The Poison King

by Adrienne Mayor

  But Lucullus’s strategy was the opposite of what Mithradates anticipated. Seriously outnumbered, the Roman used a lightning strike against Tigranes’ cumbersome masses. Riding out at the head of his army, in a red cloak with golden tassels, his steel breastplate flashing in the October sun, Lucullus had his finest hour. For once, his men were impressed. Dismounting, Lucullus raised his sword, shouting “This day is ours, my fellow soldiers!” He gave the signal for attack before Tigranes’ archers could let fly, and directed his Thracian and Galatian cavalry to slash the enemy’s mail-clad horses from behind, giving them no time to maneuver.

  Incredulous that such a piddling force would actually initiate the attack, Tigranes could only choke out the same words over and over again: “What!? Are they really attacking us?” It was a tremendous rout. Tigranes’ wall of cataphracts reared up and bolted, running down their own infantry, trampling tens of thousands. The heavily armored horses collided with Tigranes’ baggage train. Confusion and terror clotted the multitudes. The Romans closed in for the slaughter and pursued the fleeing enemy till nightfall. For once, Lucullus’s legionnaires followed orders and did not stop for plunder, bypassing mile after mile of glittering armor, weapons, and ornaments lying in the road.

  Shocked out of his fantasy of easy vistory, aghast at the disaster, Tigranes rushed with his son and attendants into the foothills. With great emotion, the King of Kings removed his tiara and handed it to his son, urging him to save himself. Not wanting to stand out as royalty, the prince entrusted the crown to his slave for safekeeping. Father and son fled by different routes into the mountains.

  Lucullus tallied only 100 men wounded and 5 killed, while he claimed that more than 100,000 of Tigranes’ infantry and most of the cavalry perished. Many escaped; many were taken captive. Among the prisoners was the slave carrying Tigranes’ tiara: his capture might explain how we know of Tigranes’ personal reactions to the battle. Ancient and modern historians marvel at this spectacular upset, a battle like no other. Never had the Romans been so outnumbered, and never had they won so decisively against overwhelming odds. Alfred Duggan, writing in the 1950s, described the battle in racist-colonialist terms, comparing the Syrian and Mesopotamian soldiers to “feeble cattle” and commenting that the “Arabs of the desert think only of joining the winning side.” Duggan even stated that the outcome was a striking example of Westerners ascendant over “cringing Asiatics.”16

  Yet Tigranes’ diverse, sprawling army—reminiscent of Xerxes’ great multinational army in 480 BC—had been spectacularly successful in all his conquests so far. Obviously, however, Tigranes’ massive, polyglot forces also suffered problems of logistics and command and control similar to those faced by Xerxes. Tigranes’ armies were ill-prepared and immobilized by Lucullus’s blitzkrieg strategy and experienced legions. Indeed, historians praise Lucullus’s military accomplishments: with delay and caution he had worn down the lightning-fast Mithradates, and now with speed and surprise he defeated Tigranes’ ponderous juggernaut. Yet despite all his successes in battles, Lucullus failed to lay his hands on Mithradates or Tigranes, nor could he prevent them from surging back with renewed forces.

  RISING FROM THE ASHES

  Riding down from the mountains toward the Tigris Valley with his twelve thousand cavalrymen, Mithradates was unaware that the battle had already been lost. His heart sank when he met the first of Tigranes’ soldiers fleeing in panic. As he encountered thousands of wounded fugitives streaming up from the plain, Mithradates learned the extent of the catastrophe. At this extremely bleak moment, after surviving a barrage of personal calamities and cutting short his own hope of recovering at least his Kingdom of Pontus, one might expect Mithradates to criticize Tigranes’ foolish arrogance and think only of saving himself. But, as Plutarch pointed out, it is praiseworthy and revealing of Mithradates’ character that instead of abandoning Tigranes, Mithradates continued down the mountain in search of his old friend.

  FIG. 13.2. (Left) Mithradates’ coin portrait, 75/74 BC. As crises accumulated, Mithradates’ image on coins seems to be more Dionysian than Alexandrian, with wild, disheveled hair; and the coins appear to be hastily produced. Silver tetradrachm, 1944.100.41479, bequest of E. T. Newell, courtesy of the American Numismatic Society. (Right) Tigranes the Great, Getty Images.

