The Poison King

by Adrienne Mayor

  So, not long after he reclaimed his crown, when he was about twenty-one, Mithradates wed his own sister. But Mithradates carried the logic of sibling marriage to an eccentric—and egocentric—degree. If no other family was grand enough to marry into such a distinguished royal line, then who was worthy to marry his other sisters? Only Mithradates. And what if Laodice the Younger did not give him sons?

  To control the genetic legacy of his family and in case he might need to marry another sister later, Mithradates, the ancient sources state, decided to keep his younger sisters—Nyssa, Roxana, and Statira—virgins forever. They would never produce troublesome pretenders. Spinsterhood was almost unheard-of in antiquity, except for virgin priestesses. Like Rapunzel in her tower, the three sisters were totally secluded under guard for life, but no fairy-tale prince ever rescued them. This decision to lock away his young sisters is one of the earliest indicators of Mithradates’ cruel, calculating side. As we shall see, all of Mithradates’ siblings met wretched fates, victims of their brother’s extraordinary pride and paranoia.

  QUIRKS OF THE KING

  There were other eccentricities. Mithradates’ childish obsessions with invincibility matured and intensified. Like mad King Attalus of Pergamon, Mithradates cultivated poison gardens of blue monkshood, polemonia (“plant of a thousand powers”), deadly nightshade, henbane, and the like, with his Greek “root-cutter” Krateuas, also of Pergamon. The first ethnobotanist and the father of botanical illustration, the Poison King’s fellow experimenter, Krateuas wrote two influential treatises that were among the king’s treasures brought to Rome after Mithradates’ death. The natural historian Pliny the Elder (AD 23–79) described these books, now lost. One was the first to include realistic colored paintings of hundreds of medicinal plants; the other was a detailed pharmacology manual. Mithradates “was the first to discover several different antidotes to poisons,” noted Pliny, and “some of these plants even bear Mithradates’ name.” Krateuas named several plants after his patron—for example, pink Mithridatia (liliaceous Erythronium) and feathery-leaved Eupatorium.4

  Krateuas collaborated with the royal physician Papias and a team of healers. The ancient authors say Mithradates was always accompanied by a group of shamans from a Scythian tribe north of the Sea of Azov, called the Agari. Many in the court must have found these shamans frightening, but the weird snake charmers knew how to transform viper venom into medicine (a feat only recently discovered by modern medicine). They could also have known the secrets of poisonous agaric mushrooms, named for the Agari region in Scythia.5

  Mithradates tended flocks of Pontic ducks, feeding them the baneful plants they preferred and harvesting their eggs, blood, and flesh for his experiments. Hoping to exploit their “ability to live on poisons,” Mithradates “mixed the blood of the Pontic ducks into his antidotes,” wrote Pliny.6 It’s likely that Mithradates’ medicinal gardens were in secret locations at several royal residences. In his laboratories, under heavy guard, the Poison King would have stocked a variety of deadly minerals and biotoxins—arrow drugs, crystallized snake venoms, stingray spines and jellyfish, scorpions from Mesopotamia and Libya, poison fish from Armenia, poisonous plants and toadstools, rhododendron honey, realgar and other toxic pigments—along with alexipharmic antidotes from near and far.

  These royal treasures seem very different from the tributes collected by Mithradates’ royal ancestors. They prized such things as water from the Danube and sand from Egypt, to advertise the vast reach of their kingdoms. But Persian kings also kept exotic poisons in their treasuries. The Roman natural historian Aelian described dreadful—and rare—natural biotoxins that could be obtained from India. One poison, derived from Purple Snake (Azemiops) venom, was so lethal that a drop the size of a sesame seed would kill.

