Theós Epiphanḗs – Anagénnēsē tōn Seleukidṓn - Take Two

Hello everyone! I do apologize for my long absence from my timeline, as I have been going over a number of logistical details having to do with it over the past month or so. That having been said, the changes I have made may not even matter, as it would seem that we could be headed into a very serious international conflict, at which time I might find myself so overwhelmed with the nature of the situation that I will be unable to write at all. But! For now, I have included a short recap, as well as a spoiler, and changed some things up in some of the updates to include a little bit more elaboration on the nature of matters, particularly concerning the development of Roman politics. So, I hope you all enjoy...
 
Preface


I feel like it is worth noting the way certain things are going to be written in this timeline, as there will be a little bit of a learning curve in terms of anthroponyms, hydronyms, and toponyms, as well as certain pseudo-historical aspects that beg explanation. First and foremost, as far as naming is concerned, I will be writing names out as they were said at the time, to the best of my knowledge. The reason being of course, that, at least in my mind, to write them out the way that we would in English today, or any modern language for that matter, would be to do so in a language that will never be spoken in the timeline. Certainly, I have to write the timeline itself in English and not some conlang for it to be intelligible to you the readers, but this doesn’t mean that we can’t adopt a certain degree of “local color” in seeing the names as they were at the time, and as they will evolve as time goes on. This of course requires an enormous amount of research on my part that goes together with the research to detail the historical/geographical context of the events I will be positing, particularly when the names of individuals that belonged to ethnic groups that did not leave us extensive written records are being dealt with. This can involve a degree of conjecture on my part, given that the degree to which I or any other researcher can reconstruct the sounds of ancient languages is limited by the data that we have. So, while I have poured at least a week’s worth of research into compiling an etymological onomasticon of Archaic Irish names for example, my reconstructions, while the best effort I can give, are not necessarily precisely historical. Furthermore, it is important to note that in any language, names of people and places may come and go with time, and for those more sparsely attested languages, it is rather probable that a large inventory of names came and went entirely unattested, and so it is with a great deal of conjecture and artistic license that I have gone about constructing whole series of names for different languages.


Such conjecture and artistic license extends to certain languages of the period, which similarly came and went entirely unattested, or only sparsely attested. Such languages as Thracian, Dacian, Illyrian (itself probably a group of languages or a dialect continuum), Paeonian, Scytho-Sarmatian, Vistula Venetic, Venetic, Liburnian, Pre-Irish, Lusitanian, Celtiberian, Sicanian, Siculian, Elymian, Etruscan, Pisidian, Carian, Sidetic, Lycian, Mariandynian, Paphlagonian, Isaurian, Lycaonian, and Cappadocian, and a host of others, may require some con-langing on my part to reconstruct names of people and places for the period. Likewise, the development of certain well-attested languages of the period might be altered by the course of events within the timeline.


This conjecture and artistic license may also extend to certain persons whose names did not make it into the historical record, which may include soldiers, government officials, or even members of royal families. Finally, it may also extend to religious and cultural practices and matters of economy and finance. Certainly, I will be sticking to the historical record as best that I can, and I tend to pour over certain subjects for hours before writing a sentence about them. However, as I am sure many of you are aware, there are wide holes in the historical record that require filling for the purpose of writing alternate history.


So, without further a due, I will now jump into the abyss of your criticism…
 
Prologue


Two weeks ago today, the army discovered yet another house of debauchery in the hills where young men both Hellan and barbarian, were found to be involved in crimes of most unspeakable nature against young women of barbarian origin. Certainly, I know that many who will read this proclamation will protest my use of the word “barbarian” in such a context, as this word has long had a foul taste in the mouths of Hellanes, particularly in this country, who have been devoted to the inclusion of non-Hellanes in our society, but I would counter these protests with the statement that the use of this word is warranted in the context of a people so utterly uncivilized as to treat their own women in such a manner.


“You can not deny that some of the men involved were indeed Hellanes, even soldiers nonetheless!” You might say, and truly, I cannot. Though it is indeed one thing for a Hellan, spoiled from the riches of centuries of wealth to make in his mind an animal of another race whose plight he does not share. “She is not as I am.” He might say to himself, and such is among the most basic inclinations of men; to favor those who he sees as more similar to himself. I would therefore put forth the argument that it is another thing entirely to look upon a young woman who is of your own race and treat her worse than one would treat an animal set apart for slaughter. Surely, a shepherd does not burn the lamb between its thighs before slaughtering it for a roast, and yet it would appear that this was among the lesser of the cruelties inflicted on the young women found in this house of debauchery in the hills.


So, I would ask you: is it not barbarian in nature to look upon your own people and commit such crimes upon them? Surely, these young women shared the plight of their perpetrators, likely having lost their fathers in the seemingly unending inter-tribal conflicts over the plunder of Sożana and Krasmeia, and subsequently ended up destitute, wandering a country where at any moment they might find themselves enslaved or murdered. It is of course for precisely this reason that our youth demand that we invite these people not only into our country, as has already been done, but into our cities, as if somehow touching the paved streets of Iskát or Tustaurou will wipe them clean of the inclinations instilled within them in the most formative years of their youth, born from the violence, corruption, and the general social instability of their surroundings.


They say that it was not enough to allow some of them to wander the uncultivated pastures of the countryside with their cattle and their horses, but that we must bring more, and closer to home. I say that if the claims of the youth and the pseudo-intellectuals that guide their palpable young minds were true, that if they had but had the chance to live under the rule of law that they would change their ways, we would have seen this already. It was nigh 40 years ago that we allowed the first of them to enter the Valley of the Żaxartas, and in 40 years they have only brought the instability of their own country into ours. Vyřdéfsis Strátu put forth the question at the time: can we not learn a lesson from the past? Surely, when the Jarvangeidai invited the Verniassoi into Ařana after they had fled the Sárbares, did the guest not dismantle the home of the host? Though, I would put forth the question to you now: is the guest not presently dismantling the home of the host?


Since these Żokhtasoi were allowed to cross into this country, their fatherless boys have grown into predatory men, who roam the countryside in itinerant gangs, robbing farms and caravans alike, and then selling their stolen wares to their fellows who serve in our armies and are tasked with defending our borders as per the original agreement of their entry. In turn, these “loyal soldiers” of our state trade these stolen wears with fellows of their own race on the other side of the border for women, whom they hide in houses in the hills like the one recently discovered, where the most debased acts are committed upon them. It is no secret what these men are up to, one need only ask them, such is the impotence of our soldiers and our police, who can do nothing for fear that a certain segment of the population, both Hellan and not, will rise up in fury against them! I must ask: was this sort of lawlessness known in our country before? Was it the case that gangs of young men roamed the land like wolves on the prowl, trading what was stolen at the point of a sword for women of their own kind whom they kept hidden away to maim and rape? Do not think to answer me unless you wish to do so honestly, for it is no answer to my question to counter with the statement that Lexandrus Megas and his armies violently conquered, subjugated, and absorbed the ancient inhabitants of this country. Such an answer is an attempt to defraud the question and move the discussion to the question of whether or not an entire race of people can be held responsible for the actions of their forebears. I am not asking that you recall crimes a thousand years past, rather I ask you to look at the condition of our country today.


I say that the results of this test are clear, and that there is no evidence that inviting the Żokhtasoi into our cities will result in anything less than we have seen already. Furthermore, the legion of them now camped along our border who are demanding entry must be denied. We must remember that the prosperity of our nation was only achieved because our forefathers, after having spent considerable blood and treasure, made it a nation of laws. I implore you to remember the words of Čenjerza at Pankapażu, “... if the integrity of your laws and your customs are so light as to rest on such whimsical pity, then any man can act such an animal as I and cast them down.”


- The Taylor’s Proclamation, 1416




Notes


- As you might have guessed, the word Hellan is a descendant of the word Hellēn, referring to Hellenes or those who consider themselves to be such.

- The names Sożána and Krasméia refer to Sogdiana and Chorasmia.

- The names Iskát and Tustáurou are from Eskhátē and toû-Stauroû, the names of OTL modern Khujand, and a city near modern Tashkent, so named (originally Hēliókleia-toû-Stauroû, or “Hēliókleia on the cross”) for its position on the Syr Darya and Chiriq rivers.

- The hydronym Żaxártas is a contemporary rendering of Iaxártēs, the Ancient Greek name of the Syr Darya.

- The name Vyrzdéfsis Strátu is a contemporary for of byrsodépsis “tanner” and Ancient Greek Strátōn, a dynastic personal name among the Euthydemid kings of Greco-Bactria and India.

- The ethnonym Sárbares refers to the Xianbei.

- The ethnonym Żokhtasoi, which is a broad term that refers to a pan-ethnicity of Ugric peoples, is from a Ugric word meaning “archer”. Compare OTL Modern Hungarian íjasz.

- The Jarvangéidai were a particularly influencial dynasty in OTL Iran some centuries before The Taylor’s Proclomation was printed. An explanation of the nature of their influence as well as the nature of the country in which it was wielded will have to wait until later in the timeline, though.

- The term Verniássoi is the contemporary pronunciation in the language of the author of the Hellenization of a hypothetical Tocharian ethnonym – Wïrnaśśi – meaning “people of the crow”, based on the hypothesis that the Chinese ethnonym 烏孫 (Wūsūn) represents a translation of the tribal name.

- The toponym Ařana is contemporary pronunciation in the language of the author of the contemporary Persian word Arān, with palatalization of /r/ having let to the development of a voiced alveolar fricative trill, as in OTL Modern Czech.

- As you might have guessed, Lexandrus Megas is the contemporary pronunciation in the language of the author of Aléxandros ho Mégas.

- I will leave the origins of the personal name Čenjerza up to all of you to speculate, but the toponym Pankapażu is the contemporary pronunciation… in the language of the author… of the name Pantikápaion, the ancient capital of the Bosporan Kingdom. Make of that what you will, because I don’t want to spoil any more of this…

- Finally, it is worth noting that time is being recorded in this timeline by the Seleucid Era, at least in the part of the world that this documented was issued, which means that the year 1416 corresponds to the OTL year of 1102 CE.
 
Recap


If you had traveled to the ancient country of Asíā in the 149th Year of the Héllēnes, the very method of recording time might have seemed obsolete. Truly, the ruling dynasty of the country - which could accurately be described as little more than a military despotism exacting its presence over the native population of the country - was recording time based on the grandeur of a period that seemed to be coming to a close. Aléxandros ho Mégas, increasingly known in the distant lands of the West as Alexander Magnus, had crossed the Hellḗspontos into what at the time had been the dominion of the Haxāmanišiya fully 170 years earlier, though the Seleukídai recorded the years as beginning after the reconquest of Babylṓn by Séleukos I Nikátōr after his exile in Aígyptos. The method of recording the years had been a powerful piece of state propaganda in the past that had served not only to legitimize the authority of the ruling dynasty, but also the supremacy of Hellenistic civilization in the many countries that made up the Kingdom of Asíā that were oriental in background. Surely, to the contemporary Asian peasant it seemed as though the supremacy of the Seleukídai was absolute, but to others - particularly those in wealthier and more connected circles in the country - it seemed that it might have only been a matter of time before rising stars outshined the sun.


Two such rising stars threatened the absolute rule of the Seleukídai, though one certainly burned far brighter than the other at present. In the distant West had arisen a power from a previously obscure country that had recently not only interjected itself into the affairs of the Héllēnes directly, but it had brutally subjugated the parent-country of the Seleukídai and of Aléxandros ho Mégas himself. That power, was known to its own as the Rēs Pūblica Rōmāna, and not only had it laid waste the parent-country of the Asian kings’ foundational homeland and paraded that country’s king down the streets of their own city as the prize of war, but it had also forced them to sign a rather humiliating peace treaty that had arguably left them vulnerable to the other, albeit dimmer star of the two - the Aršaka of Parthía.


The Rōmānī had been able to accomplish this due to a combination of military acumen on their own part, and poor leadership on the part of their enemies. Specifically, it had been the father of the incumbent Lord of Asíā, Antíokhos III Basileús Mégas, who had suffered a series of major defeats in both Hellā́s and Anatolḗ that had cost the country all territories west of the Taûros Mountains. However, the treaty signed, the so-called Peace of Apámeia, had further stipulated that the Lord of Asíā had to hand over the war elephants in his army, that the navy be limited to a mere 12 warships (unless attacked), that 20 hostages to be changed every third year had to be sent to Rōma, that the Asiānoí could not recruit mercenaries from Roman territory nor entertain fugitives from it, and that the monarchy pay a devastating indemnity of 15,000 Euboic tálanta to the Rēs Pūblica Rōmāna. Furthermore, the devastating nature of the military defeats suffered, first at Thermopýlai, then at Eurymédōn, then Myōnéssos, and finally at Magnesía-tou-Sipýlou, had ensured that the Seleukídai would pay their debts, lest they risked the wrath of the rising star that had now established itself not merely as a power, but the power of the Mesógeios. Though the government of this city represented itself as a democratic institution, its victories in Hellā́s and Makedōnía had brought into its possession the treasures of the kings, and the once small city-state was now well on its way to becoming an imperial power, and eclipsing the absolute rule of the Kings of Asíā.


The expansion of the Rēs Pūblica Rōmāna had also spurred developments in the far east, where the dimmer, yet increasingly bright star of Parthía shined. While the Seleukídai had lost control of their easternmost territories fully 92 years earlier when Diódotos I Sōtḗr had wrested independence of Baktrianḗ from the incumbent Lord of Asíā, Antíokhos II Theós, they had also lost control of the stratēgíā of Parthía when the rebellious stratēgós Andragóras (Narisanka) had declared his independence following Diódotos. Andragóras, a native Parthawi, was himself overthrown by invading barbarian tribesmen under a certain Aršak I, whose descendant, the incumbent king Mihrdāt I now threatened the territorial integrity of the Seleukídai in the country of Ariyān. Fearing the collapse of his dominion after his defeat at Magnesía-tou-Sipýlou, Antíokhos III had signed a peace treaty with the Aršaka and recognized the legitimacy of their independent rule. This policy had been continued by his elder son, Séleukos IV Philpátōr, who had maintained the peace of a state founded upon the military acumen of its kings so as to maintain the shaky balance of power between the rising stars in the east and west, and the sun that now shined a little dimmer between them. It was into this delicate situation that Séleukos’ younger brother, Antíokhos III asserted himself as Lord of Asíā, an unruly country that could be said to have been on the very precipice of destruction.
 
Hoi Sōtêres Tês Asíās Kaí Tês Hellā́dos


It could indeed be said that the winter of the year 149[1] (164-163) was a turbulent one for the Seleukídai dynasty. Having recently reduced Armenía the year before, Antíokhos IV Epiphanḗs had fallen terribly ill in the autumn and would remain so until the summer which had put the much-anticipated campaign against the Aršaka on hiatus. The celebration of the reconquest of Baktrianḗ by the king’s maternal cousin, Eukratídēs[2], almost seemed premature, and the stability of the state hung in the balance. While the treasury was indeed full, the army fully replenished and growing monthly with young male immigrants from Hellenistic Anatolḗ and Hellā́s herself, the Rōmānī still held Hellā́s, and the nephew of the king, Demḗtrios, whose claim to the throne was not only legitimate, but doubtless believed the rumors that had been spoon-fed to him that his younger brother had been murdered by his uncle[3]. And yet, by the autumn of the following year, a grandiose military demonstration even more elaborate and luxurious than the one put on in Dáphnē just a few years before was held at Babylṓn[4] to celebrate the defeat of the Aršaka and the public execution of their king, Mihrdāt. The victory had been achieved by a pincer move against the Aršaka, overseen by Eukratídēs and Antíokhos jointly, the so-called ‘Saviors of Asia’, with the former closing in from the east and the latter from the west, which extended the lands of the Seleukídai from Kilikía to Alexándreia Eskhátē[5]. With the Aršaka reduced, Antíokhos again turned his attention westward, after his provincial governors in Syría had proved unable to quell what had begun as a guerilla revolt over taxation and had boiled over into a religious conflict between the Yǝhudim - an unruly people of southwestern Syría - and their suzerains[6]. The region was of course important as a gateway to Aígyptos, where Antíokhos had had his eyes for some time. Indeed, he had attempted to assert his power there previously, as the once great dynasty of Ptolemaîos I Sōtḗr had been reduced to an unstable state of squabbling siblings, barely able to pay the expenses of the grandeur they lived in. Truly, if the Seleukídai were to maintain their unquestioned supremacy in Asíā, they were going to have to contend with the Rōmānī again at some point, for while the latter pretended as though they had no interests in the east, their intent on increasing their influence in Aígyptos could not have been made more clear years earlier when Gāius Popillius Laenas had so arrogantly drawn a circle around Antíokhos, stating that should he have remained in the country, he would have incurred the wrath of the Roman Senātus - the most powerful branch of the Roman government. Antíokhos had ceded Aígyptos of course because his most important plans had been in the east, and now that he had accomplished those plans and celebrated his victory in his official (though not functional) capital, it was time to repay old debts. Naturally, the insult of a former friend in Ītalia, Gāius Popilius Laenas, had not been forgotten, and immediately following the suppression of the Jewish guerillas, Antíokhos entered Aígyptos with full force, and swiftly defeated his grand-nephews, Ptolemaîos VI Philomḗtōr and Ptolemaîos VIII Euergétēs, reducing their domains to Ptolemaḯs Hermaíou and the region of Kyrēnaïkḗ respectively, while their sister, Kleopátra II, was still to rule Alexándreia.


