by Matt Waters
Most twentieth-century discussions of Achaemenid religion focus on reconciling the strong assertions of piety in the royal inscription with no evidence that the Achaemenids forcibly compelled worship of Ahuramazda among their subjects. This seeming dichotomy led to extreme approaches, either attributing religious significance to everything the kings did or emphasizing a religious tolerance totally removed from the ideology expressed in the royal inscriptions. Either of these approaches is tricky to apply consistently. Persian royal inscriptions typically lack specificity – the Bisitun Inscription notwithstanding – and specific historical events are usually only recorded in non-Persian sources. Evidence for Persian reprisals against religious sites or groups is often ambiguous. The severity and extent of Cambyses’ purported actions against Egyptian temples remain unclear, and because that information is filtered through a hostile source (the Egyptian priesthood) via Herodotus there is much room for skepticism. In any event, there is no traceable instance of compulsory worship of Ahuramazda. The expressions of the king’s piety in the royal inscriptions are, as has been noted, standard for kings in the ancient Near East. An important corollary is the overwhelming evidence that the Achaemenid kings’ emphasis on Ahuramazda did not displace older or local gods. The Persepolis Fortification archive indicates that well over a dozen Iranian, Elamite, and Mesopotamian deities were worshipped in the core of the Empire, testimony to the continuity and compatibility of several traditions.
9 Empire at Large: From the Death of Xerxes to Darius II
The reign of Xerxes, and especially his invasion of Greece in 480–479 BCE, has always been viewed as a watershed for Greek history as well as Achaemenid historiography – the former emphasizing a historical narrative and the latter studying the historical sequence. This is not surprising, because they both involve many of the same sources. The study of subsequent Achaemenid history typifies the methodological problem so prevalent in studying Xerxes’ invasion of Greece: a disproportionate reliance on Greek source material. Royal inscriptions become fewer, shorter, and more stylized. Economic and administrative archival materials from Near Eastern sources retain their paramount importance, but the material (with a few exceptions) is more sporadic and less richly detailed than the Persepolis Fortification tablets.
Palace Intrigue and the Assassination of Xerxes
A Babylonian tablet contains reference to Xerxes death: “on the 14th day of Abu, Xerxes’ son killed him.” The terse reference is to the point and relatively precise on the time of death – by our calendar sometime in late July or early August in 465 BCE.1 For a narrative account, we must turn to the Classical tradition. Ctesias, Diodorus Siculus, and Justin all point to a plot hatched by one of Xerxes’ courtiers, a certain Artabanus (Artapanus in Ctesias), who was abetted by other high officials. No reason for the plot is given, although Justin relates a stereotyped view that Xerxes’ defeat in Greece – fifteen years earlier than his death – was somehow responsible for a serious decline in both Xerxes’ and the Empire’s fortunes, a view contradicted by more than 130 years of continued Persian rule.
Xerxes had (at least) three sons: Darius, Artaxerxes, and Hystaspes. Artabanus managed to convince Artaxerxes that Darius was responsible for the assassination. Darius was brought before Artaxerxes, who put Darius to death. Artaxerxes then foiled Artabanus’ plan to kill him as well; Artabanus was slain instead. Some scholars interpret the entire Artabanus story as an elaborate cover-up. After all, the Babylonian evidence states that Xerxes’ own son killed him. In such instances one may look to the ultimate winner for responsibility, in this case the next king, Artaxerxes. But with the record so confused, the truth cannot be ascertained.
Artaxerxes I’s inscriptions follow the previous patterns. An inscription on a silver drinking bowl lists the standard titles: great king, king of kings, and king of lands. The main emphasis is on descent within the Achaemenid line: Artaxerxes is the son of Xerxes, who was the son of Darius and, of course, an Achaemenid. Fragmentary trilingual inscriptions from Persepolis cite the same titles and, as one would expect, emphasize continuity in the building work at Persepolis. Artaxerxes finished a palace started by his father Xerxes (A1Pa). This is not only filial piety but such works were expected of any king.
