The Elite

by Ranulph Fiennes

  Unfortunately, beyond the writings of Herodotus, and Persian paintings or sculptures, historical knowledge of the Immortals is somewhat limited and inconsistent. Herodotus said of them:

  Of these 10,000 chosen Persians the general was Hydarnes the son of Hydarnes; and these Persians were called ‘Immortals’, because, if any one of them made the number incomplete, being overcome either by death or disease, another man was chosen to his place, and they were never either more or fewer than 10,000.

  While there are few specifics as to their training or recruitment, Herodotus claims that, from the age of five, all Persian boys would be ‘taught to ride, to use the bow and to speak the truth’. Such skills were practised and honed until the age of twenty, with the most important being the ability to tame a wild horse, as the Persians were renowned for their impressive horse-riding ability.

  Following this, the Greek philosopher Strabo tells us that compulsory military service lasted from the age of twenty to twenty-four, where the young men were divided into companies of fifty, each under the command of a son of the nobility. After service, Strabo claims that the young men were demobilised but remained liable for military service until their fiftieth year. However, the very best of these men were recruited to the ranks of Cyrus’s elite killing machine.

  With such incomplete information available, there are conflicting theories about how the Immortals lined up, and about what actual function they served. Many believe the Immortals were primarily infantry, though there may have been some cavalry. Some believe there was even an elite within an elite, whereby 1,000 of the Immortals’ best men served as bodyguards to the king, who were signified by having apple counterbalances on their spears. Pictures and sculptures from the time certainly prove that they carried spears, with the regular 9,000 having silver or golden pomegranate counterweights. They were certainly well looked after, travelling to battle in luxury caravans, with servants attending to their every need. The finest food and drink were always available, as was a harem of beautiful women. Whatever their purpose, it was the Immortals’ unique set of skills that helped Cyrus conquer kingdom after kingdom, with Babylon next on his agenda.

  For months, Nabonidus had kept Cyrus and his Immortals at bay. Three walls of the Opis fortress were well defended by his soldiers, while the fourth backed onto the Tigris River. But this was a weakness Cyrus sought to exploit. If he could somehow get rid of the water, then he could attack the wall where the Babylonian defences were at their weakest.

  As such, Cyrus’s engineers had spent weeks working to divert the water. Now the river outside the fortress was dry, and the path to Opis, and all of Babylon beyond it, lay open for Cyrus. All that stood in his way were Nabonidus’s forces and, as with so many before them, Cyrus and the Immortals were confident they would again overcome and add yet another kingdom to the ever-expanding Persian Empire.

  In the blazing sun, the 10,000 Immortals waited for their king to give his order to attack. Surrounding him were his 1,000 elite guards, with apple counterbalances on the end of their 6ft spears. Whether these so-called apple bearers were officially ‘Immortals’ it is hard to say, but the king trusted them with his life. In front of them stood the main bulk of the Immortal forces, the sun shimmering off their bronze breastplates and helmets. To protect their faces from the dust being kicked up by the desert breeze, or the horses’ pounding, some of them wore a cloth cap, known as a Persian tiara, which they pulled over their faces. In their hands, they held their 6ft spears, some with golden pomegranate counterbalances, others with silver, their knuckles turning white in anticipation of the battle ahead. Meanwhile, the Persian archers stood before them, either side of the cavalry, their bows drawn and ready.

  Suddenly, the call to attack echoed across the line. The archers immediately unleashed a torrent of arrows that blotted out the sun and on impact pierced the flesh of thousands of Nabonidus’s men. As screams filled the air, the cavalry thundered forward. With slingshots in their hands, they fired stones with unerring accuracy, knocking the enemy to the ground, taking out their eyes and fracturing their skulls with a vicious crack. The Immortals now followed. Some launched their spears over their heads, sending them soaring through the air and plunging into the chests of the enemy. Others ran into battle, raising their shields for protection in one hand, stabbing with their spears in the other, moving relentlessly onwards. Should they be outnumbered, they stabbed in one direction then used their heavy counterbalances to deliver a knockout blow in the other. With some spears breaking in two on impact, they reverted to using their daggers, slings, maces or bow and arrow to maim and kill any man who stood in their way.