The Rōmānī of course feared the very real possibility of a large-scale rebellion in Hellā́s, as those boys who had been on the cusp of manhood during the Tertium Duellum Mācedonicum were now grown, and they might not be able to put down such a revolt and make good on their ultimatum to Antíokhos on Aígyptos successively. Furthermore, while Séleukos IV Philpátōr had made a point of abiding by the terms of the Peace of Apámeia, his younger brother Antíokhos had made a point of deliberately ignoring them. Since the start of his reign, he had been hiring mercenaries from Hellā́s and the Anatolian domains of the Kingdom of Pérgamon, a close Roman ally, and accepting migrants from both regions en masse, as well as rebuilding his fleet well in excess of 12 warships. Likewise, any invasion of Kilikía by way of the domains of Pérgamon might now see Pontian and Kappadokian resistance, as Antíokhos had allied himself with both monarchs by way of marriage, controversially taking the princess Nýssa of Póntos[7] as his wife, and marrying his widowed niece Laodíkē V, to Ariaráthēs V of Kappadokía[8]. Therefore, they sought to negotiate with the Lord of Asíā, who received them in Naukratis, though his much unexpected demands went far beyond what the Roman senate was willing to offer. The king’s price, was a two-thirds price hike on grain shipments to Rōma from Aígyptos, the return of all political hostages from Hellā́s, Makedōnía (including the sons of King Perseús), the 150,000 Molossian slaves[9], any and all enslaved Makedṓnes, and his nephew, Dēmḗtrios, whom he intended to make the stratēgós of Parthía. In return, the Rōmānī would be allowed to maintain their hegemony in Hellā́s and Illyrís, provided that the Makedonian monarchy be reinstated under Aléxandros VI, who was now a hostage in Ītalia. For every Molossos or Makedṓn that could not be returned, the king demanded a Euboic tálanton of silver, with two-thirds of each tálanton to be paid to the Molossian people themselves, and a third to the Lord of Asíā as a royalty imposed for his generosity[10].


Certainly, such demands were far beyond the capacity of the Rōmānī to accept, for reasons of honor as well as logistics. The 150,000 Molossoi and however many Makedṓnes had been sold as slaves to various owners across Ītalia and Hispānia. Even if the Rōmānī could find most of them, which was logistically impossible, they had not discriminated in age when they had enslaved them, and some of the elderly had died on the journey to Ītalia, while others still had been sent to work in mines and large agricultural estates and had surely died. Thus, entertaining the notion that the Rōmānī could muster 100,000 of them, they would still find themselves 50,000 tálanta in debt – an impossible fee. Surely, the king had only imposed such a demand in the first place to rally the people of Hellā́s against Rōma, a process which had already been started, as the king’s agents had been sent to Akhāḯā, Aitōlía, and the cities of Krḗtē. Likewise, the Third Makedonian War was a war that, from a Roman perspective, had been started by Makedonian aggression, and honor compelled them to maintain their position as the arbiters of justice in Hellā́s. When asked by his former friend, Popillius Laenas, what had provoked his sudden aggression toward Rōma given his capitulation to the demands of the Senātus years past, the king is said to have replied by paraphrasing a certain quote from Phílippos II, “I did not capitulate, but I retired, as rams do, in order that I could make a more vigorous attack the next time.”[11]


After the Roman emissaries had gone home, Antíokhos then marched through Kyrēnaïkḗ into the lands of the Inumiden[12], annexing the cities of the coast until he reached a city that was known to the Héllēnes as Léptis, but to the locals as Labqi. From here, he sent an embassy to the governing body of Qart-Ḥadašt, the Zeqenim[13], promising them full independence and freedom from Roman oversight in return for their aid. The news of this trespass drew panic in the Senātus, particularly among the affiliates of Mārcus Porcius Catō Māior, who insisted on the importance not only of caging the “lion of Asíā” but also of destroying an ancient enemy that had he had fought in his youth - Qart-Ḥadašt. However, the alliances spun by Antíokhos in Anatolḗ rendered a campaign in that region mirroring the victories of Lūcius Cornelius Scīpiō Asiāticus impractical, and so rather than cross the Hellḗspontos, the Rōmānī turned their attention to the war in Libýē, which proved a fatal mistake, as a sizable portion of the fleet that set sail was sank in a storm. The Rōmānī were not certain of course of the alliance between their ancient rivals and the Seleukídai, but rather only knew that a large Seleukidian army was on its way across Libýē and feared the worst. Certainly, they might have invaded Syría from Hellā́s and ravaged the cities of Héllēnes there, but given that it was winter, such a voyage might not have been possible, and if they had held back, the Lord of Asíā would have had time to build a fleet in Libýē to cross into Sicilia the following year. The risk in crossing the sea to Libýē therefore, was one that they saw as worth taking, however disastrous it proved to be. Still, those troops that made it ashore numbered some 35,000, and together with the Inumiden under their king, Masensen, they stood 45,000. This was not an adequate match for the army of the Seleukídai however, which, together with new units from Baktrianḗ, Parthía, and Aígyptos, as well as mercenaries from Krḗtē, numbered 60,000. The battle, which was fought outside the city, was a crushing defeat for the Rōmānī, though the Lord of Asíā, who was hailed as ‘God Manifest’ and ‘Savior of the Héllēnes’, died shortly after negotiations had been concluded with the extant consul, Pūblius Cornelius Lentulus (Gnaeus Domitius Ahēnobarbus having died of gangrene).

The Rōmānī indeed drove a hard bargain, as they could feasibly win another war in Anatolḗ and Hellā́s, although certain terms seemed to be non-negotiable with Antíokhos. In particular, the return of political hostages (most importantly, his nephew) and a full Roman withdrawal from Makedōnía and Hellā́s, while others were more so. The return of the Molossoi was something that Antíokhos was willing to compromise on, if the Rōmānī agreed to repay the indemnity that the Seleukídai had paid them as per the Treaty of Apámeia. He further agreed to give a third of the money to the boy-king Aléxandros VI, and that future kings of Makedōnía would have to be mutually approved by the Seleukídai and the Roman senate. All Roman arbitration in Aígyptos would have to cease, as it would also between Qart-Ḥadašt and the Inumiden, and the towns of Wy’t[14], Taparura, Takapès[15], Gergis[16], Girba[17], and Labqi would be returned to the suzerainty of the government there.









Notes


1. The time is being recorded according to the Seleucid Era or Anno Grecum used by the Seleucid Court, which uses the Babylonian calendar with substituted Macedonian names, but reckons the new year in autumn. The first year of this era corresponds to the autumn of 312 BCE, dating from Seleucus I’s re-conquest of Babylon after his exile in Egypt.
2. William Woodthorpe Tarn makes a very strong case for Eucratides I having been not only a relative, but an agent of Antiochus IV in his book The Greeks in India.
3. There is no direct evidence that the murder of Antiochus son of Seleucus IV was ordered by Antiochus IV, who was his regent. In this timeline, we are assuming that the boy was murdered by other agents within the Seleucid government.
4. The case for Antiochus IV’s intent to make Babylon his capital is also made by William Woodthorpe Tarn in The Greeks in India, taking particular note of the numismatic evidence.
5. Modern Khujand, Tajikistan, in the Fergana Valley.
6. See Sylvie Honigman’s book Tales of Priests and Taxes and the article Re-Examining Hanukkah by John Ma, in which the case is made that the unprecedented religious persecution that the Jews faced at the hands of Antiochus IV’s regime is explained in a Hellenistic context.
7. Nyssa of Cappadocia, the sister of Mithridates V of Pontus, was married to Ariarathes V IOTL.
8. Ariarathes V rebuked Laodice V IOTL when her hand was offered by Demetrius I Soter. By this time, the Seleucid Empire had lost most of its Iranian holdings, and had had a number of its ships sunk by the Rōmānī after the brief reign of Antiochus V. Laodice was also several years older IOTL at this time. ITTL, she may be a widow, but a widow of proven fertility, whose royal blood will put Ariarathes V’s children with her in line for the Seleucid throne.
9. Although we can never know where the majority of the Molossian slaves ended up, we will be positing for the sake of this timeline that the majority of them were bought by the recently landed gentry of Sicily and the Roman and Italian speculators buying up the ager publicum in the Italian Peninsula.
10. The demand was a bluff of on Antiochus’s part. He knew that Rome would not and could not cough up the Molossoi or pay the indemnity. But the demand is a gesture to the peoples of Greece to show them that he does not intend to rule them as an Oriental despot.
11. Philip II of Macedon is said to have said after his defeat at the hands of Onomarchos in Thessaly, “I have not fled, but I have retired, as rams do, in order that I may make a more vigorous attack next time.” William Woodthorpe Tarn speculates that Antiochus IV did not leave Egypt after the Day at Eleusis because he was afraid that he could not hold it, but rather, that his plans to dismantle the principle threat to the Seleucid Empire, Parthia, might be put in jeopardy if he pursued his interests there at the time.
12. Numidia.
13. While we know that the Carthaginians had a governing body of elders from the upper classes, we don’t know what it was called, and so many scholars use the word “senate” to describe it, since Latin sources do so, and the Greek sources call it a gerousía. Seeing as Punic was a dialect of Phoenician, and Phoenician and Hebrew were mutually intelligible dialects of the same language, I am positing that the Carthaginians might have used a similar term to describe this body, zeqenim, which means “elders” in Hebrew today.
14. Known in Latin as Oea, modern Tripoli, Libya.
15. Known in Latin as Tacapae, modern Gabès, Tunisia.
16. Modern Zarzis, Libya.
17. Modern Djerba, Tunisia.
 
Ho Agṓn Diá Tḗn Syría


Antíokhos IV Epiphanḗs Sōtḗr died at the end of the winter of 151 (162-161) of consumption of the lungs in Aígyptos, which had plagued him a couple of years before in Asíā before his campaign against Parthía, though not without leaving a will. As his son, Antíokhos V was only 11 when his father died in Aígyptos, the regency would be left to Eukratídēs, while the latter’s son, Hḗlioklēs, would govern over the eastern territories, just as Eukratídēs had done briefly under his maternal cousin, Antíokhos IV, while the king’s young nephew, Dēmḗtrios, was to be made the stratēgós of Parthía. However, further complicating the matter of the king’s death was the death of his son that followed by the summer, along with the death of his mother, who both succumbed to the same illness, which left the only surviving heirs to the throne by his line his daughter, Laodíkē VI, though he had sired twins by the lady Nýssa, who were both girls – Bereníkē and Kleopátra. This meant that the throne would pass to Dēmḗtrios I, who was crowned in Babylṓn that spring, and who took the lady Nýssa as his wife. Obviously, these developments represented a serious problem for the state, as the Rōmānī immediately denied the terms of the Treaty of Léptis, and refused to abandon Makedōnía, citing that their treaty had been with Antíokhos, not Dēmḗtrios[1]. Thus, before any festivities could be held to celebrate the great victory that his predecessor had won, the country was already facing a large-scale conflict with the Rōmānī over hegemony in the Mesógeios[2].


The geography of the impending conflict made it particularly difficult logistically. Both sides were threatened on two fronts. A withdrawal from Aígyptos would surely result in rebellion and further destabilization of the region, while also leaving Qart-Ḥadašt to the Inumiden and the Rōmānī, should either, or perhaps both decide to invade. In the north, matters were no less clear, as Pérgamon could invade Seleukidian lands through the Kilikian Gates, and a naval defeat could see them invading Syría. Of course, it had been clear to everyone (though he had shared his plans only with his closest advisors) that Antíokhos had married Nýssa of Póntos with the intent of securing the loyalty of her uncle, King Mithridátēs IV, but the loyalty of the young Ariaráthēs V of Kappadokía was in question. Firstly, he was indeed the brother-in-law of Euménēs II of Pérgamon, although this relationship was a strained one, as the King of Pérgamon’s marriage to Ariaráthēs’ sister had been strictly political, and his children, including his son Áttalos, were all bastards. However, Ariaráthēs’ marriage to Laodíkē V was not as binding as a marriage to a ripe young princess, firstly because she had already been married and had children of her own, but secondly because she was a niece of a now deceased king, and finally because the king with whom he had made his pact was… deceased. As the Rōmānī might very well offer him control of Kilikía in return for his aid, Dēmḗtrios, who himself was politically isolated and inexperienced [3], was going to have to make a better offer or make another friend. A more profitable relationship, was with the King of Bithynía, whom he had known in Rōma on the former’s travels there.


In Rōma, the word had been that Prousías had a son, Nikomḗdēs II, who was still without a wife. Though this son was not as loved by his father as his sons by his second wife, Kiršula of Ziela, he was the eldest and the most beloved by the people. Therefore, Dēmḗtrios sought to make an ally of the Bithynai by offering the hand of his cousin, the Princess Laodíkē in marriage to their eldest prince. The benefits in doing such were three-fold – it would make a friend of the young prince who might otherwise be used by the Rōmānī if Laodíkē’s hand were offered to one of his younger half-brothers, it would secure political relations with his father, and it would also open relations with the Odrýsai, whose prince, Diégulas had married Nikomḗdēs’ sister, the princess Apáma. Thus, whatever offer the Rōmānī might have extended to Ariaráthēs, he might have found himself even more politically isolated than Dēmḗtrios was at his own court if he would not come to some sort of understanding. Dēmḗtrios’ proposal therefore, was thus…


Pérgamon as an independent entity was to be destroyed. The city would be raised, and its population sent to the east, perhaps to settle the valley of the Iaxártēs[4], or perhaps even further. The domains of Pérgamon and her ally, Galatía would be divided among the Anatolian kingdoms, with the Kingdom of Póntos receiving the northern portion Galatía (including the ancient cities of Ánkyra and Górdion) and Eastern Phrygía up to the Sangários[5], following the hills to the southwest down to Lake Philomélion[6], and cutting across the plains to Lake Tatta[7], going along its western shores until the Halys River[8]. The Kingdom of Kappadokía would receive the regions of Isauría and Lykaonía (including the cities of Ikónion, Lýstra, Láranda, and Dérbē), while the Kingdom of Bithynía would receive Troás[9]. The Seleukídai would subsequently take control of the southern and western coasts, including Pisidía (up to Laodíkeia Katakekauménē), Pamphylía, Lykía, Karía, Western Phrygía, Ioníē, and Mysía. Whichever party had qualms with the partition plan could take it up in arms with the parties that didn’t, and while Ariaráthēs was not entirely satisfied with his portion, he conceded when his agents informed him of the marriage proposal to Prince Nikomḗdēs II of Bithynía – whatever his designs might have been, if he had sided with the Rōmānī, he would still have been surrounded by enemies.


The plan was genius. Every monarch in Anatolḗ (with the notable exception of the kings of Pérgamon) stood to gain, and though Dēmḗtrios I has been widely credited with it, it was put together primarily by Eukratídēs, Lysías, and Queen Nýssa, the latter of whom knew the monarchs of Anatolḗ personally and collaborated with her uncle, the King of Póntos, who stood to gain tremendously from it. It definitely had its shortcomings, as such territorial expansions for the kingdoms of Póntos and Bithynía served to make them potential threats to future Seleukidian kings, but the primary focus of foreign policy at the moment, was removing the Rōmānī from the Eastern Mesógeios, at least for Dēmḗtrios. He had, after all, spent much of his life in Ītalia, and he knew all too well not only the power of her army but the acumen of her generals and politicians, and their expansionist intent. The Orient was rich, and he knew his history – the Rōmānī always started out as the arbiters of justice, and bit by bit, they would intervene in the affairs of others before they became your rulers in everything but name. It was clever, and many a city, town, kingdom or league had fallen for it… he would not. Of course, the plan put the Rōmānī and the Pergámēnes in a particularly difficult position as well, as the Rōmānī could not hope to dissuade Prousías II of Bithynía with the same offer, as Troás was already under the control of the Pergámēnes, and the Pergámēnes could not join the confederation, because the partition was of land that belonged to them and the Galátai. The dice had officially been cast. If the Pergámēnes lost, it was the end of their kingdom. The ruling dynasty, the Attalídai, might be slaughtered, or disgraced, perhaps paraded before a crowd in Dáphnē or Babylṓn as the Antigonídai had been in Rōma and held as political hostages until their deaths, while the people of the city might be slaughtered, enslaved, or exiled, or some combination of the three. If the Rōmānī lost, their honor was not the only thing at stake, as Hellenistic powers had attempted invasions of Ītalia in the past with varying degrees of success, but Ḥanni-Bá’al Barqa had not only done so, but come dangerously close to subjugating the Rōmānī entirely. Surely, they were not so much worried in the short term about the renaissance of Qart-Ḥadašt as they were about the internal cost of further indemnities, as the terms of the Treaty of Léptis were sure to change if the war was lost[10].