Ctesias recorded a challenge from the satrap of Bactria, “another Artapanus,” whom Artaxerxes defeated (Fragment 14 §35). It is unclear whether the phrase “another Artapanus” is to be understood as someone sharing the name of Xerxes’ assassin (as relayed in the Greek tradition) or whether the satrap styled himself as another usurper bearing that name. Diodorus notes that Hystapes was the satrap of Bactria; Ctesias lists Hystaspes as one of Xerxes’ sons but offers no information on his official role. If the rebellious satrap was indeed Artaxerxes’ brother, Hystaspes, it is unclear why Ctesias would not have identified him by name. The sporadic source material does not facilitate clear historical reconstruction here. In light of the violence that marred the transition, Artaxerxes I’s recitation of his Achaemenid descent in his own inscriptions may not have simply been rote, as per standard royal ideology, but perhaps necessary. It reinforced Artaxerxes’ credentials in the confused aftermath of Xerxes’ assassination.
Reign of Artaxerxes I
The major problem that confronted Artaxerxes I in his early reign was a revolt in Egypt, dating from 464 to 454 BCE. Diodorus attributes the Egyptian revolt to the chaos surrounding Xerxes’ death. The rebellion was led by one Inaros, a dynast from the western Delta in northern Egypt. A demotic inscription from the Kharga oasis region that dates to Inaros’ second regnal year labels him “Prince of the Rebels” – an odd designation suggesting that Inaros did not take, or was not granted, the standard royal titles. Other evidence demonstrates that Inaros’ claim was not accepted everywhere. An inscription by an Egyptian official from Koptos in the Wadi Hammamat (modern Qift) is dated to the fifth year of Artaxerxes, “King of Upper and Lower Egypt” (the standard royal title), that is, the year 461, while Inaros’ revolt was underway. The dedicator names his parents: a father with a Persian name and a mother with an Egyptian one, a signal of the acculturation of the elite in the provinces.
For narratives of the rebellion, we rely mainly on Diodorus, Thucydides’ brief account, and Ctesias. Thucydides labels Inaros the son of Psammetichus, which was also the name of the king defeated by Cambyses in 525 as well as of an earlier king (from the late seventh century) who reunified Egypt after expelling rulers from Nubia (the Sudan). The filiation here may be a manufactured one, similar to the various challengers during the crisis of 522, who assumed names and filiations from illustrious predecessors to increase their legitimacy. The revolt posed a significant challenge to Artaxerxes. Inaros secured territories in northern Egypt (the Delta region) and, for roughly five years beginning in 460 or 459, received help from an Athenian naval fleet of 200 ships that had been campaigning in Cyprus. With the help of this fleet, the rebels defeated the Persian force under Artaxerxes’ uncle Achaemenes, captured territory around the northern capital of Memphis, and besieged the defeated Persian forces in a stronghold called by the Egyptians the “White Wall” and by the Greeks the “White Castle.”
A new Persian force was gathered in Cilicia and Phoenicia under the command of Megabyzus, son of Zopyrus. This army broke the siege of the White Castle and put the rebel forces to flight. The Athenian naval force became trapped on an island called Prosopitis in the western Delta. By using canals to drain the river around the island, the Persian forces were able to storm the island on foot. According to both Diodorus (11.71.3–6 and 11.77.1–5) and Ctesias (Fragment 14 §36–38), the victorious Persians allowed the Athenians a safe withdrawal from the island and from Egypt. But Thucydides’ account differs. Thucydides refers to a momentous defeat in which most of the Athenian forces were destroyed. An Athenian relief force of fifty ships, unaware of the reverse in the rebels’ fortunes, was also wiped out on their arrival in the eastern Delta (1.109–110). Thucydides’ account is given greater credence. T
he specific impact on Athens in the 450s is difficult to track, but this defeat effectively brought an end to their ambitions on Persian territory beyond Ionia and the Aegean, with the exception of one ill-fated expedition against Cyprus in 451. Inaros was betrayed and impaled, which brought a formal end to the rebellion. Other rebels held out in the western Delta – in an area where it was difficult to maintain effective control – but Persian rule of Egypt was stabilized.
