Chapter Six: Xerxes and the Hellenic Wars: Empire, Resistance, and Betrayal


 


Introduction

Xerxes I (reigned 486–465 BC), the "King of Kings" of the Achaemenid Empire, inherited a vast and sophisticated imperial system from his father, Darius the Great. While Western historiography—particularly that shaped by Greek chroniclers such as Herodotus—has frequently depicted him as a hubristic and even tyrannical figure, a more nuanced understanding reveals a monarch deeply committed to the Achaemenid imperial project. Far from being a mere military aggressor, Xerxes was a strategic ruler and cultural patron who oversaw the consolidation and expansion of the empire’s material and symbolic foundations.

Xerxes devoted immense resources to architectural and artistic endeavors, most notably at Persepolis. His reign saw the completion or expansion of monumental structures such as the Gate of All Nations, the Apadana Palace, and the Hall of a Hundred Columns. These projects were more than architectural feats—they were deliberate manifestations of imperial ideology. The stylistic synthesis visible in these monuments, blending Median, Babylonian, Egyptian, Ionian, and Elamite artistic elements, served both as a celebration of Achaemenid universality and as a visible assertion of the king’s authority over a diverse empire.

Administratively, Xerxes preserved the satrapal system refined by his predecessors, continuing to rely on a vast network of royal roads and couriers to facilitate communication, taxation, and governance across the empire's immense expanse. Early in his reign, he faced uprisings in Egypt and Babylon—both of which he suppressed decisively. These actions reinforced Persian dominance and introduced firmer central oversight in these strategic regions. Despite these crackdowns, Xerxes—reportedly influenced by his mother Atossa, daughter of Cyrus the Great and a reputed adherent of Mithraic teachings—upheld a policy of pragmatic tolerance: so long as subject peoples paid tribute and refrained from rebellion, their local customs and religious practices were largely respected.

The infamous campaign against Greece, which culminated in the battles of ThermopylaeSalamis, and Plataea, has often been portrayed in classical sources as an arrogant overreach. However, from a Persian perspective, it was a calculated response to Athenian interference in Asia Minor, particularly their support for the Ionian Revolt and their role in the sack of Sardis. Far from being a mere vengeance expedition, Xerxes' campaign was an attempt to stabilize the empire’s western frontiers and assert control over the fractious Greek world. While ultimately unsuccessful in subduing the Greek mainland, the campaign’s legacy—especially the alliances forged with Thebes, Thessaly, and other Greek polities—reveals the complexity of inter-Hellenic politics and Persia’s continued relevance in Greek affairs long after Xerxes' withdrawal.

It is important to challenge the Hellenic patriotic narrative, popularized from Herodotus to Aristotle, that cast Persia as a despotic foreign yoke over the noble city-states of Hellas. In truth, many Greek polities, including ThebesPharsalus, and Larissa, willingly aligned with Persia. Even Athens, for all its posturing as the defender of Hellenic liberty, later demonstrated a willingness to engage with Persia when geopolitical expediency dictated—as seen during their naval cooperation in the late fifth century. The notion that Xerxes naïvely believed he could buy off Greek politicians may reflect the propaganda of pro-Spartan exiles such as Demaratus, but it was not unfounded. The Persian strategy, though ultimately curtailed by the exigencies of war and distance, had significant long-term impact and influence over the Greek world.

After the withdrawal of Xerxes from Greece—misrepresented by Greek chroniclers as a result of defeat—the Greek city-states swiftly resumed their internal rivalries and hostilities. Persian forces, under Mardonius, remained stationed in Thrace and Macedonia, and prepared for renewed incursions. Far from a simple retreat, this repositioning reflects a broader Persian strategy of regional destabilization and selective engagement, leveraging inter-Greek divisions in the empire’s favor.


The Succession Crisis and Xerxes' Accession

Upon the death of Darius I in 486 BC, Xerxes—also rendered Khshayarsha in Old Persian—ascended to the throne after a contested succession. According to Herodotus, Achaemenid law required that a king designate his successor before embarking on a military campaign. Darius, preparing to suppress a rebellion in Egypt, was thus compelled to choose between his sons: Artobarzanes (also spelled Artobazanes), his eldest by his first wife Artobame, and Xerxes, his eldest son by Atossa, daughter of Cyrus the Great.

Artobarzanes claimed primacy as the eldest son in accordance with traditional inheritance customs. However, Xerxes, supported by his mother Atossa, advanced a compelling counterargument rooted in dynastic legitimacy. As the grandson of Cyrus—the founder and liberator of the Persian Empire—Xerxes' claim was imbued with symbolic potency. Atossa and her allies likely emphasized that continuity with the lineage of Cyrus would strengthen the legitimacy of Darius’s line and ensure dynastic cohesion.