By late summer, the alliance between the Anatolian kingdoms had been formalized, with festivities for the wedding of Prince Nikomḗdēs II and Princess Laodíkē being held in Dáphnē “with all the befitting pomp of such an event”, and a military procession celebrating the victories in Aígyptos and Kyrēnaïkḗ by the new king’s predecessor was held in Babylṓn. As one might expect, the political fallout was significant. Although the Rōmānī had refused to pay back the indemnity, they had already gone about returning certain political hostages before news of the death of the Lord of Asíā had reached them. Such valuable assets as Polýbios, the son of Lykórtas, who had intimate knowledge of the workings of Roman politics and the Roman military, had already been released. Certain others, like the boy Aléxandros, the Prince of Makedōnía, had not. Furthermore, their ability to face the new alliance of Anatolian states was indeed questionable. The army at Dēmḗtrios’ disposal for campaigning against them was enormous – perhaps more than 80,000 when levies east of the Euphrátēs were taken into account – which of course did not include the combined armies of Bithynía, Kappadokía, and Póntos, all of whom were eager for their bite of Pergamene-controlled lands. The best that they could hope for was some kind of a stalemate, one that possibly preserved the independence of their ally, the city of Pérgamon, although that seemed like a tall order given the context, especially if the Rhódioi decided that it might be prudent to strike a deal with the Hellenistic kingdoms.


Of course, since the defeat in Libýē, pro-war conservatives in the Senātus had been on the rise, particularly those who had been able to tether themselves to Mārcus Porcius Catō, who was effectively retired from politics, and nonetheless an important political figure. However, there were still a number of moderates who held sway and sought to control the damage, sending embassies to the various cities of Hellā́s, only to find that pro-Seleukídai propaganda spread by agents of Antíokhos had been taking its toll, as had of course been reported by their garrisons there. Particularly potent in swaying opinion in his own favor had been the demand of the return of political hostages, a gesture intended mostly for the cities of the Koinon tōn Akhaiōn, or the Akhaian League, which had been forced to give valuable political hostages to Rōma for “disloyalty”, despite having offered their entire force to the Rōmānī in the Third Makedonian War. The Lord of Asíā had made an impression on the people, and though the recently returned Polýbios – now recently elected stratēgós – urged prudence, the people were not feeling so much so, and Kallikrátēs and his pro-Roman party lost any and all political sway. Anti-Roman parties were also gaining traction in Petthalía[10], Akarnanía, and Aitōlía, and the more the garrisons punished the demonstrations (in Petthalía, mostly), the more popular they became. The Rōmānī had adopted a policy of “liberating the Héllēnes” when they had invaded a decade earlier during the Third Makedonian War, but the difference between theirs and Makedonian hegemony were proving to be minute, if not non-existent.


Thus, fighting a war on Hellenic soil would only prove the anti-Roman parties correct, that the Rōmānī were no more interested in preserving the liberty of the Héllēnes than the Makedṓnes had been, and so another field was going to have to be found. Certainly, the Rōmānī had won a decisive victory two decades earlier at Magnesía-toû-Sipýlou[11], but their ability to reach the Hellḗspontos would be curtailed by the Odrysai and the Bithynai, who would have to be defeated and subjugated for them to be allowed to pass. An enticing idea, and one considered by the Senātus and the cōnsulēs, and one that many a historian would look back and wonder why the Rōmānī didn’t proceed with. The Odrysai and Bithynai would have made easier foes, and with their power unquestioned in the Arkhipélagos[12]with the support of the Rhodian and Pergamene fleets, the Seleukídai would have been powerless to enforce their agenda in Makedōnía at least. However, securing Makedōnía did nothing for Pérgamon, who was the most threatened by the alliance in Anatolḗ, and so the Rōmānī would have to cross the Hellḗspontos, which doubtless meant that the Rōmānī would have to fight the combined armies of Kappadokía and Póntos, and the Seleukídai.


What the Rōmānī lacked ultimately, was information. For example, the Galátai were not entirely that popular a group in central Anatolḗ, and neither were the kings that gave them land grants. The Phrýges and the Śfardẽt[13] hated them, even still, a century after they had made their incursion into the region, as many of them had continued to be displaced by them. The various tribes of Lykaonía and Isauría felt similarly, as did the Paíones of the Taûros Mountains, who regularly controlled the road to Kilikía from Pisidía[14]. Perhaps these people could not add significantly to the Roman/Pergamene force as to be able to overpower their enemies, but the intelligence that they might have provided as to the workings of the country in which they might have fought could indeed have proven to have been enough to swing things in their favor. And yet, Anatolḗ, despite being the site of a decisive victory two decades earlier, would ultimately not be their field of choice.


No, the Rōmānī instead thought to strike the Seleukídai at the very center of their power – Syría. Certainly, the capital of the empire was at Babylṓn, but the epicenter of Hellenistic settlement and the nobility itself was here and in Kilikía. Recently, Antíokhos had been successful in violently putting down a Yǝhudic revolt centered around the city of Yerušalaim and its temple… a cosmetic monstrosity in the eyes of the Rōmānī (at least from the reports that they had heard), but nonetheless useful. While there was nothing particularly unusual in terms of domestic policy with what had happened there in terms of the people having lost their autonomy and control of their shrine following a tax revolt, rousing another rebellion in the region against the “oppressive” rule of the Seleukídai would allow the Rōmānī to move the theatre of their conflict to Syría, and therefore away from the kings in Anatolḗ where they might also receive help from supporters of the Lagídai[15]. However, Dēmḗtrios had anticipated such a measure early on (at least in terms of the sovereignty of Aígyptos), and therefore had already met with his cousin Ptolemaîos VI Philomḗtōr, whom he had known in Ītalia, promising to restore his rule of the whole of Aígyptos and Kyrēnaïkḗ (though not the island of Kýpros) if political relations with the Rōmānī were severed entirely. This of course, left no room for Ptolemaîos VIII Euergétēs…


Dēmḗtrios had not anticipated the use of the Yǝhudim, and though the Yǝhudic population in Rōma was negligible at the time, it nonetheless supplied the Roman military apparatus with the intelligence it needed to send secret envoys to the descendants of the House of Dāwīḏ in the Mesopotamian city of Nəhardəʿā[16], whom it promised a client state for Yǝhudic support against the Seleukídai. Truly, Dēmḗtrios had not anticipated the measure because it seemed so ridiculous, as his uncle had already destroyed the Yǝhudic rebellion and executed its ringleaders before his death. And yet, animosity toward the Seleukídai was widespread among the Yǝhudim of Aígyptos, particularly for the murder of the man they considered to be the rightful high priest, Honiyā́hû IV, and his sons, which Antíokhos had seen to so as to make sure that internal squabbling over the high priesthood would come to an end. It was therefore Ptolemaîos VI’s brother, the disgruntled king Ptolemaîos VIII Euergétēs of Kyrēnaïkḗ, who would collaborate with the Rōmānī, training a primarily Yǝhudic army over the course of the summer in the desert, which would be supplemented by Igerramen[17] mercenaries. This force, which was composed primarily of light desert shock troops that were trained to move quickly across terrain that was otherwise difficult to maneuver through for larger, more heavily equipped armies, would be sent into the region of Ioudaía not only to rouse another rebellion, but to create enough trouble in the region so as to cause Dēmḗtrios to send an army south. Surely, their fleet, the existence of which was in violation of the Peace of Apámeia, could not contend with the combined Rhodian, Roman, and Pergamene fleets, even if bolstered in its numbers by the fleet of Ptolemaîos VI. Therefore, the plan was to draw the Seleukídai away from their allies in the north into Syría, and also to create a wedge between Ptolemaîos VI and Dēmḗtrios. In turn, the Rōmānī would invade Syría by way of Trípolis, from whence they would move to take Dáphnē[18] while Dēmḗtrios scrambled to respond.


By late spring of 152 (160), the Prince Aléxandros of Makedōnía had not been returned, and the Roman’ plan had been put into full swing, with the Libyan Yǝhudim having invaded by way of the Néḡeḇ[19] and sacked the city of Ġāzā, in so doing having completely circumvented the Seleukidian force encamped at Pēloúsion. Of course, during the initial stages of the invasion of Ioudaía, whether or not the occupiers of Ġāzā represented a fresh group of recruits from old elements of the revolt in the countryside or an invading force wasn’t clear. Reports of their behavior, which included the defacing of Hellenistic shrines and the forced circumcisions of boys and men certainly made them sound Yǝhudic, although the same reports said that they conversed with each other in Hellenic. Certainly, the original rebels were known to speak Hebrew amongst each other almost exclusively, and so the use of Hellenic suggested, at least to local government officials, that this army was not local, but from where was confusing. Suspecting the Yǝhudim in Aígyptos, a crackdown on the Yǝhudim along the Neîlos[20] was begun by the recently reinstated Ptolemaîos VI, which served to create some degree of animosity among the general population toward his rule – the Yǝhudim having been quite numerous and well established in his kingdom. Yǝhudic sages were arrested en-masse, as were a number of people known to be affiliated with the former high priest, Honiyā́hû IV. This did not solve the problem of the rogue Yǝhudic force in the region however, and so a Seleukidian army of some 25,000 infantry and cavalry deployed from the province of Apámēnē to deal with the problem, together with a considerably smaller force (some 5,000) from Alexándreia and Ptolemaḯs Hermaíou and some 2,000 camel riders from the Kingdom of Medewi[21].


The Rōmānī had hoped that the Seleukídai would attempt to transport their troops by sea, hoping to destroy their fleet between Syría and Ioudaía. However, the Seleukídai moved their troops by land, and the Rōmānī had hastily set their plan into motion by deploying their separate armadas. The first was commanded by the Pūblius Mucius Scaevola and one of the two Rhodian stratēgoí, Kerkýōn. This fleet was intercepted by the Seleukidian fleet at the Battle of Páphos on the southwestern coast of Kýpros, which was a narrow victory for the Seleukídai on account of the Rhódioi having largely not participated in the battle and retreated when a relatively small fleet from Qart-Ḥadašt had unexpectedly arrived on the scene to aid their Hellenistic allies. The second armada, was primarily for transport, and carried the bulk of the Roman ground troops under Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus Māior, which had sailed north of Kýpros and was bound for Syría, where they landed just north of Trípolis[22], which was in Roman hands within a week, though the people of the city put up a “spirited and vigorous defense in the name of their king”. The defeat and capture of the other Roman only emboldened the Rōmānī that had made ground in Syría, and from Trípolis, Gracchus moved north along to the coast to Antárados[23] and then to Laodíkeia-ḗ-Páralos[24], which were inadequately defended to face such a large force. After pillaging the coastline, they moved inland by way of the Bargýlos Mountains for the city of Kádēs[25], where they defeated a smaller yet still substantially sized Seleukidian army led by one Makhátas at a town called Parádeisos. The intent was to march along the mountains through the province of Apámēnē to Dáphnē, one of the single most important cities of the Seleukídai that held a popular Pan-Hellenic shrine to Apóllōn and had been the functional administrative center of the dynasty for some time (although the king’s court had been meeting at Babylṓn for nearly a decade).


Dēmḗtrios had to respond quickly. Truly, his expectation had been to fight the Rōmānī in Anatolḗ, and his allies in the region were eager to divide their shares of the domains of the Kingdom of Pérgamon and the state of Galatía. Moving against the Rōmānī in Syría could leave Kilikía open to invasion through the Kilikian Gates if the Pergámēnes were not distracted however, and so he gave the word for his allies to move against them. However, the kings of Bithynía and Póntos did not coordinate their movements with one another, and so the Bithynai moved on Troás, winning an important naval battle with the help of the Byzantines at Aphousía, that allowed both parties to move beyond the Sea of Propontís and for the latter to seize control of the towns of eastern Thrakikḗ Khersónēsos[26], though they were unable to claim Alōpekónnēsos and Kardía, and the Bithynai suffered defeat at the Battle of Adramýtteion, which temporarily halted their operations in Troás for the remainder of the summer while the city of Dárdanos was still under siege. More success was had in Phrygía, where Mithridátēs IV won a series of victories against the combined forces of the Pergámēnes and the Galátai, the former of whom were late comers to the Galatian theatre and therefore were not able to stop the Pontoi from taking control of the whole eastern portion of the country up to the River Halys, a measure that was only temporary, pending the Battle of Lake Tatta, which was fought between Ariaráthēs V of Kappadokía and Áttalos II. The battle was not as much a defeat for the Pergámēnes as it was a realization that further hostilities could be thwarted if they could convince the invading parties to make peace with their shares of Galatía. All three parties agreed to an armistice for the remainder of the year, while the true outcome of the war was to be decided in Syría…


Matters were further complicated in the autumn with the death of Ptolemaîos VI, who, like his uncle, his aunt, and his cousin, died of consumption of the lungs, having contracted the disease from his dying uncle when he was in his death throws. This left the 26-year-old Kleopátra II, the sole supporter of Dēmḗtrios in Aígyptos, who extended a proposal of marriage to him so as to avoid the hand of her hated younger brother, whom many in Aígyptos doubtless expected her to marry… as did the Rōmānī, who were keen on arranging such a marriage after the Seleukídai had been brought to heel. However, the city Apámeia-ḗ-Oróntou[27] would not yield despite repeated assault, and was able to hold out until Eukratídēs and Lysías, arrived with a portion of the main army at Dáphnē, from whence they proceeded to levy every able-bodied young man and veteran in the countryside to fight the Rōmānī, who quickly found themselves cut off from their coastal supply lines by the nomadic tribes of the region, who seized the mountain passes, declaring for the Seleukídai. At the same time, the Seleukidian/Lagidian army that had only recently been deployed to Ioudaía, and had only met its opponents in brief skirmishes, turned north to meet the Rōmānī… who had expected to have occupied Dáphnē by now. Furthermore, the fleets of the Seleukídai and Qart-Ḥadašt sailed for Syría, only to be intercepted and defeated by the Pergámēnes off the coast at the Battle of Gabala[28], which, putting the Eastern Mesógeios securely in the hands of Rōma and her allies, was so devastating to the Pergamene and Roman fleets (the latter of which was docked and whose boats were largely unmanned) that it might as well have been a defeat. Still, the Rōmānī had secured the Syrian coastline, and what was left of the Pergamene fleet now controlled the sea between Kilikía and Syría, meaning that the outcome of the conflict had to be decided by land.


Heracleídēs of Mílētos and one Aléxandros of Smýrnē were marching through Koílē Syría[27], while Eukratídēs and Lysías were in Béroia[29]. Gracchus’ army was approximately 60,000, while the two armies marching against him when combined might have been as many 75,000 with the new levies, albeit a significant portion of the new levies had no experience in battle. Still, in his speech to his men, Gracchus compared the situation to the Anábasis[30], when ten thousand Hellenic mercenaries had found themselves in the middle of the Persian Empire after the defeat Kūruš the Younger who had employed them, and fought their way back to the Áxeinos Sea[31]. He then reminded them that their situation was not nearly as dire, as they had only the mountains between them and the coast, and that they were Rōmānī, and though they were likely to be outnumbered by the armies of the Seleukídai, that this was not the first test of the fighting prowess of an outnumbered Roman army against a Hellenic one, citing the Battle of Magnēsía. The army therefore, withdrew its siege of Apámeia and made for the town of Seleukópolis, near Mount Bēlos[32], where the town was surrendered without a fight. The Rōmānī then fortified their position, closing the pass and preventing the Seleukídai from forcing them into the open plain, where they would have the advantage of their phalanx. However, the Seleukídai could be said to have learned a thing or two since the Battle of Magnēsía, beginning with Antíokhos IV and his training of Roman-style infantry. Furthermore, Euktratídēs had not used phalanx units in the majority of his battles against the Euthydēmídai in Baktrianḗ, and had in fact fought a number of battles in the mountainous terrain of the Paropamisádai[33], and therefore was no stranger to the circumstances. The ensuing Siege of Mount Bēlos would last some 100 days, and involved a number of efforts at scaling the walls and a few efforts at mining beneath them, but was finally won when Eukratídēs marched a portion of his Baktrian infantry (units that he had levied, trained, and commanded in the past personally) north by way of the village of al-Q’naya[34] to cut off the supply line from the captured city of Laodíkeia-ḗ-Páralos, at which point the Rōmānī made a final effort to break the Seleukidian force and at the opening of the Oróntēs Valley, but were unsuccessful in doing so. Within 30 days, Gracchus was ready to surrender, however, Eukratídēs, secure in his position, sent word of the Roman surrender to the Pergámēnes on the coast, who refused to yield the city, and pursued him in battle in the mountain pass, where they were defeated. Thus, Eukratídēs saw fit to starve the Rōmānī out for another 70 days for their insult in having invaded Asíā at all, before finally releasing the emaciated troops from their fort, their having succumbed to disease in the process.


The defeat of the Rōmānī at Mount Bēlos sent a shockwave through the Eastern Mesógeios. Though Aígyptos was still contested by Ptolemaîos VIII Euergétēs and Ioudaía still plagued by Yǝhudic mercenaries in the process of rousing another rebellion, a Rhodian embassy was received by Dēmḗtrios in Dáphnē following the victory against the Rōmānī that winter that not only proposed an alliance between the Seleukídai and the Roman Republic, but an invasion of Illyrís, to expel the Rōmānī from the east for good. Moreover, while agreements reached between Hellenistic kings were often not obliged to be carried out by their successors, the Rōmānī had held the Seleukídai to the terms of the Treaty of Apámeia in so much as the indemnities were concerned, which had staved off their designs against the rebellious kings of Parthía for more than a decade despite the death of Antíokhos III and the reign of Séleukos IV. The Rōmānī, though still a force to be reckoned with in Hellā́s, were compelled to pay back the indemnity, plus an extra 3,000 talents as a royalty for having attempted an invasion of Asíā. A further 2,500 talents would be imposed on the Rōmānī for those Molossoi that could not be returned, as it was Dēmḗtrios plan to settle as many of them as he could in the city of Yerušalaim, which would again be renamed, this time as Dēmētriás, with its temple forever being repurposed as a temple of Zéus. They were also compelled to withdraw from Hellā́s entirely and return Aléxandros VI, though the terms of his return included that his kingdom would not include Paionía, Ēdōnís, Odomantikḗ, Sintikḗ, Parorbelía, Pierís, Bisaltía, Lynkāstís, Elimeía, Eordaía, Tymphaía, Parauaía, or Pelagonía, but rather only the Makedonian Lowland, Krestonía, Mygdonía, the whole of Khalkidikḗ, Bottikḗ, Anthemoûs, Sithōnía, Pallḗnē, and Aktḗ.