  Mithradates found the king crying alone by the side of the road, forlorn and humiliated, without his crown or attendants. Leaping down from his horse, Mithradates embraced Tigranes. The two men wept together over their misfortunes. Mithradates quickly regained composure and inner fortitude. Placing his cloak over Tigranes’ shoulders, Mithradates offered his own horse. He spoke encouragingly as they turned and hurried up into the mountains toward Artaxata. Mithradates must have persuaded Tigranes that they could still fulfill their grand—and now intertwined—destinies. The battle’s outcome would have convinced Mithradates that his new indirect strategy was the only way to resist the Romans.17

  In the face of overwhelming losses, the battered pair of kings began to forge plans to assemble yet another army. Tigranes graciously appointed Mithradates as the commander and strategist of their new combined forces, citing his old friend’s wisdom and experiences with the Romans.

  MISSION IMPOSSIBLE

  While Mithradates and Tigranes disappeared into northern Armenia, Lucullus remained on the plain to besiege Tigranocerta. For the first time, a Roman army experienced an extraordinary secret weapon, a flaming substance that burned everything, wood, metal, leather, horses, and human flesh. “This strange chemical,” marveled the historian Cassius Dio, “is so fiery that it consumes whatever it touches and cannot be extinguished with any kind of liquid.”18

  Many men and machines were burned, but Lucullus finally took the imperial city after Tigranes’ mercenaries opened the gates. He seized the royal coffers, containing eight thousand talents of silver, unimaginably costly raiment, jewels, and other valuables. Each legionnaire received eight hundred drachmas (the equivalent of more than two years’ pay) and all the plunder he could carry. When Lucullus discovered the company of dramatic actors cowering in the theater, he ordered them to perform plays to celebrate his victory. Then, commanding his men to raze Tigranocerta to rubble, the Roman imperator saved the wives of prominent men from rape and arranged for the displaced people from Cappadocia and elsewhere to return to their native lands. All traces of Tigranocerta were erased. Its location is unknown, although in 2006 Armenian archaeologists announced the exciting discovery of the walls of a large, fortified Hellenistic city near the Tigris.19

  Elated by his success, Lucullus decided to ignore the fact that Mithradates and Tigranes were still free in the north. Turning west, he stormed Samosata, the wealthy capital of Commagene, a small kingdom on the Euphrates. Allied with Mithradates and Tigranes, Samosata controlled the strategic trade routes from Asia north to Pontus. But the Samosatans wielded the same horrendous weapon used by the Tigranocertans: a “flammable mud called maltha that oozes up from pools in the desert,” wrote Pliny. The defenders on the wall poured maltha over the Romans below. It clings like burning honey to anyone who tries to flee, said Pliny, and water only causes it to burn more furiously. Maltha destroyed Lucullus’s siege machines and melted his soldiers’ armor and flesh. The incendiary was well known in the Middle East to the worshippers of Ahuramazda and Mithra, but unknown in Rome at this time. Maltha was viscous, highly combustible naphtha, skimmed from petroleum lakes in the deserts of northern Iraq, Syria, and eastern Turkey.

  The terror of the burning maltha forced Lucullus to withdraw from Samosata. Venturing into Gordyene, his army suffered another biochemical attack. Archers on horseback suddenly bore down, shooting arrows even as they galloped away and vanished into the hills. Lucullus lost a great many men in these ambushes. Their wounds were “dangerous and incurable,” wrote Cassius Dio. Not only did the nomads dip their iron arrows in deadly viper venom, but the tips were designed to break off inside the wound.20 Lucullus retreated to the Tigris, with his s
oldiers vehemently protesting the hardships and lack of fresh loot. After the first flush of victory and plunder, the campaign now seemed endless, pointless. Why were they continuing to battle new barbarian enemies in these godforsaken lands, while the renegade kings Mithradates and Tigranes escaped to Artaxata?

  According to Plutarch, Lucullus had convinced himself that he had already neutralized Mithradates and Tigranes. They were old men, Lucullus told himself, no longer worthy of notice. Like an athlete in a triathlon, wrote Plutarch, Lucullus now dreamed of vanquishing the Big Three, the greatest empires in the known world. First Mithradates, then Tigranes, and now—Parthia! Parthia’s military power had been steadily growing in what is now Iran and Pakistan. Loosely allied with Mithradates and Tigranes, the king of Parthia refused to promise neutrality. Using this refusal to justify an invasion of Parthia, Lucullus dispatched a messenger back to Pontus with new orders for the two legions—the Fimbrian bad apples—left behind in Mithradates’ kingdom. They were to join him in Mesopotamia, to help conquer Parthia.

