 120 Anson (2003) 118. 121 The fifth-century Greek poet Pindar wrote a hymn to Ammon (identifying him as Zeus), which according to Pausanias (9.16.1) was sent to the Ammonians in Libya. Fredricksmeyer (1991, 205) argues that Ammon was widely identified as the panhellenic Zeus, whom Alexander had designated at the chief patron god of his war against Persia. For the worship of Ammon in Greece, see Classen (1959) 350–54.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

417

of Osiris, great god of the Egyptian pantheon).122 As such, some scholars have pointed out that Alexander did not need to travel to Siwa to seek confirmation of his divinity, and we have no evidence of any previous Egyptian pharaoh doing so.123 Our sources relate that when Alexander arrived at Siwa, he received some sort of proclamation from the god. Arrian (Anab. 3.4.5) does not indicate the content of the question, only that Alexander received the answer he wanted. Plutarch (Alex. 27.5) reports mistaken speech by an Egyptian priest whose rusty Greek turned an innocent greeting into divine attribution.124 Callisthenes (Strabo 17.1.43 = BNJ 124 F14a), the source to which all versions of the event can be traced,125 notes that Alexander was expressly told by the priests at the temple that he was the son of Zeus (τοῦτο μέντοι ῥητῶς εἰπεῖν τὸν ἄνθρωπον πρὸς τὸν βασιλέα ὅτι εἴη Διὸς υἱός). Curtius (4.7.30) carries on this tradition, relating that henceforth Alexander ordered that the title “son of Jupiter” (with no mention of “Ammon”) be appended to his name. According to Howe, this part of the tradition that extends from Callisthenes focused solely on the Greek attribution of the god’s name, for a solely Greek audience (he is described after this event as the “sprung from Zeus” in Plut. Alex. 33.1).126 Strangely, then, we must view this “field trip” primarily in Greek terms, rather than as a purported attempt to appeal to his new Egyptian constituents. In fact, just like the “trip” to Gordion, this visit was about Greco-Macedonian legitimacy. Plutarch relates a story whereby Philip is said to have found his 122 Fredricksmeyer (1991, 199–200) notes that because of his status as Pharoah (accorded to him in a possible coronation ceremony upon his arrival in Memphis in 332), Alexander was ex officio the son of a god, and would not be required to journey to the oracle at Siwa to obtain that status. Burstein (1991) 145, argues that Alexander was not crowned at Memphis at all. A fictitious titulary (most likely being proclaimed for the first time at Siwa) was created for him by the Egyptian priests, but this was a minimal appellation traditionally afforded to any foreign conqueror; he argues, additionally, that Alexander’s own interest in Egyptian religious affairs mirrored their enthusiasm towards him. Furthermore, Burstein (1994, 381–87) argues that Alexander was not heir to an Egyptian state newly freed from a “Persian oppression.” According to our sources, Alexander was welcomed as a liberator in Egypt (Curt. 4.7.2; Arr. Anab. 3.1.2; Diod. Sic. 17.49.2) and he took on traditional titles, such as “beloved of Ammon” and “son of Ra” (Hammond 1980, 123). 123 However, Bowden (2014, 51–52) argues that the trip was one taken by many previous rulers, including the Persian king Cambyses, and was thus an important symbolic action for his Egyptian constituents. See also Müller (2016). 124 See Larsen (1932) 70–75, for a further discussion of this debate. Collins (2014, 73) surmises that the story about the priest’s mistaken Greek was inserted into the tradition by Cleitarchus. 125 See discussion and bibliography in Rzepka BNJ 124 F14a. 126 Howe (2013) 62. Fredricksmeyer (2003) 272, agrees.

418

Finn

wife Olympias, mother of Alexander, lying in bed with a snake beside her body (Plut. Alex. 3). The situation warranted a visit to the Delphic oracle to inquire of the meaning of this troubling find. Philip purportedly received this message: Οὐ μὴν ἀλλὰ Φιλίππῳ μὲν μετὰ τὸ φάσμα πέμψαντι Χαίρωνα τὸν Μεγαλοπολίτην εἰς Δελφοὺς χρησμὸν κομισθῆναι λέγουσι παρὰ τοῦ θεοῦ, κελεύοντος Ἄμμωνι θύειν καὶ σέβεσθαι μάλιστα τοῦτον τὸν θεόν· ἀποβαλεῖν δὲ τῶν ὄψεων αὐτὸν τὴν ἑτέραν, ἣν τῷ τῆς θύρας ἁρμῷ προσβαλών, κατώπτευσεν ἐν μορφῇ δράκοντος συνευναζόμενον τῇ γυναικὶ τὸν θεόν. (Plut. Alex. 3.1–3) But they say that after Philip saw this miraculous thing, he sent Chaeron of Megalopolis to Delphi to seek an oracle from the god, who ordered him to sacrifice to Ammon and to pay homage to that god especially. He was also told that he would lose the one eye, with which he had peeped through the hole of the door when he had seen the god, in the shape of a snake, taking company with his wife. Philip lost the eye at the siege of Methone a few years after the birth of Alexander,127 and twenty years later, his son deemed it pressing (in fact, he had a πόθος!), despite the harsh conditions on the way, to visit the Oracle of Ammon at Siwa in the Egyptian desert. In his visit to Siwa, Alexander had finally fulfilled that oracle given to Philip, just as he had done at Gordion;128 this time he confirmed his sonship, outdoing his father by calling attention to both his human and divine paternity. The recognition of Philip, however, was as convenient here as it was as Gordion, as Alexander’s troops were pacified by the memory of their former general, albeit artificially construed in both events.129 More striking, our source material indicates that Alexander’s primary desire at Siwa was to understand his divine paternity, a pronouncement unlikely to emanate from a conservative Greek oracle; he thus had to seek answers here, rather than from Delphi, for instance, or Dodona.130 Alexander’s 127 Besides this “historic fact,” Parke (1956) makes the remainder of the prophecy a late introduction into the canon, based on the legend surrounding Alexander’s visit to the Oracle. I do not see any reason to assume this. Furthermore, the dismissal of one part of the oracle and the acceptance of another part seems unsound. 128 Edmunds (1971, 379) also believes that the two visits are connected, but because Alexander wanted to receive confirmation at Siwa of his impending rulership over Asia, as it was prophesied at Gordion upon his cutting of the knot. 129 Given this conclusion, it seems to me that the debate about who may have overheard the oracle’s pronouncement is immaterial. See Langer (1981) 122. 130 Collins (2014) 73–74, with Anson (2003) 124–25. Bosworth (1988, 283–84) notes that, throughout his campaigns, Alexander never repudiated Philip as his mortal father; at

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

419

paternity was an issue of no import to the Egyptians, but it was of paramount significance for the Greeks.131 Indeed, Howe connects similar motivations to his earlier visit to Delphi following the Council at Corinth as ways to “add credence to his campaign.”132 Therefore, we should not be fooled into thinking that Alexander’s actions at either Gordion or Siwa were solely—or even primarily—appeals to native constituencies. This early in the campaigns, he still had to prove himself—and the worth of his mission—at home. 6

Conclusion

Some have noticed a shift in Alexander’s propagandistic strategy before and after the battle of Gaugamela;133 although “ideological field trips,” for instance, did not carry the same caché after his final victory over Darius III, our survey has shown that other strategies—appeals to history or mythology, and the annihilation of cities and peoples, for instance—remained an active part of Alexander’s military propaganda machine. Several themes were actively employed through the entire course of Alexander’s campaigns, including references to the fifth century Persian Wars; allusions to the achievements and reputation of his father Philip II; and comparisons to legends, heroes, and the divine. In the advertisement of his campaigns, Alexander utilized a multifaceted approach that included rhetoric, religious assertions, diplomacy, terror, and a bit of revisionist history. Our survey has also shown the unsurprising result that, as his most proximate constituency, Alexander’s soldiery was a primary target for his military propaganda. Perhaps more surprising, however, is Alexander’s remarkable and consistent commitment to selling his campaign to the Greeks on the mainland. Siwa he confirmed his dual paternity, which came to be recognized even among his own soldiers. Kienast (1987, 325) notes that the flatterers at Alexander’s court accepted his sonship of Ammon but “die makedonische Opposition” accused Alexander of posing as the son of a foreign god. Howe (2013, 65) on the other hand, argues that the negative associations among the Macedonians that are attributed to Alexander’s claims to divinity through this oracular visit are appended to the narrative later in the Roman period (e.g., in Curtius and Justin), and thus it is not fair for modern readers to assume that Alexander’s intentions were anything more than to buttress his Hellenic propaganda, as we see in the narrative of the event stemming from Callisthenes. 131 In fact, Pownall (2021) esp. 38–41, makes the fascinating case that the story (specifically, parts of it in Arrian that diverge from other sources) was actually more important to Ptolemy’s legitimacy as an Egyptian pharaoh than it was to Alexander’s position as such. 132 Howe (2013) 61. 133 See the astute remarks of Squillace (2004b), whose article focuses mostly on the topics of various λόγοι of Alexander presented in our sources.

420

Finn

This is not to say that everything Alexander did was meant to ingratiate the Greeks and Macedonians, but even those propagandistic events that appear to be geared specifically towards a local constituency, like the Babylonians, or the Indians, are also justificatory overtures to the Greeks. A final point of consideration: in the mid-twentieth century, Tarn proffered arguments that many of these propagandistic events (e.g., the Gordian knot, or the massacre of the Branchidae) were fictions probably passed down by Cleitarchus or Callisthenes. While the ubiquity of most of these persuasion techniques gives some comfort to the weary reader, we must also grapple with the fact that the way we read Alexander’s “military propaganda” is often tainted by Hellenistic/Roman interpretations and receptions, which will vary according to authorial goals and contexts.134 Be that as it may, as students of his campaigns, these authors reveal to us just how important it was for Alexander—at all stages of his conquests—to be conscious of the tenuous nature of support for his campaigns, both at home (on the march) and abroad.135 Works Cited Almagor, E. (2022) “A Lasting Impact? Alexander the Great and the Ruin/Creation of Persepolis,” in Mendoza and Antela-Bernárdez (2022) 119–36. Alonso Troncoso, V. and Anson, E. (eds) (2013) After Alexander: The Time of the Diadochi (323–281 BC). Oxford. Ameling, W. (1988) “Alexander und Achilleus. Eine Bestandaufnahme,” in Will and Heinrichs (1987) 657–92. Amitay, O. (2008) “Why Did Alexander the Great Besiege Tyre?” Athenaeum 96.1 (2008): 91–102. Anson, E. M. (2003) “Alexander and Siwah.” AncW 34: 117–30. Anson, E. M. (2021) “‘Shock and Awe’ à la Alexander the Great,” in Heckel et al. (2021) 215–34. Antela-Bernárdez, B. (2016) “Like Gods Among Men: The Use of Religion and Mythical Issues during Alexander’s Campaign,” in Ulanowski (2016b) 235–55. Atkinson, J. E. (1993) “Troubled Spirits in Persepolis,” in Vogel-Weidemann and Scholtemeijer (2003) 5–15. Badian, E. (1965) “Orientals in Alexander’s Army.” JHS 85: 160–61. 134 See the pointed comments on the inconsistent theme of Heracles in Alexander’s campaigns in Djurslev (2021) and particularly his assertion on p. 444. 135 My sincerest thanks to Ed Anson for inviting me to contribute to this project. I have been—and will continue to be—admiring of and influenced by his work.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

421

Badian, E. (1967) “Agis III.” Hermes 95.2: 170–92. Badian, E. (ed) (1976) Alexandre le Grand, image et réalité. Geneva. Badian, E. (1994) “Agis III: Revisions and Reflections,” in Worthington (1994) 258–92. Baynham, E. (2021) “‘Selling Alexander’: The Concept and Use of Propaganda in the Age of Alexander,” in Walsh and Baynham (2021) 1–13. Beard, M. and North, J. (eds) (1990) Pagan Priests. London. Bearzot, C. and Landucci Gattinoni, F. (eds) (2016) Alexander’s Legacy: Atti del Convegno, Università Cattolica del Sacro Cuore, Milano 2015. Rome. Binder, C., Börm, H., and Luther, A. (eds) (2016) Diwan, Studies in the History and Culture of the Ancient Near East and the Eastern Mediterranean / Untersuchungen zu Geschichte und Kultur des Nahen Ostens und des östlichen Mittelmeerraumes im Altertum, Festschrift für Josef Wiesehöfer zum 65. Geburtstag. Duisburg. Blanshard, A. J. L. (2007) “Alexander’s Mythic Journey into India,” in Prabha Ray and Potts, (2007) 28–39. Bloedow, E. (1995a) “Diplomatic Negotiations between Darius and Alexander following the Battle of Issus: Implications in the First Phase at Marathus in Phoenicia in 333/332 BC.” AHB 9: 93–110. Bloedow, E. (1995b) “That Great Puzzle in the History of Alexander: Back into the ‘primal pit of historical murk,’” in Schubert et al. (1995) 23–41. Bloedow, E. (1998) “The Siege of Tyre in 332 BC: Alexander at the Crossroads of his Career.” PP 301: 255–93. Bloedow, E. (2003) “Why did Philip and Alexander Launch a War against the Persian Empire?” AC 72: 261–74. Böhm, S. and von Eickstedt, K.-V. (eds) (2001) Ithake. Festschrift für Jörg Schäfer zum 75. Geburtstag am 25. April 2001. Würzburg. Borza, E. (1982) “Athenians, Macedonians, and the Origins of the Macedonian Royal House.” Hesperia 19: 7–13. Bosman, P. R. (ed) (2014) Alexander in Africa. AClass Supplement V. Pretoria. Bosworth, A. B. (1980) “Alexander and the Iranians.” JHS 100: 1–21. Bosworth, A. B. (1988) Conquest and Empire: The Reign of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Bosworth, A. B. (1995) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander. Vol. 2, Commentary on Books 4–5. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1996) Alexander and the East: The Tragedy of Triumph. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. and Baynham, E. (eds) (2000) Alexander the Great in Fact and Fiction. Oxford. Bowden, H. (2014) “Alexander in Egypt: Considering the Egyptian Evidence,” in Bosman (2014) 38–55. Briant, P. (2002) From Cyrus to Alexander (translated by P. T. Daniels). Winona Lake, IN.

422

Finn

Briant, P. (2012) Alexander the Great and his Empire: A Short Introduction (translated by Amelie Kuhrt). Princeton. Briant, P. (2015) Darius in the Shadow of Alexander (translated by Jane Marie Todd). Cambridge. Brice, L. L. (2015), “Military Unrest in the Age of Philip and Alexander of Macedon: Defining the Terms of Debate,” in Howe et al. (2015) 69–76. Brosius, M. (2005) “Why Persia Became the Enemy of Macedon,” in Henkelman and Kuhrt (2005) 227–37. Burke, B. (2001) “Anatolian Origins of the Gordian Knot Legend.” GRBS 42: 255–61. Burkert, W. (1993) “Bacchic Teletai in the Hellenistic Age,” in Carpenter and Faraone (1993) 259–75. Burstein, S. (1991) “Pharaoh Alexander: A Scholarly Myth?” AncSoc 22: 139–45. Burstein, S. (1994) “Alexander in Egypt: Continuity or Change,” in Sancisi-Weerdenburg et al. (1994) 381–87. Carney, E. D. (1996) “Macedonians and Mutiny: Discipline and Indiscipline in the Armies of Philip and Alexander.” CPh 91.1: 19–44. Carney, E. D. and Ogden, D. (eds) (2010) Philip II and Alexander the Great: Father and Son, Lives and Afterlives. Oxford. Carter, J. P. and Morris, S. P. (eds) (1995) The Ages of Homer: A Tribute to Emily Townsend Vermeule. Austin, TX. Cartledge, P. and Spawforth, A. (eds) (1989) Hellenistic and Roman Sparta: A Tale of Two Cities. London. Cawkwell, G. L. (1969) “The Crowning of Demosthenes.” CQ 19: 163–80. Christesen, P. and Murray, S. C. (2010) “Macedonian Religion,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 428–45. Classen, C. J. (1959) “The Libyan God Ammon in Greece before 331 BC.” Historia 8.3: 349–55. Cohen, A. (1995) “Alexander and Achilles: Macedonians and ‘Mycenaeans’,” in Carter and Morris (1995) 483–505. Collins, A. (2014) “Alexander’s Visit to Siwah.” Phoenix 68.1/2: 62–77. Dąbrowa, E. and Sprawski, S. (eds) (2004) Titulus: Studies in Memory Dr. Stanisław Kalita. Kraków. Daryaee, T. and Rollinger, R. (eds) (2021) Iran and its Histories. From the Beginnings through the Achaemenid Empire: Proceedings of the First and Second Payravi Lectures on Ancient Iranian History, UC Irvine, March 23rd, 2018, & March 11th–12th, 2019. Classica et Orientalia 29. Wiesbaden. Degen, J. (2021) “Alexander III, the Achaemenids, and the Quest for Dionysos: Framing and Claiming Universal Rulership in the Macedonian World Empire,” in Daryaee and Rollinger (2021) 239–87.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

423

Devine, A. “Alexander’s Propaganda Machine: Callisthenes as the Ultimate Source for Arrian, Anabasis 1–3,” in Worthington (1994) 89–102. Djurslev, C. T. (2021) “Heracles, Macedon, and Alexander the Great,” in Ogden (2021) 432–46. Doroszewski, F. and Karłowicz, D. (eds) (2021) Dionysus and Politics: Constructing Authority in the Graeco-Roman World. London. Edmunds, L. (1971) “The Religiosity of Alexander.” GRBS 12.3: 363–91. Errington, M. (1976) “Alexander in the Hellenistic World,” in Badian (1976) 137–79. Faraguna, M. (2003) “Alexander and the Greeks,” in Roisman (2003) 99–130. Flower, M. A. (2000) “Alexander the Great and Panhellenism,” in Bosworth and Baynham (2000) 96–135. Fontenrose, J. (1978) The Delphic Oracle: Its Reponses and Operations. Berkeley. Fredricksmeyer, E. (1966) “The Ancestral Rites of Alexander the Great.” CPh 61.3: 179–82. Fredricksmeyer, E. (1991) “Alexander, Zeus Ammon, and the Conquest of Asia.” TAPA 121: 199–214. Fredricksmeyer, E. (1997) “The Origin of Alexander’s Royal Insignia.” TAPA 127: 97–109. Fredricksmeyer, E. (2003) “Alexander’s Religion and Divinity,” in Roisman (2003) 253–78. Goukowsky, P. (1981) Essai sur les origines du mythe d’Alexandre (336–270 B.C.), II: Alexandre et Dionysos. Nancy. Green, P. (1974) Alexander of Macedon, 356–323 B.C.: A Historical Biography. Berkeley. Greenwalt, W. (1994) “A Solar Dionysus and Argead Legitimacy.” AncW 25: 3–8. Griffith, G. T. (1968) “The Letter of Darius at Arrian 2.14.” PCPhS 14: 33–48. Gruen, E. (ed) (2005) Cultural Borrowings and Ethnic Appropriations in Antiquity. Oriens et Occidens 8. Stuttgart. Hall, E. (1989) Inventing the Barbarian. Oxford. Hamilton, J. R. (1987) “Alexander’s Iranian Policy,” in Will and Heinrichs (1987) 467–86. Hammond, N. G. L. (1980) Alexander the Great: King, Commander and Statesman. Bristol. Hammond, N. G. L. (1998) “The Branchidae at Didyma and in Sogdiana.” CQ 48.2: 339–44. Harrison, T. (2004) “Mastering the Landscape,” in Dąbrowa and Sprawski (2004) 27–33. Heckel, W. (2007) The Conquests of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Heckel, W. (2015) “Alexander, Achilles, and Heracles: Between Myth and History,” in Wheatley and Baynham (2015) 21–33. Heckel, W. (2020) In the Path of Conquest: Resistance to Alexander the Great. Oxford. Heckel, W. and McLeod, J. L. (2015) “Alexander the Great and the Fate of the Enemy: Quantifying, Qualifying, and Categorizing Atrocities,” in Heckel et al. (2015) 233–67. Heckel, W. and Tritle, L. (eds) (2003) Crossroads of History: The Age of Alexander. Claremont, CA.

424

Finn

Heckel, W. and Tritle, L. (eds) (2009) Alexander the Great: A New History. Oxford. Heckel, W., Müller, S., and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2015) The Many Faces of War in the Ancient World. Newcastle upon Tyne. Heckel, W., Naiden, F. S., Garvin, E. E., and Vanderspoel, J. (eds) (2021) A Companion to Greek Warfare. Hoboken, NJ. Henkelman, W. and Kuhrt, A. (eds) (2005) Achaemenid History XII: A Persian Perspective. Essays in memory of Heleen Sancisi-Weerdenburg. Leiden. Hölscher, T. (2020) “From Early on to Become a Hero (‘Held’): Mythical Models on Alexander’s Image and Biography,” in Trampedach and Meeus (2020b) 21–44. Hornblower, S. and Biffis, G. (2018) The Returning Hero: nostoi and Traditions of Mediterranean Settlement. Oxford. Howe, T., Garvin, E. E., and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2015) Greece, Macedon, and Persia: Studies in Social, Political, and Military History in Honour of Waldemar Heckel. Oxford. Howe, T., Müller, S., and Stoneman, R. (eds) (2017) Ancient Historiography on War and Empire. Oxford. Howe, T. and Reames, J. (eds) (2008) Macedonian Legacies: Papers on Macedonian Culture and History in Honor of Eugene N. Borza. Claremont, CA. Howe T. and Müller, S. (2012) “Mission Accomplished: Alexander at the Hyphasis.” AHB 26: 21–38. Howe, T. (2013) “The Diadochi, Invented Tradition, and Alexander’s Expedition to Siwah,” in Alonso Troncoso and Anson (2013) 57–70. Jacobs, B. and Rollinger, R. (eds) (2021) A Companion to the Achaemenid Persian Empire. Hoboken. Jamzadeh, P. (2012) Alexander History and Iranian Reflections: Remnants of Propaganda and Resistance. Leiden. Jursa, M. (2020) “Wooing the Victor with Words: Babylonian Priestly Literature as Response to the Macedonian Conquest,” in Trampedach and Meeus (2020b) 165–77. Kholod, M. M. (2011) “Persian Political Propaganda in the War against Alexander the Great.” IA 46: 149–60. Kienast, D. (1987) “Alexander, Zeus und Ammon,” in Will and Heinrichs (1987) 309–33. Koulakiotis, E. (2017) “Plutarch’s Alexander, Dionysus, and the Metaphysics of Power,” in Howe et al. (2017) 226–49. Kousoulis, P. and Magliveras, K. (eds) (2008) Moving Across Borders: Foreign Relations, Religion and Cultural Interactions in the Ancient Mediterranean. Leuven. Kremmydas, C. (2013) “Alexander the Great, Athens, and the Rhetoric of the Persian Wars.” BICS Supplement 124: 199–211. Kuhrt, A. and Sherwin-White, S. (1987) “Xerxes’ Destruction of Babylonian Temples,” in Sancisi-Weerdenburg and Kuhrt (1987) 69–78.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

425

Kuhrt, A. (1990a) “Alexander and Babylon,” in Sancisi-Weerdenburg and Drijvers (1990) 121–30. Kuhrt, A. (1990b) “Nabonidus and the Babylonian Priesthood,” in Beard and North (1990) 119–55. Lane Fox, R. (2007) “Alexander the Great: ‘Last of the Achaemenids?’” in Tuplin (2007) 267–311. Lane Fox, R. (2016) “Alexander and Babylon: A Substitute King?” in Nawotka and Wojciechowska (2016) 103–16. Lane Fox, R. (2018) “Macedonians and nostoi,” in Hornblower and Biffis (2018) 193–212. Langer, P. (1981) “Alexander the Great at Siwah.” AncW 4: 109–27. Larsen, J. A. O. (1932) “Alexander at the Oracle of Ammon.” CP 27.1: 70–75. Maitland, J. (2015) “μῆνιν ἄειδε θεὰ: Alexander the Great and the Anger of Achilles,” in Wheatley and Baynham (2015) 1–20. Malkin, I. (2005) “Herakles and Melqart: Greeks and Phoenicians in the Middle Ground,” in Gruen (2005) 238–57. McQueen, E. I. (1978) “Some Notes on the Anti-Macedonian Movement in the Pelo­ ponnese in 331 B.C.” Historia 27.1: 40–64. Meier, S. A. (2008) “Granting God a Passport,” in Kousoulis and Magliveras (2008) 185–208. Mendoza, M. and Antela-Bernárdez, B. (eds) (2022) The Impact of Alexander’s Conquest: Subjects, Conquered, and Chroniclers. Alcalá de Henares. Morrison, G. (2001) “Alexander, Combat Psychology, and Persepolis.” Antichthon 35: 30–44. Moore, K. R. (2018a) “Framing the Debate,” in Moore (2018b) 3–40. Moore, K. R. (ed) (2018b) Brill’s Companion to the Reception of Alexander the Great. Leiden. Mousavi, A. (2002) “Persepolis in Retrospect: Histories of Discovery and Archaeological Exploration at the Ruins of Ancient Parseh.” Ars Orientalis 32: 209–51. Müller, S. (2021) “War and Propaganda,” in Heckel et al. (2021) 406–15. Müller, S. (2016) “Kambyses II., Alexander und Siwa: die ökonomisch-geopolitische Dimension,” in Binder et al. (2016) 223–45. Munn, M. (2008) “Alexander, the Gordian Knot, and the Kingship of Midas,” in Howe and Reames (2008) 107–43. Nagle, D. B. (1996) “The Cultural Context of Alexander’s Speech at Opis.” TAPhA 126: 151–72. Natoli, A. F. (2004) The Letter of Speusippus to Philip II: Introduction, Text, Translation, and Commentary. Stuttgart. Nawotka, K. (2010) Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Nawotka, K., Rollinger, R., Wiesehöfer, J., and Wojciechowska, A. (eds) (2018) The Historiography of Alexander the Great. Wiesbaden.

426

Finn

Nawotka, K. and Wojciechowska, A. (eds) (2016) Alexander the Great and the East: History, Art, Tradition. Wiesbaden. O’Brien, J. M. (1994) Alexander the Great: The Invisible Enemy: A Biography. New York. Ogden, D. (ed) (2021) The Oxford Handbook of Heracles. Oxford. Ogden, D. (2014) “Alexander and Africa (332–331 BC and beyond): The Facts, the Traditions, and the Problems,” in Bosman (2014) 1–37. Olbrycht, M. J. (2015) “The Epigonoi: The Iranian Phalanx of Alexander the Great,” in Howe et al. (2015) 196–212. Olbrycht, M. J. (2016) “Alexander the Great at Susa: (324 B.C.),” in Bearzot and Landucci Gattinoni (2016) 61–72. Olyan, S. M. (ed) (2016) Ritual Violence in the Hebrew Bible: New Perspectives. Oxford. Parke, H. W. (1956) The Delphic Oracle, vol I: The History and vol II: The Responses. Oxford. Parke, H. W. (1985) “The Massacre of the Branchidae.” JHS 105: 59–68. Pinches, T. G. (1955) Late Babylonian Astronomical and Related Texts. Providence, RI. Poddighe, E. (2009) “Alexander and the Greeks: The Corinthian League,” in Heckel and Tritle (2009) 99–120. Powell, A. (ed) (2013) Hindsight in Greek and Roman History. Swansea. Pownall, F. (2021) “Ptolemaic Propaganda in Alexander’s Visit to Ammon,” in Walsh and Baynham (2021) 33–53. Prabha Ray, H. and Potts, D. T. (eds) (2007) Memory as History: The Legacy of Alexander in Asia. New Delhi. Rathmann, M. (2016) Diodor und seine Bibliotheke: Weltgeschichte aus der Provinz. Berlin. Roisman, J. (ed) (2003) Brill’s Companion to Alexander the Great. Leiden. Roisman, J. and Worthington, I. (eds) (2010) A Companion to Ancient Macedonia. Malden, MA. Roller, L. (1984) “Midas and the Gordian Knot.” ClAnt 3.2: 256–71. Rollinger, R. (2016) “Megasthenes, Mental Maps, and Seleucid Royal Ideology: The Western Fringes of the World or How Ancient Near Eastern Empires Conceptualized World Dominion,” in Wiesehöfer et al. (2016) 129–64. Rubinsohn, W. G. (1997) “Macedon and Greece: The Case of Thebes.” JAC 12: 99–123. Rzepka, J. (2009) “Conspirators—Companions—Bodyguards: A Note on the So-Called Mercenaries’ Source and the Conspiracy of Bessus (Curt. 5.8.1–11).” AHB 23: 19–31. Sachs, A. (2016) “Achaemenid Royal Names in Babylonian Astronomical Texts.” AJAH 2.2 (1977 reprint): 129–47. Sancisi-Weerdenburg, H. and Kuhrt, A. (eds) (1987) Achaemenid History II: The Greek Sources. Leiden. Sancisi-Weerdenburg, H. and Drijvers, J. W. (eds) (1990) Achaemenid History V: The Roots of the European Tradition. Leiden.

Military Propaganda in the Campaigns of Alexander the Great

427

Sancisi-Weerdenburg, H., Kuhrt, A., and Root, M. C. (eds) (1994) Achaemenid History VIII: Continuity and Change. Proceedings of the Last Achaemenid History Workshop, April 6–8, 1990, Ann Arbor, Michigan. Leiden. Schubert, C., Brodersen, K., and Huttner, U. (eds) (1995) Rom und der griechische Osten. Festschrift für Hatto H. Schmitt zum 65. Geburtstag. Stuttgart. Seager, R. (1981) “The Freedom of the Greeks of Asia: From Alexander the Antiochus.” CQ 31.1: 106–12. Seibert, J. (1972) Alexander der Große. Darmstadt. Seibert, J. (1998) “‘Panhellenischer’ Kreuzzug, Nationalkrieg, Rachefeldzug oder makedonischer Eroberungskrieg?—Überlegungen zu den Ursachen des Krieges gegen Persien,” in Will (1998) 5–58. Snyder, J. W. (1996) Alexander the Great. New York. Squillace, G. (2004a) Basileis o Tyrannoi. Filippo II e Alessandro Magno tra opposizione e consenso. Soveria Mannelli. Squillace, G. (2004b) “Propaganda macedone e spedizione asiatica: Gli oikeioi logoi di Alessandro Magno alle truppe.” LEC 72.1: 217–34. Squillace, G. (2009) “La voce del vinto? La lettera di Dario III ad Alessandro Magno a Marato nel 332 a.C.: Nota a Diodoro XVII 39, 1–2.” MediterrAnt 9.1: 1–11. Squillace, G. (2010) “Consensus Strategies under Philip and Alexander: The Revenge Theme,” in Carney and Ogden (2010) 69–80. Squillace, G. (2015) “The Comparison between Alexander and Philip: Use and Meta­ morphosis of an Ideological Theme,” in Howe et al. (2015) 107–13. Squillace, G. (2018) “The Subtle and Red Line between Reality and Fiction: Alexander and his ‘Propaganda Machine,’” in Nawotka et al. (2018) 149–56. Squillace, G. (2022) “Le promesse del vincitore: Vendetta e libertà nella spedizione asiatica di Filippo II e Alessandro Magno.” Erga-Logoi 10.1: 147–70. Steinbock, B. (2013) Social Memory in Athenian Public Discourse: Uses and Meanings of the Past. Ann Arbor, MI. Stewart, A. (1993) Faces of Power: Alexander’s Image and Hellenistic Politics. Berkeley. Stoneman, R. (2019) The Greek Experience of India. Princeton. Stoneman, R. (2021) “Alexander and Dionsyus,” in Doroszewski and Karłowicz (2021) 46–59. Symeonoglou, S. (2014) The Topography of Thebes from the Bronze Age to Modern Times. Princeton. Tarn, W. W. (1948) Alexander the Great. Vol. 2, Sources and Studies. Cambridge. Tarn, W. W. (1922) “The Massacre of the Branchidae.” CR 36.3–4: 63–66. Thonemann, P. (2015) The Hellenistic World: Using Coins as Sources. Cambridge. Tóth, I. (2007) “Apologia Alexandrou (Arrian: Anabasis 1. 7–9).” Acta Antiqua 47.4: 397–410.

428

Finn

Trampedach, K. and Meeus, A. (2020a) “Introduction: Understanding Alexander’s Relations with his Subjects,” in Trampedach and Meeus (2020b) 9–20. Trampedach, K. and Meeus, A. (eds) (2020b) Legitimation and Conquest: Monarchical Representation and the Art of Government in the Empire of Alexander the Great. Stuttgart. Tuplin, C. (ed) (2007) Persian Responses: Political and Cultural Interaction with(in) the Achaemenid Empire. Swansea. Ulanowaski, K. (ed) (2016) The Religious Aspects of War in the Ancient Near East, Greece, and Rome. Leiden. van der Spek, R. J. (2003) “Darius III, Alexander the Great and Babylonian Scholarship,” in Sancisi-Weerdenburg et al. (1994) 289–346. Vogel-Weidemann, U. and Scholtemeijer, J. (eds) (2003) Charistion: Festschrift C.P.T. Naude. Pretoria. Walsh, J. and Baynham, E. (eds) (2021) Alexander the Great and Propaganda. London. Wheatley, P. and Dunn, C. (2021) “Coinage as Propaganda: Alexander and his Successors,” in Walsh and Baynham (2021) 162–98. Wheatley, P. and Baynham, E. (eds) (2015) East and West in the World Empire of Alexander: Essays in Honour of Brian Bosworth. Oxford. Wiesehöfer, J., Brinkhaus, H, and Bichler, R. (eds) (2016) Megasthenes und seine Zeit. Wiesebaden. Will, W. (ed) (1998) Alexander der Große. Eine Welteroberung und ihr Hintergrund. Antiquitas, Abhandlungen zur Alten Geschichte Bd. 46. Bonn. Will, W. and Heinrichs, J. (eds) (1987) Zu Alexander dem Groß. Festschrift G. Wirth zum 60. Geburtstag am 9.12.86. Amsterdam. Worthington, I. (ed) (1994) Ventures into Greek History. Oxford. Worthington, I. (2003) “Alexander’s Destruction of the Thebes,” in Heckel and Tritle (2003) 65–86. Worthington, I. (2014) Alexander the Great: Man and God. New York. Wright, J. L. (2016) “Urbicide: The Ritualized Killing of Cities in the Ancient Near East,” in Olyan (2016) 147–65. Yates, D. C. (2019) States of Memory: The Polis, Panhellenism, and the Persian War. Oxford. Zahrnt, M. (2001) “Alexander in Gordion und die Entstehung einer Legende,” in Böhm and von Eickstedt (2001) 203–206. Zahrnt, M. (2016) “Alexander in kleinasien und die feldzugbegleitende propaganda.” Hermes 144: 18–42. Zahrnt, M. (2021) “Macedonia,” in Jacobs and Rollinger (2021) 639–48.

Chapter 17

Philip’s and Alexander’s Use of Religious Cult in Our Extant Sources Jeanne Reames We have all heard the axiom, “There are no atheists in a foxhole.” Inclusion of religious specialists as part of warfare dates to the dawn of our species, and probably earlier.1 Yet today in the West, the locus of religious activity has privatized—at least officially.2 As a result, traditional military history has tended to overlook the religious sensibilities of commanders and soldiers, “too much religion” seen as unfortunate. This assessment is not just modern. Curtius critiques Alexander’s reliance on omens, calling them “the ridicule of human minds” (7.7.8).3 Yet he does not critique Alexander’s other religious actions such as sacrifices and dedications.4 Superstition was regularly divided from sincere religious belief, the question being where piety ended and delusion began, with divination often a sticking point.5 In any case, Classical Greek military views regarded the proper behavior of armies as dependent on the piety of their commanders (Xen. Hell. 3.2.7).6 1 Barbara J. King (2017), especially, has written about religiosity and our evolutionary ancestors. 2 Unofficially, some religious beliefs are more welcome than others. And of course, places in the wider world can still name religion as a major driving force behind military action. Privatization of religion in Western military operations has been gradual. When drafted into the US army in May 1943, as part of the process, my father was given a little black Gideons’ Red-Letter New Testament. But when my brother enlisted in the navy in 1967, he was offered nothing of the kind, although he could have requested it. This illustrates changing assumptions in just twenty-four years. The Gideons continued to enjoy special access to US military recruits until a letter from the ACLU in 2007 required equal access for all: https://www.aclu.org/other/meps-policy-allowing-equal-access-facilities?redirect=cpredir ect/38129. 3 …[rursus] ad superstitionem, humanarum mentium ludibrium … 4 Plutarch also presents Alexander as initially rising above barbaric (Macedonian) superstition, then descending back into barbaric (oriental) superstition as he Persianized, e.g., Alex. 75.1. See Asirvatham (2001). 5 Numerous ancient authors tackle the question of superstition both in broader works as well as in shorter specific essays, among the more famous being Theophrastus, Plutarch, Cicero, and Lucian. See Bonnechere’s discussion (2010) 145–46. 6 Nevin (2017) in general, but esp. Part III; Ulanowski (2021) 199–202. Asirvatham says that Plutarch, in his Life of Alexander, makes “no implication  … that Alexander is responsible

© Jeanne Reames, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_019

430

Reames

The current shift in academia towards multidisciplinary war studies allows examination not only of the strategic, tactical, and organizational, but also the ethical, political, psychological, and cultural sides of warfare. This gives religion a seat at the table, a trend manifested in several important recent contributions to ancient military history.7 Ergo, consideration of religious rites and symbols in the extant histories of Philip and Alexander must be part of any discussion of their campaigns. Far from occluding religious activity, these historians weave it into the fabric of their narratives and the most militarily comprehensive account—Arrian’s—is also the richest with religious minutiae and detail. 1

Defining Religion and Other Methodological Matters

What herein constitutes “religion” is deliberately broad. I include not only formal religious cult and divination, but also spontaneous prayers, claims of divine favor or assistance, and even events perceived as omens by the soldiers, whether or not interpreted by a seer.8 In short, if it involves the numinous in some way, I include it. My chosen limitations, to avoid a monograph-length chapter, entail the sources examined, using only the five extant narrative historians: Arrian, Curtius, Diodorus, Plutarch, and Justin.9 for his soldiers’ actions” (2018) 366. Given her argument, this may owe to his theoretical construct, setting Alexander as properly Hellenic against the barbarism of his Macedonians (358–66). It is ironic then that Plutarch’s literary classicism sets him at odds with the views of Classical-era military authors themselves. 7 E.g., Krzysztof Ulanowski’s edited collection, The Religious Aspects of War in the Ancient Near East, Greece, and Rome (2016a), his own Neo-Assyrian and Greek Divination in War (2020), and Sonya Nevin’s Military Leaders and Sacred Space in Greek Warfare (2017), are three book-length treatments; articles are far more numerous, although typically focus on specific aspects, conflicts, or leaders. For Alexander, divination has been of especial interest, e.g., King (2013); Koulakiotis (2013); Ulanowski (2016a); Bowden (2017); Müller (2018); Trampedach (2020). Despite some problematic reviews, Naiden (2019) also belongs to this trend. 8 Iles Johnston (2008, 115) points to Xenophon’s contention that a good commander knew how to read entrails himself (An. 5.6.29, Cyr. 1.6.2), adding, “This exemplifies an essential characteristic of Greek religion in general—namely that most practices could be carried out by most people, even if some were better at them than others.” We read of Alexander interpreting omens and dreams on several occasions. 9 While Demosthenes presents an important, and contemporary, source on Philip, I chose to exclude his writings as political polemic, not narrative history. I do reference a few things not in the five, such as the Philippeion described by Pausanias (5.20.9–10), commissioned after Philip’s victory at Chaironeia. Some additional ancient references appear in table footnotes, but I did not attempt to include the bulk of epigraphic or archaeological attestations.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult

431

At the chapter’s end, a series of tables organize, in synoptic fashion, religious references in broad categories: sacrifices, games, parades, and dedications (gifts to the gods); omens, dreams, and oracles (messages from the gods); and “other,” including funerals, treatment of consecrated ground, and even general mention of divine favor. Given the constraints of space and my focus on narratives, I do not attempt (much) to determine the veracity of various accounts. I am more interested in how our historians used them, than whether they occurred, or occurred in the manner described. If the tables are comprehensive, in my discussion, I focus on campaign-related episodes. One could argue that any event taking place on a military campaign is, by definition, campaign related. Yet I categorize some as non-military.10 These appear in italics in the tables. Being complete allows readers to draw their own lines that may be more or less inclusive. I made the executive decision to sideline examination of Alexander’s divine aspirations because these have been well-discussed elsewhere.11 Nor do I address what lay behind Philip’s decision to include a statue of himself among the Olympians in his final, fateful parade, or any sacral pretensions the Philippeion may have suggested.12 Similarly, general mention of putative Argead Heraklid descent or Molossian Aiakid are italicized except when it results in military choices (e.g., the assault on the Aornos Rock). Like discussion of what Alexander believed about his divinity, his emulation of various heroes and gods has been elsewhere considered, so I do not plan to retread that.13 It is, however, worth noting that references to Herakles in the Alexander historians occur at nearly twice the rate of 10 So, for instance, Hephaistion’s death and funeral are italicized. While his demise certainly had politico-military impact, he died of disease, not in combat. Kleitos’ death, however, I included. Although killed by Alexander at a symposion, it affected how Alexander’s officers subsequently interacted with him. These examples give some idea of my reasoning. 11 Starting with Hogarth (1887); then Balsdon (1950); Edmunds (1971); Bosworth (1977), (1988a) section D, 278–90, (1996b); Fredricksmeyer (1979b, 1991, 2003); Badian (1981) (superseding an earlier published lecture); Cawkwell (1994); Asirvatham (2001); Collins (2012). In the tables, I did leave unitalicized soldier mockery of Alexander’s purported divine sonship when it affected campaign decisions, such as at the Hyphasis River or in Opis. 12 For Philippeion discussion, see Schleif and Zschietzschmann (1944); Miller (1973); Huwendiek (1997); Townsend (2001); Schultz (2009); and von den Hoff (2020) 100–108. 13 Recently, Maitland (2015); Heckel (2015), in the same volume, also Moloney (2015); Pederson (2015), all in the same year; slightly later, Bowden (2018); Prandi (2018) 179, 184; Hölscher (2020). Heckel (2015) argues only emulation of Herakles was genuine, following what we see in iconography. Yet Hölscher (2020), less skeptical, counters that imitation of Achilles should not be ruled out as purely a logos. Liotsakis’ (2019, esp. 163–225) dissection of Arrian’s Homeric aidos, even to language choice, suggests framing—“a mild incorporation” (225)—more than wholesale imposition and invention. One difficulty

432

Reames

any other mythical figure, except in Plutarch, who mentions Herakles slightly less than Achilles or Dionysos.14 After Herakles, Dionysos and Zeus appear most frequently, then Ammon, Athena, Apollo, Achilles, and Askeplios; others are situation specific. For Philip, it would be Apollo, Zeus, and Herakles. Prior analyses of Philip, Alexander, and religion have tended to focus on particular activities (divination, dreams, oracles, dedications), or broad questions such as the divine aspirations of either man. I am interested here in patterns, what each of the historians emphasize, or do not emphasize, and the contrasts between them, as well.15 My method for cataloguing rendered it visually quite apparent how unique each of our sources is, even those who share sources themselves. For instance, for Curtius, I had to create a category none of the rest needed: references to divine help or protection unrelated to specific religious activity. Similarly, Diodorus does not mention sacrificial omens, although, proportionally, he discusses omens not involving sacrifice quite often. This sort of observation would be harder to make if focused solely on categories of religious activity rather than on how the sources organize them. Bowden also recognized this,16 but Trampedach critiqued his approach.17 with deconstructions lies in deciding how much in any given source is pure invention versus later literary exaggeration. Shades exist in between. 14 In Plutarch, Herakles is referenced only twice in relation to Alexander, Achilles three times and Dionysos three. Justin, although shorter, references Herakles four times, Achilles two, and Dionysos only once. Diodorus mentions Herakles six times, Achilles three, and Dionysos two. Predictably, Curtius and Arrian have more. Curtius references Herakles nine times, Achilles once, and Dionysos seven, but Curtius is missing the first two chapters, which would have included the Troy visit, and has a large lacuna including the death of Hephaistion, both of which would likely have involved references to Achilles, and probably more of Herakles as well. Arrian shows the same disproportion: Herakles has twelve mentions, Achilles four, and Dionysos seven. 15 More extensive, in-the-weeds examinations of specific activity types can be found via the bibliography. 16 Bowden (2017, 151) cites Raphals (2013) 179, and points out we cannot take accounts of divination at face value. 17 Trampedach (2020) 45, “Recently Hugh Bowden, in consciously limiting himself to historiography, adopts what appears to me to be a minimalist approach. According to Bowden, ‘Arrian’s generally positive representation of divination is in keeping with references to divination in the work of his Stoic teacher Epictetus.’ Bowden concludes, ‘We should therefore see the depiction of divination and diviners in the Anabasis as being deliberately created by Arrian, rather than merely reflecting what he found in the sources he used.’ Does this mean that Arrian invented the episodes he is narrating? This is impossible, since in most cases they are also known from other, earlier sources. Or should we conclude that Arrian selected stories that appealed to him and presented them in a certain way (which would be a trifling conclusion)?” citing Bowden (2017) 156. Trampedach

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult

433

In looking at my five big sheets of citations, I remain intrigued by what each chose to include and exclude. It is not, I think, a trifling line of inquiry, nor too self-evident to bother logging, even if I sometimes have more questions than answers. 2

The Stories within the Sources: Philip

Only two of the five selected sources also address Philip in narrative fashion, but Plutarch includes a few anecdotes from Alexander’s youth.18 The sole event mentioned by both Diodorus and Justin—victory sacrifices after Chaironeia—is emblematic of their differences: Diodorus says he performed them (16.86.6), while Justin says he did not as part of his intention to conquer without appearing to do so (Epit. 9.4.1). Yet for both authors, Philip’s participation in the Sacred War is his most defining religious action.19 Justin’s account originally seems to praise him, albeit note the wording: Philip posed “as if” (quasi) a defender of sacrilege (Epit. 8.2.3–7), juxtaposed with Athens, who supported the impious Phokians (8.2.8–12). Yet in the very next chapter, Philip’s true colors are revealed: he is no less impious than the Athenians or Phokians he opposes (8.3.2–5).20 The vague accusations that follow illustrate Philip’s own corruption. He treats as enemies the very states he had just led, pillaging and destroying temples, shrines, and sacred images: “less avenger of sacrilege that seeker of license to commit it.”21 A little later, although the Phokians surrender to him, Philip destroys them anyway: “no children are left to parents, nor wives to husbands, nor divine images to their temples.”22 These are rhetorical flourishes, not recounting of actual acts of asebia. Philip is a terrible human being, his religious disrespect just the cherry on top. says Bowden’s approach excludes the question of interest to him: “what kind of divination did Alexander perform?” (to legitimize his campaign). 18 Plutarch’s record of Philip’s dreams regarding Alexander’s birth are included in the tables, as well as his semi-prophetic declaration “Macedonia is too small for you,” concluding the Boukephalas story. All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated. 19 Multiple discussions exist of the Third Sacred War, but Pownall (1998) considers specifically the “sacred” part. 20 His coat turn is delightfully translated by John Yardley (1994, 82) as, “Apparently frightened of being outdone by his enemies in sacrilegious crime …,” 8.3.2. 21 … prorsus ut non tam sacrilegii ultor extitisse quam sacrilegiorum licentiam quaesisse videretur, Just. Epit. 8.3.5. 22 … non liberi parentibus, non coniuges maritis, non deorum simulacra templis suis reliquuntur, Just. Epit. 8.5.5.

434

Reames

A bit later, Justin repeats Philip’s willingness to employ religious pretense to further his war ambitions, saying he used a vow to erect a statue of Herakles at the mouth of the Ister as his excuse to enter Scythia. Skeptical, King Altheas offered to set up the statue for Philip, but refused passage to the Macedonian army. “Bruised feelings” gave Philip license to attack.23 This portrait stands in stark contrast to Diodorus’, who repeatedly underscores Philip’s piety towards Delphi. It can be tempting to cast Philip’s actions as Realpolitik, using the Sacred Wars to enter Southern politics and earn a seat on the Amphictyonic League. Yet the tendency to assume true piety does not seek public recognition is modern and Christianized.24 In both Greek and Macedonian worldviews, political ambition could happily cohabitate with genuine religious feeling. Diodorus’ reflections on Philip’s motives—unlike Justin’s—do not intimate he was faking,25 with one possible exception. When, due to the war’s extended nature, Boeotia needed more manpower and approached Philip for assistance, they received a less-than-enthusiastic response. Diodorus says Philip was pleased by their military predicament and wanted to see them taken down a notch after Leuktra, but sent a few troops anyway, lest he be thought indifferent to offenses against Delphi (16.58.3). This might suggest his actions were only for show, but again, we must beware undue modern readings. The incident could also be read as Philip going against his political preferences because of piety. Diodorus does not record the Scythian conflict, ending with Philip breaking off the sieges of Perinthos and Byzantium,26 so the tale of the statue ruse appears only in Justin. As Philip had reason enough to attack Altheas for reneging on an alliance and failure to pay even transport costs, he scarcely needed a religious excuse.27 23 Just. Epit. 9.2 for the entire episode including precursors. One is reminded of Alexander’s desire to sacrifice to Herakles as a reason to enter Tyre: Arr. Anab. 2.15.7, 2.16.7; Curt. 4.2.2–4. 24 Jesus’ rebuke in Matt. 6:1–8, particularly verse 3—don’t let the left hand know what the right is doing (in the giving of alms)—and 6, to go into a room and shut the door and pray in secret, to be truly rewarded. He contrasts this ideal prayer with that of hypocrites (5) and gentiles (7). Jesus’ preaching was startling, even offensive, for a reason, being at odds with the expectations of larger Mediterranean society. 25 For instance: Diod. Sic. 16.38.2, 16.60.4, 16.64.3. 26 Diod. Sic. 16.74–77.2. In 16.1.5, Scythians are named among the peoples Philip subdued, but with no detail. Aesch. 3.128 also alludes to Philip’s Scythian campaign. 27 Just. Epit. 9.2.10–1. Another incident, found in Polyaenus, Strat. 4.2.5, placed in Illyria, date uncertain, relates that Philip used a truce to collect his dead—a religious duty—only to spring a new, unexpected attack. Yet the text says he did, in fact, collect his dead,

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult

435

Neither Diodorus nor Justin says Philip brought seers on campaign, but we may assume he did. Trampedach points out, “An ancient army without specialists in divination … seems inconceivable.”28 Diodorus displays little interest in extispicy (entrail reading) although he is keen on omens otherwise.29 Justin is so abbreviated, he talks about religious actions little. As both Arrian and Curtius refer to Alexander’s customary sacrifices (patrios nomos), we may be sure Philip made these as well. Philip’s authentic religious feelings are difficult to excavate, but we must avoid assuming he had none. Of more interest is how Diodorus, in contrast to Justin, positions him as avenger of gods and sanctuaries, both for his involvement in the Third Sacred War, and also his projected campaign against Persia (16.89.1–2). Philip played out this role on a Panhellenic stage, and at great expense: taking charge of the Pythian Games together with Boeotians and Thessalians (Diod. Sic. 16.60.2); commissioning the Philippeion at Olympia (Paus. 5.20.9–10); and in the final festival held at Aigai where he enthroned himself among the gods, whatever that meant.30 If the latter was not held at a Panhellenic shrine, Philip made it Panhellenic by way of his guest list (16.91.5–6). Of the Philippeion, von den Hoff says, “The most splendid and magnificent object … has always been the most appropriate dedication to a god, in order to demonstrate the eusebeia of the dedicant … the donor of such a monument could claim highest piety as his quality.”31 So Diodorus crafts quite a different picture than Justin, and these are distinct yet again from the one either author paints of Alexander.

launching the attack only as the last bodies were removed. This would allow him to argue he did not break the truce. Nonetheless, it shows the same use of a religious cover for military operations. 28 Trampedach (2020) 48, also ft. 14; Burkert (1985) 111–14; Jameson (1991) 197–228; Parker (2000) 301–305; Flower (2008) 153–87; Iles-Johnson (2008) 107–104; Nevin (2017); and Ulanowski (2021) throughout, esp. chapter 3, and 4, 180–309. If the details of Plutarch’s list of dreams at Alexander’s birth can be trusted, we already find Aristandros serving Philip as early as 356: Alex. 2.5. 29 Discussed at length below, along with his disinterest in sacrifice. He mentions only four instances of Philip sacrificing: 16.4.7 (Bardylis defeat), 16.55.1 (at Dion Olympics), 16.86.6 (Chaironeia victory), and 16.91.4 (for Persian campaign at Kleopatra’s wedding). Diodorus is more interested in the Delphic prophecy, 16.91.2–4. 30 Diod. Sic. 16.92.5; See Fredricksmeyer (1979a), Baynham (1994), and Anson (2020, 163–72) for a discussion of divine honors for Philip. 31 von den Hoff (2020) 107.

436 3

Reames

The Stories within the Sources: Alexander

Just three, arguably four, religious events in Alexander’s career are related by all five historians. First is Philip’s burial and the execution of his killers;32 the putative second, his dedications at Tyre;33 third, the erection of super-sized altars and a camp on the banks of the Hyphasis in India when he turned back;34 and fourth, his sacrifice at the delta of the Indus when he reached Ocean.35 If we had the missing first two chapters of Curtius, almost certainly the sacrifices and dedications accompanying Alexander’s crossing to Asia would have been a fifth,36 and the dedications following his victory at Granikos, a sixth.37 If it is often difficult to find Alexander inside our sources, that our extant histories uniformly report sacrifice and dedications after Granikos suggests Alexander deliberately performed piety for “the folks back home” related to his first victory. But subsequently, he stopped. For instance, after Issos, Curtius (3.12.27) and Diodorus (17.40.1) relate victory sacrifices and altars. Speeches are made, soldiers rewarded (Arr. Anab. 2.12.1), but dedications at Panhellenic shrines similar to those post-Granikos are absent.38 Was Issos unfinished business for Alexander? Did he await a clearer victory? Perhaps. Yet after Granikos, whether for big battles or small, his dedications remain local: what von den Hoff calls a “polycentral strategy.”39 Commonalities noted, it is the differences across sources that intrigue. 32 Arr. Anab. 1.10.5, Curt. 10.5.31, Diod. Sic. 17.2.1, Plut. 27.4, Just. Epit. 11.2.1; only Justin and Diodorus open with it. 33 Arr. Anab. 2.24.6 and 3.6.1; Curt. 4.8.16, Diod. Sic. 17.46.6, Plut. Alex. 29.1–31.4; and Just. Epit. 11.10.10–11. This would count as a uniform mention, except Curtius and Plutarch describe only sacrifices upon returning from Egypt, before moving inland. Arrian gives both sets. 34 Arr. Anab. 5.29.1; Curt. 9.3.19; Diod. Sic. 17.95.1–2; Plut. Alex. 62.4; Just. Epit. 12.8.16. 35 Arr. Anab. 6.19.4–5; Curt. 9.9.27; Diod. Sic. 17.104.1; Plut. Alex. 66.1; Just. Epit. 12.10.4, 6. 36 Arr. Anab. 1.11.5–12.1; Diod. Sic. 17.17.3–18.1; Plut. Alex. 15.4–5; Just. Epit. 11.5.4. 37 Arr. Anab. 1.16.4, 7; Diod. Sic. 17.21.6.4.5; Plut. Alex. 16.8; Just. Epit. 11.6.12–13, but Diodorus lacks specific details. 38 Despite a plethora of stories set after the battle, specifically religious action is elusive, and no dedications are recounted. Arrian (Anab. 3.7.6), Curtius (4.13.15–16, 22), and even Plutarch (Alex. 31.4–5) note sacrifice before Gaugamela. Diodorus skips sacrifices, but says Alexander buried his dead after, 17.64.3. That celebrations are held in Babylon and Susa later, without mention of dedications sent back to Greece, repeats Alexander’s “polycentral” focus. See note below. Yet burning Xerxes’ palace in Persepolis was certainly aimed at the “home crowd,” in addition to whatever message he meant for Persia. See Brosius (2003) for Alexander’s failure to grasp Persian institutions. 39 von den Hoff (2020) 120–21: “In the sacred space, Alexander played the panhellenic card less than his father Philip—if at all. Rather he locally addressed the broad Greek audience in separate regions, that is: in a polycentral strategy.” The same is true outside Greek regions too, as at Tyre.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult

437

If Justin’s account of Alexander is hardly glowing, he never accuses him of impiety, as he did with Philip. Compare his treatment of Alexander’s destruction of Thebes (Epit. 11.3) with Philip’s of Phokis (9.3, 5). We find no desecration of temples, images, or sacred space, only a statement that the city was destroyed and lands divided.40 A curious contrast. Diodorus does not transfer Philip’s mantle as defender of divine sanctuaries to his son. The sole time he portrays Alexander as divine avenger comes with the burning of Persepolis, which he calls retribution for the Persian burning of temples in Athens.41 In fact, Diodorus makes little mention of Alexander and sanctuaries. He relates (17.13.6) that the Thebans were torn from altars during the city’s sacking but, unlike Arrian (1.8.7), does not specify whose troops committed the iniquity. Nor, unlike Arrian (1.9.9) or Plutarch (Alex. 11.6), does he say Alexander spared sacred space during Thebes’ razing. Similarly at Tyre, he makes no mention of suppliants spared, albeit shows indirectly Alexander’s care with temples.42 These oversights may owe to condensing, yet still demonstrate less interest in Alexander and sacred space, in contrast to his treatment of Philip.43 In both Books 16 and 17, Diodorus does not directly mention extispicy.44 When our other sources do, it is significant. Arrian names good omens for Egyptian Alexandria’s founding (3.1.5), and Plutarch describes Aristandros pronouncing positive omens before Gaugamela (Alex. 31.4). Arrian describes good omens to cross the Indus (Arr. Anab. 5.4.6), but bad ones at the Hydaspes (Arr. Anab. 5.28.4), providing Alexander with a pious reason to halt his eastward trek. Bad omens at the Tanais River, ignored by Alexander, result in illness (Arr. Anab. 4.4.3, Curt. 7.7.8–9, 21–29), and likewise, at Mallia, Alexander ignores bad omens to his peril.45 40 Just. Epit. 11.4.7, Itaque urbs diruitur; agri inter uictores diuiduntur. 41 Diod. Sic. 17.72.6. Perhaps adopting a summation from his source, likely Kallisthenes via Kleitarchos. Similar framing might have arisen when Alexander ordered the Branchidai massacred in retribution for delivery of Didyma’s oracle to the Persians during the Persian Wars, but Diodorus contains a lacuna at that point. 42 Diod. Sic. 17.46.3–6. Arrian (Anab. 2.24.5) and Curtius (4.4.13–14) both note that he spared suppliants in temples. 43 However, if we hear of Philip fighting in defense of sacred space, Diodorus does not relate how Philip treated specific sanctuaries during or after combat, similar to his silence with Alexander. 44 The abbreviated Justin does not either. At the temple of Athena, Diodorus (17.17.6–7) calls Aristandros sacrificant, but focuses on the fallen statue of Ariobarzanes outside, which Aristandros interprets along with “some other favorable omens”: kai tinon oionon. 45 Curtius (9.4.26–29) identifies them as extispicy, but Diodorus (17.98.3) says only dia tinon oionon. This echoes 17.17.6 discussed above. While oionos means bird omen, it can also mean omens generally, and is so used by Diodorus elsewhere when clearly, they are not

438

Reames

Extispicy mattered to Alexander. Polyaenus tells us that he would have sacrificial victims carried around to show soldiers the omens (Strat. 4.3.14). So, we may fairly inquire why Diodorus neglects to mention it. Yet as most sacrifice, especially before battle, would have involved examination of entrails,46 Diodorus may simply have passed over it in the same way we would not bother to note we put a key in the ignition when we say we started the car. Contributing to the impression of disinterest, however, we find sacrifice itself sidelined. He has only one more mention of campaign-related sacrifice than the shorter Plutarch, never mind Curtius or Arrian. This is true for both Philip and Alexander, and does not owe only to lacunae. Diodorus does, however, showcase other types of omens to a greater degree, and if we had the missing chapters, that difference would be more notable. Santangelo explains that Diodorus gives divination particular respect throughout his whole Bibliotheke, but does not discuss a preference for type.47 Perhaps Diodorus simply trusted certain omen varieties more.48 Beerden notes that oracles (auditory omens) appear to have been preferred by Greeks.49 Diodorus’ interest in prodigia and auspicia/oionoskopeia—the bulk of what he records—may reflect Roman influence, as these were Roman preferences.50 Oionoskopeia (bird omens) were a common mantic practice,51 and Ulanowski says, “Bird oracles are strictly connected with war. The strength of this kind of mantic lay in the fact that it was a difficult sign to manipulate,”52 citing both Livy (1.36.2–6) and Cicero (Div. 1.17.32). Perhaps, then, we should be unsurprised if Diodorus uses oionos for omens generally. Concern with funeral rites and due burial is another way Diodorus differs. He relates more of them than any other author, with six military funerals,53

46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53

bird omens: 17.36.5, 66.7, 114.5. Curtius’ exchange between Demophon and Alexander is fiction in support of his theme that divination is superstitio. Ergo, we cannot use it to interpret what Diodorus meant by oionos. Flower (2008) 72–73, note especially his citing of Xenophon’s Hipp. 9.8–9, 100–103; Henrichs (2008) 5–6; Iles Johnston (2008) 116–118, 125–128; Trampedach (2008) 228–30; Bonnechere (2010) 152; Nevin (2017) 32–35, 80–110, 116–18; Ulanowski (2021) 104–68. Santangelo (2007). Beerden (2013, 116–17, 122–25) discusses forms, including their popularity with different areas, demographics, and ethnicities, adding, 122: “Not all methods were deemed equally reliable.” Beerden (2013) 123; also Bonnechere (2010) 147–50, on oracles generally. Like the Ancient Near East, Romans preferred visual omens: Beerden (2013) 124. Dillon (1996a) 99–121. Ulanowski (2016a) 77; see also Iles Johnston (2008) 128–130. Thebes: 17.14.1; Granikos: 17.21.6; Issos: 17.40.1; Tyre: 17.46.6; Gaugamela 17.64.3; Hydaspes: 17.89.3.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult

439

and at least three personal.54 Once again, had we the missing chapters on the Baktrian and Sogdian campaigns, we could probably add to that number. Finally, Diodorus recounts three incidents of suppliants spared in India not found in other sources.55 All take place within eight chapters detailing Alexander’s southward passage towards the Indus between Agalasseis and Harmatelia, and their wording is similar: after a devastating attack on their city/region, survivors approach the king with suppliant branches (iketerios), and he spares them. Has Diodorus inserted these accounts, which occur during the bloodiest period of Alexander’s Indian campaign, to redeem the king’s actions by demonstrated piety and clemency towards survivors?56 If Kleitarchos has been widely regarded as the chief source for the so-called vulgate, a more nuanced view has emerged recently,57 and the inclusion of details like these suggests Diodorus did not use Kleitarchos only, or indiscriminately.58 Albeit not considering Books 16 or 17, both Muntz and Sulimani point to Diodorus’ interest in clemency throughout the Bibliotheke, so including these accounts would support that larger theme.59 Turning to Plutarch, he also exhibits a disproportionate interest in nonsacrificial omens, including dreams and oracles, which, given his service as a priest of Delphi, may come as no surprise.60 Asirvatham says that Plutarch ties 54 Philip: 17.2.1; Kalanos: 17.107.1–6; Hephaistion: 17.114.1–115.6; with an extensive description of Hephaistion’s funeral pyre. 55 17.96.5, 17.102.7, 17.103.8. Although the meeting with the Sibi, in 17.96.2 may seem to belong to the same group, they bring gifts (dora), not suppliant branches. The story of the Sibi is also found in Curtius (9.4.2–3) and likely owes to Kleitarchos, but these three suppliant passages are unique. For the problem of Diodorus’ sources, see Sacks (1990), generally; Muntz (2017) 1–26; and Waterfield (2019) 537–42. 56 Bosworth (1996a) 92–97, 142–56. 57 Romm (2010b) 253, 6.16.5a, and Baynham (2003) 10, but Baynham (1998, 74–81) explains the difficulty of assuming Kleitarchos always lies behind their accounts. We know Curtius used Kleitarchos for the massacre of the Brahmans in the revolt of King Sambus/Sammas, as he says so: 9.8.5. This is the same series of events Diodorus’ suppliant passages concern, which are not mentioned by Curtius, suggesting Diodorus did not find these in Kleitarchos. See Maitland (2015) 12 n. 27, and esp. 17–20, for an excellent discussion of sourcing the so-called vulgate. 58 Both Sacks (1990) 3–22, esp. 3–7, and Muntz (2017) 1–26, esp. 14–19, make good cases that Diodorus consciously shaped his narrative and was no mere paraphraser or summarizer. Muntz references Bosworth’s (2003) “Plus ça change… Ancient Historians and Their Sources”: 194–95. See also Hau (2009). 59 Muntz (2017) 11–13 and Sulimani (2011) 82–108. 60 Casanova (2012); also Veyne (1999); Bowden’s discussion (2013) 153–55, especially n. 26, of Plutarch’s interest in divination across his writing; King (2013) 83–84, and generally. Plutarch also authored de Pythiae oraculis, de defectu oraculorum, and de superstitione, all collected in his Moralia.