Paionía would be reinstated as a vassal state of the Roman Republic, and it would include Pelagonía. The ancient Kingdom of Lynkāstís would enjoy a similar resurrection, which would itself include Eordaía, Orestís, Elimeía, Tymphaía, and Parauaía, though this kingdom would be owe its vassalage to the Seleukídai. The regions of Bisaltía, Odomantikḗ, Sintikḗ, Ēdōnís, Pierís and Parorbelía, including the city of Amphípolis and the mines of Mount Pangaíon, would likewise be ceded to the Thrakian Sapaiai, who would be a vassal of Rōma. Thus, Paionía, Lynkāstís, and “Sapaía” would act as a series of buffer states between the Seleukídai and their allies, and the Rōmānī and theirs (the tribes of Illyrís, the Dárdanai, and the Apeirote League). Candidates for the throne of Makedōnía, as agreed upon with the former Treaty of Léptis, would have to be mutually agreed upon by both the Seleukidian kings and the Roman Senātus. Finally, while Pérgamon would lose all of its domains outside of the immediate vicinity of the city itself, the ruling dynasty, the Attalídai, would remain unharmed, as would the population of the city, and it would remain an ally of the Roman Republic on whose behalf the Rōmānī or their vassals would be allowed to intervene (even if the benefit of such a relationship was voided by the alliance of Rhódos with the Seleukídai).


The Rōmānī could no longer boast that they were the principal power in the Mesógeios, and the future of the east was to be decided by the peoples of the east.




Notes


1. It was standard practice at the time, particularly among the Hellenistic kingdoms because of their nature as military despotisms, that treaties were agreed upon between individual monarchs, and not necessarily between states themselves.
2. The Ancient Greek name of the Mediterranean Sea, which we will be using in this timeline.
3. Demetrius I Soter spent much of his childhood in Italy, and therefore would not have been well-acquainted with the members of the government that he had just inherited.
4. The Fergana Valley.
5. The Sakarya River.
6. Now the lakes Akşehir and Eber, in Afyon Province, Turkey. At the time, these two lakes were a single lake, before diversion of its sources for agriculture caused the water levels to drop, and for the lake to fragment.
7. Lake Tuz.
8. The Kızılırmak River.
9. The Troad.
10. At the time in question, Italy was not in any sense ethnically homogenous, and there was simmering animosity between the other Italian peoples, primarily the other Italic tribes, but also the Etruscans, over their position in Roman society and the allocation of public lands by the Roman government. This animosity boiled over IOTL with the Social War, but the Social War itself has been said by some scholars to have been long overdue by the time that it actually broke out.
11. The Battle of Magnesia.
12. One of the Ancient Greek names of the Agean that survived into the early modern period.
13. The endonym of the Lydians.
14. Darius I of Persia is recorded to have deported two of the Paeonian tribes to Cilicia following their defeat in his invasion of Europe in the late 6th century BCE. What became of them is lost to history. Some scholars believe that the city of Serraepolis on the Ceyhan River may have been a settlement established by these people, but this is mere conjecture, as the details of the foundation of the city are lost to history. ITTL, I will be positing that while some of these Paeonians settled down in Cilicia and became fully Hellenized following the Macedonian conquest of the area, others had fled Persian subjugation into the Taurus Mountains, where they retained their ethnic identity, and showed up in Roman records as the Homonadesians. Of course, there is no proof for either of these points of view, so it is every bit as much conjecture on my part.
15. Ptolemy I Soter was the son of Lagus of Eordaea, and the dynasty established by him was referred to at the time as the Lagid Dynasty, as opposed to the modern name of the “Ptolemaic Kingdom”.
16. The city of Nehardea in Mesopotamia was the center of Babylonian Judaism, and was the seat of the exilarchate, where the House of David ruled over the Yǝhudim who had chosen to remain in exile. However, there is no evidence of the existence of the office prior to the Parthian period, and so it would seem that while the House of David likely still held sway in the Yǝhudic community of exiles in Mesopotamia, there was as of yet no exilarchate at the time in question. The Roman envoys sent to find to contact the House of David are not interested in establishing an exilarchate however, but rather in establishing a client-state in Judaea by reinstating the old ruling dynasty.
17. Garamantes, a Berber tribe from the desert of Libya.
18. The terms “Daphne” and Antioch seem to have been interchangeable to some degree at the time, as there were a great many cities whose names on paper reflected the names of dynasts, many of which seemed to have their own local names. ITTL, Antioch will be referred to primarily as Daphne.
19. The Negev.
20. The Nile.
21. The Kingdom of Meroe.
22. Tripoli, in Lebanon.
23. Tartus, in Syria.
24. Latakia, in Syria.
25. On the eastern side of the An-Nusayriyah Mountains on the Orontes, near modern Homs. Also called Laodicea ad Libanum by the Rōmānī.
26. Gallipoli.
27. The Beqaa Valley.
28. Jableh, in Syria.
29. The Hellenistic name of Aleppo.
30. The story of the Ten Thousand, by Xenophon.
31. The Black Sea.
32. Near Modern Jisr al-Shughur, Syria.
33. The Hindu Kush.
34. Qunaya, in Syria.
 
Reduellātiō Magnus Servōrum


The decade after the defeat at Mount Bēlos would prove to be a trying one for the Roman Republic. The moderates in the Senātus were gradually losing influence, and a faction of hardliner, often pro-war, and increasingly austere conservatives slowly made began to replace them. The first priority of foreign policy for this rising faction was ensuring the continued hegemony of the Rēs Pūblica in Hellā́s and preventing the renaissance of the Kingdom of Makedōnía. Where the moderates were more concerned with matters of domestic policy and the seemingly endless conflicts in Hispānia, such was the influence of the new conservatives that, within half a decade, they were able to make these positions standard in the Senātus and increasingly so among men of the senatorial class at large. To accomplish these goals, they moved to cripple the kingdom by denying it direct access to its minerals by carving out its highland territories and declaring them independent states. Thus, the Kingdom of Lynkāstís, which had ceased to exist under Phílippos II, the father of Aléxandros ho Mégas, was re-established under a certain King Kállas, whose seat would be the city of Hērákleia Lynkāstís, which would be a stop along a major road that the Rōmānī were planning to build from Byzántion to Epídamnos in Illyria, where goods from the Orient would then be ferried to Brundisium. A second kingdom, established to the northeast, would be Paionía, under a certain Kotúdotos[1], which would act as a buffer between Makedōnía, Thrā́ikē, and the more barbarian north, with its seat at the old capital of Bulā́zōra[2]. Finally, the kingdom of Sapaía, a kingdom for the Sapai, who had in the past been loyal allies of Rōma, would rule from the city of Amphípolis under a certain king Mukáporis. Though Roman soldiers were not supposed to be garrisoned in the Kingdom of Lynkāstís, a client state of the Seleukídai, the Rōmānī paid little heed to this, as they did to other clauses of the Treaty of Dáphnē, which cost them the respect of the common people of Hellā́s.


The Roman refusal to pay their indemnity to the Seleukídai and fully withdraw from Hellā́s did its due in souring relations between them and a number of the Hellenic cities and leagues. Certainly, the rhetoric that floated about the country often painted the Rōmānī in an almost humorous light, as if children who refused to accept that they had lost some game. Others purported that the Rōmānī were like adolescent boys come into their father’s fortune, spending it on the gifts that won them the infatuation of other men’s wives, and in some cities the people ‘charitably’ passed around baskets to gather funds for the indemnity, which were usually filled with useless trinkets and then dumped at the garrisons. In some places, mobs would gather outside Roman forts to bring their ‘gifts’ and have a good laugh at the soldiers. In the city of Oloossṓn[3] in Perraibía[4] however, an incident of particular interest (though it didn’t seem much at the time) took place, in which a certain fuller by the name of Kēphisódotos gave actual money to a ‘Roman’ officer who had protested the jokes of the crowd by specifying that he was not in fact Roman, but Etruscan[5], and that he had no more desire to guard his wretched outpost than the people had to host him. Kēphisódotos had stepped forward from the crowd and taken the officer around the shoulder and chastised his fellow countrymen, declaring that it was in poor character to mock people in such unfortunate circumstances.


“Take this, that you may take it home to your wife and children, whatever that you might have. Truly, fortune does not only manifest in the form of money, and there are few things more unfortunate than being forced into the employ of a master who cares not for your well-being. My employer surely is a good one, so, perhaps you need this more than I do.”



Following this incident and likely many others like it, as the Koinòn tōn Akhaiōn and Athênai were in conflict over the border town of Orōpós, the Athēnaîoi sent embassies to Rōma, while the Akhaioí only did so begrudgingly, at the insistence of Polýbios and his party (with the exception of his brother, Thearídas, who agreed that deference to the Rōmānī was no longer necessary).


There was also widespread discussion in Hellā́s of the fate of the enslaved Molossoi and Makedṓnes, who had been demanded by the Seleukídai twice now, and never produced. Some people believed that the Seleukídai should invade Hellā́s and throw the Rōmānī out entirely, forcing them to capitulate to the demands of the treaties that they had signed, while others thought that the Seleukídai were a paper tiger, and that their defeats of the Roman Republic were either due to luck or the poor command of inexperienced, less-intelligent men than the likes of Aemilius Paullus Mācedonicus. Others still believed that the Roman Republic was the paper tiger, having not enforced a number of its demands in the past, having recently lost decisively against the Seleukídai, and having sat idly by and watched while their allies, the Pergamenes, lost all of their possessions beyond the immediate vicinity of their city. The vast majority of Héllēnes however, understood the situation for what it was – there were two great powers in the Mesógeios, and time would tell which one would outlive the other, as the world wasn’t big enough for both of them.


Where the Republic’s original interests in Hellā́s and Illyria had mostly been renegaded to the maintenance of the security of trade, there was now a vengeful streak in the Senātus and the assemblies, one that painted the Seleukídai in almost as villainous a light as Qart-Ḥadašt, and which was ever more out of touch with the interests of the people. The Republic’s wars had been expensive, not only financially and in terms of loss of life, but also structurally, as it seemed that the Roman/Italian farmer was becoming as endangered as the elephant of Mesopotamía[6]. Veterans of her wars would return home to find their farms bankrupt or in such disrepair that they had no other choice but to sell and take their families to the cities where they might find work, which itself was more and more difficult with the growing population of slaves. This was especially problematic after the defeats in Āfrica and Syría, in which veterans had come home disgraced, their lands in disrepair or bankrupt, and without the spoils that they otherwise might have sold to support their families in or near a city where they might search for work. It was a good thing that the Senātus had not ratified all of the clauses of the Treaty of Dáphnē in their minds, as the increase in taxes to pay the indemnity would rob them of what little money they had earned from their soldiers’ pensions. The problem was particularly pronounced in Etrūria and Sicilia. Sicilia had been won in the Duella Pūnica[7], and those indigenous peoples who had sided with the Pūnicī[8] had had their lands confiscated by the Roman state, which then sold them to large landowners, while the indigenous peoples either could work for a pittance, join the army, or try their hands at finding work in the cities while gangs of slaves, primarily from Hispānia and Hellā́s worked said confiscated lands. This process of displacement had been ongoing for a century now, and with the rumors circulating of the Seleukidian demands for the freedom of the Molossian slaves now working many of the large estates, it was about to boil over.


Yet another ethnic element contributed to the simmering unrest in Sicilia. The island was the Republic’s first overseas territory, and was represented by a diverse admixture of peoples, including Héllēnes, Pūnicī (who called themselves Kǝná’anim), Élumoi, Sikeloi, and Sikanoi. Following the conquest of the island by the Republic, the new government had chosen to leave the previous system of taxation of farmers in place, which involved a tithe on every farmer that had to be delivered by late summer. The Rōmānī had of course doubled the tithe from 5% to 10%[9]. Likewise, the collectors of this tax, known in Latin as decumānī, had been of indigenous or foreign stock under the rule of Qart-Ḥadašt[10], but the Lēx Hierōnica, which had codified this system into Roman law, said that these decumānī had to be of Sicilian origin. However, a great number of indigenous people had had their lands and possessions confiscated by the state when they sided with Qart-Ḥadašt, thereby impoverishing them, and further were subject to the payment of taxes… except for the Élumoi. No, the Élumoi enjoyed a very privileged status in the new order of things due to the fact that they had sided with the Rōmānī against Qart-Ḥadašt, but also due to their dubious claims of descent from a certain prince of Troías, Élumos, which allegedly made them cousins of the Rōmānī, who claimed descent from Aineías. The Élumoi had not been impoverished by the same land confiscations, and they were also exempt from taxation, which meant that the majority of the decumānī imposing the taxes on what poor indigenous Sicilian farmers were left were Élumoi, whom the other two indigenous peoples resented not only for their Hellenization, but for their position over them[10].


Certainly, the Sikeloi and Sikanoi could be said to have been Hellenized in the sense that they had adopted Hellenic dress and language, and even some of their personal names, though their sense of identity and their ancestral tales had not been lost. According to these tales, they and the Élumoi all shared a common origin, the history of which had been preserved in the tales of the former two, that told of them having been led there by the god Tarkuástros[11] from a place they called Lapídeia, which was a country in the north “where the mountains met the sea”[12]. In these tales, Élumos was one of three ancestral brothers who founded the three principal tribes of the island after a schism among the original tribe, which was itself descended from the god of earthly and heavenly fires – Adranós. While a great many of the tales had been interwoven with Hellenic ones, the ancestry of the people was something that many of them held to be sacred, and the Élumoi had not only professed being unrelated to their fellows, but now held undue sway over them through their avarice.


Despite the fact that the moderates in the Senātus were actively pushing to look within their own borders rather than out, particularly at the issue of land ownership and the retiring veterans, the tensions would come to a head in the early months of the year 160 (154), when a group of Molossian slaves mutinied against their master on a large plantation outside of the city of Henna. There was no particular leader of the mutiny at first. The slaves who had begun the rebellion were young, koûroi[13] by Hellenic standards, and unfit to lead. Although the precise reasons behind this initial mutiny are lost to history, a number of stories of later writers would dramatize these events by attributing them to a romance between a certain boy named Lynkídas and the daughter of his Italian master. It is known that Lynkídas was the adopted son of the man who came to lead the revolt as the ‘King of Sicilia’, Kunískos, who had fought the Rōmānī in Ápeiros, but not whether or not this Lynkídas is the same one that is alleged to have ignited the revolt, nor whether the tales of his romance with the daughter of his master have any merit whatsoever.


What is known however, is that the revolt spread quickly in the Sicilian countryside, although it does not appear to have ever been restricted to Molossoi or Makedṓnes who had been enslaved there. By now, many of the slaves in both groups had married and had children with other slaves, and so a strictly Molossian/Makedonian rebellion would have been impractical. Instead, not only does the rebellion seem to have included non-Molossian/Makedonian slaves from the start, but also came to include indigenous peoples of the island who had been disenfranchised after the Roman conquest, lending to it a certain appeal among the lower classes that made it all the more dangerous, and that helped it spread. In fact, within the year, the rebels, which included both slaves and the slaveless classes, had taken control of not only the Hellenic cities of Taoroménion[14] and Katánē[15], but the entire countryside surrounding Mount Aḯtnē[16]. The initial organization of the rebellion had declared Kunískos as a king in the old Molossian sense, for which he had taken the name Newoptólemos[17], and sought to organize a state as a monarchy in the Hellenic fashion. Ancient writers speak of Newoptólemos as a charismatic and politically savvy figure, and sometimes suggest that he may have been affiliated with the Molossian nobility, although this may be the mere conjecture of those who sought to explain his political acumen.


As this rebellion grew to include the more dispossessed lower classes of the island, particularly those indigenous peoples that had been bullied and oppressed by the Roman state, its structure changed to be more democratic. Newoptólemos is recorded as having proposed the idea of a Hellenic democracy, and stepped aside to share power with a certain Markáitos[18], a man of Sikanian origins, as stratāgoí, elected by a bōlā́[19], however the rebels seemed to prefer a more authoritarian form of government. Therefore, a compromise was struck, with the title of stratāgós being changed to árkhōn, to be elected by the bōlā́ from among its ranks for a lifelong term, while the members of the bōlā́ itself would be composed of 10 men elected by the ekklēsíā, or general assembly of each city.


It is also recorded that upon taking control of the two cities, that Newoptólemos immediately went about trying to establish relationships with various states, in particular with the Lord of Asíā, but also having sent embassies to the Republic’s old enemy, Qart-Ḥadašt, to speak before the Zeqenim there. It is thought that the rebellion did not adopt exodus as an option until much later, beginning with the idea of establishing some kind of a client state in Sicilia to some greater power, be it Qart-Ḥadašt or the Seleukídai. Whatever the ulterior motives at first, the rebellion came at a very bad time for the Republic of course, as it coincided with two wars in Hispānia that were already proving to be difficult [20]. More focused on achieving a foreign victory, the matter of the revolt in Sicilia was not given the attention that it deserved by Rōma’s career politicians, and it was not until the disastrous defeat of a Roman garrison at Syrákousai and the capture of that city that they truly began to be concerned. The rebels issued a proclamation to the free peoples of Ītalia, calling those who had been disenfranchised by the Roman Republic to take up arms and join them in their fight for “freedom and just government”. The proclamation was very specific in its outline of a new republic, one in which there would be no slaves, and all the peoples of Ītalia and Sicilia would be equally represented as citizens of a single republic.


