The Poison King: The Life and Legend of Mithradates, Rome's Deadliest Enemy

by Adrienne Mayor

  FIG. 6.3. Inscription found on the island of Chios listing victors in equestrian and chariot events. Mithradates’ name appears four times.

  A well-known “inconvenience of greatness” is that toadies are drawn to power as iron filings cling to a lodestone. Mithradates was surrounded by opportunists and flatterers. One man in particular, a conjurer named Sosipater, has come down in history as the most shameless sycophant in Mithradates’ court. During times when the king was beset by doubts and suspicion, sycophants swooped in, accusing others of plotting against the king. Plutarch, who wrote an essay on how to distinguish friends from flatterers, remarked that some of Mithradates’ courtiers were so keen to curry favor that they would offer themselves as guinea pigs for his medical experiments.5

  Mithradates sponsored drinking contests in Sinope, offering a fabulous prize—one talent of silver—to the winner. A popular athlete from Cyzicus, Kalomodrys, nearly matched Mithradates’ capacity for wine. The king himself usually won, gallantly awarding the honors to the runner-up. There were gargantuan eating competitions too. But no one could surpass Mithradates in his ability to devour platter after platter loaded with slabs of meat and bread. Mithradates even earned a place (number eight) in antiquity’s Top Twelve Gluttons of All Time! Half of the men on the list hailed from Anatolia, where eating and drinking vast quantities was a folk tradition demonstrating wealth and manly vigor. Mithradates’ massive physique and energy may have accounted for a huge appetite, but his capacity also harked back to his ancestors. Darius I boasted of his ability to hold his liquor as one of his great achievements. And people still shook their heads in awe over Alexander’s ability to imbibe two dozen toasts to his companions’ health in one night—and his vicious two-day hangovers after rowdy drinking bouts with his hard-living Macedonians.6

  When he was not chariot racing, or showing off his superior strength and cast-iron constitution, Mithradates was recruiting soldiers for Pontus’s expanding army. A serious scholar of military history, he studied the strategies and tactics of famous commanders. Mithradates and his engineers attached scythe blades to his war chariot axles, a long-forgotten innovation of Cyrus the Great. To toughen his infantrymen, cavalry soldiers, and chariot drivers, Mithradates ordered all to participate with him in rigorous daily calisthenics and field exercises. “Like King Mithradates himself,” wrote Justin, “his army became inured to hardship and invincible. Soon, he had created an unbeatable military force.” Mithradates had gathered the intelligence he needed about his neighbors, and a large, capable army stood ready. It was time to complete his Black Sea Empire by taking over Cappadocia, Bithynia, and Paphlagonia. But this would entail direct confrontation with Rome.7

  BITHYNIA

  Sometime in 108–104 BC, Mithradates made an alliance with the crafty King Nicomedes III of Bithynia. Nicomedes, like his father, had been an ally of Rome. But, after Bithynia had helped to suppress Aristonicus’s revolt, its request for part of Phrygia was denied in favor of Mithradates’ father. So Nicomedes III had good reasons to resent Pontus, and he was adept at treading the diplomatic tightrope with Rome.

  FIG. 6.4. Mithradates’ nemesis Nicomedes of Bithynia (similar portraits were used for Nicomedes III and IV). 1944.100.41904, bequest of E. T. Newell, courtesy of the American Numismatic Society.

  When the Roman commander Gaius Marius requested troops from Bithynia to help subdue Germany, Nicomedes’ bold retort had made a good impression on Mithradates. Nicomedes declared that he had no army to send because all of Bithynia’s free men had fallen into debt and were sold into slavery by greedy Roman tax collectors. This reply had forced the Senate to pass a law forbidding the enslavement of the free citizens of Rome’s allies.

  Mithradates’ alliance with Nicomedes was well timed: Roman armies were spread thin, embroiled in war with King Jugurtha of Numidia and staving off the Germanic tribes. Mithradates and Nicomedes agreed to invade weak Paphlagonia. All went smoothly. But when the news reached Rome, the Senate sent ambassadors demanding the restoration of Paphlagonia’s king. In a defiant retort, Mithradates asserted that Paphlagonia had actually belonged to his father by inheritance. I’m surprised, Mithradates claimed, that Rome would question this now, since they had never doubted my father’s right to Paphlagonia before. Taken aback by this arrogant response, the ambassadors failed to call Mithradates’ bluff, and turned to Nicomedes.