  The most prized Indian poison was the mysterious dikairon, said to be excreted by a tiny orange “bird” that nested in the Himalayas. A few grains of dikairon, it was said, would bring a dreamy death in a few hours, ideal for suicide. I have suggested elsewhere that dikairon might have been pederin, exuded by large orange blister beetles of Asia, often found in bird nests. It is one of the most powerful biotoxins known to modern science, more potent than cobra venom. According to Aelian, this precious substance was “given exclusively by the kings of India to the kings of Persia.” Mithradates may have acquired some for his own pharmacy.7

  Mithradates collected scientific treatises on pharmaka and corresponded with scholars about poisons and antidotes. His linguistic talents meant he could decipher scientific texts in many languages, from Old Persian to Sanskrit. It is quite possible that Mithradates obtained copies of ancient Hindu texts, such as the Arthashastra by Kautilya, adviser to King Chandragupta in the time of Alexander. This manual spelled out numerous recipes for creating poisons and antidotes. Another Hindu treatise, the Laws of Manu (500 BC), not only advised maharajas to employ tasters, but also counseled them to “mix all their food with medicines that are antidotes against poisons.”8 Was it this ancient Indian concept that led King Attalus—and Mithradates—to “mix tiny amounts of poisons with remedies” to protect themselves and their friends? We’ll never know, but it was Mithradates who gained notoriety for applying scientific methodology to this ancient principle. Experimenting tirelessly to perfect his universal antidote, Mithradates started each day by ingesting the best concoction he and his doctors had devised so far (see plate 4).

  Another eccentricity was Mithradates’ appearance. One of the few Hellenistic kings to wear his hair long, Mithradates sported a curly mane that recalled Alexander’s. It was also a strong political statement. Long hair for men in this era was distinctly un-Roman, a “barbarian” attribute.9 The king maintained his youthful habit of wearing old-fashioned royal Persian costume—long-sleeved tunic of white linen edged in purple over trousers gathered at the ankle. Mithradates was a connoisseur of agate rings, and his simple diadem of purple and white ribbon may have been complemented with golden earrings. And everyone understood that Mithradates was always armed, even inside the palace at banquets. No one could ignore his impressive dagger, lying along his thigh at all times.

  FIG. 5.3. Mithradates’ Persian-style garments may have been similar those of his contemporary Antiochus I of Commagene (69–43 BC) (left) on tomb at Nemrud Dagh (modern Turkey), wearing Greek and Persian clothing—Persian tiara and crown, Greek cloak, Persian riding tunic studded with stars, Persian trousers. He accepts the symbol of sovereignty from the Sun god Mithra-Ahuramazda holding a Zoroastrian barsom, a wand of myrtle twigs, wearing the traditional Phrygian-Persian cap decorated with stars (this “liberty cap” became a symbol of freedom in the Roman era). (Right) King Darius I, sixth-century BC, in Persian khilat or robe of honor embroidered with medallions, trousers, and a tiara-crown. Dover.

  Mithradates would have favored a curved Persian-style dagger or short sword (acinaces; Old Persian, akinaka; Latin, sica) like those of his Iranian ancestors. Xenophon described the short dagger carried by Cyrus the Great. By Mithradates’ day, the sica, scimitar, had become associated with pirates and bandits (dubbed sicarii by the Romans). A crescent blade still carries a swashbuckling cachet today. Mithradates’ dagger was probably about sixteen inches long, keenly sharp on both edges, with a short cross-guard and a hilt encrusted with jewels. Recalling the ring with the secret poison that saved Hannibal from Roman captivity and execution, Mithradates had his sword maker customize his dagger. We are told that the hilt had a removable pommel and a hollow compartment for poison. The ornate scabbard hung from a richly decorated belt, at Mithradates’ right hip. This was a thrusting, stabbing blade that could be drawn blade-down in a surprise attack. It was widely known that the great Alexander had murdered two enemies bare-handed with a similar dagger.10

  The king wore his dagger while dining with friends, and the cold blade rested under the silk cushions whenever he slept or took pleasure in bed with Laodice or one of his lovers. He owned other personal weaponry, too, of course: wicked short knives
that could be concealed on his body, javelins for hunting and war, and his bow and arrows. Everyone noticed that Mithradates’ bow and quiver were always hanging where he could see and reach them.