This proclamation came before the return of the rebel embassies, which returned at the end of the year 161 (153) with news of support from the governments visited. Both Qart-Ḥadašt and the Seleukídai were supportive, although the nature of the support differed between the two states. However tempting it might have been to make an attempt on the territorial integrity of the Roman Republic on its own soil, the Lord of Asíā did not want to tempt the possibility of a war in Hellā́s, which he was not sure he could win decisively. He therefore specified that he would be willing to ferry the rebels across the Mesógeios to Ioudaía, where they would be settled as klēroúkhoi, or citizens of autonomous communities that owed military allegiance to the monarchy. Furthermore, according to the contemporary historians in Asíā, Kléōn of Lárisa and Olympiódōros of Seleúkeia, the embassy was sent back to Sicilia with a gift of 200 talents of silver, which was intended to placate the Rōmānī long enough to allow the Seleukídai to ferry the rebels off of the island. There is however, no record of this silver having made it to Sicilia, and it is not mentioned by other contemporary writers. Though it would become a popular item of speculation among historians and writers of later generations, modern historians believe that the silver was used for mints, first for the so-called Sicilian League, but also for the purchase of equipment. The Zeqenim of Qart-Ḥadašt on the other hand, which had received financial and logistical support from the Seleukídai in the years following the Treaty of Léptis, welcomed the renewed opportunity to crush their old enemy, and offered naval support, and suggested that the rebellion continue to acquire the dispossessed classes of Ītalia.


Both contemporary and modern historians are known for calling the proclamation to the peoples of Ītalia, the so-called Fātum Nevoptolemī, premature. The Lord of Asíā could more than justify some sort of support of the rebels in so much as it included removing them from their current location, as he could argue that doing so was in line with the treaty that had been signed by a Roman cōnsul. He could not however, make the argument that such fundamental reforms to the Roman Republic were within the scope of said treaty…


Slavery was of course an institution that was universal throughout the states of the Mesógeios at the time, however slave ownership was not universal among individuals. The dispossessed sociī of Ītalia, the allies that made up more than a third of the army that did not enjoy the rights of citizens or even the iūs Latiī, or Latin Rights, were not slave owners. While there were indeed wealthy Italian families, some of whom owned large estates and thirsted for the opportunity to try their hands at politics in Rōma, the majority of the sociī not only did not own slaves, but a significant portion of them in the countryside found themselves in direct competition with slave labor, which was something that Newoptólemos catered to when dealing with the indigenous peoples of Sicilia and nearby Bruttium[21].


The proposal of course, was not popular with the landed classes, and certainly not so among those cities that still retained a primarily Hellenic population in the region the Rōmānī called Magna Graecia, nor was it entirely that popular among the Rasna (Etruscī) in the north, but it resonated very deeply with a number of peoples in Southern Ītalia, in particular the Safinos[22], who had been subjugated by the Rōmānī more than a century earlier, and had demonstrated their desire for independence on more than one occasion by siding with the Republic’s enemies[23]. By now of course, the Safinos were not as interested in separation from the Republic as they were in finding their place in it, and the fact that the majority of them were not slave owners themselves made the prospect of siding with slaves in revolt less appalling, and yet, there place within the Republic did not seem so bad yet as to take up arms against it.


The capture of two cities combined with the proclamation told the government that the local magistrates were no longer capable of containing the problem, which became even clearer when another slave revolt broke out in Campānia. The revolt in Campānia however cannot be considered to be an extension of the one in Sicilia, as these slaves were known to kidnap free people of the Republic and sell them as slaves to one another, and it does not seem to have made any particular effort to include the dispossessed classes of Ītalia. Truly, Trýphōn, a former Molossian slave and participant in the rebellion in Sicilia would later write that it was the fault of the slaves in Campānia, who “submitted themselves entirely to their debased lust for vengeance” that the two revolts could not cooperate and were ultimately unable to acquire the Republic’s Italian allies among their ranks. Thus, in the spring of 161 (152), the cōnsul Gnaeus Cornelius Dolāduella was sent to Campānia to dispatch the rebels there, while a young Pūblius Cornelius Scīpiō Aemiliānus Āfricānus, who had been prematurely elected to the office of preator following his use of his family name to raise a private army to combat the revolt, was sent to Bruttium. Cornelius Dolāduella was given a single legion together with a number of levied Italian alae, principally of Etruscan and Faliscan origins, while Scīpiō had levied two legions of his own and a number of Italian alae, the constituents of whom he he had promised colonies in Sicilia for their efforts.


Cornelius Dolāduella initially met success in his campaign, as the rebels in the north of Campānia were indeed extremely disorganized. They burned the bridges of the Liris River[23], certainly, which meant that the Rōmānī had to march through the Safinite highlands to meet them again at the River Calor[24] near Maloeis[25], where the rebels were defeated. He was again successful at Plistika[26] and Kaudiom[27], but he suffered a defeat near Suéssoula[28], where the rebels had apparently been trained by escaped gladiators under the command of Blungomatus, a former gladiator of Celtiberian origin. The defeat was not a decisive one, but rather more of a setback, though it rendered the Rōmānī temporarily incapable of relieving the siege of Neápolis, which itself fell within the month to slaves from within the city. This put the rebels in Campānia in control of three important cities – Suéssoula, Neápolis, and Kúmē[29] – two of which happened to be ports, though the Rōmānī made sure to block the harbors with contingents of their newly rebuilt fleet that had been ported in Ostia. Unfortunately, the rebels had enough food between the three cities to withstand a lengthy siege.


In Bruttium, Scīpiō Aemiliānus was met with nothing but success as he marched through the countryside. Though idealistic, the rebels here were no match for a trained Roman legion, although in his writings he recorded that the re-subjugation of the Brutiī and their subsequent enslavement was something that affected the morale of his Italian troops, and even his own to a degree. However, a good deal of the Bruttiī and the rebel slaves were able to escape to the port city of Rhḗgion[30], which had been heavily fortified by them. Like they had at Neápolis and Kúmē, the Rōmānī blocked the Straight of Messā́nā with some 100 ships, preventing the crossing of the rebels into Sicilia. Sicilia itself had been almost entirely lost by this time to the rebels, excluding the western corner of the island, where the cities of Lilybaíon[31], Segesta, and Drépanon[32] were under siege, while the important port city of Pánormos[33] had already fallen.


The nature of the rebellion in Campānia was easier for the Rōmānī to handle politically than the one in Sicilia, as the intiators and leaders of the latter were Molossoi who had allied with the indigenous peoples of the island to throw off their Roman yokes. While the hardliner, militarist aristocrats of the Senātus might not have been entirely that concerned with enslaving the Molossoi a second time, despite repeated treaties with the Seleukídai that they be freed, Scīpiō Aemiliānus was not such a fool. After all, Qart-Ḥadašt was just across the water, and now was quite the inconvenient ally of the Lord of Asíā, who had been giving the city logistical and financial support, aiding it in reforming and expanding its standing army and rebuilding a fleet that would be able to check Roman authority in the Mesógeios. The Rōmānī might have been able to win a war against Qart-Ḥadašt alone, and even Hellā́s, but the Seleukídai were in effective control of Aígyptos and Kyrēnaïkḗ, as their king had taken Kleopátra II as his wife following the defeat of the Rōmānī at Mount Bēlos, and a new generation of youths in those countries had already been levied and trained to protect his interests there. The Rōmānī did indeed have allies across the sea in the Inumiden, but as far as Scīpiō Aemiliānus was concerned, the old King Masensen was naught but a clever opportunist whose loyalties could come into question if the Rōmānī were to suffer another defeat. So, he decided to meet with Newoptólemos, the so-called Árkhōn tês Sikelíās, on a boat in the Straight of Messā́nā to discuss terms.


In this meeting, Newóptolemos is said to have declared the loyalty of the rebel government to the Lord of Asíā, Dēmḗtrios I Nikátōr Sōtḗr, and claimed the island of Sicilia in his name. He also further stated that the Rōmānī had now twice refused to pay their debts, and that if they did not do so, as well as cede the island to the control of his government, which was under the suzerainty of the Seleukídai, that a “grand reckoning” of the Rōmānī awaited. A bold political move to be sure, one that had been decided upon without the consent of Dēmḗtrios himself, albeit the only portion of his demands that had fallen outside of the Treaty of Dáphnē was the part where Newoptólemos had claimed Sicilia for his alleged suzerain. Aemiliānus in contrast, stated that he was willing to come to a compromise on the release of the Molossian and Makedonian slaves on the island, but only they, and not any others. Newoptólemos countered with the claim that he was a representative of the “displaced and down-trodden” peoples of Sicilia, both enslaved and free, and that he could not accept such a proposal. Aemiliānus then proposed that Newoptólemos and his government might enter into a permanent alliance with Rōma, along the lines of the one that the city of Syrákousai[34] had with the Republic before it had betrayed it after the Battle of Cannae. According to this proposal, the lands of the Roman/Italian/Latin notables who had bought up vast tracts of land in Sicilia would be returned, and the slaves who had formerly worked them would receive wages for their work while the Sicilian government continued the 10% tithe on harvests, which the Rōmānī would split with them, taking 4% off of the top. Aemiliānus then reminded Newoptólemos that he was a long way from the Seleukídai, and that there were too many points of landing on the island for him to reject the terms. Newoptólemos is then recorded as having said, “One cannot land with no ships.” His response had confused Aemiliānus, who had the upper hand as far as he could tell, and therefore signaled to his men that negotiations had concluded and got off the boat.


By that night, as Aemiliānus and his officers were enjoying dinner, in the camp outside Rhḗgion, the entire Roman fleet in the strait was set on fire, and Aemiliānus in his own writings stated that this was accomplished by “setting the very sea ablaze”. How this was accomplished is lost to history, although modern scholars lean toward the notion that the rebels had used some kind of petroleum-based mixture to do so. As the Roman ships had ended up primarily on the Sicilian side of the strait due to the flow of the currents, this meant that the ships in the harbor of Rhḗgion, of which there were some hundred or more, would be free to transport the rebels to the other side once the fire had subsided. This gave Newoptólemos more than 25,000 reinforcements of escaped slaves and rebel Bruttiī, which would swell his army to a total of 268,000, at least 70,000 of which had been blooded, and had experience fighting professional Roman armies.


Losing Sicilia was not an option for the Republic. The importance of its agricultural productivity could not be overestimated to civic order within the capital, as it was a vital source of grain for overseas armies as well as the plēbs urbāna, as well as being a large and profitable area of real estate speculation. Furthermore, whosoever controlled Sicilia could not only project themselves into the Mesógeios but was merely a pontoon bridge away from an invasion of Ītalia itself. The Rōmānī were therefore willing to make certain compromises to maintain their control of it, including negotiating a new treaty with the tribes of Ibēria, and withdrawing some troops from Illyria and Hellā́s. The Roman Senātus agreed to abandon the terms imposed by Tiberius Semprōnius Gracchus Māior, which meant that the natives would be allowed to found new cities and fortify existing ones, and also that they would be relieved of the 5% requisition of the grain harvest and the requirement of providing auxiliary troops. They also agreed to withdraw Roman garrisons to the right bank of the Salon[35] River. In Lūsītānia, the Rōmānī agreed to withdraw behind the Flūmen Anas[36], and also paid the Lūsītānī a sum of 50 talents of silver for agreeing to the treaty. Sextus Jūlius Caesar, who had been sent to Ibēria to handle the situation, was then called back to Ītalia at the head of an army of 15,000, with 5,000 professional Roman legionaries, 3,000 native auxilia (drawn mostly from the Kečečken[37], Iltirkečken[38], and Aučečken[39]), 2,000 levies of Italian origin from the veteran colonies in Hispānia, another 4,000 levies of Latin origin from the same colonies, and 2,000 Inumiden auxilia. Quintus Fulvius Nōbilior returned from Hellā́s at the head of an army of 35,000, with 18,000 legionaries, 10,000 Italian alae, and 7,000 Illyrian auxilia. A further 16,000 auxilia of Ligurian origin were levied in the north, with the promise of peace and a payment of a total of 500 talents of silver to the tribes there. Another two legions were then levied from the Roman colonies around Ītalia, for a total of 77,000 troops. The Rōmānī then spent the next year gathering and training the new armies for the invasion, which would begin in the opening months of summer in 162 (151). However, the rebels had done the same, and also spent the year acquiring better equipment.


Now, Newoptólemos had anticipated that the Rōmānī would bring forces from Hellā́s, and that they might attempt to land on the southeastern corner of the island, which was considerably less rugged and therefore had many more locations suitable for landing a large army. He had spent much of the year establishing a string of fortifications and forts in the region, stationing his best and most experienced troops there, including a number of veterans of the Tertium Duellum Macedōnicum, who had been instrumental in his previous defeats of Roman troops in Sicilia. In his mind, this was the most important portion of the island to hold, as it would be the port of exodus of the people off the island should the need arise. He did not however expect that the Rōmānī would land in the northwest, on the north side of the Montēs Nebrodes[40], neither of which had been garrisoned to any great extent. This army was headed by Fulvius Nōbilior, and included the Illyrian auxilia and Italian alae, who would prove instrumental in defeating the Molossoi and Sikeloi in the mountains over the course of the summer, albeit at a cost that Nōbilior had not previously anticipated. Indeed, by the time he had won control of the mountain passes, his army had been reduced from 40,000 to 33,000. This meant that he could not move into the lowlands until his colleague, Scīpiō Aemiliānus, who had been reelected as cōnsul, had been successful in relieving the sieges of the western cities and taking the central highlands… a truly daunting task, to be sure.


Aemiliānus was aided by the Inumiden, whose king, Masensen, sent his own son, Prince Mikiwsen[43], to command an army of some 20,000 troops. However, while Aemiliānus was successful in relieving the sieges of Lilybaíon, Drépanon, and Segesta, which gave him an extra 30,000 troops at his disposal (with Roman legionaries from Lilybaíon and Drépanon and Elymian volunteers from Segesta), he was not able to claim the central highlands, suffering a major setback at the Battle of the Hypsas River[44], where Markáitos and the rebels were successful in causing a stampede of the elephants that the Inumiden had ferried over, which was not only successful in devastating their troops, but killing their prince. This left the rebels in control of the bulk of the island for much of the winter, but Aemiliānus would indeed prove that he could fill the shoes of his family the following year in the closing months of the winter of 163 (150) when he and the Inumiden general Sufaks were successful in outmaneuvering Markáitos at the Battle of Mount Leberēs[45] and breaking the rebels’ center. This allowed the Rōmānī to gain the high ground, while the rebels regrouped at Herákleia Minṓa[46], but the central highlands were still not under their control. The rebels had garrisoned and added to the fortifications of the Castra Nicia[47], from whence an army under two Sikanian generals, Mosgogónos[48] and Ā́trox[49], was dispatched to deal with them, which was initially successful in doing so, but ended up being defeated near Óros-tôn-Hierā́kōn[50] and forced back to the fortress briefly, before the previously defeated reinforcements at Herákleia Minṓa under Markáitos arrived to break the siege.


By now, it was becoming abundantly clear that the Rōmānī could not reclaim the island on their own without pulling more troops from Hellā́s or drawing more levies, and it seemed that few were willing to volunteer in light of the constant setbacks that the military had faced in recent years. The Senātus therefore, sent an expedition to Hellā́s to demand the aid of the Republic’s allies there, with special emphasis being placed in Ápeiros and Akhāḯā, both of whom made a series of excuses as to why they were unable to provide aid. Rhódos, having been snubbed by the Lord of Asíā, who was not impressed with their envoys following the Siege of Mount Bēlos, was the only Roman ally in the whole of Hellā́s who responded to these demands, promising 25,000 men from the island of Krḗtē. They were however stopped by a Seleukidian fleet that had blocked the harbor of the city itself while the Roman ambassadors were present.


