Ancient Greece

Discovering Lost Stories from Greek History

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Introduction

Ancient Greece has long captured the imagination of many, be it historians, scholars, or casual readers. Its history is brimming with tales and legends that speak of great conflicts like the Battle of Thermopylae, stunning architectural wonders like the Parthenon and the many open-air theaters, and a pantheon of mighty gods and heroes who continue to inspire modern fiction. From Leonidas’s bravery against the Persians to Homer’s beautiful musings, ancient Greece often feels like the birthplace of everything we value—philosophy, democracy, drama, and even the Olympics. However, despite its fame, there is a side to this celebrated ancient civilization that remains hidden or rather overlooked that, when uncovered, could surprise even the most avid history buffs.

Sure, many may be very familiar with Herodotus and his extensive documentation of the Persians; few may be aware of Pytheas, the Greek merchant and explorer who dared to sail beyond the known world. The Greeks were experts in trade, war, and colonization, but they never ventured far beyond their familiar map. Pytheas was among the earliest to have set his sights on something far more ambitious. His voyage led him to the edges of the known world, allowing him to witness various natural phenomena the Greeks initially thought to be nothing more than just stuff of legends. Yet, his story is often overshadowed by the more famous exploits of generals and kings.

Images of the Spartans, clad in their bronze armor and marching with spears, often appear in our minds whenever we think of ancient Greece. Some may have even heard of the city-state’s law of discarding infants they deemed unworthy off Mount Taygetus. This grim narrative endured for centuries, but is it even true? The Spartans were certainly merciless, but their history and daily life were far more nuanced—and perhaps even more intriguing. For a city-state famous for its military discipline, the realities of life and death reveal a society that was both brutal and deeply misunderstood.

Apart from their wondrous architecture, the Greeks also had a peculiar obsession with tragedy. Interestingly, this obsession was not only limited to their plays but also to their lives in general. Ancient Greece gave birth to a myriad of figures with the greatest minds, yet so many of them often met ironic or downright bizarre ends. The Stoic philosopher Chrysippus contributed many of his ideas to the ancient civilization, particularly in the realm of physics and ethics. His ironic death, however, soon became a topic of discussion, overshadowing his contributions. An Olympic athlete once won a wrestling match despite dying in the match. These peculiar episodes prove that even death wasn’t free from the dramatic flair that shaped so much of their culture.

It is sufficient to say that ancient Greece was more than just feats of gods, monuments, wars, and conquests. The history of civilization is a patchwork of ideas, innovations, and contradictions. This book’s purpose is not to revisit the well-trodden paths of Greek history. Instead, it offers a window for those curious enough to take a peek into the overlooked corners, of the stories that remind us that, even in antiquity, humanity was wonderfully complex.

Chapter 1 – The Strange Case of the Athenian Plague

It was 480 BCE, and Xerxes I had been defeated at Salamis, his great ships rammed to pieces by the Greek triremes commanded by Themistocles. This was the day that the Greeks had been waiting for. After years of seeing their lands overrun by the Persians, this victory allowed them to regain the upper hand. Many Greeks were confident that they would never be forced to bow down to the Persians anymore—except for the Athenians.

Athens was worried that it would only be a matter of time before the Persians regrouped and attempted another invasion. So, Athens spearheaded the formation of the Delian League, which comprised key member states such as Chios, Lesbos, Rhodes, Delos, Samos, Naxos, and Thasos. This coalition of Greek city-states was united under a banner of collective defense. The league’s aim was to maintain a force formidable enough to meet any Persian resurgence. Member states often contribute ships and immeasurable funds in the name of this goal. These riches were stored in a treasury located in Delos, a sacred island where the league’s meetings were held.

However, as the years passed by, it became clear that the Persians were not capable of launching more invasions into Greek territory. The Delian League began to evolve into something altogether different. As tribute from member states flowed into the league’s treasury, Athens began to utilize it, turning the riches into a tool for the city’s own prestige. Even the treasury was moved from Delos to Athens. This presented a clear message to the member states. Athens was not just a self-proclaimed leader of the alliance; it was, in fact, a hegemon.

Athens entered its golden age because of the funds of the Delian League. Pericles, the city’s charismatic leader and statesman, went on an ambitious program of public works to uplift Athens’ status. Dozens of monuments were erected, and multiple other construction projects were commissioned. From the Parthenon to the famous Long Walls and the Erechtheion dedicated to both Athena and Poseidon to the sprawling Agora, Athens soon rose as the region’s most glorious center of art, philosophy, and, of course, democracy.

However, it is safe to say that this flowering of Athenian culture came at a cost. To the other Greek city-states, Athens’ transformation into an empire was not seen as an inspiration. Rather, it alarmed them. Sparta, in particular, was concerned about Athens’ growing naval and economic influence; it feared a challenge to its own supremacy in Greece. Sparta was also a staunch supporter of the oligarchy, which differed from Athens’ advocacy of democracy. Because of this, as well as a few other factors, a civil war brewed on the horizon where Greeks would fight against Greeks.

What began as nothing more than a skirmish over Corcyra and Potidaea eventually escalated into a full-scale conflict known as the Second Peloponnesian War (also referred to simply as the Peloponnesian War). The war erupted across the Aegean in 431 BCE and was fought between the Delian League, led by Athens, and the Peloponnesian League, which was commanded by Sparta.

The Beginning of Terror

The second year of the war began with the sound of Spartan boots trampling through the plains of Attica. Fertile fields that had once been abundant with olive trees and wheat were torched. The blue skies turned gray as the smoke rose. However, the Spartans, under the command of King Archidamus, were not planning on simply breaching Athens’ walls. They knew very well that the Athenians were exceptional architects and that their fortifications were pretty much impenetrable. The mighty Spartans sought another way. They decided to force the city into submission through starvation.

The Athenian Empire by the time the Peloponnesian War erupted.

Map_athenian_empire_431_BC-fr.svg: Marsyasderivative work: Once in a Blue Moon, CC BY-SA 2.5 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Map_athenian_empire_431_BC-en.svg

Pericles had anticipated this move. He ordered the rural populace to abandon their farms and make their way behind the walls of Athens. The Long Walls provided safety. Since the walls stretched to the port of Piraeus four miles away, Athens was able to maintain its naval lifeline. However, the influx of refugees from the countryside strained the city’s capacity. This eventually gave way to something far worse than war.

Ancient Athens protected by its Long Walls.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Pelopennesian_War,_Walls_Protecting_the_City,_431_B.C..JPG

Among the citizens of Athens was a man who was part of the military. Just weeks prior, he had been fighting alongside his comrades. He was used to wounds and scars from the battlefield, but a sudden throng of pain made him worried for his life. At first, he felt a searing pain in his head. It was as though his entire skull was set aflame. His throat then grew extremely parched as fever suddenly terrorized his body. His stomach constantly churned, often emptying itself in violent convulsions. When his body could not take it anymore, the man collapsed.

He was not the only one to have contracted this unknown disease. Almost everyone around him showed the same symptoms: raging fevers, inflamed eyes, diarrhea, ulcerated throats, and extreme thirst. Many succumbed to the disease within days. Despite the man’s suffering, he survived. Perhaps as a warning or a guide should the mysterious disease break out again in the future, the man decided to record the nightmare that struck Athens. His name was Thucydides, and in his book History of the Peloponnesian War, he described everything in meticulous detail, from the early symptoms of the sickness to the signs of death and even the state of Athens and its populace amidst the plague.

It was believed that the plague arrived via sailors and merchants at the bustling port of Piraeus. The sickness itself, however, was thought to have originated beyond the Greek world. Thucydides claimed that it came from Ethiopia and had made its way to Egypt and Libya before it began ravaging the Athenians.

Thucydides wrote that symptoms typically began in the head. Those who contracted the disease would feel as if their heads were on fire. Their eyes would turn red and inflamed as fever began to make its appearance. The first internal symptoms were equally harrowing: throats turned raw and bloody, tongues swelled, and breaths turned rancid. This, however, was only the beginning of the suffering. From here on, the illness would work its way down. Sneezing was common, and people’s throats would become so hoarse that their voices were reduced to rasping gasps. The sickness would then attack the chest. Victims would let out hacking coughs that racked their entire bodies, often leaving them desperately gasping for air.

The heart was not spared from the terror of the disease. Once the sickness seized control of the organ, it induced agonizing convulsions that lasted hours. The victim’s body would expel bile in different colors and shades, such as green, yellow, and even black. Those who lasted to this point had to endure episodes of empty retching.

The plague also changed the skin of its victims. Pustules and ulcers would typically emerge, their fiery red color contrasting with the patient’s flushed complexion. Their bodies usually did not feel hot to the touch, but the internal burning was indescribable. Oftentimes, those who contracted the disease could not even bear wearing even the thinnest of linen garments; they were so desperate for the cool relief of air or water that they would tear up their clothes or be naked. Ancient records claimed that many hurled themselves into wells or plunged into cold baths in the hopes they could escape from the burning ravaging their body.

The disease also terrorized their instincts. Thirst became an insatiable torment, driving the infected to swing between extremes. Some drank only sparingly, while others gorged themselves on water. Sleep became an unfamiliar term; the patients knew they needed it, but the continuous agony kept them wide awake. Their bodies craved rest, yet their minds would not allow them to sleep; they were trapped in a relentless cycle of exhaustion and despair. The internal burning would eventually reach its boiling point on the seventh or ninth day. From here on, the patients would be free from their suffering as they stepped into a whole different realm: the land of the dead.

As for those lucky enough to survive all of this, the plague delivered a final test—or rather, a final devastating blow. Victims would feel the disease shifting its focus to the belly. Ulcers erupted inside, followed by unforgiving diarrhea. Thucydides noted that this was the worst stage since it drained even the strongest of survivors of their remaining strength. Death came to some, but instead of a sudden strike, it came creeping in slowly.

As more Athenians contracted the disease, many tried to make sense of the origin of the plague. However, fear bred speculation. Whispers soon turned into wild accusations. Since they could not completely fathom why or how such a calamity could strike their great city, many Athenians believed that the Spartans were the ones who caused it. Rumors spread across the dying city that the Spartans spread the disease by poisoning the wells of Piraeus. They thought the plague was an act of war. This suspicion undoubtedly deepened the already bitter relationship between the two city-states.

An illustration of Athens during the plague.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Plague_in_an_Ancient_City_LACMA_AC1997.10.1_(1_of_2).jpg

The Spartans continued their campaigns after learning what had happened to Athens. However, they were cautious enough to avoid direct confrontation with the city. The Peloponnesian War, now in its second year, did not stop with the plague. But for the Athenians at that time, the Spartan army was no longer the immediate enemy—the invisible disease was.

For days, Athens witnessed the increasing death of its population. Even the city’s physicians, who were highly regarded for their expertise, were left speechless. They found themselves powerless, as their knowledge and remedies proved to be futile. Ironically, their dedication to studying more about their patients and the plague often led to their own demise. The more frequently they interacted with the infected, the more likely they were to contract the plague and succumb to its horrifying symptoms. With no treatment in sight, the Athenians became hopeless.

As the epidemic worsened, fewer and fewer were willing to approach the sick and tend to their condition. This resulted in hundreds dying in isolation, abandoned entirely by their families, friends, and neighbors. The city’s air was thick with the stench of decay as bodies were left to rot in the streets and alleyways. The huge number of dead made it impossible for the Athenians to conduct proper burials. Thucydides himself provided a grim picture of Athens during this time, stating that corpses were piled atop one another in public spaces. These bodies were then thrown into mass graves with little to no ceremony. This account is supported by modern archaeology. Excavations near the Kerameikos cemetery revealed a mass grave that contained nearly a thousand skeletons dating between 430 and 426 BCE.

What remains of the Kerameikos cemetery today.

George E. Koronaios, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Kerameikos_Cemetery_on_July_28,_2019.jpg

Perhaps because there was no more land to bury the dead, those tasked with removing the bodies often added them to funeral pyres that were still burning from previous cremations. Once done, they would quickly step back, afraid that the plague would latch onto them next. Thucydides described that even animals refrained from going near the contaminated remains.

Those fortunate enough to have survived the plague were able to let out a small sigh of relief. Not only were they free from the agonizing fever, headache, and diarrhea, but the survivors also seemed to have developed immunity. Thucydides said that these survivors became the caretakers for the sick. Some believed that the gods had given them a second chance, while others simply fostered a deep empathy for the suffering of others.

It is safe to say that the Athenians were deeply religious. Religion was embedded in their culture for as long as they could remember. Yet, as the plague continued to terrorize the city, the Athenians’ faith in their gods began to crumble. They began to doubt their religious beliefs. Since the disease struck without exception, sparing neither the devoted nor the impious, many questioned the purpose of their prayers and sacrifices. The same question lingered in their minds as they battled the sickness. If the gods would not protect their devoted subjects, then what was the point in worshiping them?

The temples of Athens experienced a great change. Once filled with various food or objects of offerings and the scent of burning incense, these temples turned into sites of great suffering. Refugees from the countryside, who had been brought into the city to avoid the Spartan invasion, sought shelter wherever they could, including temples. So, the very places where the Athenians had once communed with the heavens became choked with the stench of decay and the echoing howls of the sick.

While they were religious, the Athenians were also highly superstitious, like most Greeks of their time. Some believed that the plague was not an act of war ignited by the Spartans but a divine punishment. There was an oracle who predicted that Apollo himself—the god of prophecy, healing, and diseases—would side with Sparta if the Athenians chose to fight them with all their might. Because of this, many thought that the divine favored their enemies and that the plague was a manifestation of Apollo’s wrath.

Of course, not everyone in the city was willing to accept such explanations. Thucydides, for one, approached this claim with skepticism. In contrast to his other contemporaries, Thucydides dismissed the idea that the divine had any hand in unleashing the plague. Instead, he chose to hold strong to the medical theories of his day, particularly those stemming from the school of Hippocrates (a group of ancient Greek physicians and scholars). Led by Hippocrates, the Greek physician who laid the foundation for modern medicine, the school highlighted that diseases arose from natural causes rather than divine intervention. The Hippocratic school also emphasized the balance of bodily humors (blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile). Imbalances in these humors, rather than supernatural causes, were believed to cause illness.

Thucydides preferred to approach the plague with a rational and almost clinical eye. He strove to document its symptoms and progressions through careful observation. He even noted the strange absence of carrion-eating birds and animals in the city when the plague was at its height. He expected these creatures to feast on the unburied corpses scattered throughout the streets of Athens. Yet, he did not see any. This led Thucydides to deduce that they either died after consuming the infected bodies or, driven by instinct, avoided getting near them entirely.

The Athenian Plague in the Eyes of Modern Medicine Practitioners

Despite Thucydides’s vivid description of the plague, the Athenian Plague remains both a subject of fascination and debate among historians and medical researchers. Even today, the precise nature of the disease remains unknown, even though scholars have spent centuries trying to uncover its cause. At first, researchers deduced that the illness was an outbreak of the bubonic plague, which was famously known to be the culprit that devastated many populations across Europe and Asia in the medieval age. Yet, after a closer analysis of Thucydides’s writings and more research conducted on the outbreak’s patterns, new theories emerged.

One of the earliest alternative suggestions made by modern researchers was typhus, a type of bacterial infection typically transmitted by lice. This disease features symptoms that align to some extent with Thucydides’s account, such as high fevers, chills, and a characteristic rash. Typus can also spread rapidly, especially in overcrowded and unsanitary locations. This theory, however, is not accepted by everyone. Some doubt this hypothesis due to the absence of certain symptoms, such as the distinctive “rose spots” associated with typhus.

Some scholars and researchers have also drawn similarities between the Athenian Plague and smallpox. Also known for a high fever, smallpox causes pustular rashes and severe internal symptoms, all of which were once experienced by the unfortunate Athenians. However, the rashes from smallpox typically leave survivors with almost permanent scars—a detail missing from Thucydides’s account. Measles could also be a contender. This viral disease has a high contagion rate and usually includes symptoms like fever, cough, conjunctivitis, and widespread rash. The only challenge to this theory is the absence of the internal ailments that Thucydides noted in his writings. Severe diarrhea, intense thirst, and bile evacuations are not associated with measles, making it an imperfect fit.

In recent years, scholars have come up with yet another suggestion: viral hemorrhagic fevers such as Ebola or a related pathogen. Thucydides’s description of the plague surprisingly bears striking similarities to the symptoms of Ebola, from high fever to severe diarrhea, constant vomiting, and internal bleeding. What made researchers even more confident is that according to Thucydides’s notes, the Athenian Plague might have been traced to Africa, specifically Ethiopia, before it spread through Egypt, Libya, and eventually Athens. This geographic origin aligns with the historical prevalence of viral hemorrhagic fevers in sub-Saharan Africa.

The recent outbreaks of Ebola in Africa have shown how the disease can ravage populations in densely packed areas. When the plague struck Athens, the city and its surrounding regions were home to around 250,000 to 300,000 people. The densely packed urban centre itself was home to 140,000 residents, many of whom had fled from the countryside due to the war. Thucydides also noted the absence of scavenger animals during the outbreak, which aligns with observations of modern Ebola outbreaks where animals often stay away from infected bodies and carcasses. There is no definitive evidence that could firmly link the Athenian Plague to Ebola. Without access to ancient DNA or more definitive archaeological evidence, we can only guess. However, the similarities are striking and compelling enough to make it one of the most plausible theories.

What Became of Athens Following the Plague

It is sufficient to say that the Athenian Plague was catastrophic. It left a mark on the city’s history. The plague killed around 25 percent of its population, amounting to somewhere between 75,000 and 100,000 people. Other than the staggering death toll, the disease also deeply affected the Athenians’ social and moral life. Chaos and despair replaced order and unity, two of the city’s greatest virtues.

The plague lasted for three years, likely ending because of the eventual development of herd immunity among survivors and the natural waning of the outbreak over time. However, Thucydides wrote that it took Athens fifteen years to recover its population.

Pericles himself fell victim to the plague. As a figure who had guided Athens through its golden age, his passing was a turning point for the city. Just a year before his passing, Pericles delivered the Funeral Oration. Delivered during the funeral of the fallen soldiers of the Peloponnesian War, the famed speech was intended to inspire both hope and unity among the Athenians during the war. According to Thucydides, in his speech, Pericles praised the valor of Athenian democracy and emphasized the strength of its people. He talked about the ideals of freedom and civic duty while instilling positivity. Yet, even as he spoke, the plague loomed on the horizon, mocking his very optimism.

Pericles’s funeral oration.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Discurso_funebre_pericles.PNG

The political stability in Athens crumbled as the city saw the death of its leader. The Athenians never again saw a leader who could match Pericles’s intellect, charisma, and exceptional ability to navigate the complexities of war and internal governance. Athenian politics turned into factionalism, where rival leaders vied for control. Athens became increasingly divided as a result.

Before the sickness arrived and took away Athens’ glory, the city was known for its powerful military. Athens had shown its naval might during the First Peloponnesian War (460–445 BCE). The city’s fierce fleet of triremes was known throughout the Aegean, and its influence spread across the Mediterranean.

Of course, the city’s military strength was not only focused on its navy. Athens was also known for its disciplined hoplites. This unit of heavily armed infantrymen was composed of citizen soldiers. They usually marched into battles wearing linen armor (linothorax) or muscle cuirass, greaves, and the striking Corinthian or Phrygian helmet. Typically armed with a round shield, an eight-foot-long spear, and a two-foot double-edged sword for close combat, the hoplites were instrumental in forming the phalanx formation. This tightly packed formation consisted of rows of soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder. Once in position, the hoplites would then hold their shields so that they overlapped one another. This served as protection for incoming projectiles. They also pointed their spear outward. This formation was especially effective against enemy cavalry and less organized infantry.

Unfortunately for Athens, the plague disrupted its military might. By the time the Second Peloponnesian War erupted in 431 BCE, the city still had its well-trained hoplites and navy. But the moment the plague made its appearance, it ravaged Athens’ military power, just as it did the civilian population.

With the disease claiming the lives of many seasoned veterans and newly trained soldiers, it was impossible for the military to maintain its discipline. With fewer able-bodied men to defend the great city, Athens became more reliant on mercenaries and its allies. Mercenaries fought for pay rather than loyalty to Athens, while allies could shift their stance, especially when Athens was in the midst of chaos.

The naval crews, who were once the backbone of Athenian power, also fell victim to the disease. The triremes that had once patrolled the Aegean were left idle at the harbors. Since Athens also relied heavily on the navy to avoid direct land battles with Sparta (the Greek city-state was traditionally dominant on land), the city had no choice but to witness it crumble.

Athens was unable to mount decisive offensives following the plague, which allowed Sparta to gain the upper hand. In 404 BCE, about twenty-seven years following the start of the Second Peloponnesian War, Athens surrendered to Sparta, marking the end of its golden age. The Spartans imposed harsh terms on Athens. They diminished the city’s fleet, reducing it to only a few ships, and the Long Walls were torn down. The Athenian Empire was dissolved, and an oligarchic regime was installed. Known as the Thirty Tyrants, the regime was established to govern Athens and the former members of the Delian League.