440

Reames

Alexander’s religiosity to the degree of his Hellenicity.61 Ergo, interest in auditory omens preferred by the Greeks occupy him.62 He reports on several dreams not mentioned by other sources, but over half of these are non-military.63 Two of his six military dreams are had by the enemy: Darius’ anxiety dreams before Issos (Alex. 18.4–5), also mentioned by Curtius (3.3.2–7); and a Tyrian’s dream that Apollo tried to leave Tyre (Alex. 24.4), which Diodorus (17.41.7–8) and Curtius (4.3.21–22) list, Curtius adding an additional dream of the mole becoming a forest. Plutarch also relates Alexander’s dream of Herakles offering him a hand into the city, found in Arrian and Curtius.64 Two of Plutarch’s six unique dreams involve Alexander’s birth, and, considering the other overlap between Curtius and Plutarch, those might have been in Curtius’ missing Book 1. These parallels no doubt reflect similarities in their sources, but Curtius attaches no dreams to the death of Kleitos, although he does attribute the action to the anger of Dionysos.65 Plutarch does not mention Alexander’s dream of a plant to heal the poisoned Ptolemy, found in Curtius, Diodorus, and even Justin.66 Instead, he 61 Asirvatham, (2001) 124–25. Her article looks primarily at Plutarch’s approach to Alexander’s divinity, which I have sidestepped here, nonetheless a reminder of Plutarch’s thematic concerns helps to understand his choices regarding other religious actions. 62 Beerden (2013) 23, 123, on Greek divinatory preferences and categorizing dreams as auditory; oracles were considered more reliable and dreams might be “fact-checked” by oracles, Aesch. PV 655–62. Plutarch is also the only source to record Alexander’s visit the Delphic oracle. While the story is almost certainly apocryphal—Hamilton (1969) 34; Fredricksmeyer (1991) 202 n. 17; O’Sullivan (2015) 36–38—it still reflects Hellenic oracular focus. 63 Olympias dreams of a thunderbolt, Alex. 2.2; Philip dreams of sealing Olympias’ womb with lion, Alex. 2.2–3; Alexander dreams of a satyr at Tyre, Alex. 24.5; of where to found Alexandria, Alex. 26.3; of how to heal Krateros, Alex. 41.3–4; and before Kleitos’ death, he dreams he saw Kleitos sitting with Parmenion, et al., Alex. 50.3. Five of nine total, and of these, only the Tyre and Kleitos dreams are unitalicized in the tables. The birth dreams may also have been repeated by Curtius, if we had his first book. Justin, Epit. 12.16.2, tells the story of Olympias and her snake as a dream, whereas Plutarch says it slept beside her, Alex. 2.4, 3.1. King (2013), with a useful comparison of dreams in Alexander to other military sources such as Xenophon. For numbers, see esp. 88, n. 39, and also Bowden (2013) 154. For discussion of Babylonian omens before Alexander’s death, see Koulakiotis (2013) 127–30. 64 Plut. Alex. 24.3; Arr. Anab. 2.18.1. Curtius (4.2.17) implies shrewd marketing: haudquaquam rudis pertractandi militares animos. In fact, three of the six campaign dreams concern Tyre; the third is his satyr dream. 65 Plut. Alex. 50.1–3; Curt. 8.2.6–7. Diodorus has a lacuna at that point, but given his general interest in omens, he may have related something. 66 Curt. 9.8.25–28; Diod. Sic. 17.103.7–8; Just. Epit. 12.10.3. Rather than Ptolemy, Plutarch’s account of a healing dream involves Alexander and Krateros when the latter was ill: Alex.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult

441

inserts here the debate between Alexander and the brahmans (Alex. 64.1–65.1). The choice reflects Plutarch’s interest in Alexander as philosopher, the same as Alexander’s earlier meetings with Diogenes (Alex. 14.2–3) and the prophet “Psammon” in Egypt (Alex. 27.6). We should contrast Plutarch’s brahman debate with Diodorus’ brahman suppliants. Diodorus says Alexander pardoned all suppliants except the ringleaders (17.102.7), while in Plutarch, the ringleaders are the very ones he debated and released with gifts. Both cannot be true—assuming either is. Rather our authors have selected stories not found in other sources that reflect the themes of each (clemency for Diodorus, philosophy for Plutarch), in order to shape, and soften, narration of Alexander’s brutal Indian campaign. Curtius’ approach to Alexander’s religious actions evinces distinct differences even from the rest of the vulgate. First, he shows distaste for omens, his wording dismissive either explicitly or by implication.67 Indeed, while omens appear in Book 3 and especially 4 and 5—ten in total, thirteen if one counts dreams, and fifteen if one includes oracles68—they disappear altogether in Book 6 to reappear sporadically from Book 7 until the end. Here, we find only four: two from extispicy, both of which Curtius uses to rant about the foolishness of omens,69 and two others that are, arguably, not omens. Oil outside Alexander’s tent in Baktria is presented as propaganda, official readings excluded, unlike Arrian or Plutarch.70 And the soldiers’ conviction that ocean 41.1. It would be tempting to see this as an alteration of the Ptolemy dream, except it involves sacrifices Alexander and Krateros were to make, not snakes and medical plants to be administered. Furthermore, it comes as part of a mashup of examples where Alexander displays personal interest in the well-being of his top officers, either in person or via letter. Plut. Alex. 41.2–42.2; King (2013) 103. Perhaps Plutarch chose to leave out the Ptolemy dream due to the poisoned weapons. Use of poison was both underhand and associated with witches, hardly a tool for warriors led by Brahman philosophers. Eidinow (2010), esp. 13–15, 20–22. 67 Implication: 3.1.14–18 (Gordion knot fulfilled or tricked), 4.4.3–5 (Tyrians see what they want to see), 4.10.2–7 (Egyptians know better but lie), 4.15.26–28 (eagle an optical illusion?), 7.10.13–14 (Alexander uses the appearance of oil), 9.9.10 (soldiers mistake a natural phenomenon, not unlike eclipse); explicitly: 5.4.1–2, 8.6.16–17, 10.5.33. He is more tolerant towards dreams, but once implies skepticism: 4.2.17. Omens/dreams with no overt negative attachment: 3.3.2–7, 4.2.13, 4.2.14, 4.3.21–22, 4.8.6, 5.2.15, 9.8.25–28. 68 Both are mentions of prior oracular advice, and are given without negative comment: to sacrifice to Herakles at Tyre, Curt. 4.2.2–4, and concerning the Lycian/wolf who would lead Alexander into Persia, Curt. 5.4.11. 69 Curt. 7.7.8.29; 9.4.26–29. 70 Curt. 7.10.13–14: … rexque ipse credi voluit, deum donum id fuisse. Arr. Anab. 4.15.7–8, and Plut. Alex. 57.3–58, with the discovery of oil seen to offset the bad omen of a lamb born with an inauspicious head marking. See Müller (2018) for a fuller discussion.

442

Reames

tides were an omen plays into Curtius’ presentation of omens as superstition arising from ignorance.71 Alexander’s dream of how to heal Ptolemy is the only form of divination in the second half that Curtius relates in straightforward fashion.72 Bowden points out that Curtius critiques omens which, nonetheless, prove correct, suggesting he left them as-is because they served his larger narrative intent.73 And Baynham explains, “Although [Curtius] may believe in these concepts [ fortuna/fatum], he does not necessarily have to believe in open manifestations of them, or what people believe are obvious signs of destiny.”74 Nonetheless the peculiar bunching of omens in three chapters may also tell a tale of sources. Bowden, Müller, and Trampedach all suggest Kallisthenes as the ultimate source for these omens, especially any involving the seer Aristandros.75 This may also explain why omens virtually disappear from Curtius at a certain point.76 The significant change in omens’ frequency coincides with the burning of Persepolis and subsequent death of Darius, which in turn would have coincided with less frequent summaries sent by Kallisthenes to Greek audiences back home. Dealing with Curtius’ views on omens foregrounds the struggle modern historians have with divination: the temptation to regard it either as primitive superstition, or Realpolitik propaganda legitimizing conquest.77 We must resist reading Alexander’s, or Philip’s, religious actions with cynical eyes, even ancient cynical eyes. Curtius’ view of omens does not reflect that of the other narrative extant historians. Curtius differs also as the only one to repeatedly catalogue the gods’ protection in general. Baynham looks extensively at the role of Fortuna in Curtius,78 71 Curt. 9.9.10, similar to the eclipse of the moon where Egyptians who know better nonetheless lie: 4.10.5–6. 72 9.8.25–28, also Diodorus, 17.103.7, suggesting Kleitarchos as the source of both. Curtius seems to regard dreams as more reliable, or at least, he is less overtly hostile to them. 73 Bowden (2017) 152–53, 158–60, particularly the Tanais incident with Aristoboulos. 74 Anson (1998) 115. 75 Bowden (2017); Müller (2018); Trampedach (2020). 76 Book 5 ends with a short lacuna that extends into the opening of Book 6, but this insufficiently explains the emptiness. Book 6 also concludes with the extensive collection of speeches regarding the Philotas Affair, an event that none of our sources hem with religious action, even omens, so subject matter might have aught to do with it. 77 Bowden (2017) 162–63. See also Bremmer (2010) 144, for a similar critique, albeit with regard to cult sacrifice: “Rather striking in these modern explanations is the ‘secular,’ reductionist approach, which does not take into account the explicit aims of the Greeks and tries to reduce sacrifice to one clear formula.” 78 Baynham (1998) 101–31; a smattering of examples from the first extant book: Curt. 3.4.11 (passing through Cillian Gates unopposed); 3.5.11, 3.6.18 (Kydnos River fever), 3.8.19, 29–30 (puts fear into Persians). Fortune saves the army at the Tigris too, 4.9.22.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult

443

but it is not only fortune. Among the religious actions Curtius relates is (formulaic) prayer: at Issos, the Persians are stuck in the narrows as Alexander had asked for,79 and at the Persian Gates, he prays for a safe venture, then the same again at the Sogdian Rock.80 In Scythia, Alexander complains to the gods about his wounds that prevent him from campaigning.81 Nabarzanes claims Persia began the war with the gods against her (5.9.4), Bessus complains the gods favor Alexander even to the point that his enemies help him (7.5.25–26), and the Malli and Sudrakai surrender because the gods told them to.82 Eurylochos claims the gods are still with his family as his brother left the Pages’ conspiracy rather than commit an impious crime (8.6.23), Koinos references gods and impious thoughts in his speech at the Hyphasis River (9.3.5), and the soldiers left to die in Gedrosia first appeal to the necessity for common burial rites, then curse those who abandon them.83 This interest in general divine favor, piety, and impiety may best be reflected in his account of Alexander and the Branchidai. Only Curtius contains detail, although it is referenced in other sources,84 and almost certainly would have appeared in Diodorus were it not for the massive lacuna. While some ascribe military motives to Alexander’s actions, at that juncture, religious vindication and punishment are more reasonable incentives. Nonetheless, Curtius struggles to frame the event, stating finally that if the destruction had been against the original authors of the treason, it would have been justified, but (visited on their descendants) it became mere cruelty.85 Whatever Alexander understood himself to be doing, for Curtius, it represents piety transmuted into heartlessness, which then verged on impiety.86 Furthermore, its placement there in his 79 Curt. 3.8.19; votum at least suggests a promised sacrifice or dedication to follow. 80 Curt. 5.4.12 and 7.11.14. In his translation, Rolfe explains, (1946, 362) n. b, that the usage at 5.4.12 is so stylized, quod bonum, felix, faustumque sit is abbreviated QBFFQS; same usage arises again at 7.11.14. Although Rolfe writes as if Alexander did say it, we may be sure Curtius crafted the phrase in line with Roman literary tradition. 81 Curt. 7.7.7: Ancipiti periculo inplicitus deos quoque incusans querebatur. 82 Curt. 9.7.13: deos sibi deditionis auctores, non metum. 83 Curt. 9.10.16; Ogden (2002) 118, for the particular strength of dying curses, and common fear of them. 84 Curt. 7.5.28–35; Strabo 14.1.5 and 17.1.43; FGrH 123, F14 (Kallisthenes, likely Strabo’s source); Plut. Mor. 557B; Suid. s.v. Βρανχίδαι (= Ael. F 54). References to Didyma’s destruction: Hdt. 6.19, 8.117, 9.107, Paus. 1.16.3, 8.46.3, Strabo 11.11.4. If unclear which Great King leveled the oracle (Darius, so Herodotus, or Xerxes, so later authors), those later authors accepted that Alexander had met the Branchidai’s descendants and destroyed them. 85 Curt. 7.5.35: Quae si in ipsos proditionis auctores excogitata essent, iusta ultio esse, non crudelitas videretur … 86 I discussed Alexander’s possible use of Ancient Near Eastern iconoclast precedent in Reames (2025). This is not unlike the tale of the criminal who put on royal robes and ascended the throne in Babylon, presented in our sources as a standard omen story—Arr.

444

Reames

narrative lets it function as one in a series of events that provide cause for divine revocation of the fortune that, as Bessus complained just a book prior (6.5.25), had even Alexander’s enemies helping him. At last, we reach Arrian, who records more religious matters than any other extant Alexander historian. His list of campaign-related sacrifices, dedications, and games is twice the length of the rest. He also talks about religious structures (shrines, temples, and altars), whether building them, fixing them, or recognizing them as sacred space in battle contexts. He mentions funerals, tombs, and honors for the war dead proportionally more than anyone except Diodorus. And he takes note of omens outside of sacrifice, as well as oracles. It is only with dreams that he exhibits little interest, mentioning just one.87 Arrian is also the most apt to document officer assignments, promotions, battle order, and details of smaller campaigns overlooked in other writers; yet for him, cult activity is clearly part-and-parcel of normal military action. Far from regarding Alexander’s piety as either quaint or worthy of apology, he treats it with sober consequence, commending Alexander’s scrupulous rites for the gods in his epilogue (7.28.1). Nevin says, “[B]elief in divine participation was not restricted to isolated superstitious types, but was a mainstream way of understanding the forces at work in the world,”88 and Hammond observes bluntly, “Arrian had a strong religious faith.”89 Arrian’s attitude contrasts with Curtius’, who praises Alexander’s clemency to the vanquished (10.5.28), but criticizes both his desire for divine honors, as well as complains that he trusted oracles too much (10.5.33). Yet Arrian is not always complimentary of Alexander’s piety, whatever he says in his epilogue. Liotsakis details his portrayal of Alexander’s arrogance towards the gods beginning in the last four books.90

87 88 89 90

Anab. 7.24.2–3; Diod. Sic. 17.116.2–4; Plut. Alex. 73.3–74.1—when it may have been the Ancient Near Eastern scapegoat king ritual, or Tyre’s chaining of Apollo as a form of Ancient Near Eastern iconoclasm. See Bowden (2013) 161, for the scapegoat possibility. Alexander’s dream that Herakles offered him a hand to lead him into Tyre, Arr. Anab. 2.18.1, which is also related by Plutarch (Alex. 24.3) and Curtius (4.2.17). Liotsakis (2019) 30–32 discusses why he may have stuck to only that one. Nevin (2017) 80. Hammond (2007) 313. Liotsakis (2019), e.g., 40–47, for a deconstruction of Alexander’s hubris towards Herakles and Dionysos, and 61–4, for Alexander’s arrogance compared to the moral virtue of the Scythians. Leon’s recent analysis (2021) says less about Arrian’s treatment of religion, his focus being Arrian as an imperial-era historian, but he has a little discussion (e.g., 71–75). Likewise, Bosworth (1988b), breezes over every-day religious action, focusing on source

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult

445

It is sacrifice and dedications, however, that I wish to consider, as these are what Arrian himself emphasized. By my count,91 he records fifty instances of Alexander sacrificing or dedicating. He even connects the fate of Kleitos to sacrifice.92 Curtius, our other long narrative, has only fifteen mentions of campaign sacrifices/dedications, Plutarch fourteen, Diodorus twelve, and Justin but three. Such a massive differential should not go unspecified. Furthermore, and while other sources relate sacrifice for personal reasons, only one of Arrian’s is. He lists twenty-four instances of sacrifices/dedications that do not appear in other historians, whereas the other three authors93 have only eight or nine not found in Arrian, even if Arrian describes the event. For instance, Curtius and Diodorus relate bad omens before the Mallian siege, while Diodorus and Plutarch mention thanksgiving sacrifices for his survival after.94 In contrast, Arrian digresses on what accounts of the Mallian campaign can be trusted (6.11.1–8). Arrian also leaves out mention of sacrifice before or after Issos, recounted by Curtius (3.8.22, 8.12.27) and Diodorus (17.40.1), although he notes a military burial which would have included sacrifices (2.12.1). Diodorus mentions customary sacrifices at Persepolis (17.72.1), while Arrian reports sacrifices, games, and torch races at Susa (3.16.9). Possibly Diodorus got the wrong city, but more likely, these are two separate events, as we may assume Alexander sacrificed upon entering each. Curtius details a thanksgiving sacrifice at Sisimithres’ surrender (8.2.32), and both Curtius (9.4.14) and Diodorus (17.97.3) mention thanksgiving sacrifices and altars when Alexander avoids drowning at the confluence of the Hydaspes and Akesinos rivers. Arrian relates the event but says nothing of sacrifices nor danger to Alexander.95 Diodorus notes propitiatory

91

92 93 94

95

traditions. Hammond (2007) says the most about Arrian’s treatment of Alexander’s religious actions, but without Liotsakis’ attention to framing. These are either by Alexander or on his orders. I separate some sacrifices carried out across a short period when each is specifically detailed, as at the Hellespont crossing, yet in other cases, e.g., games and sacrifices for Artemis at Ephesos, I count these as one because Arrian did so. I did not count dedications by others, such as the weapons to Hephaistion after his death, nor sacrifice denied (Tyre) or forgotten (Kleitos). A different method of counting could yield a different number of sacrifices but would not change the vastly greater overall reporting. Arr. Anab. 4.8.1–3, 4.9.5, so also Curt. 8.2.6–7. Justin lists no sacrifices not also listed by Arrian. Before: Curt. 9.4.27–29, Diod. Sic. 17.98.3, and after: Diod. Sic. 17.100.1, Plut. Alex. 63.6. The account of Alexander disregarding Demophon’s omens may have been rejected by Arrian, although he does not specifically mention it in his tirade about the silly stories going around concerning Mallia, and dismissing omens would have fit his presentation of an increasingly arrogant Alexander, so why he ignored it remains unclear. Arr. Anab. 6.4.4–5.4. He details the fleet anchoring on the right bank to pick up survivors clinging to wreckage but does not suggest Alexander was among them. Arrian wishes to

446

Reames

sacrifices after Alexander’s diadem blew off in the Babylonian marsh (17.117.1– 2), which event Arrian recounts as one of several bad omens, but with no mention of apotropaic sacrifice later (7.22.2–5). These aside, Arrian’s extensive list of sacrifices, both the unique and the shared, returns us to the king’s role not only as military leader and hegemon of the Corinthian League, but also as high priest of Macedon.96 Fredricksmeyer says: “Alexander performed most of these functions in accord with the ‘ancestral tradition’ (patrios nomos), both on a daily basis (with the first sacrifice at dawn), and at all special events, such as campaigns, battles, victories, escape from dangers, foundations of cities, crossing of rivers and straits, banquets, and so on.”97 I wish to linger especially on patrios nomos. Greenwalt lists traditional sacred duties of Macedonian kings, as does Fredericksmeyer.98 Arrian and Curtius repeatedly refer to these customary rites. Olympias urged Alexander to purchase one of her cooks, among whose recommendations was his familiarity with these sacrifices (Ath. 14.659f.). Patrios nomos is so important that Alexander continued it as his final illness worsened, not ceasing until he could no longer physically perform it.99 While the record of this comes from the ephemerides whose reliability has been called into question, on Alexander’s attention to daily patrios nomos, I think we may feel confident.100 Thus, Arrian provides our best view of Alexander as hiereus: priest or sacrificant. Leon underscores Alexander’s role not only as a student of history, but as consciously engaging with and continuing it, noting how his sacrifices at the Hellespont echoed Herodotus, and Homer.101 But these were not just a literary nod, nor mere staging for a Panhellenic campaign of retribution. If gods speak to mortals in omens and oracles, kings and commanders speak to their soldiers in public religious actions. Xenophon tells us that a good commander will, among other things, not lead his men against the enemy without the gods’ approval, nor in defiance of sacrifices.102 And, as noted above, in a book on military strategy, emphasize the dangers Alexander put his hapless men through, so he may have deliberately left out Alexander’s near-drowning, as it indicated he shared in those dangers. Liotsakis (2019) 118. 96 A king’s religious duties were so important that even when Greek city-states rejected monarchy, they retained a magistrate office of basileus (king) to execute those duties. 97 Fredricksmeyer (2003) 256. 98 Grenwalt (2016) 346–48; Fredricksmeyer (1991, 2003). 99 Arr. Anab. 7.25.2, 5–6; Plut. Alex. 76.2–3. 100 See Baynham’s discussion (2003) 5–6; also Bosworth (1971); Hammond (1988). 101 Leon (2021) 58–59. 102 Xen. Hipp. 6:4–6. Curtius also relates that, regarding the lunar eclipse before Gaugamela, the soldiers feared Alexander was leading them to war against the will of the gods, initiating unrest (4.10.2–7). It took the respected Aristandros’ interpretation to calm the ranks.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult

447

Polyaenus included Alexander’s habit of having sacrifices carried around so his men could see the omens for themselves (4.3.14). If Arrian’s cascade of sacrifices no doubt supports popular perceptions of Alexander as especially religious, such a conclusion overlooks the importance of these actions for soldier morale, something Arrian seems well aware of and, thus, showcases.103 In his attempt to present a definitive history of Alexander, Arrian includes Alexander’s attention to sacrifice not only to depict him as properly pious, but also as a good military commander. Even Curtius says as much in a backhanded way by implying that Alexander used the dream of Herakles leading him into Tyre as a way to motivate his men (4.2.17). Arrian’s emphasis on sacrifice thus tells us that he understood religious leadership as central, not merely adjacent, to proper military governance and the serious conduct of warfare. 4

Conclusions

And so, we return to where we began: there are no atheists in a foxhole. Not only did Philip and Alexander understand that, but—of import to this discussion—so did the historians who wrote about them. Each one stages Philip’s and Alexander’s engagement with (and use of) religious activity in different ways that do not necessarily echo their sources. For instance, the vulgate authors Justin and Diodorus present opposite views of Philip. Justin paints him just as impious as the Phokians he fought, whereas Diodorus holds him up as the gods’ avenger. Curtius criticizes Alexander’s reliance on omens, whereas Plutarch, Diodorus, and Arrian consider his attention to divination admirable. And Arrian especially highlights the importance of religious sacrificial cult throughout the campaign as a mark of responsible leadership. In his book Mask of Command, John Keegan outlined the importance of Alexander, et al., constructing a façade: “The leader of men in warfare can show himself to his followers only through a mask … made in such a form as will mark him to men of his time and place as the leader they want and need.” If an insightful study in many ways,104 religion as part of this mask was virtually

103 Although he does not much address Arrian’s consideration of religion, Leon (2021) 24–32, has a useful summary of Arrian’s attention to detail and willingness to read all the sources, “even the bad work” (32). 104 Keegan (1987) 11. His grasp of Macedonian politics and society is problematic, but the chapter on Alexander mostly avoids encomiastic or hyper-critical approaches found in other popular biographies published around the same time.

448

Reames

ignored. Yet our ancient sources, particularly Arrian, understood that for both Philip and Alexander, their masks of command included one as hierophant.

Reading the Synoptic Tables

The brief identifications in the left-hand column are based on the first source in the row; if the same event appears in other sources, significant differences are noted. Some entries appear in multiple tables if they fit multiple categories. People, if not Philip or Alexander (ATG), are named, as are gods if listed, but in the interest of space, I did not always name the mantis (seer). Each king has three tables. One: Sacrifices and dedications.105 Two: Dreams, omens, prophecy and oracles (messages from the gods). Three: Other religious matters (funerals, treatment of sacred space, and mention of divine help/punishment). A few additional primary-source citations may be included in footnotes, but I made no attempt to be comprehensive, sticking to the five extant historians.106

Appendix I: Philip II

Table 17.1 Sacrifices and dedications

Sacrifice Event/Locale

Diodorus

Victory over Bardylis, trophy dedicated Dion Olympics: victory sacrifices Chaironeia: victory trophy, sacrificesa Kleopatra’s wedding: Persian campaign

16.4.7 16.55.1 16.86.6 16.91.4

Justin

9.4.1, NO sacrifices

a The Philippeion, commissioned as a dedication at Olympia for the victory, while not mentioned specifically by Diodorus, is described by Pausanias at 5.20.9–10. See Schleif and Zschietzschmann (1944); Miller (1973); Huwendiek (1997); Townsend (2001); Schultz (2009); and von den Hoff (2020) 100–108.

105 While most sacrifices would have included extispicy, only rarely is it mentioned. When specified, extispicy is also included in the dreams/omens table. 106 While I made every attempt to be comprehensive with the five, I also make no claims to infallibility. If I overlooked one, I humbly beg for grace.

449

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult Table 17.2 Dreams, omens, prophecy and oracles

Sign

Diodorus

Dreams he seals Olympias’ womb w/ lion Delphic oracle says to sacrifice to Ammon, but will lose eye that saw god with O. Receives news of birth + Olympic victory + Illyrian victory Makes semi-prophetic pronouncement after Alexander tames Boukephalas Delphic Oracle for Persian campaign 16.91.2–4 Tributes made to Philip before wedding seen 16.92.2 as divinely inspired warning

Justin

Plutarch 2.2–3 3.1

12.16.6

3.4–5 6.5

Table 17.3 Other religious matters

Event

Diodorus

Summary of career at outset, Amphictyony appointment, piety Mention of old prophecy about great prosperity for Macedon under “Amyntas’ son” Bardylis: buries dead after battle Involvement in Sacred War via Thessaly Battle of Crocus Field, Phokians called temple robbers, Macedonians wear laurel crowns Called defender of Delphi General approval of Philip’s reverence Fortune mentioned as being on the side of the Perinthians during the siegeb Accused of sacrilege in contrast to prior piety Accused of taking/destroying temple statues

16.1.4a

Justin

7.6.1–2 16.4.7 16.35 ff. 16.35.3–6, no crowns

16.38.2 16.75.1, 76.3

8.1.4 ff. 8.2.3, crowns

8.2.3–7

8.3.2–5 8.5.5

a But see Diod. Sic. 16.54.4, for a critique. b In FGrH 390 F1 32–35, Hesychius mentions dogs barking to alert the Byzantines of a night attack, which might be seen as divine intervention, if not quite as obviously as Juno’s geese saving Rome from the Gauls (Livy 5.47.4).

450

Reames

Table 17.3 Other religious matters (cont.)

Event

Diodorus

Gives Thebes only some soldiers, but wants to be seen as dutiful to Apollo Rewarded with Phokian seats on Amphictyonic Council, in charge of Pythian Games, and destruction of Phokian arms Another general mention of piety due to role in Sacred War Later successes attributed to Apollo’s favor as a result of his piety Chaironeia: yields dead to enemy for burialc Persian campaign to avenge their profaning of Greek temples Enthrones himself among gods in parade after daughter’s wedding, in prep. for Persian war Mention of Philip’s descent from Herakles

16.58.3

Justin

16.59.4, 60-1–5

16.60.4–5 16.64.3 16.86.6 16.89.1–2 16.92.5, 16.95.1

9.2.10–13

c Diodorus does not say he buried his own dead, although we should assume it. Plutarch (Alex. 9.2) mentions the common burial mound (to polyandrion … ton Makedonon).



Appendix II: Alexander III

Table 17.4 Sacrifices and dedications

Sacrifice Event/ Localea

Arrian

Danube, Getai victory: Zeus Preserver, Herakles, river itself Aigai/Dion, departure for Asia: Zeus + games for Muses

1.4.5

1.11.1

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch Justin

17.16.3–4

a Poly. Strag. 4.3.14: ATG had seers carry sacrificial victims around to show soldiers favorable omens.

451

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult Table 17.4 Sacrifices and dedications (cont.)

Sacrifice Event/ Locale

Arrian

Hellespont: to Protesilaos Mid-crossing, gold bowl, to Poseidon, Nereids Hellespont: altars for Athena + Zeus Protector of Landings + Herakles Troy: offerings/signs of respect + to Achilles, Ajax, “the rest” Aristandros called “sacrificant” Athena’s temple Troy: armor dedication to Athena, sacrifices to Priam Troy: pilot crowns ATG, ATG (and Hephaistion) crown Achilles/ (Patroklos) tombs Granikos: bronze statues for dead at Dion + 300 Persian armor sets to Athens/ Athenab Sardis Temple for Zeus as dedicationc Ephesos: Artemis, with military parade

1.11.5

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch Justin

1.11.6

1.11.7

11.5.4, 12 altars total

17.17.3

17.17.6– 18.1 1.11.7–8

17.18.1, no Priam

1.12.1

1.16.4, 7

15.4, race at Achilles’ tomb

15.4, just sacrifice 15.4–5, no pilot

17.21.6, aspecific

16.8

11.6.12– 13

1.17.5–6 1.18.2

b Strabo 13.1.26; Pliny, HN 39.64; Vell. Pat. 1.11.4, for additional information on the Granikos dedications. c A temple to Athena in Priene, not mentioned in sources: Tod #184, I Priene #156, I.K. Priene I #149.

452

Reames

Table 17.4 Sacrifices and dedications (cont.)

Sacrifice Event/ Locale

Arrian

Gordion Knot: thanksgiving sacrifice Asklepios, for healing after Knidos R. illness Mallos: Athena Megarsa + Amphilokos Issos pre-battle: tutelary gods Issos victory: altars for Zeus, Athena, Herakles Denied Herakles sacrifice in Tyre, told to use Old Tyre Tyrians sacrificed children to Melqart Sacrifices before final assault; Aristandros says city will fall that month Tyre victory: military parade to Herakles, dedicate ship + siege engine Gaza: during usual pre-battle sacrifice, bird drops something on him

2.3.8 2.5.8

2.5.9

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch Justin

3.7.3–4, also Athena + games

3.8.22 d

3.12.27

2.15.7, 2.16.7

4.2.2–4

17.40.1

4.3.23 25.1–2

2.24.6

2.26.4– 27.2

17.46.6, rewards for soldiers

11.10.10– 11, cause for attack

4.6.10–13

d Arr. Anab. 2.12.1 describes a military funeral and a speech, but does not mention victory sacrifices or altars.

453

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult Table 17.4 Sacrifices and dedications (cont.)

Sacrifice Event/ Locale Leonidas rebukes young ATG for too much incense, sends ship full of incense to Leonidas so not stingy with gods Memphis: Egyptian gods, especially Apis Alexandria: Greek gods + Isis with omens for city Siwah: sacrifice + gifts Siwah return: Zeus the King/ Ammon?, military parade Tyre redux: Herakles + games Tigris, moon eclipse: to Moon, Sun, Earth Gaugamela: prebattle sacrifice to Zeus + Athena Babylon: Bel Marduk, advised by Chaldeans Susa: “traditional manner” + games and torch race Persepolis: sacrifice + games Sacrifice for Krateros’ health

Arrian

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch Justin

25.5

3.1.4 3.1.5

3.5.2

3.6.1 3.7.6

3.16.5

4.7.28

4.8.16 + dedications

29.1–31.4

4.13.15–16, 4.13.22

31.4–5, to Fear

5.1.22

3.16.9

17.72.1 41.4

454

Reames

Table 17.4 Sacrifices and dedications (cont.)

Sacrifice Event/ Locale

Arrian

Zadrakarta: traditional, games At arrest of Demetrios the Bodyguard: to Apollo Alexandria in Caucasus: customary sacrifice Tanais R.: new city sacrifice Tanais crossing, Aristandros declares omens unfavorable, ATG crosses anyway Kleitos killing: ATG forgets Dionysos’ sacrifice, or Kleitos forgets unspecified sacrifice Oil at Oxus: sacrifice as prescribed by “seers” Sisimithres surrender, Athena Aornos Rock victory

3.25.1

Indus: customary sacrifices + games, omens good to cross Taxila: sacrifices on both sides of Indus River

5.3.6

Hydaspes victory + games

5.20.1

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch Justin

3.27.5

3.28.4

4.4.1 4.4.3

7.7.8–9, 21–29

4.8.1–3, 4.9.5

8.2.6–7

50.2–4

4.15.7–8 8.2.32 4.30.5

8.11.2–3, 24–35, altars to Athena

5.8.2–3

9.1.1, sun

17.89.3, sun

455

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult Table 17.4 Sacrifices and dedications (cont.)

Sacrifice Event/ Locale

Arrian

Hyphasis: omens bad to cross Hyphasis: giant altars include sacrifices + games for return Hydaspes: to Hydaspes, Indus, Akesinos as directed by seers + Herakles, Ammon + customary gods (gold cup too) For surviving almost drowning Mallia: Demophon’s sacrifice has bad omens, ATG ignores Mallia: for survival Islands in Ocean: as ordered by Ammon + altars Karmania: Gedrosia survivial Opis Reconciliation Banquet: to customary gods Ekbatana: sacrifices + games Kossaian war dead called a sacrifice to Hephaistion Epidauran delegation given money for sacrifice although didn’t save Hephaistion

5.28.4

Curtius

Diodorus

5.29.1–2

Plutarch Justin

62.4

6.3.1–2

9.4.14 altars 17.97.3 for streams 9.4.27–29

6.19.4–5 9.9.27

17.100.1 17.104.1

63.6 66.1

6.28.3 7.11.8–9

7.14.1 72.3

7.14.6

12.10.4

456

Reames

Table 17.4 Sacrifices and dedications (cont.)

Sacrifice Event/ Locale

Arrian

Curtius

Dedications to Hephaistion Games for Hephaistion Babylon: customary + special according to prophesy, shared meat & wine with army Forgets sacrifice after diadem incident Toast to Herakles: cup of wine that makes ATG cry out Babylon: final illness, 3 days, customary morning sacrifice Arrian commends ATG’s scrupulous rites for gods

7.14.9, weapons 7.14.10 7.24.4

Diodorus

Plutarch Justin

17.115.1, likenesses 75.1–2, omens + sacrificese 17.117.1 17.117.1–2

7.25.2, 5–6

76.2–3 (2 days)

7.28.1

e Plutarch is critical here, saying Alexander fell into superstition. See Asirvatham (2001, 2018) on Plutarch’s themes of Hellenism and barbarism, and his philosophic religion. Table 17.5 Dreams, omens, prophecy and oracles

Sign/dream/prophecy Olympias dreams thunderbolt hits womb Philip dreams he puts lion seal on Olympias’ womb Philip sees Olympias sleeping with (golden) serpent

Arrian

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch

Justin

2.2 2.2–3

2.4, 3.1

11.11.3, 12.16.2, dreams of serpent

457

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult Table 17.5 Dreams, omens, prophecy and oracles (cont.)

Sign/dream/prophecy

Arrian

2 eagles on roof Delphic oracle tells Philip to sacrifice to Ammon, but will lose eye that saw O. & god Olympias hints truth of begetting, or denies it Temple of Artemis burns down at ATG’s birth Philip receives news of birth + Olympic victory + Illyrian victory Spares Alex. of Lynkestis as good omen for reign Thebes: aspecific 1.9.8 omens Thebes: spiderweb in temple of Demeter Thebes: sweating statues; bellows, blood in marsh bloodstains on Delphi temple Delphi: called “invincible” Sweating Orpheus 1.11.2 statue Troy: flinging spear into Asia Troy: Ariobarzanes fallen statue at Athena’s temple Granikos: renames Dasios to avoid inauspicious war month

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch

3.1

Justin 12.16.5

3.2 3.3–4 3.4–5

12.16.6

11.2.2

17.10.2–3 17.10.4

17.10.5 14.4

17.17.2 17.17.6–7

16.2

458

Reames

Table 17.5 Dreams, omens, prophecy and oracles (cont.)

Sign/dream/prophecy

Arrian

Sardis: lightning strike shows place for Zeus’ temple Eagle on shore: Parmenion & ATG debate meaning Bronze tablet found w/ prophecy of Persia’s fall Swallow pesters napping Alexander Perge: wind change makes sea road passable (called omen) Gordion Knot, thunder after confirms

1.17.6

Darius has anxiety dreams Athenian Charidemos curses Darius before death Darius’ tent made ready for ATG, omen for success Tyre: sacrifices oracle ordered Tyrian forges spill blood Tyre: blood from Macedonian soldiers’ bread Tyre: Herakles on city walls offers a hand to ATG Tyrian dreams Apollo leaving so Tyrians chain statue

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch

Justin

1.18.6–9

17.2–3 1.25.6–8 1.26.2

2.3.1–8

18.1–2

3.1.14–18 fulfilled or tricked it 3.3.2–7

18.4–5 17.30.5

17.36.5

4.2.2–4 4.2.13 4.2.14

2.18.1

17.41.7

4.2.17, as propaganda 4.3.21–22, adds mole as forest

24.3

17.41.7–8, claims man lying

24.4

11.7.3–4, 15–16

459

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult Table 17.5 Dreams, omens, prophecy and oracles (cont.)

Sign/dream/prophecy Tyre: ATG dreams of satyr Tyre: Sea monster on mole Aristandros predicts Tyre falls that month, despite on last day Gaza: bird drops something on ATG’s head Old man in dream tells where to found Alexandria Alexandria: sacrifices read for omens, Isis + Greek gods Alexandria: birds eat barley Siwah: rainfall in desert Siwah: ravens or snakes lead

Arrian

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch 24.5

4.4.3–5

17.41.5 25.1–2

2.26.4–27.2

25.3–4

26.3

3.1.5

4.8.6 3.3.4 3.3.5–6

Siwah: ATG 3.4.5 consults oracle Anaxarchos asks ATG if he can thunder like Zeus Soldiers dressed as Darius and ATG fight; ATG wins: omen 3.7.6 Gaugamela: moon eclipse, Aristandros foresees success in a battle that month Gaugamela: Darius says panic among Macedonian troops an omen for Persian victory

26.5–6 17.49.4 17.49-5–6

17.51.1–4

27.1 27.2–3, birds recall lost 27.3–6 28.2 31.2

4.10.2–7, superstition

4.13.13

31.4

Justin

460

Reames

Table 17.5 Dreams, omens, prophecy and oracles (cont.)

Sign/dream/prophecy Eagle around ATG at Gaug. Eclipse prediction confirmed Babylon: Philotas says ATG’s use of table as footstool omen Persian Gates: summons seers Persian Gates: Lycian/ wolf guide into Persia by oracle ATG has dream how to heal Krateros from illness Tanais: sacrificial omens bad, ATG crosses anyway Pages Conspiracy: Syrian woman seer warns ATG to go back to party Dreams before Kleitos’ death; omens used after to comfort Oxus: lamb with odd head-marking, bad omen Oxus: oil found by royal tent; ATG sacrifices as advised Indus: sacrificial omens good Hyphasis: sacrificial omens bad

Arrian

Curtius

Diodorus

4.15.26–28

Plutarch 33.2

3.15.7 5.2.15

5.4.1–2, makes fun 5.4.11

4.4.3

7.7.8–9, 21–29

4.13.5–6

8.6.16–17

17.66.7, in Susa

37.1–2, says Pythia 41.3–4

50.1–3, 52.1 57.3

4.15.8

5.3.6 5.28.4

7.10.14–15, propaganda

57.4, oil offsets lamb

Justin

461

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult Table 17.5 Dreams, omens, prophecy and oracles (cont.)

Sign/dream/prophecy Hyphasis Mutiny: says Pythia named him invincible + Ammon gave rule of all world Mallia: Demophon tells ATG omens bad; he doesn’t listen India: ATG has dream of herb to heal Ptolemy/others Indus: soldiers think tides an omen from gods Ocean: sacrifices as directed by Ammon Sacrificial omens predict death of Hephaistion + ATG At his funeral, Kalanos says will see ATG in Babylon ATG asks Ammon for divine honors for Hephaistion Hephaistion: Ammon allows heroic honors Babylon: sacred fire put out for Hephaistion’s funeral; seen as omen of ATG’s death Chaldeans warn ATG not to enter Babylon from west

Arrian

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch

Justin

17.93.4

9.4.27–29

17.98.3–4

9.8.25–28

17.103.7–8

12.10.3

9.9.10

6.19.4–5 7.18.1–5

7.18.6

7.14.7

7.23.6–8 17.114.4–5

7.16.5–7a

17.112.2–5

72.2–3, 75.2

12.13.3

a Arrian says Alexander tried another entry, but finally decided to ignore the Chaldeans, as he believed they were corrupted and had embezzled temple funds that they did not want him to learn about. Diodorus claims that the philosopher Anaxarchos turned Alexander against divination via philosophy.

462

Reames

Table 17.5 Dreams, omens, prophecy and oracles (cont.)

Sign/dream/prophecy

Arrian

Diadem blows off in marsh where Assyrian kings buried

7.22.2–5

Criminal sits on throne 7.24.1–3 Babylon: more sacrifices 7.24.4 directed by prophecy Omens + oracles 7.30.2 foretell death Too much faith in oracles

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch

17.116.5– 117.1, after forgets to sacrifice 17.116.2–4

73.3–4

17.116.1

75.1–2

Justin

10.5.33

Table 17.6 Other religious matters

Activity/Attribution

Arrian

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch

Justin

Buries Philip + avenges murder Descent from Herakles and Achilles Thessaly: woos via ancestral link Thebans pray in temples Thebans torn from shrines by soldiers Thebes’ destruction attributed to siding with Persia/other atrocities ATG spares consecrated ground + priest/esses

1.10.5

10.5.31

17.2.1

27.3–4

11.2.1

17.1.5

2.1

17.4.1, Herakles 17.11.3 1.8.7 (says not Macedonians) 1.9.7

1.9.9

11.3.1, Achilles

17.13.6

11.6

463

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult Table 17.6 Other religious matters (cont.)

Activity/Attribution Macedonian dead buried Hearing about Thebes, Athenians halt Mysteries Remorse over Thebes fuels clemency to others Hellespont altars: Zeus Protector of Landings, Athena, Herakles Granikos: Macedonian war-cry to Enyalios Granikos: Macedonian + Persian dead buried Sardis: builds Olympian Zeus temple Ephesos: Persian tribute to be given to Artemisb Ephesos: punishes temple/statue despoilers Mallos: taxes dropped for Argive colonists to honor common ancestors Generic mentions of fortune in Anatolia

Arrian

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch

Justin

17.14.1 1.10.2

13.1

13.2

1.11.7

11.5.4, 12 altars

1.14.7

1.16.5–6

17.21.6

1.17.5–6

1.17.10

1.17.11–12

2.5.9

a Burial implied but not stated. b Strab. 14.1.22 also.

3.4.11

16.8a

11.6.12–13

464

Reames

Table 17.6 Other religious matters (cont.)

Activity/Attribution Recovery from Kydnos River due to divine favor “Some deity” intervened for Darius to leave plain Issos: reminds soldiers Persians burned shrines Issos: buries dead Issos: altars to Zeus, Herakles, Athena In letter, Darius attributes Issos’ outcome to gods Tyrians kill heralds Tyre: suppliants in temple spared in razing Tyre: buries battle dead, removes Apollo’s chains Gaza: drags Batis in emulation of Achilles Herakles as inspiration for Siwah visit Siwah: claims of divinity Refers to Philip: “called my father” Blood not ichor

Arrian

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch

Justin

3.5.11, 3.6.18 2.6.6

2.12.1

20.4, gift of Fortune

3.8.19, 29–30, Fortune 3.10.8–9

3.12.27

17.40.1

2.14.3

2.24.5

4.2.15, 17 4.4.13–14

17.46.6

4.6.29 3.3.1–2

4.7.5, 24–31

27.5

28.1–2

11.11.2, 6–12, bribed priests (11.11.4)c

28.1–2

c Philip supposedly disowned Alexander after the wedding to Kleopatra; Justin has misunderstood Macedonian royal polygamy but uses the rumor here to cast aspersions on Alexander’s paternity tied to Olympias’ orgiastic rites.

465

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult Table 17.6 Other religious matters (cont.)

Activity/Attribution Used divinity claims, didn’t believe them Pays actor’s fine, won’t argue Dionysia rules Fortune to cross Tigris unopposed Gaugamela: Darius calls on Sun + Mithras Before Gaugamela: prays “If sprung from Zeus …” Buried Gaugamela dead Babylon: Marduk temple to be rebuilt Persian Gates: distressed can’t bury dead Persian Gates: ATG prays for success Persepolis: burned palace as Dionysian komos Persian burning of Greek temples avenged by burning Persepolis Dying Darius prays for ATG’s success Nabarzanes says gods against Persia from start Funeral for Nikanor

Arrian

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch

Justin

28.3 29.3 4.9.22 4.13.12–13

33.1

17.64.3 3.16.4 5.4.3–4

5.4.12 17.72.4

17.72.6

11.15.10 5.9.4

d

6.6.18–19

d Arr. Anab. 3.25.4 says he died of disease but doesn’t mention the funeral.

466

Reames

Table 17.6 Other religious matters (cont.)

Activity/Attribution Bessus says Fortune makes even ATG’s enemies help him Branchidai destruction for Didyma impiety Scythia: ATG complains to gods about debilitating wounds Scythian wise man says they don’t need gods to seal oaths, unlike Greeks Sogdian rock: prayer for soldiers’ success Burial of war deade Funeral for Philip (died in pursuit of Darius) + Erigyios (illness?) Kallisthenes said Alexander owes him more than Olympias for divinity Kallisthenes uses Patroklos against ATG Proskynesis supper: salute household shrines

Arrian

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch

Justin

7.5.25–26

7.5.28–35

7.7.7

7.8.29

7.9.14 7.9.21–22 8.2.40

4.10.2

54.1

54.3

e Plut. Mor. 334f. says when Aristonikos the kitharist was killed in battle, Alexander dedicated a bronze statue at Delphi in his honor; Arrian recounts the kitharist’s death (4.16.7), but mentions no dedication.

467

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult Table 17.6 Other religious matters (cont.)

Activity/Attribution

Arrian

Curtius

Proskynesis: Herakles & Dionysos as models for ATG to get divine honors Proskynesis: Aiakid + Heraklid descent only Kleitos’ last banquet: ATG likened to Herakles + Dioskouroi Kleitos makes fun of divine sonship Kleitos’ death called “wrath of Dionysos” Pages’ Conspiracy: gods didn’t desert Eurylochos’ family (brother repented) ATG “treaty-breaker” for slaughtering mercenaries Aornos Rock: attacks as Herakles couldn’t take Aornos Rock: Victory altar to Athena Nysa: locals’ reprieve via connection to Dionysos Indian kings say ATG 3rd son of Zeus in India

4.10.6–7, Anaxarchos

8.5.5/8/11, flatterers

Diodorus

Plutarch

4.11.6, Kallisthenes 4.8.3

50.6 4.9.5

8.2.6–7

8.3

8.6.23

17.84.2

4.27.3–4, no mention of broken treaty 4.28.1–2, 4, 4.30.5.5

17.85.1–2

59.3–4, hung brahmansf

8.11.24–25 5.1.1–2.7

8.10.11– 12, 17–18 8.10.1

f Contrast with Plutarch’s later story of the Brahman debate, Alex. 64.1–65.1.

Justin

468

Reames

Table 17.6 Other religious matters (cont.)

Activity/Attribution Indian kings carry “Herakles” before them in battle (Vishnu) Hydaspes: buries dead Hyphasis: Aornos Rock, Nysa (besting Herakles + Dionysos) to woo troops Hyphasis: Dionysos’ anger over Thebes Hyphasis: Koenos says gods prevent impious thoughts in soldiers Hyphasis: 12 huge altars/ camp Sibians claim descent from Herakles’ troops Agalasseis: suppliants with branches, spared Altars after surviving Indus River rapids Does battle with river, like Achilles Brahman suppliants with branches, spared Harmatelia: suppliants with branches, spared Surpassed Herakles + Dionysos by reaching Ocean

Arrian

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch

Justin

8.14.11

5.20.1 5.26.5

17.89.3 9.2.29

8.3 9.3.5

5.29.1

9.3.19

17.95.1–2

9.4.2–3

17.96.2 17.96.5

9.4.14

17.97.3, says just sacrifices 17.97.3 17.102.7

17.103.8

9.4.21

62.4

12.8.16

469

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult Table 17.6 Other religious matters (cont.)

Activity/Attribution Seeks divine honors for Olympias Malli + Sudracai: gods tell them to surrender ATG’s fleet compared to Dionysos/gods Barce + altars upon leaving India Gedrosia: dying soldiers curse those leaving them Kleandros + Sitalkes punished for despoiling shrines (et al.) Karmania: Dionysian komos for army Restores Cyrus’ tomb after despoiling Orxines killed for despoiling shrines/ tombs Funeral of Kalanos Aboulites + Oxathres killed for shrine theft Opis: Soldiers mock Ammon as ATG’s father Opis: semi-divine status of kings why his soldiers didn’t assault ATG

Arrian

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch

Justin

9.6.26–27, 10.5.30 9.7.12–13

9.8.5

12.10.6 9.10.15–16

6.27.4

10.1.2

6.28.1–2

9.10.24–25 17.106.1

6.29.9–11, magi arrested 6.30.2 10.1.30–38 (Orsines)

67.3 69.2, names Polymachos

7.3.1–6 7.4.1–2

17.107.1–6 69.3–4

7.8.3

17.108.3g

10.3.3–4

g In Diodorus, the mocking of the soldiers is given as Alexander’s reason for creating the Epigonoi unit.

470

Reames

Table 17.6 Other religious matters (cont.)

Activity/Attribution

Arrian

Hephaistion’s death: cuts hair as Achilles for Pat. Hephaistion’s death: burns Asklepios’ temple Hephaistion equated with Patroklos ATG suspects Chaldeans squandered funds left to fix temples Funeral of Kalanos Competition with Dionysos a reason to go to Arabia Greek cities crown ATG as if to honor a god Religious embassies have audiences first Letter to Kleomenes about hero shrines in Egypt for Hephaistion Hephaistion’s tomb generally

7.14.4

Listening to mother’s complaints act of piety Leaves instruction to be buried at Siwah

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch

Justin

7.14.5h

7.16.8 7.17.1–4

7.18. 7.20.1

7.23.2

17.113.3 7.23.7

7.14.8

17.114.1, 4–5, 115.1–6 17.118.1

12.12.12

12.15.7

h Arrian is very dubious of this, and no other mention exists. It would be the only example of Alexander burning a Greek temple outside of (maybe) the Branchidai incident, which had deeply pious motives (Reames, 2025).

471

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult Table 17.6 Other religious matters (cont.)

Activity/Attribution

Arrian

Arrian: divine paternity okay; “intervention of the gods” behind birth Death due to gods’ envy Curtius: praises Alex’s clemency to vanquished Curtius: critiques divine honors + anger when refused Purification of army through divided dogi

7.30.2, 7.29.3

Curtius

Diodorus

Plutarch

Justin

10.5.10 10.5.28

10.5.33

10.9.11–12

i Although occurring after Alexander’s death, both Philip and Alexander would have performed this same ritual.

Works Cited Anson, E. M. (2020) Philip II, the Father of Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues. London. Asirvatham, S. R. (2001) “Olympias’ Snake and Callisthenes’ Stand: Religion and Politics in Plutarch’s Life of Alexander,” in Asirvatham, Pache, and Watrous (2001) 93–125. Asirvatham, S. R. (2018) “Plutarch’s Alexander,” in Moore (2018) 355–76. Asirvatham, S. R., Pache, C. O., and Watrous, J. (eds) (2001) Between Magic and Religion: Interdisciplinary Studies in Ancient Mediterranean Religion and Society. Lanham, MD. Badian, E. (1981) “The Deification of Alexander the Great,” in Dell and Borza (1981) 27–71. Balsdon, J. P. V. D. (1950) “The ‘Divinity’ of Alexander.” Historia 1: 363–88. Baynham, E. J. (1994) “The Question of Divine Honors for Philip II.” MedArch 7: 35–43. Baynham, E. J. (1998) Alexander the Great: the unique history of Curtius Rufus. Ann Arbor, MI.