Herodotus relates that Demaratus, the exiled former king of Sparta who had sought refuge at the Achaemenid court in Susa, played a pivotal role in Xerxes' succession. According to the account, Demaratus advised Xerxes to emphasize that he had been born during Darius's reign, while Artobarzanes had been born before Darius ascended the throne—thus framing Xerxes as the legitimate heir born into royalty. This nuanced argument, combining dynastic propaganda with Persian legal conventions, ultimately secured Xerxes' position as heir apparent.

Although the exact mechanics of the decision remain obscure and filtered through Greek narrative lenses, it is evident that Xerxes' rise was no mere accident of birth but a carefully negotiated outcome shaped by powerful court alliances, religious symbolism, and the evolving political theology of the Achaemenid court.


Diplomacy, Retribution, and the Spartan Embassies

In the early years of Xerxes’ reign, a remarkable episode recounted by Herodotus illustrates the complex and often theatrical nature of Helleno-Persian diplomacy. Following Sparta’s execution of Darius I’s envoys—a blatant violation of the norms of ancient interstate diplomacy—the Spartans, perhaps remorseful or fearful of divine retribution, reportedly sought atonement. According to Herodotus, two elderly Spartan nobles, Sperthias, son of Aneristos, and Bulis, son of Nicolaus, volunteered to surrender themselves to the Persian court as a form of sacrificial expiation.

On their journey to Susa, the Spartan envoys encountered Hydarnes (Old Persian: Vidarna), commander of the Persian forces stationed along the Aegean coast. Hydarnes received them hospitably and questioned their hostility toward the Persian king. In Herodotus’s account, Hydarnes implores them:

“Why do you Lacedaemonians shun the friendship of the Great King? You can see from my treatment of you that the king is just and noble. If you show yourselves honorable, he will reward you likewise. He could even appoint one of you as governor of Hellas.”

To this, the Spartans respond with a sharp retort:

“Your advice, Hydarnes, is partly wise, but also partly ignorant. You know well what it means to live as a slave, but you have never tasted freedom, and thus you do not know whether it is sweet or not. If you had experienced freedom, you would advise us to defend it—not only with our spears but even with axes, if necessary.”

This exchange, despite its dramatic flair, is most likely the literary invention of Herodotus. It is improbable that Spartan emissaries, en route to seek pardon for killing Persian ambassadors, would have spoken so provocatively at a Persian military outpost. Indeed, this passage conforms to a broader narrative strategy in Herodotus’s Histories, wherein Spartans are valorized as exemplars of Greek liberty and defiance.

Upon reaching the Achaemenid court in Susa, the Spartans declared their purpose. Herodotus reports Xerxes’ response in the following words:

“In the greatness of my soul, I shall not behave like the Lacedaemonians. Though they violated all norms by killing heralds—who are sacred among all peoples—I shall not do the same. Nor will I punish you, for your deaths would not undo the offense of your countrymen.”

This measured response reveals not only the royal magnanimity Xerxes wished to project, but also a consistent Achaemenid diplomatic policy that contrasted with the Greek mythos of Persian vindictiveness. Xerxes appears here not as the vengeful tyrant of classical lore, but as a sovereign upholding higher ethical principles—an image in line with Achaemenid royal inscriptions emphasizing divine justice (asha).

Xerxes and Religious Policy: Zoroastrian Orthodoxy or Mithraic Echoes?

Xerxes, like his father Darius, identified strongly with Ahura Mazda, the supreme deity of the Zoroastrian faith. His inscriptions, such as the well-known XPf inscription at Persepolis, reinforce his self-presentation as a restorer of divine order who eradicated the worship of false gods (daiva) and promoted the exclusive reverence of Ahura Mazda:

“By the will of Ahura Mazda I have conquered that land. In those lands where the daiva were worshipped before, I destroyed the daiva temples, and I proclaimed: ‘The daiva shall not be worshipped!’ In those places, I have worshipped Ahura Mazda and Arta, the truth.”

This declaration suggests a forceful religious policy aimed at suppressing local cults in favor of Zoroastrian orthodoxy, or at least its royal variant. It also provides valuable context for later Greek accounts that describe Xerxes destroying temples in Babylon and Greece—not necessarily acts of wanton impiety, but possible expressions of religious purification within a Zoroastrian framework.

