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THE SELEUCID EMPIRE. 358-251 BC. HOUSE OF SELEUCUS

CHAPTER 16.

ACHAEUS

Of all the potentates who bore the name of king in Asia Minor, Achaeus was now the most powerful. He had recovered from Attalus the territory which had belonged to the Seleucid house before its unhappy divisions. His wife, Laodicea, was a daughter of King Mithridates, sister therefore to the Laodicea who was the queen of Antiochus. She was the princess who had been placed in the hands of Antiochus Hierax, and had by him been confided to the care of Logbasis the Selgian. Once more there was a king who could invite the cities to look to Sardis, rather than to Pergamum, for the strong rule which should curb the forces of disorder.

But Attalus, though overborne, was not crushed. His armies had been driven out of the regions they had lately commanded. Except Pergamum nothing was left him. But in Pergamum he maintained himself. And the glamor of his glorious Gallic wars still invested him in the eyes of the Greeks; his influence was too well grounded to disappear even now. When Byzantium was on the point of a war with Rhodes it solicited the help of both princes. It was, however, really Achaeus in these days who counted; and the idea of his supporting the Byzantines was so alarming to the Rhodians that they stretched their influence at the Ptolemaic court to the utmost point in order to procure the release of his father, Andromachus, who had been taken prisoner in one of the late wars. By this move they purchased Achaeus neutrality.

Attalus, so long as he retained the nucleus of his power, continued to be a menace to Achaeus. Nor did Achaeus find an ally in the Bithynian king. Zaelas, whose daughter Antiochus Hierax had married, had been murdered at the time of the Gallic wars by some Galatians in his service; the present King, his son Prusias, was little friendly either to Achaeus or Attalus. The complete victory of either would, he knew, leave him face to face with a strong Hellenic king who would be a most inconvenient neighbor. Meantime, he was extremely glad to see the two Hellenic kings pitted against each other. He was furious with the Byzantines because they had tried to reconcile them. And what Prusias felt was also felt by every petty dynast who ruled in this or that corner of the hills; should Achaeus succeed in framing a strong kingdom in Asia Minor, it would be an evil day for the smaller powers. The Greek cities were devoted to Attalus. Lampsacus, Alexandria Troas and Ilion openly maintained his cause. Smyrna, so faithful in former days to the house of Seleucus, now showed the same fidelity to the Pergamene king, and only yielded to the overwhelming power of Achaeus. Among the other cities which had been constrained to submit to Achaeus, but longed for Attalus, mention is made of Cyme, Phocaea, Teos and Colophon. These circumstances may help to explain why Achaeus did not venture to leave Asia Minor even when the situation in Syria seemed to give him so excellent an opportunity.

In the summer of 218, whilst Antiochus was campaigning in Palestine, Achaeus extended his power in a new direction. He was perhaps determined to be king of Asia Minor indeed, and to deal resolutely with those problems which the disturbed Macedonian rule, no less than the old slipshod Oriental, had hitherto neglected. A serious attempt to subjugate the southern hills was at last made. The opportunity to intervene was given Achaeus by a petty war between Selge and Pednelissus. Selge was the most powerful of those Pisidian mountain-states who waged perpetual war not only with the kings of Asia, but with each other. Pednelissus, finding itself straitly besieged, appealed to King Achaeus. His general, Garsyeris, was at once sent to its relief, and was joined on his appearance by the other communities which were of the anti-Selgian faction in Pisidia, such as the Greek city of Aspendus. Side, on the other hand, held aloof, “partly in order to gain favor with Antiochus, but chiefly because of their enmity with Aspendus”. After a chequered struggle among the hills Garsyeris succeeded in driving the Selgian bands from Pednelissus, and presently laid siege to Selge itself.

There was still living in Selge at this time the man who had been the friend of Antiochus Hierax, and under whose roof the queen of Achaeus had grown up, Logbasis. He was now chosen by his fellow-citizens to open negotiations with the besiegers. In supposing him to be a persona grata with the people of Achaeus they were not wrong; they had, however, mistaken his own inclinations. So soon as he was closeted with Garsyeris he offered to betray the city into the hands of Achaeus.