472

Reames

Baynham, E. J. (2003) “The Ancient Evidence for Alexander the Great,” in Roisman (2003) 3–29. Beerden, K. (2013) World Full of Signs: Greek Divination in Context. Leiden. Bonnechere, P. (2010) “Divination,” in Ogden (2010) 145–60. Bosworth, A. B. (1971) “The Death of Alexander the Great: Rumor and Propaganda.” CQ 21: 112–36. Bosworth, A. B. (1977) “Alexander and Ammon,” in Kinzl (1977) 51–75. Bosworth, A. B. (1988a) Conquest and Empire: The Reign of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Bosworth, A. B. (1988b) From Arrian to Alexander: Studies in Historical Interpretation. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1996a) Alexander in the East: The Tragedy of Triumph. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1996b) “Alexander, Euripides, and Dionysus: The Motivation for Apotheosis,” in Wallace and Harris (1996) 140–66. Bosworth, A. B. (2003) “Plus ça change…. Ancient Historians and Their Sources.” ClAnt 22.2: 167–97. Bowden, H. (2017) “The Eagle has Landed: Divination in the Alexander Historians,” in Howe et al. (2017) 149–68. Bowden, H. (2018) “Alexander as Achilles: Arrian’s Use of Homer from Troy to the Granikos,” in Howe and Pownall (2018) 163–80. Bremmer, J. (2010) “Greek Normative Animal Sacrifice,” in Ogden (2010) 132–44. Brosius, M. (2003) “Alexander and the Persians,” in Roisman (2003) 169–93. Burkert, W. (1985) Greek Religion. Cambridge. Casanova, A. (2012) “Plutarch as Apollo’s Priest at Delphi,” in Lanzillotta and Gallarte (2012) 151–57. Cawkwell, G. L. (1994) “The Deification of Alexander the Great,” in Worthington (1994) 293–306. Collins, A. (2012) “Callisthenes on Olympias and Alexander’s Divine Birth.” AHB 26: 1–14. Dell, H. D. and Borza, E. N. (eds) (1981) Ancient Macedonian Studies in Honor of Charles F. Edson. Thessaloniki. Dignas, B. and Trampedach, K. (eds) (2008) Practitioners of the Divine. Greek Priests and the Religious Officials from Homer to Heliodorus. Cambridge. Dillon, M. (1996a) “The Importance of oionomanteia in Greek Divination,” in Dillon (1996b) 99–121. Dillon, M. (ed) (1996b) Religion in the Ancient World: New Themes and Approaches. Amsterdam. Edmunds, L. (1971) “The Religiosity of Alexander.” GRBS 12: 373–91. Eidinow, E. (2010) “Patterns of Persecution: ‘Witchcraft Trials’ in Classical Athens.” P&P 208: 9–35.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult

473

Flower, M. A. (2008) The Seer in Ancient Greece. Berkeley. Fredricksmeyer, E. (1966) “The Ancestral Rites of Alexander the Great.” CPh 61: 179–82. Fredricksmeyer, E. (1979a) “Divine Honors for Philip II.” TAPhA 109: 39–61. Fredricksmeyer, E. (1979b) “Three Notes on Alexander’s Deification.” AJAH 4: 1–9. Fredricksmeyer, E. (1991) “Alexander, Zeus Ammon, and the Conquest of Asia.” TAPhA 121: 199–214. Fredricksmeyer, E. (2003) “Alexander’s Religion and Divinity,” in Roisman (2003): 253–78. Greenwalt, W. (2015) “Thracian and Macedonian Kingship,” in Valeva (2015) 337–51. Hamilton, J. R. (1969) Plutarch, Alexander. A Commentary. Oxford. Hammond, N. G. L. (1988) “The Royal Journals of Alexander the Great.” Historia 37: 129–50. Hammond, N. G. L. (2007) Sources for Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Hanson, V. D. (ed) (1991) Hoplites: The Classical Greek Battle Experience. New York. Hau, L. I. (2009) “The Burden of Good Fortune in Diodoros of Sicily: A Case for Originality?” Historia 58.2: 171–97. Hau, L. I., Meeus, A., and Sherdan, B. (eds) (2018) Diodoros of Sicily. Historiographical Theory and Practice in the Bibliotheke. Leuven. Heckel, W. (2015) “Alexander, Achilles, and Heracles: Between Myth and History,” in Wheatley and Baynham (2015) 21–33. Henrichs, A. (2008) “What is a Greek Priest?” in Dignas and Trampedach (2008) 1–14. Hinge, G., Jensen, J. T., Schultz, P., and Wickkiser, B. (eds) (2009) Aspects of Ancient Greek Cult: Context, Ritual and Iconography. Aarhus, Denmark. Hogarth, D. G. (1887) “The Deification of Alexander the Great.” EHR 2.6: 317–29. Hölscher, T. (2020) “Mythical Models of Alexander’s Image and Biography,” in Trampedach and Meeus (2020) 21–44. Howe, T., Müller, S., and Stoneman, R. (eds) (2017) Ancient Historiography on War and Empire. Oxford. Howe, T. and Pownall, F. (eds) (2018) Ancient Macedonians in the Greek and Roman Sources. From History to Historiography. Swansea. Huwendiek, J. (1997) “Zur Interpretation des Philippeion in Olympia.” Boreas 19: 15–159. Iles Johnston, S. (2008) Ancient Greek Divination. West Sussex, UK. Jameson, M. (1991) “Sacrifice before Battle,” in Hanson (1991) 197–228. Keegan, J. (1987) The Mask of Command. New York. King, B. J. (2017) Evolving God: A Provocative View on the Origins of Religion, expanded edition. Chicago. King, C. J. (2013) “Plutarch, Alexander, and Dream Divination.” ICS 38: 81–111. Kinzl, K. (ed) (1977) Greece and the Ancient Mediterranean in History and Prehistory. Studies Presented to Fritz Schachermeyr. Berlin.

474

Reames

Koulakiotis, E. (2013) “Aspects de la divination dans la monarchie macédoienne.” Kernos 26: 123–38. Lanzillotta, L. R. and Muñoz Gallarte, I. (2012) Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse of Late Antiquity. Leiden. Leon, D. W. (2021) Arrian the Historian. Writing the Greek Past in the Roman Empire. Austin, TX. Liotsakis, V. (2019) Alexander the Great in Arrian’s ‘Anabasis’: A Literary Portrait. Berlin. Ma, J. (2008) “Chaironeia 338: Topographies of Commemoration.” JHS 128: 72–91. Maitland, J. (2015) “MHNIN AEI E EA: Alexander the Great and the Anger of Achilles,” in Wheatley and Baynham (2015) 1–20. Manetti, G. (1993) Theories of the Sign in Classical Antiquity. Bloomington, IN. Miller, S. J. (1973) “The Philippeion and Macedonian Hellenistic Architecture.” MDAI(A) 88: 189–218. Moloney, E. P. (2015) “Neither Agamemnon nor Thersites, Achilles nor Margites.” Antichthon 49: 50–72. Moore, K. R. (ed) (2018) Brill’s Companion to the Reception of Alexander the Great. Leiden. Müller, S. (2018) “Miracles of Water and Oil in the Historiography on Alexander,” in Nawotka et al. (2018) 131–47. Muntz, C. E. (2017) Diodorus Siculus and the World of the Late Roman Republic. Oxford. Naiden, F. S. (2019) Soldier, Priest and God. A Life of Alexander the Great. New York. Nawotka, K. and Wojciechowska, A. (eds) (2016) Alexander the Great and the East: History, Art, Tradition. Wiesbaden. Nawotka, K., Rollinger, R., Wiesehöfer, J., and Wojciechowska, A. (eds) (2018) The Historiography of Alexander the Great. Wiesbaden. Nevin, S. (2017) Military Leaders and Sacred Space in Classical Greek Warfare. London. Ogden, D. (2002) Magic, Witchcraft, and Ghosts in the Greek and Roman Worlds: a Sourcebook. Oxford. Ogden, D. (ed) (2010) A Companion to Greek Religion. West Sussex, UK. O’Sullivan, L. (2015) “Callisthenes and Alexander the Invincible God,” in Wheatley and Baynham (2015) 35–52. Palagia, O. and Tracy, S. V. (2001) The Macedonians in Athens 322–229 BC. Oxford. Parker, R. (2000) “Sacrifice and Battle,” in van Wees (2000) 299–314. Pederson, B. (2015) “Callisthenes and the Creation of the Homeric Hero.” C&M 66: 103–27. Pownall, F. (1998) “What Makes a War a ‘Sacred’ War?” EMC 42.1: 35–55. Prandi, L. (2018) “A Monograph on Alexander the Great: Diodoros Book XVII,” in Hau, Meeus and Sherdan (2018) 175–85. Raphals, L. (2013) Divination and Prediction in Early China and Ancient Greece. Cambridge.

Philip ’ s and Alexander ’ s Use of Religious Cult

475

Reames, J. (2025) “Appropriating Narratives of Empire: Alexander and the Destruction of the Branchidae,” in Reames and Wrightson (2025) 105–42. Reames, J. and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2025) Macedon and its Influences: Narratives of Politics and War in Honor of Edward M. Anson. Colloquia Antiqua 44. Leuven. Roisman, J. (ed) (2003) Brill’s Companion to Alexander the Great. Leiden. Rolfe, J. C. (trans) (1946) Quintus Curtius. History of Alexander, books I–V. Cambridge, MA. Romm, J. (2010a) “Alexander’s Army and Military Leadership,” in Romm (2010b) 343–51. Romm, J. (ed) (2010b) The Landmark Arrian: The Campaigns of Alexander. New York. Sacks, K. S. (1990) Diodorus Siculus and the First Century. Princeton. Santangelo, F. (2007) “Prediction and Divination in Diodorus.” DHA 33: 115–26. Schleif, H. and Zschietzschmann, W. (1944) “Das Philippeion.” Olympische Forschungen 1: 1–52. Schultz, P. (2009) “Divine Images and Royal Ideology in the Philippeion at Olympia,” in Hinge et al. (2009) 125–93. Sulimani, I. (2011) Diodorus’ Mythistory and the Pagan Mission: Historiography and Culture-Heroes in the First Pentad of the Bibliotheke. Leiden. Townsend, R. F. (2001) “The Philippeion and Fourth-century Athenian Architecture,” in Palagia and Tracy (2001) 93–101. Trampedach, K. (2008) “Authority Disputed: The Seer in Homeric Epic,” in Dignas and Trampedach (2008) 207–30. Trampedach, K. (2020) “Staging Charisma: Alexander and Divination,” in Trampedach and Meeus (2020) 45–60. Trampedach, K. and Meeus, A. (eds) (2020) The Legitimation of Conquest: Monarchical Representation and the Art of Government in the Empire of Alexander the Great. Stuttgart. Ulanowski, K. (2016a) “The Methods of Divination Used in the Campaigns of the Assyrian Kings and Alexander the Great,” in Nawotka and Wojciechowska (2016) 59–87. Ulanowski, K. (2021) Neo-Assyrian and Greek Divination in War. Leiden. Ulanowski, K. (ed) (2016b) The Religious Aspects of War in the Ancient Near East, Greece, and Rome. Leiden. Valeva, J., Nankov, E., and Graninger, D. (eds) (2015) A Companion to Ancient Thrace. West Sussex, UK. van Wees, H. (ed) (2000) War and Violence in Ancient Greece. London. Veyne, P. (1999) “Prodiges, divination et peur des dieux chez Plutarchque.” Revue de l’Histoire des Religions 216: 437–42. von den Hoff, R. (2020) “Alexander’s Dedications to the Gods: Sacred Space, Pious Practice and Public Legitimition,” in Trampedach and Meeus (2020) 99–121.

476

Reames

Wallace, R. and Harris, E. (eds) (1996) Transitions to Empire: Essay in Greco-Roman History, 360–146 B.C. in Honor of E. Badian. Norman, OK. Waterfield, R. (trans) (2019) Diodorus of Sicily, The Library, Books 16–20: Philip II, Alexander the Great, and the Successors. Oxford. Wheatley, P. and Baynham, E. (eds) (2015) East and West in the World Empire of Alexander: Essays in Honour of Brian Bosworth. Oxford. Worthington, I. (ed) (1994) Ventures into Greek History. Oxford. Yardley, J. C. (trans) (1994) Justin. Epitome of the Philippic History of Pompeius Trogus. R. Develin, intro. & notes. Atlanta.

Part 6 Nature of Command

∵

Chapter 18

Relationship of King and Army Carol J. King 1

The Nature of Macedonian Kingship

The Macedonian king was by tradition the commander of the army. He led from the front, inspiring by example and taking similar risks to his person as did the men he led. Philip II suffered at least four serious war wounds, of which one was the loss of an eye when he was struck in the face by an arrow during the siege of Methone, another a blow to the right leg that left him with a permanent limp.1 Alexander III suffered no fewer than six severe wounds, of which the most serious was his lung being punctured by an arrow during a siege along the Indus River, a wound that at the time threatened to be fatal and two and half years later when he died of a fever was surely a lingering complication.2 Perdiccas III, Philip’s immediate predecessor, died on the battlefield along with some 4,000 of his men in 360 BCE.3 Whether any of the earlier kings met a similar fate we do not know, as the evidence for military engagements prior to Philip II is sparse: what little there is for the Classical period lacks detail and for the Archaic period it is all but non-existent. Mutual risk in battle is at the core of the king’s relationship with his army. The relationship was also one of shared hardships on campaign, and for Philip and Alexander, of shared privilege of leadership—the sharing of military command, as necessary, with their generals and officers—and of shared spoils of victory. The relationship was reciprocal and highly personal. Echoes of Homeric arete, a term Diodorus (16.1.4, 1.6, 2.3, 85.6) uses when describing Philip, resonate aptly. Although it is a commonplace to compare Macedonian and Homeric kingship,4 some similarities are worth reiterating. Firstly, both societies have “several levels of political entities.”5 In Macedonia, this means that in addition to a few poleis there were several tribal districts with their own 1 Dem. 18.67; Didymus In Dem. 11.22 (cols. 12.40–13.12); Diod. Sic. 16.34.5; see Riginos 1994. 2 Plut. Mor. 327a; Arr. Anab. 6.10.1–2; Curt. 9.5.9–10; see Anson (2020) 29 for a fuller list with references. 3 All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated. 4 Carlier (2000) 259; Anson (2020) 17. 5 Carlier (2000) 260. He discusses both similarities and differences.

© Carol J. King, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_020

480

King

ruling dynasties that, before Philip, came at times somewhat under the sway of an overall federal authority of the Argead king. In Philp’s time, these Upper Macedonia districts were consolidated under his rule and contributed both soldiers and officers to his army. Secondly, both societies have assemblies of the army in which individuals have the right of free speech, and in neither case is that assembly constitutional.6 In Macedonia, the Argead king summons, presides over, and dismisses the assembly at his own discretion. Thirdly, in companionship with the king are a group of hetairoi, a word that in the Homeric context “always conveys the idea of a close link of friendship and loyalty.”7 Such similarities are usually considered archaisms of Macedonian kingship. Yet if we are to see in Homeric epic a reflection of early Archaic political thinking, and take into account that early Argead kingship emerges in the Archaic period, then the comment of Sarpedon to Glaucus (Il. 12.310–28) as to why the two of them are held in honor by the people as the rulers of their land may be applied to Argead kingship: it is because they fight and risk their lives leading the way in the front line of battle. The Macedonian king holds his position of power largely by virtue of his prowess as a war leader, but his position comes with a responsibility, for he is like the Homeric leader who “owes his privileges (materially and ideally) to the community and must justify them through good leadership.”8 Good leadership involves listening to members of the community, many of whom serve as soldiers and officers in the army, and seeking advice from community participants. Just as Homeric war leaders meet to hash things over in council, so does the Macedonian king consult with his army officers and other elites. “The [Homeric] leader is not formally obliged to heed their opinion but if he ignores it and fails, he is in trouble.”9 The Macedonian king, likewise, is not obliged to heed opinion or advice. Alexander purportedly fails to heed more often than not the advice of his second-in-command, though his choices in opposition to that advice almost always meet with success. When any of his council of hetairoi and commanders advise against his will, he usually becomes exceedingly angry (e.g., Curt. 7.7.5–29). Sometimes he heeds advice, sometimes he does not, but he continues to seek it. While the general consensus is that Argead kings were not under any constitutional constraints, they were not entirely free of accountability either, for aristocratic elites did dominate society and their support for the king was 6 King (2010) 373–75; Anson (2020) 29–44; contra Hatzopoulos (2020) 103–16. 7 Carlier (2000) 262. 8 Raaflaub (2013) 76. On the balance of privilege and responsibility during Alexander’s reign, see Heckel (2003). 9 Raaflaub (2013) 77.

Relationship of King and Army

481

critical to his maintaining power.10 The king cultivated a relationship of reciprocal benefit and loyalty with these powerful landowners, men wealthy enough to own a horse, who in reciprocity for inclusion in the king’s social milieu, his hunts and symposia, and in his council, served as the principal military force. That a small force of cavalry, perhaps not more than 800, would venture to skirmish against an invading Thracian army of some 150,000 of which roughly one third were cavalry, which they did in 429 (Thuc. 2.98, 100.5), is testament to both their skill and their loyalty to the king. At the time, Macedonia had no regular infantry to field in support of cavalry. Therefore, early kings were heavily dependent on their cavalry, and thus on the loyalty of the aristocratic elites in a somewhat egalitarian relationship.11 Notably, neither the king nor his elite appears to have held any official title prior to Philip. The limitation imposed on the king by a powerful elite surely was one stimulus for the calculated royal effort to improve the infantry and develop a middle class which would act as a counter-balance to the influence of the hetairoi.12 Although Archelaus introduced reforms to both cavalry and infantry,13 and the debate over the introduction of the pezhetairoi or Foot Companions continues,14 the major reform to infantry is not evident until Philip’s reign. (Demosthenes 2.17 is the earliest attestation of pezhetairoi.) If Philip is not responsible for the concept, he certainly adopted and effected the elevation of an infantry corps to the status of “Companion” akin to the relationship which the hetairoi cavalry enjoyed with the king, doing so for the purpose of and succeeding in gaining alternate loyal support. More than a dozen years after Philip’s death, this infantry unit at Babylon in 323, still loyal to Philip, demanded that Alexander’s successor be Philip’s other son Arrhidaeus, despite his incapacity for the role, and renamed him Philip. 2

Philip and His Army

The defeat of Perdiccas III, Philip’s brother and predecessor, in battle against the Illyrians in 360 resulted not only in the loss of the king’s life and more than 10 Not under constitutional constraints: e.g., Borza (1992) 236–41; Greenwalt (2015b) 337; accountability: Ellis (1976) 24; support of elites: Heckel (2016) 243–45. See Roisman (2012) on royal power. 11 Sage (1996) 163–65. 12 Greenwalt (2015a) 41–43. 13 Thuc. 2.100.2; cp. Xen. Hell. 5.2.38: Amyntas III must hire mercenaries. 14 Erskine (1989) 345: the nature and origins of the pezhetairoi “have been the subject of much controversy and confusion.” See subsequently Hammond (1991); Anson (2009); Bosworth (2010); Greenwalt (2015a); Billows (2018) 104–16.

482

King

4,000 Macedonian fighting men dead on the field but also dealt a devastating blow to army morale. Diodorus (16.2.5) says those who survived, “having been struck with panic, became exceeding fearful of the military forces of the Illyrians and had no heart to carry on the war.” It was in, and to, this crisis that Philip succeeded, with the Paeonians disdainfully plundering his territory in the north and the Illyrians “mustering large forces and making ready to march into Macedonia” from the northwest (Diod. Sic. 16.2.6). That Philip himself was “not stricken with panic” (16.3.1) is demonstrated by his mainly diplomatic cleverness in dealing with threats on multiple fronts simultaneously, and the competency he displayed under pressure will have done as much to help restore the army’s morale as did his speeches in the assemblies. Diodorus is all too brief and telescoping in his description of Philip’s dealings with the military, saying (16.3.1), “he built up morale by improving the organization of forces, by issuing suitable weapons, and by holding constant drills.” The reforms generally attributed to Philip are the organization of the pezhetairoi, the issuing of the sarissa, the cavalry wedge, and perfection of the oblique angle of battle. Many historians suggest these reforms were introduced gradually over an extended period of time, but Philip had already begun to establish a personal relationship with military forces even before the disaster in 360.15 Having spent some years of his youth as a hostage in Thebes, he was able to observe close-up the tactics and effective leadership qualities of the great Theban generals Epaminondas, Pelopidas, and Pammenes.16 When he was released from hostageship after the accession of Perdiccas in 365, he brought this valuable experience back to Macedonia and during Perdiccas’ reign he governed part of the kingdom in the east in command of a military force (Ath. 11.506e–f). In the immediate aftermath of Perdiccas’ death, when the defeated Macedonian army was, as Diodorus (16.3.1) claims, in dire straits, lacking not only heart for the prospect of another Illyrian invasion but also the resources necessary to meet it, Philip bought by means of diplomacy and bribery a breathing space, both in the Paeonian situation and in the Illyrian war. This gave him enough time to recruit and train, and within weeks he was able to test his rejuvenation efforts against the pretender Argaeus, an Argead returning from exile who attempted with a few thousand mercenaries and Athenian backing to set himself up, or reinstate himself, as king at Aegae (Diod. 15 Anson (2020) 12, 53. He argues that Philip introduced reforms rapidly at the beginning of his reign. 16 Diod. Sic. 15.67; Just. Epit. 6.9.7, 7.5.2; Plut. Pel. 26.5. Hammond (1997); Buckler and Beck (2008) 281–82; Worthington (2014) 28; Anson (2020) 55, 60 (comparing the pezhetairoi to the Theban Sacred Band.)

Relationship of King and Army

483

Sic. 16.3.5–6). Philip’s military success in defeating Argaeus gave his fledgling army confidence both in his generalship qualities and in their own ability to face the greater external powers threatening the kingdom at this time. It was by degrees that Philip built up troop morale and earned confidence. As soon as the death of the Paeonian king nullified the recent peace agreement, Philip led his revamped Macedonian army into battle against the Paeonians, whose defeat on this occasion was so resounding that he forced them into a subjugated alliance. Before the euphoria of that victory had time to dissipate, he led the combined army against the Illyrians under king Bardylis (who was in control of some of the cities in Upper Macedonia), these being the same Illyrians who had killed his brother and demoralized the survivors. The two armies were roughly equal in numbers of infantry and cavalry but the Macedonians proved superior, with the cavalry attacking the enemy flank and rear while the best of the Macedonian infantry, which Philip had recruited, equipped, and trained and which he now commanded in person on the right, made a frontal assault. The final outcome was more than 7,000 Illyrians dead on the field and the rest driven out of Upper Macedonia altogether, and permanently; a victory nothing short of astounding.17 Philip won great renown among the Macedonians for the victory (Diod. Sic. 16.8.1). He had avenged King Perdiccas’ military defeat and death and he had relieved the Macedonians of a long-time threat on their northwestern border. Under Philip’s command, as victory was added to victory, the Macedonian army also won great renown. There is only one known occasion on which the army lost confidence in Philip. In the summer of 353, the king marched his army into Thessaly at Thessalian request against the tyrant Lycophron, defeated Lycophron’s Phocian allies, 7,000 under command of Phayllus, and drove them out of Thessaly (Diod. Sic. 16.35.1–2). But when Phayllus’ brother Onomarchus led his full force, perhaps 20,000 foot and 500 horse (based on Diod. Sic. 16.35.4), into Thessaly against Philip, the Macedonian army was defeated in two battles. We have details only about one, probably the second defeat, which was catastrophic for Philip. Philip’s now veteran phalanx was lured into a trap in a crescent-shaped recess of mountains on which Onomarchus had stationed artillery in concealment (Polyaenus, Strat. 2.38.2). Under the simultaneous hail of stones and frontal assault from higher ground, the phalanx, after many had been killed and wounded, executed a difficult retreat. Diodorus (16.35.2) says the Macedonians, with danger all around them, deserted, but that Philip with difficulty encouraged the majority to obey his command. “Philip had 17 Diod. Sic. 16.4.2–7; Just. Epit. 7.6.7; Frontin. Str. 2.3.2. Billows (1995) 14; Sage (1996) 167–68; Anson (2020) 60–62. See also Wrightson in this volume.

484

King

been out-generalled and out-fought.”18 Philip allegedly explained the retreat from battle and subsequent withdrawal all the way to Macedonia by saying, “I did not flee, but just like the rams, I walked backwards in order to ram again the harder.”19 Whatever really happened—an all-out rout or mass desertion or a disorderly retreat—as Philip began the hard work of restoring the army’s confidence in his generalship, the saying, if authentic, would have reflected the official spin he put on the enemy’s taunts that he had fled the field: the withdrawal was his tactical maneuver in a longer-term plan that would culminate in the defeat of Onomarchus. It was a temporary setback, rather than outright defeat. And Philip will have needed to impress upon his troops that the security of the kingdom, security which they had assured with their past victories under his command, depended upon their being able to rally behind him again and soon. A leader, even a good one, can and does make mistakes, but “the community rewards the man who is able to overcome them and re-establish unity as a condition for communal success.”20 When Philip marched his army into Thessaly against Onomarchus again the following summer, he did so with full intent to restore his military reputation, not only with the Macedonian army but also internationally. The significance of his troops wearing laurel crowns into battle as the avengers of Apollo, whose sanctuary Onomarchus and the Phocians had defiled and robbed, is therefore two-fold. Philip could instill courage and confidence in his soldiers by having them fight as the god’s own army, and at the same time he could show himself to the greater Greek world as the pious avenger of the god.21 It matters not that the Thessalian cavalry were largely instrumental in Philip’s victory at the Crocus Field in 352; the Macedonians will have recovered their former glory as the superior military force. As for Philip’s treatment of Onomarchus’ corpse and the drowning of 3,000 fleeing Phocians and mercenaries (Diod. Sic. 16.35.5–6, 61.2, cf. Paus. 10.2.5), one may wonder whether Philip gave free reign to the blood-lust of the Macedonian victors in order to purge any lingering humiliation over their ignominious defeat the year before. Philip’s relationship with his army was built on his successful generalship and on the reputation the Macedonians gained through their success under 18 Buckler (1989) 67–68. 19 Polyaenus, Strat. 2.38.2, translation Buckler (1989) 68. See also Ellis (1976) 77–80; Worthington (2008) 58–59; Anson (2020) 66–67. 20 Raaflaub (2013) 76. 21 Just. Epit. 8.2.1–7; Diod. Sic. 16.35.3–6 (he does not mention laurel or Apollo but see 38.1–2). See Buckler (1989) 73–77; Cawkwell (1978) 66; Ellis (1976) 82–83.

Relationship of King and Army

485

his command. Discipline was rigorous (Frontin. Str. 4.1.6, 4.2.4) and disciplinary action at times enforced (Frontin. Str. 2.8.14, Ael. VH 14.48). However, the charge of Demosthenes (2.17–18) and Justin (Epit. 9.8.17) that the king took all the credit for himself and would not share power is hardly borne out by evidence. The later histories of Alexander especially present an overwhelming view that Philip was loved and admired by the army that he had created and nurtured. Time and again Alexander was reminded of that fact by Philip’s veterans, and on one occasion he even reminded them. Philip won the loyalty of soldiers collectively and individually by his “kindly” treatment and generous rewards (Diod. Sic. 16.3.3, 53.3, 75.4, 86.6). Land grants to foot soldiers who, like the wealthier cavalry, were now the king’s “Companions” had given rise to a middle class that broke some of the power of the aristocratic hetairoi. Such grants made peasants and herdsmen “exceedingly loyal” both to the monarch and to the institution of monarchy.22 However, Philip’s Companion Cavalry remained the striking force in the major battles, while members of the greater body of Companions served as officers and filled administrative posts. On the field, the king shared command with several skilled officers and his exceptional general Parmenion, who led independent campaigns as early as summer 356 (Plut. Alex. 3.5). Off the field, the king sported, drank, and dined with his hetairoi. Though most references in the sources are deprecatory, the camaraderie on such occasions—usually celebrations of victories and other momentous events—served to strengthen the bond between king and army.23 His death was a grievous shock to the army on the eve of the invasion of Asia. 3

Alexander’s Relations with Philip’s Army

Alexander at the time of his succession, according to Diodorus (17.2.2), was not uniformly respected due to his young age. His succession was certainly not universally favored,24 and with the army poised to invade Asia some senior advisors may well have questioned whether the young Alexander was ready to take overall command of such a major military undertaking. Yet he was not much younger than Philip had been when he succeeded to a crisis situation (political and military) and probably not any younger than Perdiccas III at his accession. Moreover, Alexander already had experience with military 22 Anson (2008) 17–18; see also Meeus in this volume. 23 Anson (2020) 7–9. 24 Plut. Alex. 1.1; Mor. 327c. On political opposition, see Bosworth (1971); Ellis (1982); Worthington (2014) 122; Heckel (2016) 287–90, (2017) 73.

486

King

command and success in battle to his credit, albeit his campaign against the Maedi at age 16 in all likelihood was under the mentorship of Philip’s regent Antipater, and his command on the right wing at Chaeronea in 338 at age 18 was under close supervision of Philip’s most important commanders (Plut. Alex. 9.1–2; Just. Epit. 9.1.8; Diod. Sic. 16.86.1). On the latter occasion, most historians suppose that Alexander commanded the Companion Cavalry. Therefore, the cavalry probably had begun to acclimatize to Alexander as a commander well before his father’s death. But it is the Balkan campaign after Philip’s assassination that serves to build genuine confidence in his leadership qualities and military capabilities, not only with Philip’s commanders but also with the rank and file, some of whom were not Macedonian. Although the sources refer to the army as Macedonian, the term is used loosely or broadly to include foreign as well as native contingents. A breakdown of the units deployed for the battle at Gaugamela in 331 demonstrates the mixed ethnic units of both infantry and cavalry, a composition that may be applied to Philip’s army as well, given that it appears to have been essentially Philip’s army that Alexander took to Asia.25 Following Philip’s death, unrest among the foreign units posed real potential for defection (Just. Epit. 11.1.1–3), and that would be one reason for Alexander’s prompt march with the army into central and southern Greece (Arr. Anab. 1.1; Diod. Sic. 17.4; Just. Epit. 11.2.5). An army on the move is much more manageable than one sitting idle with time to ruminate and gossip. As Curtius (6.2.15) puts it, in reference to unrest among the Macedonian troops in 330 when they heard the Greek allies had been dismissed, rumor is the vice of an idle army. On another occasion, in order to diffuse the army’s near panic following the eclipse at the Tigris in 331, when facing the overwhelming numbers of the Persian forces, Alexander got his army up and on the march in the middle of the night (Curt. 4.10.2–8).26 In 336, as Philip had done in 360, Alexander immediately called an assembly of the army and with a careful speech alleviated some of the turmoil and uncertainty of the moment (Just. Epit. 11.1.8). Following that, like Philip again, he held regular musterings of the soldiers under arms in drills and military exercises and “made them ready to comply with his orders” (Diod. Sic. 17.2.3). Curtius (3.2.13–14) describes (through the mouth of the Athenian Charidemus to Darius) the efficiency of the Macedonian phalanx in action, the phalanx which Philip had trained “to stand close-packed man to man and weapon to weapon, tensed toward the 25 Philip’s army: Dem. 9.49; the army Alexander took to Asia: Diod. Sic. 17.9.3, 17.3–5; on Gaugamela, see Romm (2010a) 346–47. 26 Roisman (2015) 83.

Relationship of King and Army

487

signal of their instructor” (as at Arr. Anab. 4.26.3–4), “taught to march in rank and keep order, to change wings and shift order of battle, soldiers every bit as skilled as their leaders.” With the march south soon followed by the Balkan campaign, Alexander kept the army on the move, as it was accustomed to be under Philip. Foremost, Alexander needed to prove himself to be not simply competent but exceptional in the role of overall military commander, one worthy (Arr. Anab. 4.11.5) to lead an army that had come to pride itself on nearly unbroken success under Philip’s generalship. Alexander put to the test both the army’s skill and willingness to comply with his orders on his campaign in Thrace and Illyria in 335. It was critical for Alexander, first of all, to establish good relations with the senior commanders, from whom the second-tier officers would have been accustomed to take orders and transmit to the rank and file, and, second, to assert his own authority in the position of overall command. At times he gave orders to the senior commanders (e.g., Arr. Anab. 1.2.5, 4.2), at times to the rank and file through unit officers (e.g., 1.1.8), and at other times he gave orders to the rank and file directly (e.g., 1.2.4, 4.1). The main army units in 335 were led by commanders probably appointed by Philip, most prominently two sons of Parmenion, Philip’s foremost general for more than two decades who was at this time in Asia Minor with the advance force.27 Philotas son of Parmenion was commanding cavalry from Upper Macedonia and is later identified as the overall commander of the Companion Cavalry.28 Nicanor son of Parmenion was commanding the phalanx, as Arrian terms it, but is identified as the overall commander of the hypaspist infantry (i.e., not the heavy phalanx) in the three major battles against the Persians in Asia (Arr. Anab. 1.4.2, 1.14.2, 2.8.3, 3.11.9). The Balkan campaign provided a familiar theater of war for Alexander to cultivate his relationships with these senior commanders by proving his exceptional ability as a military strategist. At the same time, he instilled confidence in file leaders and the rank and file, on one occasion by expertly executing drills to intimidate the enemy (Arr. Anab. 1.6.1–4), that he was not too young for supreme command of the war in Asia. His claim that the king was changed in name only (Diod. Sic. 17.2.2) was not mere youthful boasting.

27 Advance force: Diod. Sic. 16.91.2, 17.2.4–6; Just. Epit. 9.5.8; at the Hellespont in 334: Arr. Anab. 1.11.6; Diod. Sic. 17.17.3; Philip’s foremost general: Plut. Mor. 177c. Heckel (2016) 44–46. 28 Arr. Anab. 1.2.5; Diod. Sic. 17.17.4; Heckel (2016) 52–53 suggests Alexander promoted him before 334.

488 4

King

Alexander and His High Command

At no point during his reign, after the initial business of his father’s funeral, was Alexander ever apart from his army, or some part thereof. Consequently, he had daily relations with the senior commanders as well as regular relations with the second-tier officers and at times direct relations with the rank and file, as established on the Balkan campaign. The king’s relationship with the more senior commanders often involved social and political situations, however, so it is often a separate matter from his relationship with the rank and file, though that too, eventually, spilled over into the political arena. The discussion which follows largely separates the two. Alexander does not appear to have reformed Philip’s successful military structure before crossing to Asia (Diod. Sic. 17.8), and those veterans of Philip, commanders and troops, were crucial to his success in the three major battles with Darius’ forces. Nicholas Hammond attributes Alexander’s victory at Gaugamela, for example, “in large part to the complete understanding and trust between Alexander and his commanding officers, which resulted from their being constantly in one another’s company in and out of action.”29 Hammond argues that there is no indication that Alexander had a grudge against Parmenion, though conflicting accounts of the battle at Gaugamela, namely whether a message from Parmenion hard-pressed on the left reached the king—and angered him because it foiled his pursuit of Darius—and whether Alexander did or did not rescue Parmenion,30 might suggest otherwise. Multiple references in the sources to his rejection of Parmenion’s advice, mainly on strategy, appear to reflect the king’s efforts to diminish Parmenion’s contribution to the army’s success. But it is difficult, as Waldemar Heckel notes, to determine whether Alexander or the subsequent tradition tarnished Parmenion’s memory.31 In the context of late 331, at Susa, a month after the battle at Gaugamela, Alexander awarded to his second-in-command the gift of Bagoas’ magnificent house, clearly a reward for the general’s contribution to the victory.32 Moreover, it is noteworthy that Alexander did not always reject Parmenion’s advice, but when he did reject it, the outcome usually proved 29 Hammond (1996) 149. 30 Arr. Anab. 3.15.1–3; Diod. Sic. 17.60.7–8; Curt. 4.16.1–7, 18–19; Plut. Alex. 33.6–7; cf. Polyaenus, Strat. 4.3.6. For discussion, see (of many) Fuller (1958) 174–80; Bosworth (1980a); 309–11; Hammond (1996) 146–49. 31 Heckel (2016) 46–51. Carney (2000) 264–73 offers a thorough discussion, with references, of Parmenion and the “advice theme.” 32 Hostility: Curt. 4.16.3; Plut. Alex. 33.6–7; Bagoas’ house: Plut. Alex. 39.6; Alexander’s continued trust: Arr. Anab. 3.26.1.

Relationship of King and Army

489

Parmenion to be wrong.33 If the purpose of such anecdotes, which Elizabeth Carney sees as deriving from Greek literary tradition and as such argues that not one “provides usable historical information” (though I would argue not every account of Parmenion’s advice, whether taken or not, is anecdotal),34 is to illustrate Alexander’s heroism, any implied friction between the king and his second-in-command at Gaugamela is therefore possibly if not probably a fiction. It has been argued that Alexander purposely offloaded some of Philip’s principal men in Asia Minor so as to rid himself of strong political factions,35 so it is notable that he retained Parmenion and sons beyond the conquest of Persia and death of Darius in 330, soon after which Nicanor died of illness.36 There is no question that all three senior commanders were instrumental in Alexander’s military successes to that date. But that fact alone, even if they never reminded him of it, though Philotas allegedly made such boasts,37 evidently became distasteful or, worse, unbearable to Alexander. Setting aside, for a moment, Philotas’ trial and execution with the attendant circumstances and consequences of the charge of treason, Alexander’s reactive spontaneous killing in 328 of Cleitus, commander of the Royal Squadron of the Companions and one of Philip’s men (Curt. 8.1.20), is testimony to the king’s intolerance of anyone drawing attention to their own worth or the worth of Philip and Philip’s generals to the diminution of himself (Curt. 8.1.22).38 Yet it is interesting that in Curtius’ account (8.1.22–52), the quarrel begins with Alexander’s excessive boasting of his own accomplishments, true as they were, then progresses to his belittling of Philip’s contribution to the victory at Chaeronea, which was certainly unjust, and continues with his claim that he once saved Philip’s life, when the latter was wounded during a riot between some Macedonian soldiers and Greek mercenaries (an episode not attested elsewhere), but that Philip would never admit that he owed his life to his son. The claim is significant as a parallel to Craterus’ alleged advice to the king that Parmenion would never tolerate owing his son’s life to Alexander were Alexander to pardon Philotas (Curt. 6.8.7). At this point, Cleitus, understanding that according

33 Carney (2000) 272; Heckel (2016) 47–48 with n. 39 listing passages negative and favorable. 34 So also Roisman (2015) 78. 35 Heckel (2003) 210: Antipatrid-Antigonid faction. Ellis (1982) 72 describes Alexander’s “unwilling reliance upon Philip’s men” as “a lasting deadweight.” 36 Heckel (2003) 219: Alexander also shed some of the Parmenion faction before late 330. 37 Curt. 6.8.2–3 (to Alexander); Plut. Alex. 48.3–49.2 (in private). 38 Tritle (2003) 137 describes Alexander’s reaction as “hyper-vigilant.” His treatment offers a veteran’s perspective on the Cleitus episode.

490

King

to Macedonian custom he has the right of free speech at the symposium,39 makes a reproachful comment to those seated near him. The king catches the drift but not the words, so Cleitus speaks up with a defense of Philip and Parmenion, along with praise of Atarrhias, a commander of hypaspists, as well as of Alexander of Epirus, the king’s uncle (Curt. 8.1.33, 38). Cleitus’ rebuttal comes likely as much from his displeasure at having been recently offloaded by appointment to the governorship of Bactria (Curt. 8.1.19, 35, Arr. Anab. 4.15.5) as from the wine he had consumed.40 Other sources give appreciably different accounts (Arrian (4.8–9) blames Cleitus but censures Alexander), but the oddity of the grouping of names that Cleitus mentions lends some authenticity to this version. What we have in Curtius, the so-called “vulgate,” is a critical view not only of the king’s culpability in the death of Cleitus but also of the repercussions for the king’s relationship with his senior commanders, whose freedom of speech (isegoria) is consequently suppressed, perhaps by prudence rather than by order (Curt. 8.4.30, but cp. 12.18). Cleitus, like Parmenion and sons, had played a crucial role in Alexander’s overall military success. Alexander had relied on his skill and experience as leader of the Royal Squadron of Companion Cavalry from the outset, had trusted him with command of half the total of the Companions following the elimination of Philotas, and, moreover, owed his life to Cleitus, who had defended him at the Granicus. Like his debt to Parmenion and Philotas, this too perhaps had become unbearable.41 This is not to say that Alexander’s killing of Cleitus was premeditated, for it certainly was not. Cleitus’ killing sent shock waves top to bottom through the hierarchy of the army, the most horrified likely being those nearest the top and closest to the king: those who witnessed it and could not prevent it, especially the elite Bodyguards. While the army, under the prompting of the Bodyguards, voted to exculpate the king by passing a decree officially justifying the killing (Curt. 8.2.12), there must have been a period of uneasiness during which the king had to restore or reassure trust between himself and his high command. 5

Grievances, Unrest and Discipline

When the conspiracy of the Paides (Pages or Youths) was revealed some months later, it was clear that resentment of the king ran deep at other levels. 39 Curt. 8.2.2, 7; Polyb. 5.27.6. Adams (1986) 52: “the Macedonians felt entitled to speak their minds, and their monarchs for the most part felt obliged to listen.” 40 So also Heckel (2009) 78. 41 On Alexander’s relations with his senior command, see Heckel (2003), (2009), (2016) 243–29.

Relationship of King and Army

491

In the speech attributed to Hermolaus when on trial for spearheading the conspiracy, although the affront that prompted his conspiring was personal humiliation from having been disciplined—deprived of his horse and flogged for having precipitated the king’s strike of a boar on the hunt42—he denunciates the deaths of Attalus, Philotas, Parmenion, Alexander Lyncestes, and Cleitus; he criticizes the spilling of soldiers’ blood for the enrichment of Alexander; and he objects to the adoption of Persian customs and Alexander’s rejection of Philip as his father (Curt. 8.7.1–6; Arr. Anab. 4.14.2). The “voice” of grievance, however inauthentic the speech may be, in spirit is undoubtedly accurate, and it comes from the younger elite in closest service to the king and in training for future service as officers. It was not, as sometimes portrayed in the sources, simply the objection of the old guard of Philip to Alexander’s policies in contrast to the younger generals and officers supporting Alexander. The Paides were certainly not part of the old guard, though likely many of their fathers were. Erigyius was not young (Curt. 7.4.34) but he was loyal to Alexander. Coenus also was not young and was every bit as loyal to Alexander as he had been, presumably, to Philip. When he spoke up at the Hyphasis, he spoke ostensibly not for himself or the higher command, but rather for the Macedonian rank and file.43 As Lee Brice defines the categories of military unrest, the episode at the Hyphasis constitutes an “expression of grievances,” by which he means the situation was non-violent and included both officers and soldiers.44 Coenus, using Alexander’s own method of persuasion, offered the king advice based on his understanding of the mood and morale of the regular Macedonian soldiers. (The allied contingents were not present at the assembly, were not Coenus’ concern, and Alexander claimed they would follow him even if the Macedonians did not (Curt. 9.2.33).) The king was not unaware of his army’s low morale (Diod. Sic. 17.94.1–3; Curt. 9.2.11; Arr. Anab. 5.25.3), but in the past he had been able to revive it. It is hard to imagine that he was unaware of the mood of his higher command, though it appears he was surprised both by Coenus laying bare his sentiments and by the other commanders supporting Coenus with their silence. Thus, Coenus did, in effect, speak for both officers and soldiers. As Ed Anson states, “Alexander had clearly lost the support of his closest military companions.”45 Oratory, his tool in previous situations when

42 Arr. Anab. 4.13.2–4; Curt. 8.6.7–8; Carney (2008) 155–58. 43 Badian (2000) 73; though I do not share his “sinister” take; see also Holt (1999). Speech: Curt. 9.3.5–15; Arr. Anab. 5.27.2–9. On the authenticity of the speeches in the sources, see Anson (2015) 71; I share his view that this episode was not fabricated. 44 Brice (2015) 75; see also Carney (1996) 31–33 and Roisman (2015) 81–84 on verbal protests, and Brice in this volume. 45 Anson (2015) 74; see also Carney (1996) 36.

492

King

the army expressed a grievance or was reluctant to follow where the king led, failed Alexander on this occasion.46 The impasse at the Hyphasis in 326 was the culmination of a disconnect between the king’s will and the will of the army that had its roots in those earlier situations going back at least as far as events of 330.47 Darius’ death had already marked a turning point in relations between king and army, for it put a terminus to the war of revenge first proposed by Philip, a terminus Alexander formally acknowledged with his dismissal of the Greek allies. At this point, and for the next three years, Alexander’s much aggrieving adoption of Persian customs, his incorporation of Persians into the court entourage and his attempt to introduce proskynesis, were indeed disagreeable to many of his officers and courtiers. The veteran soldiers of Philip, according to Curtius (6.6.1–12), also openly despised the changes and talked about it in camp. These were matters of court protocol, however, that should have had little impact on regular military operations, that is to say, on the rank and file who were not frequent participants in the court milieu. Surely what mattered more to the Macedonian common soldiers in the summer of 330 was the realization that the end of the war of revenge was not the terminus of Alexander’s warring. After a winter spent ransacking and burning Persepolis, they were ready to go home. The pursuit of Darius was a reasonable extension, but beyond the Persian king’s death, they saw no justification for a continued campaign. So, when Alexander realized that his Macedonians were packing for home, mentally if not literally, he resorted to two methods of control which he used on other similar occasions to quell unrest in the army: oratory and action. A speech to the officers resulted in their guaranteeing the obedience of their individual units; then, after asking the unit officers to prepare their soldiers for the plans he was about to announce, he assembled the army and spoke persuasively of the necessity of finishing the unfinished business of hunting down and punishing Bessus “… a mere four days’ march, he said” (Curt. 6.3.16). Oratory was swiftly followed by action; the army was up and marching into Hyrcania.48

46 Carney (1996) 28–29. 47 I follow Anson in rejecting both the view that Alexander staged the “mutiny” (Anson 2015, offers a detailed discussion of Spann 1999, and Heckel 2003) and the suggestion that it is a literary myth; see Anson (2015) 66 n. 6 for his comment on Howe and Müller (2012). See also Brice in this volume. 48 Diod. Sic. 17.74.3; Curt. 6.2.15–4.2; Just. Epit. 12.3.2–4; Plut. Alex. 47.1–2; cp. Arr. Anab. 3.19.5–6, 23.1; cf. Polyaenus, Strat. 4.3.19. On Alexander’s use of oratory as a tool, see Carney (1996) 28–29. On this episode see Brice in this volume.

Relationship of King and Army

493

The capture of Bessus, from the perspective of Alexander who upon the death of Darius should have secured his undisputed position as king of Asia, was indeed business that had to be finished, for Bessus was disputing the kingship by claiming the title for himself.49 The prospect of a prolonged campaign combined with Alexander’s seeming rejection of Macedonian customs in favor of Persian protocols elicited some “malicious talk” throughout the army. Brian Bosworth has argued that the first introduction of Persian ceremonial was limited to the crisis arising from Bessus’ claim to the throne.50 However, the words put into the mouths of Cleitus and Hermolaus more than two years later suggest the grievance was ongoing, though it does seem to have been less of an issue during the Indian campaign. If stories of Alexander censuring camp talk by confiscating and reading private letters meant for folks back home have any historical basis, then it may well be true that he established a disciplinary corps as a method of control to keep those most vocally critical from stirring up unrest in the rest of the army (Curt. 7.2.35–38; Just. Epit. 12.5.2–8; Diod. Sic. 17.80.4.) In so doing, he would have revealed that he distrusted his soldiers, and that would have contributed to the growing tensions. The disciplinary corps is said to have been formed in the aftermath of the elimination of Philotas and Parmenion, and in that context it demonstrates the impact of their removal on the morale of the army. Scholarly discussion of the elimination of Philotas has revolved around whether there was a conspiracy of Philotas against the king or a conspiracy of the king against Philotas,51 with less attention being given to the underlying issue of loyalty within the ranks of the army.52 The timing of the trials at Phrada, the capital of Drangiana, just a few months after the unrest arising from the dismissal of the Greek allies, is not without significance. Although Philotas was very near the top of the hierarchy of military command, his own arrogance, if there is any substance to Curtius 6.11.1–4, may have left his case somewhat unsympathetic among some of the rank and file, at least initially (7.1.1). Parmenion and Philotas, as Curtius (6.11.39) correctly states, “could not have been condemned without the indignation of the whole army.” Some 6,000 Macedonian soldiers were summoned by the king, and their perception of the charge against and culpability of Philotas was fully under Alexander’s control. Alexander’s personal ambition to continue the campaign east was clearly not popular with the rank and file, and probably it was not popular either with many of the officers. Curtius’ speeches 49 50 51 52

Bosworth (1980b) 6. Bosworth (1980b) 8. On conspiracies, see the discussions of Badian (2000) 64–69 and Heckel (2003) 210–19. On the connection between service conditions and this incident see Brice in this volume.

494

King

are full of rhetoric, yet the sentiments he or his source puts into the mouths of the defendants in 330—Philotas and his friend Amyntas son of Andromenes (Alexander Lyncestes, brought to trial after more than three years under arrest, was speechless)—surely reflect “the strand of personal relations among the men around Alexander.”53 One of the charges brought against Amyntas was his use of malicious words in opposition to the king, or, more precisely, to the king’s plan to push farther east (Curt. 7.1.4, 21–25). This opposition, in Curtius’ view and his sources’ view, whatever words were actually spoken by Amyntas, is at the core of the string of trials.54 Philotas had such power and influence with the cavalry that there was a potential that he could incite them to protest against going any farther, as the army protested at the Hyphasis. Were that to happen, there would be the danger that the infantry long loyal to Parmenion (Curt. 7.2.31, 33) and openly discontented would do the same. Heckel states, “the argument that the army would rally round Parmenion makes sense only in the short run.”55 Yet what reason other than the potential they posed in competition for the army’s loyalty could there have been for Alexander to eliminate the two of them at this time, unless we believe, and I do not, that they were plotting regicide? Some of Alexander’s closest friends may have been jealous of Philotas’ position and power, but what should have mattered most to Alexander was the army’s loyalty: it must not be divided or wavering, it must be to him alone, the king. Amyntas in his speech refers to a soldier’s oath (Curt. 7.1.29) but there is no other evidence for it. The overseer of Parmenion’s execution was a close personal friend of the general, Polydamus, whose sons Alexander kept in custody at Phrada until the deed was done (Curt. 7.2.11–27). Polydamus’ role is reminiscent of the role played by Parmenion in the elimination of Attalus—the latter, Parmenion’s son-in-law and chief political opponent of Alexander in 336, was killed with, at the very least, Parmenion’s knowledge. Alexander bound these prominent men to him by demanding the highest display of loyalty, and at the same time he effectively quashed, by complicity, the most likely source of opposition among the elite to his political eliminations and executions. As the campaign unfolded, phase by phase, and the will of the army increasingly differed from the king’s will (Curt. 9.2.10–11), Alexander repeated the 53 Badian (2000) 63 n. 24. While I agree with Badian on this point about Curtius, I disagree with his arguments that paint Alexander as the conspirator. Alexander eliminates potential threats, and seditious talk is threatening. 54 Roisman (2015) 83–84: the trials were intended to remind of danger to Alexander’s life and undercut sympathy for those executed. 55 Heckel (2009) 75.

Relationship of King and Army

495

oratory method of persuading his officers and troops that further offensive was necessary and of following it up with action: at the Jaxartes when he wanted to cross to attack the Scythians but an ambush by Spitamenes had demoralized the troops (Curt. 7.7.5–29, 7.8.4–5); after the battle at the Hydaspes when some infantry were trampled to death under the feet of Porus’ elephants (Curt. 9.1.1–3); at the Hyphasis River, as mentioned, when he failed to win over not only the regular troops but even the cooperation of his officer corps (Arr. Anab. 5.29.1; Curt. 9.3.19); and subsequently when the Macedonians realized they still had hard fighting to do along the Indus as they marched downriver to the Ocean (Curt. 9.4.16–23). Despite Alexander’s “assiduous cultivation of the common soldier’s loyalty,”56 many incidents and factors had worn away at morale. The soldiers had at one point been frozen in an ice storm, several times reduced to starvation, and many times pushed to the limit of endurance.57 In the speech Arrian (5.26.7) attributes to Alexander at the Hyphasis the king says, “our share in the dangers is equal.” It was a reminder to the soldiers that he was still fulfilling the obligation of a Macedonian king to lead by example and to take the same risks. His risk-taking was such that some of his closest friends chastised him for taking more risk than a king should (Curt. 9.6.5–23). Until the Hyphasis stand-off, Alexander had always been able to inspire by example and usually could win over the troops to his harsh demands. As one example, during the late winter before Darius was found dead, when Alexander was campaigning with a small force of 1,000 cavalry and some light infantry in the interior of Persia and they came to a road blocked with snow, the troops demanded to be led back, so Alexander dismounted and led them on foot through the snow and ice, pick in hand, and hacking at the ice to make a path (Curt. 5.6.13–14). The men followed. “The army found it difficult, at least for a long time, not to do what Alexander was himself willing to do.”58 By the time Alexander reached the Hyphasis, the composition of the army had been altered considerably through attrition and reinforcements. No recruits from Macedonia had joined the army for several years, so the Macedonian component of the army at this point was significantly smaller in number than, though superior in skill to, the allied forces.59 Going back all 56 Ellis (1982) 72. For examples of rewards, relaxations, and inspiration, see Carney (1996) 25–29 and Meeus and Brice in this volume. 57 E.g., Arr. Anab. 3.28.1, 9; Curt. 8.4.4–18. On loss of morale leading to the Hyphasis unrest, see King (2018) 167–170. 58 Carney (1996) 29. 59 Arr. Anab. 5.27.5–6. Reinforcements arrived shortly after this episode, Curt. 9.3.21; see Hammond (1996) 218, 222.

496

King

the way to the Balkan campaign, Alexander had been incorporating defeated and surrendered forces into his army with no apparent objection from the Macedonians.60 Philip also had incorporated conquered Paeonians, Thracians, and Illyrians who fought as ethnic units with their own traditional weapons and tactics, without any evident objection from Macedonians. At the Hyphasis, there is no objection in Coenus’ speech (Curt. 9.3.5–15; Arr. Anab. 5.27.2–9) to Scythians, Bactrians, Dahae, and Sogdians among the forces.61 At Opis in 324, according to Arrian (7.8.2), the army had three main grievances, which had been expressed “many times before this”: Alexander’s Persian clothing, the Epigonoi equipped in Macedonian style, and foreign cavalry incorporated into the Companions. The sources do repeat the grievance about Persian clothing, but prior to Opis the other two grievances have not been mentioned. It cannot have been a secret that Alexander had a military training program for 30,000 Persian youths, who like the Paides served as hostages for the good behavior of their fathers (Curt. 8.5.1) and would serve to forge loyalty to the king in the next generation.62 But until now they had been sight unseen. When they made their appearance at Susa or Opis, it was the very sight of these youths in Macedonian military attire executing Macedonian phalanx drills that so offended the Macedonians that it triggered an uproar.63 There is no indication that the Macedonians objected to foreign troops being in the army, but rather they objected to foreign troops being incorporated into Macedonian units outfitted with Macedonian equipment and trained in Macedonian tactics (Arr. Anab. 7.8.2); and to Persian units being called by Macedonian names (7.11.3). And they objected when Alexander, in response to their unrest, put Persian officers in command of Macedonian units (7.11.1). When Alexander arrested thirteen ringleaders of the uproar and sent them to execution, the army repented. After the unrest at Opis, when Peucestas arrived with 20,000 recruits from the eastern satrapies, these soldiers, evidently not trained in Macedonian tactics, were incorporated into Macedonian units without Macedonian weapons, and evidently without objection (Arr. Anab. 7. 23.1–4; Diod. Sic. 17.110.2).64 The regular 60 Diod. Sic. 17.17.4; Arr. Anab. 4.17.3, 5.2.2, 5.12.2, 6.14.3; Curt. 9.2.24. On Persian and Persian subject forces from 330, see Bosworth (1980b) 14–15 (“a great pool of hostages”). 61 See Bosworth (1980b) 15–17 on the reorganization of cavalry. 62 Paides: Anson (2013) 60. Olbrycht (2015) 200 argues that the Epigonoi joined Alexander briefly in India in 326. 63 Arr. Anab. 7.6.1–2; Diod. Sic. 108.1–3; Plut. Alex. 71.1; Olbrycht (2008) 234–235. Diodorus’ claim that Alexander formed the unit as a counter-balance to the Macedonian phalanx because the latter would not cross the Ganges (an error for Hyphasis) ignores that this unit had been recruited before Alexander crossed into India, Plut. Alex. 47.3. 64 Bosworth (1980b) 18–19.

Relationship of King and Army

497

soldiers did not accept that their king was taking steps to secure a permanent rule in Asia.65 They failed to understand what was necessitated by Alexander’s long-range plans—that he was, in fact, implementing the advice that Coenus is said to have given him at the Hyphasis: allow the old and worn out to return home, and start again with young men, fresh, with no experience or fear of war (Arr. Anab. 5.27.8). Yet when Alexander died, there was not one who did not understand that the army had lost its head. Much has been written about Alexander’s changes to the monarchy and the deterioration of his relationship with the army as a consequence of those changes.66 Yet Alexander fulfilled the obligations of kingship: he shared command—in fact, where Philip had found only one general in Parmenion, Alexander had found many excellent generals and several future kings; he shared spoils; he took the same—or greater—risks; and he listened. This is what Coenus asked the king to do at the Hyphasis, and this is what the king did (Curt. 9.3.6), albeit after a three-day stand-off. At Opis he addressed, if not directly then indirectly,67 the grievances of the army, recalling all that his father Philip had done for them, their gains through his own leadership, and, not least, he dared them to strip and show their wounds in comparison with his own, “… for no part of my body on the front is unwounded, there is no weapon that has not scarred me. I discharged debts, gave gold crowns, splendid funerals, bronze images, and remission of taxes.” Alexander could not understand that his Macedonians found his kingship and his dreams unbearable. Works Cited Adams, W. L. (1986) “Macedonian Kingship and the Right of Petition.” Archaia Makedonia IV: 43–52. Anson, E. M. (2008) “Philip II and the Transformation of Macedonia: A Reappraisal,” in Howe and Reames (2008) 17–30. Anson, E. M. (2009) “Philip II and the Creation of the Macedonian PEZHETAIROI,” in Wheatley and Hannah (2009) 88–98. Anson, E. M. (2013) Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues. London. Anson, E. M. (2015) “Alexander at the Beas,” in Wheatley and Baynham (2015) 65–74. Anson, E. M. (2020) Philip II Father of Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues. London.

65 On the necessity of the Epigonoi for Alexander’s plans, see Anson (2021). 66 See especially Carney (1996); Heckel (2009); Anson (2021). 67 Nagle (1996) 164–66.

498

King

Anson, E. M. (2021) “The Father of the Army: Alexander and the Epigoni,” in D’Agostini, Anson and Pownall (2021) 227–41. Badian, E. (2000) “Conspiracies,” in Bosworth and Baynham (2000) 50–95. Beck, H. (ed) (2013) A Companion to Ancient Greek Government. Malden MA. Billows, R. A. (1995) Kings and Colonists: Aspects of Macedonian Imperialism. Leiden. Billows, R. A. (2018) Before and After Alexander: The Legend and Legacy of Alexander the Great. London. Borza, E. (1992/1990) In the Shadow of Olympus: The Emergence of Macedon. Princeton. Bosworth, A. B. (1971) “Philip II and Upper Macedonia.” CQ 21.1: 93–105. Bosworth, A. B. (1980a) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander, Volume 1. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1980b) “Alexander and the Iranians.” JHS 100: 1–21. Bosworth, A. B. (2010) “The Argeads and the Phalanx,” in Carney and Ogden (2010) 91–102. Bosworth, A. B. and Baynham, E. (eds) (2000) Alexander the Great in Fact and Fiction. Oxford. Brice, L. L. (2015) “Military Unrest in the Age of Philip and Alexander of Macedon: Defining the Terms of Debate,” in Howe et al. (2015) 69–76. Brock, R. and Hodkinson, S. (eds) (2000) Alternatives to Athens: Varieties of Political Organization and Community in Ancient Greece. Oxford. Buckler, J. (1989) Philip II and The Sacred War. Leiden. Buckler, J. and Beck, H. (2008) Central Greece and the Politics of Power in the Fourth Century BC. Cambridge. Carlier, P. (2000) “Homeric and Macedonian Kingship,” in Brock and Hodkinson (2000) 259–68. Carney, E. (1996) “Macedonians and Mutiny: Discipline and Indiscipline in the Army of Philip and Alexander.” CPh 91.1: 19–44. Reprinted in King and Court (2015) 27–59. Carney, E. (2000) “Artifice and Alexander History,” in Bosworth and Baynham (2000) 263–85. Carney, E. (2008) “The Role of the Basilikoi Paides at the Argead Court,” in Howe and Reames (2008) 145–64. Reprinted in King and Court (2015) 207–21. Carney, E. (2015) King and Court in Ancient Macedonia: Rivalry, Treason and Conspiracy. Swansea. Carney, E. and Ogden, D. (eds) (2010) Philip II and Alexander the Great: Father and Son, Lives and Afterlives. Oxford. Cawkwell, G. L. (1978) Philip of Macedon. London. D’Agostini, M., Anson, E. M., and Pownall, F. (eds) (2021) Affective Relations and Personal Bonds in Hellenistic Antiquity: Studies in Honor of Elizabeth D. Carney. Oxford. Ellis, J. R. (1976) Philip II and Macedonian Imperialism. London.