  Nicomedes took a sneakier tack. He contritely promised to restore Paphlagonia to its rightful ruler. Then he renamed one of his own sons with the traditional name of ancient Paphlagonian kings: Pylaemenes. Nicomedes boldly installed this pseudo-Pylaemenes on the throne. The Romans were tricked into approving this new king. When they finally figured out the ruse, the embarrassed Roman dignitaries hurried home. Nicomedes III emerged as the real ruler of Paphlagonia.

  Mithradates, impressed by Nicomedes’ slick trick, responded by seizing part of Galatia. He built a major fortress there, Mithradateion. Meanwhile, he considered his options in Cappadocia.8

  MURDER IN CAPPADOCIA

  Cappadocia was ruled by Mithradates’ older sister Laodice, through her husband, King Ariathes VI. They had two sons (confusingly, both boys were also named Ariathes, reflecting their Persian blood). According to the historian Appian, the original kings of Cappadocia and Pontus had shared a royal bloodline, and Mithradates the First had possessed both Galatia and Cappadocia. This history had justified Mithradates’ father’s indirect control of Galatia and Cappadocia, and Mithradates intended to do the same.

  Gordius, a Cappadocian noble in Laodice’s court, was Mithradates’ good friend. Presumably, it was Gordius who informed Mithradates that Laodice’s young husband was beginning to assert himself. An independentminded Ariathes was troublesome for both Laodice and Mithradates. Mithradates gave Gordius orders to eliminate King Ariathes VI. We are not told the means, but poison comes to mind. This favor made Mithradates’ older sister Laodice the regent for her firstborn son, Ariathes VII, Mithradates’ nephew. With this move, Mithradates expected to manipulate Cappadocia—provided his sister cooperated with him.9

  But the ploy backfired. After Gordius’s murder of Ariathes VI, the devious Nicomedes III of Bithynia saw an opening. Without informing Mithradates, his ally, Nicomedes suddenly invaded Cappadocia (ca. 103/ 102 BC). Taken by surprise, Mithradates rushed with his army to rescue his sister. But when he arrived, he discovered that the resourceful widow Laodice had agreed to marry Nicomedes. His sister in bed with that odious backstabber! It occurred to Mithradates that she had probably invited Nicomedes to “invade.” This unexpected alliance meant that she and Nicomedes would manage Cappadocia together, through her pliable son Ariathes VII.

  Mithradates quickly shifted gears. He proceeded with the rescue mission to place his nephew Ariathes on the Cappadocian throne. In the battle, Mithradates overcame Nicomedes’ army and sent him and Laodice packing, back to Bithynia. Mithradates’ nephew, Ariathes VII, became the new boy-king of Cappadocia. The young man’s portrait was included in Mithradates’ circle of friends in the Delos Monument. But the inexperienced young prince needed a handler, if Mithradates was to control Cappadocia indirectly, without arousing the Roman Senate. Uncle Mithradates suggested that his nephew invite Gordius—the murderer of the youth’s own father—to be his adviser! Young Ariathes VII recognized the trap. If he accepted Gordius, he would become an expendable puppet. If he refused, Uncle Mithradates would have a pretext for war. Ariathes refused and resolutely led his army onto the battlefield.

  Foiled again! Not only had the boy inherited Laodicean defiance from his mother and grandmother, but Mithradates’ spies reported that Nicomedes was sending support. His scheme thwarted, Mithradates now faced a dubious outcome in battle with a stubborn teenager. Exasperated, Mithradates drew up his formidable army: 80,000 infantrymen, 10,000 cavalry, and 600 scythed chariots. These numbers are likely somewhat exaggerated; still, Mithradates’ impressive forces demonstrate his wealth and popularity. But how he hated to waste his army to ach
ieve what should have been a bloodless takeover. Mithradates prepared another decisive plan of action.

  He sent for his eight-year-old stepson, his dead wife Laodice’s bastard. What happened next was reported by Justin in graphic detail, perhaps because there were so many witnesses. Relying on Justin’s vivid account, we need only fill in a few minor details and the scene takes on a cinematic quality.10

  At sunrise, the two armies marched out on the battleground. We hear the clink of weapons being readied and war banners snapping in the wind. Suddenly, King Mithradates strides out to a hillock between the armies, visible to all. He calls for a meeting on the middle ground with his nephew. Mithradates ostentatiously lays down his bow and arrows, his javelins, and unbuckles his sword. Ariathes, suspicious, sends a guard over to search his uncle for concealed weapons. The soldier nervously begins to pat down Mithradates from his powerful shoulders to his leather boots. As the man’s hands grope Mithradates’ trousers “somewhat too attentively,” the king interrupts with a crude joke: “Watch out! You might find a weapon quite different from what you are seeking!” The guard backs off, flummoxed.