Herodotus and Cicero both record that Xerxes destroyed the Temple of Marduk in Babylon and allegedly executed its priest. Greek sources also claim that Xerxes sacked the temples of Athens, as well as those of Thespiae and Plataea, following their resistance or defection. While these accounts are often laden with rhetorical exaggeration, they reflect real episodes of religious and political punishment, refracted through the lens of Hellenic cultural trauma.

Mithraic Influence and Religious Syncretism

Beyond Zoroastrianism, there are indications that Xerxes may have retained elements of Mithraic belief, possibly inherited from his mother Atossa, daughter of Cyrus the Great. Atossa’s lineage, which linked Xerxes to the founding father of the Achaemenid dynasty, also connected him to older Indo-Iranian religious traditions that had not yet been entirely displaced by Zoroastrian reform.

Greek sources, however, often fail to distinguish between Zoroastrian priests (mobeds) and Mithraic Magi, leading to considerable confusion. Diogenes Laërtius, in Lives of the Eminent Philosophers (Βίων τῶν ἐν φιλοσοφίᾳ εὐδοκιμησάντων), provides a muddled but fascinating account of Persian religious practice:

“They spend their days offering sacrifices and prayers, as if the gods hear only them… They believe the gods arise from fire, earth, and water… They reject anthropomorphic images of the gods, especially gendered ones.”

While Diogenes attributes such beliefs to “the Magi,” it is evident that he conflates Zoroastrian doctrines (e.g., rejection of idol worship, burial practices) with Mithraic cosmology (e.g., star worship, sacrificial rituals). He notes that the Magi permit close-kin marriages—a practice found in later Zoroastrian legal texts, though often exaggerated by Greek commentators.

Other ancient authors echo these ambiguities. Aristotle, in On Philosophy, refers to the Magi as predating the Egyptians and outlines their dualist cosmology of good and evil principles: Oromazdes (Ahura Mazda) and Areimanios (Ahriman). Similarly, Dinon and Hermodorus misidentify Zoroaster as a “star worshipper,” further reflecting the confusion between evolving Iranian religious traditions.

Later writers such as Theopompus, Hermippus, and Eudemus of Rhodes credit the Magi with a doctrine of immortality, cosmic preservation through prayer, and divine dualism—all of which align more closely with Mithraic than strict Zoroastrian theology. Some even claim that the Gymnosophists of India and the Jews had origins linked to the Magi—an indication of how widely these ancient religious lineages were perceived to spread.

These overlapping traditions demonstrate that Xerxes’ religious identity cannot be reduced to doctrinaire Zoroastrianism. While he clearly upheld the official worship of Ahura Mazda in his inscriptions, his religious worldview likely retained layers of older Mithraic elements, transmitted through familial heritage and courtly ritual. His destruction of certain temples, as Herodotus and others recount, may thus reflect not only acts of imperial vengeance but also a ritual rejection of daiva-cults inconsistent with this evolving, syncretic imperial theology.


The Invasion of Greece: A Campaign of Imperial Retribution

In 480 BC, Xerxes I launched a monumental campaign against Greece, a military endeavor years in the making. While classical accounts—especially those of Herodotus—tend to portray this invasion as a reckless imperial overreach, the Persian perspective was rooted in retribution and deterrence. The burning of Sardis by Athenian-supported Ionian rebels during the earlier revolts had not been forgotten, and Xerxes viewed his campaign as both a punitive expedition and a preemptive strike to neutralize further unrest on the western frontier of the empire.

Following early victories in northern Greece, the Persian army defeated the Greek coalition at the Battle of Thermopylae, where King Leonidas of Sparta and his small force of hoplites famously fell. In the aftermath, Xerxes’ land forces advanced into Attica, captured Athens, and set fire to the city center in symbolic retaliation for Sardis.

The Battle of Salamis: Naval Calculus and Imperial Overreach

The Battle of Salamis, later in 480 BC, formed the centerpiece of Xerxes’ military confrontation with the Hellenic states. For four years prior, Xerxes had meticulously prepared for this confrontation, assembling a vast force from across the empire. Modern estimates place the size of his army between 200,000 and 300,000, although Herodotus, in his characteristically inflated rhetoric, claims over two million soldiers.

Supplies for this vast army were sourced from Persian satrapies in Egypt, Syria, and Phoenicia, and the diversity of Xerxes’ coalition reflected the empire’s global span. Among the contingents were Persians, Medes, Babylonians, Bactrians, Indians, Scythians, Sogdians, Assyrians, Armenians, Colchians, Thracians, Lydians, Carians, Phoenicians, Egyptians, Libyans, and Arabians—each deployed in their native military formations: infantry, cavalry, chariots, and even war elephants.