Relationship of King and Army

499

Ellis, J. R. (1982) “The First Months of Alexander’s Reign.” Studies in the History of Art 10: 69–73. Erskine, A. (1989) “The πεζέταιροι of Philip II and Alexander III.” Historia 38.4: 385–94. Fuller, J. F. C. (1958) The Generalship of Alexander the Great. London. Greenwalt, W. (2015a) “Infantry and the Evolution of Argead Macedonia,” in Howe, Garvin and Wrightson (2015) 41–46. Greenwalt, W. (2015b) “Thracian and Macedonian Kingship,” in Valeva et al. (2015) 337–51. Hammond, N. G. L. (1991) “The Various Guards of Philip II and Alexander III.” Historia 40.4: 396–418. Hammond, N. G. L. (1996) Alexander the Great: King, Commander and Statesman, 3rd edn. London. Hammond, N. G. L. (1997) “What May Philip Have Learnt as a Hostage in Thebes?” GRBS (1997) 38.4: 355–72. Hatzopoulos, M. (2020) Ancient Macedonia. Berlin. Heckel, W. (2003) “King and ‘Companions:’ Observations on the Nature of Power in the Reign of Alexander,” in Roisman (2003) 197–225. Heckel, W. (2009) “A King and His Army,” in Heckel and Tritle (2009) 69–82. Heckel, W. (2016) Alexander’s Marshals: A Study of the Makedonian Aristocracy and the Politics of Military Leadership. Second Edition. London. Heckel, W. (2017) “Geography and Politics in Argead Makedonia,” in Müller et al. (2017) 67–78. Heckel, W. and Tritle, L. A. (eds) (2003) Crossroads of History: The Age of Alexander. Claremont, CA. Heckel, W. and Tritle, L. A. (eds) (2009) Alexander the Great: A New History. Malden MA. Heckel, W., Müller, S., and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2015) The Many Faces of War in the Ancient World. Newcastle. Holt, F. L. (1999) “Alexander the Great Today.” AHB 13.3: 111–17. Howe, T., Garvin, E. E., and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2015) Greece, Macedon and Persia. Oxford. Howe, T., Müller, S., and Stoneman, R. (eds) (2017) Ancient Historiography on War and Empire. Oxford. Howe, T. and Reames, J. (eds) (2008) Macedonian Legacies: Studies in Ancient Macedonian History and Culture in Honor of Eugene N. Borza. Claremont, CA. King, C. J. (2010) “Macedonian Kingship and Other Political Institutions,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 373–91. King, C. J. (2018) Ancient Macedonia. London. Müller, S., Howe, T., Bowden, H., and Rollinger, R. (eds) (2017) The History of the Argeads: New Perspectives. Wiesbaden.

500

King

Nagle, D. B. (1996) “The Cultural Context of Alexander’s Speech at Opis.” TAPhA 126: 151–72. Olbrycht, M. J. (2008) “Curtius Rufus, the Macedonian Mutiny at Opis and Alexander’s Iranian Policy in 324 BC,” in Pigon (2008) 231–52. Olbrycht, M. J. (2015) “The Epigoni: The Iranian Phalanx of Alexander the Great,” in Heckel, Müller and Wrightson (2015) 196–212. Pigon, J. (ed) (2008) The Children of Herodotus: Greek and Roman Historiography and Related Genres. Newcastle. Raaflaub, Kurt A. (2013) “Archaic and Classical Greek Reflections on Politics and Government: From Description to Conceptualization, Analysis, and Theory,” in Beck (2013) 73–92. Riginos, A. (1994) “The Wounding of Philip II of Macedon: Fact and Fabrication.” JHS 114: 103–19. Roisman, J. (ed) (2003) Brill’s Companion to Alexander the Great. Leiden. Roisman, J. (2012) “Royal Power, Law and Justice in Ancient Macedonia.” AHB 26: 131–48. Roisman, J. (2015) “Opposition to Macedonian Kings: Riots for Rewards and Verbal Protests,” in Howe, Garvin and Wrightson (2015) 77–86. Roisman, J. and Worthington, I. (eds) (2010) A Companion to Ancient Macedonia. Malden MA. Romm, J. (2010a) “Alexander’s Army and Military Leadership,” in Romm (2010b) 343–51. Romm, J. (ed) (2010b) The Landmark Arrian: The Campaigns of Alexander. New York. Sage, M. (1996) Warfare in Ancient Greece: A Sourcebook. London. Tritle, L. A. (2003) “Alexander and the Killing of Cleitus the Black,” in Heckel and Tritle (2003) 127–46. Valeva, J., Nankov, E., and Graninger, D. (eds) (2015) A Companion to Ancient Thrace. Malden, MA. Wheatley, P. and Baynham, E. (eds) (2015) East and West in the World Empire of Alexander. Essays in Honour of Brian Bosworth. Oxford. Wheatley, P. and Hannah, R. (eds) (2009) Alexander and His Successors: Essays From the Antipodes. Claremont, CA. Worthington, I. (2008) Philip II of Macedonia. New Haven, CT. Worthington, I. (2014) By the Spear: Philip II, Alexander the Great, and the Rise and Fall of the Macedonian Empire. Oxford.

Chapter 19

The Affective Nature of Command Monica D’Agostini In the Macedonian society the training of the elite was primarily military and war competence was a prerequisite of the aristocratic class, yet other factors could also determine the army hierarchy, beyond military skills. The king managed the core of the Macedonian monarchy through personal relationships not only with his kin but also with his generals and the key players of the leading class.1 This personal relationship involved an affective dimension, either familiarity, intimacy, or affinity, which was not limited to the private life of the sovereign but impacted the managerial activity of the monarchs, and thus, the politics of the kingdom. Although affective relations took place off the official record, the ancient literary sources indulge in a few episodes in the armies of Philip II and Alexander III, which unveil the affective dimension of the Macedonian king’s relations to his highest commanders. These instances convey the emotional nature of military command but are considered fictional at times or symptomatic of a nepotistic political system.2 Taking into account the literary bias, the following study collects and reviews some meaningful instances of affective bonds in the army of Philip II and Alexander to determine if and to what extent emotional attachment was factored in military leadership. 1

Philip II

Although the history of Philip II is full of anecdotes, some on the king’s lust and irrational behaviour, few imply an emotional factor in the military management.3 The most notable episodes involve Alexander himself. In Plutarch’s Life of 1 Recently Heckel (2016) 243–59 and Anson, D’Agostini, Pownall (2020) 2–5. All dates in this chapter are BCE unless indicated differently. The translations and paraphrases of ancient literary sources are based on the Loeb Classical Library editions, unless otherwise indicated. 2 Bosworth (1980a) 364–65; Heckel (2006) 133–37; Heckel (2016) 82, in particular n. 39 which stresses the relevance of the personal component in Hephaestion’s career. 3 An affective bond might be detected in Philip II’s choice to spare his nephew’s life in 359. After his brother and predecessor Perdiccas III died in a battle against the Illyrians Philip II became the guardian, and maybe regent, of Perdiccas’ son Amyntas: Justin 7.5.9–10 cf. Diod.

© Monica D’Agostini, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_021

502

D ’ Agostini

Alexander Philip showed a particular interest in his son when he was just a teen: in a famous anecdote, Philip expressed his admiration for his son after he successfully tamed the horse Bucephalus. No one had been able to tame the animal, but Alexander identified the cause of the animal’s distress, which was his shadow, and mounted him after turning him toward the sun and dropping his cloak. Philip, reports Plutarch, shed tears of joy and wished his son to find a kingdom equal to him, since Macedonia had no room for his greatness.4 Plutarch says that Philip hired Aristotle to tutor Alexander when he was more or less 13 or 14 years old to give him the best education the king could offer him (Plut. Alex. 7.1–8.5; See also Diog. Laert. 5.10; Strabo 13.608). In 340, Philip II appointed the 16-year-old Alexander regent in his absence, assisted by his father’s generals Antipater and Parmenion, say both Plutarch and Justin, confirming his particular interest in the boy.5 But the king’s attachment and predilection for his son manifested publicly in 338 with a military appointment that officially presented the prince to the Macedonian army. Philip II chose Alexander to lead the left flank of the Macedonian battle line at Chaeronea. According to Diodorus, “The armies deployed at dawn, and the king stationed his son Alexander, young in age but noted for his valour and swiftness of action, on one wing, placing beside him his most seasoned generals, while he himself at the head of picked men exercised the command over the other” (Diod. Sic. 16.86.1). The same tradition is also present in Plutarch and stresses that Philip appreciated his son for his prowess and rewarded it with military leadership.6 The stakes were high: the defeat of the coalition of Greek states led by Athens and Thebes could grant Philip II the hegemony of Greece. Instead of trusting only his experienced generals, Philip II took a risk. He gave Alexander a prominent role in the army and promoted him among the best Macedonian commanders. Alexander did not disappoint his father: Diodorus says the crown prince wanted to show his courage to his father (Diod. Sic. 16.86.3). He broke the Sic. 16.1.3 and 16.2.1 and Satyrus ap. Athen. 13.557b. Hammond (1994) 196 n. 12 and Arena (2003) 49–82. After proclaiming himself king, Philip II kept Amyntas at court, although he posed a dynastic threat. After the birth of Arrhidaeus and Alexander, he moved to the “second tier of heirs”: Anson (2009) 276–86. He was included in Philip’s family, strengthening the Argead bloodline through the wedding with Philip II’s daughter Cynnane: Polyaenus, Strat. 8.60; Arr. Succ. 1.22–23. By spring 335, Alexander had put Amyntas to death: Arr. Anab. 1.5.4 and Succ 1.22; Curt. 6.9.17; Plut. Mor. 327c (De al. m. fort. 3); Justin 12.6.14. 4 Plut. Alex. 6.1–5. See Ogden 2020, 143–61. 5 Plut. Alex. 9.1; Just. Epit. 9.1.8. See Gilley, Worthington (2010) 186–207 and Müller (2010) 166–85. 6 See also Plut. Alex. 9.2.

The Affective Nature of Command

503

ranks of the Sacred Band of the Thebans, prevailing over the right wing of the Greek formation. Philip II showed a special bond also with one of his daughters: Cynnane. She was his daughter from the Illyrian Audata, daughter of the Illyrian king Bardylis. Cynnane probably was his first-born in 358/7, and received military training.7 Polyaenus devoted to her a positive entry: “Cynnane, the daughter of Philip, used to train for war, commanded armies, and took her place in the ranks against enemies. In a battle with the Illyrians, she slew their queen Caeria with a blow to the throat and killed many Illyrians in the fight” (Polyaenus, Strat. 8.60).8 Cynnane commanded armies, and in the field charged at their head. Specifically, the king showed a clear preference for his Illyrian daughter when he let her lead an offensive when she was just a teenager. She won against the Illyrian queen and killed her personally, defeating the Illyrian army with bloodshed. Cynnane’s wedding confirmed Philip’s favor for her. In 338/337, at the age of 18, she married Amyntas, Philip II’s nephew, as both Polyaenus and Arrian say.9 The union took place not much before his daughter Cleopatra’s wedding with her uncle Alexander of Epirus, and gave a daughter named Adea to Cynnane. Nevertheless, Cynnane was widowed soon after her wedding, because following Philip II’s death, Alexander put Amyntas to death for conspiracy before he left for the Asiatic expedition.10 The impact of Philip’s affective bond with his daughter did not die with him. On the contrary, its military dimension showed clearly during the wars of the Successors. After Alexander’s death, in 322, Cynnane left Antipater’s custody in Macedonia, crossed the Strymon with some forces, and brought her daughter Adea to Asia Minor. The royal girl had Argead blood on the maternal and paternal side, being Amyntas’ offspring, and had been raised at court. Cynnane wanted to wed her to Philip III, so reuniting Argead bloodlines. But the general Alcetas, brother of the regent Perdiccas, met her to persuade her to return 7

Heckel (1983–84) 193–200, Greenwalt (1988) 93–97, Carney (2000) 29–31 and Heckel (2006) 100–101. On the historiographic tradition on Cynnane see Landucci Gattinoni (2008) 124–25. 8 Texts and translations of Polyaenus are from Krentz, Wheeler (1994). 9 Polyaenus, Strat. 8.60 and Arr. Succ. 1.22–23 = FGrH 156 F 9–1.22–23 (= Phot. Bibl. 92 p. 70). On the date, see Carney (2000) 69. See also Anson (2009) 276–86. 10 Arr. Anab. 1.5.4 and Succ 1.22; Curt. 6.9.17; Plut. Mor. 327c (De al. m. fort. 3); Just. Epit. 12.6.14. Prandi (1998) 91–101; Howe (2015) 133–46. Her half-brother tried to remarry her to Langarus, king of the Agrianae, a tribe in the Upper Strymon valley, but her bridegroom fell ill and died before the wedding: Arr. Anab. 1.5.4–5.

504

D ’ Agostini

to Europe. When the two armies were about to engage, Alcetas’ Macedonians were reluctant to fight against Cynnane, out of respect. However, Alcetas murdered her anyway, likely on Perdiccas’ order.11 According to Arrian,12 the troops reacted to her death with indignation, to the point that they came close to mutiny against Alcetas. To calm the situation, it was decided to honor the last orders of Cynnane. The soldiers fulfilled the mission to bring her daughter Adea to Asia where she married Arrhidaeus and assumed the royal name Eurydice.13 Polyaenus and Arrian both emphasize the loyalty of the Macedonian army to Cynnane, as they saw her as the brave Philip’s daughter (Polyaenus, Strat. 8.60 and Arr. Succ. 1.23). The loyalty of the army rested on the affective bond between the soldiers and their leader. Philip II’s reforms had strengthened the relationship between the military commander and the army, in particular the infantry. By rewarding his soldiers with land distribution, and not just the aristocratic companions, the king created a new military middle class loyal to himself. Moreover, he selected the pezhetairoi, a chosen guard, among the Macedonians, and hence extended to the heavy infantry the honor to be hetairoi of the king.14 These innovations did not just affected Philip II’s relationship with the army, but also his children’s command.15 The troops’ loyalty to Cynnane was built on Philip II’s bond with the soldiers and on the king’s predilection toward his daughter, which manifested clearly in her participation on the battlefield and her royal Macedonian dynastic wedding. Philip singled out Alexander and Cynnane at a young age, entrusting them with honorable positions at his side as military commanders. When he chose his teenage son and daughter to lead the army in battle, he considered the skills of the two, their training and perspectives. However, these decisions also show the affection the king had for the two children. He had a bond with them, which manifested as a public act in the two military appointments. It is difficult to find such clear evidence for other instances, and thus it is challenging to say how much Philip II relied on personal bonds when it came to non-family members. However, these cases suggest that in Philip’s ruling family, there was a direct correspondence between the affective bond with the ruler and military appointments. 11 Polyaenus, Strat 8.60. Cf. Diod. Sic. 19.52.5. Anson (2014, 55) argues that the murder had been ordered by Perdiccas. Cf. Briant (1973) 258–63, who investigates the murder and its consequences for Perdiccas. 12 Arr. Succ. 1.23. See Briant (1973) 258–263; Bosworth (2002) 11–12; Leroy (2017) 158. 13 Carney (2000) 29–31. See also Briant (1973) 160, Simonetti Agostinetti (1993) 60–62, Bosworth (2002) 11–12, Anson (2014) 55. 14 Anson (2022) 17–31. 15 Anson (2022) 17–31.

The Affective Nature of Command

505

Moreover, the closeness to Philip II enhanced the prestige of Alexander and Cynnane, securing them the loyalty of those who were themselves loyal and bonded to their father. This is the most evident in Cynnane’s instance. The army was attached to her because of her closeness to Philip II. Similarly, the soldiers cared about Adea at the point of mutiny against Alcetas, for they were devoted to her deceased mother, their commander Cynnane. In Philip’s reign, the possession of royal blood, pedigree, or a particular skill-set seems not to be enough to be accepted as a leader. Recruitment, some form of co-optation was expected to happen from the king at least within his family. Philip’s highest military appointments among his relatives embodied the personal affection of the king and rooted the legitimacy to lead in the king’s affective realm. 2

Alexander the Great

During the reign of Alexander, many are the references to the affective nature of his relationship with the commanders. The closest entourage of the king was the backbone of the ruler’s power and made up mostly of Macedonian leading nobles. These were the king’s philoi (friends), hetairoi (Companions) or amici (friends).16 The term Friends was not an official designation, and the ancient authors are inconsistent with the use of the term “friend.” They could fail to identify a person as a friend or call “friends” the fellow-banqueters. Nevertheless, there are a few identifiable features of the Companions of Alexander. According to Roisman, they “constituted a status group whose origins preceded Alexander, including noble Macedonians and elite men of non-Macedonian background. The king controlled admission to and exit from the Companions and assigned their military commands and ranks. He also used them in non-military capacities such as administration, diplomacy and advising, and socialized with them in the hunt and the banquet.”17 Besides the Companions, other army sections had a personal link to Alexander: the Foot-Companions among the infantry and the seven or eight members of the king’s bodyguard (somatophylakes).

16 See recently Heckel (2016) 243–59; Roisman (2020) 165–85. See also Stagakis (1970) 86–102; Heckel (1986) 279–94; Hatzopoulos (1996) 1, 334–59; Savalli Lestrade (1998); Savalli Lestrade (2001) 263–94; Virgilio (2003) 136–42; Landucci Gattinoni (2003) 199–224, (2019) 123–37. 17 Roisman (2020) 168.

506

D ’ Agostini

These men were close, if not intimate, with Alexander. Their friendship with the king was built not only on shared education and youth but also on communal experiences and rituals, as well as, and maybe most importantly, on mutual loyalty, demonstrative support, and a common political vision.18 Among the many friendships mentioned in the sources, a few cases are singled out as building on a solid emotive component. In at least three instances, this emotional component proves to be determinant for the military management: Cleitus the Black, Hephaestion, and Peucestas.19 2.1 Cleitus Cleitus, son of Dropidas, surnamed the Black, had served in the Macedonian military already under Philip II, and was older than Alexander, since his sister Lanice had been Alexander’s wet nurse.20 However, he is better attested by Arrian, Curtius Rufus, Plutarch, Diodorus, and Justin for his life under Alexander. According to the sources, Cleitus accompanied the king in the East and distinguished himself at the Granicus in 334: during the ferocious battle, Rhoesaces and his brother Spithridates, satraps of Ionia and Lydia under the Persian king Darius III, severely struck Alexander’s head, and were about to inflict the final blow, when Cleitus, says Arrian,21 intervened and cut off Spithridates’ arm. Given the proximity to the king during the battle, Bosworth argued he was already the commander of the Royal Squadron, the elite unit of the Companion Cavalry, although the appointment is attested only from Gaugamela onwards. The account of the rescue is similar in Plutarch, Diodorus, and Curtius: in all of the accounts, Alexander was about to be hit by either one or the other of the two Persian commanders with a mortal blow, when Cleitus killed the offender and saved the king, and his gesture won him great fame.22 According to Arrian,23 Cleitus remained with Alexander until Susa, when he was left behind ill. However, in 330 he was reunited with his king in Parthia. Following the execution of Philotas,24 his position grew as he 18 Roisman (2020) 165–85. 19 For the purpose of this study, I will not engage in providing exhausting biography of the generals, but rather analyse the affective element in their careers. See Heckel (2016), and Heckel in this volume. 20 Curt. 8.1.20. On Cleitus in general see Heckel (2006) 86–87, (2016) 60–64. 21 Arr. Anab. 1.15.8. Bosworth (1980a) 124. 22 The details of the episode are different in every source. Plut. Alex. 16.4–5 claims that Cleitus killed Spithridates who was about to kill Alexander, while the king eliminated Rhoesaces. Diodorus (17.20.7) and Curtius (8.1.20) say Cleitus killed Rhoesaces, who threatened Alexander, and the king eliminated the brother. See Prandi (2013) 28. 23 Arr. Anab. 3.19.8. See Bosworth (1980a) 338. 24 On the Philotas affair see recently Heckel (2020) 203–208. See also Carney (1983) 60–72; Badian (2000) 50–95; and below. On Cleitus’ replacement of Artabazos as satrap of Bactria and Sogdiana see Heckel (2020) 190-91.

The Affective Nature of Command

507

assumed himself command of the Companions, the best of the mounted forces, with Hephaestion. Philotas was the late commander of the Companion Cavalry, who had been suspected of treason, tortured, and then killed. After the Philotas affair, the king divided the brigade into two parts and assigned it to the two trusted friends. He did not wish anyone to be so influential and controlling again, for this was a prestigious and powerful role, likely second only Alexander’s (Arr. Anab. 3.27.4). Cleitus’ career further progressed in 328, says only Curtius among the sources (Curt. 8.1.19–20). Alexander appointed him satrap of Bactria and Sogdiana, because the former governor, Artabazos, had resigned allegedly due to his age. Curtius links Cleitus’ dazzling military career not only to the officer’s own merits but to his sister’s affective bond with Alexander: “And Hellanice (=  Lanice), his sister, who had reared Alexander, was loved by the king as dearly as if she were his own mother (haud secus quam mater a rege diligebatur). It was for these reasons, that he entrusted to Cleitus’ faith and protection the strongest part of his empire” (Curt. 8.1.21). Cleitus’ familiarity with the king dates back to Alexander’s childhood, and his loyalty had been proved by his rescue of the king at Granicus. Nevertheless, according to Curtius, Cleitus’ emotional bond with Alexander singled him out for high-profile command and governance of the wealthiest and most prominent satrapies.25 The king’s affection for Lanice made Cleitus eligible for positions dangerously close to Alexander’s. Alexander’s love for Lanice also emerges in 328, when Alexander killed Cleitus during a drunken fight at the banquet of Maracanda. The episode appears in four sources with some differences and has been attentively studied by Carney in order to prove the political motive behind it: it was rooted in the growing tensions between Alexander and the Macedonian nobility on the king’s political innovations.26 For the purpose of the present study, it will suffice to say that during the banquet, Cleitus questioned Alexander’s vision and decisions, causing a fight that escalated due to the participants’ intoxication. Despite the attempts of the friends and the bodyguards, somatophylakes, to restrain the king and the satrap, Alexander grabbed a spear and killed Cleitus. Alexander was shocked and grieved for the death of Cleitus, and he fasted and cried for days. However, some sources claim that his pain was not due to 25

On the importance of the rule of Bactria and Sogdiana, the key to the empire’s control, see Coloru (2009) 124–25. Cf. Carney (1981, 149–60) stresses that many satrapies went to insignificant men. Thus, the appointment is no evidence of preference. 26 Carney (1981, 149–60) specifically and convincingly relates it to the defeat of the Macedonian army suffered in Maracanda in 329. The bloodshed escalated the tension in Alexander’s court. See also Asirvatham (2020) 37–50 on the symbolic reading of the killing and the religious halo of the episode.

508

D ’ Agostini

his affection for Cleitus, but rather to the procured pain to his beloved Lanice.27 The Latin accounts by Curtius and Justin28 deliver a version similar to Arrian’s, who says: “But most historians have a different story: they say that Alexander took his bed and lay there mourning, crying out the name of Cleitus and of Cleitus’ sister Lanice, daughter of Dropides, who had nursed him: what a fine return for her nursing had he given her, now that he was a man!” (ὡς καλὰ ἄρα αὐτῇ τροφεῖα ἀποτετικὼς εἴη ἀνδρωθείς, Arr. Anab. 4.9.3). Alexander had repaid his wet-nurse Lanice’s love with the death of her brother and was ashamed by of the pain he caused her. The king considered himself kindred to her but would not have been able to look at her due to his actions, as Curtius stresses: Omnibus eius unus supersum, quem solum aequis oculis videre non poterit, (“Of all her kindred, I am the only one alive, I am the only one whom she will not be able to look upon with her gentle eyes,” Curt. 8.2.9). The sentence is hyperbolic, since at least one of Lanice’s sons outlived Alexander himself, Proteas.29 However, this hyperbole stresses Alexander’s consideration of Lanice as family and her kin as his kin. The historiographic remarks on Cleitus’ death confirm Curtius’ previous statement about the affective nature of Alexander’s relationship with him. However, the attachment was not to Cleitus himself, a close friend of the king as many others, but to his sister Lanice, whom Alexander considered as a mother. According to Curtius (8.1.20), Cleitus served with distinction in Philip II’s army and Alexander’s. Nevertheless, the reason for his high-profile appointments, for his rise to prominence during Alexander’s reign, was rooted in Alexander’s familial bond with Cleitus’ sister, which affected the military career of her brother. 2.2 Hephaestion 2.2.1 The Affective Relation Alexander’s most famous affective bond among his generals was that with Hephaestion, son of Amyntor. He might have been a childhood friend and 27 Arr. Anab. 4.9.3–4. See Bosworth (1995) 63–64. 28 Curt. 8.2.9 and Just. Epit. 12.6.10–11. See Yardley and Develin (1994). Plutarch (Alex. 52.1–2) mentions Alexander’s grievance, although he does not explain the nature of the relationship between the king and Cleitus. 29 He was a syntrophos (milk-brother) of the king and a famous drinker: the two had been brought up together by Lanice. Ath. 4.129a; Ael. VH 12.26; Ephippus FGrH 126 F 3. On the sons of Lanice, see Asirvatham (2020) 37–50 and Bosworth (1995) 63–64. According to Asirvatham (2020) 37–50 other two sons of Lanice might have been invented to bestow a religious halo upon the bond between Alexander and Cleitus and stress the impiety of the killing.

The Affective Nature of Command

509

syntrophos of the king when they trained together at Mieza.30 We must admit that a thick fog clouds the specifics of the affective relation between Alexander and Hephaestion. The intimacy with Alexander is attested in most of the historiography on the king, but it assumed fictional features due to the historiographical re-elaborations.31 Daniel Ogden studied the nuances of their relationship, focusing on the identification, already in antiquity, of Hephaestion as Alexander’s eromenos, lover. He admits the intentional literary conundrum, which the ancient sources created about Hephaestion’s and Alexander’s relationship. Nevertheless, he made the following persuasive remark: “Alexander’s relationship with Hephaestion … is likely to have fallen more particularly into the pattern of homosexual relationships between age-peers that are typical of the military elites, and the training bodies of them, that are found in a number of Greek societies, notably those of Sparta, Thebes (in the Sacred Band) and Elis.”32 The sexuality of the relationship was probably exaggerated in Roman Imperial times, as it appears to be increasingly popular in authors such as Justin (Epit. 12.12.11–12), Aelian (VH 12.7) and Lucian (DM 12.4).33 Although their sexuality, their love, could have had a political impact, it does not suffice to explain the unique relationship between the two, and, in particular, the exceptional official recognition that Alexander publicly granted Hephaestion. Sabine Müller recently identified two topoi that dramatically affected the historicity of Hephaestion’s bond with Alexander.34 The first one is the popular association of the two friends with the Homeric Achilles and Patroclus. Already at the beginning of the expedition, when Alexander reached Ilium and visited the tombs of Achilles and Patroclus, the king placed a wreath on Achilles’ tomb, and, Arrian says, Hephaestion likewise on Patroclus’ tomb (Arr. Anab. 1.12.1). Similarly, Alexander’s grief and the great funerary rites after Hephaestion’s death at Ecbatana also linked the couple to Achilles and Patroclus.35 The historicity of the first Iliadic episode is not certain, and thus Bosworth argued that the literary tradition retrojected the Homeric parallel generated after Hephaestion’s death to the time of the Hellespont crossing. 30 Diog. Laert. 5.27 mentions the letter of Aristotle to Hephaestion. 31 Müller (2018) 77–102. On Hephaestion, see Heckel (2016) 75–100. See also Badian (1998) 350; Heckel (2006) 133–37; Reames (2010) 183–216; Ogden (2011) 155–66. See also Reames-Zimmerman (1999) 81–96. 32 Ogden (2011) 155–66. 33 Also Luc. Hdt. 5–6, describes a painting of the Marriage of Roxana and Alexander, where Hephaestion is also portrayed. 34 Müller (2018) 77–102. 35 Ogden (2011) 160–65.

510

D ’ Agostini

The origin of the parallel could be the affection for Hephaestion shown by Alexander at his funerary rites.36 The other topos is the image of Hephaestion as Alexander’s Second Self. The alter ego theme is conveyed by a famous passage that the whole literary tradition delivered and that likely derives from Clitarchus.37 After the battle of Issus in 333, Alexander and Hephaestion allegedly went together to visit the captured Persian royal family. The queen mother Sisyngambris38 mistook Hephaestion for the king and knelt to him. According to Diodorus, when she realized her error she withdrew in confusion: ὁ δὲ βασιλεὺς ὑπολαβὼν εἶπεν “μηδὲν φροντίσῃς, ὦ μῆτερ: καὶ γὰρ καὶ οὗτος Ἀλέξανδρός ἐστιν” (“He, however, cut in and said, ‘Never mind, Mother. For actually he too is Alexander,’” Diod. Sic. 17.37.6). The account portrays Alexander and Hephaestion as a duo, two sides of the same coin, one the alter ego of the other. The same portrayal is offered, and enriched, by Curtius:39 “[Hephaestion] was by far the dearest to the king of all his friends; brought up with him, and the confidant of all his secrets, he also had more freedom than anyone else in admonishing him, a privilege which he nevertheless used in such a manner that it seemed rather to be allowed by the king than claimed by himself” (Curt. 3.12.16.).40 Curtius builds up on the theme of the alter ego, and stresses the intimacy that Hephaestion enjoyed, which allowed him to speak freely with Alexander, more than any other Companion. The topos of the other self appears again in Diodorus, in relation to Hephaestion’s death, when he mentions the freedom of speech that he enjoyed. In order to describe the affection between the king and the hetairos, Diodorus briefly reviews some episodes that balance Hephaestion against other

36

On the historicity of the episode Roisman (2020) 165–85. See Bosworth (1980a) 102–105: he also says that the tradition was already familiar in late antiquity based on Herodian 4.8.4. Only Aelian VH 12.7 mentions Hephaestion also honoring the Homeric hero, adding that he was the object of Alexander’s love. Stadter (1980, 39, 169) suggested that Arrian probably meant to build a precedent for the emperor Hadrian and his lover Antinous through Alexander and Hephaestion. See also Müller (2018) 77–102. On Alexander’s visit to the tombs, see also Diod. Sic. 17.17.3; Just. Epit. 11.5.12; Plut. Alex. 15.8. 37 See Prandi (2013) 58–59. The episode is also mentioned by Diod. Sic. 17.37.5 and 17.114.2; Arr. Anab. 2.12.6–7; Curt. 3.12.15–17; Val. Max. 4.7 ext.2a; Just. Epit. 11.9.12–16; Itin. 37; Suda H 660. On Clitarchus see Baynham (1998) 80; McKechnie (2005) 418–32 (431); Prandi (2012) 15–26. 38 Sisigambis in Curt. 3.22. 39 Curt. 3.12.15–17. Arrian (Anab. 2.12.6–7) also relates the same episode, although he is not certain of its historicity. Bosworth (1980a) 221: “even if it has no historical basis it proves that Hephaestion was closely intimate with Alexander.” 40 On the episode and the sources see the commentary by Atkinson (1980) 252–55.

The Affective Nature of Command

511

members of Alexander’s court.41 Among them, Diodorus recalls a time when Hephaestion stood up to Olympias herself: Alexander’s mother was estranged from him because of the stature he had acquired with the king, and criticized and threatened Hephaestion in her correspondence. Hephaestion had no problem challenging her, claiming his loyalty and affection to Alexander. Diodorus stresses that Hephaestion’s freedom of speech (parrhesia) in confronting Olympias originated in the philos’ friendship with Alexander: καθόλου γὰρ ὁ Ἡφαιστίων τοσαύτης ἐξουσίας καὶ φιλικῆς ἐκοινώνει παρρησίας (“As a matter of fact, Hephaestion enjoyed so much power and freedom of speech based on this friendship,” Diod. Sic. 17.114.3).42 Although Carney argues that the episode was meant to illustrate Olympias’ quarrelsome nature,43 the emphasis is on Hephaestion’s extraordinary freedom of speech. Diodorus identifies Alexander’s affection as the cause of the peculiar liberty enjoyed by the hetairos. Hephaestion’s freedom of speech marks the closest and most equal kind of friendship with the king. As recently noted by Roisman with regards of Alexander’s Philoi, Alexander’s tutor Aristotle wrote extensively on friendship, and in particular on equality as its vital component: “A virtuous friend regards a friend as a second self and feels toward him as he feels about himself.”44 However this kind of friendship was impossible for kings. In general, friendship could thus be dangerous to a monarch, because it undermined the royal superiority. The friends of the king were thus in an unequal position, an Aristotelian unequal friendship (Arist. Eth. Nic. 1158b): they enjoyed proximity to the king, shared time and vision with him, but they were not equal to him because the king alone could desert the relationship. The portrayals of Hephaestion distinguish his bond with Alexander from that of the other Companions by stressing the liberty of speech and the equality he enjoyed in their relationship. Their bond did not belong to the typical monarchical unequal friendship, but rather to the realm of real friendship, where one is the alter ego of the other. Although a portrayal of Hephaestion as Alexander’s other self could have been a literary embellishment of their affective bond as argued by Müller,45 he was more than a Companion, and more than a lover, he might have been the closest thing to a king’s true friend. 41 See Landucci (2008) 40–42; Prandi (2013) 196–97. 42 Diod. Sic. 17.114.1–3. According to an anecdote from Plutarch Alex. 39.5, Hephaestion read Alexander’s correspondence. The episode is also delivered with some changes is Moralia 180D; 33A; 340A. 43 Carney (2006) 57. 44 Roisman (2020) 165–85. See also Arist. Eth. Nic. 1156b–1159b. 45 Müller (2018) 77–102; Bosworth (1980a) 221–22: the alter ego anecdotes prove useful to show Alexander’s pity and loyalty to his friends.

512

D ’ Agostini

2.2.2 The Military Side of the Affective Relationship It is difficult to establish to what degree the affective bond determined Hephaestion’s military appointments. The information on his early military career is scarce and ill attested until he led the somatophylakes at Gaugamela.46 However, his actions gain the attention of the sources starting in 331/330 in Drangiana, when he received his first high-profile appointment after he tortured Alexander’s companion, Philotas. Philotas was suspected of treason for neglecting to report the news of a conspiracy afoot against Alexander, perpetrated by a Macedonian hetairos named Dimnos. Curtius lists Hephaestion as the first of those who participated in Philotas’ arrest, after the Companions of the king decided to act against Philotas (Curt. 6.8.17). He proposed to torture Philotas before executing him in order to gain information from him, and vehemently contributed to tormenting the former companion.47 To his whole-hearted persecution of Philotas Hephaestion likely owed his command of one-half of the Companion Cavalry with Cleitus.48 From then onwards, he managed primarily logistic and diplomatic operations: funding cities, securing communication, gaining local support. Despite his participation in war actions, especially in the Indian campaigns,49 his main activity was to ensure and manage the loyalty of the newly conquered territories to Alexander, as well as the local military and logistic support to the Macedonian expedition. To this end, Hephaestion negotiated with local political actors, and established cities and Macedonian outposts to facilitate Alexander’s march as well as to secure military achievement. Hephaestion built and shaped Alexander’s empire in Bactria, Sogdiana and India by carefully negotiating the incorporation of the Macedonian element in the newly conquered land.50 46 Diod. Sic. 17.61.3. On the issue regarding the information on Hephaestion, Heckel (2016) 78–81; Müller (2018) 77–102. 47 Curt. 6.11.10–11 and Plut. Alex. 49.12. Also Diodorus (17.80.2) mentions the tortures, but does not name Hephaestion. Arrian Anabasis 3.26.1–3 only refers to Philotas’ trial and death. The academic debate on the historicity has been reviewed by Atkinson (1994) 237–41. He argues in favor of the truthfulness of the tortures that were omitted by Arrian. On Philotas see Heckel (2016) 52–59 and 81–85 (on Hephaestion’s role). 48 Arr. Anab. 3.27.4. On this as an act of nepotism see: Bosworth (1980a) 364–65: “Hephaestion owed his promotion to Alexander alone and seems to have held no previous command of importance.” There is uncertainty around his command of the somatophylakes: Heckel (2006) 133. 49 The Companion Cavalry likely remained formally under his command but was actually under the direct command of Alexander or divided in smaller detachments under the command on a number of minor officers: Heckel (2016) 86; see also Ogden (2011) 155–66; Müller (2018) 77–102. 50 Heckel (2016) 87–92 for a detailed list of Hephaestion’s operations.

The Affective Nature of Command

513

His privileged relationship with Alexander emerged during the expedition in the eastern satrapies. From 329/8 the tension in the court grew with Alexander’s Persian metamorphosis of the Macedonian cultural and political system.51 This also included the Iranization of the role of the monarch, which the more traditionalist Macedonians, like Cleitus the Black and Craterus, opposed. Hephaestion abided by Alexander’s moral ideas and political vision, which he actively and manifestedly shared. During these years, Hephaestion came into conflict with members of Alexander’s entourage. According to Plutarch in the Life of Alexander, he accused Callisthenes of misconduct when the latter failed to perform the ritual of obeisance at a banquet (Plut. Alex. 55.1). The king was unable to notice because he was too busy talking with Hephaestion, who was the one physically closest to the king. When the fact was brought to Alexander’s attention by another friend, Demetrius son of Pythonax, Hephaestion reported that Callisthenes had promised to bow, perform proskynesis, to the king but then had gone back on his word.52 By accusing Callisthenes of a change of heart, Hephaestion showed his adherence to Alexander’s vision and clarified his estrangement from Callisthenes’ political stand. Not only did he share Alexander’s policy but he worked within the court to secure support for the king’s will. His role in the Callisthenes episode is similar to his role in the Philotas one: Hephaestion acted as a military policeman against episodes of disloyalty within the Court by prosecuting their perpetrators. He played an active part in fostering the acceptance and adoption of Iranian costumes by the court members. Therefore, Hephaestion acted as a facilitator of Alexander’s political vision within the Macedonian court, as he did on conquered ground. His task required his complete obedience to the project of a new Macedonian-Persian empire. Hephaestion’s loyalty to Alexander’s vision, when the king was facing internal Macedonian resistance, possibly offered fertile ground for the birth of their personal and exclusive relationship. Hephaestion’s most dramatic contrast with Craterus mostly stressed the former’s exceptional attachment to Alexander. During the Indian expedition the two commanders engaged in a fight in front of the troops, risking the involvement of the army in the quarrel of the Companions. The episode necessitated a vigorous intervention by Alexander himself, who, says Plutarch in the Life of Alexander, did reproach both, but specifically reminded Hephaestion that he would be nothing without Alexander.53 Plutarch’s introduction of the incident 51 See recently Anson (2020) 227–41. 52 Plut. Alex. 54.4–55.1. See Pownall (2014) 56–71, (2020) 243–65; O’Sullivan (2015) 35–52; Heckel (2016) 92–93; Greenwalt (2020) 187–93. See also Prandi (1985). 53 Plut. Alex. 47.11.12. Heckel (2016) 94–95.

514

D ’ Agostini

compares the two friends of the king, and says that: “in general he (Alexander) showed most affection for Hephaestion, but most esteem for Craterus, thinking, and constantly saying, that Hephaestion was a friend of Alexander, but Craterus a friend of the king. For this reason, too, the men cherished a secret grudge against one another and often came into open collision” (Plut. Alex. 47.5–6). Craterus and Hephaestion are paired as the closest men of the king, but Hephaestion is singled out based on his loyalty and bond to Alexander himself. While Craterus followed the king, Hephaestion was the one who followed Alexander.54 The personal fracture between Hephaestion and Craterus during the Indian campaign had concrete military consequences. Arrian and Diodorus say that Alexander had to divide the two commanders during the descent of the Indus river system. The army was consequently split into two parts which marched along the east and west banks separately. However, Alexander’s preference for Hephaestion transpired from the military prominence granted him by the king: Hephaestion had the largest army and the elephants, according to Arrian.55 Moreover, Eumenes also found himself in trouble because of Hephaestion, says Plutarch in the Life of Eumenes, about the military camp. The biographer offers some anecdotes to show the personal antagonism between the two.56 In particular, in Ecbatana, the two fought over the assignment of living-quarters. Hephaestion gave the quarters assigned to Eumenes to the flute player Euios. Alexander reproached Hephaestion but left the quarters unchanged and directed his anger against Eumenes for his bitter protests against Hephaestion.57 This episode likely happened at the end of the campaign, when Hephaestion was at the peak of his power and career. His authority was such to allow him to re-arrange the military camp and even the other Companions’ sectors according to his decision and without consulting with Alexander. The mentioned episodes, although mostly delivered in an anecdotal form by Plutarch, all consistently highlight the king’s special treatment of Hephaestion, which caused tensions with the other hetairoi. Letting Hephaestion manage the quarters of others and entrusting him with the largest part of the army and the elephants constituted a clear demonstration of special treatment.

54 Plut. Alex. 47.5–6. The comparison is briefly mentioned also by Diod. Sic. 17.114.1–2; see Prandi (2013) 196–99. 55 Arr. Anab. 6.2.2, Ind. 19.1.3. See also Diod. Sic. 17.96.1; Heckel (2016) 90. 56 Anson (2015) 54–55; Heckel (2016) 93–94. 57 Plut. Eum. 2.2. Arrian briefly confirms the contrasts, although omits the details: Arr. Anab. 7.13.1 and 7.14.9. Reames (2010) 183–216; Anson (2015) 54–55. Nevertheless, the two fell out at least one other time over a prize: Plut. Eum. 2.8.

The Affective Nature of Command

515

Alexander’s favor for Hephaestion and his preference were manifested publicly through Hephaestion’s growing military authority. Notably, the sources highlight the competition within the Macedonian court,58 in particular among the highest military ranks, but they do not present Alexander’s preference for Hephaestion as unfair. On the contrary, it is often mentioned that their friendship was a valuable motive for his career in this competitive court system. The king’s affection appears determinant for the military and political management and the hetairoi’s adherence to such a career system is undisputed. The companions competed over Hephaestion’s place and the competition among the leaders was based on personal relationship policy, not on military skills. 2.2.3 Alexander’s Co-Ruler? The sources are generous in delivering Alexander’s public validation of acts of Hephaestion, both in uncertain anecdotes or in historiographical passages. Among them, Hephaestion’s military appointment as Chiliarch is the best attested, as well as its correlation with Alexander’s affection. The office was arguably the highest military position in the empire after the king and was inspired by the Persian experience, hence it had a Persian name.59 Alexander assigned it to Hephaestion and hence raised the hetairos above the other commanders, granting him a leading role: as mentioned, Hephaestion was the commander of the king’s Companion Cavalry after Cleitus’ death and Alexander’s chief executive officer. As Heckel observed: “It was only with Alexander’s attempt to give greater military authority to his best friend, Hephaistion, that the foremost cavalry officer became the King’s military chief-of-staff.”60 Arrian says, while reporting Ptolemy’s news, that the position was so exceptional that after Hephaestion’s death, Alexander did not assign it to anyone else—although the remark might be incorrect and attributed to bias in Ptolemy’s History:61 “At any rate Alexander never appointed anyone in place of Hephaestion as Chiliarch over the Companions’ Cavalry, so that the name of Hephaestion might never be lost to the unit; the chiliarchy was still called Hephaestion’s, and the standard went before it which had been made by his order” (Arr. Anab. 7.14.10). 58 Carney (2006) 56–57. 59 See Heckel (2016) 294–97. Arr. Anab. 7.14.10, 5.23.7. Cf. Curt. 5.2.3; See Atkinson (1994) 58–59. See Diod. Sic. 18.48.4. Landucci (2008) 210–14. On the Chiliarchy as a Persian institution that gained glory with Alexander and was adopted by Antipater and Cassander, see also Briant (1996) 269–72. 60 Heckel (2016) 295. 61 Heckel (2016) 296.

516

D ’ Agostini

According to Arrian, Alexander named the Chiliarchy after Hephaestion. When he embodied the memory of his friend in the highest military appointment, Alexander showed its affective and personal nature. The Chiliarchy became eternally bonded to the most loved and loyal of his friends. Moreover, to confirm the exceptional nature of the gesture, only after Alexander’s death, Perdiccas emerged as “Chiliarch of the troops who had been under the command of Hephaestion,” which, Arrian says, “amounted to entrusting him with the care of the whole empire” (Arr. Succ. 1a. 3). Although the circumstances of Hephaestion’s appointment are unclear, the gesture manifested Alexander’s intention to inscribe his friend into the political structures, at the highest level. It stressed the special role that Hephaestion assumed in the management of the new empire envisioned by Alexander. Consistently, a first-century CE papyrus recently published (POxy. 5535)62 lists, in the surviving part, the biography of the Diadochi who had the regency of Alexander’s empire after his death: Perdiccas, Antipater, Polyperchon. The previous section of the papyrus mentioned also some other biographies, now almost completely lost. However, the surviving text says that Perdiccas had the Chiliarchy because Hephaestion had died and Craterus had been sent to Macedon.63 Hephaestion and Craterus are paired as the two most likely to lead the empire after Alexander’s death, because they were the closest to the king. However, Hephaestion is singled out as Alexander’s first choice, and his position is marked by the Chiliarchy. The papyrus agrees with Arrian that it was only because of his death the others became eligible as military leaders of Alexander’s empire. Alexander’s appointment of Hephaestion as Chiliarch is related to other two public acts of the king. In spring 324 in Susa, at the wedding between Greek and Macedonian officers and Persian noble women, Alexander married Darius’ eldest daughter and gave Drypetis, another daughter of Darius, sister of his own wife, to Hephaestion because, Arrian says, he desired their children to be cousins.64 The wedding manifested the intention of Alexander to build a dynastic connection with his friend. It included Hephaestion not only in the image of power projected by his basileia, but also in the breeding of the future leadership of the empire. 62 Parsons 2021, 16–26; Dellavedova 2023, 67–90. 63 Col. I ll. 11–17: χε[ιλία]ρχοϲ γοῦν | [ πεδε]ίχθη, τελ̣ευτή|[ϲαντοϲ] μὲν Ἡϕαιϲτίω|[νοϲ Κρατ]έρου ̣ δ’ εἰϲ τὴν | [c. 7]  πεϲταλμέ|[νου c. 6] [̣   ] ̣ ο̣ νδα. Col. I ll. 4–5 mention the greatest of Alexander’s friends, but the name is missing. 64 Arr. Anab. 7.4.5. See Bosworth (1988a) 164; Baynham (2022) 149–168 with bibliography; see also Sisti and Zambrini (2004) 588–89; Heckel (2016) 95–96. Arrian says her name was Barsine, although he is likely mistaking her for Statira.

The Affective Nature of Command

517

Moreover, Alexander granted unprecedented funerary honors to Hephaes­ tion to display Hephaestion’s prominence in Alexander’s court and the officiality of their personal relationship.65 By granting him king-like ceremonies, requiring divine honors for him, and dedicating great funerary projects to him to show the extent of his loss, Alexander distinguished Hephaestion from the other Philoi and their relationship from the others after his death as he had done when he was alive.66 In the last part of the expedition, when building the new empire, Alexander increasingly separated Hephaestion from the other Macedonians through official gestures: through the joint marriage, whose dynastic consequence paved the way for the next generation of royalty; through the honors requested for the late Hephaestion, which bonded the understanding of Alexander’s kingship to the memory of his friend. Alexander marked the exceptionality of Hephaestion also, and above all, with a military appointment, the Chiliarchy, which made Hephaestion the highest commander of the Macedonian army. Alexander’s public gestures towards Hephaestion convey the king’s will to integrate his friend into the political and military core of his empire, past, present and future, as a co-leader.67 At the core of the military and political structure of Alexander’s empire was an affective bond shaped as an equal friendship, based on reciprocity and freedom of speech, but rooted in a vision that Alexander and Hephaestion shared of the world they were building together. Alexander and Hephaestion mutually favored each other: Hephastion’s love for Alexander manifested in his loyalty and extraordinary commitment to the king’s vision (also shown by his behavior in the Philotas and Callisthenes episodes). Alexander’s personal attachment to Hephaestion brought him into competition with the most highly regarded of Alexander’s companions and prompted the growth of Hephaestion’s military authority. Eventually, their affective bond assumed 65 Diod. Sic. 17.110.7–8; Polyaenus, Strat. 4.3.31; Plut. Alex. 72.1–8. See also Reames (2010) 183–216; Ogden (2011) 160–65; Prandi (2013) 196–99. 66 Among the many fictional details enriched the literary accounts, Arrian mentions the following episode: Arr. Anab. 7.14.1–10. While on his way to Babylon, Alexander met some Epidaurian emissaries from Greece and gave them a votive offering to take back to Asclepius, saying: “Yet Asclepius has not been kind to me, in failing to save for me the comrade whom I valued as much as my life” (Arr. Anab. 7.14.7). After Hephaestion’s death, Alexander spread the publicity and officiality of their relationship, whose shadow was cast beyond Alexander’s Asiatic realm and reached one of the most sacred Greek shrines. Although the historicity of this last (hyperbolic) anecdote cannot be ascertained, it well reflects Alexander’s intention to inscribe Hephaestion in his political affairs. 67 Heckel (2016) 95 describes Hephaestion as Alexander’s “Partner in the New Empire.”

518

D ’ Agostini

an official military and political dimension manifested and embodied in the Chiliarchy and the double royal wedding. 2.3 Peucestas A last interesting case of the affective dimension of military leadership is the case of Peucestas.68 He was the brother of one of Alexander’s bodyguards, Amyntas. They were the sons of Alexander of Mieza, where they likely shared with the king Artistotle’s tutelage. Possibly because of his high birth, Peucestas was appointed as a Macedonian trierarch of the Hydaspes fleet (Arr. Ind. 18.6). During the march in the Indus valley, he saved the king’s life:69 in 326/5, Alexander attacked the city of the Malli and found himself wounded inside the walls with a few men defending him. Alexander was severely hit and was faint with exhaustion. Afterwards he fell because of loss of blood. Peucestas, together with some other soldiers, defended and shielded the king, but was injured while saving Alexander’s life. To thank him for his bravery, in 325 Alexander created a special position for him, says Arrian: the king added an eighth bodyguard to the seven royal somatophylakes, who were Lysimachos, Aristonous, Peithon, Hephaestion, Leonnatos, Perdiccas, and Ptolemy.70 The position was exceptional and temporary, specifically for Peucestas, who in 324 was also given a golden crown in Susa because of his heroic behavior in the city of the Malli (Arr. Anab. 7.5.4). Moreover, Alexander appointed him satrap of Persis, which until then had been ruled by Iranian satraps. During his appointment he exchanged letters with the king. They are transmitted by Plutarch’s Life of Alexander, who likely used Chares as source, and are considered authentic. The correspondence shows the king’s appreciation for his friend and his concern for Peucestas’ health after a hunting incident 68 Heckel (2006) 203–205; Muccioli (2017) 75–91. See also Wiesehöfer (1994) 50–56, (2007) 37–49, (2010) 107–21. 69 According to a tradition rooted in Aristobulus: Diod. Sic. 17.99.4; Plut. Alex. 63.3–9 and Mor. 341c; Arr. Anab. 6.9.1–6.11.8; Arr. Ind. 19.8; Curt. 9.5.12–18; Itin. 115; Ps. Callisth. 3.4.14–15. Cf. Plut. Mor. 327b, 343d–345b and Paus. 1.6.2. On the differences between the many versions of the episode and on the sources, see recently Muccioli (2019) 223–49. According to Muccioli, Aristobulus’ tradition locates the events in the territory of the Malli and names Peucestas as Alexander’s rescuer. The tradition that switched Peucestas with Ptolemy and situated the episodes among the Indian tribe of the Oxydracians owes to Clitarchus’ and Timagenes’ alteration. See also Bosworth (1988b) 80–81; Atkinson (2000) 539–42; Sisti and Zambrini (2004) 530–35; Prandi (2013) 165. To a philo-Ptolemaic tradition adverse to Peucestas belongs also the news of him being involved in Alexander’s poisoning. This survived in the Alexander Romance (Ps. Callisth. 3.31.8). 70 Arr. Anab. 6.28.3–4 (from Aristobulus BNJ 139 F50) and 6.30.2. Heckel (2016) 259.

The Affective Nature of Command

519

with a bear.71 In the first letter he praises Peucestas for capturing Nicon, the slave of Craterus. Similarly, in a letter to Hephaestion he informs his friend that Craterus had fallen on Perdiccas’ javelin and injured his thigh.72 These communications indicate Alexander’s effort to keep his closest friends in contact and informed: he values Peucestas’ act because he appreciated cooperation among his highest collaborators. In a second letter to Peucestas (F25), not only is Alexander worried about his friend’s condition after the hunting incident, but he also commits himself to take care of his well-being. He claims the role of provider for the health and happiness of his collaborator, demanding the names of those who were with Peucestas during the hunt and who abandoned him. Monti recently observed that Alexander might replicate the Persian King’s attitude toward his subjects: as an intermediary between god and men, he is the guarantor of justice and the well-being of his people.73 Notably, in a following letter Alexander again requests information on the health condition of Peucestas, offering an example of the king’s duties: Alexander, as king, must be able to take care of his friends and ensure them his support and interest. Their relationship, although unequal, was mutual and personal: it rested on patterns of behavior which integrated the affective element into the managerial structure. Like Hephaestion, Peucestas shared Alexander’s path of inclusion of Persian custom in the Macedonian Empire, as Arrian says: “As satrap of the Persians he appointed Peucestas the bodyguard, regarding him as especially loyal to him, and chiefly on account of his heroism among the Mallians, where he risked his life and helped to save Alexander, and moreover, by reason of his Oriental way of life he was not unsuited to the Persians” (Arr. Anab. 6.30.2). After he was appointed as the satrap of Persis, he learned the Persian language and adopted Persian dress, winning Alexander’s praise for this.74 Diodorus also mentions the king’s appreciation for Peucestas when he was given approval to wear the Persian dress.75 Peucestas was not the only one of Alexander’s friends and Successors to adopt Persian practices. Although most of Alexander’s generals abandoned their Persian wives, the historiographical sources at times report the display of Persian attitude by the king’s friends and Successors, while criticizing them. 71 72 73 74 75

On the letters, Monti (2023) 117–19 (F 24–26) and 201–204 (commentary). There remains debate on the authenticity of the letters, see Monti (2023) 51–66. Monti (2023) 115 (F20). Monti (2023) 203–204. Arr. Anab. 6.30.2. See Bosworth (1980b) 1–21. Diod. Sic. 19.14.7. On the historiography on Peucestas see Muccioli (2017) 75–91: the information on Peucestas was negatively affected by the Antigonid literary tradition.

520

D ’ Agostini

Muccioli recently listed the references to the Successors’ use of Persian traditions. He names, among them, episodes involving Harpalus, Cleitus, Perdiccas, Craterus, and Leonnatus showing their allegiance to Alexander’s vision of kingship.76 To these, Hephaestion can be added. These men were all bonded to Alexander personally, and were his closest friends: Alexander made sure they were in contact with each other and informed of each other’s deeds, and, after Susa, they were also related to each other through their wives. Although they all shared to different extents Alexander’s vision of power as comprising Persian elements, Peucestas’ adhesion to Alexander’s vision went beyond that of most of them. At Opis, Alexander wanted to reorganize the army, starting with the phalanx, which became a commingling of Iranians and Macedonians (Arr. Anab. 7.6.3). As stressed by Anson, Alexander’s goal was to create an army with no national identity but loyal to him personally.77 According to Arrian (7.23.1–5) and Diodorus (17.110.2), Peucestas brought to the king twenty thousand Persian bowmen and slingers, who Alexander placed with his other soldiers, in order to create his new military force. The Iranians were particularly loyal to Peucestas, says Arrian, whom they followed with enthusiasm: “Then he commended the Persians for their enthusiasm, in that they had in all things obeyed Peucestas, and Peucestas himself too for his orderly government of them” (Arr. Anab. 7.23.3). The Macedonian soldiers ill-received the innovation: a riot broke out in the camp among the Macedonian troops, which Alexander quieted with some difficulties.78 The support of the Persian troops trained by Peucestas was crucial to the king’s capacity to impose his will and resolve the situation.79 After the king clashed with his Macedonian soldiers, he only received his Persian generals and, besides his bodyguards, for several days only interacted with the Persian soldiers. Alexander assigned to the Persians high commands, drafted them into various ranks and appointed a Persian pezhetairoi corps, 76 Muccioli (2017) 75–91. The ancient sources, namely Phylarchus, Agatharchides, and Duris of Samos, often blame the generals for their show of luxury and personality cult. 77 Anson (2020) 227–41. 78 Diod. Sic. 17.108.2–3, 109.2–3; Plut. Alex. 71.1–5; Arr. Anab. 7.8.1–12.4; Just. Epit. 12.11.5–12.10 and Curt. 10.2.8–4.2. See Carney (1996), 19–44. 79 Zambrini (2004), 597–608 argues that the Macedonians revolted because they perceived their political relevance as increasingly reduced by Persianizing. However, he argues that the revolt, although it was linked to the one at the Hyphasis, was also very different: the percentage of foreigners in the army had changed and Alexander was thus in a stronger position in Opis than at the Hyphasis. See also Brice (2019) 38–39 and Brice in this volume.

The Affective Nature of Command

521

a Persian Companion Cavalry corps and a new Royal Squadron.80 This led the Macedonians to seek the king’s pardon, shamed by the loyalty of the Persians to Alexander. In the end, a banquet and a ritual took place, which involved 9,000 people, Macedonians and Persians next to each other around Alexander. The ceremony was led by Greek prophets and the Magians, to celebrate harmony and community of rule.81 As Roisman recently stressed,82 Peucestas’ case demonstrates the importance of demonstrative support (in saving the king’s life) and shared views (towards the Iranian policy) for the king’s friendship. Nevertheless, Peucestas’ active collaboration in the reorganization of the army, I think, better demonstrates the multilayered affective nature of command. The military commander built a strong personal bond with his soldiers, whom he led in battle but with whom he also shared most of his life. While Peucestas showed his soldiers he cared about them by learning their language and customs, they in return granted him loyalty and affection. This allegiance he was able to transfer to Alexander by virtue of their affective relationship. Friendship portrayed and perceived as more than the obedience between monarch and subject was a structural component of Alexander’s monarchy which gave the king control and loyalty. 3

Conclusions

Alexander’s, as well as Philip’s, court was, a “complicated web of relationships radiating outward from his royal authority,” as recently determined by Pownall, and was elaborate, international and multidimensional.83 Given the military nature of the Macedonian monarchy, military skills were a prerequisite to occupy the highest ranks: trained commanders were at the core of the decisional process and management.84 The emotional component played a limited role in Philip’s rule, emerging only in relations with his relatives, for powerful personalities and shifting coalitions largely determined the advancement 80 Diod. 17.109.3; Curt. 10.3.14; Plut. Alex. 71.5; Arr. Anab. 7.11.3–5. According to Just. Epit. 12.12.4 they were included among the bodyguards. 81 Arr. Anab. 7.11.8–9. Curt. 10.4.3; According to Muccioli (2017) 75–91, Peucestas performed a similar ritual around 317 or 316 in Persepolis: Diod. Sic. 19.22. This would be a Macedonian military cult that absorbed some Persian features to celebrate Philip’s and Alexander’s leadership. 82 Roisman (2020) 165–85. 83 Pownall (2022) 1–14. 84 Heckel (2016) 243–80; Anson (2022) 17–31.