Ctesias’ account of this period focuses mainly on one member of the Persian nobility: Megabyzus, son of Zopyrus and grandson of Megabyzus who was one of the Seven against Bardiya in 522.2 By the time Ctesias wrote (c. 400 BCE), only a few decades after Megabyzus’ life in the mid-fifth century, Megabyzus had become a legend in his own right, as he repeatedly proved his resilience and his nobility in the face of numerous challenges. Pained by suspicion that his wife Amytis, the daughter of Xerxes, was an adulterer, Megabyzus was nevertheless instrumental in saving Artaxerxes from Artabanus’ continued plotting after the assassination of Xerxes. Megabyzus was also instrumental in ending Inaros’ revolt by promising terms to the rebel Inaros and his Greek supporters. Yet Artaxerxes contravened Megabyzus’ promises and had Inaros put to death. Megabyzus’ distress at the King’s betrayal of his word caused him to withdraw to Syria, where he subsequently rebelled. Megabyzus defeated two armies sent against him, and only thereafter – and after much negotiation – came to terms with the King. The reconciliation was short-lived, however. During a lion hunt Megabyzus struck and killed a lion before the King – a grave offense – and Artaxerxes in his anger ordered Megabyzus beheaded. Megabyzus then fled into exile and only returned, in disguise, five years later, to once more be reconciled with the king and made a table companion (Ctesias Fragment 14 §40–43).
How to make sense of this account? Megabyzus’ revolt is not recorded in other sources. We thus have no sense of its length or magnitude. Ctesias’ allusions to armies in the hundreds of thousands follow typical exaggerations and are not credible. But if the general report of rebellion may be relied on – a question that remains in doubt – a revolt by a prominent noble, a descendant of one of the Seven, may have posed a threat to Achaemenid control.
Ezra and Nehemiah: Discontent in the Levant
The missions of the Hebrews Ezra and Nehemiah to Jerusalem, in the Persian province of Yehud (i.e., Judah), are sometimes read as evidence for a revolt in the Levant, but a number of methodological problems call that assumption into question. A mid-fifth-century date for these missions is subject to debate, partnered with questions about the sources’ reliability. Some scholars question not only the traditional composition dates of the biblical Books of Ezra and Nehemiah but also the historicity of the characters and situations portrayed therein, wondering for example, whether the circumstances portrayed are anachronistic projections into the fifth century BCE.3
The Book of Ezra begins with reference to a proclamation from Cyrus sometime after the conquest of Babylon in 539 BCE. Jewish exiles from Babylonia returned to Jerusalem and rebuilt the temple that had been sacked by the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar II in 586. References in the Books of Haggai and Zechariah indicate that the temple was dedicated early in the reign of Darius I. Governors of Judah may be traced through most of the fifth century, but the social and religious context that precipitated Ezra’s mission is unclear.
Ezra, bearing a royal letter, was sent to Jerusalem under the imprimatur of King Artaxerxes in his seventh year (7.12–26). If this was Artaxerxes I, that year was 458, although some see the passage as referring to Artaxerxes II and thus date the mission to his seventh year, 398. The authenticity of this letter (the so-called “Artaxerxes Rescript”) is debated. It includes instructions to the royal treasurers of the province to provide Ezra silver and supplies with which to arrange proper sacrifices like those performed before the temple’s sack. Another component of Ezra’s mission was the charge to appoint judges and officials who would enforce “the laws of your god” (7.25–26). Most scholars take this to mean the Mosaic law code, even if they differ on the extent of its implementation. Did it apply only in Judah? Or did it apply to all Jews living in the satrapy of Trans-Euphrates? (That region was also called “Beyond the River” – the regions west of the Euphrates.) Ezra’s mission provides a compelling example of local autonomy under the aegis of the King’s law. The former could be granted as long as it did not contravene the latter.