  Ariathes approaches the grassy knoll between the armies where Mithradates stands alone, smiling pleasantly. The supporters and soldiers in the front ranks on each side look on, tense, silent. Mithradates takes his nephew’s arm, asking him for a private word. As they turn to walk together, Mithradates quickly reaches into his trousers and pulls out a stiletto concealed alongside his penis. With one brutal stroke, the blade slices the young man’s throat.

  Mithradates reaches down to pick up his dead nephew’s crown from the dust. Walking in a stately fashion over to the terrified young boy on the sidelines, he places the crown with a flourish on his head and shouts out his new name: All hail Ariathes, King of Cappadocia! On cue, grim Gordius steps forward and leads the dazed new ruler of Cappadocia away. Shocked at the pantomime of violent succession they have just witnessed, and now with no king to fight for, the real Ariathes’ commanders and men fell into confusion and impotence. In only one other instance would Mithradates violently kill a man in public for the shock value.

  Gordius’s rule, with Mithradates’ stepson Ariathes, was popular in Cappadocia. But a few years later, in about 96 BC, Nicomedes III staged a revolt. He had sent for the younger brother of the murdered king. This hapless pawn was hailed as Ariathes VIII. Mithradates dispatched his army and quelled the rebellion. What happened to Ariathes VIII? The story was that the boy died of “a disease brought on by grief.” Mithradates’ bastard son, now dubbed Ariathes IX, continued to rule with Gordius as the true power behind the throne.11

  Meanwhile, Mithradates opened lines of communication with the anti-Roman rebels in Italy, courted the Danube Gauls, and showered the northern nomads with largesse. He was a beloved patron of the Greeks and sent embassies to North Africa, Egypt, and Parthia. He also dispatched envoys bearing gifts to Rome. The historian Diodorus characterized these as “large sums of money with which to bribe the Senate.” At any rate, his envoys, philosopher-statesmen from Anatolia, were gravely insulted by officials in Rome—a capital offense in Roman diplomacy, as Mithradates knew. His ambassadors immediately pressed charges in a public trial.12

  Mithradates was consolidating his holdings and expanding his influence, although both Nicomedes III’s cleverness and Roman retaliation would soon test the solidarity of his empire. Not long after murdering his nephew Ariathes, Mithradates had a chance to meet one of the most famous representatives of Roman power in person.

  A PARLEY WITH MARIUS

  In about 99/98 BC, Gaius Marius, the great plebeian war hero struggling to maintain his power in Rome, arrived in Anatolia. His Popular faction had just lost an election amid a murderous uprising inside the city. Old clan feuds were erupting into violence; it was the beginning of the bloody civil wars that would consume Rome for the next two generations. Leaving his loyal army of veterans behind, Marius sailed to Cappadocia and Galatia.

  Marius, about fifty-eight, more than twenty years older than Mithradates, was a tough, courageous leader, beloved by his soldiers. He dug trenches, ate rations, and slept on the ground like them. Marius had served with distinction in Spain and Africa, and in Germany his legions had slaughtered more than 300,000 and enslaved more than 150,000 people. In physical strength, military skill, and ruthlessness, Marius was a Roman whom Mithradates could admire and learn from.

  Mithradates would have been eager to hear Marius’s version of the capture of Jugurtha, rebel king of Numidia. There were reports that the ambitious patrician officer Lucius Cornelius Sulla was taking all the credit for Marius’s victory in North Africa. Sulla was now in Rome with his own army, poised to seize total power. Civil war between these two bitter foes—the older Marius and his one-time protégé Sulla—loomed. The two enemies were vying to win command of the army that the Senate would soon have to send to subdue Mithradates. Would it be Marius or Sulla who would become his greatest challenge?