Garsyeris immediately sent swift messages to bring Achaeus to the spot. And meanwhile he amused the city with deceptive negotiations. Achaeus arrived, and the attempt was made to seize the city by a sudden attack, in which Logbasis and his accomplices had been instructed to co-operate from within. But at a moment as critical as this, the splendid promptitude of the Selgians foiled the plot. The escape nevertheless had been so narrow that they felt the wisdom of coming to terms. They consented to buy peace with a heavy fine and release the Pednelissian prisoners.

It was now that Achaeus spread the terror of his arms through the mountain region between Lycia and Cilicia, breaking the immemorial independence of the warlike tribes. He established his authority over Milyas and the greater part of Pamphylia. But the campaign which extended his power in one direction also showed on what insecure foundations it rested, how ill he could afford to be absent for a moment from his seat of government. His back had hardly been turned when Attalus issued out of Pergamum with a new-come band of Gauls, and was received by the Greek cities generally with open arms. Cyme, Smyrna and Phocaea were the first to join him. Aegae and Temnus did not dare to resist. Teos and Colophon sent their envoys. Attalus made a triumphant promenade through the kingdom of Achaeus, taking on his way the fortress of Didyma-Teiche, which Themistocles, the commander put there by Achaeus, delivered into his hand. He was encamped on the afternoon of September 1, 218 BC (as we should reckon) near the river Megistus (probably the same as the Macestus), when the moon was darkened by an eclipse which, as the shades of evening deepened, became total. The Gallic bands, who had already been grumbling at the labor of a march which involved lugging their women and children along with them in wagons, were terrified. They clamored to be allowed to return to Europe, and Attalus was obliged to promise that they should be conducted to the Hellespont. If he had had any design of proceeding farther, it had to be abandoned. He returned to Pergamum. His expedition had at any rate dealt a blow to the power and prestige of Achaeus in the north-west.

When Achaeus returned with fresh laurels from the Pisidian hills the war between Sardis and Pergamum was resumed, and went on without a break till the Seleucid King at last appeared in the land to claim his own.

In the summer of 216 Antiochus led across the Taurus the army he had spent the last year in preparing. It was the first time that he stood as king in this land which his house had striven so long to possess, but which, as he found it now, was parceled out among five kings, a number of smaller dynasts, the house of Ptolemy, the free Greek cities, and the mountain tribes. In the person of Antiochus III the house of Seleucus makes its crowning attempt to master Asia Minor. It was at Achaeus alone that for the present his attack was directed. And in making it he had two things mainly in his favor. One was the hold which the Seleucid name had upon the Macedonian soldiery. The other was the mutual hostility of those powers which had divided the Seleucid inheritance amongst them. When the last Seleucid king, Antiochus’ brother, had crossed the Taurus, Attalus was the enemy; today Attalus and Antiochus were ready to combine against Achaeus. Achaeus apparently had no friend but Egypt, and Egypt under Ptolemy IV was more the broken reed than ever. “Their strength is to sit still”.

Of the course of the war no record is preserved. When the darkness breaks Achaeus has been driven from the field. Sardis alone remains to him. To this almost impregnable city Antiochus is laying siege (214). Then the story acquires for a moment peculiar vividness.

An incessant series of skirmishes, assaults and stratagems had led to no result The besiegers were resigning themselves to the distant prospect of reducing the city by starvation. But the general discouragement was not shared by Lagoras the Cretan. He was convinced that a way could be found of entering the city. Its very strength would put the defenders off their guard, and its most precipitous points be the most remissly guarded. With this fixed idea his eyes day by day studied the ramparts. There was at one place a ravine, into which the besieged shot their refuse, and the Cretan observed that when the birds rose from it they habitually settled upon the rocks and masonry above; there then was no neighborhood of men. At night he would clamber about those rocks, scrutinizing every spot where foot or ladder could hold. At last his scheme was complete, and he carried it to the King. Antiochus approved the enterprise, and allowed him to take as his associates in command Theodotus the Aetolian and Dionysius, the commander of the hypaspistai. A night was chosen when there would be no moon in the hours before dawn. Fifteen men had been picked in the evening from the whole army to go up with the three and set the ladders. Another thirty had been chosen to wait a little way below. As soon as the fifteen had cleared the wall they were to beset a certain door from within; the thirty were to rush up and hack at the hinges and lintel withou.t A third body of 2000 men were to hold themselves in readiness still further in the rear to dash through the door as soon as it was opened, and occupy the theatre. In order that these dispositions might not set the camp talking it was given out that, according to intelligence received, a reinforcing body of Aetolians would shortly attempt to enter the city by one of the ravines, and it was necessary to have special pickets on the alert.