According to Herodotus, the Persian fleet comprised over 1,300 warships, many superior in design and agility to their Hellenic counterparts. Some 300 of these were built in Phoenician dockyards; the Ionian satrapies provided nearly the same number. Contributions from Egypt, Cyprus, Cilicia, and various client states brought the fleet to formidable proportions. The ships were manned by a mix of Persian and Median marines, reflecting the political-military hegemony of the imperial core.

A notable episode in this campaign occurred when Greek heralds, captured by Persian forces, were spared by Xerxes. Overruling a subordinate's order for execution, Xerxes instead paraded the prisoners through his encampment before releasing them. This act, perhaps theatrical, was designed to impress upon the Greeks the scale and unity of the imperial force—and indeed, some Greek city-states, seeking self-preservation, capitulated by sending earth and water, symbols of submission.

Xerxes' Justification for War: Herodotean Rhetoric

Herodotus attributes to Xerxes a speech wherein the Great King justifies his campaign in terms of ancestral honor and historical necessity. The king is said to have declared:

“If I do not punish the Athenians, then I am not the son of Darius, son of Hystaspes, son of Arsames, son of Ariaramnes, son of Teispes, son of Achaemenes. They were the first to burn Sardis and march against Asia. If I retreat now, they will not remain idle. The choice before us is not peace or war, but whether Asia shall fall to Greece or Greece to Persia. There is no middle ground.”

Though stylized, this passage encapsulates the ideological framework underpinning Achaemenid imperial expansion: revenge, deterrence, and the assertion of universal dominion.

Themistocles and the Athenian Naval Build-up

Even before the Persian campaign materialized, Themistocles, the visionary Athenian statesman, foresaw the need to fortify Athens. From the time of Xerxes’ accession in 486 BC, Themistocles advocated for naval expansion, recognizing the inevitability of another Persian offensive.

Although the Athenian navy was initially embroiled in a costly maritime conflict with its Saronic rival Aegina, the discovery of silver mines at Laurion in 483 BC offered Athens a unique opportunity. Aristides, a political opponent of Themistocles, proposed that the newfound wealth be distributed equally among citizens—ten drachmas each—a policy that would have undermined strategic investment. Themistocles, invoking the threat of Aegina rather than Persia, successfully argued in the Ecclesia (Athenian assembly) that the funds be redirected toward fleet construction.

To eliminate opposition, Themistocles utilized the institution of ostracism (Greek: ostrakismos ὀστρακισμός), an extraordinary democratic mechanism whereby a citizen could be exiled for ten years if a quorum of 6,000 votes named him on ceramic shards (ostraka). Aristides, despite his reputation for fairness, was exiled—thus clearing the way for a vast expansion of the Athenian navy.

By 480 BC, Themistocles had constructed a new naval base at Piraeus and increased the Athenian fleet to 200 triremes—fast, agile warships equipped with triple banks of oars and fitted with bronze battering rams shaped like stag heads.

Crossing the Hellespont and the March Through Hellas

To transport his massive army into Europe, Xerxes commissioned the construction of two pontoon bridges across the Hellespont (modern Dardanelles). In the spring of 480 BC, the Persian army began assembling at Doriskos, a coastal stronghold in Thrace, before advancing southward through Macedon, Thessaly, and Boeotia. City-states across northern Greece submitted, some willingly, others by compulsion.

Xerxes’ strategy was coordinated: while his land army marched through central Greece, the Persian fleet paralleled its movements along the Aegean, providing logistical support and naval cover on the left flank. With much of northern and central Hellas under Persian control, the Greek resistance became increasingly desperate.

The Formation of the Hellenic League

The existential threat posed by the Persian invasion finally galvanized unity among the often-fractious Greek city-states. As Herodotus reports, delegates from various polities convened and resolved to set aside mutual grievances. Chief among these was the enduring hostility between Athens and Aegina, but under the shadow of Persian advance, reconciliation was achieved.

According to Plutarch, this meeting culminated in the formation of the Hellenic League (Greek: ἡ τῶν Ἑλλήνων συμμαχία), a rare coalition committed to collective defense. Herodotus recounts their efforts:

“Those Greeks who had the welfare of Hellas at heart gathered in one place, exchanged pledges, and resolved to end all disputes among themselves. Learning that Xerxes was at Sardis with his army, they resolved to send spies into Asia to learn of the king’s plans, and also to send embassies to Argos, Sicily, Corcyra, and Crete to solicit assistance.”