The fleet was under the command of a certain Diódotos of Skythópolis, who reminded the Roman ambassadors that duly elected representatives of the Roman Republic had signed two treaties with two separate Seleukidian kings to release the Molossian slaves and pay indemnities, and that in 13 years, the government had not made an attempt to meet either of these terms. He specified that if the Rōmānī failed to meet these terms, that war would be upon them… in Sicilia… which would be claimed by the Lord of Asíā for his loyal agents there. Interestingly enough, ancient writers seem to agree that the Molossian árkhōn, Newoptólemos, and Dēmḗtrios were not in communication, and that the two came to the same conclusion independently. Diódotos further specified that the ships of the Rhodian fleet, the bulk of which were in port and therefore unable to be mobilized, were now the property of the Lord of Asíā, and that Rhódos must enter into a permanent alliance with the Seleukídai, thereby changing its allegiances completely. In short, the Rōmānī would not be getting those reinforcements from Krḗtē…


The Rōmānī considered this an act of war, but not one that they could do much about. Neither the Koinòn tōn Akhaiōn nor the Koinòn tōn Āpeirōtân had responded to their demands for support in Sicilia, and they had already withdrawn a significant number of troops from the region. A formal conference to discuss the matter was arranged by the ambassadors to take place at Kórinthos, in the territory of the allied Koinòn tōn Akhaiōn, between representatives of the Seleukídai and the two incumbent Roman cōnsulēs. During the deliberations on the matter in the Senātus, Mārcus Porcius Catō Māior delivered his last speech to the Senātus, in which he shamed the landowning classes of Rōma for their decadence and philhellenism, and especially for their cowardice in dealing with the matter of a slave revolt, saying that the Rōmānī had defeated the Molossoi before and won against even greater odds in his lifetime, and finally finishing with his notorious comment that Qart-Ḥadašt must be destroyed, but also saying that the Héllēnes must be “reminded of their place, lest Rōma be undone”. Indeed, a powerful speech from perhaps the city’s most tenured politician, but it fell on deaf ears at the time that it was given, as the other senators were not as confident in the supremacy of the Republic as Catō. Therefore, the Rōmānī would send their cōnsulēs, Lūcius Calpurnius Pīsō Caesōninus and Sextus Jūlius Caesar, while the Lord of Asíā would be represented by Stēsíkhoros of Kýrrhos, the incumbent epistolográphos[51], and Brýsōn of Ephesos, the epí tôn pragmátōn[52]. This conference, which was mediated by a host of Akhaian representatives, most especially Polýbios and Phýlakos, who had both been captives in Ītalia previously, but were widely recognized as being of neutral disposition.


The Roman cōnsulēs made the Seleukidian officials aware of the proposals that had been offered to Newoptólemos by Scīpiō Aemiliānus, including the promise of freedom for the Molossian slaves, who would have been allowed to have been received by the Seleukídai wherever they would like to take them, and that the offer was still standing. However, it was the position of the Lord of Asíā that solely freeing the Molossian slaves in Sicilia would be impractical, as it had been nearly 20 years since their enslavement, and that intermarriage was sure to have happened. Thus, the Molossian slaves would have to be freed, together with their families, for which the Lord of Asíā was willing to pay the slave owners for the value of property lost, so long as the Senātus agreed to pay the indemnity of the Treaty of Dáphnē. They warned that if these terms were not met, that Sicilia would be invaded, and set up as a neutral buffer-state along the lines of Makedōnía between the Roman Republic and the Seleukídai, on whom the two governments would have to agree to ratify the elections of Sicilian árkhontes.


Seeing as a number of the slave owners in question were not of Roman but Italian/Latin origins, the proposal of the Seleukídai seemed reasonable enough to the two cōnsulēs. After all, Newoptólemos had issued a proclamation to the peoples of Ītalia, and the Rōmānī feared that if the war in Sicilia were to result in the total loss of sovereignty over the island, that the Republic’s Italian allies might reconsider their alliances. However, the terms did not solve the matter of the indigenous peoples of the island who had risen in the rebellion which Newoptólemos and his government represented. Surely, Newoptólemos would not accept the terms if these people were not represented in them, a fact of which the cōnsulēs made the Seleukidian representatives aware. Subsequently, Stēsíkhoros and Brýsōn, who represented a government always willing to accept new Hellenic migrants, offered to take the entire rebel population to Ioudaía, a most troublesome province that was in need of just such a solution.


Notes


1. In this timeline, I am positing that the Paeonian dialects are part of a sister-branch of Indo-European to Greek together with the Ancient Macedonian language, based on the available evidence, which is indeed scanty. The personal name Kotúdotos therefore can be translated as “given by Kótus”, which indicates that the Paeonian pantheon shares some deities in common with the Thracian one.
2. The name of the Paeonian capital can be translated as “shining/white spring”, in reference to the snow that the area receives regularly during the spring. This in turn would indicate an o-grade of PIE *bhel- “bright, shining, light”, which demonstrates that Paeonian shares Cowgill’s Law in common with Hellenic. The second element is from*yeh1- “year”, which reveals that Paeonian has also undergone a similar process of palatalization as the Greek dialects. Although, just as in Ancient Greek, this palatalization had different results in the different dialects of Paeonian, with Central Paeonian/Almopian Bulā́dōra, Eastern Paeonian Bulā́dzōra.
3. Modern Elassona, in Thessaly.
4. Perrhaebia, a region of northern Thessaly.
5. I do apologize for the break in local color here, but I don’t really like the use of “Rasnan/Rasnaian” as adjectives to describe Etruscans here. We know that their endonym was Rasna, which in the genitive would have come out as Rasnal.
6. Elephants were likely still extant, though seriously endangered in Mesopotamia and the Levant at this time.
7. The Punic Wars. Note that the sound shift of /dw/ to /b/ as not yet taken place in Latin, which would yield the more familiar form Bella.
8. I cannot say that the Rōmānī hiked the grain tithe on the Sicilians for certain, although it does seem like something they would do in light of their treatment of those of them that sided with Carthage.
9. This also is conjecture on my part. According to the Lex Hieronica, the decumani had to be Sicilian in origin, and given that the other Sicilian peoples had not been allies of the Republic when it conquered the island, it seems likely to me that the Elymians would have been the primary staff.
10. This is not conjecture on my part, but completely historical. The Elymians did indeed claim descent from a certain Prince Elymos of Troy, and the Rōmānī claimed descent from Aeneas, which, put together with the fact that they had allied with the Rōmānī during their invasion of Sicily gave them a privileged, tax-exempt status.
11. This is indeed a little bit of conjecture on my part, yet again. Scholars and linguists disagree on the origins of the Sicani and Siculi, although theories regarding an affinity to the Ligurians are growing in popularity. The name Tarkuástros is taken from Adolfo Zavaroni’s essay La lingua degli antichi Liguri. Iscrizioni e figure sacre su due rocce di Campocatino (Alpi Apuane), which is available here (http://www.academia.edu/24851735/La...acre_su_due_rocce_di_Campocatino_Alpi_Apuane_) for anyone who is interested. He links the name to PIE *terkw- “to turn” and *h2stḗr “star”, which would mean something like “star-turner”, in the sense that the sky is like a wheel. Such a hypothetical deity might be very useful for navigators, and so ITTL, he is the deity that guided an ancient population from the Northwestern Italian coast to Sicily.
12. Roughly corresponding to the highlands around modern Genoa.
13. An Ancient Greek term for teenagers, probably below the age of 17 or 18.
14. Modern Taormina, Sicily.
15. Modern Catania, Sicily.
16. Mount Etna, Sicily.
17. The /w/ here is present because it had not yet been dropped in the Northwest Doric dialect that would have been spoken by the Epirotes at the time.
18. This is a constructed name of mine containing the name of a hypothetical Siculo-Ligurian water/maritime deity whom I have named Markos. This name is from PIE mark-/*merk- “wet” and is therefore a cognate with Proto-Germanic *marhin “a kind of soup”. The second element of the name can be traced to PIE *h2éy- “to give, to take”, and is therefore a cognate to Ancient Greek aîtos “share”.
19. Here we are also using the Doric pronunciation of the words, as the progenitors of the office in this context are speakers of the Northwest Doric dialect.
20. These are the Second Celtiberian War and the Lusitanian War.
21. The contemporary name of modern Calabria, which original actually referred to modern Puglia… go figure.
22. Contemporary native endonym of Samnium.
23. A number of the Samnites sided with Hannibal Barca during his invasion of Italy.
24. River Calore, in Italy.
25. Contemporary native name of Benevento, Italy.
26. Plistica, an old city southwest of Benevento.
27. Montesarchio, in the Province of Benevento, Italy.
28. Suessula, an ancient city between the modern towns of Capua and Nola.
29. Contemporary Greek name of Cumae, now modern Cuma, a village near Bacoli in the Province of Naples, Italy.
30. Reggio Calabria, in the comune of Calabria, Italy.
31. Contemporary Greek name of Lilybaeum, now modern Marsala, in the Province of Trapani, Sicily.
32. Contemporary Greek name of Drepanum, now modern Drepana, in the Province of Trapani, Sicily.
33. Contemporary Greek name of Panormus, modern Palermo, Sicily.
34. Contemporary Greek name of Syracusae, modern Syracuse, in the Province of Syracuse, Sicily.
35. Contemporary native pronunciation of the Jalón River, one of the tributaries of the Ebro in the Province of Aragón, Spain.
36. Contemporary Roman name of the Guadiana River, modern Spain and Portugal. The name can be translated as “river of ducks”.
37. Possible contemporary native pronunciation of the tribal name Cessetānī. It is hypothesized by some historical linguists that the letter /s/ as written in the Iberian language may represent some kind of an affricate, perhaps alveolar or post-alveolar. ITTL, we will be going with the pronunciation as a post-alveolar affricate.
38. Possible contemporary native pronunciation of the tribal name Ilergetes.
39. Possible contemporary native pronunciation of the tribal name Austeānī.
40. Contemporary name of the Nebrodi Mountains, but also the modern Peloritani Mountains, in Northeastern Sicily.
41. Contemporary Greek name of Milazzo, Sicily.
42. Contemporary Greek name of Tindari, Sicily.
43. Contemporary native pronunciation of Micipsa, the son of Masinissa.
44. Contemporary Greek name of the Belice River, in Western Sicily.
45. A hypothetical contemporary indigenous name of the Monte Delle Rose, in the Monti Sicani in Southwestern Sicily.
46. An Ancient Greek city situated at the mouth of the the Platani river, in Southwestern Sicily.
47. Contemporary Roman name of the fort at modern Caltanissetta, in the Province of Caltanissetta, Sicily.
48. A hypothetical Sicanian name meaning “child of gulls”. From PIE *mesg- “to plunge, dip, sink” and *genh1- “to beget”.
49. A hypothetical Sicanian name meaning “dust/dark eye”. From PIE *ātr- “to burn?” (possible cognates in Latin āter “dark” and Old Armenian ayrem “to burn”) and *h3ókws “eye, face”.
50. A hypothetical contemporary name of the Serra del Falcone, near Serradifalco, in the Province of Caltanissetta, Sicily.
51. An office roughly equivalent to the modern Secretary of State.
52. An office roughly equivalent to the office of Grand Vizier.
 
The Reign of Dēmḗtrios I Nikátōr Sōtḗr – 151-180 (162-134)


Following the defeat of the Romans at Mount Bēlos, the Lord of Asíā put off any and all festivities celebrating their triumphs for his campaign against the Yǝhudic mercenaries of Ptolemaîos VIII Euergétēs, which would last from the winter of 153 to the spring of 154 (160-159). Naturally, the knowledge that came as a result of the campaign that the Jews in question had come from Kyrēnaïkḗ and were in the employ of the contested King of Aígyptos caused the campaign to spill over into that country, which ended with the defeat and exile of Ptolemaîos to Rōma and the marriage of Dēmḗtrios and Queen Kleopátra II, bringing Aígyptos under the protection of the Seleukídai until her eldest son, Ptolemaîos IX Eupátōr, came of age to rule the country himself. The inhabitants of the city of Yerušalaim welcomed the new Lord of Asíā and named him Sōtḗr, hoping that in so doing, the king would grant them their sovereignty and control of their shrine, which was done. However, the temple had been rendered ritually impure by the cultic practices of the Héllēnes, and therefore was no longer fit for continued use in the minds of many, which caused a break in the Jewish faith, with the Yǝhudim of Aígyptos erecting their own temple at Leontópolis (for which they cited the prophecy of Yəšạʻyā́hû), and a second branch departing for Nəhardəʿā, where a new school of Judaism would develop in the decades to come that focused on mysticism rather than literal pilgrimage. This schism allowed the temple to be repurposed as a temple to Zéus Moríā[1], and a massive temple complex, complete with a fort, and a fitting façade, was built over the frame of the old, less-cosmetically pleasing temple. Although the architects employed for the job were merely trying to work around the existing structure, the building that would be colloquially known as Iḗhouas palaíos[2] would in time be one of a few different buildings across the domains of the Seleukídai that would inspire a new kind of syncretic architecture that would blend Oriental and Hellenistic styles[3].


Meanwhile, Yerušalaim was renamed Dēmētriás, and was formally recognized as a Hellenic polis, and was scheduled to be settled with those of the Molossoi that the Romans were able to return. However, the Roman Senātus refused to ratify that part of the so-called Treaty of Dáphnē, and also the parts about the partition of Pérgamon and the indemnity. Furthermore, while Aléxandros VI was returned to his kingdom, and the partition of Makedōnía dissolved and the Roman garrisons withdrawn, Roman garrisons did not withdraw from other parts of Hellā́s, such as Ápeiros and Petthalía. At least, not at first. The garrisons that had previously been stationed in Makedōnía were moved to the surrounding client states of Paeonía and Sapaía, but also to Lynkāstís, which was supposed to be a Seleukidian client, so as to surround the Makedṓnes and prevent them from expanding. For the moment, the Seleukídai were content with the status quo, so long as they were free to annex Pergamene lands, which they were warned not to do by Roman embassies, though the Romans took no action in actually preventing them from doing so, although said embassies were successful in guaranteeing the freedom of the city of Pérgamon itself… the time being. The Seleukídai did not move for Rhodian possessions on the mainland of Anatolḗ however, which came as a surprise to the city’s politicians as their proposal of further conflict against Rōma in an attempt to appease the Lord of Asíā had been rather poorly received. Thus, they would operate off of the assumption of neutrality in the coming years while the two powers licked their wounds.


Matters would change however with the Great Sicilian Revolt of 160 (154), which presented an opportunity for the Lord of Asíā to weaken the Romans and sour popular conceptions of them in Hellā́s for their refusal to free the Molossian slaves and pay their indemnity. The agreement that was struck with the Roman consuls at the conference in Kórinthos however, was thought to be beneficial to both parties, as Dēmḗtrios would receive a previously unprecedented number of Hellenic settlers with which to colonize the troublesome region of Ioudaía in a single massive wage, and the Rēs Pūblica Rōmāna would no longer have to contend with indigenous people’s of Sicilia whose loyalties were questionable, thus opening up vast territories that had previously been available to real estate speculation. The terms of course of the Seleukídai for accepting the Molossoi and the indigenous peoples of Sicilia (which involved compensation of slave owners for their property) stipulated that the Rēs Pūblica Rōmāna must first meet a payment of 5,500 talents of silver, which combined the cost of those Molossian slaves not returned and the royalty for their invasion of Syría, as outlined in the Treaty of Dáphnē. The Senātus was reluctant to ratify the agreement, though capitulated when nearly the entire country of Hellā́s rose in revolt and cast out the Roman garrisons in what would come to be known as the Hellenic War, which began and ended in the year 166 (148). However, the war did not have the effect of driving Rōma from garrisoning her client states in the area.


As a result of the migration of the Molossoi and their Sicilian allies, a number of Hellenic cities in the region of Ioudaía experienced considerable expansion, including Antiókheia Ptolemaḯs[4], Gádara[5], Pélla[6], Philadélpheia[7], Paneiás[8], Skythópolis, and especially Dēmētriás (Yerušalaim), although a new city would also be founded at the right bank of the Iordánēs River[9] at the head of the Sea of Galīlaía that was called Makhairoûs[10]. The Hellenic deity of the old Yǝhudic temple, which had recently been rededicated to Zéus Moríās, would therefore acquire another epithet as Eleutherōtḗs[11], a patron deity of freedom and the ‘downtrodden’. In Sicilia, large tracts of land became open to purchase by speculators, parts of which were set aside for veterans’ colonies, but the bulk of which was bought up by the wealthy classes of Rōma and Ītalia, who then leased sections of it to veterans whom they contracted to work on their estates.


The seizure of Pergamene lands of course, once again brought the Seleukídai to the shores of the Arkhipélagos and gave them a say in the affairs of Hellā́s, which they were only concerned with insomuch as it provided them with a source for able-bodied young Héllēnes. Following the security of matters in the west, Eukratídēs was allowed to return to his sub-kingdom in the east, where his son had eradicated the last of the Euthydēmídai west of the Paropamisádai[12], which left him content to leave Ménandros I Sōtḗr as the King of Indikḗ so long as he was content to remain such. Eukratídēs’ two sons, Eukratídēs the Younger and Hḗlioklēs, were then married to Euthydemidian princesses; the former to Antímakhē, the daughter of Antímakhos I, and the latter to Khrysógonē, the sister of Ménandros, while Ménandros took Eukratídēs’ daughter, Hellaníkē, so as to formally end hostilities between the two kingdoms[13]. Eukratídēs then divided the kingdom between his two sons, with the elder Eukratídēs ruling Tapuría, Traxianḗ, Sogdianḗ, and Eskhatēnḗ[14], while his eldest son, Hḗlioklēs would rule Baktrianḗ, the Paropamisádai, and Arakhōsía after his father’s death.