  As always, this form of attack was brutally effective. Before long, hardly any of the enemy were left standing, while any casualties or injuries in the Immortals’ ranks were immediately replaced by fresh recruits.

  Surveying the dead bodies littered across the battlefield, Cyrus looked with satisfaction across the horizon – Opis was his, and the road to Babylon was now clear. Just days later, he seized the city and proclaimed himself ‘king of Babylon, king of Sumer and Akkad, king of the four corners of the world’.

  However, while Cyrus became loved and adored in Babylon, and went on to expand his empire with the help of his Immortals, he was to meet a grisly death in 530 BC. There are many differing accounts regarding the precise nature of Cyrus’s death, but Herodotus claims that, after a savage and lengthy campaign against the Massagetae tribe, their queen, Tomyris, cut off Cyrus’s head and plunged it into a barrel of blood, apparently to signify his supposed insatiable appetite for blood and conquest.

  Yet, even as Cyrus perished and was succeeded by his son Cambyses II, the Immortals endured. While they continued to guard their king and help expand his empire, they soon faced a situation that military might alone would not allow them to overcome.

  Although the early years of Cambyses’ reign were relatively uneventful, there were already signs of things to come when he killed his young brother Smerdis, after seeing him as a rival. Herodotus has said of him, ‘They say that from birth Cambyses suffered from a serious illness, which some call the sacred sickness,’ and, ‘I have no doubt at all that Cambyses was completely out of his mind.’ Indeed, it was his rage at the broken promise of marriage that saw Cambyses embark on his first major conquest.

  Herodotus claims that this situation arose when the Egyptian Pharaoh Amasis II decided against marrying off his own daughter to Cambyses, despite a promise to the contrary. He instead sent the daughter of the former pharaoh, Apries, in her place. Insulted and aggrieved, when the poor girl arrived at Cambyses II’s court, she immediately revealed Amasis’ deceit.

  Cambyses was outraged and vowed revenge for such an affront. However, just as he mobilised his troops Amasis suddenly died, leaving Egypt in the hands of his son, Psametik III. But this did not deter Cambyses. By now, his heart was set on conquering Egypt and the death of Amasis would only make this easier than he had envisaged. After all, Psametik III was just a young man who had lived largely in the shadow of his father. And the odds against him were getting bigger with every passing day. Upon hearing of the Persians’ planned invasion, Psametik’s Greek allies had abandoned him. Meanwhile, his military counsel, Phanes of Halicarnassus, anticipating the slaughter to come, betrayed him and actually joined the Persians’ side, becoming a key source of intelligence.

  With little option, Psametik decided to fall back on the tried and tested method of defence in such times: he fortified his position at Pelusium, near the mouth of the Nile. Awaiting the Persian attack, he hoped he could frustrate them long enough to find a better solution. In such siege situations, the Immortals were by now well aware that brute force rarely sufficed. If they were to attempt to storm the walls, they would be met by a hail of arrows, spears and boiling oil. Despite this, Cambyses was impatient to end the siege quickly and enjoy the spoils of victory.

  While there are differing versions of what occurred next, I particularly like that of th
e second-century AD writer, Polyaenus. In his Strategems, he recounts that, while the Egyptians were initially successful in holding back the Persian advance, it was Cambyses’ knowledge of Egyptian beliefs and traditions that ultimately held the key to success.

  In ancient Egypt, cats were not only a popular pet but they were also revered for being closely associated with the goddess Bastet, who appeared in Egyptian art with the body of a woman and the head of a cat, or as a sitting cat in a regal pose. If she should be insulted, it was said that she would inflict plague and disasters on humanity. One way to ensure insulting Bastet was to harm a cat. Herodotus has stated that cats were so highly regarded in ancient Egypt that the punishment for killing one was death. There are also stories in which Egyptians caught in a burning building preferred to save their cats before saving themselves. (On a side note, as an avid lover of cats, I believe this is exactly what my wife, Louise, would do in such a situation. Furthermore, in houses where a cat has died a natural death, its inhabitants would shave their eyebrows as a sign of their grief. This is definitely a tradition I will not be sharing with my wife.)