They also attempted to draw in powerful external allies, such as Gelon of Syracuse, whose forces in Sicily were reputed to be the most formidable among the western Greeks. Nonetheless, it was Sparta that assumed the military leadership of the alliance, providing commanders for both land and naval forces—Leonidas at Thermopylae, Eurybiades at Artemisium and Salamis, and Pausanias at Plataea.

This moment of unprecedented unity—however temporary—would define the course of the Persian Wars and shape the collective Greek identity for generations.


The Battle of Thermopylae and the March Toward Athens

As Xerxes’ vast army pressed southward and Hellenic resistance faltered, the Hellenic League resolved to block the Persian advance at two critical chokepoints: Thermopylae on land, and Artemisium at sea. Thermopylae, a narrow mountain pass flanked by steep terrain on one side and the sea on the other, offered a rare opportunity to neutralize Persia’s overwhelming numerical superiority.

The Hellenic land forces, numbering around 7,000, were led by King Leonidas I of Sparta and included the elite corps of 300 Spartan hoplites, along with contingents from other city-states. Despite the symbolic prominence of the Spartans, it was a pan-Hellenic force drawn from across central Greece that held the pass.

The naval front at Artemisium—a promontory on the northern coast of the island of Euboea (Evia)—was strategically vital. From this base, the Greek fleet could guard the entrance to the Maliac Gulf (Μαλιακὸς κόλπος) and support Leonidas’ land forces. The shoreline of Artemisium, a long flat beach ideal for mooring ships, offered a stable base for the fleet’s operations.

The fleet, commanded by Eurybiades of Sparta—chosen over Themistocles due to inter-polis rivalry—comprised 271 triremes from various city-states, including:

  • Athens: 127 ships

  • Corinth: 40

  • Aegina: 18

  • Megara: 20

  • Chalcis: 20

  • Sparta (Lacedaemonians): 10

  • Sicyon: 12

  • Epidauros: 8

  • Eretria: 7

  • Troezen: 5

  • Styra: 2

  • Kios: 2 triremes and 2 pentekonters

  • Opus (Opuntians): 7 pentekonters (50-oared ships)

Persian Naval Setbacks by two Violent Storms and Greek Defense

As the Persian fleet passed the coast of Thessaly near Mount Ossa, it was struck by a violent storm that wrecked nearly 400 ships against the rocky shore. Nonetheless, the Persian navy remained a formidable force. Xerxes ordered a flanking maneuver: 200 ships were sent through the Skiathos Strait, around the southern tip of Euboea, intending to attack the Greek fleet at Artemisium from the rear. However, a second storm off the coast of Euboea destroyed the entire detachment.

Despite these setbacks, the Persian navy still significantly outnumbered the Greek fleet. Herodotus reports that 600 ships were lost to the storms, yet Xerxes purportedly replaced most of them. According to Aeschylus, who fought at Salamis, the Persian fleet numbered 1,207 vessels, including 207 fast triremes. Other ancient sources provide similar figures:

  • Diodorus Siculus and Lysias: 1,200 ships

  • Ephoros of Cyme: 1,207

  • Isocrates: 1,300 at Doriskos, 1,200 at Salamis

The Battle of Thermopylae: Strategy and Sacrifice

In mid-September 480 BC, with Persian forces estimated at 200,000, the Hellenic army attempted to block their advance at Thermopylae. The narrowness of the pass prevented the Persian army from fully deploying its cavalry, including the elite 10,000 Immortals, and also limited the effectiveness of their archers. Persian infantry, armed with short swords (akinakes) and light armor, were at a disadvantage against Greek spears and hoplite shields.

For two days, the Greeks held firm. Their superior knowledge of the terrain allowed them to repel wave after wave of Persian assaults. On the third day, however, Persian scouts—assisted by a local guide sympathetic to Persia—discovered a hidden mountain path. Xerxes dispatched his Immortals through it, and at dawn, the Greeks found themselves outflanked.

Faced with encirclement, Leonidas convened a council. Many contingents withdrew to fight another day. Remaining were the 300 Spartans, 700 Thespians, and 400 Thebans—though the Thebans eventually defected or surrendered. The remaining forces made a final, suicidal stand.

Some scholars believe Leonidas deliberately stayed behind to delay the Persian advance and buy time for the retreating Greek army. After fierce resistance, Leonidas and his men were overwhelmed. Xerxes reportedly ordered his archers to finish the job from a distance. Archaeological remains, including Persian arrowheads, support the scale and ferocity of the final stand.