By night, as soon as the moon was down, the several parties took their stations under the cliffs. When morning broke, the camp observed no change in the ordinary routine : the outposts were relieved as usual and the army assembled for parade in the hippodrome outside the city. But as Lagoras and Dionysius mounted their ladders they came into view of those below, although not of those above, and soon the figures on the dizzy cliff attracted general attention. The excitement in the camp, the upward stare, were observed by the watchers in the city, but Achaeus was only mystified and uneasy. He nevertheless detailed a body of soldiers to reinforce the wall at the part pointed at, but the passage thither being steep and narrow, it took a long time to reach it.

Meanwhile Antiochus, apprehensive that the stir among the troops might betray the design, made a diversion by attacking the “Persian Gate” on the opposite side of the city. And the movement succeeded. Aribazus, the governor of the city, drew his garrison thither to meet it, manned the wall, and made a sortie to engage the attacking columns. Then the door on the cliff was forced; the two thousand occupied the theatre. Aribazus was taken between two enemies; in his haste to re-enter the city he could not prevent the body which he had engaged entering with him. The Persian Gate was captured, and soon through the neighboring gates as well the besiegers were pouring in. There was, of course, no hope now of saving the town; Aribazus and his troops withdrew, after a short struggle, into the citadel. Once more in its history Sardis was given up to massacre, pillage and devastation.

Achaeus still held out with a handful of troops in the citadel. But he was in a trap. His only hope lay now in the chance of getting through the lines of the besiegers by surprise or stealth, and making good his escape to the hills or to Egyptian territory. Egypt, though it would not take overt action to save him, was still not indifferent to his fate.

A little while after the capture of the lower city of Sardis two men were closeted in a chamber in Alexandria. One was the prime minister of Egypt, Sosibius; the other was a Cretan condottiere in the service of King Ptolemy, called Bolis. Sosibius had for some time been narrowly observing his man. His examination had satisfied him; now he spoke. “My friend, your fortune with the King is made if you can get Achaeus out of his predicament. The means would be left to your own contrivance. Will you undertake it?” When Bolis answered, it was to ask for time to turn it over. Then the two men separated.

In two or three days they were again together. Bolis undertook the adventure. He then went on to tell Sosibius of a promising circumstance. Cambylus, who commanded the Cretan corps in the army of Antiochus, was not only the countryman of Bolis, but his intimate friend. The prime minister caught eagerly at the possibilities conveyed. He congratulated himself on his choice of an instrument “If there is any one”, he exclaimed, “who can extricate Achaeus, I have him here!”.

It remained only to arrange certain details. For money, Bolis must understand the Egyptian court would see to that; here were ten talents out of hand, and unlimited sums to follow. Certain letters he would have to carry with him. Sosibius held in his hand the thread of old negotiations between Sardis and Alexandria. The letters would put Bolis into connection with one Nicomachus in Rhodes, and with Melancomas in Ephesus. These men had been the confidential agents of Achaeus in former days. Nicomachus was believed to love him as a son. All was soon settled. With an assured heart Sosibius saw his instrument launched upon his dark errand.

Bolis disembarked at Rhodes, concerted plans with Nicomachus, and proceeded to Ephesus. Here he duly came into touch with Melancomas. The next step was to communicate with Cambylus, the commander of Antiochus’ Cretans. Bolis wished to meet him in absolute secrecy. A subordinate therefore whom he had with him, called Arianus, was dispatched to the camp before Sardis. He was to tell Cambylus that his friend Bolis had just landed at Ephesus on a recruiting commission for King Ptolemy, and that there were one or two matters he should like to discuss with Cambylus privately. Arianus reached Sardis to find that Cambylus and the Cretan corps, by what seemed an extraordinary piece of luck, had been detached to guard one of the approaches of the citadel where the ground did not admit the regular barricades. He delivered his message. Cambylus lent a ready ear. Certainly, if Bolis would come to such and such a place at such an hour of a night he named, Cambylus would be there to moot him. This Arianus carried back.

