Chapter Five – The Reign of Darius the Achaemenid (522–486 BC)
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Introduction
The three decades leading up to the reign of Darius I witnessed a remarkable transformation within the Achaemenid dynasty, evolving from a modest ruling house to the dominant power of the ancient world. By the early sixth century BC, the nascent empire had burgeoned into a vast dominion, stretching from North Africa to the Hindu Kush and from the Syr Darya to the Persian Gulf. This expansion forged a unified transcontinental imperial structure, establishing unparalleled access to major maritime trade networks and laying the groundwork for a new era of global interaction.
The resources at its disposal—timber, metals, grain, leather—were drawn from a diversity of ecological zones and coordinated through a vast administrative system. The navy built by Cambyses enabled the Achaemenids to extend their authority far beyond the Iranian plateau and secure their maritime frontiers.
While Darius I is widely celebrated for his administrative genius and the significant reforms he enacted, it is crucial to recognize that his monumental achievements were fundamentally built upon the foundational work of his predecessors, Cyrus and Cambyses. These earlier rulers had already established key courtly institutions, initiated the centralization of the imperial elite, and laid the basic framework for the formidable Persian military and administrative systems that Darius would inherit and refine.
Under Darius, the empire's economic system notably resembled the Neo-Elamite model, where the palace definitively replaced the temple as the central locus of economic control. This vast and complex system was meticulously managed by a large, hierarchical bureaucracy responsible for record-keeping, resource allocation, and the overall management of imperial assets. The administrative language, Achaemenid Elamite, further underscored a continuity with older traditions, linking Darius’s innovations with the established practices of the region.
The circumstances surrounding Darius's accession remain one of the most controversial episodes of his reign, particularly his confrontation with Bardia. According to Darius's own account, enshrined in the monumental Behistun inscription, a Magian priest named Gaumata usurped the throne by impersonating Bardia, the younger brother of Cambyses, who had, according to Darius, been secretly assassinated. Darius vehemently claimed to have overthrown this impostor, thereby restoring legitimate rule to the Achaemenid line. However, many contemporary scholars view this narrative with skepticism, often interpreting it as a carefully constructed political myth designed to legitimize Darius's controversial seizure of power. These scholars frequently suggest that the figure Darius denounced as the "false Bardia" may, in fact, have been the true Bardia, and that Darius's own claim to the throne was questionable, quite possibly stemming from a military coup rather than a legitimate succession.
The chapter details the pivotal conspiracy that ultimately led to the overthrow of Bardia. This cabal comprised seven prominent Persian nobles: Otanes, Aspathines, Gobryas, Hydarnes, Intaphrenes, Megabyzus, and Darius himself. Darius is prominently credited with personally killing the alleged impostor. Following this dramatic event, the conspirators engaged in a heated debate regarding the future form of government for the Achaemenid Empire. Darius, through his persuasive arguments, successfully advocated for the restoration of monarchy, a decision that would define the empire for centuries. The Behistun inscription meticulously lists these conspirators, and their crucial roles in restoring order after widespread revolts that erupted across the empire are consistently highlighted. For instance, Intaphernes was instrumental in crushing a significant rebellion in Babylon, Hydarnes bravely subdued a Median revolt, Gobryas was strategically deployed against an Elamite uprising, and Otanes led a decisive campaign to recapture the vital island of Samos.
A compelling illustration of the challenges to imperial authority and Darius's methods of control is found in the rebellion of Oroetes, the powerful satrap of Lydia. Oroetes brazenly refused to acknowledge Darius's authority, posing a direct threat to the newly consolidated empire. Unable to immediately deploy a large army to the distant satrapy, Darius resorted to cunning and psychological warfare. He dispatched Bagaeus, a trusted aide, with a series of royal edicts. These edicts were read aloud to Oroetes’s own guards, gradually revealing a new royal decree that ordered them to assassinate their satrap. This daring plan was successfully carried out, demonstrating both the inherent fragility of satrapal loyalty in the vast empire and the immense, almost supernatural, power ascribed to the royal command. This episode, alongside the widespread revolts following his accession, reflects deeply on the themes of legitimacy and resistance that characterized the early years of Darius’s reign. Many Persian nobles, it seems, retained loyalties to Cyrus's direct lineage and to pluralistic traditions, but Darius's forceful and often ruthless suppression of dissent ultimately led to the undeniable consolidation of imperial power under his firm hand.
Finally, the chapter touches upon Darius's ambitious Western aspirations, a vision significantly influenced by Atossa, the formidable daughter of Cyrus. Atossa fervently urged the continuation of Cyrus's grand vision for Persian dominion over the Aegean world. In pursuit of this, Darius sent his Greek physician Democedes on a critical reconnaissance mission to various Greek cities, aiming to gather intelligence for future campaigns. However, this mission ended abruptly with Democedes's successful escape back to his homeland, complicating Darius's intelligence gathering for future Greek campaigns. The article also briefly mentions the Scythian Campaign, a significant but ultimately inconclusive expedition into the Black Sea Frontier, which solidified the empire's northern borders. The chapter concludes by discussing the famous Battle of Marathon. It is noted that Western narratives have often romanticized this battle as a quintessential triumph of democracy over tyranny. However, the esteemed ancient Greek historian Thucydides, a key authority on the Peloponnesian War, barely mentions Marathon in his comprehensive work, largely dismissing it as a minor, almost inconsequential, episode in the broader sweep of Greco-Persian conflicts, offering a vital counterpoint to its later historical prominence.
The Confrontation with Bardia
According to the narrative presented in the Behistun inscription, a Magian priest named Gaumata seized the throne in March 522 BC by impersonating Bardia (Greek: Smerdis), the younger brother of Cambyses. Darius asserts that Bardia had been assassinated in secret by Cambyses, and that Gaumata exploited the secrecy of the murder to present himself as the rightful heir. The ruse, Darius claims, was effective even among the inner court, with nobles and provincial governors submitting to the false claimant. Cambyses, upon hearing the news, began his return from Egypt to suppress the revolt but died en route—either from natural causes or by suicide.
The Behistun inscription recounts:
“Cambyses killed Bardia. When Cambyses had done this, the people did not know that Bardia was dead. Afterward, Cambyses went to Egypt. Then the people became hostile, and lies spread in the land—both in Persia and Media and the other provinces. A certain Magian, named Gaumata, rose in rebellion at Pishiyauvada, on Mount Arakadrish. On the 14th day of the month Viyaxana [i.e., 21 March 522 BC], he falsely declared: ‘I am Bardia, the son of Cyrus, the brother of Cambyses.’ The people were deceived, and the kingdom fell to him on the 9th of the month Garmapada [i.e., 1 July 522 BC]. Then Cambyses died.”
Herodotus offers a parallel, though embellished, account. According to him, Cambyses, plagued by a dream in which his brother sat on a royal throne reaching the heavens, sent his trusted officer Prexaspes to murder Bardia. The assassination, Herodotus reports, may have occurred during a hunting trip or by drowning in the Persian Gulf. Herodotus attributes Cambyses’ later instability to guilt over the fratricide, while also acknowledging that Egyptian priests had ample reason to vilify Cambyses—chiefly because he curtailed the income of their temples. Archaeological evidence, including the ceremonial burial of the Apis bull, indicates that Cambyses treated Egyptian religion with far more respect than the hostile tradition suggests.
Yet the plausibility of Darius’s account has long been questioned. Scholars such as Olmstead, Winckler, Nyberg, Burn, Bickerman, Tadmor, Gershevitch, Sancisi-Weerdenburg, Cook, and Balcer regard the Behistun narrative as a work of political myth-making. Olmstead, in particular, dismisses the supposed deathbed confession of Prexaspes as a narrative device conveniently beyond verification. The idea that even Bardia’s mother and sisters could not distinguish the impostor from the true prince is highly improbable. Moreover, the man Darius names Gaumata may well have been the actual Bardia—the legitimate son of Cyrus and the rightful heir to the throne.
Darius’s own legitimacy, despite repeated insistence on his Achaemenid ancestry, remains questionable. The lack of contemporary evidence directly linking him to Cyrus suggests that he may have been a distant cousin at best. His accession appears to have resulted from a military coup executed with the support of a small circle of Persian nobles—an event later reframed as the righteous overthrow of a usurper.
As such, the figure known to Darius as the “false Bardia” may in fact have been the true Bardia, eliminated to make way for a ruler with no indisputable dynastic claim. The Behistun inscription, for all its rhetorical power and historical importance, must therefore be read as a carefully constructed political artifact—designed not to record history faithfully, but to secure power through narrative control.
The Conspirators: Darius and the Overthrow of Bardia
According to Herodotus, Otanes (Old Persian: Utāna), the brother-in-law of Cyrus the Great and half-uncle of Cambyses, was the first among the Persian elite to suspect that the man ruling as King Bardia was in fact an impostor. His suspicions were based on testimony from his daughter Phaidyma, who had been married to the reigning king. She reported that her husband was not Bardia, the true son of Cyrus, but rather a magus who had taken his place. While this revelation is pivotal in the traditional account of the conspiracy, the role of the magus requires careful interpretation. The Magi were the priestly caste of the Median and Persian religious tradition, particularly prominent in the Mithraic cult that Bardia is believed to have revered. Thus, Phaidyma’s use of the term magus may have been made partly in jest, or in recognition of Bardia’s religious identity, rather than as a direct accusation of impersonation.
Nevertheless, Otanes summoned two trusted allies—Aspathines (possibly Aspachana in Old Persian) and Gobryas (Old Persian: Gaubaruva)—to a private council. At their meeting, they resolved to expand the circle of conspirators by inviting three more: Hydarnes (Vidarna), Intaphrenes (Vindafarnah), and Megabyzus (Bagabuxsha). Initially uncertain of how to proceed, their efforts gained new momentum with the arrival of Darius, a member of a junior Achaemenid line, who traveled from Susa to join their cause. Encouraged by Otanes’s counsel, the group resolved to act.
The conspirators entered the royal palace, where Darius allegedly approached the king without resistance and killed the man they claimed was the imposter Gaumata. Herodotus reports that following the assassination, the seven rebels debated the future form of government for the empire. Otanes proposed a democracy; Megabyzus advocated for an oligarchy; and Darius, with characteristic assertiveness, insisted on monarchy. All ultimately agreed with Darius, who was then proclaimed king. While many scholars consider this dialogue a literary construction, Herodotus insists it was a genuine deliberation, offering it as evidence of the Persians’ familiarity with multiple constitutional models. Later historical events—such as the granting of democratic privileges to Greek cities by Persian satraps—lend some support to Herodotus’s claim. It is not unreasonable to suppose that some form of deliberation among the conspirators did occur.
Darius himself refers to these events in his Behistun inscription:
“These are the men who were with me when I slew Gaumata the Magian who called himself Bardia: Vindafarnah (Intaphrenes), Utāna (Otanes), Gaubaruva (Gobryas), Vidarna (Hydarnes), Bagabuxsha (Megabyzus), and Ardumanish (Ardumaniš/Aspathines). You who will be king hereafter—protect the family of these men.”
Curiously, Ardumanish (Arjomana) appears only once in the Behistun inscription and does not feature prominently elsewhere in the record. Some scholars have suggested that he may have perished during the assault on the palace or soon thereafter, which could explain his limited mention. In contrast, in the sculptural reliefs at Darius’s tomb at Naqsh-e Rustam, six noblemen are depicted surrounding the king. The first two are labeled as Gaubaruva and Aspachana, suggesting that Aspachana (Aspathines) may have succeeded Ardumanish’s position among the Seven.
According to Herodotus, Aspathines was the father of Prexaspes (likely Fravartish Aspachana), who had earlier been entrusted by Cambyses with the assassination of Bardia. Whether he was acting on genuine orders or part of a deeper conspiracy remains unclear. Darius’s inscriptions note that, in the first year of his reign, Vidarna, Vindafarnah, and Gaubaruva were commanders of the royal army. Herodotus also notes that later, under Darius’s orders, Otanes commanded the Persian expedition that seized the island of Samos. As a reward for his loyalty, Otanes received the satrapy of Cappadocia, where his descendants governed as client kings of the Achaemenids until the arrival of Alexander the Great. As the Russian historian Vladimir Dandamaev notes, the kings of Pontus also claimed descent from this elite circle of Persian nobles.
To further secure his legitimacy, Darius married multiple royal women. He took as his principal wife Atossa, daughter of Cyrus the Great, as well as her younger sister Artystone. He also married a daughter of Bardia—although Herodotus asserts that Cambyses had no children—and another daughter of Otanes, who had previously been married to both Cambyses and Bardia. Dandamaev identifies Otanes as the brother of Queen Cassandane, Cyrus’s wife, which would explain his prominence in court politics. Herodotus notes that both Cassandane and Otanes shared the same father, Pharnaspes. However, Darius himself states that the father of Otanes was Thukhra, a name of apparent Parthian origin—highlighting the complex interplay of ethnic identities within the Persian nobility.
Religion, Legitimacy, and the Imperial Mindset
Unlike Cyrus and his sons, whose political and religious tolerance reflected a Mithraic and pre-Zoroastrian Elamite tradition, Darius explicitly identifies as a Zoroastrian in his royal inscriptions. This marked a decisive shift in the religious identity of the Achaemenid monarchy. Cyrus, by contrast, never mentioned Ahura Mazda in any surviving texts attributed to him. As Avram R. Shannon observes, the Cyrus Cylinder—composed in Babylonian cuneiform—presents a model of royal legitimacy that is strikingly pluralistic. In this text, Cyrus credits Marduk, the patron god of Babylon, with choosing him to rule and pledges to restore temples and guarantee religious freedoms across the empire. The language of the Cylinder reflects an ecumenical political theology that vanishes from Achaemenid texts under Darius and his successors.
Darius, by contrast, repeatedly invokes Ahura Mazda as the divine source of his right to rule and as the guarantor of truth and order (asha). The transition from the religious pluralism of Cyrus to the more exclusivist Zoroastrian ideology of Darius represents not only a spiritual realignment, but also a deeper transformation of the state. Where Cyrus governed through charismatic authority and adaptive legitimacy, Darius rooted his kingship in orthodoxy, divine election, and imperial law.
Inventing a Dynasty: Darius and the Rise of Zoroastrian Kingship
As M. Waters has noted, the name Achaemenid and any reference to a dynastic lineage derived from Achaemenes (Haxāmaniš) appear only in the inscriptions of Darius I and his successors. Neither Cyrus the Great nor Cambyses ever referred to themselves as Achaemenids, nor did they construct genealogies tracing their descent to a common ancestor named Achaemenes. The brief inscriptions attributed to Cyrus at Pasargadae—insisting on his Achaemenid identity—were in fact commissioned under Darius, serving as retroactive legitimations of dynastic continuity. In this respect, Darius created what modern scholarship has termed a bifurcated model of the Achaemenid dynasty: one branch stemming from Cyrus, the founder and charismatic conqueror, and the other from Darius, the institutionalizer and legislator. The Achaemenid lineage thus functioned less as a historical reality than as an ideological instrument—crafted by Darius to justify his claim to the throne and to stabilize imperial succession.
Darius’s parents, Hystaspes (Vištāspa) and Rhodogune, were both adherents of the Zoroastrian faith. It was on the basis of their religious convictions that Darius, along with his son Xerxes, undertook what they regarded as a holy struggle against non-Zoroastrian peoples—those whom they referred to as daiva-yazna, “worshippers of demons.” Their royal inscriptions openly declare their campaign to impose the worship of Ahura Mazda and to root out the false cults that they believed imperiled both state and cosmos. Darius, in particular, emphasized that his kingship had been granted by Ahura Mazda in reward for his defense of truth (asha) and his destruction of the lie (drauga), terms central to Zoroastrian theology.
Thus began the transformation of Zoroastrianism into the institutional religion of the Achaemenid Empire. The ancient priesthood of the Magi—long associated with the Median-Mithraic cults—was systematically displaced. Zoroastrian priests, or mōbeds, increasingly assumed the ceremonial and administrative roles once held by their Mithraic predecessors. The Mithraic cult, with its cosmic dualism and veneration of solar deities, was gradually pushed to the margins of imperial culture and eventually driven underground.
A potent reflection of this transformation survives in a symbolic form in the Book of Daniel in the Hebrew Bible. In one episode, Darius, urged by his counselors and satraps, is said to decree that for thirty days no prayer should be offered to any god or man except to the king himself. As the narrative records:
“O King, live forever! All the governors of the kingdom, the administrators and satraps, the counselors and advisors, have consulted together to establish a royal statute and to make a firm decree, that whoever petitions any god or man for thirty days, except you, O king, shall be cast into the den of lions. Now, O King, establish the decree and sign the writing, so that it cannot be altered, according to the law of the Medes and Persians, which does not change.” (Daniel 6:6–8)
Though apocryphal, this episode resonates with the ideological shifts of Darius’s reign. It echoes the authoritarian impulse to centralize not only political but religious authority—a hallmark of Zoroastrian kingship. While the historicity of the biblical Darius is contested, the underlying message aligns with Darius’s well-documented efforts to unify his realm under a single, state-sponsored religion.
Zoroaster, or Zarathustra, had demoted the ancient Indo-Iranian gods—chief among them Mithra—to the status of daivas (false gods or demons). In doing so, he positioned Ahura Mazda as the sole creator and lord of truth. Scholars have long debated the origins of this monotheistic formulation. Some argue that Ahura Mazda derives from the Asura of the Indo-Aryan Rigveda, a class of divine beings distinct from the later devas. Others, such as J. H. Moulton, follow the earlier claim by Martin Jamme (1911) in suggesting a closer link between Ahura Mazda and the Assyrian god Ashur. Moulton points to the figure of Asara Mazas, a deity listed in Assyrian god lists, as potential evidence for this cultural cross-pollination. This argument is further supported by the symbolic continuity between Ashur and the faravahar—the winged disc motif adopted by the Achaemenids, featuring a human figure rising from the sun, often holding a ring of sovereignty. While the phonetic convergence of Asura and Ashur may be coincidental, the influence of Assyrian religious iconography and titulature—such as malka malka (“king of kings”)—on early Persian kingship cannot be entirely dismissed.