However, this was not the complete end of Athens. A democratic uprising took place in 403 BCE, which successfully overthrew the Thirty Tyrants. From here on, Athens was able to regain its independence, though the city never succeeded in returning to its former glory.

The Greek world, on the other hand, entered a tumultuous period, with Sparta briefly asserting hegemony over the others. This would change when the Greeks saw the rise of Thebes and, later, Macedon under Philip II and Alexander the Great.

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Chapter 2 – The Alexander Conspiracy Theory

Alexander the Great knew no boundaries when it came to war and conquest. As he surveyed the battlefield, he noticed that his army was acting differently. Weary from years of unrelenting campaigns, they were about to face yet another formidable foe—the massive forces of King Porus. When the Battle of Hydaspes commenced in 326 BCE, it immediately became known as one of the fiercest encounters the Macedonians had ever faced. The Macedonian phalanx had to survive not only volleys of arrows and slashes of enemy swords, but it also had to hold its ground against the Indian king’s war elephants.

Victory eventually belonged to Alexander and his mighty army, yet it came at a tremendous cost. They faced huge casualties, and combined with fatigue that came after years of endless combat, the soldiers began to fracture. Their morale and fighting spirit were not what they had been at the start of the campaign. The campaign had finally reached its end, not because of external forces but because of issues from within.

Despite winning at Hydaspes, Alexander’s men mutinied. Longing for their home, the soldiers refused to march any farther into the Indian subcontinent. Alexander gave a speech to his soldiers, persuading them to continue, but he eventually changed his mind. Claiming that the omens were unfavorable for further advancement into India, the conqueror announced that the campaign was done and that their next stop was home.

Map detailing Alexander the Great’s empire.

Generic Mapping Tools, CC BY-SA 3.0 <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:MacedonEmpire.jpg

However, the march back home was no walk in the park. Alexander’s troops had to endure skirmishes, treacherous terrain, deadly sickness, and the punishing weather. They finally reached Babylon in 323 BCE, where the city welcomed its king with celebrations. Some viewed the mighty conqueror as a living god or a man who brought glory to the Macedonian Empire. Others saw him as an unpredictable conqueror whose ambition knew no bounds. Alexander’s time in Babylon was full of grand celebrations and more planning for future conquests. But beneath the surface, Alexander was actually a man burdened by loss.

The previous year, Alexander had lost his closest companion and confidant, Hephaestion. Raised together in Macedon and sharing an education under Aristotle, the two were nearly inseparable. Hephaestion was not just a general in Alexander’s army; he was also the other half of his soul. There were even whispers that the two were entangled in a romantic relationship. Hephaestion was Alexander’s adviser and his mirror; he was the only person who truly saw the complexities of the man who sought to conquer the world.

Alexander and Hephaestion (dressed in red cloak) at the Battle of the Hydaspes.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Le_Brun,_Alexander_and_Porus.jpg

When Hephaestion died, possibly from typhoid or another illness he contracted during their campaigns, Alexander was plunged into a deep depression. His grief was indescribable. He saw to it that Hephaestion was honored with extravagant funerary rites and declared that his friend would be worshiped as a hero. There was also a shrine dedicated to Hephaestion in Babylon. Alexander even went as far as to petition the oracle at Siwa to deify Hephaestion.

Alexander was said to have withdrawn from his court and those surrounding him. He refused to eat for days. Ancient sources recorded that the mighty conqueror was so consumed by sorrow that he would lie on Hephaestion’s bed, often weeping inconsolably. At this point, those around him were sure that Hephaestion’s death had left a void inside the conqueror that no amount of glory or conquest could ever fill. As the months passed, Alexander began to feel his health deteriorating.

The Fall of the Great Conqueror

In the spring of 323 BCE, Alexander hosted a grand banquet. It was a celebration held for his admiral, Nearchus, who had successfully explored the Indian Ocean and returned with tales of its marvels and riches. The feast was unsurprisingly extravagant; it was hosted by the conqueror of the known world. There was music and wine as Alexander’s closest generals and loyal companions mingled. However, this night of revelry would soon turn into a tragedy.

Although accounts vary, many ancient sources suggest that Alexander drank excessively that night. The Greek historian Plutarch, for one, wrote that Alexander even joined a drinking contest where he consumed enormous amounts of unmixed wine. The consequences of this were severe. Alexander woke up the next day with sharp abdominal pains that continued to worsen as the hours passed. It was said that the stabbing pain was so intense that the conqueror, who had survived through the harshest of wars, howled in agony. His attendants could only watch helplessly as he clutched his stomach, screaming for the pain to subside.

Days later, his condition had become even worse. A fever soon took hold of him, absorbing whatever strength Alexander had left. Eventually, the Macedonian king became bedridden, unable to rise, let alone oversee his vast empire. His attendants, physicians, and generals took turns crowding him over the days. They were desperate to ease his suffering, yet their efforts were all in vain.

His inability to speak in his final days left many puzzled. However, it is possible that it stemmed from an old injury that he sustained during the siege of Cyropolis years earlier. During the siege, Alexander was struck in the neck by an enemy projectile. Although not fatal at the time, the effect was perhaps delayed; it could have left lingering damage that compromised his ability to speak under extreme stress or illness. Nevertheless, as the fever ravaged his body, his vocal cords gave up.

Alexander was acquainted with paranoia in the days before his death. The conqueror had always been a man who believed in omens and divine signs. Plutarch described an omen that foretold the misfortune that was about to befall the Macedonian king. He told stories of a flock of ravens circling over the palace in Babylon before falling dead at Alexander’s feet. Another story involved Alexander’s prized lion, who was inexplicably kicked to death by a mule, a creature often associated with sterility and bad luck.

There was also another prophecy that talked about Alexander’s impending doom, though Alexander likely never realized this until his death. Known as the prophecy of Calanus, it involved an Indian sage who accompanied Alexander’s campaign in India. According to ancient records, Calanus chose to voluntarily self-immolate (an act of setting oneself on fire) upon discovering that he was ill. The sage claimed that he would prefer to die with dignity rather than be a nuisance. However, before he departed, Calanus was said to have cryptically told Alexander, “We shall meet in Babylon.” His words were dismissed at the time. However, as Alexander’s health worsened following his return to Babylon, the prophecy took on a chilling significance.

Alexander was more or less a living corpse by the ninth day of his illness. He could no longer move. The once mighty conqueror only lay in his bed, barely conscious, while surrounded by his grieving generals and loyal companions. His fever reached its peak on the tenth day. Alexander finally breathed his last. It was believed that his generals remained by his side, perhaps waiting for a sign of recovery. It never happened.

Interestingly, ancient sources wrote that Alexander’s body did not decay for six days following his passing. Plutarch, ever superstitious, and other historians suggest this was strong evidence of his divine lineage.

The Poisoning of Alexander

It is not surprising that the idea of divine retribution captivated several ancient writers. Although Alexander was a man of superstition, he could not refrain from doing actions that were considered an affront to the heavens. His claim of divine ancestry, his deification, and his disregard for sacred customs, including the burning of the palace at Persepolis and adopting Persian practices, were thought by some to be acts of arrogance that invited divine retribution. While this concept of divine wrath gave a rather poetic explanation to the mighty conqueror’s mysterious death, other scholars and historians suggest a more earthly culprit: poison.

Poisoning was one of the most effective methods of eliminating powerful rivals in the ancient world. Since it often left little trace, this subtle weapon often became the choice of those seeking to seize power in the court. As for Alexander, his sudden illness and death happened during a time when his empire was fraught with tension, both political and familial. One suspect that might have played a role in his death was Antipater, one of Alexander’s former allies.

Antipater once served as regent of Macedon when Alexander was away campaigning in Asia. With the king’s absence, it was up to Antipater to oversee Macedon. He was a trusted figure at first, but his relationship with Alexander began to take a negative turn in the later years of the campaign. Alexander, despite clashing with the Persians day and night during his campaign, surprisingly grew fond of their culture. When he began adopting Persian customs, the conqueror made an enemy out of Antipater, whose loyalty to the Macedonian aristocracy was unmatched. These two became increasingly estranged.

Tensions soon reached a boiling point when Antipater’s son, Cassander, visited the Macedonian king’s court in Babylon, acting as a representative of his father. Cassander was said to have expressed dissatisfaction over Alexander’s adoption of the Persian practice of proskynesis (the act of bowing or prostrating oneself before the king). Enraged, Alexander grabbed Cassander by his hair and slammed him against the wall. This humiliation undoubtedly broadened the rift between the king and his Macedonian elites, particularly Cassander and Antipater.

Some claim that Antipater, having seen the conqueror growing erratic as the days went by, began to see Alexander’s death as the only way to secure his influence. His reputation was smeared in 324 BCE when Alexander dismissed him as regent, passing the position to Craterus, another one of Alexander’s most trusted generals and companions. Through another one of his sons, Iollas, who served as Alexander’s cupbearer, Antipater poisoned the Macedonian king while he was at the grand banquet held for Nearchus.

However, the exact poison used (if he was indeed killed by poison) remains a subject of speculation. Some suggest it contained hemlock since it was a well-known and readily available poison in the ancient world; this was the very same poison drunk by the famous Greek philosopher Socrates. Although hemlock can cause paralysis and respiratory failure, its effects are usually immediate. It took Alexander ten days to die, so hemlock seems unlikely. Others have suggested that the poison was made from ergot, a toxic fungus that grows on cereals. This poison causes high fevers, vomiting, and death in severe cases. However, while ergotism might explain some symptoms, such as fever, it does not account for Alexander’s sharp abdominal pain or the gradual loss of motor functions.

Strychnine, a rare but potent poison, is another possibility. Since it could have been easily masked in wine, it would have been very difficult for Alexander or his attendant to detect it. However, its effects are completely different from what the king experienced. Instead of causing a high fever, the poison typically leads to convulsions. The white hellebore might be a better candidate. While the plant was known among the Greeks for both its medicinal and toxic properties, those who consumed it in large quantities could experience severe abdominal pain, vomiting, diarrhea, and fever—all of which matched the symptoms of Alexander before he passed away. Hellebore poisoning also aligns with the timeline of his decline, as it often leads to a protracted and painful death. White hellebore does not cause a loss of speech or motor functions, but scholars answered this mystery by suggesting that these symptoms were exacerbated by his previous injuries, particularly the neck wound sustained during the Siege of Cyropolis.

Plausible Diseases That Killed the Conqueror

Although speculation of foul play surrounds Alexander’s death, it is plausible that the Macedonian king did not depart the world as a result of political intrigue. Alexander lived a life full of relentless military campaigns, which often rewarded him with immense physical and emotional stress. All those years of marching through hostile environments might have eventually weakened his immune system. The Indian campaign that he launched during the last few years of his life had pushed not only his army to its limits but also his own body. Coupled with the loss of Hephaestion, which added another layer of emotional strain, it could be possible that the conqueror succumbed to death because of an illness.

Scholars and historians have pointed to several diseases as likely candidates for Alexander’s death. One of them is the West Nile virus. If this virus really was the culprit, then Plutarch’s account about birds dying in Babylon around the time Alexander’s death was near—a story that has long been interpreted as a dramatic embellishment—might actually reflect a real event. Birds are known to be the carriers of the West Nile virus. Their deaths could indicate the presence of the disease in Babylon at the time. The virus is typically transmitted to humans through mosquito bites. Babylon was surrounded by marshlands and abundant mosquitoes. Thus, we could assume that Alexander might have been infected by the virus during his stay in the city.

The only problem with this hypothesis is that many aspects of Alexander’s symptoms did not align with the virus. While fever is a common sign of the West Nile virus, the virus can also cause delirium or confusion. No historical accounts ever suggest that the Macedonian king experienced such symptoms. Paralysis and coma are rather rare symptoms, even in fatal West Nile virus cases.

Another possible candidate is malaria, which was endemic to Mesopotamia. Since the Euphrates River flowed through Babylon, it could be plausible that the city was a prime breeding ground for malaria-carrying mosquitoes. Alexander could have contracted the disease when he was in the city or perhaps even earlier in his campaign, with the infection growing fatal later on. Alexander started off with a fever, which fits one of the symptoms of malaria. If the disease gets severe, malaria can also cause neurological complications, which would explain Alexander’s gradual loss of motor functions and his eventual coma before his death. However, malaria never causes sharp abdominal pains.

The ancient world was also familiar with typhoid fever, another fatal disease that often ravaged the lives of many. Since this disease is spread through contaminated food and water, typhoid became a constant threat, especially in densely populated cities like Babylon. Alexander’s severe fever, abdominal pain, and eventual loss of key bodily functions align with the symptoms of a typhoid infection. Alexander’s neurological decline could have been the result of encephalitis (inflammation of the brain), which is one of the complications of typhoid.

This theory is accepted by many since typhoid is known to have the ability to cause intestinal perforation, which would explain the sudden onset of sharp abdominal pain that Alexander suffered from. A ruptured bowel would have caused immense pain and rapidly worsened his condition, eventually leading to his demise. The only challenge to this theory is that a perforated bowel usually happens in later stages of a typhoid infection; Alexander experienced this much earlier.

Alexander as a Prisoner of His Own Body

There is another theory surrounding his death, which is far more unsettling than the rest. Some scholars suggest that the mighty conqueror did not actually die when those around him pronounced him dead. Instead, he was afflicted with a rare and severe neurological disorder known to us today as Guillain-Barré syndrome (GBS). If this theory holds any truth at all, the implications are rather chilling. Alexander the Great might have been alive the entire time but trapped in his own body. He could do nothing as the world mourned him and made preparations for his burial.

GBS is a condition in which the body’s immune system mistakenly attacks the nervous system, causing progressive neurological damage. One would feel extreme weakness taking over their body or tingling in the limbs that eventually escalates to severe paralysis. As the disease goes on, GBS will typically impair breathing, speech, and even movement. In the end, the patient will be rendered almost completely immobile. Although they cannot move a muscle or even let out the faintest whisper to communicate their plight, those suffering from GBS are actually fully conscious and aware. GBS can also develop after certain infections, including typhoid fever and acute necrotizing pancreatitis, both of which have been suggested as possible causes of Alexander’s illness.

This theory also explains a certain detail recorded in ancient accounts. According to these sources, Alexander’s body did not decompose for several days after his death. While some believed this was because of his almost divine status, scholars suggest this was because Alexander was never dead to begin with. In the ancient world, death was not determined by checking for a pulse or brain activity; instead, it was determined by the cessation of breathing. If Alexander had GBS, the condition would have caused near-total paralysis, including a slowing of his breathing to the point where it became imperceptible to those around him. The paralysis would have reduced his body’s need for oxygen. This would have made his minimal breathing appear even less noticeable. Alexander might have appeared lifeless to those at his “deathbed.” They could not see the conqueror’s chest rising and falling, but in reality, he was still breathing, albeit very slowly. His heart never stopped beating, and his organs were still functioning, preventing any sort of body decomposition.

This theory reveals a deeply disturbing possibility. Alexander the Great, the mighty ruler who conquered the known world, was helpless in his final moments. He was aware that his coffin was being made. He heard his attendants and loyal companions weeping for his fate, yet the once unstoppable, almost divine conqueror could not even open his eyes or give the smallest signal as physicians prematurely declared him dead. He might have been a prisoner of his own failing body, treated as a corpse while his mind remained intact. The king, whose voice had commanded thousands of armies and whose actions had shaped the course of history, could do nothing in the end except wait for his eventual death, perhaps days after he was declared dead.

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Chapter 3 – The Legendary Battle of Marathon

Under the reign of King Darius I, the Persian Empire rose to become one of the most powerful forces to ever exist in the ancient world. Its territories stretched from the edges of India to the shores of the Aegean, with each region guarded by a fierce army that was once feared by many. Yet, the Persians were rarely free from challenges, especially on the western fringes of their empire. By the late 5th century BCE, the spark of defiance was clearly in the air, leading to a conflict that would soon alter the course of history: the Ionian Revolt.

The Ionian Greeks inhabited the areas along the western coast of Anatolia. Ever since Cyrus the Great’s successful conquest of the Kingdom of Lydia (sometime in 547 BCE), the Ionians were put under Persian rule. The Ionians were allowed a degree of autonomy, but they were also forced to pay tribute to the Persians. Tensions began to simmer beneath the surface. Eventually, these tensions began to reach a boiling point. Desiring independence, the Ionians, led by the city of Miletus, rose in rebellion against the Persians in 499 BCE. One of their earliest acts of defiance included the burning of the Persian regional capital at Sardis, which undoubtedly enraged Darius I.

However, the Ionians knew that in order to fully go against the mighty Persians, they needed a stronger force. So, they sought aid from mainland Greece. Without hesitation, Athens and Eretria responded to their call. The two city-states sent ships and troops to support the Ionians, further drawing the ire of the Persian king.

Unfortunately, the revolt ended in failure by 494 BCE. The Persians decisively defeated the rebels at the Battle of Lade. As a result, Miletus, the heart of the revolt, was destroyed. Its once-thriving harbor became nothing more than a thing of the past. Its people were forced to face their nightmare as they were taken into slavery. However, the consequences of the revolt were not limited to the lands of Ionia. Darius was furious at the Greeks’ interference, particularly the Athenians and the Eretrians, and wanted to punish them. According to Herodotus, Darius’s anger toward the Athenians was so great that he ordered one of his servants to say “Master, remember the Athenians,” three times before his dinner every day.

This anger resulted in the first Persian invasion of Greece. Apart from being an act of punishment for both Athens and Eretria, Darius was also determined to expand Persian dominance over the entire Greek mainland, sending a clear message to those who dared to challenge him. Without wasting too much time, Darius sent a preliminary expedition in 492 BCE, which sought to secure the northern regions of Greece and establish a foothold for a larger campaign. Led by Mardonius, the expedition achieved some success before misfortune struck. Perhaps sent by Poseidon himself, storms arrived near Mount Athos, ravaging the Persian fleet.

Never known to back down that easily, Darius launched another campaign two years later. This time around, the campaign was spearheaded by Datis and Artaphernes. The Persian fleet sailed across the Aegean, hoping they could avoid the wrath of the Greek god of the sea. As if luck was on their side, the Persians were able to capture a few islands and establish garrisons along the way. Eretria fell swiftly to the Persian advance. Not planning on showing mercy, especially with its involvement in aiding Ionia, the Persians sacked the city. Temples were burned, and the population was enslaved.

With Eretria subjugated, the Persians turned to their main target: Athens. The Persians marched toward the city, displaying both the empire’s vast resources and organizational might. The army commanded by Datis and Artaphernes was said to have numbered about twenty-five thousand infantry, supported by seasoned cavalry and another fleet of hundreds of ships. In contrast, the Athenians only had roughly ten thousand hoplites to spare, each armed with spears and shields.

The sheer size of the Persian army, combined with its reputation for annihilating its enemies, made the coming confrontation seem like a hopeless endeavor to the Athenians. However, the Athenians were not dissuaded. Like the Ionians, the Athenians knew that they needed not just strategy but also reinforcements to defeat such a colossal army. And so, the Athenian generals turned to their most powerful ally, Sparta. The Spartans were, after all, formidable soldiers, and with their support, Athens could have a chance at tipping the scales in their favor.

Since the two Greek city-states were over 130 miles apart, the Athenian military had to dispatch a hemerodromos, a type of courier, to deliver their request for aid to the Spartans. They chose a man named Philippides for this task. He was thought to have been the best among the hemerodromoi (plural for hemerodromos). Not only did he have experience traversing the rugged terrain of ancient Greece, but Philippides also had unmatched stamina and endurance, allowing him to cover hundreds of miles in a matter of days.

Philippides’s task was rather straightforward: run to Sparta, deliver the message, and return to Athens with their answer. However, the journey was grueling. He had to run through rocky trails and make his way through sun-scorched plains and dense forests. Fatigue undoubtedly weighed heavily on his body as the miles wore on. Yet, Philippides knew that Athens’ fate rested on his shoulders. And so, he pushed forward. Suddenly, a faint voice came out of the dense forest, calling out his name. Philippides halted, but his heart continued to race.

The hemerodromos was left speechless when he realized that the voice came from the god Pan, who stood before him. Pan, with his goat-like legs and horns, was the Greek god of the wilderness, shepherds, and hunters. Unlike the Olympian gods who ruled from Mount Olympus, Pan called the wilderness his domain since he was, more or less, the embodiment of the untamed forces of nature. His presence was also believed by the Greeks to have the ability to instill terror; the term “panic” was derived from the god’s name.

“The Athenians once worshiped me as they do the Olympians,” Pan said to Philippides. “But tell me, Philippides, why did they stop when I have aided them in the past?”

After finding the courage to finally speak, Philippides responded to the god. Knowing that the Athenians needed all the help they could muster—both mortal and divine—he reassured Pan that the Athenians would soon honor the god with shrines and temples again. He then expressed his hope for the god to aid Athens should the time come.

“Very well,” Pan responded. “You may go now. I will lend my hand to the Athenians as I have before.”