  But the two Fimbrian legions refused to obey—they even threatened to abandon Pontus. Word of their mutiny spread to Lucullus’s soldiers on the Tigris. They berated Lucullus for leading them on a such a dangerous wild-goose chase. Suddenly, Lucullus, despite his strategic brilliance, was no longer the imperator of the Roman army in the East. His authority evaporated. Lucullus—who for all his courage and intellect had never connected with the common soldier—was now a virtual nonentity in the midst of a disobedient, battle-weary mob.21

  MEANWHILE IN ARMENIA

  Mithradates and Tigranes, from their base in Artaxata, energetically crisscrossed the countryside in 69 BC, raising fresh armies. They recruited fighters from Armenia and the warlike tribes of Colchis, Caucasia, and the steppes beyond the Caspian Sea. Mithradates, as supreme commander, personally selected seventy thousand Armenians to be trained as infantry. The rest were set to manufacturing armor and weapons. Taxiles divided the new army into Roman-style cohorts and drilled them in Roman battle tactics, which would be needed to drive the Romans out of Pontus.

  But Mithradates also dipped into his Greco-Persian heritage, the experiences of Darius and Alexander. He counted on the maneuverability of smaller, flexible formations to fight the Romans in Armenia and eastern Pontus, where Lucullus’s cavalry would be hobbled by rugged terrain. Mithradates recruited an unusually large cavalry force, about thirty-five thousand horsemen and -women from Caucasia (between the Black and Caspian seas) and the lands beyond. Among the nomads of Caucasia and the steppes, each man and woman was a potential warrior, since both genders were raised to ride and shoot the bow and arrow (thus influencing Greek and Roman tales of Amazons). Mounted on shaggy ponies, this light-armed, nimble cavalry would be the heart of Mithradates’ new army.

  It might have been during this recruiting drive that Mithradates met the nomadic horsewoman named Hypsicratea (“Mountain Strength”). Her age is unknown, but she could have been thirty or forty years younger than Mithradates. Her name suggests that that she came from the Caucasus region. Hypsicratea first served as the king’s groom, caring for his horses; then she became his personal attendant and lover. They enjoyed riding and hunting together. The Amazon’s endurance and courage rivaled the king’s, and given Mithradates’ love of literature, history, art, and intelligent women, we can guess that she was also his intellectual equal. Praising her “manly spirit and extravagant daring,” he called her by the masculine form of her name, “Hypsicrates.” Mithradates’ relationship with Hypsicratea recalls famous mythic pairs—Theseus and Antiope, Achilles and Penthesilea, Hercules and Hippolyte—and he knew the story of Alexander and the Amazon queen from Caucasia. As we shall see, Hypsicratea’s companionship would sustain Mithradates in future adventures.22

  Mithradates and Tigranes stockpiled large supplies of grain, and sent envoys to Parthia to solicit money and troops. Mithradates’ personal letter to the Parthian king was preserved by the Roman historian Sallust. Whether or not it is the actual wording of Mithradates’ message is debated by historians, but the content and tone match his other letters and speeches. Mithradates did keep copies of his correspondence, discovered after his death, and early in his reign he enjoyed friendly relations with Parthian royalty (included among his friends in the Delos monument). Here is the essence of the letter of 69 BC, showcasing Mithradates’ animosity toward Rome and persuasive diplomacy (so different from the approach of Lucullus and Appius).23

  King Mithradates to the King of Parthia, greeting [the letter begins]. As one who is enjoying prosperity and glory, you may wonder why you should listen to my request for a military alliance. You may ask whether such an alliance is honorable, wise, or risky. If I did not believe that you too were exposed to the same wicked enemies and that to crush Roman aggression would bring you glorious fame, I would not venture to ask for an alliance and I would never hope to try to unite my misfortunes with your glorious success.

  Rome has always had the same motive for making war upon all nations and kings. That motive is a deep-seated desire for domination and riches. These Romans turned to the East only because the Atlantic Ocean ended their westward expansion. From their very origins, Romans have possessed only what they could steal from others—their homes, their wives, their lands, their empire—all stolen! Nothing prevents them from attacking and destroying allies and friends alike, weak and powerful, near and far. Rome is viciously hostile to every government not subject to Rome—especially monarchies.