Darius’s inscriptions, especially those at Behistun, are replete with Zoroastrian terminology and religious affirmations. They bear witness to his conscious campaign to convert the imperial realm to Mazdaean orthodoxy. It appears likely that Darius, as a committed Zoroastrian, regarded both Cambyses and the figure he identified as Gaumata as adherents of the old Mithraic order. By casting Gaumata as a Magus, Darius sought to associate him not merely with political treachery but with religious deviance. His campaign against the Magi was not only a battle for the throne but also a theological purge.
In his own words, recorded in the Behistun inscription, Darius recalls:
“There was no man who dared to rise against Gaumata the Magus, until I did. I prayed to Ahura Mazda, and Ahura Mazda brought me aid. On the tenth day of the month Bagayādish [11 November 522 BC], with a few loyal men, I slew Gaumata the Magus and those nobles who had followed him. I killed him at the fortress called Sikayauvatiš, in the district of Nisāya in Media. By the favor of Ahura Mazda, I seized the kingship.”
Thus, the consolidation of Darius’s rule was inseparable from the religious transformation of the empire. His claim to legitimacy rested not only on political victory and genealogical invention but also on a new vision of divine kingship—one that yoked Persian imperial authority to the singular god of Zoroaster, and redefined the religious landscape of the ancient Near East.
Rebellions in the Wake of Darius’s Accession
The consolidation of Darius I's rule was far from smooth. As the Behistun Inscription makes clear, his accession sparked widespread revolts across the empire. Many of these uprisings were in support of Bardiya—whether real or alleged—and arose in direct opposition to Darius’s efforts to centralize power and impose Zoroastrianism as the empire’s dominant religion. Although he ultimately crushed the rebellions, the deep fissures created by his religious zeal left long-lasting effects on the cultural and economic fabric of the empire.
Revolts in Babylon and Armenia
Contemporary evidence from both Babylon and Egypt confirms that Darius came to power in 522 BC. Herodotus reports that Cambyses ruled for seven years and five months, a chronology corroborated by Babylonian records. The final extant Babylonian inscription attributed to Cambyses is dated to the twenty-third day of the first month in the eighth year of his reign—corresponding to early 522 BC—and notes the rise of Bardiya in the final month of 523 BC.
If Bardiya did rule for eight months, his reign would have lasted through the last month of 523 and into the first seven months of 522 BC, ending with his assassination near Kermanshah on the tenth of Bagayādish (11 November 522 BC).
Following Bardiya’s death, Babylon rose in revolt under the leadership of Nebuchadnezzar III, a priest from the temple of Zazakku. Alarmed by Darius's departure from the pluralistic policies of Cyrus and Cambyses—particularly his imposition of Zoroastrian orthodoxy—Nebuchadnezzar III attempted to re-establish an independent Babylonian monarchy. His forces seized control of Babylon, Borsippa, Sippar, and Uruk.
Darius crossed the Tigris River on 23 Āçiyādiya (approx. 14 December 522 BC) and engaged the rebels near Zāzāna on the Euphrates. Five days later, he achieved a decisive victory. Nebuchadnezzar III fled to Babylon but was captured and executed, and the Babylonian priesthood was compelled to acknowledge Darius’s rule.
A year later, another rebellion flared in Babylonia, this time led by Arakha, a noble from Urartu (Armenia), who declared himself Nebuchadnezzar IV and falsely claimed descent from the former Babylonian king Nabonidus. According to the Behistun Inscription, Arakha launched his revolt in July 521 BC while Darius was in Media. He captured Sippar, Borsippa, Babylon, and Uruk. Although Sippar briefly submitted to Darius, Arakha reconquered the city soon after.
Darius dispatched his general Vidafarna (Greek: Intaphrenes) to suppress the revolt. On the 22nd of Markāsana (7 December 521 BC), Vidafarna captured and executed Arakha and impaled numerous Babylonian nobles who had supported him. With this brutal reprisal, Darius reasserted his control over Mesopotamia.
The Egyptian Revolt and the Libyan Campaign
While Darius was still engaged in suppressing revolts in Babylonia, Egypt also rose in rebellion. According to the Behistun Inscription, the satrap Aryandes—originally appointed by Cambyses—had declared independence and issued coinage in his own name. Herodotus states that Aryandes was later executed by Darius, possibly for aspiring to royal power.
Egyptian sources suggest that a nobleman named Petubastis III deposed Aryandes in 522 BC and proclaimed himself Pharaoh. Recognizing Egypt’s critical importance—its annual tribute to the Persian treasury amounted to some 200 talents of silver—Darius personally led an expedition to reconquer the satrapy. By 518 BC, the rebellion had been crushed and Aryandes was restored to power.
Aryandes soon embarked on a campaign westward into Cyrenaica, capturing the city of Cyrene (Korēnē), which had previously been contested by both Egyptians and Greeks. There, Aristippus, a disciple of Socrates, would later found the Cyrenaic school of philosophy in the 4th century BC.
The region had a complex political history. After Cambyses defeated Psamtik III of Egypt at the Battle of Pelusium in 525 BC, Arcesilaus III of Cyrene pledged loyalty to Persia and petitioned Cambyses to restore his royal powers, which had been curtailed by a constitutional reformer named Demonax. Demonax had instituted a council and reduced the king’s authority, distributing royal lands to the people in a system later recorded in the Vendidad.
Cambyses reinstated Arcesilaus’s autocracy, but this act provoked unrest. When Petubastis rose against Aryandes in Egypt, the people of Cyrene also revolted and expelled Arcesilaus. He fled to Samos, raised an army, and returned to power with Persian support—only to face renewed rebellion. Eventually, he and his father-in-law, King Althaeus of Barka (modern Barqa), were killed.
Queen Pheretima, Arcesilaus’s mother, fled to Egypt and appealed to Aryandes. He dispatched a force under his general Badyrah and a commander named Amasis (possibly the son of Psamtik III, though Herodotus suggests he was Persian). The Persians captured Barka, and the Cyrenaean nobility was punished severely: the men were enslaved and sent to Bactria, and the women were mutilated. The Persians built a city named Barka in Bactria to house these exiles. Battus IV, grandson of Pheretima, was installed as a Persian puppet king.
Aryandes' Second Revolt and the Apis Cult
In 496 BC, Aryandes rebelled again. According to Polyaenus, Darius himself traveled to Memphis to suppress the revolt. This coincided with the death of the sacred Apis bull, a central symbol of Egyptian religious life. Darius attended its burial in Memphis on 18 November 518 BC and offered a reward for the discovery of a new Apis, showing sensitivity to local tradition—despite his Zoroastrian background. (Tuplin has suggested that this bull may have died later, though the inscriptional and archaeological evidence remains contested.)
Though Aryandes had been restored by Darius earlier, this second act of defiance was not tolerated. Herodotus reports that he was executed, perhaps for once again minting coinage independently or challenging Darius’s religious policies.
Nevertheless, Darius increasingly sought to accommodate Egyptian religious traditions. He made offerings to Neith at Sais and to Osiris at Busiris, and he commissioned the restoration of the temple of Amun at Hibis in the Kharga Oasis—possibly building upon earlier work initiated under Psamtik II.
Significantly, Darius also instructed Egyptian priests to codify the ancient legal and religious texts—an initiative that reflects both his imperial administrative agenda and a growing flexibility in his religious stance. His earlier Zoroastrian exclusivism gave way to a pragmatic religious pluralism, more in line with the traditions of Cyrus the Great.
The Canal of Darius and the Suez Precursor
Among Darius’s most enduring achievements in Egypt was the construction of a canal linking the Nile to the Red Sea, a precursor to the modern Suez Canal. An inscription discovered by Charles de Lesseps in 1866, located approximately 130 kilometers from Suez, attests to this achievement. The trilingual inscription—written in Old Persian, Elamite, and Egyptian—bears the following:
“I am Darius the Great, King of Kings, King of all nations, son of Hystaspes, an Achaemenid. I ordered the excavation of this canal from the river called Pirawa [Nile], known in Egypt as Danu [flowing], to the sea that reaches Persia. When this canal was dug as I commanded, ships went from Egypt to Persia, as was my will.”
This inscription reflects Darius’s vision of connecting the empire through infrastructure, commerce, and symbolic unity. Despite the religious upheavals that marked the early years of his reign, Darius increasingly presented himself as a cosmopolitan ruler in the tradition of Cyrus—one who blended ideological ambition with pragmatic governance.
The Persian Revolts and the Fall of Oroetes, Satrap of Sardis
In the wake of Darius’s violent seizure of power and the execution of Bardiya in 522 BC, internal opposition to his rule continued to surface across the empire. Particularly notable was the revolt of the Persians themselves, as well as the defiance of Oroetes (Greek: Ὀροίτης), the powerful satrap of Sardis.
The Revolt of Vahyazdāta and Persian Dissent
Among the most consequential rebellions was that led by a Persian noble named Vahyazdāta (Old Persian: 𐎻𐎹𐏀𐎭𐎫; rendered in some sources as Veh-Yazdatta). As recorded in Darius’s Behistun Inscription, Vahyazdāta declared himself to be Bardiya, son of Cyrus, and was thus the second impostor to challenge Darius’s claim to the throne in the name of the legitimate Achaemenid line. He proclaimed himself king in Pārsa (Persis), mustering significant local support.
This rebellion—rising from the very heartland of the Achaemenid Empire—reveals that Darius’s legitimacy was deeply contested even among the Persians. Vahyazdāta’s ability to rally support among Iranian nobility and partisans of the House of Cyrus indicates the lingering influence of Bardiyan and Mithraic sympathies among the elites.
In response, Darius dispatched his general Artavardiya (Greek: Artabardes), who initially defeated Vahyazdāta’s forces. Yet the rebel leader was able to regroup and expand his insurrection into Arachosia (modern-day Sistan). There, Darius’s satraps—Vivāna of Arachosia and Dādarši of Bactria—mobilized quickly. By the end of July 521 BC, Vahyazdāta was decisively defeated, captured near the future site of Persepolis, and executed.
Darius’s swift suppression of this revolt owed much to his military organization and the loyalty of key satraps and generals. His father, Vištāspa (Hystaspes), played a crucial role in the suppression of revolts in Parthia and Hyrcania. Four of the original seven conspirators who had helped Darius assassinate Bardiya in 522 BC—Intaphernes, Hydarnes, Gobryas, and Otanes—were also instrumental in restoring order. Intaphernes crushed the remnants of Arakha’s rebellion in Babylon (December 521); Hydarnes subdued the Median revolt led by Phraortes (February 521); Gobryas was deployed against the renewed Elamite uprising (520); and Otanes led the Persian campaign to recapture Samos, according to Herodotus (3.141–149).
Oroetes, Satrap of Sardis: Rebellion and Assassination
While Darius fought to suppress widespread revolts in the eastern and central provinces, a crisis unfolded in the west. Oroetes (Old Persian: Arvatas; Greek: Ὀροίτης), the powerful satrap of Lydia, appointed by Cyrus the Great, refused to recognize Darius's authority. During Cambyses’ reign, Oroetes had risen to prominence by engineering the assassination of Polycrates, the tyrant of Samos, who had attempted to extricate the Greek city from Persian control.
According to Herodotus, Oroetes made no effort to resist the usurpation of Bardiya (whom Herodotus calls the Magus), and during this period of instability, he defied the Persian royal house by executing Mitrobates (Mehrpāt), the satrap of Daskyleion (Hdt. 3.126). When Darius sent an envoy with orders for Oroetes, the satrap contemptuously had the messenger killed. This defiance is believed to have taken place in early 521 BC, while Darius was still in Ecbatana and embroiled in multiple military campaigns.
Darius had instructed Oroetes to march his troops eastward, across the Halys River, to aid in the campaign against the Median and Armenian revolts. Oroetes not only disobeyed but openly challenged Darius’s authority, possibly hoping the new king would be unable to spare forces to subdue him.
Instead, Darius turned to cunning. Unable to deploy a field army, he summoned thirty elite Persian officers and asked for a volunteer to assassinate the rebel satrap. The task fell to Bagaeus, one of Darius’s trusted aides, who devised an ingenious ruse. Upon arriving in Sardis, Bagaeus presented a series of sealed royal edicts to Oroetes’ guards and read them aloud. After observing their reverent response to each successive command, he finally read a final order: "King Darius commands the Persians in Sardis to kill Oroetes." The guards obeyed without hesitation. Oroetes was executed on the spot, and his possessions were distributed among the soldiers.
This episode, recounted in Herodotus (3.127–128), illustrates both the fragility of satrapal loyalty and the enduring power of royal command under the Achaemenid system. Though Oroetes had assumed his status and security were guaranteed by his appointment under Cyrus, the moral authority of the central throne ultimately superseded personal ambition.
Reflections on Unity and Resistance
The story of Vahyazdāta’s revolt and the fate of Oroetes speak to deeper themes of legitimacy, continuity, and the contested identity of the early Achaemenid Empire. In the wake of Darius's forceful religious and political reforms, it is clear that many Persian nobles retained loyalties to Cyrus’s lineage and to the broader pluralistic and Mithraic traditions that Darius sought to uproot.
Yet the violent suppression of dissent also underscored the extraordinary effectiveness of the Persian imperial apparatus. Through a combination of strategic appointments, personal alliances, and decisive use of force, Darius managed to reassert his authority across the empire’s vast and fractured territories. It was not without cost, but the triumph of Darius’s kingship marked the beginning of an imperial consolidation that would reshape the religious, political, and administrative landscape of the Near East for generations to come.
Darius, Atossa, and the Western Ambitions of Empire
Historical evidence suggests that Cyrus the Great envisioned a grand imperial integration of West Asia, North Africa, and parts of Europe. Cambyses' conquest of Egypt appears to have been a continuation of this geostrategic vision. According to Herodotus, it was Atossa—daughter of Cyrus, sister of Cambyses, and now queen consort of Darius—who urged the continuation of Cyrus’s dream, particularly in securing Persian dominion over the Aegean world. Herodotus’s account reflects Atossa’s active influence in shaping imperial objectives, and her insistence on the Aegean conquest seems to have been a direct attempt to fulfill her father's uncompleted aspirations.
Democedes and the Aegean Expedition
Darius ultimately aligned himself with Atossa's views, and in a moment of both diplomatic and strategic curiosity, shared his intentions with his Greek physician Democedes (Greek: Δημοκήδης). A native of Croton in southern Italy, Democedes had been taken captive and brought to Susa after the defeat of Polycrates of Samos by Oroetes (the satrap of Lydia under Cambyses). When Darius suffered a severe injury to his foot, Democedes succeeded where the court physicians had failed, curing the king and earning a place of great favor—so much so that he dined at the king’s own table.
Darius entrusted Democedes with a mission of reconnaissance. He was to accompany fifteen Persian officers aboard three Phoenician ships and collect intelligence on the Greek cities of the Aegean. The mission proceeded smoothly until the fleet reached Tarentum (modern Taranto), where Democedes confided his story to the local ruler. Seizing the opportunity to score a diplomatic victory over Persia, the Tarentine king detained the Persian officers and seized their ships. Democedes escaped to his homeland in Magna Graecia, and only after his successful flight were the Persian emissaries released and permitted to return.
The Scythian Campaign and the Black Sea Frontier
Darius’s broader ambition, encouraged by Atossa, was to establish a unified imperial realm stretching from the Indus to the Danube and across to North Africa. According to Herodotus, it was Darius himself who first conceived of punishing the Scythians for past incursions, though Atossa may have preferred a campaign into European Greece. The story recounted by the Roman historian Justin, in which the Scythian king Idanthyrsus (Greek: Ιδανθυρσος) refused Darius’s proposal to marry his daughter, is likely a mythological embellishment.
Having completed the conquest of the Indus valley by 518 BC, Darius turned his attention to the northern Black Sea. Ctesias records that he ordered Ariaramnes, the satrap of Cappadocia, to launch a naval assault against the Scythians. With a fleet of fifty-oared ships (pentēres), Ariaramnes captured prisoners, including the brother of the Scythian king, Marsagetes. This act provoked a letter of protest from the Scythian ruler Scytharbes, to which Darius responded defiantly.
The Scythians, whom Darius referred to in his Behistun inscription as Saka Tigrakhauda (“Saka beyond the sea”), were an Eastern Iranian-speaking, nomadic people inhabiting the steppes north of the Caspian. Despite their extensive trading links with Iran, India, and China, their non-urban way of life and resistance to imperial control posed persistent difficulties to Persian ambitions in Central Asia.
Darius assembled an immense army, which Herodotus—almost certainly exaggerating—estimates at 700,000 soldiers and 600 ships. He summoned his vassals and allies across Asia Minor, the Aegean, and the Propontis, including cities such as Abydos, Lampsacus, Cyzicus, Byzantium, and Miletus. Among his allies was the Athenian aristocrat Miltiades, then the tyrant of Chersonesus in the Hellespont.
Having arrived in Chalcedon (across from modern-day Istanbul), Darius ordered the construction of a pontoon bridge across the Bosporus. His Greek allies were also instructed to build another bridge across the Danube to facilitate the overland invasion. As Darius advanced into Thrace—then a loose confederation of tribal territories—some cities submitted willingly, while others, like the Getae, offered stiff resistance.
Scythian Resistance and Strategic Withdrawal
Darius appointed his Greek naval commanders to guard the bridge over the Danube, while he led the land army deeper into the steppes. There, however, he encountered the Scythians’ elusive guerrilla tactics: mounted archers who refused direct engagement, striking and vanishing across vast terrain. Much like the later Parthians, the Scythians evaded capture while exhausting the Persian forces.