This legendary encounter was recorded by the ancient historian Herodotus. Although Herodotus is widely known today as the “Father of History,” his accounts often blended fact with myth and oral tradition. This was a common practice among many writers of his time.

Philippides then continued his journey, eventually reaching Sparta. Without wasting a second, the hemerodromos made his way to the Spartan officials and delivered Athens’ plea. He explained the imminent threat that loomed over Greece and Athens’ dire need for Spartan warriors to join them at Marathon. Although the Spartans agreed to lend their spears, there was a problem. The battle was about to begin at the same time as the Carneia festival, a sacred period during which Spartan law prohibited military action until the full moon. Sparta was also in the midst of internal unrest. There was news of a potential revolt brewing among the Messenians. So, despite being willing to fight the Persians alongside the Athenians, the Spartans could not send their army at that moment. They did, however, promise to march after the festival’s conclusion. The Spartans ended up arriving a day after the battle took place.

A 17th-century drawing of Pan, currently held at the National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC.

Peter Paul Rubens, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sir_Peter_Paul_Rubens,_Pan_Reclining,_possibly_c._1610,_NGA_56608.jpg

Although disappointed with the answer, Philippides hurried back to Athens so that he could deliver Sparta’s response to the officials. Once safe behind the walls of the city, Philippides recounted his experiences to the Athenian generals. He told them all about Sparta’s decision and his encounter with the god Pan. The Athenians believed every one of his words. In their eyes, his encounter with the god was a sign of divine favor. The Athenians worked to honor the god. Shrines and temples were constructed in Pan’s name, and rituals were performed to worship him.

The Battle Commenced

The Persians reached the plains of Marathon in early September 490 BCE. To them, the location of the battlefield was strategic. The flat land was spread between the mountains and the sea. The Persians could use it to their advantage by deploying their fierce cavalry to overwhelm their enemies. For days following their arrival, the Persians raided nearby villages. Datis and Artaphernes spent day and night preparing their forces and waited patiently for the Athenians to respond.

Meanwhile, in Athens, the population braced itself for the clash. The Athenian army, which numbered only ten thousand, was put under the command of generals Callimachus and Miltiades, both of whom were extremely experienced in the art of war. Despite the fact that they were greatly outnumbered by the Persians, the Athenians were able to remain hopeful due to their knowledge of the terrain—and perhaps the divine favor of the gods.

After ensuring everything was prepared, the Athenian army began marching to Marathon. Miltiades played a key role in the battle, not only because he was a seasoned general but also because he had once served under the Persians themselves. He even accompanied the Persian army during Darius I’s campaign against the Scythians in 513 BCE. All those years fighting with the enemy allowed him to understand the Persians’ strengths and weaknesses. Miltiades devised a bold strategy to counter the Persians’ numerical advantage. Relying on the discipline and superior training of the famous Greek phalanx, the Athenians focused on strengthening their flanks.

An illustration of the Greek hoplites marching in phalanx formation.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Greek_Phalanx.jpg

This deliberately thinned the center of their formation, but it was a calculated risk. Miltiades anticipated that the Persians, confident in their numerical superiority, would exploit the weakened center and push forward aggressively. By drawing the Persian forces into the center, the Athenians could envelop them with their stronger flanks. The disciplined Greek hoplites on the wings would hold firm and then pivot inward, creating a pincer movement to trap the Persians in a double envelopment. This maneuver would make use of the Greeks’ strength in close combat, as the well-trained hoplites could easily overwhelm the lighter Persian infantry. The plan was bold and ambitious. If it was executed correctly, Athens could live to see another day.

The battle began at dawn, with the Athenian hoplites charging down the slopes. Clad in bronze armor and armed with spears and shields, they attacked the Persians as if there would be no tomorrow. After all, the Athenians had to win the battle, or Athens might crumble entirely since the city had no more soldiers to spare should the Persians decide to attack the city itself. The Persians did not hold back; they launched volleys of arrows as the Athenians advanced. This, however, failed to disrupt the Athenians’ momentum since the Greek hoplites were covered in heavy armor.

The Athenian troops charging into the Battle of Marathon.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Les_H%C3%A9ros_de_Marathon_Georges_Rochegrosse_1859.jpg

Legend has it that the god Pan was present the entire time. The god observed the battle from a cave near the field. Perhaps true to his promise to Philippides earlier, Pan was believed to have eventually intervened in the battle, lending his divine assistance to the Athenians. But at the beginning, he lay low, waiting for the right moment to strike fear into the hearts of the ambitious invaders.

The battle raged for hours, and for a moment, the Athenian center started to falter under the relentless assault of the Persians. With their superior numbers, the Persians pressed hard, hoping they could break the Greek lines entirely. The Greeks, refusing to back down, were holding their ground when they suddenly noticed a figure emerging on the battlefield out of nowhere. According to ancient records by Herodotus and Pausanias, this mysterious figure was Echetlaeus (Hero of the Plowshare).

Pausanias claimed that Echetlaeus had an archaic and otherworldly demeanor. Instead of wearing heavy armor and a helmet similar to the hoplites, his clothes were rather simple and rustic. He looked like a farmer but had the frame of a bodybuilder. The mysterious warrior also wielded an echetlon or a plowshare, which he swung around with a precision that bordered on the supernatural. Each strike was precise; Pausanias recorded that Echetlaeus cut down the Persians without difficulty as he swiftly moved through the chaotic battlefield.

Herodotus added a haunting detail to the tale. On the battlefield was an Athenian soldier who went by the name Epizelus. He fought bravely on the front lines, but something extraordinary occurred that changed his fate. Herodotus claimed that Epizelus suddenly turned blind even though he had never been struck by a weapon. The last thing he saw was a mysterious muscular man—neither an Athenian nor a Persian soldier—with a beard so long that it covered his entire shield. It was believed that the cause of his sudden blindness was the result of divine energy that came from Echetlaeus striking down a Persian soldier next to him.

Seeing that the gods were on their side on the battlefield, the Athenians pushed on and executed Miltiades’s brilliant strategy. While the center steadied and held its ground, the stronger wings of the Athenian formation enveloped the Persian sides. This was the moment when the Athenians successfully broke through the enemy’s ranks, driving them into disarray. The Persian soldiers, now hemmed in on all sides, began to fear that they might not leave the battlefield alive.

As if there was some kind of cue, the god of wilderness, Pan, was believed to have taken the chance to intervene. He sent waves of panic through the Persian ranks. Some even claim that the god himself appeared before the Persians, his wild eyes and goat-like legs and horns instilling fear into the hearts of the invaders to the point where they broke formation and scrambled toward their ships in desperation. It was a chaotic scene, with the panicked Persians trampling one another, desperate to leave the battlefield.

And so, victory belonged to the Athenians. While the Athenians only lost 192 soldiers, the Persians left behind a far more staggering number of casualties. Herodotus, who was prone to exaggeration, recorded that the Persians lost about 6,400 men in total.

Upon seeing the Persian forces retreat, the Athenians thought it would be good to spread the news of their victory to the rest of the city-states. Philippides was summoned once more and tasked with delivering the message to Athens. Exhilarated by the triumph, Philippides immediately set off on yet another grueling journey. He ran for nearly twenty-six miles from Marathon to Athens. Upon reaching the city-state, Philippides was said to have burst into the assembly and proclaimed “Χαίρετε, νικῶμεν” (Chairete, nikomen—“Hail, we win!”) before collapsing to the ground and dying of exhaustion.

A depiction of a runner, possibly Philippides, arriving in Athens to announce the victory at Marathon.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Phidippides.jpg

Celebrations were in order for the great victory, yet the Athenian soldiers could not help but think about the mysterious figure who had appeared on the battlefield to assist them in turning the tide against the mighty Persians. Despite their efforts to look for Echetlaeus, the Athenians failed to find him; it was as if he had vanished into thin air. Perplexed, the Athenians turned to the Oracle of Delphi. As the most sacred authoritative source of divine wisdom in Greece, the oracle must have some answers about the mysterious figure. However, when asked about Echetlaeus’s identity and whereabouts, the oracle simply replied that it was the will of the gods that the Athenians honor him as a hero. The Athenians did not question any further. Eager to fulfill the gods’ will, they erected marble monuments to commemorate the mysterious warrior. His depiction can be seen today in the Stoa Poikile (Painted Portico) in Athens, where his image was carved alongside other heroes of Marathon.

Although the Athenians were satisfied with the oracle’s answer, the mystery surrounding Echetlaeus captivated many others, especially historians and mythologists. Research and theories have emerged to uncover the truth behind who the muscular hero who fought at Marathon really was. His name offered the first clues. Derived from the Greek word echetlon, which means “plowshare,” the name Echetlaeus literally translates to “he of the plowshare.” This association with a farming tool led many to believe that Echetlaeus symbolized the agrarian roots of Greek society; he represented the strength of the common people who toiled the land and defended their homeland.

Of course, many also came to the conclusion that Echetlaeus was not a mortal warrior. Some ancient accounts suggest that he was a divine being sent by none other than Pan, who had given his word to Philippides that he would help the Athenians. Although Pan was known for his unpredictable nature and power to cause panic in his enemies, some suggest that the god might have taken a physical form on the battlefield to fulfill his promise.

A depiction of Echetlaeus fighting with his plow carved onto an Etruscan funerary urn.

Sailko, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Volterra,_urna_cineraria_con_scena_di_combattimento_(guerriero_con_aratro)_01.jpg

Others associated Echetlaeus with the goddess Demeter and Persephone, both of whom were considered central figures in Greek mythology. While Demeter was the goddess of agriculture and the harvest—fitting the appearance of Echetlaeus, who looked like a farmer—Persephone was the queen of the underworld. In this interpretation, the mysterious warrior was seen as a manifestation of their divine influence, a protector of the land and its people in a battle fought on the soil they deeply respected. Some even suggested that the plowshare symbolized Demeter’s dominion over the earth and the idea of renewal after destruction.

Unfortunately, despite these theories, the true nature of Echetlaeus remains a mystery. We will likely never be sure whether he was just a farmer inspired to fight and defend his homeland, a strong hero whose deeds were mythologized, or even a divine emissary sent by the gods, but we can safely say that Echetlaeus represents the enduring Greek belief in the intertwining of the mortal and the divine.

As for the Persians, the Battle of Marathon was not their last clash with the Greeks. A decade later, in 480 BCE, the Persians, under Darius’s son, Xerxes I, would embark on a larger campaign in Greece. These episodes of war brought forth another set of new heroes and legendary battles, including the popular stand of Leonidas and his three hundred Spartans at Thermopylae, as well as Themistocles’s outstanding naval strategy at Salamis.

Chapter 4 – Spartan Myths, Misconceptions, and Untold Stories

An old map of classical Sparta.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Antique_Map_of_Classical_City_of_Sparta.jpg

The silence of dusk was shattered with the sudden cry of a newborn. Born into a modest Spartan family, the child was cradled by his dear mother, who held him close to her chest. The baby soon calmed down. He cooed softly, eventually drifting into a deep sleep. The mother smiled but only for a moment, as she could not ignore the tension that had been hanging heavy in the room. Sparta had a law where every child must be judged for their worthiness to live.

The father carefully took the boy into his arms. Nodding to his wife as if to tell her everything would be fine, he walked out of their humble home and set out toward the Lesche. Other than being a public gathering place typically used by elders, citizens, and philosophers for discussions, storytelling, and making civic or political decisions, the Lesche was also where Spartan elders would gather to determine the fate of newborns.

The father was hesitant as he made his way through the village, his heart beating even faster the moment he laid eyes on Mount Taygetus looming in the distance. According to ancient tales, the mountain’s peak, also known as Taleton, was a place of reverence. It was dedicated to Zeus and the god of the sun, Helios. The peak was once a place of sacred rituals, where horses were sacrificed in the name of the gods. However, for many Spartans, the mountain was significant for another reason; it was believed to be a site where unworthy infants were left to die at a chasm down below.

When the father arrived at the Lesche, he immediately saw the elders. The Spartans lived by the belief that the city’s survival depended on the physical and moral excellence of its people. Thus, it was of the utmost importance for the elders to examine the baby thoroughly. They checked for signs of sickness, deformity, and frailty. The father could only watch as the elders did this. The father could not help but think of his neighbor’s unfortunate child. Just a week earlier, the elders had deemed the child unworthy. His neighbor was ordered to discard his newborn at the chasm of Mount Taygetus.

The father was brought back to reality when one of the elders called his name. They announced that his son was indeed strong and healthy, showing potential that he could one day serve the city.

“You must raise him well,” one of the elders said.

The father, forever thankful to the gods, could finally let out a huge sigh of relief. He took his son into his arms, eager to return home and deliver the good news to his dear wife.

However, one question remains. Did the Spartans really practice this? Or was it nothing more than a myth told by ancient sources or enemies of the city-state to exaggerate Sparta’s image as a cold and calculating society?

Archaeologists have uncovered forty-six human remains at the foot of Mount Taygetus. But interestingly, none of them belonged to infants. All of the bones that were discovered, which were dated to the 6th and 5th centuries BCE, actually belonged to individuals over the age of eighteen. This physical evidence contradicts the stories of how the Spartans left their unworthy babies in the chasm. Scholars suggest that instead of infants, the Spartans might have thrown criminals and prisoners off the mountain as a form of punishment. After all, Sparta was known to have dealt with criminals harshly, so the use of the mountain for such a purpose fits more closely with what is known about their justice system.

An 18th-century painting depicting a scene where infants were being judged by the Spartan elders.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jean-Pierre_Saint-Ours_-_Gericht_%C3%BCber_die_Neugeborenen_Spartas_-_2358_-_Bavarian_State_Painting_Collections.jpg

While the story is most likely a myth that stems from the cultural perception of Sparta as a militaristic state—they valued physical perfection above all else—infant exposure was not unfamiliar in the ancient world. In certain Greek city-states, it was practiced, albeit only occasionally. Although it was by no means the norm, the Greeks resorted to this in response to severe deformities or extreme poverty. Athens, for one, allowed fathers to leave their unwanted infants, especially illegitimate or severely deformed children, in public spaces. Some sources claim that these infants were first put into jars or a clay pot before being left on the roadway. Babies who were lucky enough would be saved by passersby, while the rest would have to face their demise slowly.

Mount Taygetus as seen from Sparta.

AlMare, CC BY-SA 2.5 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Taygetos_From_Sparti.jpg

This practice of exposing a child to the elements or outright killing a child was not only limited to Greece; it also happened in other parts of the ancient world. At times, it was done as part of a religious practice or for population control. The Carthaginians, for instance, were said—or rather accused since there is no concrete evidence to prove it—to have sacrificed children in the name of their gods. Ancient China and India also participated in infanticide, though it was usually done for females. In ancient China, these unfortunate female babies were typically drowned, suffocated, or starved to death. There were also cases where they were placed in baskets and hung on trees, where they would die from the elements or starve to death.

However, despite the existence of these practices, the idea that Sparta systematically discarded infants who they deemed unworthy seems to be an exaggeration of Spartan culture. This claim might have been crafted by their enemies to paint a harsh picture of the Spartans.

The Krypteia

Meanwhile, far in the Spartan countryside, an episode of murder would take place. It began with a laborer who was perhaps walking home after a long day’s work. It was obvious that the weight of exhaustion slowed his steps as he trudged along the dirt path between the fields. Suddenly, he caught a sight of something ominous. Squinting into the shadows, the laborer could see a figure slumped against a gnarled olive tree. He looked at the figure for a few seconds, yet there were no signs of any movement. With his heart pounding, the laborer crept closer, letting his curiosity take over him.

It was a lifeless body. The laborer had seen the dead man before. He was one of the helots (the enslaved class) and was known to be a leader among the Messenian rebels. Beneath the body was a pool of blood, and as the laborer’s eyes moved up, he noticed that the poor helot had his throat slashed. The laborer quickly took a step back. He knew very well that this was the work of the Krypteia. Not wanting to meddle in their affairs, the laborer made haste to his home, hoping he could erase the image of the dead helot from his mind.

The Krypteia worked silently in the shadows, yet everyone in Sparta knew of them. They did not target random civilians or laborers—only helots. This was the subjugated class who toiled on the fields and fed the Spartan war machine. Without them to work on the fields, the Spartan society would crumble. But why were the helots treated as if they were criminals? In the eyes of the Spartans, the helots were a threat to the fragile balance that kept Sparta intact.

The Spartans had a hierarchy. At the top were the Spartiates, the full male citizens who had gone through the military training known as the agoge. Next in the hierarchy were the Perioeci. These were the free men who lived in neighboring cities and villages under the governance of Sparta. They lived their lives working as craftsmen and traders and produced various other goods. They handled much of the economic activity that the Spartiates themselves avoided. The Perioeci, however, only had political rights in their own cities. They did not hold any in the state of Sparta itself; these rights were reserved exclusively for the Spartiates. At the bottom of the pyramid were the helots. These people, who often hailed from Messenia and Laconia, had been conquered by Sparta.

Of course, these people had not always been slaves. Before they had been captured, they were free. They could work their lands without fear and live a normal life. It all changed when Sparta came during the Messenian Wars. After conquering the region, the Spartans, as typical as it may sound, reduced them to servitude. They bound them to the land as agricultural laborers. These people were forced to grow crops for their Spartan overlords. Some say that the Messenians and Laconians were once proud people. So, it was not a surprise that resentment simmered over time. When Sparta was struggling during a massive earthquake in 464 BCE, the helots took this as an opportunity to strike. Unfortunately, the Spartans proved to be mightier; the uprising was unsuccessful.

The Spartans decided to make their cruelty to the helots even clearer. Plutarch described a scene where the Spartans forced the helots to drink excessive amounts of wine until they were drunk. They were then paraded during public messes, known as syssitia—an event where Spartiates would gather every day to share meals in communal dining halls. This was said to serve as examples of the disgraceful effects of excessive drinking and drunkenness. The helots were also often forced to sing and dance in degrading ways during banquets and other public events.

The Roman historian Livy provided a more daunting account of Spartan oppression. According to his writings, helots who were accused of desertion were usually subjected to public whippings. However, their punishment did not end there. After the whippings, they were immediately put to death. There was also an episode where two thousand helots mysteriously disappeared. Some believe that they were victims of a mass killing.

In order to instill fear in the helots, the Spartans established the Krypteia. Although its exact origins are debated, some historians suggest that the Krypteia’s roots trace back to the Dorian invasion of the Peloponnesian Peninsula. It was initially created as a guerrilla force tasked with suppressing resistance among conquered peoples before evolving into a more formalized institution. Other scholars claim that Krypteia’s origins did not stretch that far back. Instead, they suggest that it was developed in the 6th century BCE when Sparta was heavily focused on consolidating its power.

While its origin is still unclear, we can be sure that the Krypteia drew its members from the agoge. This infamous Spartan education and training system was designed to transform Spartan boys into warriors capable of upholding the city-state’s military supremacy. Training was compulsory for all male Spartiates, beginning when boys reached the age of seven. They were removed from their families and lived communally with each other. These boys had to go through years of relentless physical and mental challenges. They were expected to come out of the program exceptionally disciplined, obedient, and, of course, masters of martial skill—both with weapons and in unarmed combat. Spartan men typically graduated from the agoge at the age of thirty; this was also when they were allowed to marry and start a family.

Candidates for the Krypteia were chosen from this highly disciplined pool of young men. It is safe to assume that the selection criteria were stringent. Only those who showed signs of exceptional leadership, combat prowess, and a knack for stealth were selected. Once their names were listed to join the Krypteia, these young men would undergo additional training. Although details of this stage of training remain shrouded in secrecy, it likely involved advanced training in survival, espionage, and assassinations, which were all necessary for their future missions.

The Krypteia’s main goal seemed straightforward: its members had to identify and eliminate potential helot leaders or agitators before they could fuel a rebellion. Oftentimes, the Krypteia worked under the cover of darkness; this was when they infiltrated helot communities. Usually working alone or in small groups, the Krypteia members were armed lightly. They carried only a dagger and minimal supplies that were enough for them to survive. Secrecy was their utmost priority. The Krypteia members had to conceal their true identities. Precision was also important when it came to assassinations; the Krypteia had to ensure that they eliminated their targets without leaving any traceable evidence.

Despite operating in secret, the Krypteia succeeded in creating an atmosphere of constant fear among the helots. With the removal of so many helot leaders, successful rebellions were considered almost impossible. Perhaps consumed by fear of getting slaughtered by the Krypteia, some helots refrained from even listening to early plans of revolt. Instead of facing the Spartan secret service’s wrath, they chose to obey their masters.

The Krypteia also played a role during wartime, with its members often engaged in espionage and reconnaissance. They focused on gathering intelligence that proved invaluable to Spartan military campaigns. Scholars suggest that the Krypteia likely played a key role in the Greco-Persian Wars. During this chaotic period of war, the members of the Krypteia were the ones responsible for conducting covert operations, which eventually contributed to the Spartan victory at the Battle of Plataea in 479 BCE. The same could also be said during the Peloponnesian War, where the Krypteia, again, were instrumental in counter-espionage operations against Athens.