The so-called Basileús eis tḗn Anatolḗ, or the King in the East, further requested Hellenic philosophers be brought to the east, as the region was “increasingly infected” by the teachings of an “Indian sophist”, to whose philosophy he knew his rival, Ménandros had succumbed. He then spent the remainder of his tenure in his capital at Alexándreia-toû-Óxou[15], while his son Eukratídēs the Younger campaigned against the Saka in the Iaxártēs Valley, which was conquered in the name of the Lord of Asíā and settled with Paíones from the Tauros Mountains, Phrýges, and Héllēnes, particularly from the cities of Krḗtē, but also from Petthalía over the course of the next decade. During this time, two major invasions of the kingdom were repulsed – the first had been by the Saka, but a second by a people that the Héllēnes of the east called the ‘Koússanoi’[16], who were migrating not from the northeast. The repulsion of this second invasion sparked the interest of the King in the East and his sons, who commissioned adventurers to not only to explore the mountain passes, but to travel beyond them, and ascertain the political situation there. A certain of Alkétas of Kordyēnḗ was the first Héllēn to travel to the valley of the headwaters of the Óxos[17], which was inhabited by a strange people who spoke a language unrelated to the various languages of the Aryans[18], and were happy to accept the rule of the Seleukídai. Not only were these people docile, but they incorporated a particularly striking bright green stone into their elaborate headdresses that they referred to as motsartsi[19], which was brought back to Eukratídēs at Alexándreia-toû-Óxou, who recognized it as líthos nephritikós, or jade. The King in the East then commissioned the same Alkétas to discover its source.


This expedition, after cataloguing the mountain passes as shown by their local guides, traveled first to a town called Kásagara[20], which had been known to the Héllēnes of the Iaxártēs during the reign of the Euthydēmídai. The region was apparently in utter political turmoil, with various ethnic groups fighting over it, which Alkétas wrote about in a perplexed manner, mostly because a “great power in the furthest east, beyond the setting of the sun” that he called variously ‘Tastraía/Tastraïkḗ’[21] was very interested in establishing its dominance over it, as jade seemed to be of great value to its people. However, while his lists of the kingdoms of the region are incomplete, he is known to have traveled to the court of the ‘tarkános’[22], the king of a people he referred to as the ‘Khíōnes’[23], who were the sworn enemies of Tastraïkḗ, and also to the court of the ‘Berniā́ssoi’[24], who allegedly held him prisoner for a few years before he and his companions were able to make their escape. Modern scholars tend to doubt the authenticity of Alkétas’ claims as far as his interactions with the courts of the Khíōnes and the Berniā́ssoi are concerned, although his description of the socio-political situation at the time was mirrored to some degree in the documents of the contemporary historians of the Far East.


At the end of his expedition, he penned the Ektóbasis, some of which has been lost to history, but would nonetheless prove to be an influential work on Western perceptions of the Far East and would inspire numerous successive expeditions over the course of the next century. He is also known to have beseeched Eukratídēs to move against the peoples of the region in the interest of controlling the trade of jade. The king was more interested in pursuing political alliances with the various peoples of the area however, and also with sending an embassy to the land of Tastraïkḗ to meet with their ruler. Alkétas however, does not appear to have been commissioned again, the reasons for which are not known, though it would appear that the Ektóbasis was his only literary work, which may suggest that he died shortly after completing it.


This second expedition was led by Páris of Alexandrópolis[25], and departed in the year 169 (145), though Páris and the majority of the members of the expedition never returned. Instead, only one of its junior members, one Telesphóros of Alexandrópolis, returned 11 years later in 179 (135), claiming that the expedition had been first imprisoned, and then robbed, and that the Khíōnes had murdered the other members. This second expedition, was a formal embassy sent to represent the Lord of Asíā whose mission it was not only to contact the so-called ‘Basileús tês Tastraïkês’, but to “ascertain the nature of his kingdom, and give a proper accounting of its military and its inner workings, and to extend the friendship of the Lord of Asíā”. Telesphóros recounted that Páris elected to follow a different route from the one of Alkétas’ Ektóbasis, and therefore did not document the same towns and polities that can be found in Alkétas’ work, traveling along the northern edges of a desert that he named ‘Keinotēnḗ’[26], visiting the towns of ‘Arkíāpā’[27], ‘Koússa’[28], ‘Ouātís’[29], ‘Ārsís’[30], and ‘Kroléina’[31].


According to Telesphóros account, the embassy had been able to proceed through the other cities “unfettered and unmolested”, however it was in the town of Kroléina that they were halted by a certain King ‘Bissasáilēs’[32], and handed over to the Khíōnes of Alkétas’ Ektóbasis, where their gifts and decrees were seized by the tarkános, a man he calls Indrasṓthrēs[33], who was apparently the suzerain of the Tastraíoi. Telesphóros gives a detailed account of the court and politics of the Khíōnes, as well as their military and customs. He also corroborates the claims of suzerainty, writing that the ruler of the Khíōnes received a number of brides from the nobility of Tastraïkḗ as tribute to placate his constant invasions of that country. Finally, he writes about a certain Takránēs[34], an ambassador of Tastraïkḗ who had been enslaved. Most of the other members of the embassy are recorded to have met their deaths either in the various intrigues of the court or attempting to escape. Telesphóros records that at the time that he was able to escape, Páris of Alexandrópolis was still alive, at least to his knowledge, albeit he had been made the slave of a banished nobleman for his intrigues with one of the concubines of the tarkános.


Further west, the decade of the mid-150s (early 150s BCE) for many of the Héllēnes in the cities of Syría, would be characterized by gossip of the palatial intrigues of the various wives of the king and their children. Dēmḗtrios would father three sons by his queen, who came to be known as Nýssa of Babylṓn - Dēmḗtrios, Antíokhos, and Antígonos – and two daughters – Nýssa and Laodíkē. He would also father two sons by Kleopátra II – the twins Séleukos and Neoptólemos. The king also took another wife, controversially, from a notable family of Smýrnē named Dēmoníkē, who was the sister of his general, Aléxandros of Smýrnē[35]. By Dēmoníkē he fathered another son – Aléxandros – and three daughters – Dēmoníkē, Selḗnē, and Androphílē. Between his eleven children and his three wives, ancient playwrights would have more than enough palatial intrigue to write about in the centuries to come, particularly surrounding Queen Nýssa[36], who was later executed for her part in the murders of Kleopátra II and two of her sons – Ptolemaîos IX Eupátōr and Séleukos – and the attempted murder of her other sons, Ptolemaîos and Neoptólemos in the year 164 (150). Her execution marked a change in the administration of the empire, with a number of government offices, including provincial governorships, being purged of those members of her private circle. However, it would also mark a change in foreign policy, as the next King of Póntos would be her brother, Mithridátēs V, who would end the alliance struck by his uncle and Antíokhos IV following his ascendance to the throne. Thus, when the Artašesyan[37] rebelled against the sovereignty of the Seleukídai in 165-168 (149-146), King Artavazd proposed the marriage of his daughter, Satenik, to the young King of Póntos, who graciously accepted and entered into an alliance in which he supported the Artašesyan against the Seleukídai.


This war, the so-called Armenian War, while securing independence for Armenía Megálē[38], was unable to do so for Sōphēnḗ or Kommagēnḗ, where both of the local stratēgoí had joined his rebellion and were subsequently deposed and replaced. It was also significant in that the Armenian king, Artavazd, invited the Koússanoi, who had by this time migrated around the Hyrkanian Sea[39] and subjugated a number of the Skýthai in their wake, into the country to aid in his battles against the Seleukídai. In return, they were allowed to settled the region of Ałuank, known to the Héllēnes as Albanía[40]. Thus was established the Kingdom of Kwïpălăk[41], in the valley of the River Kur[42].


Notes


1. The epithet means “Zeus of Moriah”. Many of the cultic practices of Judaism will be continuing for the time being, such as the sacrificial procedure, although they will gradually be Hellenizing as the overwhelming majority Jerusalem’s inhabitants will not be Jewish from here on out.
2. Literally meaning “Old Yahweh”, in reference to the temple’s previous use as the center of the Jewish religion.
3. Remember that the Second Temple did not receive the glorious Hellenistic/Mesopotamian-style façade that we associate with it today until the reign of Herod the Great. Before that, it is thought the temple was a much more mundane-looking structure, as it was not rebuilt with the money of a king but rather, by the few Jews that returned to Palestine under Persian rule (the archaeological record does not corroborate the Bible in this regard). Still, Herod built his façade over an existing structure, a structure which differed markedly from the typical Hellenistic temple. The new temple will include an expanded roof of the cella so as to allow there to be a single-layered stoa with Ionic columns with diagonal volutes and twisted fluting. The shafts of the columns are constructed from porphyry, while the ionic capitals are of white marble that is painted gold and blue. The rectangular façade of the temple does not permit for a regular Hellenistic-style pediment to be connected to the roof of the cella, and so the roof of the cella is left flat and lined with acroterion-like pinnacles along the cornicing. The new façade is adorned with a broken curved pediment, in the middle of which stands a golden statue of Dēmḗtrios I Nikátōr Sōtḗr dressed in Macedonian fashion, wearing the pointed crown of Hḗlios and the diadema. The façade is made of white marble, as are the pinnacles, which are also painted gold and blue, like the capitals of the columns. The old square entrance is retained but adorned by a seven-layered archway below which is a tympanum that depicts Zéus Mórias seated on the Ark of the Covenant.
4. Ptolemais in Phoenicia, which was later called Acre by the crusaders IOTL.
5. Modern Umm Qais, in the Irbid Governorate, Jordan.
6. An ancient Hellenistic city that was one of the Decapolis in the modern Irbid Governorate, Jordan.
7. Modern Amman, Jordan.
8. Today known as Banias, known to the Romans as Caesarea Philippi, near Mount Hermon, north of the Golan Heights, modern Syria.
9. The Jordan River.
10. On the same site as the Hasmonean city of Capernaum.
11. The name means “the liberator”.
12. Contemporary native name of the Hindu Kush Mountains.
13. None of these princesses are historical, and their existence is merely inserted for convenience, as there are a lot of holes in the family trees of these dynasties that have room for them.
14. The name of the province that encompasses the modern Fergana and Alay valleys.
15. Alexandria on the Oxus, or modern Ai-Khanoum, in Takhar Province, Afghanistan.
16. A Hellenization of Tocharian kucaññe “Kuchean, from Kucha”. This is indeed a reference to the Kushans, although this name still only refers to a certain tribe of them.
17. The Oxus, or Amu Darya River.
18. These are either a sister-group to or the ancestors of the modern Burusho people of Northern Pakistan, whose language, according to Ilija Čašule, retains extensive traces of contacts with speakers of Paleo-Balkan languages, likely indicative of a long period of bilingualism and cultural exchange between settlers brought to Central Asia during the Hellenistic Period. They are mentioned here as inhabiting the Alay Valley in modern Kyrgyzstan.
19. A bastardization of the Tocharian word for “green”, attested in Tocharian B as motartstse and in Tocharian A as motarci.
20. A Hellenization of contemporary Kāšaɣara. Modern Kashgar, in Xinjiang Province, China.
21. During imperial times in China, the nation was often referred to by the ruling dynasty. Thus, the land would have been referred to as漢朝, which at the time, according to the Baxter-Sagart reconstructions and the evolution of Old Chinese to Middle Chinese, might have been pronounced something like Hnˤans Traw. The forms Tastraía/Tastraïkḗ would be Tocharian translations of the term, which might have come out as Tañstraw-, or something of the like, as the voiceless alveolar nasal might have been rendered a voiceless alveolar plosive.
22. A Hellenization of the possibly Iranian word tarxan, which used as a title of nobility variously among Iranian/Trukic/Mongolic-speaking peoples.
23. A Hellenization of *Hyōna, possibly the native name of the Xiongnu according to H.W. Bailey.
24. A Hellenization of a hypothetical Tocharian ethnonym – Wïrnaśśi – meaning “people of the crow”, based on the hypothesis that the Chinese ethnonym 烏孫 (Wūsūn) represents a translation of the tribal name.
25. Alexandria in Arachosia. Modern Kandahar, in Kandahar Province, Afghanistan.
26. Translated as “place of emptiness; empty country”. A Hellenistic name for the Taklamakan Desert.
27. A Hellenization of a hypothetical Tocharian toponym, Ārkwi Āpa “white water”, in reference to the city of Aksu, whose name has the same literal translation today, but is of Turkic origin.
28. A Hellenization of Tocharian Kuca. Modern Kucha, Xinjiang Province, China.
29. A Hellenization of a hypothetical Tocharian toponym, Wïtă “second, other”. The word itself is a reconstructed Proto-Tocharian form based off of Tocharian B wate and Tocharian A wät (in the traditional orthography, which I can’t stand).
30. A Hellenization of Tocharian Ārśi. Modern Karasahr, Xinjiang Province, China.
31. A Hellenization of Tocharian Kroräina. Modern Loulan, Xinjiang Province, China.
32. A Hellenization of Tocharian Wïsaṣṣayïla, meaning “golden gazelle”.
33. A Hellenization of the hypothetical Eastern Iranian name Indrazothrā, which means “offering of Indra”.
34. A Hellenization of the contemporary Old Chinese Ʈaŋ Khran (張騫), which we know today as Zhāng Qiān, the famous Chinese diplomat and adventurer who is thought to have traveled as far as the Levant, although at the time had been imprisoned at the court of the Xiongnu. Here the name has not gone through the same process of bastardization via Tocharian pronunciation because Telephorus had direct contact with Zhang Qian. Thus, the retroflex /ʈ/ has been rendered /t/ instead of /tr/.
35. This is the Alexander Balas that we know from IOTL, however the Seleucid government was not utterly destabilized by the rule of Antiochus V and his vizier, Heracleides, and so he has ended up a loyal servant of the Lord of Asia instead of a rival.
36. Nyssa of Cappadocia as she was known IOTL is known to have murdered her own children IOTL so as to put her most favorite son on the throne. She is one of three wives ITTL, and doesn’t have the same sort of influence at court as she did in Cappadocia IOTL, although she commits the murders that she does to ensure that her son will rule as Lord of Asia instead of one of his other brothers… particularly the sons of Demetrius and Cleopatra, whom she fears represent the best candidates for the Seleucid throne as they could merge Egypt and Anatolia permanently.
37. The Artaxiad Dynasty of Armenia.
38. Greater Armenia.
39. The Caspian Sea.
40. Caucasian Albania.
41. Modern Qabala, in Qabala District, Azerbaijan.
42. Contemporary name of the Kura River in Georgia and Azerbaijan.
 
Corruption, Changing Alliances, and Consolidation


The 18 years of the reign of Dēmḗtrios I Nikátōr Sōtḗr was not only significant for its scandals of palatial intrigue and the beginnings of contact with the Far East. Indeed, in the Mesógeios Sea, politics had been changed, perhaps irrevocably so, particularly in the Rēs Pūblica Rōmāna, but also in Hellā́s, where the Rōmānī were entirely cast out by a popular uprising of the people there.


In the Rēs Pūblica , the population transfer of the indigenous peoples and the Molossian/Makedonian slaves had established two precedents in the collective conscience of the citizens and subject peoples – that slave revolts could be successful against professional Roman legions, and that the Rēs Pūblica was no longer the unquestioned power of the Mesógeios. The Rēs Pūblica had also lost the war in Sicilia in the court of public opinion, which made four wars in a row that soldiers had had to come home to farms in disrepair with nothing to show for their years on campaign, if they came home at all. Indeed, a number of soldiers never came home, such as the 7,000 men under the command of the former cōnsul, Pūblius Cornelius Scīpiō Aemiliānus Āfricānus, who had died in the Montēs Nebrodes, leaving their wives the responsibility of tending to farms and raising children simultaneously. Certainly, a great number of women were able to remarry and find fathers to stand in for their sons, but a great number of them also continued as widows, and found themselves unable to juggle the task of caring for small children and seeing that the seeds be sewn and crops be harvested. Banditry in the countryside among disaffected young men therefore became increasingly abundant during the late 160s and early 170s, and also organized crime in the cities, particularly in Rōma herself, where many veterans who had sold their farms had gone with their families looking for work. It was thought that the vast tracts of land that had been ceded to the state by the Sikanoi and Sikeloi would present a new opportunity for veteran families, and indeed it did for a great many of them, as at least 20 veterans’ colonies were founded in the interior of the island. However, many others found themselves in exactly the same position that they had been in Ītalia proper, as rich pātriciī and plēbēiī alike ended up buying the overwhelming majority of the new ager pūblicus, despite the fact that most of them were buying properties far in excess of 500 iūgera, which was a patent violation of the Lēx Licinia Sextia, although an increasing number of senātōrēs seemed to be interested in the subject. Still, a considerable number of veterans, mostly Italians, found themselves working these large estates as wage laborers, though their wages often could only barely sustain them and their families.


The ongoing expansion of the landless masses was beginning to create problem for the Rēs Pūblica, one that became very obvious when envoys of a certain King Abbegei[1] II in Āfrica arrived at the Roman colony of Corduba, complaining of Lusitanian raids on the cities of Tingi[2], Tamuda, and Lix[3]. To put it simply, the number of landowning citizens from which the government could recruit to go to war in Lūsītānia to acquire a new ally that might be used to check the new King Gulussen[4] of the Inumiden, whose loyalties were questionable given the status of his assent to the throne, had dwindled considerably. It was also getting increasingly difficult to recruit among the Italian allies, who generally seemed to see such a war as a fool’s errand and preferred to remain at home and work off the debt that the Senātus was still unwilling to pay (having submitted only the royalty and the fee for the Molossian/Makedonian slaves). This would result in the proposal of certain military reforms by ambitious politicians looking to further their careers as patrons of the army and the veterans. These reforms were spearheaded by Scīpiō Aemiliānus, a rising centrist who spoke regularly on the floor of the Senātus echoing the sentiments of the now deceased Mārcus Porcius Catō on the increasingly wealthy and decadent city of Qart-Ḥadašt, who saw them as necessary in terms of the continued military stability of the Rēs Pūblica, which he argued was apt for invasion if the status quo between east and west could not be maintained.