Herodotus recounts how the Scythians offered the Greek commanders bribes to abandon their post and trap Darius in Scythia. However, the Greek autocrats—loyal to the Persian king who had granted them their power—refused. From a Greek perspective, Herodotus comments, their allegiance was rooted in political survival: if Darius fell, so would their authority.
According to Ctesias, Darius and the Scythian king eventually staged a symbolic duel, firing arrows at one another in ritual fashion. When Darius realized the superiority of the Scythian archers, he chose to retreat, burning down homes and temples in Chalcedon—whose inhabitants had tried to destroy the bridges—and a shrine he had erected to Zeus Diabatros (possibly a syncretic form of Ahura Mazda).
Consolidation in Thrace and the Bosporus
Darius retreated via Thrace to Sestos and sailed back to Asia, leaving his general Megabazus in charge of European operations. Megabazus quickly subdued Thrace, integrating its fertile lands and strategic river valleys into the empire. He deported Paeonian tribes from Macedonia to Anatolia, effectively asserting Persian control over key territories between the Danube and the Aegean.
Another general, Otanes, was assigned control of the coastal regions. Before departing Sardis in 510 BC, he captured Byzantium, Chalcedon, and other crucial cities including Antandros in the Troad and the islands of Lemnos and Imbros.
Thrace, with its rich natural resources—including silver mines on Mount Pangaion and abundant shipbuilding timber—proved vital to Persian expansion. Darius rewarded Histiaeus of Miletus with the territory of Myrcinus in Thrace as a token of his loyalty. But Megabazus soon warned the king of Histiaeus’s growing influence, citing the area’s wealth and strategic potential. Darius responded by recalling Histiaeus to Susa and appointing him as a royal advisor and table companion, thereby neutralizing a potential rival under the guise of honor.
Darius and the Athenian Challenge in Hellas
Athenian Crisis and Solonian Reform
πρόσθεν δὲ δουλευουσα, νῦν ἐλευθέρα.
"Many of the land’s boundary markers I removed,
Once she was enslaved, but now she is free."
Peisistratus and the Rise of Tyranny
From Oligarchy to Enlightened Tyranny
The Fall of the Peisistratid Tyranny
By the late 7th century BCE, Athens faced a profound social and economic crisis. The system of land inheritance—whereby estates were subdivided among successive generations—had, over time, reduced many farms to unsustainable plots. During years of famine or pestilence, the agrarian poor, unable to produce sufficient food, were often forced to abandon their land. Many became laborers on the estates of wealthier landowners or, when debts became insurmountable, were sold into slavery. The result was an accelerating concentration of land ownership and the marginalization of the peasant class.
In 594 BCE, with civil unrest reaching a critical point, Athenian citizens turned to Solon, a respected statesman and poet, to draft new laws aimed at averting revolution. Solon's reforms sought a middle path between the demands of the wealthy to preserve their property and the grievances of the poor, who demanded redistribution. His reforms, later described by Aristotle as seisachtheia—"the shaking off of burdens"—included the cancellation of debts, the prohibition of debt-slavery, and the liberation of enslaved citizens. In a celebratory poem, Solon wrote:
ὅρους ἀνεῖλον πολλαχῇ πεπηγότας,
Solon also introduced a new classification of citizens based on agricultural production measured in medimnoi (roughly 52–71 kg, depending on the region). His four-tiered hierarchy included:
Pentakosiomedimnoi (500-medimnoi men): Eligible for the highest offices.
Hippeis (horsemen): With incomes over 300 medimnoi.
Zeugitai (yoke-men): Owning enough land to produce 200 medimnoi—often hoplite-class farmers.
Thetes: Laborers earning less than 200 medimnoi, excluded from holding office but allowed to participate in the assembly (ekklesia).
Though some scholars credit Solon with establishing the boule (Council of 400), which set the agenda for the assembly, others place its creation later.
Despite Solon’s efforts, his reforms ultimately failed to bring lasting peace. The aristocracy remained dissatisfied, believing Solon had gone too far, while the poorer classes felt the reforms were cosmetic, failing to address the structural imbalance of power and land ownership.
Amid this continued instability, a shrewd nobleman from the countryside named Peisistratus seized power with popular support, likely around 546 BCE—just one year before Cyrus the Great conquered Lydia. Although he had been exiled multiple times, Peisistratus returned with rural and lower-class backing, establishing himself as a tyrannos (a non-hereditary ruler who seized power by force).
Peisistratus governed with a blend of authoritarian control and populist policies. Despite his despotism, Athens prospered during his reign. The consolidation of the Persian Empire under Cyrus had opened up vast new markets and stabilized trade routes, especially in Ionia, where Persian dominance eliminated decades of inter-polis conflict. Peisistratus capitalized on this geopolitical shift by promoting the cultivation of long-term, high-demand crops—particularly olives. He offered loans to farmers to plant olive trees, confident that Persian rule had made commercial agriculture a viable, stable investment.
Before the Persian unification of the Near East, Aegean commerce had been too unstable for such long-term ventures. But now, a vast, peaceful empire neighbored Attica, providing Athens with enormous export opportunities. Olive oil and wine became key commodities, and the city's wealth surged. Peisistratus reinvested this surplus into public works, including temples to Olympian Zeus, Apollo Pythios, and the Twelve Olympians, and civic infrastructure such as aqueducts to supply Athens with clean water. Athens also became a hub for industries like pottery and oil-pressing, both critical for storing and transporting its agricultural exports.
Prior to Peisistratus's seizure of power, Athens had been governed by an oligarchy composed of aristocratic families. Peisistratus, himself from a noble house, rose by manipulating inter-elite rivalries and mobilizing discontented rural populations. According to Herodotus, many nobles—including the influential Alcmaeonid family—were exiled during his rule.
However, Aristotle presents a more nuanced portrait in his Athenian Constitution. He argues that Peisistratus ruled moderately, aiming not to abolish the existing laws but to govern through them. He reportedly treated the citizenry with leniency, lent money to the poor, and preserved the institutions of the city. His reign, Aristotle notes, was remembered by some as a “golden age,” a time of peace and justice likened to the mythical rule of Kronos.
Peisistratus died in 527 BCE, five years before Darius ascended the Persian throne. He was succeeded by his sons, Hippias and Hipparchus, with the former assuming de facto control. Hippias proved to be more austere and politically capable, while Hipparchus was known for his indulgence in art, poetry, and luxury. He attracted renowned poets such as Anacreon and Simonides to Athens.
In 514 BCE, Hipparchus was assassinated by Harmodius and Aristogeiton, two lovers whose motive, according to later tradition, was personal rather than political. Nevertheless, the Athenians later venerated them as tyrannicides (tyrannoctonoi), erecting statues in their honor in the Agora. Thucydides notes, however, that their plot targeted Hippias but only succeeded in killing Hipparchus.
In the aftermath, Hippias's rule became increasingly repressive. According to Aristotle, paranoia and vengefulness consumed the regime:
“From that time forward the tyranny became much more severe; the executions, exiles, and suspicion poisoned the governance of Hippias.”
The exiled Alcmaeonids continued to plot the overthrow of the tyranny, ultimately proving more effective than the dramatic heroism of Harmodius and Aristogeiton. Herodotus reflects:
“In my opinion, it was the Alcmaeonids who truly liberated Athens. The assassination of Hipparchus only inflamed the remaining tyrants. It was the political and military efforts of the Alcmaeonid family that broke their power.”
Athenian Crisis and Solonian Reform
πρόσθεν δὲ δουλευουσα, νῦν ἐλευθέρα.
"Many of the land’s boundary markers I removed,
Once she was enslaved, but now she is free."
Peisistratus and the Rise of Tyranny
From Oligarchy to Enlightened Tyranny
The Fall of the Peisistratid Tyranny
By the late 7th century BCE, Athens faced a profound social and economic crisis. The system of land inheritance—whereby estates were subdivided among successive generations—had, over time, reduced many farms to unsustainable plots. During years of famine or pestilence, the agrarian poor, unable to produce sufficient food, were often forced to abandon their land. Many became laborers on the estates of wealthier landowners or, when debts became insurmountable, were sold into slavery. The result was an accelerating concentration of land ownership and the marginalization of the peasant class.
In 594 BCE, with civil unrest reaching a critical point, Athenian citizens turned to Solon, a respected statesman and poet, to draft new laws aimed at averting revolution. Solon's reforms sought a middle path between the demands of the wealthy to preserve their property and the grievances of the poor, who demanded redistribution. His reforms, later described by Aristotle as seisachtheia—"the shaking off of burdens"—included the cancellation of debts, the prohibition of debt-slavery, and the liberation of enslaved citizens. In a celebratory poem, Solon wrote:
ὅρους ἀνεῖλον πολλαχῇ πεπηγότας,
Solon also introduced a new classification of citizens based on agricultural production measured in medimnoi (roughly 52–71 kg, depending on the region). His four-tiered hierarchy included:
Pentakosiomedimnoi (500-medimnoi men): Eligible for the highest offices.
Hippeis (horsemen): With incomes over 300 medimnoi.
Zeugitai (yoke-men): Owning enough land to produce 200 medimnoi—often hoplite-class farmers.
Thetes: Laborers earning less than 200 medimnoi, excluded from holding office but allowed to participate in the assembly (ekklesia).
Though some scholars credit Solon with establishing the boule (Council of 400), which set the agenda for the assembly, others place its creation later.
Despite Solon’s efforts, his reforms ultimately failed to bring lasting peace. The aristocracy remained dissatisfied, believing Solon had gone too far, while the poorer classes felt the reforms were cosmetic, failing to address the structural imbalance of power and land ownership.
Amid this continued instability, a shrewd nobleman from the countryside named Peisistratus seized power with popular support, likely around 546 BCE—just one year before Cyrus the Great conquered Lydia. Although he had been exiled multiple times, Peisistratus returned with rural and lower-class backing, establishing himself as a tyrannos (a non-hereditary ruler who seized power by force).
Peisistratus governed with a blend of authoritarian control and populist policies. Despite his despotism, Athens prospered during his reign. The consolidation of the Persian Empire under Cyrus had opened up vast new markets and stabilized trade routes, especially in Ionia, where Persian dominance eliminated decades of inter-polis conflict. Peisistratus capitalized on this geopolitical shift by promoting the cultivation of long-term, high-demand crops—particularly olives. He offered loans to farmers to plant olive trees, confident that Persian rule had made commercial agriculture a viable, stable investment.
Before the Persian unification of the Near East, Aegean commerce had been too unstable for such long-term ventures. But now, a vast, peaceful empire neighbored Attica, providing Athens with enormous export opportunities. Olive oil and wine became key commodities, and the city's wealth surged. Peisistratus reinvested this surplus into public works, including temples to Olympian Zeus, Apollo Pythios, and the Twelve Olympians, and civic infrastructure such as aqueducts to supply Athens with clean water. Athens also became a hub for industries like pottery and oil-pressing, both critical for storing and transporting its agricultural exports.
Prior to Peisistratus's seizure of power, Athens had been governed by an oligarchy composed of aristocratic families. Peisistratus, himself from a noble house, rose by manipulating inter-elite rivalries and mobilizing discontented rural populations. According to Herodotus, many nobles—including the influential Alcmaeonid family—were exiled during his rule.
However, Aristotle presents a more nuanced portrait in his Athenian Constitution. He argues that Peisistratus ruled moderately, aiming not to abolish the existing laws but to govern through them. He reportedly treated the citizenry with leniency, lent money to the poor, and preserved the institutions of the city. His reign, Aristotle notes, was remembered by some as a “golden age,” a time of peace and justice likened to the mythical rule of Kronos.
Peisistratus died in 527 BCE, five years before Darius ascended the Persian throne. He was succeeded by his sons, Hippias and Hipparchus, with the former assuming de facto control. Hippias proved to be more austere and politically capable, while Hipparchus was known for his indulgence in art, poetry, and luxury. He attracted renowned poets such as Anacreon and Simonides to Athens.
In 514 BCE, Hipparchus was assassinated by Harmodius and Aristogeiton, two lovers whose motive, according to later tradition, was personal rather than political. Nevertheless, the Athenians later venerated them as tyrannicides (tyrannoctonoi), erecting statues in their honor in the Agora. Thucydides notes, however, that their plot targeted Hippias but only succeeded in killing Hipparchus.
In the aftermath, Hippias's rule became increasingly repressive. According to Aristotle, paranoia and vengefulness consumed the regime:
“From that time forward the tyranny became much more severe; the executions, exiles, and suspicion poisoned the governance of Hippias.”
The exiled Alcmaeonids continued to plot the overthrow of the tyranny, ultimately proving more effective than the dramatic heroism of Harmodius and Aristogeiton. Herodotus reflects:
“In my opinion, it was the Alcmaeonids who truly liberated Athens. The assassination of Hipparchus only inflamed the remaining tyrants. It was the political and military efforts of the Alcmaeonid family that broke their power.”
The Athenian Tyrant Hippias Seeks Refuge in the Court of Darius at Susa
Following years of internal strife, Cleisthenes of the Alcmaeonid family succeeded in rallying support from Sparta, with the crucial aid of the oracle at Delphi—bribed, according to Herodotus, to issue favorable responses on his behalf. Sparta, as a diarchy, was ruled jointly by two kings, one from each of the Agiad and Eurypontid houses. King Cleomenes I of the Agiad line ultimately led the Spartan intervention and expelled the Athenian tyrant Hippias (also called Epae) in 510 BCE.
Hippias fled to Sardis, where he was received by Artaphernes, the satrap of Lydia and half-brother of King Darius I. Artaphernes had been appointed to govern the western provinces of the empire, including the strategic coastline of Asia Minor. From there, Hippias eventually traveled east and sought asylum at the royal court of Darius in Susa, hoping that the Achaemenid king would support his restoration in Athens. Many aristocrats in Athens still favored his return, believing it would preserve their privileges under a centralized regime backed by Persia.
Demaratus and Persian Sympathies in Sparta
Hippias was not the only Greek noble to seek protection at the Persian court. Demaratus, the Eurypontid co-king of Sparta and a rival of Cleomenes, also sympathized with Persian power. He frequently opposed Cleomenes' policies and was eventually forced into exile. Demaratus later fled to Xerxes I at Susa and accompanied the Persian king during his campaign against Greece in the Second Persian War.
The Cleisthenes–Isagoras Rivalry and Spartan Intrusion
Following the expulsion of Hippias, Athens quickly fell into a power struggle between two rival factions. One was led by Isagoras, a member of the oligarchic elite whom Aristotle called a "friend of tyrants" (philos tōn tyrannōn), and a supporter of Hippias. The other was led by Cleisthenes, whose family had suffered exile under the Peisistratid tyranny.
Isagoras initially prevailed and was elected archon in 508 BCE. Cleisthenes responded by rallying the support of the dēmos—the common people—and reorganizing the structure of Athenian political power. He introduced democratic reforms, expanded citizenship rights (excluding women and slaves), and laid the foundations for the Athenian politeia (constitution). As his influence grew, Cleisthenes sought to marginalize Isagoras and the oligarchic elite.
In response, Isagoras appealed to King Cleomenes of Sparta. Spartan troops entered Athens, expelled Cleisthenes, and exiled 700 families, many of whom belonged to the Alcmaeonid faction. Isagoras attempted to dismantle the newly formed popular government (dēmos), but his efforts were short-lived.
Athens Appeals to Persia
Amid these internal upheavals, Athens took the unprecedented step of sending envoys to Artaphernes in Sardis to request Persian assistance. According to Herodotus:
"When the envoys arrived in Sardis and delivered their message, Artaphernes, son of Hystaspes and governor of Sardis, asked: 'Who are you, and where do you dwell, that you seek alliance with the Persians?' When the envoys responded, he told them that if they wished to form an alliance with King Darius, they must offer him earth and water as tokens of submission."
Herodotus implies that the Athenian envoys—most likely from the Alcmaeonid faction—accepted Artaphernes' terms, thus symbolically placing Athens under Persian suzerainty. While major modern historians such as Amélie Kuhrt, Wiesehöfer, and Lazenby emphasize the significance of this act, many nationalist or traditionalist Iranian scholars, including those influenced by the legacy of Ehsan Yarshater, downplay or ignore the episode due to its implications for Iranian-Greek relations.
The Mystery of Marathon and the Alcmaeonid Cipher
Later, during the Battle of Marathon, Herodotus records an enigmatic rumor that members of the Alcmaeonid family may have signaled the Persians using shields as reflective devices, potentially to assist in coordinating an attack or facilitating a landing. While speculative, this tale adds a layer of intrigue to the complex relationship between the Alcmaeonids and Persia—particularly given their earlier submission of "earth and water."
Spartan Confusion and the Persian Ultimatum
Following the failed Isagoras episode, Spartan forces under Cleomenes launched a broader campaign against Athens, advancing through Eleusis and Boeotia, while Chalcidian forces attacked from the north. Athens seemed surrounded on all fronts. Yet, at the critical moment, the Spartans abruptly withdrew. Herodotus notes that:
"First the Corinthians, and then King Demaratus of Sparta, withdrew their support, halting the invasion."
Herodotus offers no definitive explanation for this unexpected reversal, but the evidence suggests that a warning or diplomatic ultimatum from Artaphernes may have reached the Spartan command. If Athens had submitted its “earth and water” to Darius, any Spartan attack on the city could be interpreted as aggression against Persian territory.
This episode marks a turning point in Athenian-Persian relations, revealing both the ambitions of the Achaemenid Empire and the fragile allegiances of the Greek city-states at the dawn of the classical era.