Of course, everything had its ending. The Krypteia saw its influence gradually wane when Sparta faced a series of catastrophic defeats and political issues. However, it was the Battle of Leuctra in 371 BCE that marked the turning point. When the Thebans decisively defeated the mighty Spartans, the Messenian helots were liberated. This was undoubtedly bad news for Sparta since the people had long relied on helot labor to sustain both its economy and lifestyle.

With the loss of Messenia and its agricultural wealth, Sparta was plunged into an episode of economic and social crisis. Due to years of warfare and strict citizenship requirements, the population of the Spartiate class dwindled to only a thousand adult males. Sparta could no longer sustain its warrior culture. These major changes eventually rendered the Krypteia irrelevant.

The Battle of Tegyra

When speaking of Sparta, one could not help but think of its military prowess. The Spartans forged their reputation by emerging victorious in countless battles, even those where the Spartans were greatly outnumbered. The famous Leonidas, for one, went down in history as one of the greatest Spartan kings. With only three hundred Spartans to spare, he successfully held off a massive Persian force, though victory in the famed Battle of Thermopylae eventually belonged to the Persians. Despite this reputation as an invincible force, there was a moment when this myth was broken. This time around, it was not the Persians but the Thebans who proved that Spartan steel could definitely be bent and broken despite their strong numbers.

Thebes had a rather complicated history with Sparta. It was once a key member of the Boeotian League, which was formed in 550 BCE. However, when Thebes fell under Spartan control in 382 BCE, many Theban leaders fled to Athens. Unwilling to bow down to the Spartans, they bided their time, waiting for the golden opportunity to reclaim their city. That moment came in 378 BCE under the command of Pelopidas. A daring leader, Pelopidas led 300 exiled Thebans back to their homeland and launched a nighttime assault on the Spartan garrison of 1,500 soldiers. Following this, Thebes was free from Spartan claws once more.

The Spartan kings, Agesilaus II and Cleombrotus, were quick to acknowledge the danger posed by Thebes. They launched several campaigns to retake the city and reestablish Spartan control over Boeotia. This, however, failed, leading to other Boeotian cities like Tanagra, Haliartus, Lebadea, and Coronea to make a bold move—they expelled their own Spartan garrisons. By 375 BCE, these cities had announced their allegiance to Thebes. The Boeotian League was reborn. Seeking to secure their influence and power, the Thebans—now led by Pelopidas and his close ally Epaminondas—set their sights on Orchomenus, the last Boeotian city under Spartan influence.

When word reached Pelopidas that a large Spartan garrison had left Orchomenus for a battle in Locris, he immediately planned his strategy. Since the city was left undefended, Pelopidas rode to the city. Ancient sources wrote that he took with him three hundred members of the Sacred Band. As an elite Theban infantry unit, the Sacred Band was popular for its extreme bravery and cohesion. The unit was composed of 150 pairs of soldiers, each bound by ties of friendship and love. This made them fiercely loyal and almost unbeatable in battle.

Upon nearing Orchomenus, Pelopidas learned that the city was far from defenseless; additional Spartan reinforcements had arrived to protect the city. The Thebans lacked siege weapons at the time, and coupled with insufficient manpower to take an entire city by force, Pelopidas ordered a retreat. Perhaps hoping to avoid direct contact with the Spartans, Pelopidas led his men north of Lake Copais.

However, in a twist of fate, Pelopidas received a messenger who carried bad news. The Spartan army knew the Thebans were just miles away from them and were marching straight toward them. Knowing that retreat was no longer viable, Pelopidas chose to fight.

Since both sides were caught off guard by the encounter, it is safe to assume that they had little time to plan. The Spartans were led by the polemarchs (commanders) Gorgoleon and Theopompus. They numbered between 1,200 and 1,800 troops compared to the Thebans, who only had 500 men at most. The Spartans were confident. Not only were they well trained and had experience from countless battles, but they also greatly outnumbered their enemy. However, Pelopidas had the strength of the Sacred Band.

The armies clashed. Details of the encounter are scarce, but some accounts described that the Theban cavalry managed to harass the Spartan flanks long enough until the Sacred Band was in position to strike. With precision and speed, the elite Theban infantry attacked the Spartan right flank, eventually killing the polemarchs. The Spartans were now on the battlefield without their commanders. It did not take long for them to falter, giving way for Pelopidas and the Thebans to gain the upper hand.

In another version of the battle, records narrate that instead of attacking the Spartan flanks, Pelopidas had his forces focus on the Spartan center. Using tactics almost similar to those employed by the Theban general Pagondas at the Battle of Delium (424 BCE), the Sacred Band successfully drove a wedge through the Spartan ranks. This broke their formation, thus leaving the flanks completely vulnerable for the Theban cavalry to wreak havoc on the Spartans.

Regardless of the exact strategy, the outcome of the battle was the same. The Spartans, despite their numerical superiority, were defeated by the Thebans. Those who survived managed to flee the battlefield and regroup with the garrison at Orchomenus. Nevertheless, the Thebans succeeded in proving to the world that the Spartans were far from invincible. This victory at Tegyra was only the beginning. Thebes would continue to challenge Spartan dominance, eventually reshaping the balance of power in the ancient Greek world.

Gylippus of Sparta

It was 415 BCE, and Athens had just launched one of its most ambitious campaigns: the Sicilian expedition. The Athenians had suffered the plague, and the Peloponnesian War was not going well for them. They believed that by securing Syracuse, a city of immense resources, Athens could once again tip the balance of the ongoing chaos in their favor.

The invasion of Sicily was spearheaded by a few Athenian generals, including Nicias, Alcibiades, and Lamachus. The campaign itself was beset by obstacles in the beginning, such as disagreements between the generals and logistical problems, but with a fleet of over 130 triremes and thousands of soldiers, Athens achieved some success in the early stage of the expedition. However, Syracuse was not ready to back down that easily. The people mounted a fierce resistance against the Athenians. Nevertheless, perhaps believing in their superior naval power and resources, the Athenians pressed on, hoping that they would eventually defeat the Sicilian defenders and claim the city for themselves.

Finally realizing the gravity of their situation, Syracuse requested help from its allies, especially Sparta. The Spartans were well aware of the strategic importance of Sicily. If Athens succeeded, the city-state would have no difficulties securing a foothold in the western Mediterranean, which would threaten Sparta even more.

In the meantime, Athenian General Alcibiades had been recalled to Athens. Upon learning that he was charged with sacrilege—the controversial general was said to have mutilated and mocked the sacred statues of the Eleusinian Mysteries—Alcibiades made the decision to defect to Athens’ enemy, Sparta. He then advised the Spartans on how to stop the Athenian campaign in Sicily, which was by appointing a certain general named Gylippus.

Gylippus was not an ordinary Spartan. His family had a rather bad reputation—his father had been exiled for accepting bribes—but Gylippus managed to create a name of his own through years of military experience. When the seasoned general was appointed as the leader of Syracuse’s defense, Sparta was a step closer to ensuring Athens suffered a massive defeat.

With only a small contingent of troops, Gylippus’s arrival almost immediately boosted the morale of the Syracusans who had been trapped in the city. The Spartan commander’s first priority was simple: break the Athenian siege of Syracuse. Gylippus began working right away. Upon surveying the battlefield, the seasoned general found the Athenians’ key weakness: their reliance on maintaining control over their siege works. Without wasting more time, Gylippus launched his troops—composed of infantry and cavalry—to harass the Athenian forces. The plan was to disrupt the Athenians’ efforts to complete their encirclement of the city. Gylippus also paid attention to Syracuse’s fortifications. He oversaw the construction of counter-walls that could render the Athenian siege lines ineffective.

Gylippus soon witnessed the Athenians falter. The Athenian forces did not lose just one but two of their leaders. Alcibiades had defected shortly after the expedition began, and Lamachus died during one of the skirmishes that took place outside the city walls. Morale was depleting. Disease soon wreaked havoc throughout the Athenian camp, further diminishing their numbers. With their supplies running terribly low and reinforcements arriving late, the Athenians began to lose hope.

Gylippus made use of every one of the Athenians’ weaknesses. After successfully coordinating with Spartan allies and Corinthian forces, they agreed to send reinforcements and ships to improve Syracuse’s defense. With these additional resources in hand, Gylippus made the decision to fight the Athenian navy. Under his command, the Syracusan fleet engaged the Athenian fleet in the Great Harbor of Syracuse. Athens suffered terribly during this series of brutal naval battles. The Athenian fleet had once been known as one of the ancient world’s greatest naval powers; what remained of the Athenian fleet was only splintered hulls and desperate crews.

Nicias attempted to withdraw his forces, but Gylippus was not planning to show mercy. Knowing that victory was near, he ordered multiple blockades on the escape routes, both by land and sea. The Athenians, realizing there was no way out, launched one final assault. It ended in catastrophe. Those who attempted to flee overland were hunted down and captured by Gylippus’s men. As for Nicias and his commander, Demosthenes, they were both taken prisoner. Gylippus was said to have sought ways to spare the Athenian commanders, but he was overruled. Nicias and Demosthenes were executed.

The Athenians had set sail for Sicily with tens of thousands of soldiers and crews. Yet, only a handful of them managed to return home. Those who had been captured were either killed or enslaved. Gylippus returned to Sparta a hero. However, his later life contrasted with his military achievements.

Shortly after the end of the Peloponnesian War, Gylippus was accused of embezzlement. Sparta had received funds from Persia throughout the war—the empire sided with Sparta so that Athens would fall—and these resources were entrusted to Gylippus. According to ancient records, Gylippus was said to have tampered with the money bags. He secretly took some of the funds and resealed the bags, making them appear as if nothing had been taken.

Unfortunately for Gylippus, his tricks were discovered. He was forced to go into exile, a fate mirroring that of his father’s.

​

Chapter 5 – The Story of Neaira

Women in ancient Greece, especially in Athens, lived a life that was largely confined to the home. They were restricted from meddling in public affairs. Their daily lives basically revolved around managing the household and caring for their children. While men could carve their life achievements by participating in politics, war, and philosophy, Greek women, for the most part, had little independence or opportunity to leave their names in history. Public roles for women were very rare, and most of them were limited to religious duties, such as serving as priestesses.

It is safe to say that, even compared to Rome, Greece was more restrictive when it came to women’s visibility in history. Yes, women were also treated unequally in Roman society, but history remembers women like Livia Drusilla and Agrippina the Younger, both of whom have been recognized as two of the most influential figures in the imperial court. In Greece, however, only men could debate and make decisions in the Agora; women could not even comment on state affairs, let alone participate in them.

Helen of Troy, Medea, and Penelope are some of the names that likely come to mind whenever we think of female figures from ancient Greece, yet these are (more than likely) mythological figures. Some may recall the name Aspasia of Miletus, but many often remember her largely due to her association with her husband, Pericles, rather than for her own intellect or influence. More often than not, her reputation in ancient sources was rather controversial; it was common for the wife or partner of ancient leaders to be subject to criticism.

As for Neaira, her story is almost like a whisper. Few have heard of her name. However, it is this silence that makes her story so unique. We know parts of Neaira’s life primarily because of a speech made by Apollodorus of Acharnae, an Athenian politician. However, his accounts of her were far from positive. In his speech, which was preserved in the Demosthenic corpus—a collection of speeches used in law courts, political debates, or other public forums—Apollodorus talked about her early life as a courtesan and her struggles. Yet, they were talked about not to offer a glimpse into her life but to tarnish her reputation and convince the jury to side with him.

Neaira’s story began in the ancient city of Corinth. Although it once thrived as a bustling hub of commerce and culture, Corinth was infamous for its indulgence and vice. In contrast to Athens, where the lives of women were restricted, Corinth offered some freedom to women, especially those who chose to be courtesans. Although courtesans were often exploited for their beauty and charm, some chose this path so that they could at least gain some kind of public visibility and influence rather than being forever confined to domestic life and excluded from all public affairs.

As for Neaira, however, she did not choose to be a courtesan. We know nothing about her childhood and family except the fact that she was sold into slavery at a very young age. Her journey as a courtesan started when she was bought by a woman named Nikarete. It was said that Nikarete was once a slave, but after gaining her freedom, she began to shape her influence and wealth by becoming a madam. She could often be seen at the Corinth slave market, where she would buy young girls to be trained as hetaerae, the celebrated courtesans who mingled with the elite. Unlike common prostitutes who were confined to brothels, hetaerae enjoyed a level of social mobility and independence. Hetaerae accompanied the men who paid for them to symposia (drinking parties common in ancient Greece) and games. Neaira once accompanied a young aristocrat named Simus of Thessaly to the Great Panathenaea (a Greek festival) of 378 in Athens.

Many claimed Nikarete to have had a good pair of eyes. She could see the potential of young girls just by looking at them. The madam was also adept at creating the illusion of respectability. She bought the girls from the slave market, but she would often claim that she adopted them. Nikarete often referred to the girls as her daughters. This way, she could increase their value and attract influential customers. It was more likely for wealthy patrons to pay a premium price for the company of young women they viewed as “untarnished” and “refined” rather than a simple slave from the market who had been sold for only a few drachmae.

Neaira became one of the madam’s most prized daughters. She was groomed well. Other than training in the art of engaging conversation, she was also taught music and dance. Combined with her beauty and charm, Neaira quickly became one of Nikarete’s most sought-after protégés alongside two others, Metaneira and Anteia. Apollodorus himself claimed that Neaira was highly sought after by wealthy men to the point where they were all willing to pay outrageous amounts of money for her company.

A Greek hetaira attending to her client.

Metropolitan Museum of Art, CC BY 2.5 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Banqueters_Met_1979.11.8.jpg

But still, Neaira’s life was far from secure. Her life was under the control of Nikarete, and all of her movements were dictated by the demands of her patrons. Every drachma that she earned from her work did not flow into her own coffers but straight into Nikarete’s pockets. However, things were about to change when Nikarete decided that she had had enough of profiting from Neaira’s beauty and charm. Nikarete decided to sell Neaira. This was commonly practiced by Corinthian madams, especially when the hetaera had passed their prime years. However, instead of landing in the slave market yet again, Neaira was instead sold to two men who were once frequent patrons. Known as Timanoridas and Eukrates, the two had grown extremely fond of her and did not think twice about taking her off Nikarete’s hands. They bought Neaira for 3,000 drachmae (equivalent to somewhere between $25,000 and $175,000 in today’s time), which was undoubtedly an extraordinary amount for purchasing a person.

Of course, Timanoridas and Eukrates eventually planned on building their own family. They had met their soulmates and wished to marry them. They knew that keeping Neaira as a companion could only bring problems. However, the two were so fond of her that they did not have the heart to cast her aside. So, they chose a middle path. Timanoridas and Eukrates offered her freedom but on one condition. Neaira had to buy her way out of servitude. Despite appearing better than outright abandonment, Neaira was thrown into a moment of desperation. She could see freedom in front of her, but she had to pay for it using money she did not have.

Not known for giving up, Neaira chose to turn to her former patrons. Leveraging on their lingering affections for her and perhaps a pinch of their generosity, Neaira sought funds from them. One of the men she contacted was a wealthy Athenian named Phrynion. Along with several others who had once been enamored with her, they each contributed a portion of their wealth until Neaira could finally meet the price demanded by Timanoridas and Eukrates. And so, with enough money, Neaira was finally free after years of servitude.

Perhaps eager to turn a new chapter, Neaira chose to leave Corinth for Athens. However, she did not go to the city alone. Neaira went with Phrynion, one of the men who helped buy her freedom. At first, Phrynion appeared like a benefactor, but as she spent week after week with him, Neaira began to see his darker side. It is easy to assume that Phrynion did not see Neaira as a partner but rather as a possession.

Apollodorus described a harrowing incident that befell her. Phrynion had been invited to attend a grand feast hosted by the Athenian general Chabrias. He accepted the invitation and brought Neaira with him. Since the general was celebrating his recent victory at the Pythian Games, the feast was very opulent. Influential men were mingling, and wine flowed endlessly into their goblets. Neaira, having spent most of her early years as a hetaera, was well accustomed to such events, so she mingled with the guests as she always had. At one point, Neaira, who was also intoxicated from all that wine, fell asleep. This was when the night took a darker turn. While unconscious, she was assaulted by both guests of the feast and a few slaves. Phrynion was present when this all happened, yet he did nothing.

This was only one of the many mistreatments and humiliations that Neaira had to go through under Phrynion’s roof. It was clear that the man saw her as nothing more than a trophy to flaunt. He cared very little for her dignity and well-being. So, around 372 BCE (possibly only a year after she arrived in Athens), Neaira decided enough was enough. She packed everything she could carry—her clothing, jewelry, and a few other items that belonged to Phrynion—and left Athens. She was also said to have brought along two maids.

Neaira’s next chapter of her life brought her to Megara. While the city looked like it could finally offer her peace and a sense of autonomy, Neaira could not help but think of the risk she faced for leaving Phrynion. As a woman without any influential familial ties, Neaira was exposed to challenges that could drag her into the confines of slavery once more. But at least in Megara, there was a distance between her and the abuses of Phrynion.

Here, Neaira found herself working in an industry with which she was familiar. She became a hetaera once more to sustain herself. However, times were harsh since Greece was deeply embroiled in war. Neaira began to think of Athens again. Although the city-state was also involved in the war, Athens remained better off economically compared to Megara. However, returning to the city meant there was a possibility she would face Phrynion once again. Despite the man not having legal claim over her as her master—technically, Neaira had purchased her own freedom—Phrynion could easily accuse her of so many things, such as stealing, and those around him would believe every word he said. In the Greek world, once accused, even if baseless, one’s life would be ruined. Neaira knew that in order to set foot in Athens again, she had to find protection.

Perhaps the Olympian gods heard her plea. Protection eventually reached her in the form of Stephanos. Hailing from Athens, Stephanos had come to Megara and stayed with Neaira for a time. It was unknown what the two discussed, but Stephanos was said to have laid out a solution to Neaira’s problem. Neaira could return to Athens with Stephanos and live in his household. She was not obligated to accept this option. She was, after all, free and no longer confined to any masters or madams. Neaira could choose to remain in Megara, but her decision to follow Stephanos suggests that she believed in him. She probably saw a better future in Athens. Whether it was security or companionship, Neaira soon set off to Athens and shared a roof with Stephanos.

As she had foreseen, Phrynion soon discovered she had returned to the city. He was headstrong about taking her back into his household. Stephanos, however, was not planning on letting him do so easily. He resisted and argued that Neaira had never been his property but was instead a free woman. Enraged, Phrynion was said to have planned on challenging this claim in court. He was determined that he could prove Neaira had no right to claim independence. What followed is obscure, yet Apollodorus told us that an agreement was eventually reached through arbitration. It was decided that Neaira was indeed her own mistress or kyria (Greek: κυρία). However, the arbitrators did compel her to split her time between Stephanos and Phrynion. So, despite being acknowledged as a free woman, Neaira was somehow neither free nor entirely bound. Her own desires were never considered in the arrangement. Neaira obeyed the arrangement, though at some point, Phyrnion’s name went off the record. The reasons behind this remain unknown, but it is possible that he simply died.

We will likely never be entirely sure about the details of her life following this. However, we do know that Neaira was forced to face yet another obstacle when she entered her fifties. Neaira was brought to trial. This was when Apollodorus delivered his speech. It is also worth noting that Apollodorus knew Stephanos from a couple of incidents that took place years earlier. In 348 BCE, for instance, Stephanos had publicly accused Apollodorus of sponsoring an illegal policy. As a result, Apollodorus was ordered to pay a hefty fine. As if this did not already tarnish his reputation, Apollodorus was also said to have been accused by Stephanos again in 346 BCE. This time, Stephanos claimed he had murdered an enslaved woman. Unlike his previous accusation, this one was dismissed due to conflicting testimonies. We will never know whether the accusation was true, but it is safe to assume that Apollodorus saw Stephanos as a massive thorn in his side.

Sometime between 343 and 340 BCE, Apollodorus decided to point the finger back at Stephanos and, of course, Neaira. Since it was known that Stephanos and Neaira lived together, Apollodorus accused them of having married illegally. Under Athenian law, this was a serious offense. Marriages between Athenian citizens and foreigners were strictly prohibited. This law, enacted sometime in 450 BCE, sought to preserve the exclusivity of the citizen body and protect its citizenship. It was also enacted so that the Athenians could protect their access to political rights and inheritance.

Interestingly, Neaira was said to have arrived in court with two men and a woman. They were believed to have been her children, and they all lived with Stephanos in Athens. The uncertainty of whether they were the product of her union with Stephanos or not became the foundation of Apollodorus’s case.