  These precautions, like the phobia about poisoning, reflected a justifiable need for self-defense since childhood. Popular stories exaggerated Mithradates’ reputation for hypervigilance. One tale claimed that he was so paranoid that he devised a bizarre zoological alarm system to protect himself while asleep. The king’s slumber was guarded by a stag, a horse, and a bull. Staked around his tent on campaigns, these animal bodyguards were trained to detect the breathing of anyone who approached and alerted him with a clamorous alarm—bleating, whinnying, and bellowing. The image is amusing, yet not inconceivable when one remembers that a gaggle of noisy geese guarded the Capitol in Rome.11

  When he was a baby, lightning had burned Mithradates’ cradle, scarring his forehead. Early in his reign, he survived another lightning strike. This time it struck his quiver, hanging beside his bed, burning up the arrows. The royal seers were summoned. According to Plutarch, they pronounced this an excellent omen, foretelling that his archers would win important victories.12

  PRIORITIES

  In exile, Mithradates had pondered strategies as ruler of Pontus. The first priority was to reverse the damages done by his mother to Pontus’s military strength and economic independence. The next step was to restore and extend the territory and status that his father had gained. He had to avoid becoming a Roman satellite. The Senate’s removal of Greater Phrygia from Pontic control (116 BC) had enraged Mithradates. How dare they take what belonged to Pontus, an official Friend of Rome?

  Through cunning diplomacy, intrigue, and judiciously applied military might, Mithradates planned to solidify alliances and expand his influence in the entire Black Sea region. Roman foreign policy was unstable, with civil unrest and slave revolts in Italy and crises in Germany, Spain, and North Africa, all demanding military commitments. Mithradates intended to make his Kingdom of Greater Pontus powerful enough to stand up to the aggressive, treacherous Romans. But it had to happen without attracting their attention.

  Could he convince Rome to share power, to be content with hegemony in the West, while he, the divinely anointed King Mithradates, ruled the East? Other powerful leaders before Mithradates—Hannibal, Antiochus the Great, Jugurtha—had attempted to negotiate or grapple with Rome as equals, or at least to achieve a kind of equilibrium, but Rome could tolerate no other superpowers. Yet, as he observed the crises engulfing the Republic from his vantage point in Pontus, Mithradates hoped to convince the Romans that it was in their best interest to withdraw from Anatolia, to confine their empire to what they already possessed in the western Mediterranean, Europe, and North Africa, while he—the rightful inheritor of the great Macedonian-Persian kingdom, ruled Greece, the Black Sea, and the Near East.

  Mithradates’ early reign was marked by a series of rapid and brilliant conquests. The precise chronology is debated, but within the first two decades Mithradates tripled the territory of Pontus, winning important resources and allies. He tamed the “wild” Scythians and intervened to control or ally with neighboring kingdoms around the Black Sea. The ancient sources offer some historical landmarks, but it is up to us to guess how these events unfolded. How, for example, did Mithradates manage to deflect Rome’s disapproval of his actions, turning their reactions to his own advantage? How was he able to entice the Romans to play the aggressor, while he accrued power and attracted followers? What were his long-range plans? How would he orchestrate the unavoidable showdown with Rome?

  First, Mithradates needed to learn everything he could about the Republic’s recent history and current situation. Who were the most powerful men in Rome, the rising stars? How much manpower could Rome afford to post to the Asian Province? What weaknesses could be exploited? Upon his arrival in Sinope, we know that Mithradates recalled his father’s advisers and gathered informants to help him assess the situation across the Mediterranean. His most trusted adviser was his boyhood companion, Dorylaus. As the highest-ranking military officer and chief of the royal bodyguards, Dorylaus was a key member of the “King’s Friends,” an inner circle of Greeks, Anatolians, Persians, and foreign allies from all social ranks. Dorylaus was now also high priest of the Temple of Love at Comana Pontica, a lucrative, luxurious posting that automatically made him second in command.

  A mutilated portrait of Dorylaus, inscribed with his name and titles, was discovered by French archaeologists in the 1930s. It was one of twelve marble busts of the King’s Friends displayed in the Mithradates Monument on the island of Delos. A statue of Mithradates undoubtedly stood in the center. In the eighteenth century, a badly damaged marble head and torso from a larger-than-life statue, made in about 100 BC, had been found in the Inopus streambed beside the Mithradates Monument. The identity of the idealized king, wearing a metal diadem and draped in a cloak, was debated. The statue is now thought to portray Mithradates; the features strongly resemble his portraits on coins of this period (see fig. 5.1).13