The Ionian Revolts and the Prelude to War with Hellas
Centuries before Cyrus the Great conquered Lydia and Ionia, waves of Hellenic migrants had settled along the western coast of Asia Minor, establishing vibrant Ionian city-states near the lands of Lydia and Caria. Following a military victory against Caria, these cities formed the Koinon Iōnōn (κοινὸν Ἰώνων), the League of the Ionians. Herodotus recounts that this alliance gathered annually at the sacred Panionion to celebrate the Panionia festival, reaffirming their shared identity despite political divisions.
As detailed in earlier chapters, when Cyrus overthrew Croesus and conquered Lydia in 547 BC, the Ionian cities—once part of Croesus’ dominion—became incorporated into the newly formed Persian satrapy of Sparda. The Ionians sent envoys to Cyrus seeking favorable terms, but he rebuffed them, accepting only Miletus into alliance and forcibly annexing the remaining cities.
Despite their shared linguistic heritage, significant cultural and political differences had emerged between the Ionians of Asia and the mainland Hellenes of Hellas. Whereas the Athenians prided themselves on their austere civic values, they increasingly scorned the Ionians, who had, over generations of foreign domination—first by the Cimmerians, then Lydians, and now Persians—embraced a life of luxury, opulence, and what many mainland Greeks considered effeminacy. As Athenaeus of Naucratis recounts, citing Xenophanes, the Ionians paraded about in elaborate garments, perfumed oils, and extravagant hairstyles, evoking the aesthetic excesses of their Lydian past.
Nonetheless, many Athenians still acknowledged their Ionian roots. The cultural refinement and civic sophistication of the Ionian cities in the sixth century BC were widely recognized. Some Athenian elites even claimed that Athens itself was an Ionian city, and indeed Athens held one of only two Ionian votes in the Delphic Amphictyony. Yet after the fall of Ionia to the Persians, these once-proud cities became, in the eyes of the Hellenes, subjects of a foreign yoke. Their political subjugation and shifting allegiances raised alarm in Hellas, where it was increasingly feared that Persian influence would soon extend beyond the Aegean into Europe.
During Darius’s reign, the Ionian cities—known in his Bisitun inscription as Yaunā—formed a tax district within the Persian administrative system, grouped with neighboring regions such as Caria, Aeolia, Pamphylia, Lycia, and Magnesia. Yet the region was politically unstable. The Ionian poleis, fractious by nature and prone to internecine warfare, threatened both the security and tax revenues of the empire’s western flank. To address this instability, Artaphernes, Darius’s brother and satrap of Sardis, convened the region’s nobles around 500 BC to enforce a treaty forbidding mutual hostilities. He aimed to create a stable buffer zone that would allow Persia to better secure its Aegean holdings and prepare for further expansion.
At the same time, Megabazus—Darius’s seasoned general who had successfully conquered Thrace and brought Macedonia under Persian rule—grew suspicious of Histiaeus, the wily and ambitious tyrant of Miletus. Despite Histiaeus’s prior loyalty to Darius during the Scythian campaign, Megabazus warned that his ambitions posed a threat to imperial unity. Acting on this counsel, Darius summoned Histiaeus to Susa, offering him an honorable advisory post but removing him from direct control of Miletus. At Histiaeus’s recommendation, his nephew Aristagoras was appointed governor of Miletus in his stead.
In 499 BC, Aristagoras sought to expand his power by capturing the island of Naxos, which had expelled its aristocrats during an internal revolt. Aristagoras, allied with the exiled Naxian nobles, proposed an ambitious plan to Artaphernes: if Persia aided in subduing Naxos, it would pave the way for the conquest of the Cyclades and ultimately the key island of Euboea. Artaphernes approved the plan and assembled a fleet under the command of Megabates, a cousin of Darius.
However, the campaign quickly unraveled. Aristagoras underestimated Megabates’s authority and competence, and tensions arose between the two commanders. After a failed siege and retreat from Naxos, Aristagoras found himself politically vulnerable. Fearing punishment from Darius, he turned to rebellion. Encouraged—perhaps even manipulated—by his exiled uncle Histiaeus, he incited the Ionian cities to revolt, urging them to expel their Persian-appointed rulers.
Herodotus recounts the dramatic tale of Histiaeus tattooing a secret message on the scalp of a slave, whose hair regrew to conceal the message until he could reach Aristagoras. Though likely apocryphal, the story captures the sense of subterfuge and unrest that defined this moment.
Seeking allies, Aristagoras traveled to Sparta to plead for aid from King Cleomenes. But when Cleomenes learned the Persian capital lay over three months’ march from the coast, he declined. Aristagoras then turned to Athens. Motivated by both ideological opposition to tyranny and fear of Persian expansion into Europe, the Athenians agreed to assist. They sent twenty triremes, joined by five from Eretria. It was a modest force, but symbolically profound: the Athenians had now openly defied the Persian Empire, and the path to open war had begun.
The Burning of Sardis
In the spring of 499 BC, the Ionian Revolt escalated into open warfare. A combined fleet of Ionian rebels and their allies from Athens and Eretria set sail for the western coast of Asia Minor. Their destination was Ephesus, the ancient Ionian city near the mouth of the Kaistros River. Upon arrival, the allied force disembarked at the port of Korēssia and began a rapid inland march along the riverbed, advancing toward the administrative heart of the Persian Empire in the West—Sardis.
At the time, the Persian satrap Artaphernes had neither anticipated such a direct assault nor stationed a sufficient garrison to defend the outer city. The element of surprise allowed the Greek force to penetrate deep into the lower quarters of Sardis, even threatening the outer perimeter of the acropolis, where Artaphernes had taken refuge.
The Greek troops eventually met resistance near the fortified citadel. Despite their initial success, they were unable to breach its defenses. Frustrated and vulnerable, they set fire to the city’s lower quarters in a final act of defiance before retreating along their original route to Ephesus. The fire spread uncontrollably, consuming much of Sardis—including its wooden structures and sacred temples. Herodotus notes that the Temple of Cybele, sacred to the Lydians, was among those destroyed, adding a deep spiritual offense to the military blow.
Artaphernes, having recovered from the initial shock and mustered his forces, quickly pursued the retreating Greeks. Near Ephesus, he caught the disorganized Ionian and Athenian troops and launched a brutal counterattack. Many were slaughtered in the ensuing chaos, including the Eretrian commander. Only a handful of survivors managed to escape and take refuge in nearby Ionian cities.
The symbolic weight of the attack, however, far exceeded its military outcome. The burning of Sardis—a major provincial capital of the Persian Empire—was not merely a rebellious skirmish; it was a direct violation of imperial sovereignty and a sacrilegious act in the eyes of the Achaemenids.
When word reached King Darius in Susa, his reaction was swift and mythically charged. Herodotus recounts the moment in evocative terms:
“When it was reported to Darius that the Athenians and Ionians had captured and set fire to Sardis, and that Aristagoras of Miletus had led the expedition, the king at first dismissed the Ionians, knowing they would not go unpunished. But then he asked, 'Who are these Athenians?' Upon hearing their name, he called for his bow. Taking an arrow, he notched it, and loosing it into the sky, he prayed aloud: ‘O Ahura Mazda, grant me vengeance upon the Athenians!’ Thereafter, he commanded one of his servants to repeat to him daily at dinner: ‘Master, remember the Athenians.’” (Herodotus, Histories 5.105)
Thus, the Athenians had crossed a threshold from distant allies of rebels to targets of imperial wrath. The attack on Sardis etched itself into the memory of the Persian king as an unforgivable offense. It was not merely a local rebellion; it was an international insult, and it planted the seeds of Darius’s desire for retribution. The Ionian Revolt, once a regional challenge, had now drawn the full attention—and vengeance—of the Great King.
The Widening Revolt and the Fall of Aristagoras
Despite his crushing defeat at Sardis and the heavy losses suffered by the Ionian coalition, Aristagoras found himself in a position where retreat was no longer an option. He knew that the wrath of Darius was inevitable and that his life would soon be forfeit unless he continued to expand the revolt against Persian authority. In desperation, he incited rebellion not only across Ionia but also in the strategically vital regions of Cyprus, Caria, Thrace, and Caunus.
Among the most serious of these uprisings was the revolt in Cyprus, led by Onesilus (Ὀνήσιλος), the king of Salamis. Cyprus, a crucial naval outpost established during Cambyses’ conquest of Egypt, held immense importance for the Persian Empire. Its defection threatened Persian maritime routes between the Aegean and Egypt and jeopardized the defensive integrity of Phoenicia. Aristagoras dispatched a portion of the Ionian fleet to aid the Cypriots. However, in 497 BC, Darius’s forces dealt a decisive blow to the Cypriot rebels, killing Onesilus in battle and extinguishing the island’s resistance.
In response to these widening revolts, Darius mobilized with seriousness. In 496 BC, he dispatched three of his sons-in-law—Daurises (Δαυρίσης), Hymaeus (Ὑμαίης), and Otanes (Ὀτάνης)—each commanding a Persian division, to crush the insurgency. Their targets included rebellious cities in Ionia, Caria, and the surrounding regions that had aligned with Aristagoras and the Milesians.
(Philological note: The names of these commanders offer rich Indo-Iranian etymologies. “Dauris” may derive from the Old Persian root daag, meaning “fire,” and ris, meaning “spear” or “wound,” possibly signifying a “fiery spear” or “spear of wrath.” “Hymaeus” may be linked to the Persian hima or Sanskrit himatvi, evoking brilliance, fire, or even celestial elements such as the moon and sun. Otanes is a well-attested Achaemenid name, meaning “well-built” or “resolute.”)
Daurises led his campaign northward to the Hellespont, where he swiftly retook five rebellious cities with minimal resistance. Meanwhile, Hymaeus advanced along the Propontis (Sea of Marmara) to consolidate Persian control of the coastal territories east of Daurises’s path. Upon learning of a major Carian rebellion, Daurises turned south toward Caria, requesting Hymaeus to take over operations along the Hellespont. Hymaeus complied, successfully recapturing several settlements, including Ilium (near the Troad), but died of illness shortly thereafter.
A third army under Otanes, advancing behind the others, joined forces with Artaphernes. Together they captured Clazomenae, an Ionian city renowned for olive oil production, and Kyme in Aeolia near Lydia—delivering a significant economic and symbolic blow to the rebels.
According to Herodotus:
“When news of the Persian approach reached the Carians before Daurises arrived, they gathered at the place called Lefkas Stelas (Λευκάς τε στήλας, ‘White Pillars’) near the Marsyas River. (...) The Carians fought a long and valiant battle against the Persian forces, but in the end were overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Nearly two thousand Persians perished, but ten thousand Carians fell.” (Herodotus, Histories 5.119)
Though bloodied, the Persian campaign rolled on. Daurises defeated the Carians at the River Marsyas (likely the Morsynus, a tributary of the Maeander), forcing Greek survivors to retreat to the sacred sanctuary of Labraunda. There, they debated whether to surrender to the Persians or flee west to Hellas. Before a decision could be made, Aristagoras arrived from Miletus with reinforcements. Yet even with these additional forces, the rebels suffered a second defeat at the hands of the Persians.
In 495 BC, the Carians regrouped and launched a bold ambush against a Persian column near the road to Pedasus. In this surprise attack, they killed three prominent Persian commanders—Daurises, Amorges (Ἀμόργης), and Sisimachus (Σισίμακος). While this inflicted a symbolic wound on the Achaemenid campaign, the broader Persian strategy remained unshaken. City after city continued to fall under their control as the rebellion steadily unraveled.
Now faced with the near-total collapse of the revolt and the resurgence of Persian dominance, Aristagoras’s position became untenable. Herodotus, never generous in his portrayal of Aristagoras, deemed him a coward and a weak leader. Realizing the futility of his efforts, Aristagoras abdicated leadership in Miletus and handed command to a philosopher and mathematician—Pythagoras the Geometer.
Abandoning the rebellion he had sparked, Aristagoras fled north to Thrace. There, he attempted to seize new territory and establish himself in the city of Myrkinos. But the Thracians, wary of Greek interlopers and exhausted by regional turmoil, soon rose against him. Aristagoras was killed, and with his death, the last hope for Ionian resistance began to fade.
The Final Revolt of Histiaeus and the Battle of Lade
At this critical juncture, King Darius, seeking to quell the Ionian revolt and restore order, decided to send Histiaeus back from Susa to Miletus. Histiaeus had promised that he could pacify the region, claiming—deceptively—that the burning of Sardis had stirred the Ionians only briefly and that he could restore calm. Yet, as Herodotus suggests, he had no intention of peace; rather, he sought to lead the revolt himself.
Upon arriving in Sardis, Histiaeus was received with suspicion by Artaphernes, the astute satrap of Lydia. According to Herodotus, Artaphernes confronted him with a pointed question: “Why do you think the Ionians have revolted?” Histiaeus feigned surprise and ignorance, replying: “I too am astonished by their rebellion.” But Artaphernes saw through him, saying bluntly:
“Histiaeus, you have made the shoe, and Aristagoras has put it on.”
(Herodotus, Histories 6.1)
Realizing that his deceit had been uncovered and that his arrest was imminent, Histiaeus fled Sardis and sought refuge on the island of Chios. At first, the Chians imprisoned him, uncertain of his intentions. Eventually, however, he persuaded them that he was their ally. To justify his prior role in the rebellion, he falsely claimed that Darius planned to resettle the Phoenicians in Ionia and the Ionians in Phoenicia—a fabrication meant to inflame anti-Persian sentiment. While Herodotus reports this as Histiaeus’s excuse, it is plausible that Darius may have considered such partial population transfers, as a means of diluting local power blocs and securing imperial control through demographic fragmentation.
In a renewed bid to spark rebellion, Histiaeus wrote letters to discontented Persian officers, urging them to overthrow Darius. However, his messenger—Hermippus of Atarneus (Ἑρμίππου τοῦ Ἀταρνίτεω)—was loyal to Persia and delivered the letter to Artaphernes instead. At the satrap’s instruction, Hermippus carried out a sting operation: he delivered the message to the conspirators, then reported their responses, leading to the exposure and execution of the plotters.
Undeterred, Histiaeus attempted to return to Miletus and reclaim power. But the Milesians, weary of tyranny and destabilization after the reckless rule of Aristagoras, rejected him. In a failed bid to seize the city by force, he was wounded and fled again to Chios. There, his welcome had worn thin; the Chians refused to supply him with ships.
Histiaeus next turned to Mytilene on the island of Lesbos, where the Lesbians furnished him with eight ships. He used these to sail to Byzantium, where he engaged in piracy, seizing merchant vessels sailing from Caria unless they submitted to his authority. His actions further alienated allies and deepened his infamy.
The Battle of Lade – Triumph of the Persian Navy (494 BC)
By 494 BC, Darius had resolved to bring an end to the Ionian insurrection. Artaphernes prepared a major land offensive against Miletus, while the Persian navy—commanding some 600 warships—sailed toward the islet of Lade (Λάδη), located off the coast of Miletus. (Due to siltation over the centuries, the islet of Lade has since fused with the mainland.)
The Persian army besieged Miletus, battering its fortifications with rams and storming its walls. The city fell under overwhelming force: many of its defenders were slain or deported, women and children were sold into slavery, and temples were destroyed. Archaeological evidence still bears traces of this destruction in the burned and shattered layers of the site.
At sea, the Ionian alliance mustered 353 ships, a formidable armada by any standard. Their naval line was as follows:
Milesians: 80 ships (eastern wing)
Prienians: 12 ships
Myusians: 3 ships
Teians: 17 ships
Chians: 100 ships
Erythraeans: 8 ships
Phocaeans: 3 ships
Lesbians: 70 ships
Samians: 60 ships (western wing)
As the Persian fleet neared Lade, their admiral sent envoys with an offer: any polis that abandoned the alliance would be spared the destruction of its city and temples. Some city-states, grasping the strategic reality that even a naval victory would only delay Persian retaliation, accepted the offer. The Samians, for instance, withdrew at a critical moment, causing chaos in the Ionian ranks. In the ensuing battle, the Persian navy crushed the Ionian fleet.
The defeat at Lade marked a turning point. The last hope for Ionian resistance collapsed. The Persian naval victory reasserted dominance over the Aegean coast and shattered the maritime power of the Ionian cities.
The Capture and Death of Histiaeus
Histiaeus, seizing upon the Ionian defeat as a new opportunity, launched a raid on Chios from his base in Byzantium, exploiting their weakened state after Lade. He then marched inland toward Thasos, commanding a coalition of Ionian and Aeolian troops. But the Persian response was swift. A fleet was dispatched against him, forcing Histiaeus to retreat to Lesbos.
With his forces starving and cut off from supplies, he sailed to Mysia (Μυσία) on the southern shore of the Hellespont, hoping to secure grain. There, at the plain of Malēnē (Μαλήνῃ), he was intercepted by the army of the Persian general Harpagus (Ἅρπαγος). In the ensuing cavalry assault, his forces were annihilated.
Attempting to flee, Histiaeus was captured. According to Herodotus, as he was seized, he cried out in Persian: “I am Histiaeus of Miletus!” (Πέρσῃ γλῶσσῃ: Ἱστιαῖος Μιλήσιος εἰμί!) His captors brought him to Artaphernes in Sardis.
Herodotus writes that had he been sent to Darius, the king would have spared him. But Artaphernes and Harpagus, convinced that Histiaeus would never cease his subversion if allowed to live, had him executed by impalement and embalmed his head. When Darius received the head in Susa, he was angered by their decision and chastised them. He ordered the head washed and buried with honor, as befitted a former friend of the king.
Darius’ Punishment of the Rebellious Ionian City-States
Following the decisive Persian naval victory at the Battle of Lade (494 BC), King Darius I set out to punish the rebellious Ionian city-states in earnest, prior to implementing any broader strategic operations. His first step was to reinstate Aiakes, the son of Silos, as governor of Samos—a position from which he had been ousted by Aristagoras. Aiakes had remained loyal to Persia and, according to Herodotus, had secretly persuaded the pro-Persian Samian faction to withdraw their naval contingent during the battle. In reward for this covert loyalty, the Persian admiral exempted Samos from punishment, as promised prior to the confrontation.