522

D ’ Agostini

in the chain of command.85 However, the further Alexander marched in the Persian Empire, the weaker the Macedonian coalitions and lobbies became. The young king, conversely, increasingly valued friendship as a main advancement criterion in the leading roles of his monarchy. Friendship with Alexander implicated a strong emotional bond:86 it was an affective bond derived from familiarity and from a display of loyalty and support, as in the cases of Cleitus and Peucestas. But a shared vision appears to emerge as the leading factor in Alexander’s affective bonds after 329/8. The complete adhesion to the project of a new Irano-Macedonian Empire gradually became a selection criterion to establish an affective relationship with the king. Peucestas and Hephaestion enthusiastically shared Alexander’s enterprise, were proactive in their support, in so doing grew dearest to the king, and, consequently, advanced in the military ranks. Others, like Cleitus, were removed due to their distance from Alexander’s project, despite their court influence or familial relation and closeness to him. The competition at court to acquire career advancement focused on the display of affection and loyalty to the king, and devotion to his project. To be a Friend of the king, the commanders actually had to be friends of the king, to have a strong personal bond with him. Alexander replaced merit, wealth, and social origin with friendship as a leadership requirement. In doing so, the king united his hetairoi to himself even after his death. The Diadochi placed the affective bond with Alexander at the core of their rules, stressing their personal relationship with the king as crucial to the legitimacy of their claim to Hellenistic kingship. Works Cited Alonso Troncoso, V. (2007) “Alexander, Cleitus and Lanice: Upbringing and Maintenance,” in Heckel, Tritle, and Wheatley (2007) 109–23. Anson, E. M. (2009) “Philip II, Amyntas Perdicca, and Macedonian Royal Succession.” Historia 58: 276–86. Anson, E. M. (2014) Alexander’s Heirs, the Age of the Successors. Oxford. Anson, E. M. (2015) Eumenes of Cardia: A Greek among Macedonians, 2nd edn. Leiden. Anson, E. M. (2020) “The Father of the Army: Alexander and the Epigoni,” in D’Agostini, Anson, and Pownall (2020) 227–41. 85 Heckel (2003) 197–225. 86 Anson (2015) 55.

The Affective Nature of Command

523

Anson, E. M. (2022) “Philip and Alexander and the Nature of Their Personal Kingship,” in Pownall, Asirvatham, and Müller (2022) 17–31. Arena, E. (2003) “La lettera di Oleveni. Fra Filippo II et Filippo V di Macedonia.” REA 105: 49–82. Asirvatham, S. (2020) “Alexander’s Wet-Nurse Lanice and Her Sons,” in D’Agostini, Anson, and Pownall (2020) 37–50. Atkinson, J. E. (1980) A Commentary on Q. Curtius Rufus’ Historiae Alexandri Magni. Books 3 and 4. Amsterdam. Atkinson, J. E. (1994) A Commentary on Q. Curtius Rufus’ Historiae Alexandri Magni. Books 5 to 7.2. Amsterdam. Atkinson, J. E. (2000) Storie di Alessandro di Curzio Rufo. II. Milan. Badian, E. (1998) “Hephaistion.” DNP 5: 350. Badian, E. (2000) “Conspiracies,” in Bosworth and Baynham (2000) 50–95. Baynham, E. (1998) Alexander the Great. The Unique History of Quintus Curtius. Ann Arbor, MI. Baynham, E. (2022) “Bosworth on Alexander and the Iranians revisited: Alexander’s Marriages to Persian Brides in Susa: A Study of Arrian, Anabasis 7.4.4–8” In Pownall, Asirvatham, and Muller (2022) 149–68. Bearzot, C., Landucci, F., and Zecchini, G. (ed) (2003) Gli stati territoriali nel mondo antico. CSA 1. Milan. Benaissa, A. and Zellmann-Rohrer, M. (eds) (2021) The Oxyrhynchus Papyri, LXXXVI. London. Bosman, P. (ed) (2014) Alexander in Africa. Pretoria. Bosworth, A. B. (1980a) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander. I. Books I–III. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1980b) “Alexander and the Iranians.” JHS 100:1–21. Bosworth, A. B. (1988a) Conquest and Empire: The Reign of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Bosworth, A. B. (1988b) From Arrian to Alexander. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1995) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander. II. Books IV–V. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (2002) The Legacy of Alexander: Politics, Warfare and Propaganda under the Successors. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. and Baynham, E. (eds) (2000) Alexander the Great in Fact and Fiction. Oxford. Briant, P. (1973) Antigone le Borgne. Les débuts de sa carrière et les problèmes de l’assemblée macédonienne. Paris. Briant, P. (1996) Histoire de l’empire perse de Cyrus à Alexandre. Paris. Carney, E. D. (1981) “The Death of Cleitus.” GRBS 22: 149–60.

524

D ’ Agostini

Carney, E. D. (1983) “Regicide in Macedonia.” PP 211: 60–72. Carney, E. D. (1996/2015) “Macedonians and Mutiny: Discipline and Indiscipline in the Army of Philip and Alexander.” CPh 91: 19–44; republished with new “Afterword” in Carney (2015) 27–59. Carney, E. D. (2000) Women and Monarchy in Macedonia. Norman, OK. Carney, E. D. (2006) Olympias, Mother of Alexander the Great. London. Carney, E. D. (2015) King and Court in Ancient Macedonia: Rivalry, Treason and Conspiracy. Swansea. Cartledge, P. and Greenland, F. R. (eds) (2010) Responses to Oliver Stone’s Alexander: Film, History, and Cultural Studies. Madison, WI. Coloru, O. (2009) Da Alessandro a Menandro: il regno greco di Battriana. Rome. Curtis, V. S. and Stewart, S. (eds) (2007) The Age of the Parthians: The Idea of Iran, 2 vols. London. D’Agostini, M., Anson, E. M., and Pownall, F. (eds) (2020) Affective Relations and Personal Bonds in Hellenistic Antiquity. Studies in Honor of Elizabeth D. Carney. Oxford. Dellavedova, G. R. (2023) “Un nuovo catalogo di diadochi (p.oxy. 5535): traduzione e commento storico.” Aevum 97: 67–90. Erskine, A. and Llewellyn-Jones, L. (eds) (2011) Creating a Hellenistic World. Swansea. Gilley, D. L. and Worthington, I. (2010) “Alexander the Great, Macedonia and Asia,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 186–207. Gonzales, A. and Biondi, E. (eds) (2019) Revisiter l’esclavage: d’hier à aujourd’hui. Besançon. Greenwalt, W. S. (1988) “The Marriageability Age at the Argead court: 360–317 BC.” CW 82: 93–97. Greenwalt, W. S. (2020) “Callisthenes the Prig,” in D’Agostini, Anson, and Pownall (2020) 187–93. Hammond, N. G. L. (1994) Philip of Macedon. London. Heckel, W. (1983–1984) “Kynnane the Illyrian.” RSA 13–14, 193–200. Heckel, W. (1986) “Somatophylakia: A Macedonian ‘Cursus Honorum.’” Phoenix 40: 279–94. Heckel, W. (2003) “King and ‘Companions’: Observations on the Nature of Power in the Reign of Alexander,” in Roisman (2003) 197–225. Heckel, W. (2006) Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander the Great: Prosopography of Alexander’s Empire. Malden, MA. Heckel, W. (2016) Alexander’s Marshals: A Study of the Makedonian Aristocracy and the Politics of Military Leadership, 2nd edn. New York. Heckel, W. (2020) In the Path of Conquest: Resistance to Alexander the Great. New York. Heckel, W., Tritle, L., and Wheatley, P. (eds) (2007) Alexander’s Empire: Formulation to Decay. Claremont, CA.

The Affective Nature of Command

525

Howe, T. (2015) “Cleopatra-Eurydike, Olympias and a ‘Weak’ Alexander,” in Wheatley and Baynham (2015) 133–46. Howe, T. (2020) “Friendship is Golden: Harpalus, Alexander and Athens,” in D’Agostini, Anson and Pownall (2020) 195–211. Howe, T., Pownall, F., and Poletti, B. (eds) (2018) Ancient Macedonians in Greek and Roman Sources: From History to Historiography. Swansea. King, C. J. (2010) “Macedonian Kingship and Other Political Institutions,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 373–91. Krentz, P. and Wheeler, E. L. (eds) (1994) Polyaenus. Stratagems of War, 2 vols. Chicago. Landucci Gattinoni, F. (2003) “Tra monarchia nazionale e monarchia militare: il caso della Macedonia,” in Bearzot, Landucci, and Zecchini (2003) 199–224. Landucci Gattinoni, F. (2008) Diodoro Siculo. Biblioteca Storica. Libro XVIII. Commento Storico. Milan. Landucci Gattinoni, F. (2019) “Gli ‘amici’ del re: collaborator o servi del loro sovrano?” in Gonzales and Biondi (2019) 123–37. Leroy, P.-O. (2017) Arrien. L’art tactique. Histoire de la succession d’Alexandre. Textes introduits, traduits et commentés. Paris. McKechnie, P. (1995) “Diodorus Siculus and Hephaistion’s Pyre.” CQ 45: 418–32. Monti, G. (2023) Alexander the Great. Letters: A Selection. Liverpool. Muccioli, F. (2017) “Peucesta, tra lealismo macedone e modello persiano.” Electrum 24: 75–91. Muccioli, F. (2019) “Lo scontro di Alessandro con i Malli in Plutarco. Realtà storica e deformazione.” HiMA 8: 223–49. Müller, S. (2010) “Philip II,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 166–85. Müller, S. (2018) “Hephaistion: A Re-assessment of His Career,” in Howe, Pownall, and Poletti (2018) 77–102. O’Sullivan, L. (2015) “Callisthenes and Alexander the Invincible God,” in Wheatley and Baynham (2015) 35–52. Ogden, D. (2011) Alexander the Great: Myth, Genesis, and Sexuality. Exeter. Ogden, D. (2020) “The Theft of Bucephalas,” in D’Agostini, Anson, and Pownall (2020) 143–61. Parsons, P. J. (2021) “5535. Lives of the Diadochoi,” in Benaissa and Zellmann-Rohrer (2021) 16–26. Pownall, F. (2014) “Callisthenes in Africa: The Historian’s Role at Siwah and in the Proskynesis Controversy,” in Bosman (2014) 56–71. Pownall, F. (2020) “Sophists and Flatterers: Greek Intellectuals at Alexander’s Court,” in D’Agostini, Anson, and Pownall (2020) 243–65. Pownall, F. (2022) “Introduction,” in Pownall, Asirvatham, and Müller (2022) 1–14. Pownall, F., Asirvatham, S. R., and Müller, S. (eds) (2022) The Courts of Philip II and Alexander the Great: Monarchy and Power in Ancient Macedonia. Berlin.

526

D ’ Agostini

Prandi, L. (1985) Callistene. Uno storico tra Aristotele e i re macedoni. Milan. Prandi, L. (1998) “A Few Remarks on the Amyntas Conspiracy,” in Will (1998) 91–101. Prandi, L. (2012) “New Evidence for the Dating of Cleitarchus (POxy LXXI.4808)?” Histos 6: 15–26. Prandi, L. (2013) Diodoro Siculo. Biblioteca Storica. Libro XVII. Commento Storico. Milano. Reames-Zimmerman, J. (1999) “An Atypical Affair? Alexander the Great, Hephaistion Amyntoros and the Nature of Their Relationship.” AHB 13.3: 81–96. Reames, J. (2010) “The Cult of Hephaestion,” in Cartledge and Greenland (2010) 183–216. Roisman, J. (ed) (2003) Brill’s Companion to Alexander the Great. Leiden. Roisman, J. (2020) “Alexander’s Friends,” in D’Agostini, Anson, and Pownall (2020) 165–85. Roisman, J. and Worthington, I. (eds) (2010) A Companion to Ancient Macedonia. Malden, MA. Savalli Lestrade, I. (1998) Les Philoi royaux dans l’Asie hellénistique. Geneva. Savalli Lestrade, I. (2001) “Amici del re, alti funzionari e gestione del potere principalmente nell’Asia Minore ellenistica.” Simblos 3: 263–94. Schachermeyr, F. (1973) Alexander der Große. Vienna. Simonetti Agostinetti, A. (1993) Flavio Arriano. Gli eventi dopo Alessandro. Rome. Sisti, F. and Zambrini, A. (2004) Arriano. Anabasi di Alessandro, 2 vols. Milan. Stadter, P. A. (1980) Arrian of Nicomedia. Chapel Hill, NC. Stagakis, G. S. (1970) “Observations on the hetairoi of Alexander the Great.” Ancient Macedonia 1: 86–102. Virgilio, B. (2003) Lancia, diadema e porpora. Il re e la regalità ellenistica. Pisa. Wheatley, P. and Baynham, E. (eds) (2015) East and West in the World Empire of Alexander: Essays in Honour of Brian Bosworth. Oxford. Will, W. (ed) (1998) Alexander der Grosse: eine Welteroberung und ihr Hintergrund, Vorträge des Internationalen Bonner Alexanderkolloquium. Bonn. Wiesehöfer, J. (1994) Die dunklen Jahrhunderte der Persis. Untersuchungen zu Geschichte und Kultur von Fārs in frühhellenistischer Zeit (330–140 v.Ch.). Munich. Wiesehöfer, J. (2007) “Fars under Seleucid and Parthian Rule,” in Curtis and Stewart (2007) 37–49. Wiesehöfer, J (2011) “Frataraka Rule in Early Seleucid Persia: A New Appraisal,” in Erskine and Llewellyn-Jones (2011) 107–21. Yardley, J. C. and Develin, R. (1994) Justin. Epitome of the Philippic History of Pompeius Trogus. Atlanta, GA.

Part 7 The Human Cost of War

∵

Chapter 20

Women in War Elizabeth D. Carney In 1803, in Epirus, homeland of Alexander’s mother Olympias, the women of Souli hurled themselves (and some of their children) from a cliff at Zalongo rather than be captured, raped, and killed, or enslaved by the forces of Ali Pasha. Their actions resembled those of some groups of ancient peoples confronted with Macedonian forces.1 Today, refugees, heavily women and children, flee war, violence, and rape (sometimes used as an instrument of war), often only to confront danger, rape, and death in refugee camps.2 We are all familiar with Rosie the Riveter posters from World War II encouraging women to take on jobs usually performed by men to help the war effort, but are perhaps less familiar with posters and campaigns that focused on alleviating food shortages at home, an issue that existed although the civilian population in the US was never in military danger. In one poster, a little girl (with shelves of preserved vegetables behind her and jars in the process of being filled in front of her) looks to her mother and says, “We’ll have lots to eat this winter, won’t we Mother?” The legend at the bottom of the poster urges the viewer to “Grow your own; Can your own.”3 Women on the home front during the campaign of Alexander were likely never in physical danger either, but a significant portion of the male population was gone for at least eleven years, during which a prolonged grain shortage gripped much of the Greek peninsula. Women likely therefore performed more non-traditional tasks, confronting concerns about their food supply. Examining the role of women in the wars of Philip II and Alexander broadens and complicates our understanding of these events but also compels us to recognize how similar many of their experiences were to those of women during more recent conflicts.

1 Holt (2016, 48, n. 18) points to Diod. Sic. 17.28.1–5 about a village in Lycia in 334; Curtius (4.4.12) speaks of suicides after the fall of Tyre; Curtius (5.6.7–8) says that at Persepolis whole families threw themselves from the walls of the city or set fire to their own houses, though Alexander finally ordered his troops to spare women and their jewelry. 2 See, for instance, discussion in Leatherman (2007). 3 http://ap.gilderlehrman.org/history-by-era/world-war-ii/essays/every-citizen-soldier-world -war-ii-posters-american-home-front US Office of War Information.

© Elizabeth D. Carney, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_022

530

Carney

Despite increasing scholarly attention to the role of women in Greek warfare generally,4 no more than passing reference has been directed specifically at women in the campaigns of Philip and Alexander in Europe or Asia. The attention of ancient historians followed the armies, making it hard for current historians to look in the opposite direction and think about the situation of women on the home front. We can somewhat more easily know things about the fate of the women at the “sharp end” of Macedonian wars than about the mothers, wives and daughters left at home, since ancient authors do refer, sporadically, to civilian populations encountered by Greco-Macedonian and Persian forces. I examine the experiences of both categories of women, recognizing that I generate more questions than answers but believing that even the questions are useful. Relevant source material requires careful reading. While ancient narratives do sometimes provide figures apparently relevant to the circumstances of women—for instance, how many people were taken captive after a given battle—these “statistics” are at best impressionistic and at worst fictional. This is true for several reasons: ancient fondness for certain numbers (most notably “30,000”), exaggeration, propaganda, and willingness to offer apparent specificity despite insufficient information.5 Such numerical information should be used with extreme caution. Ancient sources may exaggerate the severity of human experience and assert that the entire population of a town was killed or enslaved when exceptions were made. Some defeated cities were destroyed but ultimately re-founded. The harm done initially could, nonetheless, have been severe. Recovery a decade or two after an initial destruction could have long term consequences, particularly considering ancient life expectancy.6

4 See Carney (2021) for recent overview and bibliography, especially Gaca (2015, 2016) for the use of rape as an instrument of terror in antiquity; see Müller in this volume. 5 Holt (2016) 13–14, on the “patterning” of Greek figures for casualties and other items, especially for the preference number 30,000. See also Rubincam (2021). Rzepka (2017) argues that the casualty figures for Alexander’s campaign are so systematic as to suggest the possible existence of some sort of official record. 6 Kleu (2019, 219) seems cheered that after Alexander killed or enslaved virtually the entire population of Thebes in 335, Cassander rebuilt it in 316 and the “surviving Thebans were allowed to come home” (Diod. Sic. 19.54.1). Of course, this happened nearly twenty years later. Kleu’s discussion generally tends to scant immediate experience in favor of the long term, the historical. Similarly, Corvisier (2002a) intent on defending the reputation of Philip II, is so apologetic as to be implausible, not to mention inhumane. For instance, he notes (2002a, 69) that all the inhabitants of Potidaea were not sold after it was taken, just enough to pay the cost of the campaign.

Women in War

531

Ancient warfare was not conducted simply for glory or power, but also for profit, via assets, human and not, acquired by conquest.7 In the Greek peninsula and in Asia many women were, if taken captive by Macedonian forces, raped, and sold as slaves. Other enslaved men and women accompanied the army. Apart from acquisition of wealth, pillaging of people, especially entire peoples, and goods had political motivation (for instance, revenge or punishment for refusal to surrender), though cultural/ethnic prejudice inspired such acts as well. Wars disrupted economic ways of life, causing further death. 1

Women and the Campaigns of Philip II

A military disaster in 359 made Philip II king: Perdiccas III, Philip’s older brother, fell in battle against the Illyrians, along with 4,000 other Macedonians (Diod. Sic. 16.2.4–6).8 Illyrian incursions had happened on numerous occasions in Macedonian history, but the scale of this event was greater, the disruption and danger it generated more severe; upper Macedonia was likely in Illyrian hands. After this massacre, incursions by the Paeonians, continuing Illyrian military pressure, and threats from several pretenders to the throne with outside backing menaced Macedonia. Many women must have had to flee, taking children and the elderly with them. Presumably many women were suddenly widowed, and some must have been captured by the Illyrians, likely sold as slaves. Philip, however, quickly transformed defeat into triumph: having dealt with would-be claimants to the throne, he remodeled the army, inflicted a decisive defeat on the Illyrians (Diod. Sic. 16.3.1–6), and was soon attacking other powers and himself defeating and occasionally destroying cities, sometimes capturing a large percentage of a city’s populace, and enslaving many. The experience of women in Macedonia itself during Philip’s reign was mixed. After 357, they were likely not in physical danger unless they lived in areas Philip was forcibly incorporating into the kingdom, though Philip’s population transfers, ordered for primarily military reasons, must have caused

7 Antela-Bernardez (2015) is the first general discussion of enslavement on Alexander’s campaign. See also Scholl (1987). Antela-Bernardez (2015, 282) points out that Arrian and Curtius have more relevant information than other sources; Holt (2016) 45 notes that looting of people and goods was so normalized in ancient warfare that our narrative sources tend to mention only extreme cases. Moreover, such actions, not always sanctioned, would have been hard to quantify. 8 All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE except as indicated otherwise.

532

Carney

hardship to many.9 Still, Philip’s many victories enriched not only himself but Macedonians.10 Moreover, he settled not only elite but non-elite Macedonians on the lands newly acquired.11 Because Philip transformed Macedonia into an aggressive and acquisitive power, military-age Macedonians would have been gone on campaign far more frequently and for longer periods of time, granted Philip’s expansion further south and east. Thus, during Philip’s reign, women would frequently have been left for periods without husbands, fathers, and brothers, often uncertain about the survival of their male kin.12 Extant information about the legal situation of Macedonian women in this period implies that women who were widowed (either literally or perhaps functionally) could act legally at least in concert with sons.13 This development may have been born of necessity. The frequent campaigns of Philip raise an obvious (if previously unrecognized) question: how did the women, children, and elderly people left behind survive? Though Philip’s pay and the booty his soldiers acquired meant that the families of his troops were enriched to some degree, wealth alone does not explain how they survived, particularly since funds from absent males must have appeared only sporadically. The absence of Macedonian males, unless brief, therefore, raises the question of the fate of their families, farms, businesses, and herds in their absence. 9

Ellis (1969, 9–17), followed by Worthington (2008, 108–10), concludes that Philip’s motives for population transplants was military, primarily focused on frontiers. Justin (Epit. 8.5.7–6.2) gives a very hostile account of the process and of the resentment of the population, though, as Worthington and Ellis point out, it to some degree recalls Alexander’s speech at Opis: Arr. Anab. 7.9.2–5. As Millett (2010, 477) notes, some precedents for Philip’s actions happened in the reigns of Alexander I (Paus. 7.25.6), Perdiccas II (Thuc. 1.114.3) and Archelaus (Diod. Sic. 13.49.2). 10 He may have improved land by drainage, opening larger areas to arable farming, as Worthington (2008, 110) believed, thus increasing population, but no direct evidence supports this, though the only ancient evidence is for Philippi (Theophrastus de Caus. Plant. 5.14.6), not the Emathian plain, so Borza (1992) 16–18, who points out that the prevalence of malaria in the region also argues against drainage. 11 The status and circumstance of those granted land by Philip and Alexander is debatable; see Hammond (1988) for references and discussion. 12 Mortensen (1997, 168, fig. 5) provides “an approximate guide to Philip’s absences from the Macedonian court in the years 356–340.” While her context is a discussion of Olympias and of the comparative paucity of children Philip fathered despite his seven marriages, the chart is suggestive of the general experience of Philip’s troops, though not all would have gone on each campaign and some campaigns happened without Philip’s presence. 13 See discussion by Le Bohec-Bouhet (2006) 194, of two inscriptions, one from Amphipolis in 357, one from Tyrissa, in the third century of a widow owning property in combination with her son/s.

Women in War

533

Elite women whose families had extensive lands were probably relatively secure and could, like women of lesser means, have been assisted by family members.14 Households, particularly in urban areas, were centers of production as well as consumption; the absence of a skilled worker could be problematic. The current dominant view is that most Macedonian males, by the time of Philip, were subsistence farmers, though pastoralism was probably important too.15 Although no evidence demonstrates that a significant portion of Macedonians was unfree, some scholars have concluded, based on the presence of large semi-free populations elsewhere in the Greek world (e.g., the Helots and the Penestai) and the hierarchical nature of Macedonian society, that such a population category existed. Even if Ellis’ suggestion that the men who served as grooms, attendants, and wagon drivers were less than full citizens is correct,16 they too would have been absent during military campaigns, their families without their support. Women could have assumed some of the responsibilities previously taken by their men, but hardly all. A woman with several young children could not take herds to the mountains and plow agriculture was not easily performed by women, care of olive trees and vines only slightly more so.17 Herd animals need “constant, care, attendance.”18 Increased domestic production of salable items like textiles or pottery could have helped.19 The frequent absence of males may have contributed to growing utilization of the labor of enslaved people. Chattel slavery was common around the ancient Mediterranean, but the number of enslaved people, the percentage out of all inhabitants, varied from one place to another. I see no reason to assume 14 Chaniotis (2005, 113) argues that most warriors were men of some material means and so widows and orphans were taken care of by their families. It is not clear to what degree this would have been true in Macedonia, granted Philip’s increases in the size of the army. 15 Millett (2010) 477 seems to picture a switch in progress; Archibald (2013, 182–83) makes a convincing case for a combination of agriculture and pastoralism but not for transhumant practice. 16 So, Ellis (1976) 27; Billows (1995) 9–10, 136–37; Millett (2010) 478. Certainly, Hammond’s assumption that Macedonia was “essentially a free society” with no slaves or unfree population at all—(1976) 154–55, (1989) 10, 94, 159–60, 195—is unlikely. 17 Chaniotis (2005) 113–29 though noting that women took part in agriculture, observes that the season for war (late spring to late summer) was the season for harvesting, when grapes ripened, and when olive trees needed attention, and yet during a war, the work of men was not available. He also talks about long-term harm and associates these problems with the periodic food shortages of the period and the need of elite donations for grain. 18 Howe (2008) 56. 19 Harrington (2022), though focused on Olynthus, makes these general observations about male and female labor within a household pressed by war and limited or total lack of access to fields.

534

Carney

the existence of a significant population of enslaved people in Macedonia before the reign of Philip, at least outside the court elite and poleis on the edge of the kingdom. Philip’s many campaigns created a labor problem but also offered a potential solution. Philip’s successes generated a large supply of captives, many of whom would have been sold but some of whom could have been retained in Macedonia. In 348, having taken Olynthus, he plundered it and sold its inhabitants, the profits being used primarily to fund further campaigns. He also rewarded distinguished soldiers (Diod. Sic. 16.53.2–3; Just. Epit. 8.3.11; Dem. 9.26),20 possibly with human plunder. In 339, Philip defeated the Scythians, supposedly taking 20,000 women and children, as well as a similar number of horses. The Triballi robbed him of this human plunder (Just. Epit. 9.2.15–3), but the numbers, however rough, are suggestive. Demosthenes (19.156) ca. 346 refers to war captives digging in Philip’s vineyards. One can imagine a growing population of enslaved people working lands and businesses for absent Macedonians, people the fruit of conquest but necessary for the maintenance of Macedonian hegemony. There is indeed a bit more extant evidence for some sort of unfree population in Macedonia during the reign of Alexander (as well as more need), but it would have been easier to move newly minted slaves within the Greek peninsula than from Asia to Macedonia. It is difficult to conceive of how, during Philip’s reign, let alone that of Alexander (see below), many family farms could have successfully survived without the work of at least one slave. Women captured in Philip’s campaigns could have served as domestic servants, assistants in small-scale agriculture, or in the households of those better off, but most would have been sold, often prostituted. Thanks to Demosthenes’ partisan account (19.196–99), we know his version of the story of one such woman, captured after the fall of Olynthus and enslaved at Pella. Xenophron, son of an exiled Athenian, introduced her to a drinking party at his house. Demosthenes himself had refused to attend but claimed that Aeschines and other Athenian ambassadors went.21 Demosthenes (19.196) says the woman was forced to attend, recline, drink with attendees, and then required to sing (all things expected of prostitutes). She resisted and the drunken attendees including Aeschines had her beaten by another enslaved person, but she was saved from further punishment by Iatrocles. Demosthenes in no way questions 20 21

See Griffith (HM2) 321–28; Borza (1990) 218–19. His account is therefore not that of an eyewitness but depends on another man, Iatrocles (19.197). Aeschines (2.153–58) denies his assertions. The pair had become political enemies. Whatever the literal truth or falseness of this episode, it encapsulates the circumstance of female captives and the contradictory attitudes of free Greeks about enslavement.

Women in War

535

the enslavement of war captives or that women captives were often forced to prostitution.22 Because it suits his desire to engage the sympathies of his Athenian audience, he describes the woman as though she were still free and sexually modest, something impossible after years of enslavement.23 Of course, males were enslaved as well (e.g., Dem. 19. 156), but women more frequently were enslaved rather than killed. For most women, if their city was destroyed, ransom was not a likely option, even for the well-to-do.24 Sometimes Philip allowed the inhabitants of a defeated city to leave, but that turned them into refugees and, even if a neighboring city took them in or the city was re-founded many years later, they endured a life of hardship and uncertainty (Diod. Sic. 16.34.5; Just. Epit. 7.6.16).25 While ordinary women within Macedonia in Philip’s reign participated in warfare only in the sense of beings its victims and/or survivors, we do know of two women who were more directly connected to warfare themselves. Cynnane, Philip II’s daughter by Audata, apparently was trained in the arts of war by her mother, commanded troops, went into battle against the Illyrians, and killed a number, including another warrior woman. After the deaths of both Philip and Alexander, Cynnane died in what amounted to a military or quasi-military confrontation with the forces of Perdiccas, having first dealt with several efforts by the forces of Antipater to prevent her departure from Macedonia ca. 323 (Polyaenus, Strat. 8.60; Arrian FGrH 156, F 9.22–23).26 Cynnane’s daughter Adea Eurydice, trained by her mother for combat, wooed Macedonian troops by speaking in front of them, may have dressed as a Macedonian soldier, and appeared in front of an army. Olympias, mother of Alexander, had Adea Eurydice and her husband, Philip III Arrhidaeus, killed 22 Glazebrook (2021) 154, “Such a reading of Demosthenes 19.19698 suggests that free members of Athenian society, male or female, accepted sexual exploitation and a lack of sexual agency as a distinctive feature of slavery ….” 23 See Glazebrook (2021). Demosthenes (2.157) describes another drinking party, this time hosted by a hetairos of Philip, Xenodocus, in which a drunken Aeschines grabs a captive woman by the hair and beats her. Whether or not Aeschines so acted on these two occasions, Demosthenes is evidently describing typical behavior to enslaved women on such occasions. 24 Hunt (2021, 284) points out that if a city was taken by storm or surrendered unconditionally, no one would be left to ransom captives and there would be no treaty. On ransoming, see Bielman (1994) 236–37, 324–25, nos. 32, 38; Ducrey (1999) 283–88; Chaniotis (2005) 111–13. See also Baynham in this volume. 25 Two ancient authors provide contradictory accounts of Philip’s treatment of Methone; Corvisier (2002a, 68–70) prefers the less critical account of Justin, not necessarily plausibly. 26 See Carney (2000) 69–70, 129–31 for discussion and references.

536

Carney

in 317. Cassander later buried them (as well as Cynnane) at Aegae. We do not know if Adea Eurydice went into combat, but she certainly maintained a military persona.27 In addition, one female burial included military equipment. Tomb II under the Great Tumulus at Vergina (now generally agreed to be the site of Aegae, the burial place of Macedonian kings) contained a burial of a man, probably a king, in the main chamber and a female in the antechamber. The identity of the dead man is likely to have been either Philip II or his son, Alexander’s half-brother, Philip III Arrhidaeus. Assuming the male in the main chamber was a king from the second half of the fourth century, this woman can only have been a wife of Philip II or Adea Eurydice, the wife of Philip III Arrhidaeus. Both the male and female remains were placed in golden larnakes and wrapped in purple fabric, the larnakes then inserted in marble sarcophagi. A gold and ivory decorated couch stood in front of each sarcophagus. Whereas the male’s larnax also contained a golden oak wreath, the woman’s preserved a golden diadem. (A golden myrtle wreath was found near her sarcophagus.) Unsurprisingly, the main chamber held many military items, and yet more were partially consumed on the man’s funerary pyre. It was surprising that the antechamber burial also contained many military items. In the sealed doorway between the antechamber and the main chamber were a golden gorytus (a Scythian bow and arrow case with seventy-four arrows), a gold-trimmed spear or javelin head, ten alabastra, and in front two amphora, two gilded greaves, and another gold trimmed iron spear head. In front and to the right of the door was a gilded silver pectoral. To the right was another iron spear head. In front of the pectoral were two beautiful golden gorgoneia, along with rosettes and rings, all part of a corselet. Thus, her funerary goods included only one typically feminine item (the diadem), some items found in male and female burials (alabastra, an “Illyrian” type pin, the myrtle wreath) and many military items. The person who controlled the burials in Tomb II (likely either Alexander III or Cassander, son of Antipater) chose to construct a partially military image of her; we do not know if she went into combat, but she is commemorated as though she had done so.28

27 See Carney (2000) 132–37 for discussion and references. 28 Carney (2016) and Salminem (2017) take different views of whether the funerary goods commemorate the woman as a warrior. Antikas and Wynn-Antikas (2015) give the latest in the series of evaluations of the evidence of the human remains from the antechamber and conclude that the human remains may indicate that the dead woman was a habitual horseback rider. They argue for identifying her as a Scythian wife of Philip, though there is no evidence that Philip had a Scythian wife. Bartsiokas et al. (2023) believe that she was

Women in War

2

537

Women in the Campaigns of Alexander III

When Philip was assassinated in 336 and his son became king, matters in Macedonia were initially politically unstable (though we know of no specific internal military action) and war broke out north of Macedonia and much of the Greek peninsula threatened to revolt. Alexander dealt first with the “barbarian” threat and then dashed south with his army and not only defeated Thebes but killed the men and enslaved the women and children (Plut. Alex. 11.1–12.3; Diod. Sic. 17.3.1–4.8; Arr. Anab. 1.1.4–9.5; Just. Epit. 11.2.4–4.8). The Greeks then agreed to accept Alexander as his father’s replacement at the head of the League of Corinth and the joint Greco-Macedonian expedition invaded the Persian Empire in 334, though a preliminary force had been there since 336 (Diod. Sic. 16.91.2, 17.2.4; Just. Epit. 9.5.8–9). Very few of the men who left with Alexander returned to Macedonia during his reign, and comparatively few ever did. By the time of Alexander’s death in Babylon in 323, he and his men, or at least many of them, had been to the borders of modern India and back. Let me deal first with women in Europe. In Thrace, having defeated the men, Alexander took all the women and children (Arr. Anab. 1.1.13). As noted, Alexander’s treatment of the civilian population of Thebes was brutal; it was meant to be and was a cautionary tale. Supposedly, 6,000 men were killed and 30,000 taken captive.29 The story of Timoclea, sister of a famous Theban general who had fought and died at Chaeronea, if historical, is heavily manipulated by Plutarch in various tellings of her tale (Plut. Alex. 12.1–3; Mor. 259e–260d; see also Polyaenus, Strat. 8.40). The basic picture is that when Thebes was taken, a troop of Thracians came to her house and its commander not only despoiled the house but raped Timoclea and then forced her to show him where she had hidden more of her valuables. When he looked down the well where she had supposedly placed them, Timoclea, alone or with the help of her staff, pushed him down the well. His outraged troops brought her in front of Alexander, obviously expecting her to be punished, but he pardoned her (and in one version more of her family) because of her brother’s fame and her noble bearing; Alexander even warned that women of her status should not be treated like this in the future. In other words, she was apparently freed and not enslaved, but her city was to be razed and she and her household had no means of support. Plutarch’s narrative is focused on Alexander’s nobility, not Adea Eurydice, wife of Philip Arrhidaeus. The date of the tomb remains disputed, thus allowing for the possibility that the tomb pre- or post-dates the reign of Alexander. 29 Diod. Sic. 17.14.1–4; Aelian VH 13.7. Holt (2016) 49, n. 24, noting the generic 30,000 figure, based on Diodorus’ auction figures, suggests the numbers were lower.

538

Carney

on the suffering of the Theban women, but it is an inadvertently grim depiction about the best that could be expected, let alone the worst, for women after a city had fallen.30 The fate of another Theban woman named Phila (not the same-named daughter of Antipater) is more typical: she was enslaved when the city was sacked but was ransomed by Hypereides for twenty minas and kept on his estate at Eleusis (Plut. Mor. 849e); according to Athenaeus (13.590d) he not only ransomed her but freed her. Both sources describe Hypereides as fond of expensive hetairai (prostitutes). Toward the end of the twentieth century, an academic debate raged about the long-term impact of Alexander’s wars on “manpower” in Macedonia; woman power was not addressed. Brian Bosworth argued that they had both short-  (during Alexander’s reign) and long-term consequences (after his death).31 The long-term part of Bosworth’s argument remains unprovable because so many other events after Alexander’s death rendered Macedonia a dramatically unstable and often dangerous place (it remained so until Antigonus Gonatas, by ending the threat of further Gallic invasions, established himself as king). The case for population loss during Alexander’s reign, however, is compelling, not only because of factors Bosworth considered but also some he did not. Many of these factors relate to the situation of women. Richard Billows, attempting to disprove Bosworth’s argument in the short term (the reign of Alexander) as well as the long term, asserted that Macedonian women were, like all ancient women, “fertile,” able to produce future manpower for the king. The difficulty with Billows’ view is that their husbands (or many other adult males) would not have been around to father children. Apart from the newly married soldiers Alexander allowed to return to Macedonia in the first winter of the campaign in hopes that they would impregnate their wives (Arr. Anab. 1.24.2), relatively few men who marched with Alexander would have seen their wives again and if they did, not until after 323. By the time some did return, their wives, twelve or more years older, would have been less “fertile.” Moreover, reinforcements were sent out to Alexander on several occasions or called up by Antipater for service closer to home. Billows understands divorce, polygamy, and concubinage as solutions to the problems of “surplus” women created by male absence and sees them as a likely future source of more manpower.32 He claims that their fertility—the “birth rate”—would have 30 See recent discussion in Carney (2019) 147–48. 31 Bosworth (1986, 2002); Hammond (1984); Griffith (HM2); Badian (1994); Billows (1995). 32 Billows (1995) 200.

Women in War

539

been “unaffected”33 though none of the alternatives (divorce, polygamy, concubinage) he mentions is likely to have been pursued on a large scale. Divorce would have been unlikely unless women had someone else to marry and would not have guaranteed the survival of their children to adulthood. There is no evidence that anyone other than Argead rulers practiced polygamy until the era of the Successors, when Alexander’s generals (not the general population) began to imitate practices formerly royal (e.g., eponymous city-founding), including polygamy. In any event, polygamy is expensive and so, if to a lesser degree, is concubinage.34 Moreover, Alexander wanted to keep his troops happy and none of Billows proposed solutions would have done that or solved the problem of the survival of the children of the departed troops. Alexander did, at times, try to improve the situation of widows and orphans and the parents of those who died on campaign, but remuneration can only periodically have turned up.35 The immense wealth Alexander came to control because of conquest of the Persian Empire seems largely not to have reached Macedonia (other than funding for Antipater’s military needs) until shortly after the death of Alexander.36 Troubles after Alexander’s departure generated more pressure on the civilian population. Antipater—who supposedly retained roughly half the army—had to deal with military threats, like the revolt led by the Spartan king Agis III, 33 Billows (1995) 185 n. 3. 34 One thinks of the story in Xenophon (Xen. Mem. 2.7.2) about the friend of Socrates who was trying to maintain an upper-class household of fourteen mostly female kin (as well as unfree people) during a period of hardship and Socrates’ advice to have them produce textiles for sale. 35 Arrian (Anab. 1.16.5) refers to remittance of taxation for the survivors of those who died at Granicus; Plutarch (Alex. 71.5) has Alexander promise at Opis that military orphans would get their father’s pay. Justin (Epit. 12.4.9) talks about the orphans of his men getting their father’s pay, but he refers to those born in Asia, the Epigonoi. See also Meeus, Brice, and King in this volume. 36 Adams (1996) assumes that wealth from Alexander’s campaign began to impact Macedonia during Alexander’s reign, whereas it is more likely to have had an impact after his death. The Macedonian type tombs Adams mentions (1996, 34), for instance, were probably constructed much closer to the end of the century. Billows (1995, 212–15) also assumes the arrival of considerable wealth during Alexander’s reign but most of that would, as he notes, have been used to pay the home Macedonian army and Antipater’s extensive military operations. Diodorus (18.12. 2) says, when the Lamian war was beginning, that Antipater was short of citizen soldiers because of the numbers sent to Asia and refers to a fleet Alexander sent out (apparently at the very end of his reign) of 110 triremes carrying a great sum of money. As Billows notes (1995) 215, the funds that ultimately reached Macedonia caused inflation.

540

Carney

and these campaigns naturally cost more men their lives. In addition, famine (probably the result of climate and political upset) persisted for much of the 320s.37 Olympias and Cleopatra received grain, probably both for Macedonia and for Epirus, in this period (SEG IX 2). A speech in the narrative of Curtius’ account of Alexander’s campaign (7.1.37–40) asserts that Olympias was hiding (ca. 331) young men of military age from an officer sent by Alexander to bring back reinforcements, even those Olympias was protecting. The decade of the 320s was an increasingly unstable political period as Alexander’s dealings with Antipater worsened as the decade proceeded and the Macedonians saw no king between 334 and the appearance of Alexander IV and Philip III Arrhidaeus in 319. Macedonia had never been a particularly stable place but there had always been Argeads, often seemingly too many, and now there were none. The women and children of Macedonia, the majority dependent on small scale farming, would have had no regular income and no men to help them and their children survive. Many women and children may have died but it is even more likely than in the reign of Philip that war captives were employed during Alexander’s reign to assist in farming in Macedonia. Arrian (Anab. 1.16.6) mentions that Greek mercenaries who fought on the Persian side at Granicus were sent to Macedonia in fetters to labor.38 Even if enslaved people helped to make up the slack in terms of agricultural manpower, this must have been a difficult time for the female population. A few women went east with the campaign. Some women went, either initially or later, as servants and/or as sex workers, enslaved for that purpose. Plutarch tells the story (Mor. 339e–f; Alex. 48.3–5) of Antigone from either Pydna or Pella (Plut. Alex. 48.4; Mor. 339e), a nice-looking woman who was taken captive by the Persians while at or on her way to Samothrace. She was then captured a second time, at Damascus, by the Macedonians; Philotas took sexual possession of her and boasted to her about his father’s superiority to Philip and his own to Alexander. Antigone told her friends and Craterus, 37 See recent discussion in Antela-Bernárdez (2020). Charalampidis (2021) speaks of continuous drought/harvest difficulties throughout the decade. Whether one sees inflation as problem related to factors other than or in addition to grain depends on whether one sees the impact of Persian wealth moving west during Alexander’s reign or primarily after. Milns (1999) sees Alexander’s campaigns as causing inflation because of disruption of various kinds. He too believes most of the wealth did not arrive until the end of Alexander’s reign. 38 Bosworth (1980, 126–27) notes the tradition that Alexander freed the Thebans but kept the Athenians and Thessalians in custody (Plut. Mor. 181B) and Alexander refused to let them go, despite Athenian requests, until 331 (Arr. Anab. 1.29.5; 3.6.2).

Women in War

541

having come to know of these stories, had her relate them to Alexander (Plutarch recounts, with admiration, that Alexander did not touch her sexually) and she continued to spy on Philotas for Alexander.39 To be clear, she cannot be termed Philotas’ mistress; she was his slave. Plutarch says that after Darius’ defeat in Cilicia and after the wealth of Damascus was seized, she was one of the many somata (literally bodies, but it is a term often applied to the enslaved) taken captive (Plut. Alex. 48.3). We hear of hetairai, like the famous Athenian Thaïs who participated in the burning of Persepolis, who either accompanied or joined the expedition. Thaïs had several children by Ptolemy and later married him. Royal courtesans did sometimes become wives.40 Other women of Athenian origin—for instance two women Harpalus paid extraordinary attention to—seem to have benefitted by their experience, though it is hard to tell whether they were enslaved or free, or initially enslaved and later freed. Courtesans like these women were celebrities and rode the line between wives and mistresses.41 We know that some members of the Macedonian elite arranged new marriages for themselves before they left for the Asian campaign (e.g., Curt. 6.9.18, 7.1.7; Just. Epit. 12.14.1), as likely did men of all classes, but elite women may have gone out to Asia after the departure of the expedition. Phila, the eldest of Antipater’s daughters was already married to Balacrus in 334, but she went out to Cilicia where he had become satrap ca. 330.42 One wonders if she was the only one; perhaps other satraps (who were in relatively fixed positions) summoned their wives, thus enabling the possibility of more legitimate children. Of course, after Alexander’s death, a number went east.43 Naturally the women most directly affected by Alexander’s Asian campaign were the women in the path of his march. The great majority of these women,

39 In both passages Plutarch refers to her as a gynaion. Heckel (2006, 32) thinks that this terminology “implies she was of low birth.” 40 Ogden (1999, 231–37) discusses their ambiguous status. On Thaïs, see Ogden (1999) 68–73, 231–33, 240–43, 265–66. 41 Harpalus, according to Theopompus (ap. Ath. 13.595a–c) says that he set up two monuments for the slave hetaira Pythionce, and a shrine to her as Aphrodite Pythionice and, after her death, treated Glycera, another hetaira, like a royal woman (ap. Ath. 13.595d–596b). Ogden (1999, 233) points out that almost all the famous courtesans, when their origins are known, come from the Greek peninsula and many from Attica. 42 IG xi.2 161b, line 85; xi.2 287b, line 57. 43 Alexander’s sister Cleopatra, his half-sister Cynnane and her daughter Adea Eurydice, another daughter of Antipater, Nicaea, Atalante sister of Perdiccas, and Phila (for a second time) went out to marry in this period: see Carney (2000) 123–28; 129–31; Heckel (2006) 175; 60; 207–208.

542

Carney

if taken captive, were enslaved,44 many sold to slave merchants,45 but some forced to march along with the army.46 Of course, many were not only raped but killed and others died of starvation and hardship, their means of support having been eliminated by military action. Even if not enslaved, many became refugees. It is difficult to grasp the scale of hardship civilian populations experienced in this period, though how brutal Macedonian treatment of conquered populations was varied dramatically. For instance, much as Alexander had punished the Thebans for their defiance in refusing to surrender, when he finally took Tyre after a long effort, he enslaved all the women and children and crucified all the men of military age.47 In Sogdiana and Bactria, where he met considerable resistance, in many places he killed all the men and enslaved women and children and then forcibly settled men there (Arr. Anab. 4.2.4). In India, he attacked civilians, including refugees, and killed and enslaved those who resisted.48 Forces supporting the Persians also destroyed and enslaved, as did groups simply taking advantage of general disruption.49 Class and circumstance affected what happened to women who encountered Macedonian forces. Two members (Ada and her Persian nephew-in-law) of the Hecatomnid dynasty of Caria were in the midst of a dispute when Alexander reached Caria. The Hecatomnids practiced brother-sister marriage and Ada had initially ruled conjointly wither her brother/husband Idrius. After Idrius’ death, she ruled alone, as had her sister Artemisia after the death of her brother/husband Mausolus, but their younger brother Pixodarus drove Ada out of power (Arr. Anab. 1.23.7; Diod. Sic. 16.74.2). By the time of Alexander’s arrival, 44 Holt (2016) 47 finds twenty-three examples of enslavement by Alexander’s forces versus the six found by Pritchett GSW (who did not use Arrian as a source). Moreover, we cannot be sure that any ancient author always mentions such instances when they happen because the practice was so normative. 45 As Hunt (2021, 284) notes, since soldiers could not guard many captives, they were typically sold; slave traders followed armies. 46 See, for instance, Arr. Anab. 6.6.5; Curt. 4.11.10–12 and Antela-Bernardez (2015) 288. Arrian (Anab. 3.10.4) suggests the presence of prisoners endangers the army. 47 See Diod. Sic. 17.46.3–4; Curt. 4.4.17; Arr. Anab. 2.24.5 with varying numbers. See Holt (1996) 57 on variations. At Gaza (Arr. Anab. 2.27.7) where the population also resisted, all the men were killed, and women and children sold into slavery. 48 Bosworth (1996) 133–65, (2000) 23–49 described this savage campaign and compared his actions to those of the Cortes; he is more convincing on the terribleness of the campaign than on the reasons for that terror; see also Holt (2016) 63–65, with references. Holt sees his actions in India in terms of looting and enslaving as comparable to his initial actions in the Balkans. 49 Holt (2016) 53–56.

Women in War

543

Pixodarus had died, and the Persian husband of Pixodarus’ daughter Ada II was running Caria and the elder Ada was ensconced in Alinda (Strabo 14.2.17). Ada met Alexander, seeking to have him reinstate her a ruler if she aided in his conquest. This was accomplished and Ada adopted Alexander as her heir (Diod. Sic. 17.24.2–3; Arr. Anab. 1.23.8). She and Alexander had certainly worked out a mutually beneficial arrangement.50 After the battle of Issus in 333, Alexander’s troops captured the baggage camps (near the battle and at Damascus; Arr. Anab. 2.22.8–9) of Darius’ army; the baggage included women who were robbed of jewels and raped (Arr. Anab. 7.35. 4–7; Curt. 3.11.20–23; Diod. Sic. 21.36.4). Among the many elite Persian women captured were, most notably, the mother, wife, and daughters of Darius and Barsine, daughter of Artabazus and widow of at least one of the Greek mercenary generals who led some of Darius’ forces with considerable effect. The predictable script (Homer, as well as actual practice) would have been for the women to be raped and perhaps killed. Possession of the women of your enemy was not just a symbol of victory; it was victory.51 Rape and death were certainly what the women of Darius’ family feared and what happened to many of the women around them. Alexander, however, chose to make Darius’ female kin symbols rather than rape victims: he left them alone and safeguarded them from the male gaze and had the daughters receive some sort of Greek education (Plut. Alex. 21.1–3; Diod. Sic. 17.36.4). According to our sources, he and Darius’ mother got on very well together.52 When Darius’ wife died, Alexander arranged a suspiciously elaborate funeral for her (Curt. 4.10.31–34). Though she was reputedly the most beautiful woman in Asia, he supposedly did not touch her (Plut. Alex. 21.3).53 Darius tried to arrange a division of territory between himself and Alexander, using marriage to one of his daughters as confirmation, but Alexander rejected his offer.54 He did, ultimately, marry one of Darius’ daughters (as well as Parysatis, the daughter of one of Darius’ predecessors), but not until the mass weddings of many of his 50 Ruzicka (1992) 123–26, 139–47,153–55; Carney (2005) 68–70. See also Sears (2014), who argues that Ada’s philhellenism served as a symbol of Alexander’s philhellenism. 51 Carney (1996) 563–64. Nappi (2015). Hector imagines defeat as Andromache being led away, the prize of some Greek (Il. 5. 450–65). Chaniotis (2005, 103) points out how possession of prisoner women symbolized victory in the famous procession of Ptolemy II (Ath. 5.201a) and that the freeing of cities was also represented by women. 52 See Heckel (2006) 251 and Brosius (1996) 21–22 on the reasons for his treatment of her. 53 Two different sources (Plut. Alex. 30.1; Just. Epit. 11.12.6) say that she died in childbirth, and all imply that the death happened about two years after her capture. See further Carney (2000) 94–96. 54 See Heckel (2006) 256–57.

544

Carney

most important officers with other elite Persian women at Susa in 324 (Diod. Sic. 17.107.6; Just. Epit. 12.10.9; Plut. Alex. 70.3, Mor. 338d; Arr. Anab. 7.4.4).55 The Persian royal women (and to lesser degree other members of the Persian elite) became symbols of Alexander’s propaganda line; since he considered himself legitimate ruler of the Persian Empire by right of conquest, he would treat the Achaemenid women in line with his assertion of legitimacy. He made his not raping them a propaganda theme.56 There were, however, two exceptions that we know about to Alexander’s theme of marrying the women of the Persian royal family and elite to the Macedonian royal family and Macedonian elite. The first woman Alexander married was not Persian but Bactrian, Roxane, daughter of Oxyartes.57 Oxyartes was part of the resistance of the elite of Bactria-Sogdiana to Alexander’s conquest, resistance that caused Alexander considerable difficulty. Alexander’s marriage to Roxane constitutes part of the compromise that brought her father onto the Macedonian’s side; Alexander gave him the satrapy of Parapamisadae in 325. Accounts make Roxane beautiful and the marriage a love match (Just. Epit. 11.10.5; Arr. Anab. 4.19.5; Curt. 8.4.24–26; Plut. Alex. 47.4) but clearly it was part of his attempt to end opposition to him in the region and she came into his hands as a prisoner (Plut. Alex. 47.5). She accompanied Alexander to India and probably lost a child there in 326. His marriage to the daughter of Darius obviously meant loss of status for her, but she was pregnant when Alexander died and delivered a son, Alexander IV, within a month or two of her husband’s death (Curt. 10.6.9; Just. Epit. 13.2.5); she may also have caused the death of Stateira (Plut. Alex. 77.4). After Alexander’s death, she and her son accompanied the ever-changing regents; Antipater brought her and her son to the Greek peninsula in 319 and she and Alexander IV were captured at Pydna when Olympias surrendered to Cassander. Cassander imprisoned mother and son and ultimately had them secretly murdered (Diod. Sic. 19.52.1–5; Just. Epit. 15.2.5; Paus. 9.7.2). Roxane played a less symbolic role than the daughter of Darius (exactly the reason why Alexander married her before Stateira), but he must, by the time of this marriage, have been more interested in producing an heir than he had previously appeared to be; no other reason explains why he had her accompany him to India. 55

Significantly, for instance, her sister married Alexander’s closest associate, Hephaestion (Arr. Anab. 7.4.5; Diod Sic. 17.107.6). 56 See Carney (1996). See also Zaragozà (2014). Brosius (1996, 83–122) discusses the role of Achaemenid women at court. 57 On Roxane, see Müller (2012). Holt (2005, 86–91) provides an interesting portrait of Roxane as a refugee, which she was.

Women in War

545

Despite Alexander’s protracted display of his moderation and legitimacy in terms of the women of Darius’ immediate family, he demonstrated no such moderation in terms of another important woman, Barsine.58 Barsine’s father Artabazus was himself the grandson of an Achaemenid king and an important satrap. Barsine’s mother was Greek, the sister of the two Rhodian mercenary generals Mentor and Memnon. During a period of rebellion, Artabazus and Memnon spent some years at the court of Philip II (Diod. Sic. 16.52.3–4; Curt. 5.9.1, 6.5.2). Alexander must have known both. Barsine married first her uncle Mentor and, after his death, her younger uncle Memnon (Plut. Alex. 21.4). By the time of Barsine’s capture she was the mother of several children, some of whom accompanied her, and was again a widow. Alexander, whether on the advice of Parmenion (Plut. Alex. 21.4–5) or not, began a sexual relationship with her that apparently endured until 327 or 326 when she bore Alexander a son, Heracles (Diod. Sic. 20.20.1). Though she was not at court at the time of Alexander’s death, she apparently retained considerable influence since Nearchus had married one of her daughters and tried to get Barsine’s son recognized as heir (Arr. Anab. 7.4.6; Curt. 10.6.10–12). Artabazus was an important man; he and his sons stayed loyal to Darius until his death and then, rather than support the man who assassinated him, they went over to Alexander who made Artabazus a satrap again. On the one hand, Alexander chose to rape Barsine, but on the other hand he was somewhat conciliatory to her father and family. The name he gave his son by Barsine is suggestive of the fact that she and he were important, though not as important as they would have been had he married Barsine. Why he did not one can only speculate. He had her play the Homeric role of captive and sexual subject of a conqueror, perhaps in part so that Alexander could demonstrate that he could do that as well as something more innovative. She was, after all, the widow of the general who had offered him the most opposition. He may also have intended her treatment as an incentive for her family to switch allegiance; if so, it was an ineffective incentive. Granted that Alexander’s father and probably his grandfather had been polygamous and so, in the end, was he, his decision not to marry Barsine is puzzling, but suggests that he understood her, in the end, as a prize of war. The ordinary soldiers of Alexander’s army also took women, had sex with them, and impregnated them. Justin (Epit. 12.4.2–11) describes these relationships as Alexander’s way to keep his troops from being homesick and a means to create new soldiers. Over time, these connections generated entire new families. In the Gedrosian desert, when a sudden cloud burst turned a dry 58 Carney (2000) 101–105, 149–50; see Muller (2021) 81–96.

546

Carney

riverbed into a torrent, many of the women and children following the army were killed (Arr. Anab. 6.25.5). Later, when Alexander arranged marriages of his important officers to elite Persian women, he also legitimized the unions of his soldiers with Asian women (Plut. Alex. 70.2; Arr. Anab. 7.4.8). Earlier, he had arranged the training of the Epigonoi (sons of these relationships) as replacements for his veterans (Diod. Sic. 17.110.3) and Alexander ordered the children of Macedonians by Asian women to be left behind when their fathers departed so that there would not be conflict the new families and the ones left behind (Arr. Anab. 7.11.2).59 Philip II’s and Alexander’s remarkable and seemingly endless military successes and our ancient sources’ fascination with those successes (and with the glamor of combat and military victory) have obscured the ugly truths and terrible costs, short- and long-term, of any conquest, even for the victors and their families. Simply considering what happened to women during these campaigns forces us to address the painful and complicated consequences of the victories of father and son. Discussions of various aspects of the role of women in more recent military actions enable us to notice what our ancient sources either ignore or downplay and to begin to recognize how narrow our previous analysis has been. Modern military technology makes possible more widespread destruction of people and property from a distance, often with less immediate harm to those originating the destruction, but the result for non-combatants in a city or town taken by enemies differs little from the experiences of ancient peoples, except that these events may be whatever transport on which they had depended (whether horses or donkeys who have died or cars that have run out of gas), vulnerable to starvation, disease, and violence, hemmed in or assaulted by enemy forces. People on the “home front,” in ancient and modern times, were safer than those civilian populations more directly involved in warfare, but they were still subject to social, economic, and political uncertainty and stress generated by a prolonged period of war, especially of war waged at a distance. Works Cited Adams, W. L. (1996) “In the Wake of Alexander the Great: The Impact of Conquest on the Aegean World.” AncW 27: 29–37. Adams, W. L. and Borza, E. N. (eds) (1992) Philip II, Alexander the Great and the Macedonian Heritage. Lanham, MD. 59

See also Asirvatham and Brice in this volume.

Women in War

547

Antela-Bernardez, B. (2015) “La Campãna de Alejandro: Esclavismo y dependencia en el espacio de Conquista,” in Beltrán et al. (2015) 281–96. Antela-Bernárdez, B. (2020) “The Hungry Years. Athenian Grain and the impact of Alexander’s conquest over Greece,” in Antela-Bernárdez and Mendoza (2020) 99–112. Antela-Bernárdez, B. and Mendoza, M. (eds) (2020) The Impact of Alexander’s Conquest, Alcalá de Henares. Antela-Bernάrdez, B. and Vidal, J. (eds) (2014) Central Asia in Antiquity: Interdisciplinary Approaches. Oxford. Antikas, T. and Wynn-Atikas, L. K. (2015) “New Finds from the Cremains in Tomb II at Aegae Point to Philip II and a Scythian Princess.” International Journal of Osteo­archaeology 26.4: 682–92. Archibald, Z. H. (2013) Ancient Economies of the Northern Aegean, Fifth to First Centuries BC. Oxford. Bartsiokas, A., Arsuaga, J. L., and Brandmeir, N. (2023) “The Identification of the Royal Tombs in the Great Tumulus at Vergina, Macedonia, Greece: A Comprehensive Review.” Journal of Archaeological Science Reports 52: 104279. DOI: 10.1016/j.jasrep. 2023.104279. Beltrán, A., Sastre, I., and Valdés, M. (eds) (2015) Los espacios de la esclavitud y la dependencia desde la antigüedad. Besançon. Bertholet, F., Bielman Sánchez, A., and Frei-Stolba, R. (eds) (2008) Egypte—Grèce—Rome : les différents visages des femmes antiques : travaux et colloques du séminaire d’épigraphie grecque et latine de l’IASA 2002–2006. Bern. Bielman, A. (1994) Retour à la liberté: Libération et sauvetage des prisonniers en Grèce ancienne. Athens. Billows, R. (1995) Kings and Colonists: Aspects of Macedonian Imperialism. Leiden. Borza, E. N. (1990) In the Shadow of Olympus: The Emergence of Macedon. Princeton. Borza, E. N. (1992) “The Natural Resources of Early Macedonia,” in Adams and Borza (1992) 1–20. Bosworth, A. B. (1980) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander. Vol. 1. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1986) “Alexander the Great and the Decline of Macedon.” JHS 106: 1–12. Bosworth, A. B. (1996) Alexander and the East: The Tragedy of Triumph. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (2000) “A Tale of Two Empires: Hernán Cortés and Alexander the Great,” in Bosworth and Baynham (2000) 23–49. Bosworth, A. B. (2002) The Legacy of Alexander: Politics, Warfare, and Propaganda under the Successors. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. and E. J. Baynham (eds) (2000) Alexander the Great in Fact and Fiction. Oxford.