  Mithradates lambastes Rome’s hypocrisy and betrayals of those they pretend to befriend. “The Romans stripped Anatolia of 10,000 talents when they betrayed Antiochus the Great; they enslaved King Eumenes of Pergamon; they forged the wills of Attalus III and Nicomedes IV so that they could take over all Anatolia.” Here Mithradates describes the Roman murder of the tragic hero Aristonicus, the true son of King Attalus. That he brings up Aristonicus’s rebellion now, more than fifty years after the fact, indicates that the Sun Citizens’ uprising still resonated in the anti-Roman East, as far away as Parthia, the birthplace of Persian Sun-worship.

  You have great resources of men, weapons, and gold [writes Mithradates]. It is inevitable that Rome will make war on you to obtain those resources. Ask yourself, if Tigranes and I are defeated, would you really be better able to resist the Romans? There is no end to war with the Romans. They must be crushed.

  Here Mithradates makes his pitch: “Ally with us, while Tigranes’ kingdom is intact and while I have an army of soldiers trained in warfare with Romans. If you send us help now, Tigranes and I can win this war at the expense of our armies, far from your borders, and with no effort, losses, or risk on your part.” He concludes,

  The Romans hate us as the avengers of all those they subjugate. You possess all the riches and grandeur of Persia, but you can expect nothing but deceit and war from Rome. Romans want power over all, but they always aim their deadliest weapons against those with the richest spoils. It is through arrogance, treachery, and never-ending warfare that Rome has grown great. Believe me, they will blot out everything or perish in the attempt.

  Mithradates had lost his strong ally in the West, Sertorius. Spartacus was dead. Now he endeavored to convince Parthia that Rome was a real threat, and that helping Mithradates and Tigranes was in Parthia’s best interests. Ultimately, however, the king of Parthia negotiated with Mithradates and with Lucullus, but aided neither side.

  LUCULLUS CHASES SHADOWS

  Mutiny by his army forced Lucullus to abandon the dream of subduing the Parthian Empire. In summer of 68 BC, Lucullus took up his old goal, to wrest Mithradates away from Tigranes’ protection (indeed, as long as Mithradates was alive, he was a threat to Rome). Lucullus’s soldiers agreed to march to Tigranes’ headquarters in Artaxata, designed by Hannibal. Lucullus liked to refer to Artaxata as the “Armenian Carthage.”24

  Marching up into Armenia, the Romans were surprised to find no food even though it was midsummer. Armenia’s high plateau of 4,00
0 to 7,000 feet is surrounded by 10,000-foot, snowy mountain ranges. At such high altitudes, the grain and fruit had not yet ripened. The soldiers were continually harassed by mounted archers. To the great consternation of the legionnaires, these male and female warriors skirmished in typical nomadic fashion, swooping in and then scattering. To the Romans, it seemed a cowardly way to fight. But it was effective: the legions were constantly under fire without being able to land a blow.

  Finally, a vast cloud of dust announced the approach of Tigranes and Mithradates. The two enemy commanders appeared, flanked by cavalry units from Atropatene (Azerbaijan), leading an army of such splendor and might that Lucullus was suddenly struck with fear. He turned to attack the Atropateni flanks, but they melted away into the hillsides instead of meeting him head-on. It may have been in this battle that Lucullus’s Macedonian cavalrymen decided to desert en masse to Mithradates.25

  Lucullus found it impossible to engage with Tigranes or Mithradates. They had become shadows, constantly withdrawing. Lucullus doggedly pursued. He took a lot of captives and amassed a great deal of exotic booty. Yet skirmish after skirmish proved indecisive. Lucullus and his army seemed to be chasing an illusion. Fleeting engagements were followed by unnerving silence. They never really lost, but they could not win either. By autumn, Lucullus had been drawn onto Armenia’s highlands of golden-brown parched grass and alkaline lakes. Plutarch says he was still hoping for a decisive battle that would “subdue the barbarian realm utterly.”

  Plutarch, Appian, and other ancient (and modern) historians have criticized the “poor” battle performance of Mithradates and Tigranes and their army of barbarians, accusing them of “shamefully” running away over and over again. Appian, for example, remarked that all that summer and fall, Lucullus could not “draw Mithradates out to fight.” Plutarch even claimed that Mithradates “fled disgracefully” because he “could not endure the shouting” and clamor of battle. The barbarian warriors “did not shine in action,” continued Plutarch. “Even in a slight skirmish with the Roman cavalry, they would give way before the advancing infantry, scattering to the right and left.” Maddeningly, the Gordyeni and Atropateni kept galloping off instead of “engaging at close quarters with the Romans.” The “pursuit was long and exhausting. The Romans,” concluded Plutarch, “were worn out.”26