Persian forces subsequently invaded Caria, subjugated the region, and wintered in Miletus. In the spring of 493 BC, the campaign resumed with the reconquest of the Aegean islands of Chios, Lesbos, and Tenedos. The population of these islands faced harsh retribution: cities were sacked, temples destroyed, and many of the inhabitants were either sold into slavery or forcibly castrated.
Next, the Persian fleet advanced toward the Hellespont, targeting the European shore, including the Chersonese (modern Gallipoli), and key cities such as Perinthos, Selymbria, and Byzantium—already brought under Persian control in the campaigns of 497–496 BC. The Byzantines and Chalcedonians, anticipating Persian arrival, fled eastward to Mesembria on the Black Sea. The Phoenician fleet, sailing under Persian command, then torched the abandoned cities and continued south, destroying Proconnesus and Artace before returning to finish their conquest of the Chersonese. Cyzicus (Κύζικον) had already been secured by Horbar (Οἰβάρης), the son of Megabazus (Μεγαβάζου), in preparation for the arrival of Persian forces. With these actions, the Ionian revolt was fully quelled, and peace was restored across the western frontier of the Achaemenid Empire.
Darius’ Reorganization of Ionian Asia (Asian Greece)
With the revolt suppressed, Darius adopted a conciliatory and pragmatic strategy to stabilize the region. In 493 BC, his satrap in Sardis, Artaphernes, summoned representatives of the Ionian city-states and implemented a series of reforms aimed at long-term peace. He ordered the drafting of inter-city treaties to resolve mutual grievances and establish courts to arbitrate dōsidikoi (legal disputes). This effort may be considered one of the earliest instances of inter-polis arbitration and confederated legal organization in ancient history.
Artaphernes also introduced more precise land surveys, using the parasang as the standard unit of measure, and revised the tax assessments (savini) based on these updated measurements. According to Herodotus:
“And in that year, the Persians caused no further trouble to the Ionians. Rather, events occurred that were beneficial to them: Artaphernes, satrap of Sardis, summoned the Ionian envoys and compelled them to cease raiding and fighting one another and to resolve their differences through law and judgment.”
This reformist phase continued into 492 BC, when Darius appointed his son-in-law Mardonius (Μαρδόνιος), son of Gobryas (Γοβρύεω), to command a large military force in Asia Minor. Mardonius had married Darius’ daughter Artozostre (Ἀρτοζώστρην) and was now entrusted with a dual mission: to punish the Greek city-states of Athens and Eretria for aiding the Ionian rebels, and to reorganize the governance of Ionia itself.
Herodotus highlights a surprising dimension of Mardonius’ mission: he deposed the tyrants (tyrannoi) of the Ionian cities and instituted democratic governments (dēmokratiai). This was a startling move, given Persian autocracy, but it was likely a tactical decision to prevent further unrest by satisfying local sentiments. Herodotus notes:
“When Mardonius arrived in Ionia, he did a remarkable thing—one that should silence those Greeks who doubt that Otanes, one of the seven conspirators against the Magi, had genuinely argued for democracy in Persia: Mardonius removed all the Ionian tyrants and established democracy in their cities.”
This strategy proved effective. When Xerxes marched on Hellas in 480 BC, many Ionians followed him—evidence that Darius’ policy had successfully re-integrated them into the imperial fold.
Mardonius proceeded to the Hellespont with a vast fleet and army, subjugating parts of Thrace and even overthrowing the kingdom of Macedonia. However, disaster struck when his fleet, sailing near Mount Athos in the northern Aegean, was caught in a storm. Many ships were lost, forcing him to abandon his campaign against Athens—for the moment.
Heraclitus and Darius
During this same period, the philosopher Heraclitus of Ephesus, a city under Persian control, was also deeply engaged with the political upheavals of Ionia. Though born into a lineage reputed to have held the ceremonial title of “king” of the Ionians, Heraclitus abdicated this role in favor of his brother. He opposed both democracy and mob rule, instead advocating the authority of wise and noble individuals—a view reflected in his cryptic and profound philosophical writings, many of which were preserved in the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus.
Heraclitus was undoubtedly affected by the Persian destruction of Miletus, the massacre and enslavement of its people, and the desecration of the sanctuary of Didyma. In response, he wrote one of his most famous fragments:
“War is the father of all things, the king of all, who makes some gods, others men; some slaves, others free.”
This stark view echoed the reality of imperial power and the transitory nature of human status in the wake of conflict.
Despite his opposition to popular rule, Heraclitus supported justice and admired the wisdom of individuals like Hermodorus, a leading Ephesian statesman who was exiled by his city. Heraclitus bitterly condemned the citizens for this injustice, writing:
“The Ephesians deserve to hang themselves, every one of them, for having driven out Hermodorus, the best man among them, declaring: ‘Let no one of us be the best; if anyone is, let him be so elsewhere and among others.’”
Remarkably, among a corpus of letters—nine in total—attributed to Heraclitus and other contemporaries, one is purportedly from Darius himself. Though some modern historians have dismissed these as first-century forgeries, the tone and content of the Persian king’s letter are both plausible and revealing. Darius writes:
“Greetings from King Darius, son of Hystaspes, to Heraclitus of Ephesus, wise man.You have composed a treatise on nature—difficult to understand and interpret! Some passages, when read plainly, seem to touch upon universal truths guided by divine wisdom. I wish to share in your insights and Greek learning. Come to me swiftly to my palace, for the Greeks often fail to honor their sages. At my court, you shall enjoy all honors, daily discourse, and a life of noble reputation founded on your counsel.”
Heraclitus declined the invitation. His reply, steeped in Stoic disdain for pomp and material comfort, read:
“All men, while clinging to vain ambition and greed, stray far from truth and justice. I, having renounced evil, shun the indulgence that follows envy. Because I recoil from vanity and ostentation, I shall not come to the land of Persia. I am content with little, for such is my nature.”
Reflections on Heraclitus and the Ionian Revolt
Heraclitus' refusal may reveal deeper ideological fault lines in Ionia. Both he and Darius appear to have respected Hermodorus—identified by Cicero as “princeps Ephesiorum” and by Pliny and Strabo as a legislator. His exile may have symbolized a shift in Ephesus from aristocratic to democratic governance, which Heraclitus condemned and Darius sought to reverse.
Plutarch records that Heraclitus helped mediate peace during Ephesian civil strife (stasis), likely in alliance with figures such as Hermodorus. Thus, Darius’ invitation to Heraclitus may not have been a mere token of imperial curiosity—it may have been a diplomatic attempt to align the Ionian intellectual elite with Persian rule, or to neutralize their potential as ideological opponents.
Heraclitus declined, not out of enmity, but out of fidelity to a philosophical ideal of simplicity, self-reliance, and disdain for political power.
The Hellenic Wars
Darius was fully aware of the role Athens had played in supporting the Ionian revolts. In 491 BC, he sent envoys to the various Hellenic city-states, demanding they offer him earth and water—a traditional symbol of submission to Persian authority. These emissaries were not merely seeking tribute; they carried an ultimatum. They conveyed the king’s wrath over the burning of Sardis and demanded compensation from the city-states that had supported the Ionians. Henceforth, they were to become Persian client states, contributing tribute (savini) to replenish the imperial treasury, depleted in part by the costs of suppressing the revolt.
Yet the diplomatic norms that had long been respected—even by autocratic empires like Assyria, Babylon, and China—were defied by Athens and Sparta. The Athenians threw the Persian envoys into a pit reserved for criminals; the Spartans went further, casting them into a well and mockingly suggesting they find their “earth and water” there. This act was not only a diplomatic affront but an open declaration of hostility.
Athens’ response was partly orchestrated by Themistocles, who later fled to Persia under very different circumstances. At the time, however, he helped inflame public opinion by accusing the emissaries of “polluting the Greek tongue with barbarian ambitions.” While Athens and Sparta rejected Darius's demands with brutality, many other Greek city-states acquiesced, offering submission to avoid destruction.
Cleisthenes and the Engineering of Athenian Unity
Following the Ionian defeat at Lade, Cleisthenes foresaw that a Persian invasion of Attica was only a matter of time. He concluded that Athens needed to extinguish internal tribal discord and forge a unified civic identity to withstand the impending threat. Inspired by the Persian model, he restructured Athenian society by basing political identity not on noble lineage (patronymicos) but on local residence (demotic), thereby weakening aristocratic power.
He divided Attica into three geographical zones—the seashore, the city, and the inland territory—and further partitioned these into thirty units (trittyes). Each of the ten newly formed tribes (phylae) consisted of one unit from each zone, thereby ensuring every tribe represented the diversity of Attica. Tribal identity was now tied to the name of a mythic hero, such as Ajax, and no longer to familial descent.
As Aristotle noted:
"He divided the city into three parts: ten along the coast, ten inland, and ten around the city. Each tribe consisted of three parts, so that all shared in all regions... He merged inhabitants into one political identity, making the demotic name the signifier of origin, not ancestral descent."
Cleisthenes' political engineering may have forged national unity, but it also created social tensions. Some later thinkers, such as Socrates, may have viewed this transformation with suspicion, perhaps seeing in it the seeds of mob rule and the dilution of aristocratic virtue.
Darius' Retaliation: The Campaign Begins
The news of Athens and Sparta’s treatment of his emissaries enraged Darius. Though suppressing unrest in Egypt remained a priority, by 490 BC he was ready to turn his attention westward. Darius appointed Datís (Δᾶτιν), a noble Mede, to lead the campaign against Athens and Eretria. With him went his nephew Artaphernes, son of the satrap of Sardis, to gain military experience. Datís may have previously served at the Battle of Lade and was likely an experienced naval commander. According to Thucydides, Hippias, the exiled Athenian tyrant and son of Peisistratus, also joined the expedition.
The Persian expeditionary force was formidable: 600 warships, over 40,000 infantry, and 800 cavalry. They assembled in the plain of Aleion in Cilicia, where Persian-allied states had supplied warhorses. To avoid another disaster like the storm off Mount Athos, they chose a southern route via the Icarian Sea and landed first at Naxos. Anticipating destruction, many inhabitants fled to the hills. The Persians sacked the city, burned temples, and enslaved the people. The Delian islanders, fearing a similar fate, fled to Tenos. Datís then issued a message to the fugitives:
“Men of Delos, why do you flee in fear of me, as if I come with impious intent? I am under royal orders—and of my own accord—that the land where the twin gods were born shall suffer no harm, nor its people.”
The “twin gods” were understood by Persians as Mithra and Anahita—assimilated in Greek religion as Apollo and Artemis, both said to have been born on Delos. The sacredness of the island thus spared it from devastation.
The Sack of Eretria
Datís then set sail for Eretria with a combined Ionian and Aeolian army. The Eretrians, deeply divided, sent a plea to Athens for aid. The Athenians responded with 4,000 settlers from the lands near Chalcis, but internal conflict in Eretria doomed its defense. Some advocated resistance, while others plotted surrender. One of the city's leaders, Aeschines, even sent the Athenian reinforcements back, fearing total annihilation.
The Persians landed at Temenos, Choireai, and Aegilia, and besieged Eretria for six days. Eventually, two local leaders—Euphorbus and Philagrus—betrayed the city, opening its gates. The Persians entered, looted the temples in revenge for Sardis, and enslaved the population. These captives were sent to the Agrian River, where they were held until they could be transported to Susa after the upcoming campaign against Athens.
Prelude to Marathon
The Persian landing at Marathon was advised by Hippias, who believed the plains there were ideal for cavalry. Herodotus claimed the terrain was chosen for its strategic openness, but modern scholars, such as W. W. How and J. Wells, have questioned this. Marathon’s plains are divided by hills and end in marshes—hardly optimal for large-scale cavalry maneuvers.
“If Athens was the primary target, why anchor the fleet 40 kilometers away in Marathon? Eretria’s proximity could not justify bypassing the more direct routes. Perhaps Hippias sought to lure Athenian forces away from the city to prepare a coup.”
As soon as the Persians landed, Athens dispatched the runner Pheidippides to Sparta to request reinforcements. Reaching Sparta in a single day, he delivered a plea:
“Lacedaemonians! The people of Athens ask your help, lest this ancient city of Hellas be enslaved by the barbarians. Eretria has already fallen. Will you allow all of Hellas to follow?”
Yet Sparta, observing a religious festival, delayed its response. Athens would have to face Persia alone—at least for now.
The Battle of Marathon: Reality, Myth, and Historical Memory
When the Athenians dispatched their runner to Sparta, the Lacedaemonians responded that they were unable to intervene until the full cycle of the moon was complete. It was the ninth day of the month, and they were bound by the religious laws —a rite that forbade military action during this sacred period. Thus, Athens was left to confront the might of Persia alone. Ten generals were appointed to lead the hoplite forces, one of whom was Miltiades. As the Athenians advanced through the burial grounds of Heracles, they were joined by the Plataeans with their entire contingent, a rare and courageous gesture of solidarity.
Herodotus recounts that each of the ten Athenian generals was to command the army in turn. However, several ceded their day to Miltiades, granting him multiple days of leadership. Yet Miltiades refrained from assuming full command prematurely, cautious not to provoke dissent among the ranks. This account itself is fraught with inconsistencies: it is unclear who had formally appointed Miltiades, and such a rotating command structure would have been disastrously inefficient against a formidable force like Persia's, which some sources claim outnumbered the Athenians by more than two to one.
According to Plato and Diodorus, the Persian commander Datis (Dadin) sent a message to the Athenians urging their surrender. He claimed noble Median lineage, tracing his descent from Medea—herself a descendant of the sun god Helios, later identified with Apollo. This appeal to mythic kinship was likely a calculated attempt to sway Athenian aristocrats, particularly those sympathetic to the Peisistratid cause.
When the Athenian forces arrived at Marathon, internal divisions quickly surfaced. Some generals, awed by the size and discipline of the Persian army, argued for surrender. Miltiades, however, believed that a decisive victory would catapult Athens to primacy among the Hellenic city-states. He managed to sway the vote in favor of engagement. Thus, under a hail of Persian arrows, the Athenians charged forward.
Yet this narrative too is riddled with complications. Howe and Wells note the curious detail that the Persian army had landed at Marathon a full day before the Athenians and inexplicably waited eleven days before initiating hostilities. Why would such a numerically superior force—well-equipped and familiar with rapid strikes—delay action and allow the Greeks to entrench?
Plato, in his Menexenus and Nomoi, remarks on the sheer terror the Persian navy inspired across Hellas. With no Greek fleet large enough to oppose it—Athens at the time had no more than eighty triremes—the Persians roamed the Mediterranean, Black Sea, and Persian Gulf with impunity. Every Greek city, when weighing whether to assist Athens, had to consider the price of Persian reprisal, which history had shown to be swift and brutal.
Some scholars, including Howe and Wells, speculate that Athenian factionalism shaped the course of events. While Peisistratid loyalists looked to Sparta for support, democratic elements within Athens may have sought Persian backing to neutralize internal threats. This may explain why the Persian forces were divided—one force to distract Athenian troops at Marathon, the other, perhaps, tasked with seizing the city with help from Persian sympathizers.
It is equally surprising that Datis, with his fleet of 590 warships and tens of thousands of soldiers, was defeated and returned to Susa without facing severe punishment from Darius. Plato, in the Nomoi, provides a possible explanation: Darius had already died by the time Datis returned, and his successor Xerxes, a fiery and ambitious young monarch, was preparing a renewed campaign. Thus, the alleged Persian defeat may have been less catastrophic than commonly portrayed in later Greek historiography.
Indeed, Plato makes no triumphant mention of a Greek victory at Marathon. He focuses instead on the psychological impact of the Persian campaign and the ominous threats of renewed invasion, which sowed fear and servitude among the Greek cities and intensified loyalty to their leaders and laws.
It is important to recall that Athenian democracy at this time was far from liberal in the modern sense. Only about ten to twelve percent of the population—some thirty thousand out of fifty thousand—enjoyed political rights. There was no constitutional framework guaranteeing freedom of speech, religion, or personal liberty. Democracy for many Athenians was synonymous not with justice, but with the chaotic rule of impoverished farmers and unrefined laborers. Thus, the aristocratic Peisistratid faction remained popular among those who prized merit and order.
As Howe and Wells argue, had the Persians leveraged their numerical advantage by simultaneously engaging the Athenians at Marathon and marching a separate force on the unguarded city, Athens could have fallen. Miltiades, with his limited manpower, could not have defended both fronts. A retreat to protect the city would have left him exposed at Marathon, while any aggressive maneuver risked encirclement. Herodotus hints at possible treachery, suggesting that the powerful Alcmaeonids may have signaled the Persians with shining shields—an accusation he himself questions, given their historical hostility to tyranny.
Western narratives have long romanticized the Battle of Marathon as a foundational moment of Western civilization. Writers, poets, and historians—from Thucydides to Plutarch, and later to modern commentators—have praised it as a triumph of democracy against despotism. Yet even this grand narrative is fragile. J.A. Evans speculates that the Persian strategy relied on internal Athenian collaborators, hoping that supporters of Peisistratus would assist in a coup once Persian forces landed. When no such support materialized, the Persians briefly lingered at Phaleron before withdrawing.
Remarkably, Thucydides—often heralded as the father of critical history—barely mentions Marathon. He dismisses it as a minor episode, writing that the Persian War as a whole was resolved in just two naval and two land battles. He does not include Marathon among them, reserving that honor for later engagements during Xerxes’ invasion. Thucydides' silence is telling. In two references, he records the battle only through reported speech: once, in an Athenian envoy’s remark that Athens alone had faced the barbarian at Marathon; and again, in Pericles’ funeral oration, where he notes that only the dead of Marathon were buried on the battlefield itself, an honor reserved for exceptional valor.