An 18th-century painting depicting a different hetaira (possibly Phryne) on trial.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jean-L%C3%A9on_G%C3%A9r%C3%B4me,_Phryne_revealed_before_the_Areopagus_(1861)_-_01.jpg

However, the claim that the children were in fact Neaira’s raises doubts among many. Neaira began her profession as a hetaera under Nikarete ever since she was a young girl. It was highly unlikely that Nikarete would keep her if pregnancy ever occurred. Such a condition could have definitely jeopardized her marketability and physical appearance, diminishing her value as a courtesan. Even if she had become pregnant, it would be more realistic for her to abandon her child through the practice of exposure. She was, after all, penniless since every coin paid for her service went straight to Nikarete. Some might suggest that they were her children with Phrynion, but it is hard to imagine that Stephanos would have willingly supported children who brought them no benefit.

Apollodorus drew upon the arrangement that Stephanos and Neaira had agreed on when they were in Megara years prior. Apollodorus claimed that through this pact, Neaira managed to persuade Stephanos to raise her children as Athenian citizens. In return, Neaira would remain with Stephanos under the same roof. This arrangement set in motion their illegal marriage. Apollodorus had nothing to support this claim other than his words. He was not even present when Stephanos and Neaira met in Megara, so how could he know what their arrangements were? Many questioned the credibility of his account.

Since there was no evidence that the two were ever married—there was no such thing as written contracts or official ceremonies when it came to marriage in Athens—Apollodorus could only claim it by highlighting how Stephanos treated the children. In ancient Greece, it was common for sons from legal marriages to be introduced to their father’s phratry (kinship group). They were then registered as citizens when they became adults. Daughters, on the other hand, were typically married to citizen husbands. Apollodorus claimed that Stephanos had done all of the above for the children. Phano, the only daughter, was even married twice, with dowries provided each time. To Apollodorus, this was clear evidence that Stephanos and Neaira had indeed entered into an illegal marriage.

However, it is weird that no one ever raised objections in the decades after Neaira’s return to Athens. If the children were the offspring of Neaira, why did no one in Stephanos’s phratry ever question it? This led some to conclude that the children were, in fact, not Neaira’s but rather Stephanos’s children from his previous marriage with an Athenian woman. Even Apollodorus was ready to acknowledge this possibility and drop the case—if Stephanos could prove it. It was said that Apollodorus proposed torturing two of Neaira’s slaves, the ones she brought from Phrynion’s household. He was certain that the slaves would tell the truth. Stephanos, however, refused to do so. Whether it was an act of compassion since the slaves had been through so much with Neaira, an action to protect the truth, or perhaps just a choice to avoid them giving out false information—most people would say anything if they were desperate—we can never be certain.

This was not the only claim Apollodorus made to support his case. Another sensational allegation made by the Athenian politician was that Neaira never stopped working as a hetaera. Apollodorus claimed that Stephanos worked together with her. While Neaira’s main task was to lure men, Stephanos would orchestrate schemes to extort her clients. As per usual, these were nothing more than baseless accusations; no witnesses were ever presented to support this.

Again, Apollodorus turned his attention to the daughter, Phano. He condemned Phano’s participation in major religious rites in Athens. In his eyes, Phano was Neaira’s daughter, so her status as a non-citizen of Athens restricted her from taking part in such activities. This was considered sacrilegious under Athenian law. Apollodorus’s strategy was simple: he hoped to inflame the jury’s outrage by narrating how this family flagrantly violated societal norms. Yet, the question remains. If Phano had never been a citizen, why had the religious authorities remained quiet all that time? This silence, much like the lack of objections to the children’s citizenship, raises doubts about Apollodorus’s version of events.

Unfortunately, without Stephano’s defense speech, we can never uncover the full picture of his and Neaira’s lives. It is indeed frustrating that we will likely never know the trial’s resolution. It is plausible that, due to Apollodorus’s lack of concrete evidence, Neaira was allowed to return to her life, with this trial being the last obstacle she had to endure. However, it is also hard to dismiss the possibility of Apollodorus succeeding in swaying the jury, especially if he played on their prejudice and fears.

​

Chapter 6 – The Daunting Fall of Influential Greek Figures

Aside from its architectural wonders, epic battles, and myths that made it into books and movies, ancient Greece also had a long list of big personalities. From war generals to philosophers, thinkers, poets, and kings, they all left their mark on history in the most unforgettable ways. However, despite their brilliance and ambition, not all of them were bestowed with the glorious ending they might have imagined. Some of them met their demise rather ironically, adding an unexpected twist to their legends and stories. Take the Ionian mathematician Pythagoras, for instance. His life was all about numbers, philosophy, and harmony. But his death? That is a whole different story.

The Death of the Great Pythagoras

By the 5th century BCE, Pythagoras was considered the most influential philosopher in Croton, a Greek city in southern Italy. He and his followers, referred to as the Pythagoreans, were best known for their esoteric teachings that blended mathematics, music, and spirituality. Interestingly, the Pythagoreans operated almost like a secret society. However, their secretive practices and growing influence over local politics eventually alienated the wider populace. According to ancient sources, this was where the chaos began. A violent uprising erupted in 510 BCE when the citizens of Croton targeted Pythagoras and his followers. The angry mob was said to have cornered them in a temple. What happened afterward, however, remains debated, as ancient records were often written with a blend of both facts and myths.

Pythagoras teaching a class of women.

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One version talked about how the Croton citizens burned the meeting place of the Pythagorean schools. While some claimed Pythagoras was absent during the time—he was said to have been on the island Delos—others narrate a scene where he and his small group of followers narrowly escaped the blaze. They fled to the city of Locris, where they pleaded for sanctuary. Unfortunately, their request was denied, so they made their way to Metapontum. Here, Pythagoras and his followers found refuge in the Temple of the Muses. Starvation struck the Pythagoreans, but rather than desecrating the sacred site for food, they chose to die.

Another version of the story, recorded by the philosopher Porphyry, claimed that Pythagoras died by his own hand. Failing to find an escape route as the flames consumed their meeting place, the Pythagoreans chose to lie down on the ground, forming a safe path for their master to escape. Pythagoras managed to escape to safety, but as he turned around to see the bodies of his followers, the mathematician was immediately overwhelmed by grief. Unable to bear the loss, Pythagoras took his own life.

However, the most popular tale of his death revolved around fava beans. This story suggests that Pythagoras managed to escape from the burning of his meeting place. The angry mob was not planning on letting him live, though, so they pursued him relentlessly. Pythagoras ran but halted when he came upon a field of fava beans. Long believed that these beans held the souls of the dead, Pythagoras refused to continue his escape, afraid that he would trample upon the poor beans. When the angry mob caught up with him, they did not think twice about killing the philosopher.

A 16th-century drawing of Pythagoras turning his face away from the fava beans.

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To this date, his demise remains unsolved; no one has been able to uncover the real cause of his death. Regardless, it is safe to assume that he did not die peacefully. Some said it was an ironic end for the man who sought to unveil the universe’s secret harmony.

Alcibiades, an Athenian Commander Hailed Both as a Hero and a Traitor

Alcibiades could sense that his end was near. He had taken refuge in a modest home in the heart of Phrygia (located in west-central Anatolia). Alcibiades was once the darling of Athens. A charismatic general gifted with both looks and brilliance, he had led the city-state to victory in many conflicts. But now he was a man in exile, hunted and despised.

Alcibiades (left) and his mentor, Socrates.

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What seemed to be a normal day in 404 BCE quickly took a turn for the worse with the arrival of assassins near his house. These assassins were thought to have been sent by Pharnabazus, the Persian satrap of Phrygia. Pharnabazus initially welcomed Alcibiades when he arrived to seek protection in Phrygia. However, things changed when he was pressured by Lysander, a Spartan admiral who feared that Alcibiades would regain influence in the fragile balance of power in Greece. Lysander persuaded the Persian satrap into thinking that Alcibiades was nothing more than a liability. So, the assassins were sent, tasked to return only when Alcibiades’s body had touched the ground.

The assassins set Alcibiades’s quarters ablaze, yet the Athenian managed to escape the fire. Armed with only a dagger—or a sword according to some sources—and his cloak wrapped around his arm, acting as a shield, Alcibiades rushed toward his attackers. The assassins were caught off guard by his sudden emergence from the fire and fled at first before standing their ground upon finding a safe distance. They then unleashed a flurry of arrows, which pierced the Athenian’s torso. Alcibiades’s corpse was left on the very spot he fell until his mistress, Timandra, found him and buried his remains.

Alcibiades’s life was not always filled with obstacles; he had not always been an outcast. He had actually been a respected military leader and statesman. Born into a wealthy and influential family in Athens, it was not a surprise that he had been groomed for greatness from a young age. Yet, his insatiable ambition and tendency to place self-interest above loyalty became his undoing. Thucydides claimed that he was over ambitious when he proposed the ill-fated Sicilian expedition, which he proved to be right about since the campaign ended in a catastrophic defeat. However, before the expedition reached its end, Alcibiades had already switched sides. Fleeing Athens after being charged with sacrilege, the Athenian commander offered his services to Sparta.

Alcibiades assassinated by Persian soldiers.

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Alcibiades enjoyed his time in Sparta at first. He advised the Spartans on strategies to counter Athens; he was said to have been credited with so much honor that some Spartan soldiers grew discontent. When rumors of his affair with the Spartan king’s wife began to surface, Alcibiades was forced to flee once more.

This time around, he defected to the Persians, serving as the adviser to the satrap Tissaphernes. At the same time, he was also negotiating his return to Athens. He promised the city-state that he could secure Persian support for Athens. His political maneuvering eventually impressed the Athenian oligarchs who controlled the fleet at Samos. They recalled him in 411 BCE, hoping that his aid could help them turn the tide of war. Indeed, once back in his homeland, Alcibiades led a series of successful campaigns, thus restoring his reputation. However, his success would not linger for long. Later on, the rival Athenians turned against him, and he was exiled yet again.

Alcibiades then made his way to Thrace. Once more, he tried to help his fellow Athenians by warning them about an incoming Spartan attack. Yet, his words were ignored, and the Athenians were decimated. By this time, he knew Thrace was no longer safe for him. This was when he took refuge in Phrygia, which, little did he know, would be the last location he would ever set his eyes on.

Themistocles

The Battle of Salamis had just begun, and Themistocles stood on the prow of his trireme, commanding his men to strike at the enemy. The narrow straits had purposely been chosen by the hero for their strategic advantage. He knew the Persians would find it difficult to steer the ships. Making use of both speed and their knowledge of the region, the Greeks soon outmaneuvered the Persian vessels. They rammed the Persian fleet and sank the ships. Others were boarded by the Greeks. In the end, the Greeks succeeded in sinking over four hundred of the Persian ships while losing only forty of their own.

An illustration of Greek triremes at the Battle of Salamis.

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Following the battle, Xerxes postponed his campaigns into Greece, giving the city-states more time to unite. Themistocles returned to Athens as the savior of Greece.

Unlike Alcibiades, who had been born into an already influential family, Themistocles was raised by a rather modest family. Themistocles’s political savvy and knack for appealing to the common people allowed him to climb the challenging political ladder in Athens, which was typically dominated by aristocrats. Even as a young politician, Themistocles felt the growing threat that the Persians posed to his homeland, so he wasted no time in proposing the strengthening of Athens’ navy. Upon hearing news of the newly discovered silver mines at Laurium, Themistocles persuaded the city to use a portion of its wealth to invest in a stronger fleet of triremes, which ultimately played a decisive role in the Greek victory at Salamis.

However, not everyone was fond of the great general. Some said it was also Themistocles’s growing arrogance and penchant for self-promotion that caused him to be alienated by several leaders of Athens. He was eventually accused of corruption; he was believed to have accepted bribes from Greek allies, extorting funds under the guise of Athenian protection, and manipulated the Oracle of Delphi to sway political decisions in his favor. After losing more support, Themistocles was ostracized (a practice in Athens where citizens were given a chance to vote an individual into exile).

An illustration of Themistocles.

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Forced to flee Athens, Themistocles sought refuge among those he had once defeated: the Persians. The Persian king, Artaxerxes I, surprisingly welcomed the Greek hero with open arms, perhaps knowing the value of Themistocles’s experience. The Persian king held him in such high regard that Themistocles was given the governorship over Magnesia. Things, however, changed when Artaxerxes put him in a precarious position. The Persian king allegedly ordered the Greek hero to lead a Persian campaign against his own people.

Themistocles did not have the heart to betray the land he had once called home. So, the Greek hero chose death over dishonor. According to the narratives from ancient sources, Themistocles staged a somber yet ritualistic sacrifice. He sacrificed a bull on an altar in the name of the gods. He then filled a cup with its blood and drank it to his death. This was viewed as his ultimate refusal to turn against his people, even those who had previously ostracized him.

While this account gave the hero a rather dramatic end, other historians claim that after years of enduring strain, Themistocles eventually died of natural causes. Whether it was sickness that robbed his life or foul play involving jealous Persian courtiers, Themistocles never got to redeem himself to the Athenians. While he was branded a traitor by the Athenians, the Spartans remembered his contributions at Salamis and viewed him as a hero.

Cleomenes I, the Spartan King Who Slashed Himself to Death

Cleomenes came to power in the 6th century BCE when the Greek world was in the midst of great instability. His reign left a mark on Sparta. He introduced several reforms and foreign policies that managed to elevate the city’s influence. One of his greatest military achievements was the Battle of Sepeia, where the Spartans defeated their longtime rival, the Argives.

Off the battlefield, Cleomenes knew how to navigate the realms of diplomacy and politics. His decision to support Persian King Darius I secured Sparta’s position in the larger geopolitical landscape. However, Cleomenes could also be unpredictable. He soon betrayed the Persian alliance, which undoubtedly contributed to the decline of Sparta’s foreign relations. Cleomenes was also infamously known to have bribed the Oracle of Delphi so that she would influence decisions in his favor.

Yes, Cleomenes enjoyed many successes in his early years. But as time went on, cracks in his rule began to become apparent. His controversial policies and erratic behavior alienated many of his companions and peers. According to ancient records, the king gradually became mad. Rumors of his instability spread to the civilians. One day, as he walked along the streets of Sparta’s agora, the king was said to have hit anyone he encountered with his staff. Each day, his behavior grew increasingly unpredictable, which eventually forced the Spartan ephors (a board of five magistrates in ancient Sparta in charge of the city-state’s judicial, religious, legislative, and military decisions) to act.

Cleomenes was arrested in the name of protecting the king himself and, in extension, Sparta. While he was in custody, Cleomenes managed to persuade a helot guard to hand him a knife. With this small weapon, the king was said to have mutilated himself to death. The Spartans claimed he slashed not only his belly but also his shins and thighs. To many, this brutal act of suicide was thought to be the result of his madness, but historians claim otherwise. They suspect his madness was nothing more than a fabrication to discredit him posthumously.

There are modern theories that explain his death. Some argue that Cleomenes did not kill himself. Instead, he was a victim of political assassination orchestrated by his half-brother, Leonidas. Others, however, claimed that his gruesome death was a staged spectacle. Cleomenes had broken taboos before, especially when it was discovered that he had bribed the Oracle of Delphi. The Spartans might have staged his self-mutilation so that his death could serve as a cautionary tale against breaking Spartan customs and laws. Another theory is related to his deteriorating mental state. Contemporary sources describe him as erratic, with behaviors that suggest he might have suffered from alcoholism or a neurological disorder. If this theory holds any truth, it lends some credibility to the idea of suicide, though perhaps not in the grotesque form described by Spartan accounts.

Thales of Miletus, the Father of Philosophy Who Fell into a Well

Thales of Miletus was one of the Seven Sages of Greece (a title given to influential philosophers of archaic Greece). Also considered by many to be the father of philosophy, Thales dedicated his life to understanding the natural world through reason rather than mythology alone. He declared that water was the fundamental substance of all things; he claimed that water was the First Cause of all things and the basic substance of the universe, a view that was later discarded by philosophers.

Thales of Miletus listening to Urania, the Muse of Astronomy, revealing to him the secrets of the skies.

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According to Herodotus, Thales once accurately predicted a solar eclipse during a battle between the Lydians and the Medes around 585 BCE. When it happened, the sudden darkening of the sky was said to have abruptly stopped the battle. The Lydians and the Medes thought the occurrence was a sign from the divine to stop fighting. So, they sheathed their weapons and negotiated for peace instead.

However, despite being one of the ancient world’s greatest minds, even Thales himself could not escape the hands of mortality. Plato mentioned a story of a Thracian servant girl who witnessed Thales falling into a well. However, instead of worrying about him, the girl laughed at the incident. She remarked that he was so focused on learning more about the sky that he failed to see what was in front of him. This might only serve as an allegory rather than a historical account; it was probably nothing more than an ancient warning about spending too much time philosophizing without caring about earthly matters.

It is highly likely that Thales met his demise sometime between 550 and 548 BCE. According to the biographer of the Greek philosophers, Diogenes Laërtius, Thales, who was around seventy-eight years old at the time, was attending the fifty-eighth Olympiad Games when he suddenly collapsed. Historians claimed the culprit behind his demise was a combination of old age and heatstroke.

​Pyrrhus of Epirus: The Warrior King Who Died from a Roof Tile

Pyrrhus of Epirus was another one of ancient Greece’s most accomplished kings and military leaders. As the second cousin of Alexander the Great, Pyrrhus was said to have modeled himself after his famous relative. He spent his life pursuing conquests across not only Greece but also Macedonia and Italy. Many agree that his campaigns against Rome forever immortalized his name in the records of history.

A statue of Pyrrhus in Ioannina, Greece.

Jean Housen, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:20140415_ioannina524.JPG

In 279 BCE, Pyrrhus emerged victorious against the Romans in the Battle of Asculum. However, the cost of achieving the victory was immense. While he successfully defeated the entire force of the Roman commander Publius Decius Mus, Pyrrhus’s army suffered devastating losses to the point where he was unable to continue the broader war effectively. Ancient sources talked about his famous remark when he was congratulated for his victory: “If we are victorious in one more battle with the Romans, we shall be utterly ruined.” The outcome of this battle also led to the term Pyrrhic victory. This term describes a triumph so devastating that it feels more like a defeat.

The death of Pyrrhus.

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In 272 BCE, Pyrrhus found himself involved in chaotic street fighting. Eager to seize the city of Argos, the king showcased his best military skills as he made his way through the narrow alleyways. Ancient accounts recalled a scene where an old lady who sat on a rooftop observed his fight with an Argive man. Many believed the lady to be the mother of the Argive soldier, and upon seeing his son almost defeated by the king, she quickly intervened. The old lady threw a piece of roof tile toward Pyrrhus, which knocked him off his horse. The mighty Greek king, with a part of his spine broken, could no longer move; his injury had left him paralyzed. While some said he died simply because of the impact, other ancient writers, such as Plutarch, claimed his death was assured when a Macedonian soldier named Zopyrus stumbled upon the unconscious king and beheaded him.

Aristomenes of Messene

Aristomenes of Messene is best known for his fierce resistance against Spartan domination during the Second Messenian War (c. 685–668 BCE). His status as a king of Messenia was further elevated when he achieved major early victories, including the one at “The Boar’s Barrow” in the plain of Stenyclaurus. His success, however, did not last too long. When the Arcadian king, Aristocrates II, suddenly withdrew his forces, Aristomenes and his people were left with no choice but to face a catastrophic defeat at the battle of the Great Trench. They were forced to retreat. They managed to fortify themselves in the mountain stronghold of Eira, but the Spartans were relentless. They laid attacks on the Messenians there for eleven years.

Nevertheless, Aristomenes never planned on surrendering to the Spartans. Over the years, he led multiple raids. In one encounter, the king and fifty of his companions were captured by the Spartans. They were then thrown into the chasm on Mount Taygetus. Although his companions died, Aristomenes was said to have survived. Legend has it he was saved by an eagle who cushioned his fall. He then made his way to safety by following a fox, which appeared before him to guide his way.

However, there is another account that narrates his escape differently. In this version, Aristomenes was captured during a truce by Cretan auxiliaries of the Spartans. He was then freed because of the devotion of a Messenian girl, who later became his daughter-in-law.

Aristomenes saved by a Messenian girl.

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Even though Aristomenes managed to escape his fate, the hero was unable to turn the tide of the war. By 668 BCE, it was clear that the war had turned against the Messenians. According to the ancient geographer Pausanias, it all went to chaos for the Messenians when Eira was successfully breached by the Spartans. A heavy resistance ensued, which Aristomenes led. Yet, the Messenians were forced to evacuate. Leaving their homeland, they continued their journey and eventually found refuge with their Arcadian allies. Some said the former king of Messenia never stopped searching for ways to reclaim his domain. He was believed to have planned a journey to Sardis and Ecbatana, where he hoped to get aid from the Lydian and Median kings. Yet, fate had already caught up with him, and there was no escape this time around. Aristomenes died in Rhodes.

Chapter 7 – Ancient Greek Technology Revealed

It is common knowledge that the ancient Greeks were master builders. However, what’s truly fascinating is how they managed to create structures that still amaze us today without the help of modern tools or machinery. There were no electric cranes, power tools, or even laser-guided measurements. Instead, they crafted their works using a combination of ingenuity, teamwork, and a deep understanding of mathematics and physics.