  From the inscriptions inside the monument, archaeologists identified ten of the twelve friends and allies that Mithradates wished to publicize. The frieze of busts is unique because it was the first public monument from antiquity to depict Greeks and Persians (as well as Syrians and Parthians) as colleagues, and it proves that Mithradates was allied with Syria and Parthia at an early date. The labeled portraits—which might have been realistically painted—were Dorylaus; Gaius son of Hermaeus; Mithradates’ private secretary, son of Antipater (name defaced); Papias son of Menophilus (Mithradates’ physician); Asclepiodorus of Delos (father of a priest); Diophantus (Mithradates’ general who subdued Scythia); two unnamed officials from the Arsacid Kingdom of Parthia; King Ariathes VII of Cappadocia (Mithradates’ young nephew, son of his older sister Laodice); and King Antiochus VIII Grypos (“Hook-Nose”), the last Seleucid king of Syria. Grypos, a fascinating figure, and Mithradates had much in common. Grypos, too, had mastered poisons at a young age, after his older brother was poisoned by his scheming mother. Around the time that Mithradates was evading his own mother’s plots (about 125 BC), Grypos was reclaiming his throne by tricking his mother into drinking a goblet of poison that she had prepared for him.14

  The Mithradates Monument, dedicated in 102/101 BC, on behalf of the Roman People, Delos, and the Athenians, shows how popular Mithradates was in Greece. He was also considered a Friend of Rome: the monument included a statue of Mithradates dressed—improbably—as a Roman legionary. The head is missing, but the inscription identifies it as Mithradates. The statue may have been a mass-produced body in legionnaire garb topped with a head of Mithradates, a common expedient in an era when the fortunes of Rome’s “friends” fluctuated wildly.15

  MEANWHILE IN ROME

  The chaotic, blood-soaked events in the last decades of the Roman Republic, before, during, and after the Mithradatic Wars, have been extensively described by modern historians, based on multiple histories and commentaries by ancient Roman authors. Since we are in Pontus with Mithradates, looking through his eyes, relying on his spies, informants, and advisers, and their interpretations of events, this section considers what he could have known about Roman history and current events, and identifies significant individuals destined to tangle with Mithradates.16

  Among Greek and Persian-influenced cultures, Rome was viewed as a brash, uncivilized newcomer, dangerous and powerful but with an impoverished cultural history—even their language seemed crude and rigid compared to Greek. And Rome’s worst enemies could not have invented a more negative origin story. Mithradates understood how easy it was to turn their sacred myth about the fierce lupa, she-wolf, who nurtured Romulus and Remus, into lurid propaganda against the Romans. According to the Romans’ own myth, the she-wolf’s children were murderers: Romulus killed his own brother, and the first Romans were violent fugitives and rapists. Anyone who knew Latin could joke that lupa was slang for “whore.”

&nbs
p; In antiquity, wolves were feared as bloodthirsty marauders, killers of flocks. Rome’s opponents in Italy and the provinces often cited the old proverb “You Romans send as guardians of your flocks, not dogs or shepherds, but wolves.” As early as the fifth century BC, indigenous Italians had likened the Romans to crazed wolves. Later in his reign, Mithradates would ally with Italian rebels, who declared war on the Roman Wolf, vowing to destroy its “lair,” the city of Rome. The rebels issued coins showing the Italian Bull goring the Roman Wolf. Archaeologists have also discovered gold Italian coins similar to Mithradates’ Pontic coins, showing Dionysus, an allusion to Mithradates’ nickname and a symbol of rebellion against Rome.17

  Mithradates studied Roman history, from a Greek and Anatolian perspective, of course. These views can be glimpsed in the writings of Strabo, a native of Pontus. Strabo pointed out that the Romans had “enlarged their own country by the dismemberment of that of others,” a policy that led to frequent revolts. Ancient Greek historians and philosophers hostile to Rome argued that if Alexander had lived, there would be no Roman Empire, a view that surely influenced Mithradates. He attracted many philosophers and statesmen to his entourage, among them Pelopidas, Xenocles, Diodorus of Adramyttion, and Metrodorus of Scepsis (near ancient Troy). An inventor of memory devices and a dazzling new rhetorical style, Metrodorus’s acid criticism of Rome earned him the nickname Misorhomaios, “Rome-Hater.” Mithradates bestowed exceptional honors on Metrodorus, even referring to him as “father.” Metrodorus was appointed as a kind of “supreme court” judge whose decisions were independent of the king. Mithradates’ speeches include many touches that suggest the hand of Metrodorus the Rome-Hater.18