This selective memory speaks volumes. Marathon was not universally regarded as a transformative moment in its own time. It was later mythologized, elevated by political necessity and cultural pride. The evidence from Herodotus, Plato, Thucydides, and modern scholars reveals a more complex, ambiguous, and politically charged episode—one in which myth has long overshadowed historical nuance.
However, according to Herodotus, when the Persian fleet returned to Asia and brought with it the enslaved Eretrians, Darius did not harm them. Instead, he granted them a settlement near Susa, in a place called Arderika, a town in the district of Cissus. This act—lenient by imperial standards—complicates the portrayal of Darius as a ruthless conqueror and adds further ambiguity to the Athenian narrative of unmitigated Persian tyranny.
Back in Athens, unrest soon followed. Miltiades, seeking to secure his political survival and perhaps capitalize on his fleeting prestige, proposed a bold plan. He claimed that, if granted ships, troops, and funding, he would launch a campaign against city-states that had collaborated with the Persians and thereby repay Athens for its wartime expenditures with the spoils of victory. Significantly, he did not disclose the specific target of his expedition. Herodotus implies that Miltiades deliberately withheld this information, either to avoid opposition or because his true motives were more personal than strategic.
The Athenian assembly consented and entrusted him with seventy warships. Rather than launching a broad campaign of retribution against Persian allies, Miltiades turned his sights on the island of Paros, which had supplied ships to the Persian fleet at Marathon. His siege lasted twenty-six days, during which he was severely wounded—though Herodotus, with characteristic embellishment, attributes the injury to a failed romantic pursuit of a Parian priestess who betrayed him.
In the end, Miltiades returned to Athens in disgrace—without gold, without victory, and bearing a festering wound. He had neither redeemed the cost of war nor brought strategic advantage. The Athenians, quick to turn on yesterday’s heroes, put him on trial. The prosecutor, Xanthippus (Ξάνθιππος), brought a charge carrying the death penalty for “deceiving the state.” Miltiades, too ill to speak in his own defense, was brought into the assembly on a stretcher. His friends argued on his behalf, reminding the people of his past achievements at Lemnos and in his punitive actions against the Pelasgians. Strikingly, they made no mention of Marathon—a silence that speaks volumes about the evolving narrative around that battle.
Though spared execution, Miltiades was fined fifty talents of gold—an enormous sum—for having misled the people. He died soon after from his wound, and it was left to his son, Cimon, to pay the penalty.
Conclusion: Darius, Kingship, and the Afterlife of Imperial Symbols
Darius the Great understood, perhaps more than any of his predecessors, that empire was not eternal but symbolic—that the endurance of his rule would lie not in the permanence of power but in the articulation of ideals. His inscriptions, reliefs, and administrative reforms were crafted not only to glorify his reign but to address future dynasties and posterity. In contrast to the brutal imperial aesthetics of the Assyrians or the subjugating hierarchies of Egyptian art, the Achaemenid vision presented at Persepolis was one of ordered plurality. Here, the peoples of the empire are not humiliated prisoners but dignified envoys bearing tribute—each portrayed with the dignity of cultural distinctiveness and the unity of imperial cohesion.
Margaret Root and others have rightly observed that this visual grammar was revolutionary. It reframed empire not as conquest and humiliation but as harmony under divine mandate—a community of nations upheld by the justice (asha) of Ahura Mazda, stewarded by the king. Darius's inscriptions at Behistun proudly enumerate the twenty-three nations under his rule, emphasizing their distinct identities while embedding them in a shared system of order. The artisans, materials, and symbols used across Persepolis—imported from Egypt, Greece, Elam, and Media—form a physical testament to the interconnectedness of the Achaemenid world and its ambition to transcend parochial power through a universal political ethos.
Following years of internal strife, Cleisthenes of the Alcmaeonid family succeeded in rallying support from Sparta, with the crucial aid of the oracle at Delphi—bribed, according to Herodotus, to issue favorable responses on his behalf. Sparta, as a diarchy, was ruled jointly by two kings, one from each of the Agiad and Eurypontid houses. King Cleomenes I of the Agiad line ultimately led the Spartan intervention and expelled the Athenian tyrant Hippias (also called Epae) in 510 BCE.
Hippias fled to Sardis, where he was received by Artaphernes, the satrap of Lydia and half-brother of King Darius I. Artaphernes had been appointed to govern the western provinces of the empire, including the strategic coastline of Asia Minor. From there, Hippias eventually traveled east and sought asylum at the royal court of Darius in Susa, hoping that the Achaemenid king would support his restoration in Athens. Many aristocrats in Athens still favored his return, believing it would preserve their privileges under a centralized regime backed by Persia.
Demaratus and Persian Sympathies in Sparta
Hippias was not the only Greek noble to seek protection at the Persian court. Demaratus, the Eurypontid co-king of Sparta and a rival of Cleomenes, also sympathized with Persian power. He frequently opposed Cleomenes' policies and was eventually forced into exile. Demaratus later fled to Xerxes I at Susa and accompanied the Persian king during his campaign against Greece in the Second Persian War.
The Cleisthenes–Isagoras Rivalry and Spartan Intrusion
Following the expulsion of Hippias, Athens quickly fell into a power struggle between two rival factions. One was led by Isagoras, a member of the oligarchic elite whom Aristotle called a "friend of tyrants" (philos tōn tyrannōn), and a supporter of Hippias. The other was led by Cleisthenes, whose family had suffered exile under the Peisistratid tyranny.
Isagoras initially prevailed and was elected archon in 508 BCE. Cleisthenes responded by rallying the support of the dēmos—the common people—and reorganizing the structure of Athenian political power. He introduced democratic reforms, expanded citizenship rights (excluding women and slaves), and laid the foundations for the Athenian politeia (constitution). As his influence grew, Cleisthenes sought to marginalize Isagoras and the oligarchic elite.
In response, Isagoras appealed to King Cleomenes of Sparta. Spartan troops entered Athens, expelled Cleisthenes, and exiled 700 families, many of whom belonged to the Alcmaeonid faction. Isagoras attempted to dismantle the newly formed popular government (dēmos), but his efforts were short-lived.
Athens Appeals to Persia
Amid these internal upheavals, Athens took the unprecedented step of sending envoys to Artaphernes in Sardis to request Persian assistance. According to Herodotus:
"When the envoys arrived in Sardis and delivered their message, Artaphernes, son of Hystaspes and governor of Sardis, asked: 'Who are you, and where do you dwell, that you seek alliance with the Persians?' When the envoys responded, he told them that if they wished to form an alliance with King Darius, they must offer him earth and water as tokens of submission."
Herodotus implies that the Athenian envoys—most likely from the Alcmaeonid faction—accepted Artaphernes' terms, thus symbolically placing Athens under Persian suzerainty. While major modern historians such as Amélie Kuhrt, Wiesehöfer, and Lazenby emphasize the significance of this act, many nationalist or traditionalist Iranian scholars, including those influenced by the legacy of Ehsan Yarshater, downplay or ignore the episode due to its implications for Iranian-Greek relations.
The Mystery of Marathon and the Alcmaeonid Cipher
Later, during the Battle of Marathon, Herodotus records an enigmatic rumor that members of the Alcmaeonid family may have signaled the Persians using shields as reflective devices, potentially to assist in coordinating an attack or facilitating a landing. While speculative, this tale adds a layer of intrigue to the complex relationship between the Alcmaeonids and Persia—particularly given their earlier submission of "earth and water."
Spartan Confusion and the Persian Ultimatum
Following the failed Isagoras episode, Spartan forces under Cleomenes launched a broader campaign against Athens, advancing through Eleusis and Boeotia, while Chalcidian forces attacked from the north. Athens seemed surrounded on all fronts. Yet, at the critical moment, the Spartans abruptly withdrew. Herodotus notes that:
"First the Corinthians, and then King Demaratus of Sparta, withdrew their support, halting the invasion."
Herodotus offers no definitive explanation for this unexpected reversal, but the evidence suggests that a warning or diplomatic ultimatum from Artaphernes may have reached the Spartan command. If Athens had submitted its “earth and water” to Darius, any Spartan attack on the city could be interpreted as aggression against Persian territory.
This episode marks a turning point in Athenian-Persian relations, revealing both the ambitions of the Achaemenid Empire and the fragile allegiances of the Greek city-states at the dawn of the classical era.
The Ionian Revolts and the Prelude to War with Hellas
Centuries before Cyrus the Great conquered Lydia and Ionia, waves of Hellenic migrants had settled along the western coast of Asia Minor, establishing vibrant Ionian city-states near the lands of Lydia and Caria. Following a military victory against Caria, these cities formed the Koinon Iōnōn (κοινὸν Ἰώνων), the League of the Ionians. Herodotus recounts that this alliance gathered annually at the sacred Panionion to celebrate the Panionia festival, reaffirming their shared identity despite political divisions.
As detailed in earlier chapters, when Cyrus overthrew Croesus and conquered Lydia in 547 BC, the Ionian cities—once part of Croesus’ dominion—became incorporated into the newly formed Persian satrapy of Sparda. The Ionians sent envoys to Cyrus seeking favorable terms, but he rebuffed them, accepting only Miletus into alliance and forcibly annexing the remaining cities.
Despite their shared linguistic heritage, significant cultural and political differences had emerged between the Ionians of Asia and the mainland Hellenes of Hellas. Whereas the Athenians prided themselves on their austere civic values, they increasingly scorned the Ionians, who had, over generations of foreign domination—first by the Cimmerians, then Lydians, and now Persians—embraced a life of luxury, opulence, and what many mainland Greeks considered effeminacy. As Athenaeus of Naucratis recounts, citing Xenophanes, the Ionians paraded about in elaborate garments, perfumed oils, and extravagant hairstyles, evoking the aesthetic excesses of their Lydian past.
Nonetheless, many Athenians still acknowledged their Ionian roots. The cultural refinement and civic sophistication of the Ionian cities in the sixth century BC were widely recognized. Some Athenian elites even claimed that Athens itself was an Ionian city, and indeed Athens held one of only two Ionian votes in the Delphic Amphictyony. Yet after the fall of Ionia to the Persians, these once-proud cities became, in the eyes of the Hellenes, subjects of a foreign yoke. Their political subjugation and shifting allegiances raised alarm in Hellas, where it was increasingly feared that Persian influence would soon extend beyond the Aegean into Europe.
During Darius’s reign, the Ionian cities—known in his Bisitun inscription as Yaunā—formed a tax district within the Persian administrative system, grouped with neighboring regions such as Caria, Aeolia, Pamphylia, Lycia, and Magnesia. Yet the region was politically unstable. The Ionian poleis, fractious by nature and prone to internecine warfare, threatened both the security and tax revenues of the empire’s western flank. To address this instability, Artaphernes, Darius’s brother and satrap of Sardis, convened the region’s nobles around 500 BC to enforce a treaty forbidding mutual hostilities. He aimed to create a stable buffer zone that would allow Persia to better secure its Aegean holdings and prepare for further expansion.
At the same time, Megabazus—Darius’s seasoned general who had successfully conquered Thrace and brought Macedonia under Persian rule—grew suspicious of Histiaeus, the wily and ambitious tyrant of Miletus. Despite Histiaeus’s prior loyalty to Darius during the Scythian campaign, Megabazus warned that his ambitions posed a threat to imperial unity. Acting on this counsel, Darius summoned Histiaeus to Susa, offering him an honorable advisory post but removing him from direct control of Miletus. At Histiaeus’s recommendation, his nephew Aristagoras was appointed governor of Miletus in his stead.
In 499 BC, Aristagoras sought to expand his power by capturing the island of Naxos, which had expelled its aristocrats during an internal revolt. Aristagoras, allied with the exiled Naxian nobles, proposed an ambitious plan to Artaphernes: if Persia aided in subduing Naxos, it would pave the way for the conquest of the Cyclades and ultimately the key island of Euboea. Artaphernes approved the plan and assembled a fleet under the command of Megabates, a cousin of Darius.
However, the campaign quickly unraveled. Aristagoras underestimated Megabates’s authority and competence, and tensions arose between the two commanders. After a failed siege and retreat from Naxos, Aristagoras found himself politically vulnerable. Fearing punishment from Darius, he turned to rebellion. Encouraged—perhaps even manipulated—by his exiled uncle Histiaeus, he incited the Ionian cities to revolt, urging them to expel their Persian-appointed rulers.
Herodotus recounts the dramatic tale of Histiaeus tattooing a secret message on the scalp of a slave, whose hair regrew to conceal the message until he could reach Aristagoras. Though likely apocryphal, the story captures the sense of subterfuge and unrest that defined this moment.
Seeking allies, Aristagoras traveled to Sparta to plead for aid from King Cleomenes. But when Cleomenes learned the Persian capital lay over three months’ march from the coast, he declined. Aristagoras then turned to Athens. Motivated by both ideological opposition to tyranny and fear of Persian expansion into Europe, the Athenians agreed to assist. They sent twenty triremes, joined by five from Eretria. It was a modest force, but symbolically profound: the Athenians had now openly defied the Persian Empire, and the path to open war had begun.
The Burning of Sardis
In the spring of 499 BC, the Ionian Revolt escalated into open warfare. A combined fleet of Ionian rebels and their allies from Athens and Eretria set sail for the western coast of Asia Minor. Their destination was Ephesus, the ancient Ionian city near the mouth of the Kaistros River. Upon arrival, the allied force disembarked at the port of Korēssia and began a rapid inland march along the riverbed, advancing toward the administrative heart of the Persian Empire in the West—Sardis.
At the time, the Persian satrap Artaphernes had neither anticipated such a direct assault nor stationed a sufficient garrison to defend the outer city. The element of surprise allowed the Greek force to penetrate deep into the lower quarters of Sardis, even threatening the outer perimeter of the acropolis, where Artaphernes had taken refuge.
The Greek troops eventually met resistance near the fortified citadel. Despite their initial success, they were unable to breach its defenses. Frustrated and vulnerable, they set fire to the city’s lower quarters in a final act of defiance before retreating along their original route to Ephesus. The fire spread uncontrollably, consuming much of Sardis—including its wooden structures and sacred temples. Herodotus notes that the Temple of Cybele, sacred to the Lydians, was among those destroyed, adding a deep spiritual offense to the military blow.
Artaphernes, having recovered from the initial shock and mustered his forces, quickly pursued the retreating Greeks. Near Ephesus, he caught the disorganized Ionian and Athenian troops and launched a brutal counterattack. Many were slaughtered in the ensuing chaos, including the Eretrian commander. Only a handful of survivors managed to escape and take refuge in nearby Ionian cities.
The symbolic weight of the attack, however, far exceeded its military outcome. The burning of Sardis—a major provincial capital of the Persian Empire—was not merely a rebellious skirmish; it was a direct violation of imperial sovereignty and a sacrilegious act in the eyes of the Achaemenids.
When word reached King Darius in Susa, his reaction was swift and mythically charged. Herodotus recounts the moment in evocative terms:
“When it was reported to Darius that the Athenians and Ionians had captured and set fire to Sardis, and that Aristagoras of Miletus had led the expedition, the king at first dismissed the Ionians, knowing they would not go unpunished. But then he asked, 'Who are these Athenians?' Upon hearing their name, he called for his bow. Taking an arrow, he notched it, and loosing it into the sky, he prayed aloud: ‘O Ahura Mazda, grant me vengeance upon the Athenians!’ Thereafter, he commanded one of his servants to repeat to him daily at dinner: ‘Master, remember the Athenians.’” (Herodotus, Histories 5.105)
Thus, the Athenians had crossed a threshold from distant allies of rebels to targets of imperial wrath. The attack on Sardis etched itself into the memory of the Persian king as an unforgivable offense. It was not merely a local rebellion; it was an international insult, and it planted the seeds of Darius’s desire for retribution. The Ionian Revolt, once a regional challenge, had now drawn the full attention—and vengeance—of the Great King.
The Widening Revolt and the Fall of Aristagoras
Despite his crushing defeat at Sardis and the heavy losses suffered by the Ionian coalition, Aristagoras found himself in a position where retreat was no longer an option. He knew that the wrath of Darius was inevitable and that his life would soon be forfeit unless he continued to expand the revolt against Persian authority. In desperation, he incited rebellion not only across Ionia but also in the strategically vital regions of Cyprus, Caria, Thrace, and Caunus.
Among the most serious of these uprisings was the revolt in Cyprus, led by Onesilus (Ὀνήσιλος), the king of Salamis. Cyprus, a crucial naval outpost established during Cambyses’ conquest of Egypt, held immense importance for the Persian Empire. Its defection threatened Persian maritime routes between the Aegean and Egypt and jeopardized the defensive integrity of Phoenicia. Aristagoras dispatched a portion of the Ionian fleet to aid the Cypriots. However, in 497 BC, Darius’s forces dealt a decisive blow to the Cypriot rebels, killing Onesilus in battle and extinguishing the island’s resistance.
In response to these widening revolts, Darius mobilized with seriousness. In 496 BC, he dispatched three of his sons-in-law—Daurises (Δαυρίσης), Hymaeus (Ὑμαίης), and Otanes (Ὀτάνης)—each commanding a Persian division, to crush the insurgency. Their targets included rebellious cities in Ionia, Caria, and the surrounding regions that had aligned with Aristagoras and the Milesians.
(Philological note: The names of these commanders offer rich Indo-Iranian etymologies. “Dauris” may derive from the Old Persian root daag, meaning “fire,” and ris, meaning “spear” or “wound,” possibly signifying a “fiery spear” or “spear of wrath.” “Hymaeus” may be linked to the Persian hima or Sanskrit himatvi, evoking brilliance, fire, or even celestial elements such as the moon and sun. Otanes is a well-attested Achaemenid name, meaning “well-built” or “resolute.”)