Cranes and pulleys, for instance, played an important role in the construction of many structures across ancient Greece. They were used to lift massive blocks of stone, allowing workers to assemble mighty columns and walls that could withstand some natural disasters and also the test of time. These ancient devices, albeit simple in design, were highly effective. The Parthenon is a great example, as it is well known for its grandeur. However, its true brilliance lies in the details. The temple, which dominated the Athenian Acropolis, once had subtle features that reveal the Greeks’ extraordinary understanding of perception, artistry, and mathematics.

What remains of the wondrous Parthenon.

Steve Swayne, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Parthenon_in_Athens.jpg

Constructed in the 5th century BCE in honor of the goddess Athena, the temple’s most fascinating aspect is its connection to the Fibonacci sequence. This mathematical pattern is often associated with natural harmony and beauty. This sequence, where each number is the sum of the two preceding ones (1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, etc.), appears frequently in nature, from the spirals of shells to the arrangement of leaves. This sequence can be seen in the Parthenon, especially in the dimensions of its columns and the number of steps on its base. The ratio of the Parthenon’s length to its width is also close to the golden ratio, a proportion associated with the Fibonacci sequence.

This may suggest that the architects of the temple (Ictinus and Callicrates, who also worked under the supervision of the talented sculptor Phidias) incorporated this principle to achieve some sort of visual balance and proportionality, making the temple appear harmonious and naturally beautiful even if viewers are not consciously aware of it.

The Parthenon also had other fascinating details besides its mathematical precision. The columns, for instance, were never perfectly vertical. Instead, they were purposely constructed to lean slightly inward. If they extended upward, their axes would converge nearly a mile above the temple. This subtle tilt, combined with the curvature of the base and the tapering of the columns, gave way to an optical illusion; even if one focused their gaze on it from any angle, the structure appeared perfectly straight and balanced. Interestingly, even the spaces between the columns were not uniform. They were arranged with slight variations that enhanced the building’s overall harmony.

Phidias showing his work on the Parthenon friezes to his friends.

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At the heart of the grand temple’s artistic achievements is the work done by the master sculptor Phidias. Aside from the intricate carvings and friezes that beautifully adorn the Parthenon, Phidias was also responsible for creating the temple’s crowning masterpiece: the colossal statue of Athena Parthenos. The statue was twelve meters tall and depicted the goddess of wisdom in gold and ivory. She could also be seen holding a smaller statue of Nike (the goddess of victory) in one hand and a shield in the other. The massive statue was then put atop a base that featured intricate reliefs that told the story of Pandora’s birth.

Since myths and legends were deeply embedded in the Greek civilization, Phidias made sure to adorn other parts of the Parthenon with artistic carvings depicting scenes from various Greek myths and Athenian history. The east pediment, for instance, had carvings that narrated the birth of Athena herself from the head of Zeus. The west pediment told the story of the famous contest between Athena and Poseidon, who once vied for the patronage of Athens. Meanwhile, the frieze that ran along the inner colonnade showed scenes of the Panathenaic procession, a grand festival honoring the goddess.

A small model of the Athena Parthenos.

InSapphoWeTrust from Los Angeles, California, USA, CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Scale_model_of_Parthenon_Athena,_Royal_Ontario_Museum_(6222386828).jpg

The Greeks are often celebrated for their construction of temples and theaters, but it is also hard to dismiss their mastery of water management. Since water is one of the most precious resources, the Greeks developed ingenious solutions to ensure its availability and utility. The aqueducts are the greatest example of this; this marvel of engineering is considered to be one of the earliest systems ever designed to transport water over long distances. The Greeks began constructing aqueducts as early as the 6th century BCE. Perhaps the most remarkable example of Greek aqueducts is the Tunnel of Eupalinos on the island of Samos. Over one thousand meters long, it was used to supply the city of Samos with water from the mountains.

To ensure smooth and steady water flow, the Greek aqueducts relied heavily on a combination of gravity and carefully engineered channels. The Greeks incorporated open channels, underground pipes, and clay pipelines in their aqueducts. This ensured the water was transported efficiently, supplying various other public structures in their cities, from public fountains to bathhouses to even private homes.

While it is true that Greeks pioneered many aspects of the aqueduct design, the Romans expanded on these concepts centuries later. Using the ideas born from the Greeks, the Romans went on to create massive aqueduct systems that became iconic symbols of their engineering prowess. Roman aqueducts like the Pont du Gard and the Aqua Appia were both built on Greek principles. The Romans used large-scale arches and elevated structures to transport water over vast distances.

It is also worth noting that Greek aqueducts were not only functional but also reflected a harmonious balance between practicality and aesthetics. These structures often blended in seamlessly with their natural surroundings, mirroring the Greeks’ broader architectural philosophy by emphasizing utility without sacrificing beauty.

When it came to hydraulic engineering, the Greeks showcased their prowess by inventing the clepsydra, or water clock. Just as its name suggests, this device was designed to measure time. The Greeks did so by regulating the flow of water through the narrow opening into or out of a container. The early models of the clepsydra seem rather simple. The Greeks would simply use a container with a hole at the bottom. While this hole allowed water to flow out at a consistent rate, the markings on the inside indicated the passage of time. However, as the years passed by, models became more sophisticated, allowing the Greeks to measure time with greater accuracy.

Two outflow water clocks from the Museum of the Ancient Agora in Athens.

Marsyas, CC BY-SA 2.5 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:AGMA_Clepsydre.jpg

The clepsydra was also used in courtrooms. The Greeks used this device to time speeches. This allowed them to be fair, giving each speaker an equal amount of time to deliver their statements. Aside from courtrooms, public meetings and assemblies also made use of the device to manage discussions efficiently. The clepsydra held scientific significance as well; it provided a reliable means of measuring time for experiments and astronomical observations.

Of course, the usage of this device was not limited only to the Greek world. The Romans and even early Islamic civilizations adopted the idea and improved its design to suit their needs.

​The Antikythera Mechanism: An Ancient Computer

The Antikythera mechanism was once lost. It was not until the early 20th century that the device was finally discovered, left untouched in a shipwreck off the Greek island of Antikythera. Dating to around 150 to 100 BCE, the device is now considered a symbol of ancient Greece’s engineering complexity.

The Antikythera mechanism was a compact bronze device encased in a wooden frame. It contained over thirty interlocking gears that allowed the device to perform precise calculations of celestial movements. On its front, the mechanism featured dials that scholars believe to have been used to track the sun, moon, and planets according to ancient Greek cosmology. There was another separate dial that displayed the different phases of the moon. On the back of the device, one could find two spiraling scales. One was used to track the Metonic cycle—a nineteen-year period of aligning the lunar and solar calendars—while the other showed the Saros cycle, which was used to predict eclipses.

A fragment of the Antikythera mechanism.

No machine-readable author provided. Marsyas assumed (based on copyright claims)., CC BY-SA 3.0 <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:NAMA_Machine_d%27Anticyth%C3%A8re_1.jpg

It is safe to say that this level of precision required a great understanding of astronomy and mechanical engineering. Scholars praise the ancient Greeks for their ability to create gear teeth that were small and consistent enough for the mechanism to perform smoothly. Since the mechanism used a complex system of gears to perform precise calculations, the Antikythera mechanism is considered by many to be a prototype of modern analog computing devices. By turning a hand crank, the device could simulate the natural movements of celestial bodies. This made it a mechanical tool for understanding and tracking the patterns of the heavens, such as predicting eclipses and planetary positions. Its design is similar to later mechanical calculators, showing how physical parts can be used to solve real-world problems, much like early computers.

The Aeolipile (Hero’s Engine)

The aeolipile, also known as the Hero’s engine, was invented by the 1st-century CE engineer Hero of Alexandria. Regarded as the world’s first steam engine, the aeolipile demonstrated the principles of steam propulsion centuries before such technologies would be widely utilized. Although the device itself appeared to be relatively simple, scholars agree that it was brilliantly effective. The aeolipile featured a hollow, spherical vessel mounted on a pivot. Protruding from its surface were two bent nozzles. When water was heated beneath the sphere, the steam that was produced would be channeled into the sphere through the hollow tubes. As the steam escaped through the nozzles, it created thrust, causing the sphere to spin rapidly. However, this device, despite going down in history as the world’s earliest steam engine, was nothing more than a demonstration of physical principles.

The aeolipile was not the only invention that came from the brilliant mind of Hero. The engineer and mathematician also came up with other mechanical devices that were considered centuries ahead of their time. Blending his scientific curiosity with practical application, Hero invented a vending machine. However, instead of dispensing snacks and drinks like the vending machines we see today, Hero’s invention was designed to dispense holy water in temples. Similar to modern vending machines, Hero’s invention also required a coin. Once inserted, a lever would be activated to release a measured amount of water.

An illustration of Hero's aeolipile.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Aeolipile_(from_Pneumatica).jpg

Hero also devised a type of automatic door that was powered by heat and pressure. They were used at temples to “magically” open and close, giving visitors the impression of divine intervention. He also used air, water, and counterweights to create moving figures called automata. They were often used in theaters to further invoke a sense of magic and spectacle among the audience.

All of his inventions and creations were documented in works such as Pneumatica and Automata. These writings detail both the construction and principles behind his inventions. They also made sure that his ideas survived the test of time, becoming the precursor to many other modern devices and machines.

The Archimedes Screw

The innovative Archimedes screw was invented sometime in the 3rd century BCE. This device was beyond revolutionary back then, as it was used for lifting water in agricultural settings. This particular mechanism had a helical blade encased within a hollow cylinder tube. To use it, the Greeks would tilt the tube at an angle and rotate the screw manually, often using a handle. As the screw turned, water would be scooped up from a lower level. It was then carried upward along the spiral blade until it emerged at the top.

A water pump that uses the Archimedes screw mechanism.

Zdravko Pečar, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Irrigation_Pump_in_Egypt_-_1950s.tiff

This invention was very helpful for irrigation and draining marshy areas. It allowed the ancient Greeks to better supply water to their fields or storage tanks. The Archimedes screw’s ability to transport water against gravity made it extremely invaluable in regions with uneven terrain or seasonal flooding.

Although the Archimedes screw—sometimes referred to as the Archimedean screw—had a design that appeared rather simple at a single glance, but the device was agreed by many to be versatile. It required only minimal maintenance and had the ability to handle large volumes of water. Believe it or not, the Archimedes screw is still used today for tasks like wastewater treatment and flood management. Even some amusement park rides, especially those involving water, use this technology.

The Diolkos of Corinth

First constructed in the 6th century BCE, the Diolkos was a stone-paved trackway near the city of Corinth. Used as a route to transport ships overland across the Isthmus of Corinth, the Diolkos was popular back then as a shortcut. By using it, merchants and sailors could save time and avoid the long and treacherous journey around the Peloponnesian Peninsula.

The stone trackway was at least six kilometers long. It featured grooves cut into its surface, which was designed as a guide for wheeled carts that carried the ships. These carts, which were typically made of wood and reinforced with metal, were usually pulled by a group of workers or animals. The grooves along the way ensured stability during transport, while levers and rollers were used to assist in lifting and positioning the ships onto the carts.

What remains of the Diolkos today.

Dan Diffendale, CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Diolkos,_Western_End._Pic_04.jpg

The Diolkos also served a vital role in military logistics. With this trackway, the Greeks were able to deploy naval forces between the Aegean and Ionian Seas more efficiently. However, as time went by, the Diolkos eventually fell into disuse, largely due to the advent of more efficient transport methods.

The Odometer

Many may be familiar with the odometer, though these days, the device often comes in a digital form or a combination of both digital and mechanical. Thousands of years ago, however, the odometer was purely mechanical. The measuring instrument has transformed over the centuries, yet its function remains the same.

The origin of the odometer remains a mystery; no one can prove who invented it. Some suggest it was invented by Archimedes of Syracuse, who lived in the 3rd century BCE, while others attributed it to Hero of Alexandria, who lived over two centuries after Archimedes. Regardless of the inventor, we can be sure that the odometer was once used to measure the distance traveled by vehicles or carts. The odometer was typically mounted on carts or attached to chariots.

A reconstruction of the ancient odometer.

Gts-tg, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Vitruve%27s_odometer,_1st_century_BC,_Roma_(reconstruction).jpg

The odometer was accurate and efficient. Its operation required no additional effort beyond the motion of the vehicle itself. In simple terms, the odometer worked through a series of gears connected to a wheel. As the wheel turned, it activated a mechanism. A pebble would be dropped into a container after a set number of rotations, each corresponding to a fixed distance. This allowed the ancient Greeks to calculate distances for various purposes, from road building to military planning. The odometer was also useful for mapmakers, allowing them to produce more precise maps by measuring distances between key locations.

Chapter 8 – The Cabeiri and Other Lesser-Known Mysteries

Ancient Greece was a land of gods and myths, but beneath the surface of its public religion lay a more enigmatic world—the mystery cults. These secretive groups offered something different from the grand sacrifices and festivals held in honor of the Olympian deities. For those initiated, the mysteries promised personal transformation, hidden knowledge, and often the hope of a better fate after death.

What distinguished these cults was their exclusivity and secrecy. Only initiates could engage in their rites, and they were sworn not to reveal what happened during the ceremonies. This cloak of mystery, along with the rites’ promises of divine connection and cosmic comprehension, rendered them both appealing and elusive. Even now, much of our knowledge is based on fragments. We have to rely on archaeological remnants, inscriptions, and secondhand reports from those outside the cults.

Mystery cults touched on universal themes, including life and death, the soul’s journey, renewal, and the search for divine favor. Their rituals were intricate and intensive, with purification rites, dramatic reenactments of tales, and symbolic gestures designed to bring participants closer to the divine. Though many of its secrets have been lost to time, what we do know reveals a world where faith was as much about transformation as it was about devotion—a world where the divine was encountered in ways that are as mysterious as they are fascinating.

The Cult of the Cabeiri

Hidden within the complicated web of the ancient Greek religion was the mysterious cult of the Cabeiri. This cult was said to have been dedicated to a group of minor deities whose devotion promised protection, spiritual development, and access to divine mysteries. Though much about the cult has been lost over time, its influence was profound, and its rituals were fundamental to religious life in certain parts of Greece, particularly on the island of Samothrace. The Cabeiri, or Kabeiroi, were frequently associated with chthonic powers linked to the earth and the underworld, as well as maritime protection. Because of this, the cult was particularly held in high regard by sailors and travelers. Their worship, centered on the Sanctuary of the Great Gods, was unique in Greek religion in that it welcomed initiates from all walks of life, from citizens to foreigners, from men to women, and even slaves, which was unusual in a society where most religious practices were closely linked to civic identity and exclusivity.

The cult of the Cabeiri’s beginnings are as obscure as the gods themselves. According to some scholars, their devotion stretches back to the Pelasgians, a pre-Hellenic civilization that occupied areas of the Aegean and predated the Greeks. Others indicate Anatolian influences in their mythology and rites, drawing comparisons to religious practices in the eastern Mediterranean. The Cabeiri were assimilated into the larger Greek religious system during the classical and Hellenistic eras and gained more influence as they became protectors of sailors and sponsors of initiates who sought enlightenment or heavenly protection. Their Samothrace sanctuary eventually developed into a significant religious hub that drew followers from all around the Mediterranean.

Only those who had completed the initiation knew the rites of the cult’s mysterious rituals. It is safe to assume that the initiation process was multi-staged. Scholars suggest it began with purification rituals aimed at cleansing both the body and soul. Initiates might have bathed in sacred waters, possibly in the nearby streams and springs of Samothrace, before entering the sacred precinct. The fact that ceremonies were often held at night gave the rituals a sense of mystery and solemnity. Animal sacrifices were presumably performed as well to honor the gods and establish a connection with the heavens.

The promise of divine protection, especially for those traveling across the violent seas, was said to have been central to the rites of the cult. To protect them on their travels, initiates were given sacred items—perhaps talismans—that had been imbued with the power of the Cabeiri. Evidence gathered from both literary references and archaeological remains points to the use of fire in the cult’s many rituals. This implies a connection to transformation and purification. It is also likely that hymns and dances were performed to invoke the gods and create a communal sense of devotion among the members.

Archaeological finds at the Sanctuary of the Great Gods have revealed invaluable information on the Cabeiri cult. The site featured a certain construction known as the Anaktoron. Historians suggest this structure was once used as a center for initiation ceremonies. Rectangular in shape, the Anaktoron was where the cult’s most sacred and hidden ceremonies were held. During such rituals, initiates might have received symbolic revelations or completed consecration rites. Another major structure, known as the Rotunda of Arsinoe, was nearby. This huge circular building was built during the Hellenistic period and was thought to have been used as a gathering place, possibly for communal worship or banquets.

The votive offerings unearthed at the site shed more light on the cult’s practices and beliefs. One particularly intriguing discovery is a collection of bronze and terracotta artifacts that could have served as ceremonial tools or personal tokens handed to initiates. While the inscriptions carved into stone tablets provide insights into the rites and prayers performed in the sanctuary, their cryptic language maintains the cult’s overall mystery.

The beliefs of the Cabeiri cult revolved around themes of protection, renewal, and the potential for spiritual awakening. Unlike other mystery cults that concentrated on the afterlife, the Cabeiri appear to have prioritized divine intervention and support in the present. Such promises were particularly tempting to sailors, whose jobs and lives were dependent on the whims of the sea. However, the cult’s teachings were not restricted to maritime issues; they could have contained esoteric knowledge about the cosmos, human existence, and the interaction between the mortal and divine realms.

The Lesser Eleusinian Mysteries

The Eleusinian Mysteries were among the most prominent religious rites in ancient Greece, providing initiates with deep spiritual experiences based on the tale of Demeter and Persephone. The Greater Eleusinian Mysteries, celebrated every autumn in Eleusis, claimed to inspire a deeper understanding of life and death, spiritual rebirth, and the possibility of a glorious afterlife. Dramatic reenactments of Persephone’s abduction by Hades and her subsequent reunion with Demeter were central to these rites, representing themes of death, rebirth, and nature’s everlasting cycle.

However, before one could participate in the Greater Mysteries, one had to complete the Lesser Eleusinian Mysteries. The Lesser Mysteries, while smaller in scale and scope, were not a mere formality. These spring rites served as the first stage in a sacred path of purification and spiritual preparation, ensuring that initiates were fully prepared to participate in the autumn festivities.

The Lesser Mysteries took place in Agra, a suburb of Athens near the River Ilissos. These rites were performed every year in the month of Anthesterion (February-March). They served as an entry point for newcomers, introducing them to the Eleusinian tradition while also providing an opportunity to cleanse themselves of bodily and spiritual impurities. At this stage, initiates were led through a series of ceremonies aimed to prepare them for the higher spiritual truths of the Greater Mysteries.

Similar to other mysteries in ancient Greece, the Lesser Mysteries revolved around purifying rites. This particular mystery, however, included swimming in the Ilissos River. This symbolic act of cleansing indicated the removal of sins and the willingness to go on a transforming spiritual journey. As they embarked on their trip, initiates prayed and presented offerings to Demeter and Persephone in hopes of receiving their favor and guidance. The purifications were extremely personal, representing a symbolic rebirth and dedication to the mysteries’ sacred path.

A relief depicting a scene of initiation to the Eleusinian Mysteries.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Plaque_Campana_-_Initiation_aux_myst%C3%A8res_d%27Eleusis_(Louvre,_Cp_4154).jpg

Processions, sacrifices, and symbolic acts associated with the Demeter and Persephone myths were, of course, part of the celebrations. Participants might have carried sacred artifacts, or hiera, while they marched in procession. This symbolized Demeter’s quest for her daughter. These procedures, albeit less elaborate than those of the Greater Mysteries, immersed initiates in the mythological narrative, giving them a sense of connection with the divine figures at the heart of the tradition.

Membership in the Lesser Mysteries was remarkably inclusive for its time. Unlike most Greek religious rituals, which were usually restricted to male citizens of a particular city-state, the Lesser Mysteries was available to anybody. Men, women, foreigners, and possibly even slaves could participate, provided they were willing to undergo purification and sincerely engage with the rituals. While the Lesser Mysteries were required for the Greater Mysteries, they were not just preliminary. For many, particularly those unable to return to Eleusis in the autumn, the Lesser Mysteries provided a meaningful spiritual experience in and of themselves, bringing purification, rejuvenation, and the hope of divine favor.

The Thesmophoria

The Thesmophoria was one of ancient Greece’s most popular and intriguing festivals. It was held entirely by women in honor of Demeter and Persephone. Unlike other mystery cults, which were entrenched in secrecy and exclusivity, the Thesmophoria was a public event, though only married women were permitted to participate. Its rituals, however, were shrouded in mystery due to their extremely symbolic and esoteric character. The festival lasted many days and focused on fertility, agricultural rejuvenation, and the sacred connection between women and the earth.

The festival stemmed from the famous tale of Demeter and her daughter Persephone. According to the story, Hades’s abduction of Persephone led Demeter to fall into a great depression. Her sorrow was so immense that the earth withered. This divine narrative served as the foundation for the Thesmophoria, as the festival was held to honor Demeter as the goddess of agriculture and Persephone as a symbol of the cycle of life and death. The name “Thesmophoria” comes from the Greek word thesmoi, which means “laws” or “customs.” This reflects the ancient Greek belief that Demeter was the one who taught humanity the laws of agriculture and civilized life.