548

Carney

Brosius, M. (1996) Women in Ancient Persia (559–331 BC). Oxford. Budin, S. (ed) (2016) Women in Antiquity: Real Women across the Ancient World. New York. Carney, E. D. (1996) “Alexander and the Persian Women.” AJPh 117: 563–83. Carney, E. D. (2000) Women and Monarchy in Macedonia. Norman, OK. Carney, E. D. (2005) “Women and Dunasteia in Caria.” AJPh 126: 65–91. Carney, E. D. (2016) “Commemoration of a Royal Woman as a Warrior: The Burial in the Antechamber of Tomb II at Vergina.” SyllClass 27: 109–49. Carney, E. D. (2019) “Women and Masculinity in Plutarch’s Alexander.” ICS 44.1: 141–55. Carney, E. D. (2021) “Women and War in the Greek World,” in Heckel et al. (2021) 329–38. Cecchet, L., Degelmann, C., and Patzelt, M. (eds) (2019) The Ancient War’s Impact on the Home Front. Newcastle upon Tyne. Chaniotis, A. (2005) War in the Hellenistic World. Oxford. Charalampidis, G. (2021) “Economy of Macedonia During the Hellenistic Period; A Synopsis.” Academia Letters. DOI: 10.20935/AL3453 Corvisier, J.-N. (2002a) “Philippe II, La Guerre et la Démographie.” in Corvisier (2002b) 61–71. Corvisier, J.-N. (ed) (2002b) Guerre et démographie dans le monde antique: colloque international d’Arras, 14 et 15 décembre 2001. Boulogne. Ducrey, P. (1999) Le traitement des prisonniers de guerre dans la Grèce antique, 2nd edn. Paris. Ellis, J. R. (1969) “Population Transplants by Philip II.” Makedonika 9: 9–17. Ellis, J. R. (1976) Philip II and Macedonian Imperialism. London. Fabre-Serris, J. and Keith, A. (eds) (2015) Women and War in Antiquity. Baltimore, MD. Gaca, K. L. (2015) “Ancient Warfare and the Ravaging Martial Rape of Girls and Women: Evidence from Homeric Epic and Greek Drama,” in Masterson et al. (2015) 278–97. Gaca, K. L. (2016) “Continuities in Rape and Tyranny in Martial Societies from Antiquity Onward,” in Budin (2016) 1041–56. Glazebrook, A. (2021) “Sexuality and Female Agency in Demosthenes 19.196–8,” in Kamen and Marshall (2021) 139–56. Guimier-Sorbets, A.-M., Hatzopoulos, M. I., and Morizot, Y. (eds) (2006) Rois, Cites, Necropoles, Institutions, Ries Et Monuments En Macedoine. Athens. Hacker, B. and Vining, M. (eds) (2012) A Companion to Women’s Military History. Leiden. Hammond, N. G. L. (1984) “Alexander’s Veterans after his Death.” GRBS 25: 51–61. Hammond, N. G. L. (1988) “The King and the Land in the Macedonian Kingdom.” CQ 38.2: 382–91. Hammond, N. G. L. (1989) “Casualties and Reinforcements of Citizen Soldiers in Greece and Macedonia.” JHS 109: 56–68. Harrington, K. B. (2022) “Rosie the Riveter (of Olynthus): Women’s Labor and Warfare in a Classical Greek City.” Oral paper delivered at the annual meeting of the Archaeological Institute of America January 6, 2022.

Women in War

549

Heckel, W. (2006) Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander the Great. Malden, MA. Heckel, W., Naiden, F. S., Vanderspoel, J., and Garvin, E. E. (eds) (2021) Wiley Companion to Greek Warfare. London. Holt, F. L. (2005) Into the Land of Bones: Alexander the Great in Afghanistan. Berkeley. Holt, F. L. (2016) The Treasures of Alexander the Great. Oxford. Howe, T. (2008) Pastoral Politics: Animals, Agriculture and Society in Ancient Greece. Publications of the Association of Ancient Historians 9. Claremont, CA. Howe, T., Müller, S., and Stoneman, S. (eds) (2017) Ancient Historiography on War and Empire. Oxford. Hunt, P. (2021) “War and Slavery in the Greek World,” in Heckel et al. (2021) 271–85. Kamen, D. and Marshall, C. W. (eds) (2021) Slavery and Sexuality in Classical Antiquity. Madison, WI. Kleu, M. (2019) “The Demographic Impact of War on the Home Front During the Reign of Philip V of Macedon,” in Cecchet et al. (2019) 217–36. Leatherman, J. (2007) “Sexual Violence and Armed Conflict: Complex Dynamics of Re-Victimization” International Journal of Peace Studies 12.1: 53–71. Le Bohec-Bouhet, S. (2006) “Réflexions sur la place de la femme dans la Macédoine antique.” in Guimier-Sorbets et al. (2006) 187–97. Masterson, M., Rabinowitz, N. S., and Robson, J. (eds) (2015) Sex in Antiquity: Exploring Gender and Sexuality in the Ancient World. New York. Millett, P. (2010) “The Political Economy of Macedonia,” in Worthington and Roisman (2010) 472–504. Milns, R. D. (1999) “The Effects of Alexander’s Campaigns on Food Prices,” Ancient Macedonia VI 763–69. Mortensen, C. (1997) “Olympias: Royal Wife and Mother at the Macedonian Court.” PhD dissertation, University of Queensland. Müller, S. (2012) “Stories of the Persian Bride: Alexander and Roxane,” in Stoneman et al. (2012) 295–310. Nappi, M. (2015) “Women and War in the Iliad: Rhetorical and Ethical Implications,” in Fabre-Serris and Keith (2015) 34–51. Nevett, L. C. (ed) (2017) Theoretical Approaches to the Archaeology of Ancient Greece: Manipulating Material Culture. Ann Arbor, MI. Ogden, D. (1999) Polygamy, Prostitutes and Death: The Hellenistic Dynasties. London. Ruzicka, S. (1992) Politics of a Persian Dynasty: The Hecatomnids in the Fourth Century B.C. Norman, OK. Rzepka, J. (2017) “The Casualty Figures of Alexander’s Army,” in Howe, Müller, and Stoneman (2017) 169–76. Salminem, E. (2017) “The Tomb Doth Protest Too Much? Constructed Identity in Tomb II at Vergina,” in Nevett (2017) 273–93. Schaps, D. (1982) “The Women of Greece in Wartime.” CP 77: 193–213. Scholl, R. T. (1987) “Alexander der Grosse und die Sklaverei am Hofe.” Klio, 69: 108–21.

550

Carney

Sears, M. (2014) “Alexander and Ada Reconsidered.” CP 109: 111–21. Stoneman, R., Erickson, K., and Netton, I. (eds) (2012) The Alexander Romance in Persia and the East. Groningen. Wintjes, J. (2012) “Keep the Women out of the Camp—Women and Military Institutions in the Classical World,” in Hacker and Vining (2012) 17–59. Wintjes, J. (2019) “You Can Tell a Woman a Long Way off by the Way She Throws,” in Cecchet, Degelmann and Patzelt (2019) 173–92. Worthington, I. and Roisman, J. (eds) (2010) A Companion to Ancient Macedonia. Malden, MA. Zaragozá, C. (2014) “Achaemenid Women and Alexander,” in Antela-Bernάrdez and Vidal (2014) 43–52. Zaidman, L. B. (2015) “Women and War: From the Theban Cycle to Greek Tragedy,” in Fabre-Serris and Keith (2015) 82–99.

Chapter 21

War Crimes? Sabine Müller 1

How to Approach Violations in Macedonian Warfare?

According to the definition of the United Nations Office on Genocide Prevention and the Responsibility to Project, based on Hague Law and Geneva Law, war crimes take place in an armed conflict and are intentional “violations of international humanitarian law (treaty or customary law).” These violations can be directed against persons (combatants and non-combatants), property, or rights, and also include prohibited methods and means of warfare. To list some examples: willful killing, executions without previous judgement, torture and other body-humiliating treatment, rape and sexual slavery, extensive destruction and appropriation of property not justified by military necessity, transfer of the occupants’ population into the occupied territory, taking of hostages, deportation, intentional attacks against the civilian population and un-military objects (such as historic monuments or buildings dedicated to religion), killing of defenseless combatants who have surrendered, pillaging a town (even when taken by assault), destroying or seizing the enemy’s property without being demanded by the necessities of war. According to the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, the court shall have jurisdiction in respect of war crimes when committed as part of a plan or policy or as part of a large-scale commission of such crimes.1 Comparing the list of the United Nations Office with the evidence of the campaigns of Philip II and Alexander III’s, from a modern point of view, the Macedonian rulers would have been notorious offenders. In the context of their wars, as part of their policy, civilian populations were harmed, there was mass rape, mass killing, and mass enslavement, hostages were taken or deported, surrendering combatants were killed, cities plundered and razed, corpses mutilated, conquered territory was settled by the Macedonians, cultural property was destroyed and looted, un-military objects (such as treasure houses) attacked. To Philip, Alexander, and their generals, violence was a political means to gain, demonstrate and preserve political control; violence served 1 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (1998) Article 8.

© Sabine Müller, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_023

552

Müller

as a threat, punishment, and deterrent, and as a means to acquire resources to carry on the war and reward the soldiers.2 However, since the codification of the law of armed conflict was a development of modern times,3 it would be anachronistic and inappropriate to apply our contemporary perspective and expectations to the ancient structures of warfare. Philip, Alexander, and their soldiers were not bound by any codified international humanitarian law and ran no risk of being put on trial by an International Criminal Court. Thus, a comparative approach in the sense of applying the modern criteria of defining war crimes to Philip’s and Alexander’s warfare would be misleading. The difference between the ancient and modern perspective may be illustrated by the lack of condemnation regarding Philip’s and Alexander’s warfare demonstrated by Polyaenus in his Strategemata.4 For example, during his war against the Illyrians, Philip tricked the Sarnusians by using their permission to speak in their assembly to catch them off-guard, bound them with secretly smuggled cords, and deported them to Macedonia (4.4.12). Philip also exploited a truce with the Illyrians he had concluded to recover the dead Macedonians, to launch a sudden attack while the last corpses were still being recovered (4.4.5). Without any empathy, Polyaenus reports that Alexander tried to improve his bad reputation as waging war “in a murderous and barbarian way (phonikōs kai barbarikōs)” among the Indian Cathaeans that he had earned by razing their capital and killing all men of military age. After the seizure of their next town, he took old people, children, and women hostage and forced them to parade in front of his phalanx while approaching the third town. The inhabitants interpreted the fact that these hostages were still alive as a sign of Alexander’s humanity (philanthropia) and surrendered (4.5.30).5 For the proud Macedonian Polyaenus, these were clever and successful stratagems. A modern reader may have doubts about Philip’s way of side-stepping a truce, let alone about the deportation, and about identifying Alexander’s use of the hostages as a sign of philanthropy—even more so as Polyaenus makes clear that it was a ruse to achieve a quick surrender and that Alexander only objected to his bad reputation because it fueled the resistance, not because of any moral reasons.

2 Champion and O’Sullivan (2017a, 1–20) ascribe a “Janus-like” character to violence that may bring both chaos and order: violence shapes societies. 3 Bryant (2015) 1–5. 4 On Polyaenus, see Beek (2021). 5 On the Cathaeans, see Heckel (2020) 245–46. See also Diod. Sic. 17.91.4.

War Crimes?

553

However, this ancient lack of condemnation of what a modern beholder would characterize as war atrocities or war crimes is no exception to the rule: “only very few texts display any sensibility towards suffering caused by violence.”6 In addition, the social status and ethnicity of victims mark a difference: high-ranking and Greek victims tend to receive more attention and pity than non-elite and non-Greek victims.7 Exceptions are mostly motivated by the author’s aim to blacken the portrait of the respective wrongdoer, not by any genuine pity for the victims.8 Notably, while there existed a debate about the dimension of violent detail in ancient historiography, it was about literary matters: veracity versus artifice. Some ancient writers hesitated to describe war atrocities in detail while others were accused of dramatizing, exaggerating, and reinventing scenes of violence out of mere sensationalism to attract the audience.9 Given the incompatibility of modern and ancient views on violence in warfare, another theoretical approach is needed. Edward Anson has proved that the employment of the strategy of “shock and awe” formed part of the various methods of Alexander to intimidate the opponents, force them to surrender, and stop resistance.10 Waldemar Heckel has categorized “war atrocities” of Alexander (together with J. L. McLeod) and explored Alexander’s strategies to counter resistance.11 Based on sociological theories on the importance of violence to the formation and preservation of rule,12 Matthias Haake has explored the social logic of Alexander’s employment of violence and argued that it formed part of his attempts to legitimize his rule.13 One may ask the other way round: how were the acts of massive violence legitimized by Philip and Alexander?

6 7 8 9

D’Huys (1987) 249. Cf. Chaniotis (2005) 113; Heckel and McLeod (2015) 256, n. 56. E.g., Curt. 7.5.28–35. Cf. D’Huys (1987) 216, 224–31. Polybius sneers at attempts “to evoke compassion at all costs” (2.56.7) and criticizes the lack of historical truth (2.56.13). Lucian (Hist Conscr. 20, 25, 27) ridicules such pathetic scenes in historical narratives. However, simultaneously, he also makes fun of writers who claim that they would do it better. 10 Anson (2015). See also Anson (chap. 3) in this volume. 11 Heckel and McLeod (2015). The categories include enemies killed in pitched battle; victims of the (alleged) panhellenic vengeance; victims of systematic terror; victims of “personal” terror; women. On Alexander’s methods employed against resistance: Heckel (2020). 12 von Trotha (1997). 13 Haake (2020) 95. He reasonably rejects any psychological explanation such as revenge for wounds or individual character traits of Alexander.

554

Müller

Taking into account the aforementioned scholarly approaches, this paper will add the theoretical premise developed by Michael Bryant’s allusive approach to “war crimes” before the development of the legal concept. According to him, already in pre-modern times, there were limitations on war, particularly religious and ritualistic. Violations of such customs of war “outrage common justice or involve moral turpitude” and were perceived as appalling and shocking.14 Hence, the following analysis is based on the premise that there existed an awareness of what was regarded as customary and uncustomary, appropriate and inappropriate in ancient warfare regarding the treatment of enemies, civilian populations, civilian cultural property, territory, and cities.15 There were attempts to restrict violence in ancient warfare, although such limitations depended on the respective commander and were not signs of humanitarian considerations but motivated by either strategic, political, military, economic, or religious reasons (or a combination of them).16 This chapter treats violations of persons (military and civilian) and cultural property during the campaigns of Philip and Alexander that were perceived as atrocious, unjust, or appalling by ancient authors and/or accompanied by particular efforts by the Macedonian rulers to justify their actions.17 As for the theoretical approach to the violations of cultural property, I will employ Shahrokh Razmjou’s categorization of the various types of damages in wartime.18 Regarding the destruction of cities, the concept of urbicide—“the

14 Bryant (2015) 4. 15 For example, the right of ambassadors to safe conduct was (usually) regarded and violations against it were perceived as uncustomary, cf. Law (1919) 132. However, see Thuc. 2.67.3; cf. Hornblower (1991) 350. 16 Tabārā (2014). 17 On an early attempt to categorize war atrocities in Greek warfare as “frightful” to the Greeks, see Law (1919). On the depiction of massacres in image and literature, see Nauroy (2005). On trauma and suffering in ancient wars, see Schmitz (2009); Tritle (2000, 2013, 2015, 2020); Heckel and McLeod (2015) 261–64; Champion and O’Sullivan (2017a) 12–13. See also Scarry (1985). On demonstrative violence in ancient images and literature, see Tritle (1997); Hölscher (2003); Muth (2008); Zimmermann (2009); Rollinger and Jacobs (2010); Madreiter (2012) 85–92; Zimmermann (2013); Gaca (2011, 2014, 2015); Heckel and McLeod (2015); Anson (2015); Champion and O’Sullivan (2017a); Kapellos (2019); Müller (2020c). See also the general observations on the relations between culture and violence by Keppler (1997); Champion and O’Sullivan (2017a) 11. For a critical comment on the trend to “sanitize” war’s brutalities in historical studies on war, see Tritle (2015) 119. 18 Cf. Razmjou (2002) 90: (1) damage caused by non-military persons without any ideological motivation; (2) damage caused by invading armies; (3) damage ordered by an authority motivated by ideological reasons. On other recent studies on violations of the

War Crimes?

555

annihilation of city structures or cities themselves as the strategic object to violence”19—will be considered. 2

Considerations about the Campaigns of Philip II

The literary sources on Philip’s campaigns provide us with opposite views: Trogus-Justin (based on Theopompus’ extremely negative portrayal of Philip) and Demosthenes depict Philip as an out-and-out liar, scoundrel, and robber who betrayed all of his foes and allies alike.20 Diodorus’ statement that Philip accomplished all of his deeds not by the favor of tyche but because of his own arete (16.1.6) sets the tone for his account of Macedonia’s rise under Philip, based to a great extent on Ephorus’ favorable portrait of Philip. In addition, we must take the problem of untrustworthy numbers of dead soldiers into account, a general phenomenon in ancient historiography (Lucian, Hist. Conscr. 20): inflated numbers of dead on the side of the enemy and minimized numbers on the “own” side served to glorify a victory and the valor of the victorious army.21 Alternatively, from a hostile point of view, the number of victims of war atrocities could be grossly exaggerated to blacken the portrait of commander. Searching for demonstrative violence, it is no surprise that the authors primarily consider harm done to Greeks as problematic. For example, Diodorus glosses over the violence of Philip’s Illyrian war in 358 BCE when according to him, Philip fought “in a heroic way” and more than 7,000 Illyrians—the number is likely inflated—were slain in the battle and on the flight (16.4.5–7).22 For Philip and the Macedonians, this was an act of revenge for Perdiccas III and his about 4,000 soldiers who had died in action against Bardylis and his invading Illyrians in 360/59 (Diod. Sic. 16.2.4–5). It meant pay-back for the trauma, opponents’ cultural property in wartime, see Miles (2008, 2014); Müller (2016, 2020d); Heinrichs (2022). 19 Keogh (2020a) 8. 20 Cf. Just. Epit. 8.1.1–3; 8.3.1–3; Dem. Olynthiac 2.6; Philippic 1.2; Olynthiac 3.16; Philippic 2.35; Philippic 3.1; Philippic 4.2; Philippic 4.12; On Demosthenes, see Worthington (2012); Sanders (2016) 60–66; Goldman (2017); Harris (2018); Herrmann (2022). On Theopompus, see Shrimpton (1977); Shrimpton (1991); Pownall (2020f). 21 On this problem, see Heckel and McLeod (2015) 246. Lucian makes fun of this phenomenon by claiming that one of his colleagues writing on Lucius Verus’ Parthian War stated that at Dura Europus, the enemy lost 70,236 killed and the Romans lost just two and had nine wounded. Lucian comments that no reasonable person would accept this. 22 All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE unless otherwise indicated.

556

Müller

loss, suffering, and fears the Macedonian population had gone through after the Illyrian victory, when Bardylis occupied the cities of Upper Macedonia and threatened to invade Lower Macedonia. Therefore, Philip’s refusal to negotiate a peace with Bardylis (Diod. Sic. 16.4.4) and the bloody outcome of the battle against the Illyrians can be seen as a policy to re-establish Argead authority in Macedonia, avenge the dead warriors, secure the Northwestern frontier, and intimidate the Illyrians.23 While there was no love lost for dead Illyrians in the Greek and Roman sources, killing Greeks was another matter. However, Philip’s mass killing of the defeated Phocians under Onomarchus at the battle of the Crocus Field at the Thessalian coast in 352 was seen as a special case.24 Reportedly more than 6,000 Phocians and misthophoroi were killed, many of them slaughtered in their flight to the sea (where the Athenian ships came ashore),25 and about 3,000 taken captive. It is controversial whether some, many, or all of them, or just their bodies, were afterwards thrown into the sea.26 The Phocian commander Onomarchus was killed and his corpse either hanged or crucified (Diod. Sic. 16.35.5–6; 16.61.2). This demonstrative violence, however, was officially justified by the pose of religious dutifulness: campaigning in the service of the Delphic Amphictyony—and thus Apollo—Philip was on a religious mission against the “evil” Phocian temple robbers. They had refused to pay the Amphictyony a fine, plundered the Delphic treasures, hired misthophoroi and raised their arms (Diod. Sic. 16.23.3; 16.33.2; Just. Epit. 8.1.8–9). Therefore, Philip styled himself explicitly as Apollo’s avenger and defender (Diod. Sic. 16.35.6) and ordered his soldiers to wear laurel wreaths on their helmets (Just. Epit. 8.3.2). The particularly bloody victory likely also served to avenge the two defeats Onomarchus had inflicted on Philip the year before, his first major setback that caused a loss of discipline in his army (Diod. Sic. 16.35.1–2; Polyaenus, Strat. 2.38.2). Philip probably wanted to make clear that this would never happen again. In addition, his intervention provided Philip with “a legitimate entrance

23 On the achievements of Philip, see Wirth (1985); Anson (2008); Worthington (2008); Wirth (2020); Anson (2022) 17. On the kingship of Philip and Alexander, see Anson (2022). Cf. Roisman (2012). 24 Cf. Buckler (1989) 75–79; Londey (1994); Pownall (2020c, 2020d, 2020e). 25 Their commander Chares had come too late to secure the port of Pagasae (Diod. Sic. 16.35.5). 26 On the scholarly debate of the authenticity of the mass-drowning, see HM2, 275–77: only the corpses were thrown into the sea; it would be too difficult to drown 2,000 men; Buckler (1989) 77, n. 41: all captives were drowned.

War Crimes?

557

to the mainstream of Greek politics.”27 However, Diodorus’ merciless account reflects that the Phocians were seen as sacrilegious temple-robbers who were justly punished by Philip. The public display of Onomarchus’ corpse was perceived as retribution in the name of the offended Apollo, not as a violation of the customs of war in Greece.28 Justin-Trogus confirms that the Phocians themselves were conscious of their guilt and that Philip was applauded for having defended Apollo’s cause appropriately (8.3.4–6). Thus, Bryant’s observation that when the cause of war was styled as “just” and the enemy as the counter-image, nothing softened the brutality of warfare, can be applied to this example.29 “War is the most thoroughgoing or consciously prosecuted occasion of collective violence that destroys places.”30 As for urbicide, Philip’s destruction of Potidaea (Diod. Sic. 16.8.5–6) and Olynthus (Diod. Sic. 16.52.9–53.3; Polyb. 9.28.2–3), each accompanied by mass enslavement, confirms the theoretical premise of the concept of urbicide: it is about targeting sites of wealth and resources, political and ideological centers, strategically and economically important locations.31 By destroying Potidaea in 356, an Athenian stronghold in the Macedonian and Chalcidian coastal area, Philip eliminated an important center of Athenian influence and control over the coast. He bought the passive acceptance of his conquests by his other rivals in the North, the Chalcidian League, by giving Potidaea’s territory to them (Diod. Sic. 16.8.5–6). 27 Pownall (2020d) 498. 28 A similar view is provided by the alternative versions about Onomarchus’ death, stressing the effects of divine punishment: according to Paus. 10.2.5, he was killed by his own soldiers who blamed him for the defeat. According to Philon ap. Euseb. PE 8.14.33, he was taken into the sea by his own horse. Cf. Buckler (1989) 76. It may be a grim joke that according to Plutarch, Life of Sulla (12.4–5), when Sulla wants to take money from the treasures of Delphic Apollo, he sends Caphis, a Phocian official who is reluctant to touch Apollo’s property. Caphis even cries and tries to persuade Sulla to spare the sanctuary’s treasures—albeit in vain. 29 Bryant (2015) 68. 30 Hewitt (1983) 258. On city-destroying, see also O’Sullivan (2017). 31 Keogh (2020a) 1–2. He also destroyed Stagira (Plut. Alex. 7.3). In addition, Demosthenes ascribes to him the razing of Apollonia and the utter destruction of thirty-two Thracian cities (Philippic 3.26). Cf. Harris (1995) 165. Diodorus and Demosthenes mention that he also razed Methone (Diod. Sic. 16.30.6; 16.34.4–5; Dem. Philippic 3.26) while Just. Epit. 7.6.14–15 reports that the population received a mild treatment. However, a short comment by Polyaenus may indicate that after Potidaea, Philip was reputed to be a merciless destroyer of cities: Polyaenus states (Strat. 4.4.19) that it was surprising to contemporaries that during his Thessalian campaigns, Philip did not raze the defeated cities (Pharsalus and Pherai), tear down their walls, and take away their arms (but weakened them by fueling their inner conflicts).

558

Müller

The destruction of Olynthus in 348 sealed the Macedonian conquest of the Chalcidice and annihilated Macedonia’s last rival in the North, the Chalcidian League. Officially, Philip could justify the siege by pointing out that the Olynthians had harbored his rebellious, treacherous half-brothers and refused to surrender them (Just. Epit. 8.3.10–11). In fact, similarly to the enslavement of the inhabitants of Potidaea, the sale of the Olynthian captives into slavery (Dem. Philippic 3.26; Just. Epit. 8.3.11–12) provided Philip with money to carry on the war and reward his deserving soldiers. Diodorus (16.53.3) and Polybius (9.28.2–3) confirm, pragmatically unmoved, that the Olynthian mass enslavement filled his war chest and served to intimidate other Greek cities. This treatment of the defeated was no new phenomenon. Destroying a city, killing the adult males, and enslaving women and children, andrapodismos, characterized by Kathy Gaca as a type of “semi-lethal warfare” directed against most defenseless inhabitants,32 had been done before by Greeks to fellow Greeks.33 But in the case of Potidaea and Olynthus, it may have played a role that the Macedonians were outsiders, occasionally characterized as “barbarians” and perceived as inferior to the Greeks (Dem. Olynthiac 3.31).34 Demosthenes’ statement (Olynthiac 3.24) that the appropriate relationship between Greeks and (Macedonian) “barbarians” was that the Greeks ruled over them will have mirrored the thoughts of many of his contemporaries. Thus, in their eyes, Philip’s enslavement of Greeks violated the Greek customs of war. Potidaea’s conquest was in effect regarded as one of Philip’s unjust (adikos) actions against Athens (Dem. On the Crown 69). The fate of the Olynthians who had allied with Athens shortly before their ruin (Dem. Against Aristocrates 108–109, 150) was an even bigger shock and perceived as atrocious in Athens (Dem. On the False Embassy 305–306, 309; Aeschin. On the Embassy 156).35 While our main source, Demosthenes, provides us with a biased view of Philip and uses the fate of the Olynthians as a proof of the correctness of his political agenda, the authenticity of the common indignation about Olynthus’ fall may not be doubted. Apparently, it was perceived as inappropriate and shameless to take advantage of unfortunate Olynthians, buy or mistreat them. Such accusations became a tool of political invective, 32 Gaca (2010) 117, 156–58: old people, infants and toddlers were killed and desirable women, girls, and boys captured and sold. See also Volkmann (1961); Heinrichs (2001); Ruffing (2015). 33 For example, Athens did this to Melus and Scione (Thuc. 5.32.1, 116.4), Thebes to Plataea and Orchomenus (Arr. Anab. 1.9.7; Diod. Sic. 15.79.3–6; Dem. 16.4, 16.25). 34 Cf. Asirvatham (2010); Watson (2016) 59, 63; Pownall (2020a); Hermann (2021). 35 Cf. Harris (1995) 46–49, 156. On Athens and Olynthus, see Cawkwell (1962). On Olynthus, see Psoma (2020).

War Crimes?

559

used against Charidemus who was reported to have tried to make a beautiful Olynthian captive his boy toy (Theopomp. BNJ 115 F 143) and against Aeschines and Philocrates (Dem. On the False Embassy 196–198, 309). Thanks to these charges, a subject is brought up that is mostly absent from the reports about the conquest of Olynthus: the sexual abuse of war captives.36 In times of war, women, girls, and boys were raped and often subjected to continuous sexual abuse. In scholarship, this appalling mistreatment is variously interpreted as an instrument of the opponent’s domestication, an excessive post-conquest triumph and sign of victory, retaliatory violence or retribution, a weapon of war directed against the family structure, or an orchestrated policy in order to demoralize the families of the defeated warriors.37 It is supposed that rape was an abhorrent by-product of mass enslavements and seizures of cities in general and that this was widely known.38 This probable awareness may be mirrored the comment of Diodorus (19.8.4) that he wants to be silent about the fate of the Syracusan women during Agathocles’ elimination of the oligarchs (in about 316/15) since his readers do not want to hear all the details they can imagine themselves. In the trial against Aeschines (343), Demosthenes sheds a light on the misery of a formerly respectable Olynthian woman who was enslaved by Philip and ended up in the house of a son of one of the Thirty (thus, according to contemporary Athenian view, the brood of an “evil tyrant”) who lived in Macedonia. Forced to adopt the role of a hetaera, she had to be present at a symposium. When Aeschines and his companion (allegedly) forced her to sing for them and she refused to humiliate herself, she was disrobed and nearly beaten to death (Dem. On the False Embassy 196–98). While Aeschines denied this outrage (On the Embassy 4, 153–54), he did not reject her fate as fictitious. It was a piece of contemporary reality: this could happen to every woman, girl, or boy in a conquered city. Another scattered piece of evidence is provided by Diodorus (16.55.3–4): shortly after Olynthus’ fall, at a symposium, Philip granted the wish of his sorrowful guest, the actor Satyrus, to release two Olynthian teenage girls, the daughters of an old friend of his. Satyrus wanted to save them from any assault, give them a dowry, and arrange marriages for them.

36 Pritchett (GSW 5:140) speaks of “a few painful traces” of the sufferings of the Olynthians. On women in the campaigns of Philip and Alexander in general, see the chapter by Carney. 37 For an overview, see Gaca (2011) 79–80, 87. In general, see Lerner (1986); Scodel (1998) 138; Gaca (2011) 77–88, (2014) 305–306, (2015) 279; Heckel and McLeod (2015) 253–58; Rollinger (2018). 38 Gaca (2011) 74. See also GSW 5:240. On the scarcity of remarks on rape in wartime in the ancient sources, see Heckel and McLeod (2015) 254.

560

Müller

Such references to the tragic fate of being forced into sexual submission are extremely rare in the accounts on Philip’s conquests. The female Olynthians and the boy whom Charidemus was said to have harassed stand for many victims of sexual abuse. 3

Considerations on the Campaigns of Alexander

In Neronian times, Lucanus maligned Alexander as a slayer and pestilence of mankind who stained the Euphrates and Ganges with blood (Phars. 10.30–36). In late antiquity, the Christian writer Orosius called Alexander insatiably blood-thirsty (3.18.10) and the fiercest cyclone for the entire East (3.7.5). Influenced by Sasanian hostile tradition on Alexander as a cruel and immoderate tyrant, an agent of lies and darkness, in his Shahnameh (late tenth/early eleventh century CE), the Persian poet Ferdowsi depicted Alexander as a destroyer of the Persian Empire and the Zoroastrian scriptures.39 These are only a few examples of the theme of violence in the countless images of Alexander in his literary afterlife. In scholarship, during the last decades, formerly predominating artificial images of Alexander such as the adventurer, the unifier of mankind, the tyrant and butcher, Persia’s destroyer, the victim of “eastern vices,” or the lover of Persian culture have been rejected. Alexander is now mainly seen as a military strategist and political pragmatist—albeit one who massively and increasingly employed violence as political means.40 Thus, in particular the Indian campaign (327–325) to the Indus valley involved an increasing amount of bloodshed, massacre, and raiding. Brian Bosworth and Richard Stoneman characterized it as a “reign of terror.”41 Apparently, the frustrating failure to 39 However, he depicts Alexander simultaneously as a son of Darius III and legitimate heir of the Achaemenid throne. On Alexander’s ambiguous Eastern reception, see Wiesehöfer (2011); Nabel (2018) 197–216. On the Alexander Romance (as the source of the positive tradition in the East) and its impact in general, see Stoneman (2008). 40 Cf. Engels (1978); Bosworth (1988); Wirth (1989, 1993); Briant (2010); Anson (2013, 2015); Bowden (2014); Müller (2019); Heckel (2008, 2020); Nawotka (2010, 2021). As said below, numbers of dead in ancient historiography are problematic. They were often symbolic and exaggerated; they either served propagandistic purposes or were stylistic devices. Heckel and McLeod (2015, 238, 245, 247) assume that the minimum dead on the Persian side at Granicus was 12,000, at Issus 71,000, at Gaugamela 40,000, during the Bactrian-Sogdian revolt 35,170 and during the Indian campaign 211,300. However, it is difficult to be certain about any of these numbers. 41 Bosworth (1996) 30, 159–64; Stoneman (2020) 279. See also Anson (2015) 229–30. Earlier, a similarly critical approach was taken by Narain (1965). On Macedonians and India in general, see Stoneman (2019).

War Crimes?

561

establish direct control over fringe areas, mountain people, or other unruly territories the Persian kings had only ruled indirectly, triggered an extreme employment of demonstrative violence as punishment for resistance, especially on the retreat. In order to approach the phenomenon of violence, it would be misleading to focus only on Alexander or to ask for any personal motives.42 The destruction of Thebes, the brutal subjection of Miletus, the massacre of the Greek mercenaries at Granicus,43 the mass killing and mass enslavement at Tyre, the massacre at Gaza, and the degrading, merciless treatment of the female captives after Issus (when Darius’ camp was taken by Parmenion) date to a stage of the campaign when Parmenion and Philotas were the leading generals and to a great extent the masterminds of the war. Still under Philip’s reign, as a commander of the advance force in Asia Minor, in the case of Gryneium, Parmenion had employed the method of punishing a whole town and its population severely (Diod. Sic. 17.7.9).44 The leading generals apparently consented to the use of massive violence. For example, in his history of Alexander’s campaign, Ptolemy demonstrated that he had no problem with inflated numbers of dead and captured enemies. He also claimed that so many Persians were slaughtered near Issus that the Macedonian cavalry crossed a ravine on their bodies (ap. Arr. Anab. 2.11.8), an act of blatant disrespect for the dead—if the story was true.45 In any case, it revealed a scornful attitude towards the Persians. Regarding the justification of violence under Alexander, the theme of the (alleged) panhellenic revenge was predominant from 334 until the summer of 330. However, the Alexander historiographers carried on referring to it during 42

As a crucial element of the stereotypical “tyrant”, his assaults against the enemy are often explained by his uncontrolled emotions. Hence, reports depicting Alexander as flying into a rage when meeting resistance and/or receiving a wound and therefore committing war atrocities out of anger and fury (f.i., Curt. 4.6.24; 8.10.6) are biased and cannot be taken at face value. A prime example is provided by Hegesias of Magnesia’s appalling tale (BNJ 142 F 5) that at Gaza, an infuriated, wounded Alexander took his anger out on the governor Batis by dragging the naked man to his death behind his chariot, allegedly an insane imitation of Achilles. Cf. Heckel and McLeod (2015) 249–50, n. 40; Heckel (2021) 112–16; but see Haake (2020) 84–95. 43 After the battle at the Granicus, the Greek misthophoroi who fought for the Persians (reportedly 20,000: Diod. Sic. 17.21.6) were refused a negotiated surrender and massacred. Only 2000 survived and were sent to hard labor camps in Macedonia (Arr. Anab. 1.16.2, 16.5–6). Cf. Heckel and McLeod (2015) 235, n. 4; Heinrichs (2020b) 248–49. Perhaps the Macedonian side could not afford to take these professionals into their service and therefore slaughtered them before they could be hired by their adversaries again. On the Greek misthophoroi fighting in the service of Philip’s and Alexander’s adversaries, see Rop (2018) 176–230. On mercenaries in general, see the chapter by Franca Landucci. 44 Heckel (2016) 44–51. 45 Heckel (2015) 236, 237, n. 4.

562

Müller

the later stages of the war.46 After Darius’ assassination, Alexander posed as his avenger. During the Bactrian-Sogdian revolt and the Indian campaign, resistance (thus endangering the enterprise) seems to have been the sufficient explanation to employ demonstrative violence. An act of demonstrative violence against an individual, mentioned by Arrian (Anab. 4.7.4), is connected with Alexander’s new propaganda theme as Darius’ avenger and legitimate successor after 330: according to Arrian, the captured regicide Bessus, influential counter-king and probably an Achaemenid himself,47 was terribly mutilated—in Arrian’s eyes a “barbarian” atrocity unsuitable for a descendant of Heracles such as Alexander.48 Some scholars identify this mutilation as a reference to Persian traditions, connected with the supervision of Bessus’ execution by the members of Darius’ inner circle who cooperated with Alexander (Arr. Anab. 4.7.3–4; Curt. 7.5.40; 7.10.10–11).49 However, other scholars doubt the authenticity of this mutilation.50 As for urbicide, the uncompromising treatment of cities such as Tyre and Gaza, important strongpoints at the Levantine coast necessary to seize in order to lead the troops to Egypt, or Cyrupolis, a threatening gesture to the Bactrian and Sogdian rebels, was at least noted by the ancient authors. However, the fall of Thebes (335) received more attention than the destruction of non-Greek cities (Aeschin. 3.133; Diod. Sic. 17.13.3–14.4; Arr. Anab. 1.7.1–9.10; Just. Epit. 11.2.8–3.7; Plut. Dem. 23.1–2; Plut. Alex. 11.4–6; Plut. Mor. 327 C; Polyb. 5.10.6–8; Ael. VH 13.7; BNJ 148, F 1.2; Hyp. Diondas 173 v 25–27).51

46 See Squillace (2010); Pownall (2020a). On Darius and Alexander, see Bosworth (1988); Wirth (1993a); Briant (2010) 7–12, 42–52; Heinrichs (2020a) 35–36; Müller (2019) 79–154; Heckel (2020) 41–170, (2021) 20–22, 146–48; Bowden (2021). On the change of propaganda after Darius’ death, see Anson (2021) 22–23. 47 On Bessus, see Holt (1988) 45–50, 52–57, 69–71; Briant (2010) 15, 54–55; Heckel (2008) 92–97, (2020) 160–79, (2021) 131–32; Müller (2020a); Olbrycht (2020) 131. On Bessus’ likely Achaemenid descent, see Jacobs (1992) 182; Heckel (2008) 87; Olbrycht (2020) 131. 48 On Arrian’s moral criticism of Alexander, see Bosworth (1995) 45–90; (2010) 203–204; Burliga (2013) 6, 42, 62, 94–96. 49 Jacobs (1992) argues that it echoes the punishment of two of the rebels against Darius I’s accession in 522/1 mentioned in the Behistun inscription (DB III § 32–33). See also Heckel (2008) 95. 50 It is uncertain whether the mutilation mentioned in the Behistun inscription was a real or merely a symbolic punishment, cf. Madreiter (2012) 85–92. 51 For example, in comparison with his report on the fall of Thebes (Just. Epit. 11.2.8–4.9), Trogus-Justin’s report on the siege of Tyre that lasted seven months and contained a sea battle and the building of a mole is roughly only as half as long (11.10.11–14). On the fate of Thebes, see Bosworth (1988) 32–33, 194–97; Heckel (2008) 29–30; Wirth (1999) 103; Bowden (2014) 46–47; Anson (2015) 223–24; Müller (2018).

War Crimes?

563

Thebes’ destruction was officially decreed by a council representative of the Corinthian League, equipped with enemies and victims of Thebes (Diod. Sic. 17.14.4; Arr. Anab. 1.9.9–10).52 Nevertheless, it was clear that the Macedonians engineered it.53 However, due to Thebes’ unpopularity with the Greeks who remembered her rigid politics during her supremacy and still perceived the Thebans as ardent friends of medism (Just. Epit. 11.3.8–11; Dem. On the Navy 33–34; Aeschin. Against Ctesiphon 116), contemporary reactions were mixed. Aeschines may have voiced thoughts shared by many Greeks when he stated that Thebes’ fate was rough but justified, since the policy of the Thebans was wrong and they were blinded by divine forces (Against Ctesiphon 133).54 However, Greeks might have thought that the Thebans were punished by the wrong people. No Macedonian should have had the possibility to interfere in Greek politics in that way. The contemporary Athenian Dinarchus (Against Demosthenes 24) addresses the rarely mentioned bitter fate of the captured children and wives of the Thebans who were distributed among the tents of the “barbarians” (= the Macedonians). They were treated as booty, submitted to any kind of violence. Curtius and Plutarch criticize another urbicide as atrocious: the Sogdian city of the so-called Branchidae. They were massacred despite their surrender in 329 (Strabo 17.1.43; Curt. 7.5.28–35; Plut. Mor. 557B). It was certainly an example of shock and awe meant to intimidate and demoralize the Sogdian rebels.55 However, the merciless reaction to the submission of the Branchidae was likely counterproductive and fueled the resistance to the Macedonians (Curt. 7.6.15; 8.6.14–15). Curtius and Plutarch may have been upset because they believed in the claim that the massacred Branchidae were descendants of Greeks. This rumor was apparently spread by Callisthenes. Since the incident seems to have been controversial even at Alexander’s court, Callisthenes (BNJ 124 F 14a = Strabo 17.1.43) deliberately distorted Persian history (widely 52 Cf. Bosworth (1988) 195; Bowden (2014) 47. 53 On the one hand, it was a warning and example directed at potential Greek rebels. In addition, it was a clear sign directed at Persia that Darius’ subsidies had led to nothing. Simultaneously, it was a Macedonian consensus strategy to the end of winning over the Greeks who had suffered from Theban politics. 54 Diodorus echoes this statement, stressing that by the resolution of war, the Thebans sealed their own fate although they should have known better. For they had received several heavenly warnings: 17.19.1–6. Cf. Arr. Anab. 1.9.7. 55 Cf. Parke (1985); Holt (1988) 74–75; Hammond (1998); Heckel (2008) 95–97; Heckel and McLeod (2015) 240–41; Müller (2019) 95–96; Müller (2020b). On the Bactrian-Sogdian Revolt in general, see Holt (1988); Briant (2010) 54–58; Parke (2007); Olbrycht (2020); Vacante (2012); Müller (2019) 168–77; Heckel (2020) 171–99.

564

Müller

known from Herodotus) in order to create a panhellenic scenario portraying the Branchidae as the descendants of evil collaborators of Xerxes who were rightly punished by Alexander. Compared to the reports on Philip’s warfare, sexual violence against captives is mentioned more often by the Alexander historiographers: members of the troops fighting under Alexander raped, violated, humiliated, robbed, or enslaved women of the defeated during the fall of Thebes (Plut. Mor. 259e–260a; Din. Against Demosthenes 24), after the battle of Issus (Curt. 3.11.21–22; Diod. Sic. 17.35.6–36.4) and during the pillaging of Persepolis (Diod. Sic. 17.70.6). The merciful treatment of the captured Achaemenid women is depicted as an exception to the rule and a sign of Alexander’s clemency and magnanimity: our sources stress unanimously that it was an honor that he did not touch them (Arr. Anab. 2.12.5; 4.19.6; Plut. Alex. 21.4–5; 22.2; 30.3; Plut. Mor. 522a; Diod. Sic. 17.38.1–3; Curt. 3.12.21–26; 4.10.18–19; Just. Epit. 11.9.15–16, 12.6–8).56 Curtius (3.11.21–23) stresses the crudelitas and licentia of the Macedonian soldiers who brutally mass-raped the female members of the high-ranking Persian families after the capture of Darius’ camp at Issus. Tending to show the brutal, ugly face of war, colored by an empathic undertone as a means of moral didacticism to inspire pity for the victims by bringing historical human suffering to life,57 Diodorus (17.35.4–36.1) provides more violent details: The fate of these female captives was extremely miserable … Some of the captors dragged the unfortunate women by their hair, others ripped off their clothes and forced them forward by hitting them with their hands or their spear-butts on their naked bodies  … Now the most prudent Macedonians regarded this reversal of tyche with empathy and felt sorry for those who experienced the violent change of their former fate … But most of the soldiers did not share this attitude.58 The fate of the high-ranking captive Barsine is another example of sexual abuse after Issus.59 While she is often euphemistically characterized as Alexander’s “lover,” she was in fact a rape victim, treated as booty. Barsine was related to several persons crucial to the Persian resistance and Aegean counterattack: 56 Cf. Carney (2000) 96–97; Carney (2003) 246, 248. 57 Cf. Hau (2016) 75, 85–86, 113, 120. This description contains two prominent motifs in Diodorus’ work: the message “Never trust your good fortune” and the reversal of fate. Cf. Hornblower (1983); Hau (2016) 84–94; Roisman (2018). On divine intervention in Diodorus, see Durvye (2018). 58 Cf. Prandi (2013) 55–56; Hau (2016) 113–14; Williams (2018). 59 On Barsine, see Heckel (2020) 87; Müller (2020e). On Issus, see Heinrichs (2020c).

War Crimes?

565

her father was Artabazus, Darius’ staunch supporter, her recently deceased husband was Memnon of Rhodes, whom she had just born a baby son, and her brother was Pharnabazus, who held on to crucial bases in the Aegean and Western Anatolia. Barsine’s other male relatives helped Darius to levy new forces to sustain the war. In this situation, suspiciously, news was spread that Alexander had made her his mistress (Plut. Alex. 21.4; Diod. Sic. 17.23.5), surely a disgrace for her family. Thus, it may have been a piece of psychological warfare intended to demoralize the commanders of the counterattack. But they carried on resisting until the fall of Tyre (332). Another aspect prominent in reports on Alexander’s campaigns is the (mis)treatment of the cultural property of the defeated. In general, the ancient attitude was ambiguous. Concurrently with the practice of carrying off valuable artefacts as booty, in the Greek and Roman cultural memory, there existed an ideological discourse about the “appropriate” treatment of the enemy’s cultural property in wartime (cf. Polyb. 5.10.6–8). The unwritten moral code to avoid damage or destruction is especially the case with sanctuaries but also with non-sacral artifacts carrying a symbolic value.60 There is evidence that the Macedonians damaged and looted Persian cultural property. The prime example is what happened to parts of the palace and the treasury of Persepolis (330). Before leaving this ideological core of Achaemenid Persia, the Macedonians plundered the palace area. The archaeological report testifies to a carefully arranged conflagration that affected only the parts of the palace identifiable (by inscriptions) as Xerxes’ constructions, in particular the Apadana and Hadiš. This seems to indicate that this controversial incident was a propagandistic marker of the accomplishment of the alleged panhellenic mission.61 It is thought that it might simultaneously have been directed at the Persians, to intimidate Darius and his followers by destroying a visible symbol of Achaemenid rule and/or to court other parts of the Persian elite by signaling the return to the Teispid tradition of Cyrus II.62

60 Cf. Kousser (2009) 274. Trogus-Justin (Epit. 8.3.5; 8.5.5) promptly accuses Philip of violations and plundering of temples. 61 Bosworth (1988) 93; Wirth (1993) 226; Wiesehöfer (1993) 150; Heckel (2008) 84; Anson (2013) 7, 134, 153–57, (2015) 216–18; Bowden (2014) 73–74, (2021) 140; Heckel and McLeod (2015) 242. 62 Teispid tradition: Wiesehöfer (1993) 150; Briant (2010) 110–11. Threat to Darius or attempt to rid any rival of the chance to enthrone himself in Persepolis: Balcer (1978) 131–32. On Alexander and Cyrus II, see Jamzadeh (2012) 110–14. Nawotka (2021) 479 suggests another alternative explanation: first Alexander tried to win over the Persians and when he failed, he destroyed the parts of the palace.

566

Müller

The excavation report from the treasure house of Persepolis shows that the Macedonians robbed what was valuable and easy to carry off and destroyed the rest.63 About 600 clay vessels for a great variety of stores were smashed. Nicholas Cahill calls it “sheer vandalism.”64 The troops also damaged and scattered sculptures (even of Greek provenance such as the so-called Penelope of Persepolis), jewelry, precious stones, cloth decorations, and sacred objects.65 Some of the latter will have been recognizable as such even for foreigners.66 All the damage and destruction seems to mirror the rampant actions of a marauding soldiery given permission to recoup for an exhausting and hard campaign. They rushed through the treasuries leaving a scene of destruction. However, given the panhellenic propaganda of the campaign, the ideological background cannot have been absent. Thus, regarding Razmjou’s categorization, it may suit “damage caused by invading armies” with an ideological color and also, at least concerning the conflagration of Xerxes’ buildings, “damage ordered by an authority motivated by ideological reasons.” The excavation report confirms Curtius’—however biased—description (5.6.3–5) that the Macedonians went berserk at the sight of the treasures accumulated at Persepolis, ripped statues from their bases, stole works of art and hacked them to pieces.67 Also Diodorus (17.70.1–6) reports that the Macedonians gave themselves up to an orgy of plunder. It might however be exaggerated that they were fighting with each other for the Persian riches and thereby chopping the hands of their rivals off to get the most precious booty. The find of an iron saw blade may confirm the information that the soldiers cut some of the objects into pieces to transport them (Curt. 5.6.3–5).68 63 Cf. Schmidt (1939) 16–17, 55, 65–82; Cahill (1985) 383; Sancisi-Weerdenburg (1997) 181–85. A number of these smashed vessels and tableware were inscribed “Xerxes the Great King.” Cf. Cahill (1985) 383. Booty from the Persian campaign might have been used for the political self-fashioning of Ptolemaic kings. Such an attitude might be mirrored by the epigrams of Posidippus of Pella in the Lithika treating marvelous Persian gemstones, obviously spoils either from the Achaemenid treasures, dowries of noble Persian ladies, or possessions of Persian nobles. The stones symbolize the Macedonian conquest. Cf. Kuttner (2005); Prioux (2010); Müller (2015) 141–147. This may be another reminder of how different the ancient views on looted art are in comparison to the modern view. 64 Cahill (1985) 383. 65 Cf. Razmjou (2002) 89; Schmidt (1939) 65–82. 66 Cf. Cahill (1985) 382. The “Penelope of Persepolis” (a headless torso and a right hand) lay in the ruins of the treasury. Cf. Schmidt (1939) 65–67; Cahill (1985) 383; Palagia (2008) 223. Presumably, the life-size statue of the “Penelope” was regarded as too heavy to carry it off completely. 67 Cf. Razmjou (2002) 98; Cahill (1985) 374. 68 Cf. Schmidt (1939) 82.

War Crimes?

567

While highly dramatized, an episode told by Plutarch (Alex. 37.3.) seems to be another confirmation of the disrespectful treatment of Persian cultural property at Persepolis. He reports that Alexander found a statue of Xerxes pulled accidentally over by plundering Macedonian soldiers who had forced their way into the palace. Allegedly, Alexander considered to set it up again but decided against it for “panhellenic” reasons.69 Shahrokh Razmjou suggests that the palace area of Susa was also plundered by the Macedonians although it is not mentioned by the Alexander historiographers. His assumption is based on the close examination of the varied forms of damage inflicted on the colossal granite statue of Darius I, made in Egypt, found at the Gate of Darius at Susa. The statue shows multiple deep hacking marks and other damages Razmjou identifies as signs of “wanton casual violence against the image in the guise of target practice by bow and arrow, spear, and sword.”70 Johannes Heinrichs suggests that rather than swords some sling bullets may have hit the statue; the Macedonians may also have tried to chop off the right hand that originally held a lotus flower.71 In case that the damage to the statue was done by the Macedonians—which is an assumption—it is difficult to decide if it was an act of thoughtless vandalism or a political statement. However, given the panhellenic propaganda of Philip and Alexander, it is hardly imaginable that there was no ideological background at all. 4

Conclusions

Philip tried to justify the employment of demonstrative violence in his campaigns. For example, he posed as the avenger of his brother against the Illyrians, as defender of Apollo against the Phocians, and as persecutor of his treacherous half-brothers in Olynthus. Contemporaries and later authors seem to have taken note of atrocities primarily in the case of Greek victims, perceived as innocent. In particular the Olynthians, who were Athens’ allies and whose fate was embodied by the enslaved who were distributed as booty, was perceived as shocking and appalling. As for Alexander’s campaigns, while the panhellenic theme of revenge was a justification until 330 and the pose as Darius’ avenger until the death of Bessus (329), the fight against resistance seems to have been the main justification for demonstrative violence during the rest of the campaigns. However, 69 On the artifice of this episode, see Mossman (1988) 92–93. 70 Razmjou (2002) 92–97. 71 Heinrichs (2022) 86–87.

568

Müller

although the ancient authors provide more references to massacre, mass rape, mass enslavement, and destruction or looting of cultural property, only a few of these instances are explicitly criticized as atrocious, such as the sack of Thebes (in particular by the Boeotian Plutarch), the mutilation of Bessus (primarily because in Arrian’s opinion, a descendant of Heracles should not adapt “barbarian” customs), the treatment of the Branchidae (since they were believed to descend from Greeks), or the mass rape after Issus and the pillaging of Persepolis. However, regarding the latter episode, Curtius is more concerned with criticizing the immoderate Macedonians than with feeling sorry for the Persian women or the cultural objects. While Diodorus shows more empathy, he transfers these atrocities to an abstract, universal level as a lesson about the mutability of fate. Perhaps this was one possible way to think about war atrocities in antiquity? While unfortunately, these acts of violence accompanied war, people preferred to hope that they happened far away, not in the near neighborhood, not to an ally, kin, or family member, and not to themselves?72 Works Cited Ameling, W. (ed) (2022) Centre and Periphery: Working with the Inscriptions of Iudaea/Palaestina. Berlin. Anson, E. M. (2008) “Philip II and the Transformation of Macedonia: A Reappraisal,” in Howe and Reames (2008) 17–30. Anson, E. M. (2013) Alexander the Great. Themes and Issues. London. Anson, E. M. (2015) “‘Shock and Awe’ à la Alexander the Great,” in Heckel et al. (2015) 213–32. Anson, E. M. (2021) “Alexander the Great: A Life Lived as Legend,” in Walsh and Baynham (2021) 14–32. Anson, E. M. (2022) “Philip and Alexander and the Nature of their Personal Kingship,” in Pownall, Asirvatham, and Müller (2022) 17–31. D’Agostini, M., Anson, E. M., and Pownall, F. (eds) (2021) Affective Relations and Personal Bonds in Hellenistic Antiquity: Studies in Honor of Elizabeth D. Carney. London. Asirvatham, S. R. (2010) “Perspectives on the Macedonians from Greece, Rome and Beyond,” in Roisman and Worthington (2010) 99–124. Balcer, J. M. (1978) “Alexander’s Burning of Persepolis.” IA 13: 120–33.

72

I am grateful to Ed Anson for inviting me to contribute to this Companion.

War Crimes?

569

Beek, A. L. (2021) “Mercenaries and Moral Concerns,” in Chlup and Whately (2021) 121–35. Bosworth, A. B. (1988) Conquest and Empire: The Reign of Alexander the Great. Cambridge. Bosworth, A. B. (1995) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander, Vol. II. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1996) Alexander and the East: The Tragedy of Triumph. Oxford. Bowden, H. (2014) Alexander the Great. A Very Short Introduction. Oxford. Bowden, H. (2021) “The Man Who Would Be King: Alexander between Gaugamela and Persepolis,” in Walsh and Baynham (2021) 129–49. Briant, P. (2010) Alexander the Great and his Empire. Princeton. Bryant, M. (2015) A Word History of War Crimes: From Antiquity to the Present. London. Buckler, J. (1989) Philip II and the Sacred War. Leiden. Burliga, B. (2013) Arrian’s Anabasis. An Intellectual and Cultural Story. Gdánsk. Cahill, N. (1985) “The Treasury at Persepolis: Gift-Giving at the City of the Persians.” AJA 89: 373–89. Campbell, B. and Tritle, L. A. (eds) (2013) The Oxford Handbook of Warfare in the Classical World. Oxford. Carlsen, J., Due, O., Due, B., and Poulsen, B. (eds) (1997) Alexander the Great: Reality and Myth, 2nd edn. Rome. Carney, E. D. (2000) Women and Monarchy in Macedonia. Norman, OK. Carney, E. D. (2003) “Women in Alexander’s Court,” in Roisman (2003) 227–52. Carney, E. D. and Ogden, D. (eds) (2010) Philip II and Alexander the Great: Father and Son, Lives and Afterlives. Oxford. Cawkwell, G. L. (1962) “The Defense of Olynthus.” CQ 12: 122–40. Champion, M. and O’Sullivan, L. (2017a) “‘War Is the Father and King of All.’ Discussions, Experiences and Theories in Hellenistic Violence,” in Champion and O’Sullivan (2017b) 1–20. Champion, M. and O’Sullivan, L. (eds) (2017b) Cultural Perceptions of Violence in the Hellenistic World. London. DOI: 10.4324/9781315208329 Chaniotis, A. (2005) War in the Hellenistic World: A Social and Cultural History. Oxford. Chlup, J. and Whately, C. (eds) (2021) Greek and Roman Military Manuals Genre and History. London. Clark, J. H. and Turner, B. (eds) (2017) Brill’s Companion to Military Defeat in Ancient Mediterranean Society. Warfare in the Ancient Mediterranean World 2. Leiden. Darbandi, S. M. R. and Zournatzi, A. (eds) (2008) Ancient Greece and Ancient Iran. Cross-Cultural Encounters. Athens. D’Huys, V. (1987) “How to Describe Violence in Historical Narrative: Reflections of the Ancient Greek Historians and their Ancient Critics.” AncSoc 18: 209–50.

570

Müller

Durvye, C. (2018) “The Role of the Gods in Diodoros’ Universal History,” in Hau et al. (2018) 347–64. Engels, D. (1978) Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army. Berkeley. Filonik, J., Griffith-Williams, B., and Kucharski, J. (eds) (2020) The Making of Identities in Athenian Oratory. London. Gaca, K. L. (2010) “The Andrapodizing of War Captives in Greek Historical Memory.” TAPhA 140: 117–61. Gaca, K. L. (2011) “Girls, Women, and the Significance of Sexual Violence in Ancient Warfare,” in Heineman (2011) 73–88. Gaca, K. L. (2014) “Martial Rape, Pulsating Fear, and the Sexual Maltreatment of Girls (παῖδες), Virgins (παρθένοι) and Women (γυναῖκες) in Antiquity.” AJPh 135: 303–57. Gaca, K. L. (2015) “Ancient Warfare and the Ravaging Martial Rape of Girls and Women,” in Masterson et al. (2015) 278–97. Goldman, M. L. (2017) “Demosthenes, Chaeronea, and the Rhetoric of Defeat,” in Clark and Turner (2017) 123–43. Gutzwiller, K. (ed) (2005) The New Posidippus: A Hellenistic Poetry Book. Oxford. Haake, M. (2020) “Violence and Legitimation. The Social Logic of Alexander the Great’s Acts of Violence between the Danube and Indus. A Conceptual Outline and a Case Study,” in Trampedach and Meeus (2020) 77–95. Hammond, N. G. L. (1998) “The Branchidae at Didyma and in Sogdiana.” CQ 48: 339–44. Harris, E. M. (1995) Aischines and Athenian Politics. New York. Harris, E. M. (2018) “The Stereotype of Tyranny and the Tyranny of Stereotypes: Demosthenes on Philip II of Macedon,” in Kalaitzi et al. (2018) 167–78. Hau, L. I. (2016) Moral History from Herodotus to Diodorus Siculus. Edinburgh. Hau, L. I., Meeus, A., and Sheridan, B. (eds) (2018) Diodoros of Sicily: Historiographical Theory and Practice in the Bibliotheke. Leuven. Heckel, W. (2008) The Conquests of Alexander the Great. Oxford. Heckel, W. (2016) Alexander’s Marshals: A Study of the Makedonian Aristocracy and the Politics of Military Leadership. London. Heckel, W. (2020) In the Path of Conquest. Military and Political Resistance to Alexander the Great. Oxford. Heckel, W. (2021) Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander: From Chaironeia to Ipsos (338–301 B.C.). Barnsley, UK. Heckel, W. and McLeod, J. L. (2015) “Alexander the Great and the Fate of the Enemy: Quantifying, Qualifying, and Categorizing Atrocities,” in Heckel et al. (2015) 233–67. Heckel, W., Müller, S., and Wrightson, G. (eds) (2015) The Many Faces of War in the Ancient World. Newcastle upon Tyne. Heineman, E. (ed) (2011) Sexual Violence in Conflict Zones. Philadelphia. Heinen, H. (ed) (2017) Handwörterbuch der antiken Sklaverei (HAS). Vol. 1. Stuttgart. Heinrichs, J. (2001) “Sklaverei IV: Rom II.” DNP 11: 627–30.