Daurises led his campaign northward to the Hellespont, where he swiftly retook five rebellious cities with minimal resistance. Meanwhile, Hymaeus advanced along the Propontis (Sea of Marmara) to consolidate Persian control of the coastal territories east of Daurises’s path. Upon learning of a major Carian rebellion, Daurises turned south toward Caria, requesting Hymaeus to take over operations along the Hellespont. Hymaeus complied, successfully recapturing several settlements, including Ilium (near the Troad), but died of illness shortly thereafter.
A third army under Otanes, advancing behind the others, joined forces with Artaphernes. Together they captured Clazomenae, an Ionian city renowned for olive oil production, and Kyme in Aeolia near Lydia—delivering a significant economic and symbolic blow to the rebels.
According to Herodotus:
“When news of the Persian approach reached the Carians before Daurises arrived, they gathered at the place called Lefkas Stelas (Λευκάς τε στήλας, ‘White Pillars’) near the Marsyas River. (...) The Carians fought a long and valiant battle against the Persian forces, but in the end were overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Nearly two thousand Persians perished, but ten thousand Carians fell.” (Herodotus, Histories 5.119)
Though bloodied, the Persian campaign rolled on. Daurises defeated the Carians at the River Marsyas (likely the Morsynus, a tributary of the Maeander), forcing Greek survivors to retreat to the sacred sanctuary of Labraunda. There, they debated whether to surrender to the Persians or flee west to Hellas. Before a decision could be made, Aristagoras arrived from Miletus with reinforcements. Yet even with these additional forces, the rebels suffered a second defeat at the hands of the Persians.
In 495 BC, the Carians regrouped and launched a bold ambush against a Persian column near the road to Pedasus. In this surprise attack, they killed three prominent Persian commanders—Daurises, Amorges (Ἀμόργης), and Sisimachus (Σισίμακος). While this inflicted a symbolic wound on the Achaemenid campaign, the broader Persian strategy remained unshaken. City after city continued to fall under their control as the rebellion steadily unraveled.
Now faced with the near-total collapse of the revolt and the resurgence of Persian dominance, Aristagoras’s position became untenable. Herodotus, never generous in his portrayal of Aristagoras, deemed him a coward and a weak leader. Realizing the futility of his efforts, Aristagoras abdicated leadership in Miletus and handed command to a philosopher and mathematician—Pythagoras the Geometer.
Abandoning the rebellion he had sparked, Aristagoras fled north to Thrace. There, he attempted to seize new territory and establish himself in the city of Myrkinos. But the Thracians, wary of Greek interlopers and exhausted by regional turmoil, soon rose against him. Aristagoras was killed, and with his death, the last hope for Ionian resistance began to fade.
The Final Revolt of Histiaeus and the Battle of Lade
At this critical juncture, King Darius, seeking to quell the Ionian revolt and restore order, decided to send Histiaeus back from Susa to Miletus. Histiaeus had promised that he could pacify the region, claiming—deceptively—that the burning of Sardis had stirred the Ionians only briefly and that he could restore calm. Yet, as Herodotus suggests, he had no intention of peace; rather, he sought to lead the revolt himself.
Upon arriving in Sardis, Histiaeus was received with suspicion by Artaphernes, the astute satrap of Lydia. According to Herodotus, Artaphernes confronted him with a pointed question: “Why do you think the Ionians have revolted?” Histiaeus feigned surprise and ignorance, replying: “I too am astonished by their rebellion.” But Artaphernes saw through him, saying bluntly:
“Histiaeus, you have made the shoe, and Aristagoras has put it on.”
(Herodotus, Histories 6.1)
Realizing that his deceit had been uncovered and that his arrest was imminent, Histiaeus fled Sardis and sought refuge on the island of Chios. At first, the Chians imprisoned him, uncertain of his intentions. Eventually, however, he persuaded them that he was their ally. To justify his prior role in the rebellion, he falsely claimed that Darius planned to resettle the Phoenicians in Ionia and the Ionians in Phoenicia—a fabrication meant to inflame anti-Persian sentiment. While Herodotus reports this as Histiaeus’s excuse, it is plausible that Darius may have considered such partial population transfers, as a means of diluting local power blocs and securing imperial control through demographic fragmentation.
In a renewed bid to spark rebellion, Histiaeus wrote letters to discontented Persian officers, urging them to overthrow Darius. However, his messenger—Hermippus of Atarneus (Ἑρμίππου τοῦ Ἀταρνίτεω)—was loyal to Persia and delivered the letter to Artaphernes instead. At the satrap’s instruction, Hermippus carried out a sting operation: he delivered the message to the conspirators, then reported their responses, leading to the exposure and execution of the plotters.
Undeterred, Histiaeus attempted to return to Miletus and reclaim power. But the Milesians, weary of tyranny and destabilization after the reckless rule of Aristagoras, rejected him. In a failed bid to seize the city by force, he was wounded and fled again to Chios. There, his welcome had worn thin; the Chians refused to supply him with ships.
Histiaeus next turned to Mytilene on the island of Lesbos, where the Lesbians furnished him with eight ships. He used these to sail to Byzantium, where he engaged in piracy, seizing merchant vessels sailing from Caria unless they submitted to his authority. His actions further alienated allies and deepened his infamy.
The Battle of Lade – Triumph of the Persian Navy (494 BC)
By 494 BC, Darius had resolved to bring an end to the Ionian insurrection. Artaphernes prepared a major land offensive against Miletus, while the Persian navy—commanding some 600 warships—sailed toward the islet of Lade (Λάδη), located off the coast of Miletus. (Due to siltation over the centuries, the islet of Lade has since fused with the mainland.)
The Persian army besieged Miletus, battering its fortifications with rams and storming its walls. The city fell under overwhelming force: many of its defenders were slain or deported, women and children were sold into slavery, and temples were destroyed. Archaeological evidence still bears traces of this destruction in the burned and shattered layers of the site.
At sea, the Ionian alliance mustered 353 ships, a formidable armada by any standard. Their naval line was as follows:
Milesians: 80 ships (eastern wing)
Prienians: 12 ships
Myusians: 3 ships
Teians: 17 ships
Chians: 100 ships
Erythraeans: 8 ships
Phocaeans: 3 ships
Lesbians: 70 ships
Samians: 60 ships (western wing)
As the Persian fleet neared Lade, their admiral sent envoys with an offer: any polis that abandoned the alliance would be spared the destruction of its city and temples. Some city-states, grasping the strategic reality that even a naval victory would only delay Persian retaliation, accepted the offer. The Samians, for instance, withdrew at a critical moment, causing chaos in the Ionian ranks. In the ensuing battle, the Persian navy crushed the Ionian fleet.
The defeat at Lade marked a turning point. The last hope for Ionian resistance collapsed. The Persian naval victory reasserted dominance over the Aegean coast and shattered the maritime power of the Ionian cities.
The Capture and Death of Histiaeus
Histiaeus, seizing upon the Ionian defeat as a new opportunity, launched a raid on Chios from his base in Byzantium, exploiting their weakened state after Lade. He then marched inland toward Thasos, commanding a coalition of Ionian and Aeolian troops. But the Persian response was swift. A fleet was dispatched against him, forcing Histiaeus to retreat to Lesbos.
With his forces starving and cut off from supplies, he sailed to Mysia (Μυσία) on the southern shore of the Hellespont, hoping to secure grain. There, at the plain of Malēnē (Μαλήνῃ), he was intercepted by the army of the Persian general Harpagus (Ἅρπαγος). In the ensuing cavalry assault, his forces were annihilated.
Attempting to flee, Histiaeus was captured. According to Herodotus, as he was seized, he cried out in Persian: “I am Histiaeus of Miletus!” (Πέρσῃ γλῶσσῃ: Ἱστιαῖος Μιλήσιος εἰμί!) His captors brought him to Artaphernes in Sardis.
Herodotus writes that had he been sent to Darius, the king would have spared him. But Artaphernes and Harpagus, convinced that Histiaeus would never cease his subversion if allowed to live, had him executed by impalement and embalmed his head. When Darius received the head in Susa, he was angered by their decision and chastised them. He ordered the head washed and buried with honor, as befitted a former friend of the king.
Darius’ Punishment of the Rebellious Ionian City-States
Following the decisive Persian naval victory at the Battle of Lade (494 BC), King Darius I set out to punish the rebellious Ionian city-states in earnest, prior to implementing any broader strategic operations. His first step was to reinstate Aiakes, the son of Silos, as governor of Samos—a position from which he had been ousted by Aristagoras. Aiakes had remained loyal to Persia and, according to Herodotus, had secretly persuaded the pro-Persian Samian faction to withdraw their naval contingent during the battle. In reward for this covert loyalty, the Persian admiral exempted Samos from punishment, as promised prior to the confrontation.
Persian forces subsequently invaded Caria, subjugated the region, and wintered in Miletus. In the spring of 493 BC, the campaign resumed with the reconquest of the Aegean islands of Chios, Lesbos, and Tenedos. The population of these islands faced harsh retribution: cities were sacked, temples destroyed, and many of the inhabitants were either sold into slavery or forcibly castrated.
Next, the Persian fleet advanced toward the Hellespont, targeting the European shore, including the Chersonese (modern Gallipoli), and key cities such as Perinthos, Selymbria, and Byzantium—already brought under Persian control in the campaigns of 497–496 BC. The Byzantines and Chalcedonians, anticipating Persian arrival, fled eastward to Mesembria on the Black Sea. The Phoenician fleet, sailing under Persian command, then torched the abandoned cities and continued south, destroying Proconnesus and Artace before returning to finish their conquest of the Chersonese. Cyzicus (Κύζικον) had already been secured by Horbar (Οἰβάρης), the son of Megabazus (Μεγαβάζου), in preparation for the arrival of Persian forces. With these actions, the Ionian revolt was fully quelled, and peace was restored across the western frontier of the Achaemenid Empire.
Darius’ Reorganization of Ionian Asia (Asian Greece)
With the revolt suppressed, Darius adopted a conciliatory and pragmatic strategy to stabilize the region. In 493 BC, his satrap in Sardis, Artaphernes, summoned representatives of the Ionian city-states and implemented a series of reforms aimed at long-term peace. He ordered the drafting of inter-city treaties to resolve mutual grievances and establish courts to arbitrate dōsidikoi (legal disputes). This effort may be considered one of the earliest instances of inter-polis arbitration and confederated legal organization in ancient history.
Artaphernes also introduced more precise land surveys, using the parasang as the standard unit of measure, and revised the tax assessments (savini) based on these updated measurements. According to Herodotus:
“And in that year, the Persians caused no further trouble to the Ionians. Rather, events occurred that were beneficial to them: Artaphernes, satrap of Sardis, summoned the Ionian envoys and compelled them to cease raiding and fighting one another and to resolve their differences through law and judgment.”
This reformist phase continued into 492 BC, when Darius appointed his son-in-law Mardonius (Μαρδόνιος), son of Gobryas (Γοβρύεω), to command a large military force in Asia Minor. Mardonius had married Darius’ daughter Artozostre (Ἀρτοζώστρην) and was now entrusted with a dual mission: to punish the Greek city-states of Athens and Eretria for aiding the Ionian rebels, and to reorganize the governance of Ionia itself.
Herodotus highlights a surprising dimension of Mardonius’ mission: he deposed the tyrants (tyrannoi) of the Ionian cities and instituted democratic governments (dēmokratiai). This was a startling move, given Persian autocracy, but it was likely a tactical decision to prevent further unrest by satisfying local sentiments. Herodotus notes:
“When Mardonius arrived in Ionia, he did a remarkable thing—one that should silence those Greeks who doubt that Otanes, one of the seven conspirators against the Magi, had genuinely argued for democracy in Persia: Mardonius removed all the Ionian tyrants and established democracy in their cities.”
This strategy proved effective. When Xerxes marched on Hellas in 480 BC, many Ionians followed him—evidence that Darius’ policy had successfully re-integrated them into the imperial fold.
Mardonius proceeded to the Hellespont with a vast fleet and army, subjugating parts of Thrace and even overthrowing the kingdom of Macedonia. However, disaster struck when his fleet, sailing near Mount Athos in the northern Aegean, was caught in a storm. Many ships were lost, forcing him to abandon his campaign against Athens—for the moment.
Heraclitus and Darius
During this same period, the philosopher Heraclitus of Ephesus, a city under Persian control, was also deeply engaged with the political upheavals of Ionia. Though born into a lineage reputed to have held the ceremonial title of “king” of the Ionians, Heraclitus abdicated this role in favor of his brother. He opposed both democracy and mob rule, instead advocating the authority of wise and noble individuals—a view reflected in his cryptic and profound philosophical writings, many of which were preserved in the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus.
Heraclitus was undoubtedly affected by the Persian destruction of Miletus, the massacre and enslavement of its people, and the desecration of the sanctuary of Didyma. In response, he wrote one of his most famous fragments:
“War is the father of all things, the king of all, who makes some gods, others men; some slaves, others free.”
This stark view echoed the reality of imperial power and the transitory nature of human status in the wake of conflict.
Despite his opposition to popular rule, Heraclitus supported justice and admired the wisdom of individuals like Hermodorus, a leading Ephesian statesman who was exiled by his city. Heraclitus bitterly condemned the citizens for this injustice, writing:
“The Ephesians deserve to hang themselves, every one of them, for having driven out Hermodorus, the best man among them, declaring: ‘Let no one of us be the best; if anyone is, let him be so elsewhere and among others.’”
Remarkably, among a corpus of letters—nine in total—attributed to Heraclitus and other contemporaries, one is purportedly from Darius himself. Though some modern historians have dismissed these as first-century forgeries, the tone and content of the Persian king’s letter are both plausible and revealing. Darius writes:
“Greetings from King Darius, son of Hystaspes, to Heraclitus of Ephesus, wise man.You have composed a treatise on nature—difficult to understand and interpret! Some passages, when read plainly, seem to touch upon universal truths guided by divine wisdom. I wish to share in your insights and Greek learning. Come to me swiftly to my palace, for the Greeks often fail to honor their sages. At my court, you shall enjoy all honors, daily discourse, and a life of noble reputation founded on your counsel.”
Heraclitus declined the invitation. His reply, steeped in Stoic disdain for pomp and material comfort, read:
“All men, while clinging to vain ambition and greed, stray far from truth and justice. I, having renounced evil, shun the indulgence that follows envy. Because I recoil from vanity and ostentation, I shall not come to the land of Persia. I am content with little, for such is my nature.”
Reflections on Heraclitus and the Ionian Revolt
Heraclitus' refusal may reveal deeper ideological fault lines in Ionia. Both he and Darius appear to have respected Hermodorus—identified by Cicero as “princeps Ephesiorum” and by Pliny and Strabo as a legislator. His exile may have symbolized a shift in Ephesus from aristocratic to democratic governance, which Heraclitus condemned and Darius sought to reverse.
Plutarch records that Heraclitus helped mediate peace during Ephesian civil strife (stasis), likely in alliance with figures such as Hermodorus. Thus, Darius’ invitation to Heraclitus may not have been a mere token of imperial curiosity—it may have been a diplomatic attempt to align the Ionian intellectual elite with Persian rule, or to neutralize their potential as ideological opponents.
Heraclitus declined, not out of enmity, but out of fidelity to a philosophical ideal of simplicity, self-reliance, and disdain for political power.
The Hellenic Wars
Darius was fully aware of the role Athens had played in supporting the Ionian revolts. In 491 BC, he sent envoys to the various Hellenic city-states, demanding they offer him earth and water—a traditional symbol of submission to Persian authority. These emissaries were not merely seeking tribute; they carried an ultimatum. They conveyed the king’s wrath over the burning of Sardis and demanded compensation from the city-states that had supported the Ionians. Henceforth, they were to become Persian client states, contributing tribute (savini) to replenish the imperial treasury, depleted in part by the costs of suppressing the revolt.
Yet the diplomatic norms that had long been respected—even by autocratic empires like Assyria, Babylon, and China—were defied by Athens and Sparta. The Athenians threw the Persian envoys into a pit reserved for criminals; the Spartans went further, casting them into a well and mockingly suggesting they find their “earth and water” there. This act was not only a diplomatic affront but an open declaration of hostility.
Athens’ response was partly orchestrated by Themistocles, who later fled to Persia under very different circumstances. At the time, however, he helped inflame public opinion by accusing the emissaries of “polluting the Greek tongue with barbarian ambitions.” While Athens and Sparta rejected Darius's demands with brutality, many other Greek city-states acquiesced, offering submission to avoid destruction.
Cleisthenes and the Engineering of Athenian Unity
Following the Ionian defeat at Lade, Cleisthenes foresaw that a Persian invasion of Attica was only a matter of time. He concluded that Athens needed to extinguish internal tribal discord and forge a unified civic identity to withstand the impending threat. Inspired by the Persian model, he restructured Athenian society by basing political identity not on noble lineage (patronymicos) but on local residence (demotic), thereby weakening aristocratic power.
He divided Attica into three geographical zones—the seashore, the city, and the inland territory—and further partitioned these into thirty units (trittyes). Each of the ten newly formed tribes (phylae) consisted of one unit from each zone, thereby ensuring every tribe represented the diversity of Attica. Tribal identity was now tied to the name of a mythic hero, such as Ajax, and no longer to familial descent.
As Aristotle noted:
"He divided the city into three parts: ten along the coast, ten inland, and ten around the city. Each tribe consisted of three parts, so that all shared in all regions... He merged inhabitants into one political identity, making the demotic name the signifier of origin, not ancestral descent."
Cleisthenes' political engineering may have forged national unity, but it also created social tensions. Some later thinkers, such as Socrates, may have viewed this transformation with suspicion, perhaps seeing in it the seeds of mob rule and the dilution of aristocratic virtue.