The night came, and two Cretan captains talked in secret together under the citadel of Sardis. One was the agent of Ptolemy, the other in the employ of Antiochus, but in solitude together they made light of such transitory engagements, and remembered only that they were Cretans, whose business in life was simply to do the best for themselves. Bolis revealed the whole lie of the business to his friend, showed him the letter he bore from the Egyptian court, and put it plainly to him to consider how they could best turn the immense issues which lay in their hands to their own profit. They would act together—that was understood. The only question was, should Bolis betray Ptolemy and Achaeus, or should Cambylus betray Antiochus? The fate of kings and the destiny of nations was being decided that night by the whispers of the two condottieri under the stars.

It was decided that the richest harvest could be reaped by immediately sharing the ten talents given by Sosibius, and then making Antiochus the offer to possess him of the person of Achaeus. Cambylus was to explain things to Antiochus; Bolis was to open communications with Achaeus. The way in which Bolis intended to proceed was, first to send his subordinate Arianus into the citadel to carry to Achaeus letters in cypher from Nicomachus and Melancomas. Cambylus, of course, was to see to it that Arianus passed safely to and fro through the Seleucid lines. If Achaeus put faith in these letters he would reply, and then Bolis would tender his services and lure him into the snare. Such was the arrangement.

Each of the Cretans now set about his part. Cambylus obtained an interview with Antiochus and told him what was on foot. To Antiochus it seemed too good to be true. Of course, if they captured Achaeus, no reward would be too great, but he suspected something tricky in the business and probed every detail of their designs. It all held together. At last Antiochus doubted no more, and was simply beside himself with impatience to see the astonishing plan carried through.

Meantime Bolis had gone back to Melancomas at Ephesus, radiant. He and Nicomachus would be delighted to hear that Cambylus was quite willing to join them. Bolis proposed to send Arianus at once into the citadel to apprise Achaeus that his deliverance was at hand. Only he must carry credentials from the men whom Achaeus trusted. Nicomachus and Melancomas made no difficulty about that. Letters were drawn up in cypher which informed Achaeus who the bearer was, and told him that he might have complete faith in Bolis and Cambylus.

These letters Arianus carried through, Cambylus conveying him. It had been thought prudent not to tell Arianus the real plot, but allow him to suppose that he was being employed in the original design of rescuing Achaeus. He was shown into the presence of Achaeus and delivered his letters. Achaeus read them through. This man who brought them was strange to him; the men to whom he was asked to commit his person and life were no friends of his; one of them was actually in the service of his enemy; but here beyond doubt were the hands of Nicomachus and Melancomas. Achaeus cross-questioned Arianus narrowly. And having been employed by Bolis from the beginning, and being himself innocent of treachery, Arianus was able to face Achaeus with self-possession and give a full and satisfactory answer to all his interrogations. The issues were too tremendous for rashness, and Achaeus was not new to the world, but the unexpected door of hope seemed worth trying further. Achaeus would correspond with his friends without. So Arianus carried back an answer. This was replied to, and Achaeus wrote again, Arianus being still the intermediary. At last Achaeus came to a decision. He would put himself into the hands of these men. It was, at any rate, his only chance left. His idea, if he could once escape from the toils, was to make a dash upon Syria and call the Greek and Macedonian colonies to revolt. He conceived that in Phoenicia, Coele-Syria and in Antioch itself there would be many to welcome his appearance.

Achaeus wrote finally to Melancomas. Let Bolis and Arianus present themselves on a certain night be named, when there would be no moon, and he would commit himself to them. Before that night came Bolis was again with Cambylus under the stars at some lonely spot near the Seleucid camp. They had now to arrange every detail of the capture. Their plan was as follows. If Achaeus came out of the citadel alone, or with a single attendant, it would be simple; he would fall an easy prey. But if he came with a retinue—there was the problem. Antiochus made a great point of his being captured alive. It was therefore arranged that in descending the path from the citadel Arianus should go first, since he had been over the ground so often, Achaeus next, and Bolis immediately behind him. Then, when the spot was reached where Cambylus would be waiting with an ambush, Bolis would leap upon Achaeus and bold him fast, so that he should not dive into the scrub and slip away, or, supposing he were desperate, throw himself down the cliff.

It was still dark when Cambylus returned to the tents, bringing Bolis with him. He was now to be presented to the King. They went together, and no fourth person was admitted to the interview. When they came out of the royal tent it was not the fault of Antiochus if Bolis had failed to conceive the immensity of the rewards which awaited him. As it grew near dawn Bolis went up with Arianus and entered into the citadel.