Cyrus’ edict may contain echoes of a building inscription, one marking the reconstruction of the temple and including the repatriation of the original temple vessels plundered by Nebuchadnezzar (Ezra 1.7–11). The reasons for the exiles’ return and the attendant grants are unclear. Some modern works trumpet Achaemenid tolerance of other belief systems. Such tolerance may well have been actual practice, but it was contingent on submission to the central political authority. Some view Cyrus’ initial move in strategic terms. In returning the Jewish exiles to Jerusalem, Cyrus may have been establishing a base for operations against Egypt. Other motives could be postulated. In any event, one result of the return was a significant increase in the number of priests and the development of a citizen-temple community in Jerusalem, one that developed a quasi-independence from both the local provincial authority and the imperial one. At the risk of understatement, this led to problems.
Nehemiah held an official position within the Achaemenid hierarchy, that of governor (Hebrew pe), subordinate to the satrap who was probably based in Damascus. In 445, Nehemiah was dispatched to deal with a number of serious problems in Jerusalem and surrounding areas. The cause of these problems is not known, although if Ezra’s mission may be dated before Nehemiah’s, then some of the problems were likely related to the context of Ezra’s mission. Armed with several royal dispatches, Nehemiah was able to garner supplies for his own use and to implement major projects: a citadel and the fortification of the city walls (2.1–10). Nehemiah established a garrison, conducted a census, and supported efforts to restore the temple rituals. In 433, after twelve years, he returned to the King. During his mission Nehemiah was accompanied by one Pethahiah, identified as a royal commissioner. Nehemiah was clearly trusted, but an extra level of bureaucracy – in the person of Pethahiah – helped to ensure adherence to the King’s commands.
Unsurprisingly, the King’s commands involved maintaining the political and social order. Nehemiah’s establishment of fortifications at royal behest has generated a variety of interpretations in modern scholarship. Were these meant to reassert Persian control, in conjunction with a garrison, as perhaps a reaction to internal strife? Or were they reflective of the city’s increased size and status? It seems clear from the Book of Nehemiah that the people were immersed in a bitter internal conflict. What brought the province to such straits is never explained, although allusions to usury and a high level of indentured servitude imply a widening social gap. Internal instability, left unchecked, might magnify and spread. Nehemiah appears to have been chosen as the King’s agent to resolve these problems, but he encountered resistance from vested interests in the province.
When the social unrest manifest in the Book of Nehemiah is juxtaposed with the garbled accounts of a revolt by Megabyzus (see discussion earlier in this chapter), a correlation of the two is tempting, even reasonable. Yet there is no shortage of problems even beyond the chronological difficulties. The biblical material offers no indication of a widespread revolt, as Ctesias recounted. In light of the (relatively) rich documentation, this is surprising. It is no simple task to connect Megabyzus’ revolt to the internal squabbles between Judah and its immediate neighbors.
Revisiting the Northwestern Front: Persian-Greek Interchange
Given the continued Athenian success in the Aegean for several decades, and the thin historical record, it is easy to lose sight of the Persian threat. It was revealed occasionally by the activities and ambitions of the satraps in Asia Minor, especially at Sardis (Lydia) and Dascylium (Hellespontine Phrygia). How long did the question that m
ust have dogged them after 479 BCE – “Are the Persians coming back?” – continue to do so?
In 451 the Athenians sent an expedition to Cyprus, the particulars and point of which remain unclear. Any long-term Athenian designs on the island seem unlikely, because Athens did not have the resources for sustained imperial pursuits. Perhaps we should simply attribute the campaign against Cyprus to the Delian League’s stated purpose, which was, according to Thucydides, to ravage the King’s territories (1.96) and thereby afflict some retribution for the Persian invasion of Greece. Thucydides’ account of the expedition (1.112) is here, as elsewhere for the years between 480–430, extremely terse. The Athenian Cimon won battles at sea and on land, but his death, together with supply problems, forced Athenian withdrawal. Diodorus’ account has more detail but is also more problematic: the Cypriot cities of Kition and Marion were taken, but the siege of Salamis was unsuccessful (12.3.2–4). Diodorus ties the end of the expedition not to logistical problems but to a peace treaty with Persia.
This treaty, called the Peace of Callias after the Athenian ambassador sent to Susa to negotiate it, is one of the most contentious historiographic problems for the mid-fifth century. Its date, its terms, and its very historicity are all questioned. The particulars of the treaty are mentioned in various late sources and preserved by Diodorus.