Darius' Retaliation: The Campaign Begins
The news of Athens and Sparta’s treatment of his emissaries enraged Darius. Though suppressing unrest in Egypt remained a priority, by 490 BC he was ready to turn his attention westward. Darius appointed Datís (Δᾶτιν), a noble Mede, to lead the campaign against Athens and Eretria. With him went his nephew Artaphernes, son of the satrap of Sardis, to gain military experience. Datís may have previously served at the Battle of Lade and was likely an experienced naval commander. According to Thucydides, Hippias, the exiled Athenian tyrant and son of Peisistratus, also joined the expedition.
The Persian expeditionary force was formidable: 600 warships, over 40,000 infantry, and 800 cavalry. They assembled in the plain of Aleion in Cilicia, where Persian-allied states had supplied warhorses. To avoid another disaster like the storm off Mount Athos, they chose a southern route via the Icarian Sea and landed first at Naxos. Anticipating destruction, many inhabitants fled to the hills. The Persians sacked the city, burned temples, and enslaved the people. The Delian islanders, fearing a similar fate, fled to Tenos. Datís then issued a message to the fugitives:
“Men of Delos, why do you flee in fear of me, as if I come with impious intent? I am under royal orders—and of my own accord—that the land where the twin gods were born shall suffer no harm, nor its people.”
The “twin gods” were understood by Persians as Mithra and Anahita—assimilated in Greek religion as Apollo and Artemis, both said to have been born on Delos. The sacredness of the island thus spared it from devastation.
The Sack of Eretria
Datís then set sail for Eretria with a combined Ionian and Aeolian army. The Eretrians, deeply divided, sent a plea to Athens for aid. The Athenians responded with 4,000 settlers from the lands near Chalcis, but internal conflict in Eretria doomed its defense. Some advocated resistance, while others plotted surrender. One of the city's leaders, Aeschines, even sent the Athenian reinforcements back, fearing total annihilation.
The Persians landed at Temenos, Choireai, and Aegilia, and besieged Eretria for six days. Eventually, two local leaders—Euphorbus and Philagrus—betrayed the city, opening its gates. The Persians entered, looted the temples in revenge for Sardis, and enslaved the population. These captives were sent to the Agrian River, where they were held until they could be transported to Susa after the upcoming campaign against Athens.
Prelude to Marathon
The Persian landing at Marathon was advised by Hippias, who believed the plains there were ideal for cavalry. Herodotus claimed the terrain was chosen for its strategic openness, but modern scholars, such as W. W. How and J. Wells, have questioned this. Marathon’s plains are divided by hills and end in marshes—hardly optimal for large-scale cavalry maneuvers.
“If Athens was the primary target, why anchor the fleet 40 kilometers away in Marathon? Eretria’s proximity could not justify bypassing the more direct routes. Perhaps Hippias sought to lure Athenian forces away from the city to prepare a coup.”
As soon as the Persians landed, Athens dispatched the runner Pheidippides to Sparta to request reinforcements. Reaching Sparta in a single day, he delivered a plea:
“Lacedaemonians! The people of Athens ask your help, lest this ancient city of Hellas be enslaved by the barbarians. Eretria has already fallen. Will you allow all of Hellas to follow?”
Yet Sparta, observing a religious festival, delayed its response. Athens would have to face Persia alone—at least for now.
The Battle of Marathon: Reality, Myth, and Historical Memory
When the Athenians dispatched their runner to Sparta, the Lacedaemonians responded that they were unable to intervene until the full cycle of the moon was complete. It was the ninth day of the month, and they were bound by the religious laws —a rite that forbade military action during this sacred period. Thus, Athens was left to confront the might of Persia alone. Ten generals were appointed to lead the hoplite forces, one of whom was Miltiades. As the Athenians advanced through the burial grounds of Heracles, they were joined by the Plataeans with their entire contingent, a rare and courageous gesture of solidarity.
Herodotus recounts that each of the ten Athenian generals was to command the army in turn. However, several ceded their day to Miltiades, granting him multiple days of leadership. Yet Miltiades refrained from assuming full command prematurely, cautious not to provoke dissent among the ranks. This account itself is fraught with inconsistencies: it is unclear who had formally appointed Miltiades, and such a rotating command structure would have been disastrously inefficient against a formidable force like Persia's, which some sources claim outnumbered the Athenians by more than two to one.
According to Plato and Diodorus, the Persian commander Datis (Dadin) sent a message to the Athenians urging their surrender. He claimed noble Median lineage, tracing his descent from Medea—herself a descendant of the sun god Helios, later identified with Apollo. This appeal to mythic kinship was likely a calculated attempt to sway Athenian aristocrats, particularly those sympathetic to the Peisistratid cause.
When the Athenian forces arrived at Marathon, internal divisions quickly surfaced. Some generals, awed by the size and discipline of the Persian army, argued for surrender. Miltiades, however, believed that a decisive victory would catapult Athens to primacy among the Hellenic city-states. He managed to sway the vote in favor of engagement. Thus, under a hail of Persian arrows, the Athenians charged forward.
Yet this narrative too is riddled with complications. Howe and Wells note the curious detail that the Persian army had landed at Marathon a full day before the Athenians and inexplicably waited eleven days before initiating hostilities. Why would such a numerically superior force—well-equipped and familiar with rapid strikes—delay action and allow the Greeks to entrench?
Plato, in his Menexenus and Nomoi, remarks on the sheer terror the Persian navy inspired across Hellas. With no Greek fleet large enough to oppose it—Athens at the time had no more than eighty triremes—the Persians roamed the Mediterranean, Black Sea, and Persian Gulf with impunity. Every Greek city, when weighing whether to assist Athens, had to consider the price of Persian reprisal, which history had shown to be swift and brutal.
Some scholars, including Howe and Wells, speculate that Athenian factionalism shaped the course of events. While Peisistratid loyalists looked to Sparta for support, democratic elements within Athens may have sought Persian backing to neutralize internal threats. This may explain why the Persian forces were divided—one force to distract Athenian troops at Marathon, the other, perhaps, tasked with seizing the city with help from Persian sympathizers.
It is equally surprising that Datis, with his fleet of 590 warships and tens of thousands of soldiers, was defeated and returned to Susa without facing severe punishment from Darius. Plato, in the Nomoi, provides a possible explanation: Darius had already died by the time Datis returned, and his successor Xerxes, a fiery and ambitious young monarch, was preparing a renewed campaign. Thus, the alleged Persian defeat may have been less catastrophic than commonly portrayed in later Greek historiography.
Indeed, Plato makes no triumphant mention of a Greek victory at Marathon. He focuses instead on the psychological impact of the Persian campaign and the ominous threats of renewed invasion, which sowed fear and servitude among the Greek cities and intensified loyalty to their leaders and laws.
It is important to recall that Athenian democracy at this time was far from liberal in the modern sense. Only about ten to twelve percent of the population—some thirty thousand out of fifty thousand—enjoyed political rights. There was no constitutional framework guaranteeing freedom of speech, religion, or personal liberty. Democracy for many Athenians was synonymous not with justice, but with the chaotic rule of impoverished farmers and unrefined laborers. Thus, the aristocratic Peisistratid faction remained popular among those who prized merit and order.
As Howe and Wells argue, had the Persians leveraged their numerical advantage by simultaneously engaging the Athenians at Marathon and marching a separate force on the unguarded city, Athens could have fallen. Miltiades, with his limited manpower, could not have defended both fronts. A retreat to protect the city would have left him exposed at Marathon, while any aggressive maneuver risked encirclement. Herodotus hints at possible treachery, suggesting that the powerful Alcmaeonids may have signaled the Persians with shining shields—an accusation he himself questions, given their historical hostility to tyranny.
Western narratives have long romanticized the Battle of Marathon as a foundational moment of Western civilization. Writers, poets, and historians—from Thucydides to Plutarch, and later to modern commentators—have praised it as a triumph of democracy against despotism. Yet even this grand narrative is fragile. J.A. Evans speculates that the Persian strategy relied on internal Athenian collaborators, hoping that supporters of Peisistratus would assist in a coup once Persian forces landed. When no such support materialized, the Persians briefly lingered at Phaleron before withdrawing.
Remarkably, Thucydides—often heralded as the father of critical history—barely mentions Marathon. He dismisses it as a minor episode, writing that the Persian War as a whole was resolved in just two naval and two land battles. He does not include Marathon among them, reserving that honor for later engagements during Xerxes’ invasion. Thucydides' silence is telling. In two references, he records the battle only through reported speech: once, in an Athenian envoy’s remark that Athens alone had faced the barbarian at Marathon; and again, in Pericles’ funeral oration, where he notes that only the dead of Marathon were buried on the battlefield itself, an honor reserved for exceptional valor.
This selective memory speaks volumes. Marathon was not universally regarded as a transformative moment in its own time. It was later mythologized, elevated by political necessity and cultural pride. The evidence from Herodotus, Plato, Thucydides, and modern scholars reveals a more complex, ambiguous, and politically charged episode—one in which myth has long overshadowed historical nuance.
However, according to Herodotus, when the Persian fleet returned to Asia and brought with it the enslaved Eretrians, Darius did not harm them. Instead, he granted them a settlement near Susa, in a place called Arderika, a town in the district of Cissus. This act—lenient by imperial standards—complicates the portrayal of Darius as a ruthless conqueror and adds further ambiguity to the Athenian narrative of unmitigated Persian tyranny.
Back in Athens, unrest soon followed. Miltiades, seeking to secure his political survival and perhaps capitalize on his fleeting prestige, proposed a bold plan. He claimed that, if granted ships, troops, and funding, he would launch a campaign against city-states that had collaborated with the Persians and thereby repay Athens for its wartime expenditures with the spoils of victory. Significantly, he did not disclose the specific target of his expedition. Herodotus implies that Miltiades deliberately withheld this information, either to avoid opposition or because his true motives were more personal than strategic.
The Athenian assembly consented and entrusted him with seventy warships. Rather than launching a broad campaign of retribution against Persian allies, Miltiades turned his sights on the island of Paros, which had supplied ships to the Persian fleet at Marathon. His siege lasted twenty-six days, during which he was severely wounded—though Herodotus, with characteristic embellishment, attributes the injury to a failed romantic pursuit of a Parian priestess who betrayed him.
In the end, Miltiades returned to Athens in disgrace—without gold, without victory, and bearing a festering wound. He had neither redeemed the cost of war nor brought strategic advantage. The Athenians, quick to turn on yesterday’s heroes, put him on trial. The prosecutor, Xanthippus (Ξάνθιππος), brought a charge carrying the death penalty for “deceiving the state.” Miltiades, too ill to speak in his own defense, was brought into the assembly on a stretcher. His friends argued on his behalf, reminding the people of his past achievements at Lemnos and in his punitive actions against the Pelasgians. Strikingly, they made no mention of Marathon—a silence that speaks volumes about the evolving narrative around that battle.
Though spared execution, Miltiades was fined fifty talents of gold—an enormous sum—for having misled the people. He died soon after from his wound, and it was left to his son, Cimon, to pay the penalty.
Conclusion: Darius, Kingship, and the Afterlife of Imperial Symbols
Darius the Great understood, perhaps more than any of his predecessors, that empire was not eternal but symbolic—that the endurance of his rule would lie not in the permanence of power but in the articulation of ideals. His inscriptions, reliefs, and administrative reforms were crafted not only to glorify his reign but to address future dynasties and posterity. In contrast to the brutal imperial aesthetics of the Assyrians or the subjugating hierarchies of Egyptian art, the Achaemenid vision presented at Persepolis was one of ordered plurality. Here, the peoples of the empire are not humiliated prisoners but dignified envoys bearing tribute—each portrayed with the dignity of cultural distinctiveness and the unity of imperial cohesion.
Margaret Root and others have rightly observed that this visual grammar was revolutionary. It reframed empire not as conquest and humiliation but as harmony under divine mandate—a community of nations upheld by the justice (asha) of Ahura Mazda, stewarded by the king. Darius's inscriptions at Behistun proudly enumerate the twenty-three nations under his rule, emphasizing their distinct identities while embedding them in a shared system of order. The artisans, materials, and symbols used across Persepolis—imported from Egypt, Greece, Elam, and Media—form a physical testament to the interconnectedness of the Achaemenid world and its ambition to transcend parochial power through a universal political ethos.
While Darius I is widely celebrated for his administrative genius, it must be emphasized that his achievements were predicated on the foundational work of Cyrus and Cambyses. Xenophon, in his Cyropaedia, offers a partial yet insightful assessment in attributing the structure of imperial governance to Cyrus himself. It was Cyrus who established the courtly institutions, centralized the imperial elite, laid the basis for the Persian cavalry and army, and envisioned a transregional administrative framework after the conquest of Babylon. He appointed high-ranking officials, imposed financial accountability, and required the nobility to be present at the royal court. Xenophon also attributes to him the creation of the satrapy system, the appointment of imperial inspectors, and the development of a tribute-based economy.
Nevertheless, the Persepolis Fortification Tablets, dating particularly from the thirteenth to twenty-eighth regnal years of Darius, attest to a significant economic expansion and institutional deepening under his reign. At the outset of his rule, Darius governed with a rigor that Greek sources referred to as kapēlos—a term implying a calculating, managerial style of kingship. The economic system that took shape in Persia by the end of the sixth century BC closely resembled the model found in the Neo-Elamite principalities, where the temple had been replaced by the palace as the epicenter of economic control. In this model, a large and specialized bureaucracy operated under the direct supervision of royal officials, managing estates and labor networks on a continental scale. The administrative language of the Achaemenid bureaucracy—Achaemenid Elamite—was a direct continuation of Neo-Elamite, retaining much of its technical and legal vocabulary, and demonstrating continuity with the Susa Acropolis archives of the late seventh century BC.
Yet, the figure of Darius also reveals the contradictions of such imperial ambition. Unlike Cyrus or Cambyses, whose reverence for Mithra permitted a more syncretic religious atmosphere, Darius enforced a purist Zoroastrian orthodoxy. This fundamentalism, reflected in the suppression of Mithraic rituals and the persecution of Magian communities, drove esoteric worship underground—into ruins, caves, and coded teachings. The mysteries of Mithra, once associated with sunlight, justice, and cosmic order, now retreated into symbols and metaphors, safeguarded by poets and mystics.
But what Darius tried to bury did not die. Mithraic motifs would resurface centuries later in the luminous verse of Persian Sufi poets. In Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh, the story of Zahhak—Azhidahak in the Avesta—evokes Mithraic allegories of good and evil, justice and tyranny, through Fereydun's (Thraētaona’s) victory. His nurturing cow recalls the Mithraic bull-slaying (tauroctony), reimagined through epic Iranian mythology. More subtly, Ferdowsi marks Mehrgān, the Day of Mehr, as Fereydun’s coronation, declaring: “Worship of Mehr is his religion.”
This sacred legacy of light, truth, and the inner path of justice flourished in the writings of Attar, Hafiz, and other mystics who found in Mithra not a forgotten god but a symbol of divine presence hidden in the heart. Attar’s “Seven Cities of Love” echoes the seven Mithraic initiations, while Hafiz, writing centuries later, seeks meaning in the ruins of the Magi, declaring:
“That day, the door of meaning opened to my heart;I became a resident of the Pir-e-Moghan’s lodge.”
Thus, while Darius sought to erase Mithra from the outer life of the empire, the deity survived in the interior landscapes of Persian soul and poetry. His empire was a paradox: a monument to tolerance, built by a ruler who was also an enforcer of orthodoxy; a structure of visual harmony, shadowed by religious exclusion. And yet, it was precisely this tension—between justice and control, idealism and reality—that ensured the resonance of Achaemenid kingship across history.
For in Persian memory, the king was never merely a ruler of land, but a steward of meaning. And even when dynasties fell, and temples crumbled, the ideals they claimed to uphold found sanctuary in verse, in vision, and in the enduring light of Mehr—Love.
Yet, the figure of Darius also reveals the contradictions of such imperial ambition. Unlike Cyrus or Cambyses, whose reverence for Mithra permitted a more syncretic religious atmosphere, Darius enforced a purist Zoroastrian orthodoxy. This fundamentalism, reflected in the suppression of Mithraic rituals and the persecution of Magian communities, drove esoteric worship underground—into ruins, caves, and coded teachings. The mysteries of Mithra, once associated with sunlight, justice, and cosmic order, now retreated into symbols and metaphors, safeguarded by poets and mystics.
But what Darius tried to bury did not die. Mithraic motifs would resurface centuries later in the luminous verse of Persian Sufi poets. In Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh, the story of Zahhak—Azhidahak in the Avesta—evokes Mithraic allegories of good and evil, justice and tyranny, through Fereydun's (Thraētaona’s) victory. His nurturing cow recalls the Mithraic bull-slaying (tauroctony), reimagined through epic Iranian mythology. More subtly, Ferdowsi marks Mehrgān, the Day of Mehr, as Fereydun’s coronation, declaring: “Worship of Mehr is his religion.”
This sacred legacy of light, truth, and the inner path of justice flourished in the writings of Attar, Hafiz, and other mystics who found in Mithra not a forgotten god but a symbol of divine presence hidden in the heart. Attar’s “Seven Cities of Love” echoes the seven Mithraic initiations, while Hafiz, writing centuries later, seeks meaning in the ruins of the Magi, declaring:
“That day, the door of meaning opened to my heart;I became a resident of the Pir-e-Moghan’s lodge.”
Thus, while Darius sought to erase Mithra from the outer life of the empire, the deity survived in the interior landscapes of Persian soul and poetry. His empire was a paradox: a monument to tolerance, built by a ruler who was also an enforcer of orthodoxy; a structure of visual harmony, shadowed by religious exclusion. And yet, it was precisely this tension—between justice and control, idealism and reality—that ensured the resonance of Achaemenid kingship across history.
For in Persian memory, the king was never merely a ruler of land, but a steward of meaning. And even when dynasties fell, and temples crumbled, the ideals they claimed to uphold found sanctuary in verse, in vision, and in the enduring light of Mehr—Love.
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