War Crimes?

571

Heinrichs, J. (2020a) “Achaimenids,” in LAM: 243–44. Heinrichs, J. (2020b) “Granikos, Battle of,” in LAM: 247–49. Heinrichs, J. (2020c) “Issos, Battle of,” in LAM: 539–40. Heinrichs, J. (2022) “Erased Kings’ Names in Late Seleukid Inscriptions,” in Ameling (2022) 55–90. Herrmann, J. (2020) “Seeing Others as Athenians in Demosthenes’ Third Philippic,” in Filonik, Griffith-Williams and Kucharski (2020) 137–45. Hewitt, K. (1983) “Place Annihilation: Area Bombing and the Fate of Urban Places.” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 73: 257–84. Hölscher, T. (2003) “Images of War in Greece and Rome. Between Military Practice, Public Memory, and Cultural Symbolism.” JRS 93: 1–17. Holt, F. L. (1988) Alexander the Great and Bactria. Leiden. Hornblower, S. (1983) “Alexander and τύχη. A Note on Diodorus.” LCM 8: 43. Hornblower, S. (1991) A Commentary on Thucydides, Vol. 1. Oxford. Howe, T. and Reames, J. (eds) (2008) Macedonian Legacies. Claremont, CA. Jacobs, B. (1992) “Der Tod des Bessos.” Acta Praehistorica et Archaeologica 24: 177–86. Jacobs, B. and Rollinger R. (eds) (2010) Der achaimenidische Hof. The Achaemenid Court. Wiesbaden. Jacobs, B. and Rollinger R. (eds) (2021) A Companion to the Achaemenid Persian Empire. Oxford. Jamzadeh, P. (2012) Alexander Histories and Iranian Reflections. Boston. Johncock, M. and Sanders, E. (eds) (2016) Emotion and Persuasion in Classical Antiquity. Stuttgart. Kalaitzi, M., Paschalis, P., Antonetti, C., and Guimier-Sorbets, A.-M. (eds) (2018) Βορεισελ­λαδικά: Tales from the Land of the ethne, Athens. Kapellos, A. (ed) (2019) Xenophon on Violence. Berlin. Keogh, T. (2020a) “Introduction,” in Keogh (2020b) 1–16. Keogh, T. (ed) (2020b) War and the City: The Urban Context of Conflict and Mass Destruction. Paderborn. Keppler, A. (1997) “Über einige Formen der medialen Wahrnehmung von Gewalt,” in Trotha (1997) 380–400. Kousser, R. (2009) “Destruction and Memory on the Athenian Acropolis.” ArtBull 91: 263–82. Kuttner, A. (2005) “Cabinet Fit for a Queen: The Lithika as Posidippus’ Gem Museum,” in Gutzwiller (2005) 141–63. Lerner, G. (1986) The Creation of Patriarchy. Oxford. Londey, P. (1994) “Philip II and the Delphic Amphictyony.” MedArch 7: 25–34. Madreiter, I. (2012) Stereotypisierung—Idealisierung—Indifferenz. Formen der Ausei­ nan­dersetzung mit dem Achaimeniden-Reich in der griechischen Persika-Literatur. Wiesbaden.

572

Müller

Masterson, M., Rabinowitz, N. S., and Robson, J. (eds) (2015) Sex in Antiquity. London. Miles, M. M. (2008) Art as Plunder: The Ancient Origins of Debate about Cultural Property. Cambridge. Miles, M. M. (2014) “Burnt Temples in the Landscape of the Past,” in Pieper and Ker (2014) 111–45. Moore, K. R. (ed) (2018) Brill’s Companion to the Reception of Alexander the Great. Leiden. Mossman, J. M. (1988) “Tragedy and Epic in Plutarch’s Alexander.” JHS 108: 83–93. Müller, S. (2015) “Poseidippos of Pella and the Memory of Alexander’s Campaigns at the Ptolemaic Court,” in Heckel, Müller, and Wrightson (2015) 135–65. Müller, S. (2016) “Arrian, the Second Sophistic, Xerxes, and the Statues of Harmodios and Aristogeiton,” in Rollinger and Svärd (2016) 173–202. Müller, S. (2018) “Alexander and Macedonian Relations with Thebes—A Reassessment.” Anabasis 9: 21–39. Müller S. (2019) Alexander der Große. Politik—Eroberungen—Rezeption. Stuttgart. Müller, S. (2020a) “Bessos (Artaxerxes V),” in LAM: 141–44. Müller, S. (2020b) “Branchidai,” in LAM: 149–50. Müller, S. (2020c) “War Atrocities,” in LAM: 518–20. Müller, S. (2020d) “The Winner Takes It All? Persian Booty and Persian Cultural Property in Wartimes,” in Ruffing et al. (2020) 517–44. Müller, S. (2021e) “Barsine, Antigone and the Macedonian War,” in D’Agostini et al. (2021) 81–96. Muth, S. (2008) Gewalt im Bild: Das Phänomen der medialen Gewalt im Athen des 6. und 5. Jahrhunderts v. Chr. Berlin. Nabel, J. (2018) “Alexander between Rome and Persia: Politics, Ideology, and History,” in Moore (2018) 197–232. Narain, K. (1965) “Alexander and India.” G&R 12: 155–65. Nauroy, G. (ed) (2004) L’écriture du massacre en littérature entre histoire et mythe. Des mondes antiques à l’aube du XXIe siècle. Bern. Nawotka, K. (2010) Alexander the Great. Newcastle upon Tyne. Nawotka, K. (2021) “The Conquest by Alexander,” in Jacobs and Rollinger (2021) 473–82. Olbrycht, M. J. (2007) “Alexander the Great versus the Iranians.” Folia Orientalia 42/43: 159–72. Olbrycht, M. J. (2020) “Baktrian-Sogdian Revolt,” in LAM: 131–34. O’Sullivan, L. (2017) “Kings and Gods: Divine Narratives in Hellenistic Violence,” in Champion and O’Sullivan (2017b) 78–99. Palagia, O. (2008) “The Marble of the Penelope from Persepolis and its Historical Implications,” in Darbandi and Zournatzi (2008) 223–37. Parke, H. W. (1985) “The Massacre of the Branchidae.” JHS 105: 51–68. Pieper, C. and Ker, J. (eds) (2014) Valuing the Past in the Greco-Roman World. Leiden.

War Crimes?

573

Pownall, F. (2020a) “Alexander Historiographers,” in LAM: 50–55. Pownall, F. (2020b) “Barbaroi,” in LAM: 134–35. Pownall, F. (2020c) “Crocus Field, Battle of,” in LAM: 188–89. Pownall, F. (2020d) “Delphic Amphiktyony,” in LAM: 192–95. Pownall, F. (2020e) “Third Sacred War,” in LAM: 495–498. Pownall, F. (2020f) “Theopompos of Chios,” in LAM: 487–88. Pownall, F., Asirvatham, S., and Müller, S. (eds) (2022) The Courts of Philip II and Alexander the Great. Berlin. Psoma, S. (2020) “Olynthos,” in LAM: 361–63. Prandi, L. (2013) Diodoro Siculo. Biblioteca Storica Libro XVII. Commento Storico. Milan. Prioux, É. (2010) “Visite au cabinet des gemmes: images et idéologie lagides dans un cycle d’épigrammes hellénistiques,” in: Prioux and Rouveret (2010) 29–68. Prioux, É. and Rouveret, A. (eds) (2010) Métamorphoses du regard ancient. Paris. Rathmann, M. (ed) (2009) Studien zur antiken Geschichtsschreibung. Bonn. Razmjou, S. (2002) “Assessing the Damage: Notes on the Life and Demise of the Statue of Darius from Susa.” Ars Orientalis 32: 81–104. Roisman, J. (ed) (2003) Brill’s Companion to Alexander the Great. Leiden. Roisman, J. (2018) “Fate and Valor in three Battle Descriptions of Diodoros,” in Hau, Meeus, and Sheridan (2018) 507–18. Roisman, J. (2012) “Royal Power, Law, and Justice in Ancient Macedonia.” AHB 26: 131–48. Roisman, J. and Worthington, I. (eds) (2010) A Companion to Ancient Macedonia. Malden, MA. Rollinger, C. (2018) “Vae victae. Die Frau als Beute in der antiken (römischen) Kriegsführung,” in Walde and Wöhrle (2018) 91–126. Rollinger, R. (2010) “Extreme Gewalt und Strafgericht: Ktesias und Herodot als Zeugnisse für den Achaimenidenhof,” in Jacobs and Rollinger (2010) 559–666. Rollinger, R. and Svärd, S. (eds) (2016) Intellectual Heritage of the Ancient Near East. Vol. 2. Münster. Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (1998) Article 8, “War Crimes.” Rop, J. (2019) Greek Military Service in the Ancient Near East, 401–330 BCE. Cambridge. Rosivach, V. J. (1999) “Enslaving barbaroi and the Athenian Ideology of Slavery.” Historia 48: 129–57. Ruffing, K. (2017) “Andrapodismos,” in Heinen (2017) 109–10. Ruffing, K., Droß-Krüpe, K., Fink, S., and Rollinger, R. (eds) (2020) Societies at War. Münster. Sancisi-Weerdenburg, H. (1997) “Alexander and Persepolis,” in Carlsen et al. (1997) 177–87. Sanders, E. (2016) “Persuasion through Emotions in Athenian Deliberative Oratory: Introduction,” in Johncock and Sanders (2016) 57–73. Scarry, E. (1985) The Body in Pain. Oxford.

574

Müller

Scodel, R. (1998) “The Captive’s Dilemma: Sexual Acquiescence in Euripides Hecuba and Troades.” CPh 98: 137–54. Schmidt, E. F. (1939) The Treasury of Persepolis and Other Discoveries in the Homeland of the Achaemenians. Chicago. Schmitz, W. (2009) “Die Opfer des Krieges: Xenophon und die Wahrnehmung des Krieges in der griechischen Historiographie,” in Rathmann (2009) 55–89. Shrimpton, G. S. (1977) “Theopompus’ Treatment of Philip in the Philippica.” Phoenix 31: 123–44. Shrimpton, G. S. (1991) Theopompus the Historian. Montréal. Squillace, G. (2010) “Consensus Strategies under Philip and Alexander: The Revenge Theme,” in Carney and Ogden (2010) 69–80. Stoneman, R. (2008) Alexander the Great: A Life in Legend. London. Stoneman, R. (2019) The Greek Experience of India. London. Stoneman, R. (2020) “India,” in LAM: 275–80. Tabārā, R. (2014) “Sancţionarea crimelor de rāzboi în antichitate şi evul mediu” Studia Securitatis 2: 200–10. Trampedach, K. and Meeus, A. (eds) (2020) The Legitimation of Conquest: Monarchical Representation and the Art of Government in the Empire of Alexander the Great. Stuttgart. Tritle, L. A. (1997) “Mutilation of the Dead in Ancient Greece and Vietnam.” AHB 11: 123–36. Tritle, L. A. (2000) From Melos to My Lai. War and Survival. London. Tritle, L. A. (2013) “Men at War,” in Campbell and Tritle (2013) 281–93. Tritle, L. A. (2015) “Laughter in Battle,” in Heckel et al. (2015) 117–34. Tritle, L. A. (2020) “War Traumata,” in LAM: 521–22. Trotha, T. von (ed) (1997) Soziologie der Gewalt. Opladenroth. Vacante, S. (2012) “Alexander the Great and the ‘Defeat’ of the Sogdianian Revolt.” AHB 26: 87–130. Volkmann, H. (1961) Die Massenversklavungen der Einwohner eroberter Städte in der hellenistisch-römischen Zeit. Wiesbaden. Walde, C. and Wöhrle, G. (eds) (2018) Gender und Krieg. Trier. Walsh, J. and Baynham, E. (eds) (2021) Alexander the Great and Propaganda. London. Watson, C. (2016) “‘A Pestilent Knave from Macedonia.’ Narratives of Culture and Ethnicity in Demosthenes’ Third Philippic.” Pseudo-Dionysius 18: 59–66. Wiesehöfer, J. (1993) Das antike Persien von 550 v. Chr. bis 650 n. Chr. Zürich. Wiesehöfer, J. (2011) “The ‘Accursed’ and the ‘Adventurer’. Alexander the Great in Iranian Tradition,” in Zuwiyya (2011) 111–32. Williams, N. (2018) “The Moral Dimension of Military History in Diodoros of Sicily,” in Hau, Meeus, and Sheridan (2018) 519–39. Wirth, G. (1985) Philipp II. Geschichte Makedoniens 1. Stuttgart.

War Crimes?

575

Wirth, G. (1989) Der Kampfverband des Proteas: Spekulationen zu den Begleitumständen der Laufbahn Alexanders. Amsterdam. Wirth, G. (1993) Der Brand von Persepolis: Folgerungen zur Geschichte Alexanders des Großen. Amsterdam. Wirth, G. (1999) Hypereides, Lykurg und die αὐτονομία der Athener: Ein Versuch zum Verständnis einiger Reden der Alexanderzeit. Vienna. Wirth, G. (2020) “Philip II,” in LAM: 415–20. Worthington, I. (2008) Philip II of Macedon. Oxford. Worthington, I. (2012) Demosthenes of Athens and the Fall of Classical Greece. Oxford. Zimmermann, M. (ed) (2009) Extreme Formen von Gewalt in Bild und Text des Altertums. Munich. Zimmermann, M. (2013) Gewalt: Die dunkle Seite der Antike. Munich. Zuwiyya, Z. D. (ed) (2011) A Companion to Alexander Literature in the Middle Ages. Leiden.

Part 8 In Closing

∵

Chapter 22

Conclusion: “We Are the Champions”: the Underlying Reality of Ancient War Edward M. Anson This Companion to the Campaigns of Philip II and Alexander the Great has examined in detail the mechanics and societal impact of warfare in the Age of Philip and Alexander. This concluding chapter is not concerned with the how or the effect but rather the ultimate goals and purposes of conflict, and what was considered acceptable in the achievement of these goals. As Sabine Müller in this volume relates, when comparing the list of war crimes compiled by the United Nations with the activities of Philip II and Alexander III, “the Macedonian rulers would have been notorious offenders.” Victor Hanson has compared Alexander’s atrocities with those of Adolph Hitler.1 In antiquity there were also on occasion voices raised, though rarely in agreement with this modern commentary. As discussed by Müller in her chapter “War Crimes?,” the United Nations lists a whole series of activities that it declares to be criminal acts: “willful killing,” enslaving, rape, and torture, “extensive destruction and appropriation of property,” “unlawful deportation or transfer or unlawful confinement; taking of hostages.” Attacks on civilians and civilian property, and “intentionally directing attacks against buildings dedicated to religion, education, art, science or charitable purposes, historic monuments, hospitals and places where the sick and wounded are collected” join the list.2 If these declarations are applied to Philip and Alexander, the only clear avoidance of any of the war crimes in the United Nations’ listing is the one concerning “intentionally directing attacks against buildings dedicated to religion, education, art, science or charitable purposes, historic monuments, hospitals and places where the sick and wounded are collected,” and even here only the provision with respect to religious structures can be found to be a possible part of the Greek practical rules of war and is only claimed for Alexander. He was praised by Polybius for his protecting temples from the destruction he visited upon the city of Thebes:

1 Hanson (2004) 196. Cf. Van Wees (2010) 245, 256–57 for a more nuanced appraisal. 2 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (1998) Article 8.

© Edward M. Anson, 2025 | doi:10.1163/9789004715066_024

580

Anson

Though so indignant with the Thebans that he razed the city to the ground, yet he was so far from neglecting the reverence due to the gods when he captured the city, that he took the most anxious care that not even any unintentional offence should be committed against the temples and holy places in general. Even when he crossed to Asia to chastise the Persians for the outrages they had perpetrated against the Greeks, he strove to exact the punishment from men that their deeds deserved, but refrained from injuring anything consecrated to the gods, although it was in this respect that the Persians had offended most while in Greece. (Polyb. 5.10.6–8, LCL trans.) Lost lives and freedom were then with respect to this author acceptable and even celebrated natural consequences of human struggle, but impiety towards the gods was neither celebrated nor much practiced. However, it is claimed that Alexander’s father Philip destroyed many cities leaving nothing standing (Dem. 9.26; Just. Epit. 8.3.3, 5). At least in the case of Olynthus, the archaeological evidence supports this contention since nothing survived including the temples.3 Yet, religion was the underpinning of whatever might be claimed to constitute Greek rules of war. Peace treaties were sworn in the name of the gods, as in the oath sworn with respect to the so-called League of Corinth, “I swear by Zeus, Earth, Sun, Poseidon, Athena, Ares, all the gods and goddesses” (RO 76, line l.2–3). Sacred truces, holy months, these were all recognized and in the main observed. However, most of what constitutes criminal activities according to the Geneva Convention were countenanced by the Greek gods. Moreover, whether bound by oath or religious observance all such bonds could be broken for cause or by simple manipulation. An interesting example occurs in 388 BCE.4 Whenever the Spartans prepared to attack Argos the Argives proclaimed sacred months and that a sacred truce was therefore in place. The Spartan king Agesipolis had the Olympic oracle state that these declared months could be bypassed. While this oracle lacked the authority of the more important oracles, it was an oracle of Zeus. Subsequently, Agesipolis went to the Delphic Oracle and asked if Apollo agreed with his father with respect to an invasion of Argos during the so-called recently declared “sacred months.” Apollo said he did, and Sparta prepared to invade (Xen. Hell. 4.7.2–3). Both sides treated religion as a contrivance.

3 Cahill (2000) 499. 4 All ancient dates in this chapter are BCE unless indicated otherwise.

Conclusion: “ We Are the Champions ”

581

The multiplicity of gods made divine requirements often very ambiguous. As Socrates explains to Euthyphro, what the gods say and do are both inconsistent. Signs sent by the gods can produce multiple interpretations. Often it is the letter of the sign or the supposed rule and not the spirit that counts. According to the purported ancient Spartan practice, once a year the Spartans would declare war on their slaves (helots) and kill those thought to be troublemakers or who just appeared dangerous (Plut. Lyc. 28.1–4). To kill them in time of war apparently made murder acceptable. To do so in time of peace might be regarded as murder and bring down the retaliation of Tisiphone. This was abiding by the letter of the law, not, perhaps, the spirit, but that may be the point. Twice Alexander engaged in calendar manipulation to overcome limitations placed on him by custom or omen (Plut. Alex. 16.2, 25.1–3). Apparently, this practice was acceptable to the gods. The first time he won the battle and the second the calendrical manipulation proved unnecessary. Therefore, determining what was countenanced by the gods was not an easy task. This is especially the case with respect to any supposed rules of warfare. Warfare itself was hardly ever condemned by the gods or the Greeks themselves. While war is often in ancient Greek literature lamented as producing misery (e.g., Ar. Pax 435–455; Hdt. 1.87.4), the description of such horrors is designed to elicit pity from the reader not to serve as a condemnation of such practices.5 The Athenian Callias, as quoted by Xenophon (Hell. 6.3.6), reminds us that war is “divinely ordained.” No reader of the Iliad could ever believe otherwise. Plato (1.626a) declares, “peace, as the term is commonly employed, is nothing more than a name, the truth being that every state is, by a law of nature, engaged perpetually in an informal war with every other state.” While it is clear that Philip and Alexander were in violation of most of what today are claimed as the rules of war, were they also in violation of accepted ancient Greek customary guidelines with respect to war? While Thucydides does on occasion have various individuals refer to supposed customary practices of the Greeks with respect to war,6 he (1.122.1) also has the Corinthian ambassador proclaim that “war least of all conforms to fixed rules.” A listing of so-called Greek rules of war has been put forward by Josiah Ober, and such guidelines have been associated with what might be called the hoplite ethos. However, he believes these rules were products of the time before the Persian 5 D’Huys (1987) 250. 6 The Spartan king Archidamus (1.82.2) refers to the custom (νόμιμον) of not treating a party requesting arbitration as a wrong-doer (ἀδικοῦντα). There is also a statement regarding the customary treatment of a state that revolts during a war (3.59.1) and another regarding the customary treatment of religious institutions (4.97.2).

582

Anson

invasion of 480, and that their importance diminished subsequently.7 Victor Hanson agrees that the conventions of hoplite fighting limited the carnage.8 Ober lists twelve supposed rules of conduct in war,9 acknowledging that these so-called rules are nomoi, customary laws, rather than statutory requirements written in an “international” agreement.10 Roughly half are tied to religious prohibitions. 1. The state of war should be officially declared before commencing hostilities11 against an appropriate foe; sworn treaties and alliances should be regarded as binding. 2. Hostilities are sometimes inappropriate: sacred truces, especially those declared for the celebration of the Olympic games, should be observed. 3. Hostilities against certain persons and in certain places are inappropriate: the inviolability of sacred places and persons under protection of the gods, especially heralds and suppliants, should be respected. 4. Erecting a battlefield trophy indicates victory; such trophies should be respected. 5. After a battle it is right to return enemy dead when asked; to request the return of one’s dead is tantamount to admitting defeat.12 6. A battle is properly prefaced by a ritual challenge and acceptance of the challenge. 7. Prisoners of war should be offered ransom rather than being summarily executed or mutilated. 8. Punishment of surrendered opponents should be restrained. 9. War is an affair of warriors, and thus noncombatants should not be primary targets of attack. 7

Ober (1994, 25–26) sees this decline in the rules as the result of a broadening in the “social order.” With broadening of participation in war there was a corresponding decline in the application of these rules. According to Hanson (1995) 241, these were hoplite rules, which began to break down as a result of the Persian Wars and the growth of the Athenian Empire. I find the evidence for the existence of these norms far less compelling for any time period. 8 Hanson (1989) 223. 9 Ober (1994) 12–14. 10 Krentz (2002, 23–39) provides a subsequent detailed defense of Ober’s nomoi. 11 Pritchett (GSW 2.148) declares that it was the drawing up the phalanx for battle that served as the invitation. Victor Alonso Troncoso (2007, 219) has also concluded that raiding on land and sea by private individuals was often engaged in prior to a proclamation of war. 12 Yet, on many occasions this was not the practice, GSW 4.237–41.

Conclusion: “ We Are the Champions ”

583

10. Battles should be fought during the usual (summer) campaigning season. 11. Use of non-hoplite arms should be limited.13 12. Pursuit of defeated and retreating opponents should be limited in duration. Most of Ober’s list is not related to war crimes or humanitarian goals but rather to practical and ceremonial practices. Many of these so-called rules or norms may have simply been the result of circumstances and hence now interpreted as rules when in fact they were the practicalities dictated by the then realities of warfare, and not formally accepted customs.14 For example, #12, pursuit of a defeated enemy, would be limited by several factors. After an engagement both sides would be suffering from some measure of exhaustion with the defeated having the more urgent reason to flee than the victors to pursue (cf. Thuc. 5.73.4). Moreover, a disorderly pursuit could result in an enemy successfully counterattacking (cf. Xen. Hell. 7.5.13). The defeated would then be in full flight; the victors’ pursuit more cautious. Wars were usually fought in the summer because most warriors would have been farmers and the summer corresponded to “free” time in a farmer’s calendar,15 and the provision that war was limited to warriors was more the result of the respective warring parties’ desires to protect their civilian populations.16 Added to this is that given the elementary nature of siege warfare virtually up to the time of Dionysus of Syracuse, if not Alexander the Great, the protection of civilians or soldiers behind walls was effective. Anything resembling siege warfare of any kind was rare in the period when Ober’s rules were supposedly in effect. The retreat to the neighboring community or even the advantage of makeshift walls or fences or the occupation of high ground gave advantage. Sieges per se were sufficiently uncommon that except for Greeks themselves being besieged by foreign powers, such operations are

13

Supposedly there were also customary rules that could restrict the use of missile weapons or limit the number of combatants on each side, but these are not moral standards, and, in any case, it is widely challenged that these particular rules existed at all (Lanni 2008, 421 n. 3). 14 Buis (2018, 10) accepts that there were true rules of war but they were “inconsistent with some of the prevailing practices.” 15 See Krentz (2002) 27, who remarks that “no source turns this fact [Dem. 9. 48: Spartans like everyone else used to campaign only during the summer months] into a should, into a rule of proper conduct.” 16 As Krentz (2002, 27) rightly points out.

584

Anson

hardly mentioned before the rise of the Athenian Empire.17 This would also limit the risk faced by civilians. Yet, when on the rare occasion a city was taken by assault, the outcome could be disastrous for soldier and civilian alike. The eventual end of Troy, sans the horse, while mythical, was the usual result of a successful siege. What is clear is that a standard for the humane treatment of captured fighters and civilians cannot be found. A good example is found in the debate concerning the revolt of Mytilene in 428–427 from the empire of the Athenians. To punish the city the Athenians initially decided to kill the males and enslave the women and children, but the next day this decision was reversed (Thuc. 3.36–49). The change, however, was not the result of any humanitarian arguments, but rather only of self-interest, as the leading proponent, Diodotus, of the reversal of the previous decision proclaims, “Confess, therefore, that this is the wisest course, and without conceding too much either to pity or to indulgence, by neither of which motives do I any more than Cleon wish you to be influenced” (Thuc. 3.48.1). Polybius (5.11.3), although writing in the second century, still summarizes the truth. “The taking and demolishing an enemy’s forts, harbors, cities, men, ships and crops, and other such things, by which our enemy is weakened, and our own interests and tactics supported, are necessary acts according to the laws and rights of war.” While anything that became associated with the requirements of the gods could be claimed as a “rule,” as Sophocles has Antigone proclaim (Ant. ll. 454–456), no man can overrule the statutes of the gods. Such unanimously agreed to statutes are, however, few, often very limited, and on occasion contradictory or even ignored. While the beginnings of conflicts rarely conform to rigid ritual, the conclusion of wars usually do so adhere. Treaties and truces are made in the names of the gods and to break one without justification could bring on the wrath of the immortals.18 Ober’s #5, the exchange of the dead, was, however, a relatively common practice among Greek fighters from the time of Homer to that of Alexander. As Pausanias (1.32.5) relates, “in every case the divine law applies that a corpse should be laid under the earth.” For the dead to begin their new existence in the underworld proper rites needed to be performed.19 It was believed that the dead who lacked proper rites could remain in this world and haunt the living, as Patroclus did with respect to Achilles (Il. 23.65–109). It is not always the practice, nor is it clear 17 Trundle (2019); Seaman (2020). 18 On the sacred nature of these truces and treaties, see Alonso Troncoso (2007) 211. 19 This could be as simple as putting dirt on the corpse (as Antigone did for Polynices [Soph. Ant. 255–259]).

Conclusion: “ We Are the Champions ”

585

that the gods as a whole demand it. Divine wrath has always been associated with Achilles’ treatment of Hector’s dead body. Achilles’ treatment of Hector’s body angered Zeus, and he was forced to hand his dead rival over for proper burial. While many of the gods protested Achilles’ treatment of Hector’s body, maltreatment of corpses was not unknown, with several examples present in the Iliad. Patroclus urges his fellows to capture the body of the dead Sarpedon and “mutilate and shame him” (Hom. Il. 16.560), and Hector proclaims to the dying Patroclus that he will give his dead body to be consumed by vultures (Hom. Il 16. 836–837). It further needs to be noted that not all of the gods were concerned about Achilles’ treatment of Hector. Hera, Athena, and Poseidon apparently had no such qualms (Hom. Il. 24.24–31).20 Nor were such departures from honoring the enemy dead found only in the Iliad. Pausanias (9.32.9) reports that after Lysander’s victory at Aegospotami that commander executed the Athenian commander and 4,000 other Athenian prisoners and then “refused them burial afterwards.” Pausanias does, however, comment on what a breach in customary practice he finds Lysander’s actions. “A thing which even the Persians who landed at Marathon received from the Athenians, and the Lacedaemonians themselves who fell at Thermopylae received from King Xerxes.” While this practice would seem to set a limit on the actual fighting, it occurred when whatever pursuit undertaken had ended and when the victors decided they had achieved their goals. In the earlier period, any lack of pursuit was more likely the result of the difficulty of heavily armed hoplites engaging in a pursuit. With the presence of light-armed fighters in the Battle of Lechaeum, the slaughter continued with the Spartan survivors taking to flight. No quarter was given (Xen. Hell. 4.5.12–18). Despite the ambiguity of divine requirements, before beginning a war, or a battle, or practically any action, in some fashion the gods would be consulted. Onasander (Strat. 10.25–26), in his first-century CE manual on the duties of a general, states, “The general should neither lead his army on a journey, nor marshal it for battle, without first making a sacrifice; in fact, official sacrificers and diviners should accompany him. It is best that the general himself be able to read the omens intelligently; it is very easy to learn in a brief time, and thereby become a good counsellor to himself. He should not begin any undertaking until the omens are favorable …” The will of the gods would ostensibly 20 It is also clear that the wishes of the gods even the greatest of them might be ignored but only at one’s peril. While Achilles accepts Zeus’ demand that the body of Hector be released (Hom. Il. 24. 138–140), when Priam insists on leaving with his dead son, Achilles threatens to kill him and “break the laws of Zeus” (Hom. Il. 24. 555–570).

586

Anson

determine the course of action. According to our sources, it was the Thebans’ previous crimes and their flaunting the omens given by the gods that ultimately led to their destruction at the hands of Alexander (Diod. Sic. 17.10.2–5; Arr. Anab. 1.9.7–8;21 cf. Aeschin. 3.133).22 It is claimed that in Alexander’s war the gods were with the Macedonians and against the Persians from the very beginning (Curt. 5.9.4). His actions, then, must have then received the approval of the gods. Bessus, the murderer of Darius and the proclaimed new king of Persia, supposedly complained that the gods favored Alexander even to the point that Alexander’s enemies helped him (Curt. 7.5.25–26).23 But what determined the gods’ approval was seldom tied to any standard of ethical conduct. If it were, then the gods’ ostensible support for heroes from Achilles to Alexander would be difficult to explain. Garlan’s claim that “it was essential to have the right on one’s side”24 by and large relates to issues of impiety, including the violation of treaties and truces which were typically confirmed in the names of the gods. While Plato (Resp. 5.470c) and Aristotle (Pol. 1.1256b 25) believe war was necessary between Greeks and “barbarians” and factionalism among the Greeks was unfortunate, both still proclaim the necessity of war to achieve particular societal goals. In the Greek world there existed a wide range of justifications for war. Plato (Resp. 373d; cf. Prot. 354b; Arist. Pol. 1.1256b15) argues that warfare may be necessary to acquire what a society needs from others (cf. Hdt. 5.49; Thuc. 2.96.3, 98.3). Xenophon even has a Spartan commander describe plundering as honorable.25 Revenge was also a just cause for war, as it was for violence in general,26 as J. E. Lendon has emphasized.27 In the creation of the Delian

21

22 23 24 25

26 27

While it is clear that our narrative sources for Alexander in particular have passed through a Roman filter and thus may reflect in this case Roman nomoi rather than Greek, there do not in the main appear to be any great differences, at least with respect to Philip’s and Alexander’s actions while on campaign. While ultimately it was Alexander’s allies who voted to destroy the city, Alexander was clearly in a position to stop it if he had wished (Diod. Sic. 17. 14. 1–3). Bessus, however, believes that the gods are against him because he murdered Darius (Curt. 7. 5. 25). Garlan (1975) 47. Xen. Hell. 5.1.17, “For what greater gladness can there be than to have to flattered no one in the world, Greek or barbarian, for the sake of pay, but to be able to provide supplies for oneself, and what is more, from the most honourable source? For be well assured that abundance gained in war from the enemy yields not merely sustenance, but at the same time fair fame among all men” (LCL trans.). Gordon Fiala (2008) argues that the concept of a just war is a “moral illusion,” but then the Greek definition apparently does not rely on morality in the modern sense. Lendon (2009) 1–30.

Conclusion: “ We Are the Champions ”

587

League, Thucydides (1.96.1) reports that “their professed object was to retaliate for their sufferings by ravaging the king’s country,” and both Philip and Alexander proclaimed that their proposed invasion of the Persian Empire was in retaliation for the Persian invasion of Greece in 480–479.28 Significantly, Aristotle (Pol. 1255a, 1333b37) proclaims that war is essential for the correct ordering of society, to differentiate between those who by nature are masters, and those who are slaves.29 He does, however, suggest that enslaving prisoners of war may not be just in and of itself. He questions such enslavement of Greeks, who may not have deserved to be slaves,30 but, of course, it is the proper state always for barbarians (1255a 24–31). Of course Alexander’s career was spent conquering non-Greeks. Massacres of military and civilian populations are condemned by the Geneva Convention and discouraged in Ober’s supposed rules. Are massacres, then, routinely condemned in the Greek tradition? Are Philip and Alexander soundly criticized for theirs? Plutarch states that Alexander stained his military career by his massacre of a large group of Indian mercenaries in the aftermath of his siege of Massaga and laments the retribution visited on the descendants of the sacrilegious Milesians transferred East by Xerxes (Mor. 557B). The former, as will be seen, was explained and the latter often proclaimed untrue, but likely both factual. In the former, The best fighters among the Indians, however, were mercenaries, and they used to go about to the different cities and defend them sturdily, and wrought much harm to Alexander’s cause. Therefore, after he had made a truce with them in a certain city and allowed them to depart, he fell upon them as they marched and slew them all. And this act adheres like a stain to his military career; in all other instances he waged war according to usage and like a king. (Plut. Alex. 59.3–4, LCL trans.) Here, since elsewhere Alexander’s massacres are seldom criticized, the likely rebuke comes from the king violating his word. As Brian Bosworth has 28 Squillace (2004, 2010); see also Finn in this volume. 29 Isocrates (12.163; cf. 4.187) states: “that war is the most necessary and the most righteous which we wage in alliance with the Hellenes against the barbarians, who are by nature our foes and are eternally plotting against us.” Most of the comments in the sources regarding homonoia relate, as with Isocrates with the need for Greeks to treat one another as brothers, or even more frequently with the need for such humanity within the individual city-states where often, paradoxically, the ferocity of conflict surpassed that in the wars between states (cf. Thuc. 3.82.4–6; Xen Mem. 4.4.16). 30 Socrates notes that Daedalus became a slave even though not deserving of that status (Xen. Mem. 5.2.33).

588

Anson

suggested, the truthfulness of kings was a “commonplace,” a trope, a cliché, in Hellenistic and Roman literature.31 Arrian (Anab. 1.1.2), in his selection of Ptolemy as one of his two main sources for his Anabasis, states that this lieutenant of Alexander’s was an eyewitness and as a king “mendacity would have been more dishonorable for him than for anyone else.” That for a king being true to one’s word was important is clear from the attempts both ancient and, interestingly enough, modern to explain away Alexander’s apparent going back on his word. Arrian (Anab. 4.27.2–4) adds to Plutarch’s account that these mercenaries surrendered and were to join Alexander’s forces. Arrian further adds that Alexander was impressed by their bravery, but they planned to desert, and this is what sparked Alexander’s reaction (Anab. 4.27.4). Polyaenus and Diodorus Siculus have Alexander defend his action, stating that he only gave them permission to leave the city in peace and that “not a word was mentioned in the treaty of any further movement” (Polyaenus, Strat. 4.3.20), nor was there a guarantee given that “they would be friends of Macedonians forever” (Diod. Sic. 17.84.2). W. W. Tarn, the twentieth-century Alexander historian, believes the whole episode was a “horrible mistake perhaps due to defective interpreting and to Alexander’s growing impatience.”32 Tarn further states that if they were really planning to desert, Alexander was in his rights to do what he did, although Tarn adds that maybe only killing the ring leaders would have been sufficient. What appears in Plutarch and in Tarn for that matter with respect to this incident is that the possible true crime here is that Alexander violated his word. In answer to the original question, massacres per se are not condemned, nor are the various methods used to accomplish the act. Captives were shot down by javelins or arrows, or had their throats slit, or were stoned to death, strangled, crucified, or drowned.33 There were, however, apparently some limitations, at least in the minds of some commentators. After Alexander’s capture at Persepolis, Diodorus Siculus reports: The Macedonians raced into it slaughtering all the men whom they met and plundering the residences; … The Macedonians gave themselves up to this orgy of plunder for a whole day and still could not satisfy their boundless greed for more. Such was their exceeding lust for loot withal that they fought with each other and killed many of their fellows who 31 Bosworth (1980) 43. It should be pointed out that lying could also be seen as a clever stratagem (Polyaenus, Strat. 4.1.4, 5, 12, 17). 32 Tarn (1948, 89) states that Alexander near the end of his campaign knew no moral constraints on his conduct; cf. Hamilton (1969) 162; Bosworth (1996) 29. 33 GSW 5.205–206.

Conclusion: “ We Are the Champions ”

589

had appropriated a greater portion of it. The richest of the finds some cut through with their swords so that each might have his own part. Some cut off the hands of those who were grasping at disputed property, being driven mad by their passions. They dragged off women, clothes and all, converting their captivity into slavery. (17.70.1–6, LCL trans.) Thucydides describes a similar horror in the capture of the Boeotian town of Mycalessus in 413 by the Thracians. Thucydides reports that after the town’s capture, The Thracians bursting into Mycalessus sacked the houses and temples, and butchered the inhabitants, sparing neither youth nor age, but killing all they fell in with, one after the other, children and women, and even beasts of burden, and whatever other living creatures they saw; the Thracian race, like the bloodiest of the barbarians, being ever most so when it has nothing to fear. (7.29.4–5, LCL trans.) To put both quotations in context, barbarians commit their atrocities in an out-of-control frenzy, but civilized Greeks do theirs with a cool precision. “The Greek law of war did not encompass humanitarian ideals.”34 About the closest to a statement embodying what would conform to Geneva conventional language regarding humane treatment can be found in Diodorus Siculus (30.18.2) and dates from the second half of the first century. “For though all warfare is an exception to humane standards of law and justice, even so it has certain quasi-laws of its own: a truce, for example, may not be broken; heralds must not be put to death; a man who has placed himself under the protection of a superior opponent may not be visited with punishment or vengeance.” While the protection of heralds was generally acknowledged, Ducrey accurately states that from his analysis of the evidence “there was no fixed convention” for dealing with prisoners.35 Certainly, neither Philip nor Alexander was above violating the protection of prisoners.36 Those who survived the Battle of Crocus Field were drowned (Diod. Sic. 16.35.4–6, 61.2; Paus. 10.2.5) and Alexander sent the surviving Greek mercenaries after his victory at the Granicus to hard labor in Macedonia (Arr. Anab. 1.16.6) and crucified all the male survivors of the siege of Tyre (Diod. Sic. 17.46.4). Diodorus generally does decry acts of extreme torture, 34 Lanni (2008) 470. 35 Ducrey (1993, 242–43) suggests there are a limited number of customs shaped by the concept of excess. See also in great detail on the treatment of prisoners, Ducrey (1999). 36 Clearly shown in the chapters by Carney and Müller.

590

Anson

as with Phyton (14.112) and with Diegylis (33, 14–15), but while highly critical of Olympias (19.11.3–7), Alexander’s mother, for her treatment of Eurydice and Philip III, such direct criticism does not appear with respect to Alexander. This may result, however, from the critical lacunae in Diodorus’ text. However, while Curtius (4.6.29) describes the torture of Betis after Alexander’s capture of Gaza, Diodorus simply states that Alexander set the affairs of Gaza in order (Diod. Sic. 17.49.1; cf. Arr. Anab. 2.27.7). The case of the Branchidae is criticized by others, although not so much for the cruelty of the action per se, but rather because the punishment was not visited on the actual perpetrators but rather on their descendants (Curt. 7.5.31–35; Strabo 17.1.43; Plut. Mor. 557B). This section of Diodorus is lost and the “contents” simply notes that they were slain as traitors. This may again be a product of what was considered barbaric rather than simply cruel. The torture of Bessus was certainly so regarded. Diodorus (17.83.9) reports that Alexander turned “Bessus over to Darius’ brother and his other relatives for punishment. They inflicted upon him every humiliation and abuse, and cutting his body up into little pieces they scattered them abroad.”37 While Diodorus does not directly criticize this excess, the description is followed by a lacuna in which such a criticism may have been posited. Curtius (7.6.15) does comment on Alexander’s “savage cruelty” in this regard. Victors also could be magnanimous. Alexander left members of the conquered elite in positions of authority. As I have argued in chapter three, this was part of Alexander’s strategy to maintain control of particular conquered territories, a version of the carrot and the stick approach. Surrender without a fight and your life and status would be preserved; resist and die. The key here, however, is that it was accepted that it was the victor’s choice to be generous or not. Most modern discussions of war crimes highlight violence against the civilian population in times of conflict. In antiquity, such violence was standard.38 One thinks of Athens’ treatment of Melos (Thuc. 5.116.4) or the aftermath of Philip II of Macedonia’s destruction of Potidaea (Diod. Sic. 16.8.5) and Olynthus (Diod. Sic. 16.53.3), or Alexander’s actions at Thebes (Arr. Anab. 1.9.9; Diod. Sic. 17.14.4),39 Gaza (Arr. Anab. 2.27.7), and Tyre (Arr. Anab. 2.24.5; Curt. 4.4.17; 37

Both Plutarch (Alex. 43.3) and Curtius (7.5.40–41) describe in detail the brutal treatment of Bessus. 38 Richardson (2015) 31. 39 It is to be noted that the destruction was the desire of Alexander’s Greek allies. These Greeks wished the destruction of the city and the enslavement of the population. Alexander, as explained in chapter 3, had officially given them the decision of what would become of Thebes and the Thebans. This was a decision he could have countermanded but he did not.

Conclusion: “ We Are the Champions ”

591

Diod. Sic. 17.46.4).40 At Melos, “[the Athenians] put to death all the grown men whom they took and sold the women and children for slaves” (Thuc. 5.116.3–4).41 Olynthus suffered much the same at the hands of the Macedonian king. “After plundering [the city] and enslaving the inhabitants he sold both men and property as booty.” There is the famous line put in the mouth of one of the Athenian ambassadors at Melos by Thucydides after the Melians speak of justice. “The standard of justice depends on the equality of power to compel that the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must” (5.89).42 The Thebans and Corinthians after the surrender of Athens at the conclusion of the Peloponnesian War urged that “the Athenians should be destroyed.” They were spared by the Spartans (Xen. Hell. 2.2.19). While the Spartan generosity was according to Xenophon due to Athens’ heroic past, the salvation in fact was due to Spartan concerns about creating a vacuum in central Greece that would be filled by Thebes. What is to be noted is that such actions as the destruction of cities and the killing or enslavement of civilian populations were not condemned as inhumane. It was common practice. Pritchett has nine pages of such examples dating from the sixth to the second century.43 While Demosthenes accuses Philip of atrocities against Potidaea and Olynthus, these criticisms are not generalized, but are atrocities because of their effect on Athens (Dem. 18.69–70; 19.305–306; 23.108–109). Slavery after all was a recognized institution in the ancient world. Aristotle (Pol. 1.2.16.1255A) includes the conquered as the property of the conqueror to do with as the victor wishes, and Xenophon (Cyr. 7.5.73) has Cyrus proclaim, “It is a custom established for all time among all people that when a city is taken in war, the persons and the property of the inhabitants belong to the captors.”44 In Xenophon’s Memorabilia, Socrates makes it plain that in the popular mind at least, conquering hostile cities, enslaving the inhabitants, and plundering their possessions are just acts (Xen. Mem. 4.2.15, 29). When Philip or Alexander proclaimed their right to possession of territory “as spear-won land” ([Dem.] 40 “The king sold the women and children into slavery and crucified all the men of military age. These were not less than two thousand. Although most of the non-combatants had been removed to Carthage, those who remained to become captives were found to be more than thirteen thousand” (Diod. Sic. 17.46.4). Other examples, Arr. Anab. 4.2.4–3.4; Curt. 7.6.16–23. 41 Nor were the Melians the only people to be treated in this way by the Athenians (Thuc. 5.3.4, 32.1, Xen. Hell. 3.2.3). 42 Thucydides has an Athenian envoy to the Spartans declare that “it has always been the law that the weaker should be subject to the stronger” (1.76.2). 43 GSW 5.226–34. 44 See also Pl. Resp. 5. 468A and Leg. 626B.

592

Anson

7.28; Dem. 12.22; Diod. Sic. 17.17.2; Just. Epit. 11.5.10), they were not simply speaking of the land but also all that was contained therein, the structures and most especially the people. While the horrors experienced by defeated soldiers and civilian men were appalling, they pale in comparison to what awaited women and children in the throes of enemy victory. Sexual exploitation and a lack of sexual agency were distinctive features of Greek and Roman slavery. One has only to read Andromache’s lament in Homer’s Iliad (24.710–745) or in Euripides’ Trojan Women (740–779) to begin to understand their fate. Beth Carney and Sabine Müller in this volume describe in detail what these horrors entailed. There was a general callous disregard for women and children during war. While Alexander may appear the near perfect gentleman with respect to Persian noble women, he certainly, as seen, was not above killing women and children. In fact, his callousness with respect them in general has caused Donald Engels to suggest that in Gedrosia Alexander deliberately set up his camp with the camp followers, the women and children, occupying a dry riverbed during the rainy season and the soldiers on higher ground so that a sudden storm and flood eliminated these non-combatants.45 While this is highly speculative, it would not be out of character. Of course, with respect to slavery, as opposed to death, there was always the chance of liberation. While the selling of men, women, and children taken prisoner in a captured community was a generally accepted custom, perhaps it was somewhat softened by another customary activity, the acceptance of ransom for the freedom of captives (Hdt. 5.77.3; Thuc. 3.70.1; 7.83.2–3; Demad. 1.9; Dem. 5.5; 8.70; 12.3; 19.40; Arist. Eth. Eud. 5.7.1; Just. 7.6.6; 9.4.4; 11.12.1; 12.2.15; Diod. Sic. 17.39.1; Curt. 7.9.18).46 This seeming measure of humaneness was simply the product of greed, not some exercise of pity. Tarn proclaimed, “No public man throughout Greek history is, I think, recorded to have shown pity, it was unmanly.”47 Torture was regularly practiced as well.48 Prisoners of war were frequently tortured out of hatred, as punishment for resisting, or to obtain information (Arr. Anab. 3.30.5; Aeschin. 3.224; Xen. Hell. 2.1.31–32; Diod. Sic. 13.19.4; 14.36.3; 15.58.2; 16.16.3, 31.4). Nor in the Greek tradition is there any prohibition against 45 Engels (1978) 13 n. 8. 46 GSW 5.245–97. However, as Hunt (2021, 284) points out, if the entire population is enslaved who is available to pay the ransom? 47 Tarn (1950) 65–66. 48 Slaves were routinely tortured in legal proceedings (Antiph. 2.2.7; Aeschin. 2.126; Dem. 27.50, 30.37; Lyc. 1.28), but citizens were considered exempt from torture (cf. Andoc. 1.43).

Conclusion: “ We Are the Champions ”

593

what is called in modern parlance “terrorism.” As defined in Merriam-Webster, terrorism is “the unlawful use or threat of violence especially against the state or the public as a politically motivated means of attack or coercion.” The presence of “unlawful” is disturbing. Alexander’s actions during his Indus Valley campaign have been described as a campaign of outright terrorism.49 War in the final analysis, whatever else it is, is killing. A general understanding with respect to war is that, if you kill enough of the enemy, you win by default. General George S. Patton is reported to have said, “No dumb bastard ever won a war by going out and dying for his country. He won it by making some other dumb bastard die for his country.”50 For some, killing is key to victory. Body counts are routinely used as a measure of success and failure in both ancient and modern warfare, and as Sabine Müller has shown were often exaggerated in antiquity. Of course, for the combatants, killing is the inescapable meaning of war. “Casualties [are] part of any conflict.”51 Catherine Rubincam has identified forty-nine separate casualty reports in Thucydides.52 Casualty lists were common in antiquity, not just in Thucydides or only with respect to Athens. While most of the surviving evidence does relate to the Athenians (cf. Paus. 1.29),53 the practice was honored throughout the Greek world.54 War through attrition as a matter of course would see casualty figures as strong indicators of success or failure. The then United States Defense Secretary Robert McNamara explained in his memoir that body counts were part of a strategy in the Vietnam War to reach “a so-called crossover point, at which Vietcong and North Vietnamese casualties would be greater than they could sustain.”55 Lawrence Kaplan writing in The New Republic in 2011, quoting a military officer at the White House on the strategy in Afghanistan, suggests the same. “Kill enough Taliban, create enough space for the [Afghan National Army] to pick up the slack, and leave.”56 Apparently, this was easier to envisage than to achieve. Brian Bosworth declares that in Alexander’s campaign against the Malli the “objective was to kill as many of the Malli as was physically possible.”57 Perhaps the worst example of the principle of war by attrition may be seen in the Battle of Verdun in 1916, where 750,000 men were killed or wounded. Here the almost 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

Bosworth (1996) 142–51. On terrorism and state terrorism, see Brice (2016) 12–18. G. S. Patton, as quoted in Brighton (2009) 262–65. Fischhoff, Atran, and Fischhoff (2007) 1–19. Rubincam (1991) 181–98. GSW 4.139–45. GSW 140–45. McNamara (1996) 238. https://newrepublic.com/article/84532/body-count-vietnam-afghanistan-iraq. Bosworth (1996) 142; see also chapter 3 in this volume.

594

Anson

ten-month long battle was initiated by the Germans for the sole purpose of killing Frenchmen. The Germans calculated that they would kill more French soldiers than the latter would kill Germans.58 In reality, French and German soldiers died or were wounded in approximately equal numbers. Casualty figures typically include both those of the victors and also those of the defeated. Of course, there are practical reasons for keeping count. It is declared that “the parties must do it [body counts] both to monitor the conflict’s progress and to give it meaning.”59 A military commander clearly needs to know the extent of his losses in detail in order to maintain the adequacy of the force. An accurate record is also kept for the awarding of benefits and distinctions to the participants and/or their dependents, such as the upbringing and the equipping of orphaned sons at public expense, as in Athens (Thuc. 2.46.1; Isoc. 8.82.1; Aesch. 3.154), and records of Macedonian casualties were kept for the benefit of the parents and the children of those who fell. After the battle at the river Granicus, such individuals were exempted from paying certain taxes and carrying out certain services (Arr. Anab. 1.16.5).60 As a modern commentator has stated, “A named victim is a recognized victim, a remembered life, witness to what is lost. Dignifying and memorializing those lost recognizes the right of every person to be remembered.”61 Moreover, simple metrics can be explained to the public and the combatants. It is difficult to calculate the success or failure of other possible metrics which may not appear until long after the events. As a result, counting the dead as a means for evaluating warfare has been and remains strong. This is true whether it is proclaimed to be necessary to bring home the true brutality of war,62 or seen as stated above as a proper measure of success. However sensible it may seem as a tool to measure success or failure, body counts strip away the veneer of true nobility or dignity of purpose. Perhaps the most obvious example of the importance of body count as a means of measuring success in ancient warfare comes not from the Greeks, but rather from the Romans. The Romans used massive violence as a means to accomplish a great many political goals.63 The importance of body counts is seen in the requirements for a Roman triumph 58 Bruce (1998) 9–10. 59 Fischhoff, Atran, and Fischhoff (2007) 1–19. 60 See Hammond (1989) 56–68 for the accuracy of Macedonian casualty figures for Alexander’s campaign. 61 Hamourtziadou (2017) 70. 62 Margot Norris (1991, 223–45) declares that listing the wounded and dead is the “real-making sign of warfare.” This author believes that without this material, the result is increasing acceptability of war. 63 See most recently Baker (2021).

Conclusion: “ We Are the Champions ”

595

or other honor resulting from the defeat of an enemy. Orosius’ account (5.4.7) of the triumph of Appius Claudius Pulcher and Valerius Maximus’ chapter de iure triumphi (2.8.1) report that a triumph was awarded if a minimum of 5,000 of the enemy were killed. Several writers report that to be acclaimed imperator a commander had to have achieved victory with the death with more than 6,000 enemy (Diod. Sic. 36.14; cf. Cass. Dio 37.40.2). Later the requirement was apparently for 10,000 (App. B Civ. 2.44.177). Lesser honors were given for enemy deaths of 1,000 to 2,000 (Cic. Phil. 14. 2; App. B Civ. 2.44.177). With respect to the importance of immortalizing the dead, obtaining the bodies of the dead became and remains a solemn obligation of the commander. The Athenians were victorious in the Battle of Solygeia, but while in the process of acquiring the bodies of their dead the Athenians were interrupted by what appeared to be enemy reinforcements. The Athenians left hurriedly and, in the process, overlooked two of their dead. They were then forced to return and beg those they had defeated for the two bodies that remained (Thuc. 4.42–44). Survivors were insistent on having their family members’ bodies returned for proper burial. The classic example concerns the aftermath of the Athenian victory at Arginusae during the Peloponnesian War. When the generals failed to rescue the living or to obtain the bodies of the dead, they were charged before the Athenian assembly and condemned to death (Xen. Hell. 7.34). Honoring the dead has also been a way to create a legacy to be protected by further deaths and maimings. The Pre-Socratic philosopher Heraclitus (B24) states, “gods and men honor those who are killed in battle.” As noted by Ober, part of the ritual associated with the aftermath of battle was to allow the defeated to collect their dead and for the victors to raise a monument to their dead and offer a sacrifice thanking the gods for the victory.64 Philip II followed this exact pattern after his success at Chaeronea (Diod. Sic. 16.86.6), and Alexander saw to the burial of his dead and on occasion buried his enemies as well, but the formal request of the losers and the appropriate disposal of their dead is not in this case recorded (Arr. Anab. 1.16.5–6;65 2.12.1;66 4.6.5; Diod. Sic. 17.46.6). The Athenian state in its annual public funeral for those killed in war, as highlighted in Pericles’ funeral oration as recorded by Thucydides (1.22.1), speaks of the dead in the first year of the Peloponnesian War as following the 64 See GSW 4.153–241. 65 In this case it was Alexander who saw to the burial of the Persian commanders and Greek mercenaries killed in the fighting (Arr. Anab. 1.16.6). There is no statement as to the disposal of other Persian bodies. 66 Apparently, here only the victorious dead were given proper rites.

596

Anson

noble tradition of those who brought the Athenian state to its current prominence (Thuc. 2.36). “So and such they were, these men, worthy of their city. We who remain behind may hope to be spared their fate but must resolve to keep the same daring spirit against the foe” (Thuc. 2.43.1). The ancient Athenian tradition of the public burial served not only as testimony to the sacrifice of those who fought and died, but also as an incentive for others to follow in their path (Thuc. 2.42–46, esp. 2.43). Xenophon (Hell. 2.4.17) remarks, “Happy, indeed, are those of us who shall win the victory and live to behold the gladdest day of all! And happy also, he who is slain; for no one, however rich he may be, will gain a monument so glorious.” Casualty figures also were a measure of successful vengeance. Where vengeance appears most evident is in the fighting within states. Apparently, indiscriminate butchery was barbaric in war, but relatively common in civil strife (Xen. Hell. 5.4.12; Thuc. 3.81.5; 4.48; Isoc. 5.52; Diod. Sic. 15.57.3–58.4; Xen. Hell. 4.4.3). The anger and ferocity shown in the struggles between different political groups that existed in the individual city-states transcended the savagery of the struggle between states. When examining the long-standing rivalries in the Greek world the role of internal political antagonism and the desire for gain at another’s expense appear more important than even in the battles with rival states. The level of hatred among those of common religious practices, language, and nationality is incredible in its intensity. While our sources continually speak of the divisions of democrats and oligarchs as the source of this antagonism, this is obviously far more complicated than arguments over the extent of the franchise. The hatred is very personal. Thucydides attributes it to human nature under duress. Reckless audacity came to be considered the courage of a loyal ally; prudent hesitation, specious cowardice; moderation was held to be a cloak for unmanliness; ability to see all sides of a question but inaptness to act on any. Frantic violence became the attribute of manliness; cautious plotting, a justifiable means of self-defence.67 The advocate of extreme measures was always trustworthy; his opponent a man to be suspected. To succeed in a plot was to have a shrewd head, to divine a plot a still shrewder; but to try to provide against having to do either was to break up your party and to be afraid of your adversaries. In fine, to forestall an intending criminal, or to suggest the idea of a crime where it was wanting, was equally commended, until even blood became a weaker tie 67 Self-defense was most often the accepted nomos for a “just war.” See Buis (2018) 134–36.

Conclusion: “ We Are the Champions ”

597

than party, from the superior readiness of those united by the latter to dare everything without reserve; for such associations had not in view the blessings derivable from established institutions but were formed by ambition for their overthrow; and the confidence of their members in each other rested less on any religious sanction than upon complicity in crime. (3.82.4–6, LCL trans.) While Thucydides is describing a city during time of war, even Achilles’ shield’s depiction of the city at peace includes a scene of two men arguing over the “blood-price” of a slain man (Hom. Il. 18.498–99). However, Thucydides’ description of civic hatred is later echoed by Isocrates (6.67): “They feel such distrust and such hatred of one another that they fear their fellow citizens more than the enemy.” Hatred, whatever its source, makes killing very personal and an expression of that hatred, which often erupts into violence, whether in the relations between or within Greek communities. When the Thebans who had encouraged the Spartan occupation of the Cadmea were overthrown and killed in 379, their children were seized and killed as well (Xen. Hell. 4.4.12). If success in war or in civil strife was determined by the extent of killing, enslavement, and physical destruction,68 then the numbering of enemy dead was an important measure of success and superiority, and the capture and sale of the defeated was another. War was a citizen’s obligation (Pl. Leg. 8.839a; Resp. 3.415d). Defeat was often accompanied by a fair measure of degradation and humiliation. The ancient Persians notoriously treated the defeated often to horrid and humiliating deaths. The impaling of Babylonian rebels (Hdt. 3.159.1), and the mutilation of other offenders were common (Xen. Anab. 1.9.13). The humiliation could be simply symbolic. The Samnites, after their victory in the Battle of Caudine Forks in 321, sent the Romans “under the yoke” as a form of humiliating them in defeat (Liv. 9.4.3). A Roman triumph contained a parade in which captives from the war would march through the street in chains and be jeered at by the Roman crowds. Afterwards, they might be executed or sold as slaves.69 The ancient Greeks also set great store by being able not just to declare victory, but to demonstrate victory and to show the superiority of the 68 “In the Mediterranean from antiquity through the Byzantine era, the aggressors strive to gain the upper hand through the first step of ‘men killing, and men being killed,’ be it through battle, siege, ambush, slaughter, or some combination of these lethal practices. When they kill enough of their adult male opposition to prevail, they then capture and andrapodize survivors from among the defeated populace” (Gaca 2010, 121). 69 For a most evocative description of a triumph from the prisoners’ point of view, see Beard (2007) 107–42.