  It was this knowledge of Egyptian culture and values that suddenly gave Cambyses a brilliant idea. He quickly ordered the Immortals to paint the image of Bastet on their shields and then round up as many of the animals as possible. It is quite amusing to think of these elite warriors scouring the countryside for these wild animals, but their efforts would prove to be worth it.

  On Cambyses’ orders, the Immortals moved forward on Pelusium, in front of a line of thousands of meowing and screeching cats. The Egyptians were befuddled. They daren’t shoot at the animals, or risk marking Bastet’s image on the Immortals’ shields, for fear of insulting the goddess. As they dithered, the Immortals moved ever closer, led by their army of cats. As I write this, I can see my wife’s fourteen cats (yes, you read that correctly, fourteen!) all patrolling the house and the gardens. The thought of fourteen ganging up on me is not a pleasant one, so imagining thousands of these creatures going into battle is enough to make me sympathise with what happened next.

  Unbelievably, as the Immortals approached the fortress, the Egyptians surrendered their position and took flight. At this sign of weakness, the Immortals showed no mercy, viciously striking down all who tried to escape. The slaughter was so great that Herodotus reported seeing the bones of the Egyptians still in the sand many years later. And, while those Egyptians not killed at Pelusium fled to the safety of Memphis, the Persian army was in full pursuit and soon took Memphis too, with equally bloody consequences, as Psametik was captured and executed.

  With this act, Cambyses and the Immortals ended the sovereignty of Egypt and annexed it to Persia. However, such was Cambyses’ scorn for the Egyptians’ beliefs, and their pathetic defence, that, after the battle, he hurled cats into the faces of his defeated enemy, incredulous that they would surrender their country, and their freedom, for these common animals.

  From this behaviour, it will not surprise you to learn that Cambyses soon came to resemble the stereotypical mad king. While he defiled and burnt the corpse of the pharaoh Amasis, he proceeded to slay a newborn Apis calf, worshipped as a god in Egyptian religion. Yet it seems the very beliefs he mocked would eventually have their revenge. Herodotus claims that, in April 522 BC, Cambyses died after his sword slid out of its scabbard and pierced his thigh, in the exact same place where he had stabbed the sacred Apis calf years before.

  While Cambyses’ successors ensured that the might of the Persian Empire continued, with more countries and continents falling under their command, one remained elusive: Greece.

  When Xerxes I took the Persian throne in 486 BC, Greece became his obsession. However, it would take more than cats for Xerxes to bend the country to his will. For, while only 300 men stood in the way of his massive army, these men were regarded as one of the greatest elite military units the world has ever known . . .

  2

  THE SPARTANS

  480 BC

  As the fierce sun beat down over the Spartan lands of ancient Greece, hundreds of thousands of Persian infantrymen marched to the narrow shore of Thermopylae. After taking the Greek capital of Athens, the Persian emperor, Xerxes, now looked to complete his conquest. And, for him, the conquest of Greece was personal, owing to his father’s failed attempt to claim it a decade earlier at the Battle of Marathon. Legend has it that, following this Greek victory, the official Athenian messenger ran all the way (26 miles) back to Athens to announce the Persians’ defeat. This was the origin of the marathon run, something I know through gruelling experience, having run seven marathons, on seven different continents, in seven days in 2003, just a few months after suffering a heart attack. Thankfully, I survived such a bitter ordeal, while the poor Athenian messenger did not.

  In any event, the Persian invasion of Greece had been years in the making. While plans were perfected, intensive conscription had swollen the hordes of the Persian army to almost a million men. A relentless force, all that now seemingly stood in the way of Xerxes’ supposed destiny was a group of 300 men, with long oiled hair and thick beards.

  Guarding a narrow passageway between the ocean and the mountains, these men blocked the only route to the southern regions of Lokris and Thessaly. Yet their presence seemed inconsequential. Countries such as Egypt and India had already bowed before Xerxes and these 300 men, armed with just wooden shields and spears, would surely yield. But the grizzled faces that peered from beneath their Corinthian helmets made it clear that, no matter the odds, they were prepared to die for their cause. Demaratus, the former Eurypontid king, would later say of the Spartans in such situations, ‘They do what the law commands and its command is always the same, not to flee in battle whatever the number of the enemy, but to stand and win, or die.’