Themistocles, Bribery, and the Battle of Artemisium

While the land battle raged at Thermopylae, the Persian fleet approached Artemisium. Facing Persian naval superiority, some Greek commanders proposed retreat. Fearing imminent Persian landing and destruction, a group of Euboeans discreetly offered Themistocles—commander of the Athenian fleet—thirty talents of silver (approx. $600,000  in 2025) to bribe the other commanders into remaining.

Themistocles, ever pragmatic, claimed the money as his own. He distributed five talents to Eurybiades, the Spartan admiral, and three talents to Adeimantus of Corinth. The remaining 22 talents he kept, likely to use for political leverage later.

Western historians often glorify Themistocles’ role at Salamis, overlooking this episode of mercenary maneuvering, which Themistocles himself would later invoke when seeking asylum at the Persian court of Artaxerxes, Xerxes’ son. There, he proudly recounted his past “services” to the Persian cause and was richly rewarded.

The Fall of Athens and the Burning of the Acropolis

Following Thermopylae, the Persian army advanced into Attica. The Athenians, recognizing the city’s indefensibility, evacuated to Salamis. A small contingent of hoplites remained on the Acropolis (ἀκρόπολις) to guard the sacred precincts. The Persians quickly breached the citadel, overwhelmed the defenders, and burned Athens in retaliation for Sardis.

According to Herodotus, Xerxes dispatched a messenger to Susa to proclaim the capture of Athens and subsequently instructed the Athenian exiles within his ranks to ascend the Acropolis and perform sacrificial rites. While Herodotus attributes this to a dream, it may also reflect a deeper Mithraic ritual consciousness inherited from his maternal lineage. Xerxes’ mother, Atossa, the daughter of Cyrus the Great, had long been sympathetic to the Mithraic tradition, which revered Mithra as the guardian of truth, covenants, and especially the sun—a divine figure frequently equated by the Greeks with Apollo. Thus, the Persian king’s command to perform sacrifices at the sacred height of the Acropolis may have been less an homage to Greek religious custom and more a continuation of ancestral Persian rites, consistent with the syncretic image of Mithra-Apollo. Meanwhile, Persian troops plundered the temple treasury, symbolically asserting not only political domination but also the spiritual superiority of the imperial order over Athenian civic religion.


The Battle of Salamis: Deception and Retreat

Herodotus and Diodorus recount that Themistocles, recognizing the dire naval situation, devised a cunning stratagem. He sent false intelligence to Xerxes, claiming that the Greek alliance was disintegrating and that parts of his own army—especially Thessalians, Thebans, and Argives—were unreliable. Xerxes, convinced, deployed his fleet into the narrow Salamis strait, expecting an easy victory.

Instead, the confined waters neutralized Persian numerical superiority. The agile Greek triremes, especially the Athenian fleet, exploited the disorder in the Persian ranks. The resulting naval rout forced Xerxes to reconsider the campaign.

According to Diodorus, Themistocles followed up with another ruse: he sent Xerxes' son’s tutor with a warning that the Greeks planned to destroy the Hellespont bridge, cutting off the Persian army’s retreat. Alarmed, Xerxes withdrew, leaving Mardonius in charge of a reduced force (approx. 400,000) to continue the campaign.

Xerxes' Withdrawal and Strategic Reassessment

While later Greek dramatists like Aeschylus would depict Xerxes’ return to Persia as a scene of humiliation and despair—“One blow, and all that grandeur was destroyed”—modern historians present a more measured view.

Xerxes likely realized that subjugating Greece would not be swift or cost-effective. Athens had already been destroyed, the message of imperial power sent. With urgent matters demanding his attention in Persia, Xerxes chose to return, delegating further operations to Mardonius. The campaign was not a total failure for Persia: it left a powerful message and weakened the Greek states significantly. Yet it also marked the beginning of an enduring conflict that would define Greco-Persian relations for decades.

Themistocles’ Double-Dealings

It is conceivable that during the heat of the Salamis campaign, Themistocles once again sent a secret message to Xerxes, likely through Sisinus, the same Persian envoy who had previously carried his deceitful warnings. In this message, Themistocles informed the king that he had done him a service by preventing the Greek coalition from pursuing the retreating Persian fleet and destroying the pontoon bridge across the Hellespont, thereby allowing Xerxes to return safely to Asia with honor and logistical security.

But was Themistocles merely manipulating the Persian king for Greek advantage, or was he an opportunist laying the groundwork for his own future? The answer becomes clearer when we recall that not long after, Themistocles sought asylum at the Achaemenid court, addressing a letter to Artaxerxes I, son and successor of Xerxes, in which he reminded the king that he had once served his father faithfully. Themistocles was subsequently accepted into the Persian court, granted estates, and employed in Artaxerxes’ intelligence services, where he provided strategic military insights and counter-Greek information. His career thus exemplifies the ambiguous loyalties and transactional diplomacy that would increasingly characterize Greco-Persian relations in the decades ahead.