A painting depicting the Thesmophoria procession.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:%27Thesmophoria%27_by_Francis_Davis_Millet,_1894-1897.jpg

The festival was celebrated in multiple Greek city-states. The exact details differed by region. Typically, the festival lasted for three days, with each having its own set of rites and significance. The first day, referred to as Anodos (“ascent”), commemorated the women’s trip to a sacred site, typically a hill or sanctuary, where the festival was held. The journey involved carrying sacred objects and preparing the ground for the ceremonies to follow. The second day, Nesteia (“fasting”), was a day of sadness and introspection. Women fasted from meals and dressed modestly, symbolizing Demeter’s sadness while searching for Persephone.

During this phase, most mysterious rites were performed. One particular ritual involved the retrieval of rotting pig carcasses that had been buried months earlier in sacred pits. These carcasses were placed on an altar and mixed with seeds. This was done to ensure a good harvest.

The final day, known as Kalligeneia (“beautiful birth”), was a celebration of fertility and rejuvenation. Here, an obvious mood change could be sensed. Solemnity turned to joy as women performed rituals to invoke Demeter’s blessing on the land and their own families. Grains, animal-shaped cakes, and other agricultural products were offered to the goddess. The festival then concluded with feasting and dancing.

The Orphic Mysteries

The Orphic Mysteries was yet another one of ancient Greece’s mystifying traditions. This particular Hellenistic mystery cult revolved around the legendary figure named Orpheus. Known in mythology as a poet, musician, and prophet, Orpheus was believed to have possessed the ability to charm every living thing in the world—mighty gods included—with his music. His story, however, was rather tragic. When his beloved wife, Eurydice, died from a snake bite, Orpheus set out on a journey into the underworld to retrieve her. Using his musical talent, Orpheus successfully charmed the underworld beings, including the ferryman Charon and the dog Cerberus. He was able to return to the land of the living with his wife in tow, yet upon failing to abide by Hades’s condition, Orpheus lost his wife forever.

Orpheus charming various beasts with his music.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Regius_-_Orpheus_Beasts.jpg

Unlike other Greek mysteries, which focused on specific deities or cults, the Orphic Mysteries were more philosophical and personal. The religion focused more on the soul’s journey and its relationship to the divine. Purity was an absolute priority, along with ascetic practices and a thorough comprehension of the universe’s divine order. Orphism was founded on a distinct cosmogony that suggested the cosmos had been created by Chronos (Time) and the cosmic egg, a concept that differed from the more anthropomorphic stories of the Olympian gods. The figure of Dionysus Zagreus, Zeus’s son who was torn apart by the Titans and then regenerated, was central to this religious system. This tale symbolized the cyclical nature of life, death, and rebirth.

Orphic rituals and practices were designed as a guide for initiates to achieve spiritual purity and the liberation of the soul from the cycle of rebirth. Initiates were expected to follow strict ethical and dietary codes. They had to indulge in vegetarianism since they believed eating meat perpetuated the cycle of violence and impurity. More often than not, rituals included purification ceremonies, chants, and prayers, as well as the study of Orphic hymns and sacred books, which were claimed to hold concealed knowledge about the universe and the afterlife.

Of course, the exact rituals, ceremonies, and practices were only revealed to members, but membership in the Orphic Mysteries was open to anyone, especially those willing to embrace its ascetic lifestyle and philosophical teachings. In contrast to other mystery religions that emphasized communal ceremonies, Orphism typically focused on personal devotion and inner transformation.

Orphic mosaics excavated from late Roman villas.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:DSC00355_-_Orfeo_(epoca_romana)_-_Foto_G._Dall%27Orto.jpg

Those who devoted themselves closely to the mystery were said to have been promised a great reward: freedom from the never-ending cycle of reincarnation and the eventual return to the divine. This belief was immortalized in small inscribed sheets of gold known as the Orphic gold tablets. Uncovered in various burial sites across the Greek world, these tablets were thought to be guides for the deceased, offering instructions on how to navigate the afterlife and achieve eternal bliss.

The Mysteries of the Great Gods

Sometimes referred to as the Samothracian Mysteries, this Hellenistic cult was considered among the most renowned religious rites in Greece, second only to the Eleusinian Mysteries. These rites, which took place on the island of Samothrace in the northern Aegean Sea, centered on a group of obscure deities known as the Great Gods. Unlike other mystery cults associated with individual Greek city-states, the Samothracian Mysteries welcomed all. Men, women, slaves, and foreigners were permitted to take part, making the cult unusually inclusive for their time.

Scholars cannot precisely pinpoint the exact origin of the Samothracian Mysteries. However, many suggest that the cult preceded the Greek colonization of the island. By the classical period, the cult was believed to have been fully integrated into Greek religious life. Its shrine soon became a popular pilgrimage destination, attracting people from beyond the Aegean. Although the Great Gods themselves were never fully recognized in Greek mythology, they were often associated with the underworld and their protective abilities. Even their identities and roles were intentionally concealed, as they were only known by the members of the cult.

First-time participants were known as mystai. They would typically begin their journey with purification rites that likely included bathing in the sacred streams or springs around the sanctuary. After preparing themselves for the divine experience, the mystai would then participate in processions. Since the processions were often held at night, torches would be lit along the way, further creating a sense of mystery and reverence. Hymns were performed, and prayers were recited to invoke the presence of the Great Gods. These rituals were accompanied by the rhythmic sounds of drums, which were beaten to heighten the participants’ emotional and spiritual state.

Similar to the cult of the Cabeiri, sacred ceremonies were usually held in the Anaktoron. Here, initiates were said to have participated in rites that reenacted the stories of the Great Gods. While the specifics of these rites are obscure, ancient records indicate that they included symbolic acts of protection and rejuvenation. Some scholars also suggest that the rites involved the offering of sacred items known as hiera, which were given to initiates as part of their spiritual enlightenment.

The foundation of the Rotunda of Arsinoe.

No machine-readable author provided. Marsyas assumed (based on copyright claims)., CC BY-SA 3.0 <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Samothraki_Arsinoe_rotunda.jpg

This was not the only holy site for ceremonies and rituals. The sanctuary also featured the Rotunda of Arsinoe. Known to many as the biggest circular building in the ancient Greek world, the site was thought to have been an important gathering spot for initiates. The open-air Theatral Circle was probably utilized for ceremonies that were more public or for meetings.

​The Lernaean Mysteries

The Lernaean Mysteries were associated with the ancient site of Lerna in the Argolid region of Greece. Known by some as one of the most cryptic religious traditions of antiquity, Lerna was famous in mythology as the home of the Lernaean Hydra, a serpent-like beast killed by Heracles during one of his famed twelve labors. However, Lerna was also revered as a sacred sanctuary associated with chthonic deities and the underworld.

On the surface, this mystery religion appeared similar to the others. It was most likely centered on themes of death, renewal, and purification. The site of the cult featured a sacred spring known as the Alcyonian Lake, which many thought to be the very entrance to the underworld. Rituals at Lerna might have included symbolic descents into this dark realm to depict the initiates’ confrontation with death and their eventual purification and rebirth, though no direct accounts of such rites have survived. Bathing or drawing water from the spring was likely important since the water was thought to have purifying and transformational effects.

Since the cult was closely associated with the underworld, rituals at Lerna appeared to have included sacrifices and offerings to the gods who called the realm their domain. Archaeological evidence indicates the presence of altars and pits, which were most likely used for libations and the burial of sacrificial remains. The rites might have been accompanied by hymns and prayers to the chthonic powers, invoking both their favor and protection.

Archaeologists have also discovered remnants of the House of the Tiles, a Mycenaean-era structure, as well as altars and other ritual sites. These discoveries point to the area’s long-standing religious significance, which spanned multiple periods of Greek history.

While the exact details of the Lernaean Mysteries are limited, they appear to be consistent with broader Greek ideas about the cyclical nature of life and death. The emphasis on purification and renewal shows that the mysteries were designed to prepare initiates for both life’s hardships and the voyage into the afterlife. The connection to the myth of the Hydra, with Heracles defeating an overwhelming monster, could have represented the soul’s triumph over death or other spiritual challenges.

​The Mysteries of Andania

The Mysteries of Andania also welcomed everyone, from men to women and even children. Since it was also dedicated to Demeter and Persephone, the cult shared similarities with the Eleusinian Mysteries, though it had its own local characteristics. 

Rituals of this particular cult were commonly held in a small town in Messenia known as Andania, hence its name. Since these rituals were often dictated by local circumstances or specific significant events, they often took place at irregular intervals. Processions were an important feature of the rites, with participants wearing specific clothing and carrying religious artifacts. These processions likely recreated elements of the Demeter-Persephone myth, emphasizing the themes of loss, renewal, and divine favor. Sacrifices were likely common during the rituals, along with communal feasting and perhaps theatrical performances that dramatized the myths.

It is safe to say that the Mysteries of Andania were notable for their inclusiveness and detailed organization. The inscriptions uncovered at Andania provide further insights into the ceremonies’ laws. These inscriptions specify the roles, tasks, and directions for all participants, including priests, priestesses, and ordinary initiates. Such painstaking planning indicates the mysteries’ importance to the local community, as well as their dedication to maintaining the holiness of the rites.

​

Chapter 9 – Bizarre Deaths: Empedocles, Aeschylus, and More

The ancient Greeks were known to celebrate drama and tragedy. So, it should not come as a surprise that the deaths of their most influential figures were turned into stories that have an almost theatrical flair. Empedocles, for one, was known to be an extraordinary thinker by the Greeks, but the story of his death intrigued many. By the time he had risen to prominence, the world was still searching for answers to its deepest mysteries. While others pondered their existence, Empedocles was said to have had the ability to understand the world in ways no mere mortal ever had before.

He held strong to the belief that the entire universe was built from four essential elements: earth, air, fire, and water. He also suggested that these elements did not simply exist out of thin air. They were constantly shaped by two opposing forces—love, which brought them together, and strife, which tore them apart. These were forces that he believed to be the architects of everything we see, from the tiniest speck of dust to the countless stars in the galaxy. What made Empedocles even more unique was that he was not just another philosopher. He was also a poet. He often wove his theories into beautiful poetry. Empedocles had a way with words, so his works often feel almost divine, as if they had been whispered by the gods of Olympus themselves.

His story took a dark turn when Empedocles began to feel like something was missing in his life. He was far from content with being an influential thinker or poet. He believed that he was more than just a weak mortal. Some claimed Empedocles thought of himself as a god or a divine being who knew all the truths of the universe. To those skeptical about his capabilities, Empedocles wished to prove them wrong.

Legend has it that Empedocles, eager to prove that he was more than a mortal, made his way to Mount Etna. He stood at the edge of the fiery volcano, ignoring the smell of sulfur and the gurgling sounds of molten lava churning below. Dressed in his flowing robes, he turned to look at his followers who had come to see his actions from a safe distance.

With confidence, he claimed that he was no longer bound by mortal limits. He told his followers that he would not die from the lava below but simply be transported to the divine, the world where he had come from. He even proclaimed that they would not see his body once he leaped into the volcano, believing that he would merge with the divine forces of the universe. Some said this act was intended as a symbolic return to the elements—earth, air, fire, and water—that he believed made up all existence.

Empedocles leaping into Mount Etna.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Death_of_Empedocles_by_Salvator_Rosa.jpg

Empedocles looked into the lava below, glowing as if it were a portal to another world. Without hesitation, the philosopher jumped into the fiery depths. His followers were stunned, silence hanging heavy in the air. Their minds were reeling from what they had just witnessed. However, as if betraying his claims, the volcano erupted one of Empedocles’s sandals. The sight of his sandal sitting at the edge of the crater answered his followers’ question: Empedocles was, after all, a human bound by mortal limitations.

Aeschylus, the Tragedy Playwright Who Died Tragically

It was just another day for Aeschylus as he strolled under the blazing sun shining over the Sicilian countryside. He gazed at the sky, admiring the beauty of the world. The famed playwright often sought inspiration in nature, but that was not the main reason behind his decision to be outdoors that day. He was also trying to escape his death.

Aeschylus was one of the most celebrated playwrights of ancient Greece. As the “Father of Tragedy,” he was no stranger to dramatic twists. His works, such as The Persians, Seven Against Thebes, and the Oresteia trilogy, were some of his most famous contributions that redefined Greek theater. He was credited with producing over eighty plays, but unfortunately, only seven survived the test of time in their complete form. Interestingly, Aeschylus was also the first dramatist to have ever presented his plays in a trilogy.

Like many other Greeks of his time, Aeschylus was a devout believer in the gods. Even his own life was thought to be touched by the divine. Before turning into a playwright, Aeschylus worked at a vineyard. He claimed Dionysus appeared in his sleep one day, urging him to pursue a career in the art of tragedy. He did so, and over time, Aeschylus earned widespread acclaim.

However, that was not the only time the divine had given him a sign. Legend has it that Aeschylus also heard of a certain prophecy that foretold his demise. He would one day be killed by a falling object. He thought that by staying outdoors, where the sky was the only thing above his head, he could trick fate. However, the sky was home to other beings, such as eagles.

One day, an eagle circled the sky with a tortoise clutched tightly in its talons. It was scanning the ground below, searching for a stone large enough to break a tortoise shell upon impact. Once it found its target, the eagle quickly released its grip, sending the tortoise hurtling toward what the bird thought to be a rock gleaming under the sunlight. Unfortunately for Aeschylus, the eagle had mistaken his bald head for a rock. With a sickening thud, the tortoise shell struck Aeschylus’s skull.

The last moments of Aeschylus.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Death_of_Aeschylus_in_Florentine_Picture_Chronicle.jpg#Licensing

The dramatist, who had dedicated decades of his life to producing Greek tragedies, met a tragedy of his own. The absurdity of his death quickly became a subject of legend. Nevertheless, his works continued to inspire many. The Athenians valued his works so much that they allowed his tragedies to be restaged in competitions. His talent and legacy were also inherited by his sons, Euphorion and Euæon, as well as his nephew named Philocles, who all became playwrights themselves.

Draco of Athens

Draco was born in a time when justice was anything but fair. He hailed from Athens, and back in the 7th century BCE, the Athenians had no consistent law system. Because of this, disputes often escalated into bloody feuds. Perhaps growing up witnessing the Athenians constantly fighting each other, Draco wanted to change the way laws worked in the city.

Draco of Athens.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Draco.webp

It is unclear at what age Draco first stepped into the realm of law. Scholars have suggested that he was probably in his thirties when he finally obtained a standing in Athenian society. From then on, he was entrusted with the responsibility of codifying Athens’ first ever written laws. This was indeed a groundbreaking effort to replace arbitrary decisions with a clear legal structure.

However, Draco’s laws were known to be unbelievably harsh. Even those who were caught stealing petty items, such as a cabbage, could be sentenced to death. When asked why his solution to most offenses was the death sentence, Draco simply responded that he could not think of a higher punishment for the greater offenses. In his eyes, petty crimes already warranted the death penalty because of their harmful nature. There was no more severe consequence he could impose for more serious crimes. His laws were extremely strict and harsh to the point where his name eventually gave us the word “draconian,” which is often used to describe overly harsh measures.

Although his laws are controversial, largely due to their severity, the Greeks saw them as revolutionary. Because of him, the Athenians could finally see order and consistency. Draco’s laws became the foundation for future reforms that would later lead to democracy. Some might have feared his influence, but many others respected him for his dedication to justice.

Like many other great minds of the Greek world, Draco had to be remembered for his contributions. The Athenians decided to hold a grand gathering to honor him. Silence was immediately replaced with a round of applause when the Athenians saw Draco stepping forward to address them. At a single glance, he appeared modest—he wore only a simple cloak—but his presence commanded attention. However, the Athenians’ love for him inadvertently killed him.

Perhaps eager to show their gratitude, the crowd began to throw their hats, cloaks, and other garments on the stage as a gesture of appreciation. As their enthusiasm grew, more and more items rained down until they formed a growing pile around him. Draco stood there, probably trying to calm the audience down. Unfortunately, the deluge of offerings continued, as the Athenians, completely consumed by their enthusiasm, ignored his words. The pile grew so large that Draco eventually collapsed underneath it. By the time the crowd realized what they had done, it was too late. Silence filled the air again. Their celebrated lawgiver had died, having been smothered by their own outpouring gratitude,

Chrysippus, the Stoic Philosopher Who Laughed to Death

Dying of laughter may sound ridiculous, but it is, in fact, a medical possibility, although it is a rare one. In extreme cases, excessive laughter can trigger a range of physiological responses. Asphyxiation might occur if the body fails to take in enough oxygen. Those who already have pre-existing heart conditions might become victims of cardiac arrest. This phenomenon is known today as fatal hilarity and had once befallen a certain Stoic philosopher of the 3rd century BCE named Chrysippus.

Chrysippus of Soli.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Chrysippos_BM_1846.jpg

According to ancient tradition, Chrysippus once stumbled upon a donkey eating a fig. He found the scene to be so amusing that he shouted, “Now, can someone give the donkey a drink of wine to wash it down!” His laughter escalated uncontrollably. He eventually collapsed to the ground, perhaps due to asphyxiation caused by his non-stop laughter, and died.

This was not the only account of his death. The ancient biographer of philosophers, Diogenes Laërtius, offered an alternative account where he claimed Chrysippus died during the 143rd Olympiad Games. He suggested that instead of excessive laughter, the philosopher met his fate as a result of drinking undiluted wine at a feast. However, without forensic evidence, we will never truly uncover the reason behind his death. Whether it was fatal hilarity or alcohol poisoning, Chrysippus succeeded in immortalizing his name. The philosopher was mostly known for his contributions in logic, the theory of knowledge, ethics, and physics rather than his end.

Heraclitus, the Greek Philosopher Who Spoke in Riddles

Heraclitus of Ephesus had a rather dim view of humanity to the point where he could often be found crying over it. Because of this, the pre-Socratic thinker was known by the Greeks as the “Weeping Philosopher.” This was not his only epithet. Heraclitus was also said to have spoken in a cryptic manner, so many referred to him as the “Obscure,” “the Riddler,” and sometimes “the Dark One.” He had some of the best insights and ideas, yet they were all typically expressed in dense aphorisms that challenged even the brightest minds of his time. Heraclitus was also the philosopher whose famous quote was “You cannot step into the same river twice.”

Heraclitus, the Weeping Philosopher.

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Heraclitus preferred a reclusive life. Perhaps tied to his view of humanity, he shunned public life and criticized common people and his fellow philosophers, claiming they failed to grasp deeper truths. His ideas influenced later thinkers, including Plato and the Stoics, but the episode where he met his demise is remembered by many.

Heraclitus eventually developed dropsy—today known as edema—as he neared the end of his days. This particular medical condition is characterized by severe swelling due to fluid retention. Possibly caused by either heart or kidney failure, it was undoubtedly a condition that was beyond the medical capabilities of his time. When Heraclitus noticed his condition was getting worse, he made haste to see the doctors. True to his style, the philosopher spoke metaphorically; he asked them whether they could make a drought after a storm. He probably was asking if the doctors could remove the excess fluid from his body. However, none of the doctors could understand him, which left Heraclitus frustrated.

He left the doctors and chose to take matters into his own hands. Believing that warmth was the answer, he devised a rather unconventional remedy. The philosopher covered himself with cow manure. He thought that with the manure’s heat and drying properties, he could draw out the moisture that had been causing his medical condition. Unfortunately, this treatment failed, and the philosopher died while still being covered in a mixture of his own invention.

Other ancient records recalled Heraclitus lying still in the manure under the sun. However, the dung dried around him, transforming into a body cast. Unable to move, he could only watch as a pack of dogs came along to eat him.

Philitas of Cos, the Grammarian Who Starved to Death

Many might agree that Philitas of Cos’s life revolved around words, but so did his death. Born sometime in the mid-4th century BCE, Philitas built his career as both a poet and a scholar. He was extremely obsessed with language, something that set him apart from other great minds of the Hellenistic world. His appointment as a tutor to the future Egyptian pharaoh, Ptolemy II Philadelphus, further catapulted him into literary stardom to the point where his influence was felt in the works of poets like Callimachus and Propertius.

A bronze statue of Philitas of Cos.

Ishkabibble at the English Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0 <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Antikythera_philosopher.JPG

However, some found his expertise in language and obsession with the precise usage of words irritating. He would zealously correct errors in speech, no matter who the speaker was. Once he heard the wrong choice of words being used, Philitas never hesitated to argue and unravel why such a word was wrongly used—a behavior that even his admirers found exhausting. Imagine a man whom you do not know personally leaping into an exhaustive analysis upon overhearing a slip of the tongue and not stopping until the mistake was acknowledged.