  Almost taking pity on this supposed last stand, Xerxes offered mercy. Sending an emissary to Leonidas, the Spartans’ inspirational 60-year-old leader, Xerxes invited them to surrender by handing over their arms. Leonidas’s subsequent response has gone down in legend: ‘Come and take them.’

  This was an invitation Xerxes did not intend to decline. However, not wishing to waste the efforts of his Immortals on such infidels, he duly sent 10,000 of his second rank to finish them off. But, as the first line of Persian troops charged towards the Spartans, Leonidas suddenly ordered his men to group together. What seconds before was 300 disparate men now formed into a solid phalanx, creating a wall of shields and spears, and, with it, a ferocious fighting machine.

  Before the Persians knew what they were up against, the first line of men felt the sharp tip of the Spartan spears rip through their flesh. Up close, they then saw the unrelenting black eyes of their enemy, as they took their last breath. The Spartan spear was thrust into their body then removed and planted into the next advancing Persian, the same motion repeated again and again. And if a spear should be broken or jammed into the flesh of the enemy, a sharp sword was always close at hand, eager for the next victim. Yet the Spartans felt no remorse. As one of the world’s first elite band of fighters, they had been trained to kill since birth.

  A rugged mountainous region of Laconia, Sparta was world renowned for breeding fighters of startling obedience, resilience, intelligence and bloodthirsty ferocity. It was the only Greek state with a full-time professional army and, as such, from the moment a male took his first breath, he was trained for war. This is no exaggeration. Any male babies seen to be weak, or somehow unsuitable for the vigorous training ahead, were dropped into a pit and left for dead. The phrase ‘only the strongest survive’ has never been more apt. However, it also makes a mockery of all those slow starters in life, who go on to excel in their later years, myself included. When I was young, my mother used to put long blue ribbons in my curly hair, which led to some mistaking me for a girl. In Sparta, I surely would have been destined for the pit!

  Sentimentality was one emotion the Spartans clearly lacked. From the age of five, the young Spartan boys were thrown headl
ong into their military training. Sent away to live in barracks, any sign of weakness was instantly leapt upon and corrected. While they were trained to fight, they also had to walk everywhere barefoot, so as to harden the soles of their feet on the hard terrain, as well as to harden their resolve. The goal was to create obedient, resilient, hardened warriors, and often these young boys would go through training that would even make the men of today’s elite special forces wince.

  Once a year, the boys were taken to the Temple of Diana, where they were flogged one by one. During this flogging, they were expected to remain silent. If they cried out, this would be seen as a great source of shame. I know how they felt. In the 1950s, when I attended Eton, whenever I was beaten by the senior house prefect for a misdemeanour, I tried hard to keep my mouth shut for fear of being called a wimp.

  A grisly story, which emphasises just how seriously the Spartan boys took this, involves a young boy who smuggled a fox cub into school. Hiding it under his cloak during his first lesson, the fox’s desperate attempts to escape saw it gnaw and claw at the boy’s chest and stomach, cutting him to pieces. Yet the boy never made a sound. Before the lesson ended, he had collapsed and died, but, in the eyes of the Spartans, his honour was intact.

  To oversee their progress, each boy was allocated an older guardian, who was known as his ‘lover’. Homosexuality between the boys and their ‘lover’ was accepted, but every Spartan was expected to eventually get married. How else would the Spartans provide a constant supply of warriors for their killing factory?

  As well as learning how to fight, and how to withstand pain, food was also withheld so as to ensure the boys would become self-sufficient. In order not to starve to death, the boys were meant to forage or steal their food, without getting caught. To encourage this, the Spartans even held an annual festival where chunks of cheese were left on rocks, guarded by men wielding weapons. The boys were expected to approach with stealth and cunning if they were to get the cheese without being detected. And, while there was the threat of a beating if they were caught, there was the double bonus of food, and respect, if they were not.