Xerxes' Strategic Pivot and Peace Proposal

In 479 BC, after reassessing the costs and risks of a prolonged continental campaign, Xerxes adopted a new diplomatic strategy aimed at breaking the fragile unity of the Greek city-states. He sent a direct offer of peace to Athens, promising complete autonomy, reconstruction funding for its temples, and even territorial expansion. This was a pragmatic and cost-saving proposition: rather than continuing to drain the imperial treasury on mountainous supply lines, naval operations, and infantry campaigns, Xerxes sought to win over Athens diplomatically. An Athenian alliance would have secured command of the Aegean, neutralized Sparta, and ensured low-cost hegemony over the Hellenic world.

This strategy—carefully calculated and later perfected under Artaxerxes I—terrified the Spartans. They feared that a Persian-aligned Athens, armed with imperial resources and naval superiority, could dominate all of Greece. Though Athens ultimately rejected the offer, citing cultural and religious unity with other Greeks, the diplomatic pressure succeeded in exposing the internal rivalries of the Greek alliance. According to Herodotus, Athens responded with words meant to reassure its allies:

“We are of the same blood and language, we share the same gods and the same altars, and we participate in the same sacrifices and customs.”


The Battle of Plataea and Its Contradictions

After Xerxes' return to Persia, Greek infighting resumed. In the wake of the Thermopylae and Salamis campaigns, several powerful city-states—including Thebes, Pharsalus, and Larissa—openly joined the Persian side, contributing elite phalanxes, cavalry, and logistical support. Meanwhile, Mardonius, left in command of a considerable force in Thrace, prepared to renew the campaign in central Greece.

Sparta, initially reluctant to engage Mardonius, had fortified the Isthmus of Corinth, believing the Peloponnese could be defended in isolation. Athens, twice destroyed and abandoned, was outraged at Spartan passivity. Its leaders warned the Spartans that if left unsupported, they might accept Persian aid. Herodotus, with some sarcasm, notes:

“In that case, the Persian fleet could destroy the allied ships one by one, and the Spartans could die an honorable death!”

Sparta finally relented and sent an army under Pausanias, while other Greek states again rallied to the alliance. Mardonius razed Athens a second time but moved north to Plataea, where terrain favored his cavalry. There, roughly 50,000 Greeks from various city-states—Boeotians, Locrians, Phocians, Malians—fought on the Persian side, complicating the simplistic Greek narrative of freedom versus tyranny. The diversity of support for Persia indicates that many Greeks feared domination by Athens or Sparta as much as they did foreign rule.

In the ensuing battle, Mardonius was killed, and Greek sources claim a decisive victory. Yet, as later sections will show, this narrative was shaped more by patriotic mythmaking than by strategic reality. Greek hostility toward Persia was never as consistent as later historians like Herodotus, Aristotle, or Isocrates suggested. In fact, many elites across Hellas repeatedly sought favor with the Persian court.

Pausanias and the Culture of Medism

One striking example of this duplicity is the post-war conduct of Pausanias, the Spartan general who had commanded at Plataea. Instead of celebrating victory in austere Laconic style, he adopted Persian customs and wrote to Xerxes offering a marriage alliance and a promise to bring all of Greece under Persian rule. According to Bryant, Xerxes was pleased and sent Artabazus with a formal reply and generous rewards. Pausanias, now enthralled with Persian luxury, dressed in Median robes, dined in Eastern opulence, and paraded through Byzantium with Egyptian and Median attendants.

The Persian court, skilled in the recruitment of ambitious Greeks, welcomed Pausanias. This cultural phenomenon became known as "medism"—the imitation of and collaboration with the Medes and Persians. While Herodotus glosses over Pausanias’ treachery, Thucydides reveals that the Spartan general was accused of conspiracy. Though initially acquitted, further evidence emerged, including a letter discovered by a young Argive courier who, fearing for his life, opened it to find instructions for his own execution—proof of a broader treasonous plot.

Eventually, Pausanias fled to the Temple of Athena, but the Spartans walled him inside and left him to starve—a grim end to one of the most decorated generals in Spartan history.