His death revolved around his obsession with words and grammar. Ancient sources state that Philitas became so consumed by his scholarly pursuits that it slipped his mind to care for his own needs. He was too deep in his research, investigating a particularly erroneous use of words—Philitas was said to have been preparing an essay to expose the offending mistake—that the scholar forgot to eat. He accidentally starved himself to death, becoming the ultimate victim of his own insatiable pursuit of linguistic perfection.

Milo of Croton, the Wrestler Who Got Trapped in a Tree

When thinking of the strongest men in ancient Greece, many may immediately think of Heracles, the mythical hero whose strength allowed him to perform the famed twelve labors for King Eurystheus of Mycenae. A few may think of Milo of Croton. Like Heracles, Milo was not only popular for his might but also for his larger-than-life feats. He was a wrestler who immortalized his name in history by winning six Olympic titles and seven Pythian championships. He was also a skilled military leader. Milo once led the army of Croton (a Greek colony in southern Italy) to victory against their rivals from Sybaris.

The ancient Greeks claimed Milo possessed an almost superhuman strength. One legend told of his extreme training regimen that bordered on the mythical. He was said to have lifted an ox daily. He began lifting the animal when it was only a mere newborn and continued to do this each day until the ox grew into a full-sized beast. When the ox reached maturity, Milo was said to have been able to carry it with ease, showcasing his otherworldly strength and endurance.

The death of Milo of Croton.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Suv%C3%A9e,_Joseph-Benoit_-_Milo_of_Croton.jpg

Yet, even Heracles could not escape death, let alone the mortal Milo. While the divine hero died because of a poison, Milo’s demise ended because of the brutality of animals. According to traditional sources, Milo was walking alone through a forest. He came across a partially split tree with its trunk held open by wedges. Despite there being no one to watch him, the wrestler saw this as an opportunity to test his strength. With a deep breath, he inserted his rough hands into the gap and, with all his might, tried to tear the trunk apart. At first, it seemed as if he would pass his own test of strength. Unfortunately, the wedges soon fell out. The tree snapped shut, trapping one of his hands.

The mighty wrestler was now a captive of the tree and left vulnerable to Mother Nature. Wolves eventually arrived and devoured him.

Arrichion, an Athlete Announced Champion Despite Being Dead

The pankratiast was a type of warrior-athlete in ancient Greece. They typically fought using a blend of wrestling and boxing techniques to topple their opponents. The sport known as pankration was usually brutal; there was little room for mercy. The athletes were permitted to use anything to win the match, save for biting and gouging an opponent’s eyes. While strength, skill, and endurance were all must-haves, the athletes also needed strategy and a little bit of trickery. Among the many celebrated pankratiasts in ancient Greece was Arrichion of Phigalia.

Ancient Greek pankratiasts fighting.

Staatliche Antikensammlungen, CC BY-SA 3.0 <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Pankratiasten_in_fight_copy_of_greek_statue_3_century_bC.jpg

Arrichion knew he had already cemented his reputation when he won two Olympic titles. So, when the fifty-fourth Olympiad was held in 564 BCE, he was confident that he could take on any opponent thrown at him. Proud of his strength and tenacity, he entered the arena, and as he expected, the crowd erupted with cheers the moment they laid eyes on him. The spectators knew Arrichion was no ordinary competitor. They expected the match to be a swift and easy win for the athlete.

However, much to their surprise, Arrichion soon found himself in a dire situation. He had been a tad too confident. His opponent turned out to be a determined challenger with powerful legs. The opponent wrapped around Arrichion’s midsection and arms, trapping the proud athlete in a chokehold. Finding it difficult to breathe, the defending champion appeared as if he were only moments away from defeat. The crowd fell silent as they saw their hero slowly lose consciousness.

But Arrichion was always a step ahead. His unconsciousness was only an act so that his opponent would lower his guard. When his grip loosened, Arrichion made his move. Using every ounce of his remaining strength, the athlete made a sharp motion, twisting and snapping his opponent’s ankle. The pain was agonizing, leading his opponent to immediately tap out and signal his defeat. The crowd celebrated with cheers and applause, but little did they know that Arrichion was already dead.

Many were puzzled, but it was later revealed that in his attempt to throw off his opponent immediately after the tap out, the intense pressure from the chokehold had inadvertently snapped Arrichion’s neck. Regardless of his death, Olympic tradition held that the opponent’s surrender meant victory. So, Arrichion was once again crowned champion, but this time around, only his corpse lay witness to it.

Chapter 10 – The Voyage of Pytheas

The Greeks had a general understanding of the known world, but they were only familiar with regions surrounding the Mediterranean and certain parts of the Near East. While they had heard stories of distant lands, which were typically shared by travelers and merchants, some tended to dismiss the details and descriptions, looking at them as nothing more than just fables and tales. Goods like amber, tin, and silk were commonly traded in Greek markets, but few Greeks were curious about the origins of these items. This was largely due to the Greeks often relying on intermediaries, such as the Phoenicians and the Egyptians, to bring the wonders of faraway places to them.

However, Pytheas had always been curious about the world beyond the Mediterranean. His hunger for knowledge and his desire to explore the world were not solely driven by the chance to expand trade or discover new markets. Pytheas had heard stories of a phenomenon that only occurred in the lands far to the north. In these unknown parts of the world—at least unknown to the ancient Greeks—the sun never set. While today, this phenomenon is considered normal (we now refer to it as the midnight sun), to the ancient Greeks, who lived in a temperate zone with predictable day and night cycles, the thought of not seeing the sun set below the horizon for days was bizarre. Many questions probably lingered in Pytheas’s mind. Was it truly possible for such a land to thrive? If so, how were the lives of the people there when nighttime never came?

A statue of Pytheas at Palais de la Bourse in Marseille.

Rvalette, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Pyth%C3%A9as.jpg

It is safe to assume that Pytheas was not a man who would be content just by listening to secondhand stories and theories. The only way for him to uncover the truth about these lands was to set out on an adventure and experience the wonders of the unknown world himself. Pytheas recorded his extraordinary voyage in his book titled Ta peri tou Okeanou (Things About the Ocean), but unfortunately for us, the book has been lost to the sands of time. Some said it was once kept in the famous Library of Alexandria, and when the structure was destroyed, so was the book. Only a few fragments of his stories and descriptions of the journey were saved. They were preserved by ancient writers such as Timaeus, Pliny the Elder, Diodorus Siculus, Strabo, and Polybius. Although these secondhand accounts give us a glimpse into Pytheas’s voyage, it is important to note that the writings are also full of biases and interpretations of the writers.

According to these secondhand accounts, Pytheas was thought to be a Greek merchant hailing from Massalia (now modern-day Marseille). The city was situated along the southern coast of Gaul, and its strategic location allowed it to thrive as a major hub in the Mediterranean. So, it makes sense for historians to suggest that Pytheas might have grown up surrounded by sailors and traders before becoming a merchant himself.

Even the exact details of his ship remain a mystery. However, since Pytheas could have been a merchant, scholars suggest that he likely sailed in a type of Greek cargo vessel known as the holkas. Unlike the oar-driven triremes often used in naval battles, the round-hulled holkai were popular for their sturdy build. With the ship’s flat bottom, Pytheas was able to navigate shallow waters and haul large quantities of goods. The holkas was mainly propelled by sails. Despite not being particularly fast, this type of ship was reliable and a fitting choice for explorers like Pytheas who prioritized endurance and capacity rather than speed.

Pytheas likely began his voyage in Massilia. He would have then set sail westward, passing through the Pillars of Hercules (the modern-day Strait of Gibraltar) and into the Atlantic Ocean. This was where his voyage must have faced its first challenges. The Atlantic was an uncharted and treacherous frontier even for the most experienced Greek navigators. Nevertheless, Pytheas succeeded in overcoming all of the tests that the ocean had in store for him. He sailed northward along the coasts of Spain and France, observing the lands, and eventually made landfall in Brittany. Records claimed that Pytheas crossed the English Channel, reaching a place he referred to as “Belerion,” which historians suspect to be Cornwall.

Ancient writers like Pliny the Elder and Timaeus also preserved Pytheas’s record of an island he stumbled upon. Referred to as “Mictis,” the island was said to be accessible by sailing inland from Britain for six days. This was where Pytheas observed the inhabitants mining tin. He also recorded his observation of the Britons traveling to the island using only lightweight wicker boats covered with animal hides. Tin was a crucial material for producing bronze, and the tin mined by the inhabitants was usually traded to Gaul. From there, it was transported to the Mediterranean markets. This was undoubtedly an important discovery for Pytheas, as it provided insights into the supply chain of one of antiquity’s most valuable resources. While the exact location of Mictis remains unknown, some scholars speculate it could have been St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall, the Mount Batten peninsula in Devon, or even the Isle of Wight.

As a curious explorer, Pytheas’s observations were not only limited to geography and trade. He was also said to have taken a keen interest in the people he encountered. He observed their way of life, culture, and customs. In one of his writings preserved by Diodorus Siculus, Pytheas noted that Britain was densely populated, which he thought was surprising given the region’s cold climate. Its inhabitants lived in humble houses made of reed and timber, and the people were organized into tribal societies. Pytheas also wrote that they were governed by kings and aristocrats, which was pretty similar to other ancient societies. Agriculture was the Britons’ main source of sustenance. Pytheas even described their unique method of harvesting grain. According to his observations, the people did not cut entire stalks; instead, they harvested only the heads of the grain. These heads were stored in roofed buildings until they ripened. Every day, the people would grind the ripened heads and use them as part of their diet.

Perhaps satisfied with his observations of Cornwall and southwestern Britain, Pytheas finally made the decision to continue his adventure. He sailed northward along the coast of Wales, where he explored rugged landscapes and possibly witnessed the lives of the remote tribes of the region. This was not his last stop; scholars suggest that he sailed farther north. Pytheas landed on the Isle of Man before continuing his exploration along the rugged western coast of Scotland. From here, he made his way between the Outer and Inner Hebrides. It is possible that the explorer made several landfalls in this area, where he studied the unfamiliar terrain and the people who inhabited it. The geographer Strabo noted that Pytheas explored as much of Britain as was accessible by foot, though Strabo also claimed that Pytheas might have exaggerated his adventures.

Pytheas did not venture into these unknown regions empty-handed. One of the tools he brought along on his journey was a gnomon, a vertical rod or stick used to measure the shadow cast by the sun. This ingenious device served as a precursor to modern navigational tools like sextants (used to measure the angular distance between two visible objects) and GPS. Many may agree that the gnomon was a relatively simple navigational tool, but it was highly effective at the time. Typically, a sailor would place the rod upright on a flat surface and record the shadow it cast when the sun finally reached its highest point in the sky. By calculating the length and angle of the shadow at noon, one could determine one’s current latitude. Although the tool is considered crude by today’s standards, back then, it was a groundbreaking innovation that allowed many explorers to venture farther into unknown regions.

A sundial with a gnomon (the triangular blade) on it.

Photo taken by Alexandre Mirgorodski for http://www.taganrogcity.com Courtesy of Taganrog Local Government. © TaganrogCity.Com, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sundial_Taganrog.jpg

According to Pliny the Elder, Pytheas also explored another group of islands north of Britain that he referred to as the “Orcades.” Scholars have suggested that the Orcades might be the Orkney Islands, yet this is nothing more than speculation. Pliny’s count of the Orcades does not align with the actual number of islands in the Orkney archipelago. What we can be sure of, though, is that Pytheas moved on from Britain after exploring the Orcades. This time around, he sailed into the frigid waters of the North Sea.

This daunting journey took him six days before he finally reached a landmass he called Thule. This was where Pytheas finally got to answer his own question: was there really a part of the world where the sun refused to sink beyond the horizon? According to the ancient writers, Pytheas described the phenomenon in great detail. Although we will never uncover his exact words and description, it is safe to assume that Pytheas might have been in awe when he experienced continuous daylight during the summer months. After all, this concept where night ceased to exist—at least for several days or weeks—was almost mythical to the Greeks, who were well accustomed to the predictable cycles of day and night in the Mediterranean.

Pytheas documented what lay north of Thule. After sailing another day, the explorer was said to have come across what he called the “Congealed Sea.” Scholars thought this was a term he used to refer to the icy waters of the Arctic Ocean. Pytheas wrote about the region being full of thick fog and floating ice floes, which were probably the main obstacles that stopped him from sailing further. Regardless, the extremely cold temperature, heavy mist, and dozens of ice floes were likely an alien sight for Pytheas and his crew, who all came from the temperate Mediterranean.

Perhaps one of the most intriguing parts of Pytheas’s lost writings about his northern travels was something he referred to as “sea-lung.” This term has long puzzled scholars and historians. Some believe that Pytheas was simply trying to describe something he had never seen before, and there was no existing word for it in Greek. What he saw was probably pancake ice, which is a type of sea ice that forms in circular patterns and floats on the water’s surface.

Pancake ice.

Hans Kylberg from Stockholm Bagarmossen, Sweden, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Islossning_(119329313).jpg

But why did he call it “sea-lung?” While we can never be entirely sure, some historians provided an explanation. Pytheas might have borrowed the term from jellyfish. According to Aristotle in his work Parts of Animals, jellyfish were known in Greek as pleumōn thalattios, or “sea lung.” So, Pytheas, who had no word to refer to the pancake ice, might have thought of a jellyfish. These sea creatures are round and float near the surface of the water, just like pancake ice. Whether or not this is true, Pytheas’s description of his northern travels really captured the bizarre and dynamic nature of the Arctic waters. It was indeed a place where the boundary between sea and land seemed to blur.

Of course, just like the Orcades, the exact location of Thule has been a topic of debate for many years. While some suggested Pytheas landed in Iceland, there are others who argued it was Norway or the Faroe Islands. The Canadian explorer Vilhjalmur Stefansson—best known for his Arctic expeditions—sided with the idea that Pytheas went to Iceland. Stefansson, in his book Ultima Thule, wrote that Pytheas’s descriptions of Thule aligned with both Icelandic geography and astronomical details, especially the phenomenon of the midnight sun near the Arctic Circle. However, without definitive evidence, this is nothing more than just a theory. The exact identity of Thule and whether it was true that Pytheas succeeded in sailing as far as Iceland remains a debate.

Nevertheless, according to what remains of his records, the Congealed Sea and its “sea-lung” marked the northernmost point of Pytheas’s journey. Since the environment was completely inhospitable, Pytheas began his return voyage home. Scholars suggest that he likely sailed down the eastern coast of Britain. He then rounded the Kentish peninsula, which he wrote down as “Kantion.” This referred to the region of Kent, located at the southeastern tip of England, facing toward continental Europe (modern-day France).

This meant Pytheas had effectively achieved a circumnavigation of the island of Britain. Without modern navigational tools and the unpredictability of the fierce Atlantic water, this was a giant feat for his time. However, instead of turning westward and heading toward the Mediterranean, Pytheas made the decision to go on one last detour into uncharted territories.

He turned eastward and sailed along the northern coastline of Europe. Pliny the Elder recounted Pytheas’s journey in his writing, narrating that the Greek explorer encountered various groups of people along the way. The Germanic tribe Gutones was one of them. They lived near the shores of an estuary (the tidal mouth of a large river) of the ocean he called “Mentonomon.” This was possibly the mouth of the Elbe or another major river whose stream meets the North Sea. Always a keen observer, Pytheas likely recorded the people’s customs, descriptions of their dwellings, and trade practices, all of which would have been invaluable to the Greeks who were unfamiliar with the northern Germanic tribes.

Pytheas also reached an island known for its amber. Some historians have proposed that the island he landed on was none other than Heligoland, a small yet historically significant archipelago off the coast of modern-day Germany. The Greeks considered amber to be extremely precious. Apart from its beauty, amber was revered for its mystical properties. The Greeks often associated it with sunlight and divine power. Referring to it as “electron,” it was best known for its ability to attract lightweight objects when rubbed—a scientific phenomenon we now know as static electricity. Therefore, Pytheas’s discovery of a land abundant with amber might have been a revelation.

Pytheas continued his journey, venturing into the Baltic Sea. Scholars suggested that he might have gone as far east as the Vistula River in present-day Poland. This theory is further supported by ancient accounts that recalled Pytheas’s own descriptions of the amber trade and peoples living in the Baltic region. Moreover, given its proximity to rich amber deposits, it would have been a logical destination for someone keen on understanding the trade networks that brought this precious material to Mediterranean markets.

This region offered Pytheas a change of scenery. If he had indeed reached the Baltic, Pytheas might have encountered an environment that was vastly different from the rugged coasts of Britain or the biting cold of the north. The Baltic Sea was calmer compared to the harsh waters of the Atlantic and Arctic. The Baltic was also hugged by dense forests along its shores, providing Pytheas with rather green scenery.

It was only after he was done with exploring the Baltic that Pytheas continued the long journey back to the Mediterranean. It is unclear whether he decided to retrace his route along the northern European coast or took a different route southward. However, we can be sure that his return voyage was challenging.

Pytheas safely arrived at Massalia. With his memories fresh in his mind, the explorer dedicated himself to documenting the extraordinary voyage. Since his book Things About the Ocean was cited by Dicaearchus, a student of Aristotle, who lived between 350 BCE and 285 BCE, historians believe that Pytheas wrote his accounts sometime around 320 BCE, only a few years after he finished his expedition. This early acknowledgement of his work suggests that Pytheas’s accounts were not only remarkable for their content but were also a significant contribution to the geographic and scientific understanding of the ancient world.

Things About the Ocean quickly gained traction and was widely circulated throughout Greece. It served as one of the primary sources of knowledge, especially about Britain and the mysterious lands far north, for over two centuries. His detailed descriptions of Britain, its inhabitants and trade, and stories of Thule and the Arctic were studied and dissected by a range of scholars and historians. It was not until the emergence of accounts by Tacitus and Julius Caesar that Pytheas’s writings began to be overshadowed.

Unsurprisingly, despite his detailed writings, not everyone took his work in a favorable way. Strabo and Polybius, for example, were critical of Pytheas’s work. As two of the most prominent ancient geographers, they often dismissed Pytheas’s descriptions, claiming them to be exaggerated or fabricated. Strabo himself claimed Pytheas to be unreliable. He particularly mocked the explorer’s claims about the midnight sun and the frozen sea, dismissing the descriptions as improbable and fantastical. Polybius also viewed Pytheas’s accounts of the distant north with skepticism. Their criticisms, however, were less about Pytheas’s methods and more about the incredible nature of his claims; to them, Pytheas’s descriptions seemed to challenge the established understanding of the world at the time. The idea of a vast ocean filled with frozen sheets of ice and a land where the sun never set was so bizarre to the Greeks that many contemporaries found it easier to doubt his writings.

However, today, Pytheas’s voyage has been acknowledged as one of the most incredible feats of the ancient world. His journey is often underappreciated in the history of exploration, often overshadowed by famous voyages of later explorers like Marco Polo and Christopher Columbus, but Pytheas’s journey was no less daring. His curiosity led him to venture into uncharted territories with only his knowledge and the help of a primitive gnomon. Not only did he return to his homeland in one piece, but Pytheas also worked to compile his accounts, which ultimately expanded the geographic boundaries of his time.

Conclusion

Ancient Greece is a place that feels both familiar and endlessly fascinating. It was a world full of epic battles, intricate marble temples, and powerful gods who mirrored the mortals they ruled over with their flaws and passions. But beyond the famed story of the Trojan War or even the wisdom of the Olympian gods, one will discover a range of stories that reveal the Greeks as more than just legendary figures. They were also humans who were curious, contradictory, and delightfully peculiar.

Throughout this journey, we have encountered the unexpected. We have met Neaira, a woman whose trial provided us with a glimpse into the lives of those navigating a world where freedom was tenuous and societal expectations rigid. We followed Pytheas on his voyage to the frozen edges of the known world. There were narratives of ancient Greece’s greatest minds and warriors who left us with ideas that shaped the world. We also learned about their odd deaths. Who would have thought that history could include a cryptic philosopher experimenting with manure to ease his sickness or a celebrated war general falling to his demise upon being hit by a roof tile?

Everyone knew the Greeks had a love for drama, but not everyone was aware that it was not confined only to their theaters. The Greeks wove drama through every aspect of their lives, from politics to war. Even their greatest city-states were not an exception. Athens, for one, had its history written with a dramatic flair. It reached incredible heights with its democracy, art, and naval power, yet the city was not invincible. The city-state was eventually brought to its knees by an invisible enemy. The plague that wreaked havoc throughout Athens reshaped its destiny, giving the world a clear reminder of the fragility of human ambition.

What makes ancient Greece so captivating is not only its awe-inspiring achievements but also its many contradictions. True, this was the very civilization that built and championed democratic systems, yet it also marginalized much of its population. Ancient Greece was a melting pot of rational thought and groundbreaking philosophy, but the people were also deeply superstitious at the same time, often turning to the gods for even the smallest omens. For every gleaming temple or visionary thinker, there was also a tale of human error, rivalry, or unexpected tragedy.

It is clear that ancient Greece left us far more than myths and ruins. It provided us with stories and episodes that ask questions about life, ambition, and what it means to be human. These tales remind us that history is not just about polished monuments but also the rough edges that make it real, surprising, and relatable.

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