  Marius claimed he had come to fulfill a sacred vow, to consult the oracle of the great Anatolian mother goddess Cybele in her sanctuary at Pessinus. Like most great Roman and other leaders of his day, Marius was not only personally superstitious; he also grasped the value of religion in politics. As a boy, Marius had rescued some baby eaglets; his soothsayers interpreted this as a sign that he would achieve supreme authority in Rome. In Libya, an omen of two scorpions fighting had allowed him to escape death. Marius was always accompanied by a covey of Etruscan augurs who interpreted portents, and he was not above creating his own positive omens on campaigns. In Germany, for example, his soldiers captured a pair of vultures, fed them well, and then fitted them with bronze collars. The tame raptors could always be seen soaring above Marius’s armies. The idea that Marius’s vultures would soon feast on dead Germans made his men confident of victory.

  FIG. 6.5. Marius Meditates on the Ruins of Carthage, J. Vanderlyn, engraving, 1842.

  In the turbulent years just before Marius’s trip, frightening omens of flaming spears and shields in the heavens were observed over Italy. In 104 BC, Roman seers reported that “weapons in the sky had suddenly rushed together from east and west, and those from the east overcame those of the west.” During his meeting with Marius, Mithradates may have conversed in Aramaic about these omens with Marius’s Syrian prophetess, Martha. She had been discovered at the gladiatorial games in Rome, accurately predicting which men would be victors. Now Marius claimed that he “followed Martha’s advice in all undertakings.” She accompanied him everywhere, carried in a fancy litter by tall slaves from her own native Syria. Dressed in a crimson robe fastened with a golden brooch and waving a little spear decorated with ribbons, Martha directed Marius’s theatrical religious sacrifices.13

  If Mithradates was eager to learn about Marius, so, too, Marius sought to know more about the king of Pontus. From his seers and Martha of Syria, Marius was aware of the oracles surrounding Mithradates’ birth. He wanted to meet this ambitious, popular ruler and gauge his character, figure out his intentions. For Marius had really come to investigate the Cappadocian situation. How imminent was war? How could Marius arrange to win glory in the conflict already brewing over Mithradates’ growing power?

  This was Mithradates’ first face-to-face audience with a charismatic Roman warlord. Both leaders were consumed with curiosity yet eager to appear strong and confident.14 Mithradates received Marius “with great attention and respect.” With his ramrod posture, permanent scowl, and commanding voice, Marius was an imperious presence. His deep distrust of aristocratic luxury and erudition was well known; Mithradates could shift into a rustic, soldierly persona for the parley. Perhaps they met on the royal exercise grounds. Marius was proud of his expertise with weapons and his horsemanship; he exercised daily with much younger soldiers. Mithradates loved to show off as well—they were well matched, and in another life they might have been friends.

  The tough old warrior’s parting words to Mithradates are famous: “Either make y
ourself stronger than the Romans, or obey them!” Modern historians are divided on the subtle meaning of Marius’s imperative. Was this a friendly warning? Was Marius daring Mithradates to take on Rome? Marius’s stern sound bite was reported in Rome and enhanced his stature in the Senate.15

  The face value of Marius’s message was banal. “Overcome or surrender” could be standard advice for anyone, anytime. As both men well knew, “Be stronger or submit” also applied to Marius’s own position vis-à-vis Rome and his enemy Sulla. Mithradates’ calculated actions so far showed that he already intended to become so strong that he would never have to obey Rome. Sizing each other up, weighing the other’s steel will, each man privately acknowledged the truth behind the cliché: there was no middle way for either man. But were they destined to be friends or foes? We cannot replay the body language, facial expressions, tone of voice, or gestures that must have conveyed so much at this meeting. I imagine that as the simple sentence was uttered, the two men locked eyes in perfect understanding.

  FACE-OFF WITH ROME

  Thanks to the interference of Nicomedes III, the Cappadocian circus began spinning out of Mithradates’ control, inciting the anger of Rome, dashing Mithradates’ preference for oblique action. When Laodice’s younger son, Ariathes VIII, died of “grief” and Mithradates secured Cappadocia, Nicomedes feared that Mithradates would turn on Bithynia next. To incite the Romans against Mithradates, Nicomedes and Laodice found a handsome young man and slyly coached him to pretend to be a “lost third son” of the murdered King Ariathes VI, Laodice’s previous husband. Laodice accompanied this new impostor to Rome and won an audience with the Senate, as queen of Bithynia and Cappadocia. Laodice swore that this youth was her son and the rightful heir of Cappadocia.