598

Anson

victor over the conquered. While stripping the armor from the dead was a common practice seemingly sanctioned by the gods, it was hardly an honoring of the dead. Victory was often accompanied by a show of humiliation for the defeated. No honorable death on the battlefield or simple summary execution, but humiliating death by torture or defilement. The Athenian Assembly passed a decree that, if victorious in the Battle of Aegospotami, they would cut off the right hand of all prisoners (Xen. Hell. 2.1.31). In addition, those so treated were not afforded burial rights. Whether by throwing off precipices or drowning (Xen. Hell. 2.1.32), crucifixion, or other means, on occasion following the torture of the victim, the design was to emasculate and dishonor the defeated.70 Controlling the field of battle after its conclusion was one very important sign of victory and does appear remarkably civilized. Those forces in control set up a trophy and the defeated sought permission to acquire their dead. This practice in actuality masks a reality that is hardly so genteel. Battlefield success not only led to widespread bloodshed on the battlefield and slavery for civilian and military populations, but also the slaughter of those left helpless by wounds (cf. Thuc. 4.38.5, 57.4; 7.75.3). The victorious soldiers stripped the dead of their panoplies, leaving virtually nude bodies on the field and dividing the spoils. “There was no convention requiring fighters to show mercy to enemy combatants defeated in battle. This was true even if they attempted to surrender. The victor had the option of killing the enemy soldiers on the spot, enslaving them, or exchanging them for ransom.”71 Pritchett lists sixty-five massacres recorded by our literary sources during the period from the sixth century to 146.72 In the Iliad (10.446–464), Dolon, captured by Odysseus and Diomedes, pleads for his life, which is taken anyway, and the victim’s weapons are offered as a tribute to Athena, who is pleased. According to Xenophon (Cyr. 7.5.73), the victor had absolute control over the vanquished. The healthy or slightly wounded were typically enslaved or ransomed. Those who were more severely wounded and not thought worthy of ransoming or enslavement likely did not long survive their defeat.73 If your metrics of victory include death and enslavement, then the purpose of victory can be the annihilation of the enemy. What would have limited the scope of destruction in the period was the limits on the technology of war at that time, not any humane goals. 70

For a discussion of the ubiquity of humiliation as a tool in the Greeks politics in general, see Lateiner (2017) 31–66. 71 GSW 5.203; Lanni (2008) 480. 72 GSW 5.218–19. 73 The fear expressed by the wounded Athenians when the Athenian army retreated from Syracuse and had to abandon them to the following Syracusans suggests that their fate was death (Thuc. 7.75.3–4).

Conclusion: “ We Are the Champions ”

599

The generally accepted word on warfare was set by Homer. Nothing that followed drifted far from that encomium on war, as Heraclitus proclaimed, being the “king of all.” In the pantheon of gods Ares was the god of war and Zeus, Athena, Hera, Poseidon, Apollo, Artemis regularly engaged in war. There were other deities associated with warfare. There were gods of strife,74 battle, the battle cry, courage and strength in battle pursuit, the din of battle, victory, and terror. There were deities that were specifically associated with soldiers. There were few gods associated with peace or mercy. Eirene was a goddess of peace and Eleos the god of mercy.75 It is noteworthy that Eirene was not deified or given cult by the Athenians until 375/374.76 Peace was often the professed goal, as seen in the many treaties ending hostilities, but these were often the means to a later end and were brought on by stalemate or other threats or desires, or simply exhaustion. Indeed, Thucydides states: “That war is an evil is a proposition so familiar to everyone that it would be tedious to develop it. No one is forced to engage in it by ignorance, or kept out of it by fear, if he fancies there is anything to be gained by it. To the former the gain appears greater than the danger, while the latter would rather stand the risk than put up with any immediate sacrifice” (4.59.2, LCL trans.). The purpose here of keeping score by counting the dead, then, appears necessary to echo the glory of victory. It was, however, but one part of the honors that accrued to the victorious. When Philip or Alexander proclaimed their right to possession of territory “as spear-won land” ([Dem.] 7.28; Dem. 12.22; Diod. Sic. 17. 17.2; Just. Epit. 11.5.10), or, as noted earlier, when the Athenians proclaimed to the Melians that the strong did what they wished and the weak suffered (Thuc. 5.89),77 they were accepting a general belief in the efficacy of war as a decisive way to settle disputes and declare the fundamental dominance of the victor 74

While Achilles (Il. 18.107) rather uncharacteristically states, “may strife (Eris) perish from among the gods and men,” Aristotle (Eth. Eud. 7.1235A.25–39) quoting the line rejects that such a result would create harmony, for true harmony can only arise through antagonism. Plato (Leg. 1.625A) has Clinias declare that all states are perpetually engaged in informal warfare, that is competition. 75 While the Athenians worshipped Eleos and had reputation for mercy in their law courts (see Herman 1994), Isocrates (15.20) states that this reputation was not deserved. 76 Keil (1916) 5–6; GSW 3.161. Victor Alonso Troncoso (2007, 209) argues that while this philological analysis is correct, it is not reflective in actuality of the regular state of city-state relations, being that of constant belligerency. I would agree, but I would argue that when conflict arose much too often it was resolved through bloodshed. 77 This is a point echoed earlier in the Athenian speech before the Spartan assembly prior to the start of the Peloponnesian War of 431 (Thuc. 1.76.2–3). However, when the tables were turned and the Athenians had lost their empire and the Spartans held sway, then the Athenians saw the justice in denying that might makes right (Isoc. 8. 6).

600

Anson

over the defeated. While soldiers and civilian populations might not be killed or enslaved, that was a decision made by the victor and the usually the result of some cold calculation of advantage for doing so. In all such cases, it was the decision of the victor and not some recognized standard of humane treatment. As noted earlier, during the Peloponnesian War, after the suppression of the revolt of Mytilene, Cleon had convinced the Athenians of the desirability of executing all the men and enslaving the women and children as a means to discourage future revolts (Thuc. 3.36.1–2, 40.7). The next day, Diodotus convinced the Athenians to reverse this order. His arguments, like those of Cleon the previous day, did not mirror humane concerns but rather were based on what would be best for Athenian imperial interests (Thuc. 3.47–48). Alexander could also be magnanimous. He gave Porus back his kingdom after defeating him in battle. He was impressed by his nobility (Arr. Anab. 5.19.3). Most often the Macedonian king treated those who surrendered without a fight very well and those who resisted suffered the ultimate of the horrors of defeat. Those who surrendered had thereby acknowledged Alexander’s superiority and his power over them. This was a policy meant to encourage others to surrender, not an example of humanity. The “rules” of war from the Archaic Age through the Hellenistic were in most respects those set forth by Homer. Consequently, the answer to the question posed at the beginning, whether Philip and Alexander violated the standards related to war during their time, is clearly no they did not. Indeed, the violence found generally in ancient Greek warfare is both widespread and shocking in its brutality. Brian Bosworth has even stated with respect to the Athenians that “It seems that [they] at home and in the field were forced into humane behavior by the physical constraints of massacre.”78 In short, it was the difficulty of killing large numbers, not the result of any true sense of humanity, that limited such actions. The reality of war for those directly affected by it is not success or failure in achieving long-range goals, but the carnage that war entails. It was this reality that is most highlighted in antiquity. Heraclitus is reported to have said, “War is both the king of all and father of all, and it has revealed some as gods, others as men, it has made some slaves, others free” (Heraclitus 22. B53). In short, the Greek concept of war was as the definer of superiority and inferiority. In ancient warfare, violence and terror were “what the weak had to suffer,” if they wished to resist the stronger. Killing the enemy and enslaving survivors, soldiers, and civilians alike, seizing their land and possessions, or

78 Bosworth (2012) 23.

Conclusion: “ We Are the Champions ”

601

granting the defeated their lives and their freedom as gifts, were the ultimate measures of triumph and superiority, the decisive proclamation of victory and the acquisition of honor and glory by the champions. It was such “triumphs,” without consideration of their cost, that in the eyes of contemporaries and later generations, as well, made Alexander “the Great.”79 Works Cited Alonso, V. (2007) “War, Peace and International Law in Ancient Greece,” in Raaflaub (2007) 206–25. Armstrong, J. and Trundle, M. (eds) (2019) Brill’s Companion to Sieges in the Ancient Mediterranean. Warfare in the Ancient Mediterranean World 3. Leiden. Baker, G. (2021) Spare No One: Mass Violence in Roman Warfare. Lanham, MD. Beard, M. (2007) The Roman Triumph. Cambridge, MA. Bloxam, D. and Moses, A. D. (eds) (2010) The Oxford Handbook of Genocide Studies. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1980) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander. Vol. 1. Commentary on Books I–III. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (1996) Alexander and the East: The Tragedy of Triumph. Oxford. Bosworth, A. B. (2012) “Massacre in the Peloponnesian War,” in Dwyer and Ryan (2012) 17–26. Brice, L. L. (2016) “Insurgency and Terrorism in the Ancient World, Grounding the Discussion,” in Howe and Brice (2016) 3–27. Brice, L. L. (ed) (2020) New Approaches to Greek and Roman Warfare. Hoboken, NJ. Brighton, T. (2009) Patton, Montgomery, Rommel: Masters of War. New York. Bruce, R. B. (1998) “To the Last Limits of Their Strength: The French Army and the Logistics of Attrition at the Battle of Verdun 21 February–18 December 1916.” Army History 45: 9–21. Buis, E. J. (2018) Taming Ares: War, Interstate Law and Humanitarian Discourse in Classical Greece. Leiden. Cahill, N. (2000) “Olynthus and Greek Town Planning.” CW 93: 497–515. Carney, E. and Ogden, D. (eds) (2010) Philip II and Alexander the Great: Father and Son, Lives and Afterlives. Oxford. D‘Huys, V. (1987) “How to Describe Violence in Historical Narrative: Reflections of the Ancient Greek Historians and Their Ancient Critics.” AncSoc 18: 209–50. 79

Despite the occasional criticism, Curtius (10.5.37) declares that Alexander achieved all that a mortal was capable of and Arrian (Anab. 7.30.2) calls him “a man beyond all men.” In the words of Diodorus Siculus (17.1.3): “Alexander accomplished great things in a short space of time, and by his acumen and courage surpassed in the magnitude of his achievements all kings whose memory is recorded from the beginning of time” (LCL trans.).

602

Anson

Ducrey, P. (1993) “Aspects juridiques de la vitoire et du traitement des vaincus,” in Vernant (1993) 231–43. Ducrey, P. (1999) Le traitement des prisonniers de guerre dans la Grèce antique, 2nd edn. Paris. Dwyer, P. and Ryan, L. (eds) (2012) Theatres of Violence: Massacre, Mass Killing and Atrocity throughout History. Oxford. Fiala, A. (2008) The Just War Myth: Moral Illusions of War. Lanham, MD. Fischhoff, B., Atran, S., and Fischhoff, N. (2007) “Counting Casualties: A Framework for Respectful, Useful Records.” Journal of Risk and Uncertainty 34: 1–19. Gaca, K. L. (2010) “The Andrapodizing of War Captives in Greek Historical Memory.” TAPhA 140: 117–61. Garlan, Y. (1975) War in the Ancient World. A Social History. New York. Hamilton, J. R. (1969) Plutarch Alexander: A Commentary. Oxford. Hammond, N. G. L. (1989) “Casualties and Reinforcements of Citizen Soldiers in Greece and Macedonia.” JHS 109: 56–68. Hamourtziadou, L. (2017) “Human Security and the Emergence of Modern-Day Body Counts: The Law, the Theory, and the Practice of Casualty Recording.” Journal of Global Faultlines 4: 57–70. Hanson, V. D. (1989) The Western Way of War: Infantry Battle in Classical Greece. Berkeley. Hanson, V. D. (1995) The Other Greeks. New York. Hanson, V. D. (2004) Wars of the Ancient Greeks. Washington, DC. Heckel, W., Naiden, F. S., Vanderspoel, J., and Garvin, E. E. (eds) (2021) Companion to Greek Warfare. Hoboken, NJ. Herman, G. (1994) “How Violent was Athenian Society,” in Osborne and Hornblower (1994) 99–117. Howe, T. and Brice, L. L. (eds) (2016) Brill’s Companion to Insurgency and Terrorism in the Ancient Mediterranean. Leiden. Hunt, P. (2021) “War and Slavery in the Greek World,” in Heckel et al. (2021) 271–85. Kaplan, L. F. (2011) “Vietnamization.” The New Republic. https://newrepublic.com /article/84532/body-count-vietnam-afghanistan-iraq. Keil, B. (1916) EIPHNH: Eine philologisch-antiquarische Untersuchung. Leipzig. Krentz, P. (2002) “Fighting by the Rules: The Invention of the Hoplite Agôn.” Hesperia 71: 23–39. Lanni, A. (2008) “The Laws of War in Ancient Greece.” Law and History Review 26: 469–89. Lateiner, D. (2017) “Insults and Humiliations in Fifth-Century Historiography and Comedy.” Histos Supplement 6: 31–66. Lendon, J. E. (2009) “Homeric Vengeance and the Outbreak of Greek Wars,” in Van Wees (2009) 1–30. McNamara, R. S. (1996) In Retrospect: The Tragedy and Lessons of Vietnam. New York.

Conclusion: “ We Are the Champions ”

603

Norris, M. (1991) “Military Censorship and the Body Count in the Persian Gulf War.” Cultural Critique 19: 223–45. Osborne, R. and Hornblower, S. (eds) (1994) Ritual, Finance, Politics, Athenian Demo­ cratic Accounts Present to David Lewis. Oxford. Raaflaub, K. A. (ed) (2007) War and Peace in the Ancient World. Oxford. Richardson, S. (2016) “Insurgency and Terror in Mesopotamia,” in Howe and Brice (2016) 31–61. Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (1998) Article 8, “War Crimes.” Rubincam, C. (1991) “Casualty Figures in the Battle Descriptions of Thuydides.” TAPhA 121: 181–98. Seaman, M. (2020) “Early Greek Siege Warfare,” in Brice (2020) 29–38. Squillace, G. (2004) Basileis o tyrannoi. Filippos II e Alessandro Magno tra opposizione e consenso. Rubbettino. Squillace, G. (2010) “Consensus Strategies under Philip and Alexander: The Revenge Theme,” in Carney and Ogden (2010) 69–90. Spencer, D. (2002) The Roman Alexander. Exeter. Stoneman, R. (2016) “The Origins of Quintus Curtius’ Concept of Fortuna,” in Wulfram (2016) 301–22. Tarn, W. W. (1948) Alexander the Great. Vol. 1. Narrative. London. Tarn, W. W. (1950) Alexander the Great. Vol. 2. Sources and Studies. London. Trundle, M. (2019) “The Introduction of Siege Technology into Classical Greece,” in Armstrong and Trundle (2019) 134–49. Van Wees, H. (ed) (2000) War and Violence in Ancient Greece. Swansea. Van Wees, H. (2010) “Genocide in the Ancient World,” in Bloxham and Moses (2010) 239–58. Vernant, J.-P. (ed) (1993) Problèmes de la Guerre en Grèce ancienne. Paris. Wulfram, H. (2016) Der Römische Alexanderhistoriker Curtius Rufus: Erzähltechnik, Rehtorik, Figurenpsychologie Und Rezeption. Vienna.

Index (Alexander III, Macedon, and Philip II are so common they have been excluded) Achaemenid 38–9, 46, 50, 195, 282, 290, 310, 313, 399–400, 402–3, 411, 544–5, 560, 562, 564–6 Achilles 113–4, 211, 256, 303, 370, 396–7, 431–2, 451, 462, 464, 468, 470, 509, 561, 584–6, 597, 599. See also Homer, Patroclus Adea/Adea Eurydice 503–5, 535–7, 541n43 Admiral 68, 91, 95, 100–1, 103 Aegae 136, 142, 167–8, 435, 450, 482, 536 Aegean Sea 21, 22, 90, 97, 99–104, 105n65, 116, 307, 332, 394, 564–65 Aegospotami, battle 407, 585, 598 Aeschines 27, 330, 534–5 559, 563 Aetius of Amida 305 Afghanistan 36, 61, 315, 318, 593 Agalasseis 228, 439, 468 Agathon 208, 228–9 Agema 154, 156, 158, 235 Agesilaus 43, 81, 300 Agios Athanasios 167 Agis III 103, 205–6, 213, 401–2, 409, 411, 539–40 Agrianes, Agrianian 6, 42, 46, 153, 192, 202, 207–13, 216–8, 223, 240–1, 284, 354, 503 Agriculture (includ. Farming and Pastoralism) 73, 83, 116, 119, 165–7, 173–4, 176, 249, 254, 270, 282, 287–92, 331, 532–4, 540, 352, 532–4, 540, 583. See also Economics, Grain, Horse breeding Alcetas 152, 327, 503–5 Alexander IV, king 298, 540, 544 Alexander of Mieza 518 Alexander Mosaic 178 Alexander Sarcophagus 178, 180–1, 328n139 Alexandria 76, Causasus 76, 454 Egypt 77, 210, 304, 437, 440, 453, 459 Eschate 77, 83n82, 291 Altheas 323 Alyattes 187 Ammon 377, 393, 398, 406, 416–9, 432, 449, 453, 455, 457, 461, 469 

Amphictyonic Council/League 22, 26–30, 66, 434, 449–50, 556. See also Sacred wars Amphipolis 19, 21, 26, 89, 99, 136, 224, 249, 259, 273–4, 294, 302, 309, 370, 532 Amphissa, Amphissians 27–8, 96 Amyntas II, king 265, 271 Amyntas III, king 18, 135, 140, 167, 298, 302, 310, 449, 481 Amyntas, brother of Peucestas 518 Amyntas, Lyncestian 235, 236 Amyntas Perdicca, IV? 136, 188–9, 232, 408, 501–3 Amyntas, son of Andromenes 66, 152, 231–5, 269, 273, 494 Amyntas, son of Arrhabaios 225–6, 228–9, 232 Andromachus 106, 194 Andronicus 195–6 Antigonid Dynasty 77 Antipater 73, 96, 101–3, 151, 194, 205–6, 213, 224, 232, 266, 294, 298–9, 331, 411, 486, 489n35, 502–3, 515–6, 535–6, 538–41, 544 Aornos, rock 83, 115, 122, 211, 291, 398, 431, 454,467–8 Apadana 565 Apis 81 Apollo 22, 24n43, 25, 27, 30, 432, 440, 444, 450, 454, 458, 464, 484, 556–7, 567, 580, 599 Apomachoi 252, 330 Archelaus  297, 481, 532 Archon, of Thessaly 25, 30, 66, 228 Archon polemarchos 273 Arete 479, 555 Argaeus, king 399 Argaeus, pretender 19, 135–7, 141, 189, 482–3 Argead 18, 20, 141, 165, 167, 264, 267, 298, 347, 399, 414–5, 431, 480–2, 502–3, 539, 540, 556 Arginusae, battle 595 Argos, Argives 70, 115, 205, 212, 463, 580

606 Argyraspids 159, 160, 234, 235–9 Aristobulus 191, 204, 313, 348, 413–4, 518 Aristeia 255–7, 397 Aristonous 516 Aristotle 118, 298–9, 302–4, 310, 313, 317, 502, 509, 511, 586–7, 591, 599 Arrhidaeus. See Philip III Artabazus 83, 128, 289, 543, 545 Asian troops 79, 213–7, 223, 229, 336–7, 349, 370, 381, 404 Assyria, Assyrians 84, 289, 306, 405, 462 Asthetairoi 135, 152–4, 160, 231, 233–4, 270 Asymmetric warfare 80–2. See also Insurgency Artemis 445, 451, 457, 463, 599 atakton tagma. See Indisciplined unit Athena 43, 397, 432, 437, 451–4, 457, 463–4, 467, 580, 585, 598–9 Athens, Athenians 18–19, 21–2, 24–8, 43, 63, 65–6, 68–9, 81, 89–97, 100, 102n58, 114, 118–20, 122–4, 136, 137, 140, 145, 166–7, 171, 174–5, 176n45, 188–9, 191, 198–9, 207–9, 250, 272–4, 326, 330, 355n39, 394, 396, 401, 406–7, 410, 433, 437, 458, 482, 502, 534–5, 540n38, 541, 558, 567, 581, 584–5, 591, 593, 595, 598n73, 599n77, 600 Attalus (uncle of Kleopatra) 355, 491, 494 Audata 18–9, 207, 503, 535 Automedon 190 Babylon, Babylonians 49, 79, 314, 404–5, 420, 440, 446, 597 Bactria, Bactrians 37, 49, 61, 197, 213, 313, 361, 374, 402, 412, 490, 496, 506–7, 512, 544 Bactrian-Sogdian Revolt 73, 78, 82–4, 115, 122, 291, 364–6, 542, 544, 560, 562–3  Baggage 204, 254, 281–8, 290, 313, 324–7, 330, 543 Balacrus 152, 204, 210, 541 Balkans 204, 206–9, 212–3, 216–7, 241, 248, 260, 285, 321, 486–8, 496, 542 Bardylis 18–9, 136–41, 170, 207, 265, 352, 435, 448–9, 483, 503, 555–6 Barsine 516, 543, 545, 564–5 Bessus 83, 210, 291, 361, 402–3, 412, 443–4, 466, 492–3, 562, 567–8, 586, 590

Index Betis 113–4, 130, 590 Body counts 593–5 Boeotia, Boeotians 23, 25–6, 28–9, 118, 178–9, 181, 191, 203, 273, 354, 407, 434–5, 568, 589. See also Chaeronea, Thebes Bonuses 195, 248, 253n35, 255– 7, 259, 288n16, 294–5, 331, 346, 361, 375–6, 378, 488, 594 Booty 94, 116, 122, 212, 248, 253–6, 351, 356–7, 365, 532, 563–7, 591 Bottiaia 224 Branchidae 406, 412–3, 420, 437, 443, 466, 470, 563–4, 568, 590 Brahmans 80, 439, 441, 467–8 Brasidas 165, 264 Bribery 19, 25, 65–6, 120, 125, 136, 166–7, 309–10, 352, 363, 464, 482 Bucephalus 55, 74, 175, 502 Burial 79, 142, 258, 317, 357, 436, 438, 443, 446, 449–50, 462–6, 468, 470, 536, 585, 595–6, 598 Byzantium 92–8, 114–5, 117, 122–4, 319–20, 434, 449nb Cadmea 68–9, 406, 408, 597 Caeria 503 Calas 190, 192, 205, 227, 240 Callisthenes 41, 228, 267, 392, 397, 412–3, 417, 419–20, 437, 442–3, 466–7, 513, 517, 563 Caria 101, 214, 217, 358, 542–3 Cassander 192, 408, 515, 530, 536, 544 Casualties 24, 51, 54–6, 62–4, 66, 114–7, 126–7, 140, 142, 258, 266, 304, 316–7 323, 326–9, 357, 359, 373, 409–10, 434n27, 436n38, 444, 449–51, 455, 463–6, 468, 482–3, 530, 552, 555, 560–1, 582, 584–5, 593–6 Cathaeans 211, 552 Cavalry 42, 166–8, 170–2, 192, 204–207, 211, 213–4, 223, 228–9, 236, 248, 259, 265, 291, 321, 366, 376, 384, 407, 481–2, 495–6. See also hamippoi, Hipparchy, Horse breeding, Ile, prodromoi Allied (except Thessalian) 42, 84, 192, 204–5, 208, 211–3, 224–6, 228–30, 265–6, 496 Arms and armor 178–83, 209n25

Index Cavalry (cont.) Bactrian 49–50, 84 Commanders/Officers 224–32, 239–40, 515, 521–2. See also Hipparch, Ilarch Macedonian 40–52, 55, 136, 146, 155–6, 159, 164–73, 178–83, 192, 207, 209n25, 210, 214, 223–6, 231n32, 258, 264–9, 271, 284, 330n148, 407, 481, 483, 485–7, 490, 494, 506–7, 512, 515, 521 Persian 40–52, 169, 172, 177–8, 180, 204, 213–4, 229–30, 290, 381, 521–2 Scythian 49–50, 230–1 Thessalian  20, 24–5, 45–6, 52, 146, 173–9, 183, 192, 202–3, 206, 209, 211n29, 212, 223, 227–8, 240, 266, 484 Ceremony 79, 258, 417, 521 Chaeronea, battle of 18, 26–31, 45, 56, 64–5, 78, 88, 97–8, 124, 140–2, 170–1, 183, 203–4, 207, 217, 266, 272, 316, 357, 370, 394, 486, 489, 502, 537, 595 Chalcidian League 21, 26, 124, 557–8 Chalcidice, Chalcidians 21–2, 26, 124, 265, 301, 557–8 Charidemus 486, 559–60 Children 47, 67, 71–2, 81, 83–4, 116, 118–9, 128, 197, 217, 241–2, 326, 331–2, 357, 363, 367–8, 375, 378, 394, 410, 433, 452, 516, 529, 531–4, 537–42, 545–6, 552, 558, 563, 584, 589, 591–2, 594, 597, 600 Chiliarch/Chiliarchy 150, 158, 232–3, 236–7, 240, 258, 515–8 Chios, Chians 94–6, 100–3, 124, 253 Cicero 120, 429, 438 Citizen soldiers 117, 264, 266, 269–70, 539 Cleitarchus 191, 412–3, 417, 420, 429, 437, 439, 442n72 Cleitus, the Illyrian 209–10, 233 Cleitus the Black, son of Dropides 43, 180, 190, 223, 225–6, 233–5, 268, 363, 408, 431, 440, 445, 454, 460, 467, 489–91, 493, 506–8, 512–3, 515, 520, 522 Cleitus, the White 153, 233–5, 238 Clemency  66, 412, 439, 441, 444, 463, 471, 564, 590, 598–9 Cleon 63, 584, 600 Coenus  55–6, 66, 152–4, 196–7, 257, 318, 468, 491, 496–7 Coeranus 204

607 COIN. See Counterinsurgency Coinage 61, 91, 167, 174–5, 178–9, 250–3, 256–7, 271, 365, 393, 398–9 Colonists. See also Settlers Combined arms 142–4, 164, 168–71, 173, 243 Common Peace 29, 78, 91, 97, 407 Companions. See Hetairoi   Companion Cavalry. See cavalry, Macedonian Conscription  151, 207, 213, 266–9, 272–3, 329  Conspiracies  355n39, 362n66, 363n71, 443, 460, 467, 490–1, 493–4, 496, 503, 512 Corinth, Corinthians 29, 69, 70, 78, 354, 581, 591 Corinthian League. See League of Corinth Corrhagus 273 Cossaeans 73, 217, 382 Cothelas 72 Counterinsurgency 4, 61, 80–85, 361, 364 Craterus 55, 66–7, 106, 153, 214, 226–8, 232–5, 237–9, 242, 303, 324, 378, 440–1, 453, 460, 489, 513–4, 516, 519, 520, 540–1 Crete, Cretans 45, 174, 189, 207 Critobulus of Cos 298 Crocus Field, battle of 18, 20–6, 30, 170, 176, 183, 203, 265–6, 449, 484, 556, 589 Crucifixion 24, 70, 83, 122, 127, 130, 309, 410, 542, 556, 588–9, 591, 598 Cynnane 502–5, 535–6, 541 Cyropolis 210, 364, 562 Cyrus I, king of Persia 130, 218, 300, 303, 305, 316, 325, 404–5, 469, 591 Cyrus II, king of Persia 565 Cyrus, pretender 38 Danube, river  72, 98–9, 124, 354, 450 Daric 256 Darius I, king of Persia 71, 80–1, 310, 404, 443, 562n49, 567 Darius III, king of Persia 39, 40, 42–52, 57, 70, 79, 103–4, 125, 173, 177–8, 194–5, 198, 210, 256, 289–91, 294–5, 309–10, 314, 358–60, 393, 396, 401–3, 405, 409–14, 419, 440, 442, 458–9, 464–6, 486, 488–9, 492–3, 495, 506, 516, 541, 543–5, 560–5, 567, 586, 590 Dedications  43, 228, 429, 431–2, 435–6, 443–5, 448, 450–6, 466, 517

608 Defection 98n43, 103–4, 232, 253, 486 Delian League 217, 586–7 Delphi 22, 66, 227, 415, 418–9, 434–5, 439–40, 449, 457, 466, 556–7, 580. See also Amphictyonic Council Demetrius, admiral 95 Demetrius Poliorcetes 114, 123, 317  Demetrius, son of Pythonax 513  Demetrios, son of Althaimenes 268 Demophon 438, 445, 455, 461 Demosthenes 19, 27–8, 66, 69, 89–92, 94, 118–9, 145–6, 166–7, 174, 189–90, 250, 252, 351, 430, 485, 534–5, 555, 557–9, 591 Desertion 23, 82, 188, 253n36, 329, 352–3, 370, 372, 483–4, 486, 588 Didyma 412, 437, 443, 466 Dimnos 363, 512 Dimoirites 149–50 Diocles of Carystus 299 Diodotus 584, 600 Diogenes 211, 441 Discharge  76, 118, 160, 195, 228, 235, 238, 251–2, 256, 258, 316, 330–32, 346, 354, 375–82, 404, 497, 546  Discipline 41, 51, 72, 146–7, 242n65, 271–5, 327, 346–8, 351–4, 359, 362–3, 372, 374n121, 377, 379n140, 380–3, 485, 491, 556. See also Indiscipline, Indisciplined unit, Rewards and honors Dioxippus 273 Docimus 191 Dory 180 Drachma 193, 250–1, 255, 270 Dracon of Cos 306, 311–2 Drangiana 362, 493, 512 Drypetis 516 Ecbatana 71, 73, 195, 252, 295, 359–60, 362, 381–2, 509, 514 Economics and economy 94, 165–6, 174, 183, 188, 192, 195–8, 248–9, 253–4, 270, 288–90, 292–5, 358, 531–5, 538–40, 546, 557–8. See also Booty, Pay, Slavery, Women Enslavement. See Slavery Entertainment 258, 346, 348, 353. See also Games

Index Epaminondas 52, 135, 168, 192n12, 273n29, 482 Ephorus 123, 555 Epigonoi 202, 206, 214–8, 241–3, 375–6, 378–9, 403–4, 469, 496, 497n65, 539, 546 Epirus, Epirotes 21, 27, 57, 153, 321, 490, 503, 540 Erigyius 192, 228, 240, 324, 466, 491 Ethnic stereotyping 38, 88, 94, 254, 272–3, 561, 587 Euboea 89, 91, 101–3, 189–90 Eumenes 238, 293, 316, 514 Euphrates, river 287, 560 Euthyphro 581 Exiles 198–9, 253, 406, 482, 534 Extispicy 430, 432, 435–8, 441, 448, 460–1 Famine 540 Field hospital 327–8 Funerals 167, 256, 299–300, 314, 316, 431, 438–9, 444, 452, 461, 465–6, 469–70, 488, 497, 509–10, 517, 536, 543, 595. See also Burials Games 26, 158, 199, 254n43, 256, 258–9, 274, 331, 371, 431, 435, 444–5, 450, 452–6, 582 Ganges, river 214, 243, 496, 560 Gaugamela, battle of 35–8, 42, 45, 48–52, 54, 56, 152, 171, 177–8, 194–5, 204–8, 210, 213, 217, 224–5, 229–30, 232, 236, 254–5, 257, 267–9, 287, 289, 304, 314, 326–7, 356, 394, 402, 405, 410, 413, 419, 436–8, 446, 453, 459, 465, 486, 488–9, 506, 512, 560 Gaza 66, 71, 113–15, 121–2, 126–7, 130, 204, 283, 286, 291, 294–5, 303–4, 397, 452, 459, 464, 542, 561–2, 590 Getae 72, 354 Gedrosia 130, 211, 218, 238, 291, 304, 315–16, 326, 373–4, 404, 443, 455, 469, 545–6, 592 Generalship 144–5, 281, 301, 483–4, 487 Grain 92–4, 103, 124, 174, 283, 286–8, 313, 529, 533, 540 Granicus River, battle of 35–7, 40–5, 47, 49–50, 54, 152, 169, 171–2, 177, 179–80, 182, 193, 205, 208, 210, 225, 228–9,

Index Granicus River, battle of (cont.) 232–3, 258, 284, 290, 294, 305, 354, 357, 401, 409, 414, 436, 438, 451, 457, 463, 490, 506–7, 539–40, 560–1, 589, 594 Guerrilla 75–6, 80–2, 291, 364. See Asymmetric warfare, Insurgency Halicarnassus 102, 104, 115, 123, 236, 327, 356, 359 hamippoi 156, 159, 168–9, 171–2, 181. See also Cavalry, Macedonian Harmatelia 439, 468 Harpalus 192, 227, 520, 541 Hector 113–14, 117, 397, 543, 585 Hegemon 25, 29–31, 78, 97, 223, 331, 354, 446 Hellenic League. See League of Corinth Helots 81–2, 533, 581 Hephaestion 68, 224–6, 233–4, 309, 376, 381, 397, 431–2, 439, 445, 451, 455–6, 461, 470, 501, 506–20, 522, 544 Hera 585, 599 Herbal medicines 299, 302, 305, 313, 320–1 Heraclea Lyncestis 137–8, 140–1, 170, 179, 183 Heracles 70, 104, 109, 117, 125, 274, 398–400, 409–10, 416, 420, 431–2, 434, 440–1, 444, 447, 450–3, 455–6, 458, 462–4, 467–8, 562, 568 Heraclitus 595, 599–600 Hermolaus 363, 490–1, 493 Hetairos/hetairoi 136, 153, 166, 223, 227–8, 233, 238, 249, 259, 302–3, 480–1, 485, 504–5, 510–2, 514–5, 522, 535 Hieron 94  Hierophant 448 Hipparch/Hipparchy 224–9, 233–4, 268–9 Hippocrates, son of Dracon 298–9, 306–8, 311–2 Hippocratic Corpus 299, 301–2, 304, 307–8, 312, 314, 319, 328–9  Hipponicus 190 Hippoteia 173 Hippotrophia 166, 173, 176 Homer  41, 113–4, 116–8, 187, 237, 258, 317, 397, 431, 446, 479–80, 509–10, 543, 545, 584, 592, 599–600 Horse breeding 166–67, 174–5. See also Cavalry Hostages  84, 215, 241, 482, 496, 551–2, 579 

609 Hydaspes River, battle 35–7, 53–6, 157, 196, 206, 210–1, 214, 230–4, 237–8, 242, 255–6, 317, 370–1, 437–8, 445, 454–5, 468, 495, 518 Hypaspists 42, 46, 105, 135, 148, 150, 153–60, 168–9, 172–3, 205, 209, 234–41, 235–41, 251–2, 270, 284, 378, 380–1, 404, 487, 490 Hyphasis River 56, 117, 196, 208, 214, 237, 243, 246, 258, 366–72, 374–5, 377–79, 381, 399, 404, 431n11, 436, 443, 455, 460–1, 468, 491–2, 494–7, 520 Ilarch 224–7 Iketerios 439 Ile, Ilai 223–8, 267–9 Ile Basilike 224–8, 268 Illyria, Illyrians 18–21, 63–5, 68, 73, 77, 136–8, 141, 146, 153, 156, 170, 175, 178, 188, 192, 207–9, 211–3, 233, 241, 246, 254, 345, 352, 401, 406, 434, 449, 457, 481–3, 487, 496, 501, 503, 531, 535–6, 552, 555–6, 567 Impiety 405, 433, 437, 443, 447, 466, 468, 508, 580, 586 India, Indians 35–7, 53–6, 63, 66, 73–4, 76–77, 80, 84, 109, 117, 196, 204, 206, 208, 210–1, 214, 216, 230, 233–4, 237–39, 241–42, 246, 254–6, 291, 298–9, 304, 313–5, 317, 320, 325, 332, 365–8, 370–4, 376, 397–400, 403, 411, 420, 436–7, 439–41, 454–5, 460–1, 467–9, 493, 496, 512–4, 518, 537, 542, 544, 552, 560, 562, 587, 593. See also Aornus rock, Hydaspes River, Hyphasis River, Indus River, Malli, Punjab Indus, river 54, 67, 109, 196, 211, 246, 284, 371–4, 436–7, 439, 454–5, 460–1, 468, 479, 495–6, 514, 518, 560, 593. See also Hydaspes River, Hyphasis River, India Indiscipline 23, 159, 272, 346–8, 350, 352–53, 357–60, 362–5, 367, 369–74, 377–84, 484, 486, 491–3, 556 Causes/Contributing factors 247, 258, 347–8, 360, 364–5, 367–9, 372, 378–80, 394, 404, 486, 490–4, 496 Expression of Grievances 369–72, 381, 491–2 Insubordination 23, 159, 272, 347, 353, 358–60, 373–5, 380n46, 382–3, 446n102. See also Defection, Desertion

610 Indiscipline (cont.) Mutiny 272, 377–81, 496–7, 520 Punishment  236n45, 362–3, 371, 378, 381, 385, 493. See also Discipline, Indisciplined Unit Resolution 368–71, 380–1, 492, Triggers 348, 353, 365, 367, 369, 375–80, 486, 496, Indisciplined unit (atakton tagma) 362–63, 493 Inner Front 61, 74–80 Insubordination. See Indiscipline Insurgency 61, 75–6, 80–85, 361–2, 364, 366. See also Asymmetrical warfare, Counterinsurgency, Guerrilla Iphicrates 140, 145–6, 209 Iraq 281 Isocrates 188, 197, 212, 587, 597, 599  Issus/Issos, battle 35–6, 39, 42–52, 54, 99, 102–4, 125, 152, 171–3, 176–8, 194, 204–5, 208, 210, 213, 226, 232–3, 236, 254–5, 295, 303, 305, 314, 325–7, 356, 394, 396, 398, 401, 409, 436, 438, 440, 443, 445, 452, 464, 510, 543, 560–1, 564, 568 Kalanos 439, 461, 469–70 Kazakhstan 73 Kingship  39, 49n28, 69, 78, 300, 302–3, 393–4, 398, 402, 408, 414–5, 479–97, 517, 520, 522, 556 Kopis 179  Lamian War 198–9, 228, 252, 539 Land grants 76–8, 173, 249, 257, 269–70, 350, 354, 485, 504, 531–2. See also Settlements Langarus 241, 503 Lanice 506–8 Leadership 26–7, 29–30, 36, 39, 41, 43, 49, 56–7, 117, 148, 226, 231–43, 310, 322, 345–8, 350, 352–3, 359, 372, 380, 382–4, 447–8, 479–82, 486, 497, 501–2, 516, 518, 521–2 Lechaeum, battle 585  League of Chalcidice. See Chalcidian League League of Corinth 29–31, 69, 124, 192–3, 195, 202–6, 212–3, 217, 223, 228, 252–3, 331n150, 394–6, 401–2, 407, 419, 446, 537, 563, 580 Leonnatus 211, 326, 518, 520

Index Leosthenes 198 Litters 323–4, 327 Logistics 35, 37, 39, 44, 62–3, 54n38, 92, 98–9, 114, 116, 121–3, 154, 165–6, 197, 250–1, 281–95, 318, 320, 323, 331n150, 346, 351n20, 358, 365, 367, 371, 512 Lower Macedonia 18, 141, 151, 231–2, 556 Loyalty 27, 75, 78–9, 101, 129, 151, 190, 205–6, 230, 235n43, 246, 345, 348, 350, 352, 372, 379, 381, 413, 480–1, 485, 493–6, 504–7, 511–4, 517, 521–2 Lucian 208, 429, 509, 553, 555 Luttwak, Edward 17, 75–6, 349 Lycia, Lycians 101, 104, 214, 441, 460, 529n1 Lydia, Lydians 187–8, 213–4, 217, 415, 506 Lyncestis 138, 141, 152–3, 170, 183, 264 Lysimachus 303–4, 518 Lysippus 258 Macedonian assembly 214, 249, 376–9, 408, 480, 486, 491, Machiavelli, Niccolὸ 76 Malli/Mallians 66–8, 117, 127, 149, 156, 197, 211, 251, 309, 311, 372–4, 437, 443, 445, 455, 461, 469, 518–19, 593 Manpower, Macedonian 88–9, 116, 119, 264–5, 319, 328–9, 434, 438, 538–40 Mantic 438 Maracanda 210, 507 Maritime hegemony 88, 91–2, 97, 101, 103 Marriage 18–21, 72, 79, 84, 119, 127–30, 207, 215, 217, 241–2, 256, 266n5, 302, 322n115, 358, 363, 375–6, 394, 403, 503–4, 516–7, 532, 538–9, 541–6, 559 McNamara, Robert 593 Meda 72, 207 Medicine 296–332 Supplies 317, 319, 320–1, 323 Medism 407, 563 Melos, Melians 63, 590–1, 599 Memnon of Rhodes 73, 99, 101–2, 115, 205, 290–1, 545, 565 Menecrates of Syracuse 298 Menidas 194, 229 Mercenaries 19, 22–25, 38–9, 42–3, 45–7, 76, 100, 103, 118–9, 123, 129, 136–7, 140, 145–6, 146, 172–3, 187–200, 204–7, 209–10, 212–13, 216–17, 223, 227–9, 234n41, 240–1, 248, 250–2, 255–6, 258, 270, 300, 319, 346, 349–50, 354–6, 360,

Index Mercenaries (cont.) 362, 365n78, 367, 374, 382, 401, 467, 481–2, 484, 489, 540–43, 561, 587–9, 595 Methone 22, 65, 136, 298, 351, 356, 418, 479, 535, 557 Mieza 509, 518 Military Unrest. See Indiscipline Misthophoroi 229, 556, 561 Misthos 250–1 Molossia, Molossians 21, 209, 431 Mutiny. See Indiscipline Mytilene, Mytilenians 63, 101, 584, 600 Nasos 253 Nation building 74, 77, 85 Navy  88–110, 206, 286 Allied 252–3, 286 Athenian 24, 68, 89–98, 100, 102n58, 123 Cypriot 102, 104–9 Macedonian 68, 88–110, 123–4, 126, 218, 253, 291–2, 371–2, 445n95, 518  Persian 68, 99–104, 409 Phoenician (except Tyre) 71, 102, 104–9 Tyre 105–109, 126 Nearchus 68, 109, 214, 218, 293, 348, 374, 545 Neogamoi 232, 252 Nicanor (fleet commander) 99 Nicanor (commander of Hypaspists) 158, 236–7, 465, 487, 489 Nicanor Stela 179 Nicolaus of Damascus 187–8 Nomos 435, 446, 596 Odrysians 192, 207–8, 212–3, 241 Olympias 21, 27, 121, 396, 399, 418, 440, 446, 449, 456–7, 464, 466, 469, 511, 529, 532, 535, 540, 544, 590 Olynthus, Olynthians 21, 26, 65, 76, 119–20, 165, 255, 265, 301, 308, 351, 355–6, 533–4, 557–60, 567, 580, 590–1 Omens 100, 358, 429–32, 435, 437–47, 450, 453–62, 585–6 Onomarchus 22–5, 114, 123, 170, 352–3, 483–4, 556–7 Opis 79, 154, 156, 164, 208, 214, 216, 236, 239, 247, 249, 253–6, 258, 292–3, 348, 367–8, 376–81, 394, 400, 403–4, 431, 455, 469, 496–7, 520, 532, 539 Oracles 66, 398, 406, 414–9, 431–2, 437–40, 441, 443–4, 446, 449, 457–60, 462, 580. See also Delphi, Didyma, Siwah

611 Oratory 70, 89–91, 100, 104, 119, 164, 196, 208, 247, 249, 253–4, 256, 293, 318, 353, 360, 368, 370, 372, 374, 378, 381, 394, 396, 398, 403, 409, 413, 417, 436, 442–3, 482, 486, 491–6, 532, 540, 599 Orphans 363, 533, 539, 594 Oxydracae 67, 518 Paeonia, Paeonians 18–21, 42, 63, 136–7, 141, 192, 202, 207–8, 211–3, 231, 308, 482–3, 496, 531 Pages or Paides 148, 151, 156, 231, 238–9, 443, 460, 467, 490–1, 496. See also Hostages Pangaeum 189–90 Panhellenism 29–31 Parades  431, 450–3, 597 Parmenion 41, 45–6, 48–9, 51–2, 98–101, 177–8, 192, 204, 207, 209, 225, 227–8, 230–1, 235–7, 266, 268, 309–10, 324, 347–8, 355, 362, 440, 458, 485, 487–94, 497, 502, 545, 561. See also Philotas, Thessalian Cavalry Parthia, Parthians 213n35, 506, 555 Patroclus 256, 321, 397, 451, 466, 470, 509, 584–5. See also Achilles, Homer Pausanias, bodyguard 191, 353 Pausanias, doctor 303, 306–7 Pausanias, king of Macedon 167  Pausanias, rival of Philip II 19, 136, 188–9 Pausanias, rival of Perdiccas II 264 Pay, military 22–3, 149, 188, 192–3, 206, 217, 246–59, 270, 293–5, 312, 331–2, 346–7, 351, 354, 360–1, 363–4, 375–6, 378, 380, 383, 532, 539, 585–6. See also Bonuses, Booty Peithon 152, 211, 233–5, 238, 518  Peloponnesian War 19, 63, 69, 82, 115, 120, 188, 209, 264–5, 407, 581n6, 591, 595–6, 599–600 Peltasts 173, 202, 207–12 Penestai 173–4, 533 Pentakosiarch 149–50, 158, 236–7  Perdiccas II, king 165, 264–5, 298, 399, 532 Perdiccas III, king 18, 63–4, 136, 140–1, 188–9, 232, 352, 408, 479, 481–3, 485, 501, 531, 555 Perdiccas, battalion commander, regent 152–4, 211, 226, 232–5, 238, 284, 384, 407, 503–4, 516, 518–20, 535, 541 Pericles 188, 595 Perinthus 92–95, 114–5, 117, 122–4, 356

612 Persepolis 66–7, 71, 73, 80, 195, 254, 267, 284, 295, 331, 358, 399, 402, 445, 453, 465, 521, 529, 565n62 Sack of 71, 79–80, 254, 267, 295, 356–7, 359, 399, 402–3, 406, 410–3, 436–7, 442, 465, 492, 529, 541, 564–8, 588–9 Perseus, king 144, 147, 213  Persian Gates 62, 66–7, 210, 226, 443, 460, 465 Persian Wars 25, 29–31, 37n7, 65n15, 140, 195, 585 Persis 61, 67, 195, 295, 379, 518–9 Petraeus, David 74–5, 77 Peucestas 156, 217, 257–8, 303, 496, 506, 518–22 Pezhetairoi 135, 138–41, 154–9, 169, 182–3, 224, 226, 231–5, 237, 240, 242, 249, 266, 351, 481–2, 504, 520–1 Pharkedon, Pharkedonians 190 Pherae 20–5, 175, 179, 557 Philip of Acarnania 303, 306–12, 317 Philip III (Arrhidaeus), king 20, 481, 502–4, 535–7, 540, 590 Philip V, king 95, 144, 147, 213, 329 Philippeion 430–1, 435, 448 Philocrates, peace  26–7, 65, 91  Philotas 66, 192, 210, 225–6, 228n17, 231, 236–7, 268, 325, 362–3, 442, 460, 487, 489–91, 493–4, 506–7, 512–3, 517, 540–1, 561. See also Parmenio Phocis, Phocians 22–6, 28, 76, 91, 114, 123, 203–04, 228, 407, 433, 437, 447, 449–50, 483–4, 556–7, 567. See also Crocus Field, Onomarchus, Third Sacred War Phoenicia, Phoenicians 70, 71, 99–109, 115, 124–6, 194, 283, 409 Piracy 90–1, 98, 103, 124 Piety 69, 81, 429, 434–7, 439, 443–4, 447, 449–50, 466, 470, 484, 508 Plato 118, 145, 174, 311–2, 581, 586, 599 Plunder. See Booty Polemocrates 152, 233, 257 Polybius 69, 77, 81–2, 144, 300, 321, 324, 553, 579–80, 584 Polydorus of Teos 299, 306  Polymachos 469 Polyperchon 226, 231–5, 516 Population transfers 76, 84–85, 531–2 Porus 37, 53–6, 66, 196, 210, 214, 216, 256, 317, 366, 368, 495, 600

Index Poseidon 78, 451, 580, 585, 599 Potidaea 21, 76, 89, 121, 530, 557–8, 590–91 Prizes 117, 158, 236, 256, 514, 545 Prodromoi 171–2, 180, 225–6, 228–30 Prohedria 258 Promotion 151–3, 158–60, 223, 227–8, 257–8, 346, 382, 404, 444, 487n28, 502, 512 Proskynesis 242, 378, 466–7, 492, 513 Prosthetics 331 Protesilaos 451 Psammon 441  Ptolemy, son of Lagus 56, 67, 226, 304, 328, 348, 367–8, 397, 408, 410, 413, 419, 440–2, 461, 515, 518, 541, 561, 588 Ptolemy, son of Philip 229 Ptolemy, son of Seleucus 232–33, 235 Ptolemy II 543 Punjab 117, 196, 366. See also Hydaspes river, Hyphasis river, India, Indus river Pydna 19, 76, 121, 144, 147, 299, 308–9, 540, 544 Pythian Games 26, 435, 450 Ranks 28, 77, 138–9, 141, 146, 148–52, 157, 159, 182, 193, 224–7, 236–243, 248, 256–7, 259, 266, 301, 306, 317, 319–21, 323–4, 328, 348, 369, 403, 486–7, 505, 515, 520–2, 553, 564 Rapid Dominance/Shock and Awe  61–65, 67–8, 71, 74, 553 Rations 145, 250–1, 287, 313, 320, 351, 359, 363–4 Rewards and honors 83, 128, 159–60, 210, 213, 223, 227, 234, 247–9, 255–9, 293, 299–300, 302, 310, 317, 320, 324, 329n146, 331, 346, 351, 353, 354, 357, 363, 444, 461, 463, 466, 471, 378, 381, 383, 452, 461, 466, 480, 484–5, 495, 504, 517, 534, 588, 595, 601 Rhoesaces 506 Rites, religious 79, 316, 399, 430, 438–9, 443–4, 446, 456, 461, 464, 509–10, 584– 5, 595. See also Extispicy, Sacrifices Roxane 127, 129, 215, 306, 544 Sacred Band 29, 56, 142, 146, 170–1, 482, 502–3, 509 Sacred Truce 580, 582, 584 Sacred War, Fourth 27, 76, 407. See also Amphictyonic council

Index Sacred War, Third 21–7, 202–3, 265–6, 407, 433–5, 449–50. See also Amphictyonic council Sacrifices 104, 125, 358, 368–9, 396–9, 418, 429, 432–8, 441–62, 468, 585, 595, 599. See also Extispicy, Rites Samnites 597 Sanctuaries 22, 125, 435, 437, 484, 557, 565 Sardis 187, 205, 284, 294, 451, 458, 463 Sarissa 42, 47, 135, 137–160, 164, 181–3, 224–6, 231, 242, 271–2, 482 Cavalry sarissa 180–3, 209n25, 225. See also cavalry, Macedonian Sarnusians 552 Sassanid 79 Scythia, Scythians 27–8, 49, 73–4, 77, 82, 210, 303, 434, 443–4, 466, 496, 534, 536 Seleucid Empire 62, 79, 148, 302, 311 Seleucus 223, 234n41, 238, 274n36 Semiramis 130, 218, 404 Service conditions, military 8, 151, 199, 228, 248, 249 nn11 & 16, 269–70, 314, 317, 329n147, 330, 345–84 Settlers 76–8, 92–3, 249, 270, 330, 463, 532. See also Land grants, Population transfers  Sexual abuse 529–31, 535, 537, 540, 542–3, 545, 551, 559–60, 564, 567–8, 592 Sicarii 81 Siege 36–7, 70, 78, 81, 91–95, 99–102, 104–109, 113–30, 142, 144, 156–7, 159, 194, 197, 210, 236, 255–6, 282–3, 285–6, 288, 294–95, 298, 301, 304, 317n94, 318, 327, 350–1, 355–6, 361, 366, 398, 406, 407n74, 409–10, 418, 434, 445, 449, 452, 479, 558, 562n51, 583–84, 587, 589, 597 Siege Engines 94, 106–7, 109, 114, 120–23, 126, 128, 283, 351, Silphium 313 Sitalces 165, 208, 213, 469 Siteresion 250–1 Sittacene 148, 236, 258 Siwah 398, 406, 414, 416–19, 453, 459, 464, 470 Slavery, slaves 64, 66, 68–72, 76, 81–4, 90, 109, 122, 255, 311–12, 319, 328, 410, 529, 530–1, 533–5, 537–546, 551, 557–61, 564, 567–8, 581, 584, 587, 589–600. See also Booty, Sexual abuse, Thebes’

613 destruction, Urbicide, War crimes, Women Sogdian Rock 115, 117, 119–20, 127–30, 256, 443, 466 Sogdiana, Sogdians 61, 73, 77–8, 82–4, 115, 117, 119–20, 122, 127–30, 159, 197, 213, 242, 256, 291, 306, 314, 364–6, 374, 412, 439, 443, 466, 496, 506–7, 512, 542, 544, 560, 562–3 Solygeia, battle of 595 Somatophylakes 223, 239, 353, 505, 507, 512, 518 Sparta, Spartans 22, 29, 37, 43, 52, 64, 69–70, 81–2, 103, 115–16, 119–20, 135, 146, 165, 175, 192, 205–6, 209, 264–5, 293, 300, 326, 401–2, 408–9, 509, 539–40, 580–1, 583, 585–6, 591, 597, 599 Spitamenes 83–4, 196, 210–11, 495 Spithridates 43, 79–180, 506 Spoils. See Booty Stability Operations 61, 74–80, 82 Successors 71, 110, 139–41, 151, 154, 159–60, 200, 217, 238, 243, 258, 304, 408–9, 411, 503, 519–20, 539 Συμμαχία, Σύμμαχοι (allies/alliances) 19–22, 26, 28–9, 43, 46, 63n11, 64, 68–9, 72, 84, 89, 91, 94–7, 102, 119, 123–5, 127, 165, 171, 176, 188, 192–5, 202–7, 209–10, 212–3, 216–8, 227–30, 240–2, 248, 250–3, 256, 264, 266, 331, 349–51, 353–6, 360–2, 367, 434, 483, 486, 491–3, 495, 555, 558, 567, 582, 586–7, 590 Suppliants 437, 439, 441, 464, 468, 582 Susa 71, 73, 148, 150, 153, 195, 198, 215, 227, 242, 256, 284, 293–95, 330, 374–6, 378, 403, 436, 445, 453, 460, 488, 496, 506, 516, 518, 520, 544, 567 marriages 215, 256, 403, 516, 520, 543–4 Symposium 490, 559 Syria, Syrians 45, 104, 124, 214, 287, 460 Tanais, river 73, 437, 442, 454, 460 Tarn, W. W. 215, 293–4, 412, 414, 420, 588, 592 Taxis, taxeis 150, 223, 229–30, 232, 267, 327 Taxes  258, 331–2, 357, 463, 497, 594 Taxiles 66, 212, 214, 216–7 Temples 69–70, 127, 397, 405, 409–10, 412, 417, 433, 437, 444, 449–51, 457–8, 461–5, 470, 556–7, 565, 579–80, 589

614 Terrorism 63, 81, 593 Thebes, Thebans 22, 27–9, 52, 56, 65, 68–71, 96, 119–20, 115, 119–20, 124, 135–7, 140, 146, 168–71, 191, 204, 206, 209, 233, 241, 272–3, 354–6, 394, 399, 401, 405–10, 413, 416, 450, 457, 462–3, 468, 482, 502–3, 509, 530, 537–8, 540, 542, 558, 561–4, 568, 586, 591 , 597. See also Boeotia, Sacred Band destruction  68–70, 101, 115, 191, 204, 206, 233, 241, 272, 354–6, 399, 401, 405–10, 413, 437, 462–3, 468, 530, 537–8, 540, 542, 561–4, 568, 579–80, 586, 590, 597 Theophrastus 139n16, 173–4, 299, 313, 429 Theopompus 156, 166, 235, 270, 322, 555 Thessaly, Thessalians 20–30, 45–6, 66, 88–9, 114, 164, 171, 178–9, 183, 190, 192, 202–3, 206, 209, 211–2, 223, 227–8, 233n39, 240, 252–3, 265–6, 295, 299–300, 350, 353–4, 398, 435, 449, 462, 483–4, 540, 556–7. See also cavalry, Thessalian Thessalian League 27, 228 Thrace, Thracians 18–9, 21, 26–7, 42, 45–6, 63, 65, 69, 72, 88–9, 92, 95–6, 101, 118–9, 123, 136–8, 140–1, 157, 165, 178, 192, 202–3, 205, 207–12, 223, 228–9, 240, 250, 254, 295, 345, 415, 481, 487, 496, 537, 557, 589 Thucydides 82, 116, 118, 121, 165, 178, 581, 587, 589, 591, 593, 595–7, 599 Tigris, river 198, 358, 376, 442, 453, 465, 486 Timoclea 537 Triballians 72–3, 141, 192, 207–9, 213, 241, 534 Tribute 73, 289, 294–5, 463, 598 Trireme 88–91, 93–4, 97, 99–100, 102–3, 105–8, 210, 253, 539 Triumph, Roman 594–5, 597 Tychon 301 Tyre, Tyrians 36, 70–1, 104–10, 114–5, 117, 122, 124–7, 156, 194, 256, 282–3, 285–6, 291, 295, 356, 398, 405–406, 409–10, 434, 436–7, 440–1, 444–5, 447, 508, 464, 529, 542, 561–2, 565, 590

Index United Nations 551–52, 579 Upper Macedonia 18–20, 64, 77–8, 82, 128, 151–3, 231–2, 242, 325, 479–80, 483, 487, 531, 556 Upper satrapies 196, 197 Urbicide. See Malli, Olynthus, Persepolis, Thebes, Tyre Uxians 66, 73, 240 Verdun, battle of 593–4 Vergina. See Aegae Veterans 135, 156, 159, 195, 200, 214, 227, 235, 238–39, 247, 258, 301, 316, 318, 322, 331–2, 354, 363, 375–82, 404, 483, 485, 488–89, 492, 546 Vulgate 122, 128, 148, 281, 293, 397, 439, 441, 447, 490 War crimes 551–68, 578 War wounds 315–32 Women 49n30, 67–68, 116, 128, 314n84, 410, 508, 529–46, 552, 559, 564, 589, 592 Enslaved 71–72, 81, 83, 410, 531, 534–35, 537–38, 540–43, 551, 558–59, 564, 584, 589, 591–92 Fighters 116n12, 119–20, 535–37  Royal, Macedonian 18–20, 72, 84, 127– 30, 207, 450, 502–4, 516, 535, 540–1, 544. See also Adea Eurydice, Cynnane, Olympias, Roxane Royal, Persian 516, 543–45, 564 Wives, non-Royal 195, 302, 363, 367n83, 532–3, 538–39, 541, 543, 545–6. See also Marriage Widows 531–3, 539, 545 Xenophon 118, 165, 168, 174, 178–9, 300, 303–4, 312, 326, 430, 446, 539, 586, 598 Xerxes 29, 38, 39, 71, 80, 140, 395, 405, 412, 436, 443, 564–7, 585, 587 Xyston 180, 183 Zeus 78, 214, 228, 398, 416–7, 432, 450–3, 458–9, 463–5, 467, 580, 585, 599

This Companion whose contributions come from an outstanding array of experts deals exclusively with the military campaigns of Philip  and his son Alexander the Great and their military forces. In addition to discussions of the strategy and tactics of the two commanders, the Companion includes chapters discussing and examining many aspects of the campaigns of both kings. Chapters are devoted to logistics, military recruitment and training, medical care, military organization, allies, propaganda, service conditions, sieges, officers, leadership, women, violence and much more. This Companion provides a thorough treatment of the Macedonian military and the campaigns of Philip  and Alexander . Contributors are: Lee Brice, Edward Anson, Frances Pownall, Matthew Sears, Joseph Roisman, Elizabeth Baynham, Graham Wrightson, Carolyn Willekes, Franca Landucci, Sulochana Asirvatham, Waldemar Heckel, Alexander Meeus, Jacek Rzepk, James Lacey, David Karunanithy, Jenn Finn, Jeanne Reames, Carol King, Monica D’Agnostini, Elizabeth Carney, Sabine Muller. Edward M. Anson is Distinguished Professor of History at the University of Arkansas, Little Rock. Among his recent publications are Philip II, the Father of Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues, 2021; Affective Relations and Personal Bonds in Hellenistic Antiquity (co-editor), 2021; Ptolemy I Soter: Themes and Issues, 2023.

ISSN 2452-1493 brill.com/wamw

9 789004 715035