Achaeus at last saw his deliverer, and he gave him a suitable welcome. A little converse left him no doubt as to the caliber of this Cretan captain as a man of action. And his hopes rose wildly as the time approached. Then again there were moments when the horrible magnitude of his hazard swept over him. If Bolis were false? Two strong wits were indeed matched, and Achaeus had yet to make a move on which Bolis had not calculated. Bolis was suddenly informed that Achaeus found it after all impossible for him to leave at the time arranged; he wished, however, to send certain of his friends, some three or four men, with Bolis, in order that they might communicate with Melancomas. After that Achaeus would prepare to come himself. In this way did Achaeus strive, as Polybius says, to “out-Cretan a Cretan”.

The night came. Achaeus ordered Bolis and Arianus to go on ahead and wait outside the door from which the precipitous path ran down; the friends he was dispatching would duly present themselves. All this time Achaeus had kept his intended venture from his wife Laodicea. He had now to break it to her and take his leave. His last moments in the citadel were spent in the terrible farewell, in his endeavors to soothe and encourage the queen, who was naturally beside herself with the shock. Then he started for the gate with four companions.

After Bolis and Arianus had waited some time outside, five men issued from the gate. They were all in common garments. One spoke for the rest and explained that his four attendants were barbarians and did not understand Greek. Then they all began the descent, Arianus leading and Bolis bringing up the rear.

For this Bolis had not been prepared. Was Achaeus of the party or not? He had scrutinized the faces of the five, but it was too dark to distinguish any features. The whole success of Achaeus' plan now hung upon his keeping Bolis mystified till they had reached safety. The fault of his companions betrayed him. When they came to very steep and breakneck places in the descent, some of the men instinctively gave their king a hand or grasped him from behind. These momentary movements did not escape the lynx eyes which watched from the rear. Suddenly Bolis whistled. Cambylus and his party leapt from their ambush. Bolis threw his arms about Achaeus, clothes and all, so that he could not free his hands from his cloak. He had indeed a knife girt upon him, ready in case of capture. Even this Bolis had guessed.

Antiochus had spent an evening of impatient suspense. His suite had been at last dismissed and he sat alone in his tent, only two or three of the bodyguard in attendance. Suddenly the party of Cambylus came softly in out of the darkness and set a man upon the ground, tied hand and foot.

“The suddenness and strangeness of it so overwhelmed Antiochus that for a long time no voice came. At last, touched in some human fiber, he broke into tears. And his emotion, I take it, was inspired by seeing how impossible to guard against, how incalculable, are the surprises of destiny. This Achaeus was the son of Andromachus, who was brother to Laodicea, Seleucus’ queen; he was the husband of Laodicea, the daughter of Mithridates the King, and he had held in his hand the whole country this side of the Taurus. And now at a time when all his forces and the forces of his enemy believed him to be lodged in the strongest place of the world, he sat bound upon the earth, the sport of his foes, whilst no single creature as yet knew the truth, except those who had had a hand in the deed”-Polybius.

When the “Friends” assembled at daybreak, according to custom, in the royal tent, they were no less overwhelmed than the King had been at the sight that met them—the bound man upon the ground. Antiochus held a council on the doom of the rebel. His first generous emotion did not hold, or he was overborne by his advisers. Achaeus, in accordance with the Council's vote, was first mutilated, then beheaded. The head was sewn up in the skin of an ass, the trunk hung upon a cross. In the punishment of rebels the Seleucid King kept, as in the case of Molon, to the Oriental tradition.

In the citadel no one but Laodicea knew of Achaeus’ going forth. Next day the tumult and signs of rejoicing descried in the enemy's camp told her that the venture had failed. Presently a herald presented himself, announced her husband’s fate, and ordered her to make immediate dispositions to evacuate the citadel. It was the first intimation that the defenders of the citadel had that their king was gone. A great cry ran through the place, a cry less of grief than horror at the terrible unexpectedness of the blow. But the demand for surrender was repelled. Laodicea held desperately on. It was, of course, only a question of a short time. Factions broke out among the defenders. A party headed by Aribazus, the old governor of the city, refused to obey the queen. Then each party surrendered, lest the other should be beforehand in doing so (213). The Seleucid King held the western capital of his ancestors.

The ancient historian cannot avoid moralizing on the fate of Achaeus. “In two ways he is a not unprofitable lesson for times to come; we are taught first to be slow to put our trust in any one; secondly, not to glory in prosperity, but to be ready for all chances, remembering we are but men”- Polybius.