The Death of Xerxes and the End of an Era

In 465 BC, Xerxes I was assassinated by Artabanus, commander of the royal bodyguard, with the aid of a palace eunuch named Aspamithres (Greek: Aspamitras). The circumstances of his death remain opaque, shaped by both Persian court intrigue and later Greek interpretations. Yet Xerxes’ assassination marked the end of a reign defined by imperial overreach, failed integration of Hellenic lands, and the first major shift in Persian geopolitical strategy—from direct conquest to diplomacy, infiltration, and proxy alliances.

Despite military setbacks, Xerxes’ reign shaped the Persian-Greek world for decades. His political legacy lived on in the calculated pragmatism of Artaxerxes I, who turned many of the lessons of his father’s campaigns into a more sustainable policy of indirect influence—one that would ultimately prove more effective than any battlefield victory.


Conclusion: Xerxes and the Imperial Continuum of Light and Power

The reign of Xerxes I, often reduced in Western historical memory to a tale of overreaching ambition and failed conquest, reveals upon closer inspection a far more multifaceted figure, shaped by both sacred tradition and pragmatic realpolitik. Far from being merely a despotic shadow of his father Darius, Xerxes embodied the continuity of the Achaemenid imperial project, extending and adapting its spiritual, administrative, and geopolitical dimensions.

At the heart of his imperial worldview was a Mithraic conception of kingship, inherited deeply in the ancestral legacy of Cyrus the Great. As previous chapters have shown, Cyrus’s devotion to Mithra, the radiant deity of truth, covenants, and solar justice, was not simply a private faith—it was the metaphysical cornerstone of an empire envisioned as a reflection of cosmic order (asha). This same logic permeated Xerxes’ governance. His invocation of divine legitimacy, his enforcement of oaths, and his use of ritual sacrifice—such as the symbolic acts at the Athenian Acropolis—point to a solar-Mithraic consciousness of kingship. The influence of his mother, Atossa, daughter of Cyrus and sympathetic to pre-Zoroastrian Mithraic values, further grounded Xerxes in this tradition, even as he confronted the complexities of ruling a polyethnic empire.

Politically, Xerxes continued the centralization and codification begun under Darius. He upheld the satrapal system, fortified the empire’s communication networks, and reasserted royal authority over semi-autonomous regions. Yet he also adapted to changing conditions, experimenting with softer instruments of power. His shift from direct military confrontation to strategic diplomacy and proxy governance, particularly in Hellas, marked a transition from imperial expansion to imperial consolidation. This shift would later be perfected by his successors, especially Artaxerxes I, who followed Xerxes’ model of undermining Greek unity through subsidies, bribes, and factional manipulation rather than open war.

In the realm of culture and art, Xerxes presided over the completion and monumental expansion of Persepolis, whose grand reliefs, stairways, and throne halls were not mere architectural feats, but visual theology—a celebration of imperial order, diversity, and divine favor. The Apadana, with its processional scenes of tribute-bearing nations, immortalized the king’s role as the pivot between heaven and earth, law and land, light and loyalty. His patronage of imperial Aramaic and standardization of administrative scripts further fostered cultural integration and bureaucratic unity across the empire’s vast territories.

Even in his military problems, particularly the setback at Salamis, Xerxes demonstrated a capacity for recalibration and  improvement, leaving Mardonius in Greece while he returned to Susa to preserve the empire’s stability. His withdrawal was not a mark of defeat, but of strategic realism—a recognition that the conquest of Hellas would not come cheaply, and that the preservation of empire required balance, not hubris.

In Hellenic imagination, Xerxes became a symbol of Asiatic arrogance and divine punishment, immortalized in Aeschylus’s Persians as a tragic lesson in overreaching pride. Yet this image—shaped by poetic bias and nationalist rhetoric—conceals a more nuanced reality: Xerxes was not the destroyer of civilization but its complex negotiator, balancing war and peace, tradition and innovation, divine legitimacy and imperial necessity.

His assassination in 465 BC by court conspirators marked the end of an era, but his reign left behind a transformed imperial consciousness. Xerxes was the last king to seriously attempt the westward expansion of Achaemenid rule by arms, and the first to pivot decisively toward soft power, cultural diplomacy, and psychological warfare. In this, he laid the strategic and ideological groundwork for a later synthesis of Iranian and Hellenic civilizations under the Macedonian conquest—a synthesis that would reinterpret Mithra not just as an Iranian solar deity, but as a cosmic mediator venerated from the Parthians to the Roman legions.

Thus, in Xerxes we see not only a king of war and grandeur, but a transitional figure of deep spiritual inheritance, political ingenuity, and artistic vision—whose reign, when viewed beyond the distortions of Herodotean drama, belongs not to the ashes of failed conquest, but to the enduring architecture of empire.




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