In this, he who found an unlikely ally in Appius Claudius Pulcher[5], a moderate who had been speaking about reforming landownership since the signing of the Treaty of Léptis, but also Quīntus Caecilius Metellus, and of course his own brother, Quīntus Fabius Maximus Aemiliānus. Among the reforms proposed, it would be mandatory that portions of the ager pūblicus in Sicilia be allotted to retiring veterans, who, should they be of Italian origins, would also be granted citizenship after a period of service of 15 years. The so-called iūs ēmeritōrum, or “veterans’ right” was a popular measure, particularly among the conservatives of the Senātus, but unfortunately, many of the same conservatives were wealthy land speculators who had rapidly leased lands from the newfound ager pūblicus of Sicilia well in excess of the 500 iūgera limit, and therefore did not want to alot their own acquired lands. Furthermore, because Aemilānus and his associates were unwilling to accept a half measure, none of their proposals passed at all. This bill, the Lex Caecilia Aemiliāna, would come to represent a point at which parties in the Senātus would diverge seemingly irreconcilably for the next decade at least. Metellus and Aemiliānus would later be sent to Hispānia to deal with the problem of the Lūsītānī, which they were able to do, albeit not in a decisive manner that would ensure that they would no longer be a threat to Roman interests, as they had by now allied with the Vēttōnes and the Belli. Still, Aemiliānus would be elected to his first consulātus in 168 (146), in which he would emerge as the undisputed leader of the conservative faction for the next decade after raising yet another private army to reign in the tribes of Hispānia after the disastrous defeat of his hot-headed and arrogant nephew, Quīntus Fabius Maximus Servīliānus the year before.




***************




Following the Treaty of Léptis, the Kǝná’anim of Qart-Ḥadašt found themselves in a renewed position of strength that subsequently influenced the fall of the Rēs Pūblica Rōmāna from the position of hegemon of the Mesógeios. Though no longer the imperialist maritime power that they had been in years past, they now had a powerful ally in the Seleukídai that was committed to ensuring their future as an independent state so as to act as a buffer in the Central Mesógeios between Asíā and Rōma. The Seleukídai provided the Kǝná’anim with a great deal of logistical and financial support, including helping them to reform their military, which would now be a standing, professional army, with infantry troops from the cities that owed allegiance to the government at Qart-Ḥadašt. In return, the government of Asíā removed taxes on certain wares of Kǝna’anite merchants, specifically on agricultural products. Qart-Ḥadašt was further aided militarily following the migration of the indigenous peoples of Sicilia and the Molossian slaves, some thousands of whom accepted contracts as mercenaries, where they were employed to subdue the Igerramen of the southern desert and allowed to found their own city at Bēráneia[6], so named for the Sicilian goddess of the forests.


This serious change in the city-state’s geopolitical status meant a change in local politics and also in policy. Previously, the Zeqenim, the governing body of the city of Qart-Ḥadašt had been a strictly aristocratic elite, like the Roman patrician class, of the original families of the city. This had not, nor at any point in its history prior to the disastrous defeat of Ḥanni-Bá’al Barqa, been a democratically elected body. However, following the defeat of the city by the Rēs Pūblica Rōmāna, a new legislative assembly, the ‘Asefá ‘Irunit, or the Urban Assembly, which constituted a body of citizens from the city popularly elected, primarily from the newer, wealthier mercantile families. This body, like the Concīlium Plēbīs, had the final word on legislation that had passed the Zeqenim, although its members, unlike the members of the Concīlium Plēbīs, were barred from doubling as members of the Zeqenim. Furthermore, it could not initially propose legislation, a fact which changed after the Treaty of Léptis, when a number of dependent and politically unrepresented towns were added back to the dominions of the city of Qart-Ḥadašt itself as ārim (dependent colonies) who demanded not only representation in the ‘Asefá ‘Irunit, but also to be able to legislate their own affairs. Thus, a compromise was agreed upon within the Kǝna’anite government in which the ancient Zeqenim had power within the walls of the capital, but could only otherwise pass legislation and judgement on matters pertaining to foreign policy, while the domestic policy of the wider state was to be handled by the ‘Asefá ‘Irunit. Various departments concerning domestic affairs were therefore transferred to this new legislative body designed to represent the common people, which elect its own šuft’im, or judges, from its own ranks, while the departments of foreign affairs, particularly related to commerce remained under the control of Zeqenim and the šuft’im there. Thus, in effect, the state would have four different executive leaders whose roles were divided, with appointment of military generals being transferred to the šuft’im of the Zeqenim directly, who would also later be allowed to run for multiple terms.


However, the death of the old king of the Inumiden, Masensen, also spurred in a change in political alliances in the region, as the king’s eldest son, perhaps the most loyal to the Rēs Pūblica Rōmāna, had died in Sicilia during the Reduellātiō Magnus Servōrum, and his younger brother, Gulussen, had been made king. The first factor spurring this change, was the attention the Rēs Pūblica paid to the Lūsītānī after their raids of the Kingdom of Tingi[7], which Gulussen was not so dull as to not be able to see the implications of. Surely, the weakening of the holdings of King Abbegei, with whose father the Rōmānī had only had fleeting political relations, did absolutely nothing whatsoever to weaken Roman interests in Hispānia. So, engaging in such a micro-militaristic effort had to be aimed principally at gaining an ally in Āfrica, and an ally against whom? Masensen, out of all of the Rēs Pūblica ’s allies, had certainly been the least sure, having promised aid many times and usually failing to have delivered it. Indeed, it could be said that the only reason that he intervened in Sicilia was to protect his own interests, fearing the implications of the island falling into the hands of the Lord of Asíā, who was now a close ally of the country that he had personally betrayed during his tenure. And now the old opportunist had died, together with his son, perhaps Rōma’s most unapologetic foreign psychophant. Furthermore, the Rēs Pūblica ’s defeat of the coalition of the Vēttōnes, Belli, and Lūsītānī was so costly that it had crippled them for the time being. It seemed the peak of the Roman mountain had already been reached, meaning that there was only one way to go – down. The most sensible thing to do in the situation it seemed, was to renounce the legacy of his father and mend fences with Qart-Ḥadašt.


***************


Perhaps the most significant aspect of the reign of Dēmḗtrios I Nikátōr Sōtḗr, at least for his subjects at the time, was the extensive tour he took of his kingdom. Touring the kingdom to squash unruly vassals was a regular hallmark of Seleukidian monarchs, although it can be said that Dēmḗtrios was indeed the first of them to tour it so thoroughly, and also to travel so far. Indeed, while he never made it to the East, he is known to have toured thoroughly in Syría, Ioudaía, Anatolḗ, and Aígyptos. His tour of the kingdom would begin with a tour of the newly conquered regions of Anatolḗ, from whence he was married to the lady Dēmoníkē of Smýrnē. This portion of his tour began in the year 156 (157) in Kilikía, starting at Issós, where the victory of Aléxandros ho Mégas was commemorated with a grand imperial demonstration and the declaration of a new holiday – Issóeia, to be celebrated on the 5th of Apellaîos[8] of each year. Beginning in the following spring, he then journeyed west along the coast and visited the ancient cities of Tarsos, Zephýrion[9], Olbanópolis[10], and also Seleúkeia-toû-Kalýkadnou[11]. From here, he took the road northwest into the Tauros Mountains, where he was received by the king Zāġéianos of the Paíones there at a mountain stronghold called Honówina[12], who had supported him against the King of Pérgamon. Here, he negotiated the resettlement of the Paionian tribes of the region in the far east, as a proper reward for their loyalty to him, and also as a means of pacifying a people who had historically proved rather problematic for local rulers to keep under control. Continuing to the Pisidian city of Karallía[13] and then to Laodíkeia Katakekauménē[14], he would hold court at this small, and yet historically significant town, where Ariaráthēs V of Kappadokía and his wife Laodíkē V, the sister of the Lord of Asíā attended.


It was at court here in the autumn of the year 156 the queen was reunited with her son, Aléxandros VI, whom she had not seen since he was a child[15]. It was also here that a young and virile Aléxandros is recorded as not only having demonstrated his athletic and academic prowess, but also as having met his future wife, Philōtéra of Lynkāstís, at least in Seleukidian sources. The Makedonian and Hellenic writers place their meeting later, at his own court at Pélla. Still, the reunion of mother and son at Laodíkeia Katakekauménē was historically significant, principally as one of the markers of the end of Roman hegemony in Hellā́s, as it was the Rōmānī, following their victory against Laodíkeia’s husband Perseús, that had separated them, parading the Makedonian king and his sons before the Roman mob as captives.


Laodíkeia was subsequently given leave by her husband to continue the tour of Anatolḗ with her brother and her son, which turned west again to Philomélion[16], and then to Nikópolis, where he sacrificed to the goddess Níkē, and then took a detour to the city of Sýnnada[17], where he is said to have taken part in the local festivities surrounding the city’s founder, Ākā́mās, son of Thēseús. From here he continued into Phrygía, stopping at Aízanoí[18], where he not only took the time to sacrifice to Zéus at the temple there, which he rededicated to Zéus Sabázios, but also dawned Phrygian dress and engaged in Phrygian religious rites surrounding Sabázios and Kybélē, declaring his queen, Nýssa, to be a living embodiment of the goddess, and crowning her with a mural crown. He is said to have dawned the Phrygian dress through to Kotýaion[19], from whence he made his way to Ilion, which was outside the borders of his kingdom, yet nevertheless an important stop on his tour. Here, as Aléxandros ho Mégas had done, he and his companions took off their clothes and raced at the tomb Akhileús. However, he was not anointed with oil here, but rather made sure that his nephew, Aléxandros VI, the King of Makedōnía was, and all of them hung their garlands over the tomb.


It is said that on this voyage, neither king tried to hide their feelings for one another, and remained romantically involved during their stay at Adramýtteion, and at Pérgamon, where Dēmḗtrios received the homage of Áttalos II, and the king was forced to offer his teenage son as a hostage of the entourage, to return with it to Babylṓn. Aléxandros and Dēmḗtrios would part ways at Lésbos, where the royal entourage would spend the entire year of 159 (155). It was also here that Queen Nýssa was again deified at Mytilḗnē, and a new temple was erected in her honor. Though from Mytilḗnē, the Lord of Asíā went to Khíos, and then to the small port town of Kýsos[20], where yet another temple was dedicated to his queen, and the town was refounded as Nyssaía. Ancient writers are not in agreement as to why this was done however, with some speculating that the queen had been jealous of his romance with his young nephew, and it was an act of appeasement, while others seem to believe that it was at Kýsos that the king and the queen fell in love. Whatever the case, Dēmḗtrios took a third wife at Smýrnē, who was the sister of his general, Aléxandros of Smýrnē, with whom it has also been speculated that he had a romantic relationship, although it would later be revealed that Aléxandros and Queen Nýssa had been enamored with one another, and that he had had a hand in the murder of Kleopátra II. Nýssa was again deified at Magnēsía-toû-Sipýlou before a representation of Kybélē that was believed to be as ancient as the city of Ilion[21], where garlands were hung on the statue, and the queen was named Mḗtēr Kybélē Nikēphórē, or the “Victorious Mother Kybélē”, in commemoration of the defeat of Dēmḗtrios’ grandfather, Antíokhos III at Magnēsía, and the victory in the war in Syría, and the queen’s pivotal role in negotiating the alliances that had forced the Rōmānī to sail for Syría and not Anatolḗ.


Next, the king visited the city of Sárdeis, where he is recorded as having addressed the people in the native language of the country[22], made offerings at local temples, and having dedicated the grounds for a new gymnásion. At Ephesos, which was his next stop, the king was hailed as the living manifestation of Apóllōn-Hḗlios, where he dawned a solar crown and was received with great festivities, although the festivities would not match those at Mílētos, where the king ordered that the grandiose temple to Apóllōn-Hḗlios at Dídyma be completed. It is in fact, off of the statements of the oracle at Dídyma that scholars both ancient and modern in part base their speculation that Dēmḗtrios fell in love with his queen, Nýssa, at Kýsos, as she is recorded as having said…


“At Kýsos you will lay a trap for yourself that will cost you what is most dear to you. Perhaps our king is a fool. But at the most ancient city, you made a dynasty that will reign immortal. So, perhaps he is wise indeed.”



Dēmḗtrios is said to have been confused by the oracle, which is also thought to have changed his demeanor with regards to his queen. However, how he interpreted the oracle is entirely up to the speculation of writers both ancient and modern, as none of his future actions as a ruler can be directly attributed to it. He would stay in Mílētos for the remainder of the year, which is where he received the embassy of the rebel Newoptólemos, who later became the árkhōn of Dēmētriás. For now however, beginning at the end of the winter of 161 (153), he traveled by way of the Maíandros River in Karía to the region of Lykía, a sacred region for the cult of Apóllōn, stopping at Telebehi, which the Héllēnes knew as Telmēssós[23], and Pttara, which the Héllēnes knew as Pátara[24]. At both cities he was worshipped as Apóllōn-Hḗlios, but at Pttara he declared his recognition of the Lykian League and the liberty of its people. He then sailed for Pamphylía, one of the most ancient and isolated regions of Hellenic settlement in Anatolḗ, where he visited the cities of Pergā[25], where he ordered the expansion of the ancient temple of Artemis there, and participated in local festivities in her honor. He is also said to have taken a particular interest in the local dialect of Hellenic, which he assigned the historian Kléōn of Lárisa to write a dictionary for, and left him there while he traveled to the port city Sídē, and then sailed for Anemoúrion[26], where he paid homage at the temple of the local god of the wind, and then retired to Dáphnē.


The remainder of the year would be spent in Syría, principally at Dáphnē, though his tour of his domains would later include Phoinḯkē[27], Ioudaía, and especially Aígyptos. In Syría, the king is known to have paid special attention to the city of Ṣawba’[28], where the people received him as Ilāh hag-Gabal, the “god of the mountain”, in human form. The local temple here was expanded, as was the city, which was not settled with Héllēnes, but rather ethnic ‘Ārāmāyē tribespeople who had proven their loyalty to the Lord of Asíā by holding the mountain passes in Syría against the Rōmānī. From here, he is known to have traveled to Phoinḯkē, where records of his activities are generally rather sparse, although it is known that his wife, Kleopátra II was venerated as Ba’alat Gebal at the city of Gebal[29], an event which has been debated by historians for centuries. First and foremost, it can be noted that Ba’alat was the tutelary goddess of the city, and was a sister and consort to ‘Ēl, who, according to local tradition, had gifted her the city of Gebal. At a very early period in history, Aigyptian merchants had equated Ba’alat Gebal with their own goddess Aset, whom the Héllēnes knew as Isis, and had dedicated statues to her in Ba’alat’s temple some centuries earlier[30]. The Hellenic queens of Aígyptos had of course been recognized as living manifestations of Isis since the reign of queen Arsinóē II[31], who herself was worshipped as such at the Hellenic island of Dḗlos during her reign as a ‘guest-goddess’. However, the ancient Phoinikian city of Gebal had been an important port of rest for trade in the Mesógeios for thousands of years, and it was there that, according to one version of the story of Isis, she had retrieved her brother and husband Wesir, whom the Héllēnes knew as Ósiris, from a coffin. The so-called Ba’alat Gebal was also associated with the more widely venerated Phoinikian goddesses Aštart and Atar’atheh, who had already been Hellenized as Astártē and Atárgatis, who themselves were mostly indistinguishable at the time due to widespread syncretism and had been associated by the Héllēnes with Aphrodítē. Syncretizing these goddesses with the rapidly evolving divine cult brought the peoples of Syría, Mesopotamía, and Aígyptos together under what would be recognized as a single religion with various local manifestations and would represent an important step in the evolution of the Seleukidian monarchy.


Scholars however have continued to debate the king’s reasoning behind his veneration of Kleopátra, as he had already venerated his queen, Nýssa during his tour of his Anatolian territories. On one hand, there are those who use the deification of Kleopátra as evidence not only of the beginning of the king’s romance with his Kappadokian queen at Kýsos, but also that the king had interpreted the words of the oracle at Dídyma to mean that Nýssa would betray him. This school of thought further argues that his marriage to Kleopátra was strictly political, and that his veneration of her as a living representation of such goddesses as Isis, Atárgatis, and Astártē, who were all more widely worshipped within his domains than the Phrygian goddess Kybélē, demonstrate that he was replacing Nýssa with Kleopátra as his queen. After all, certain aspects of all of the goddesses in question overlapped, which, according to this school of thought, means that veneration of the queens would have been an exclusive affair, meaning that there was some sort of a serious rift in his relationship with Nýssa around this time that may or may not have been informed by the words of the oracle. This point of view is further strengthened by the statement of the oracle that ‘…at the most ancient city…’, Dēmḗtrios had made a dynasty that would ‘…reign immortal…’. The antiquity of the Aigyptian city of Mémphis was known at the time[32], and it was here that the king had both wedded Kleopátra, the heiress of Aígyptos, but also been crowned parǝḣo’[33]. It is therefore argued that the king had fallen in love with Nýssa at Kýsos, the woman who would eventually betray him, and that he sought to venerate Kleopátra above her, as it was the descendants of his sons by her that would reign as the future Lords of Asíā.


There are problems with this interpretation of events however, namely that Nýssa continued to be worshipped as the living Mḗtēr Kybélē Nikēphórē not only in Anatolḗ, but also in Syría and Mesopotamía. Also, this interpretation superimposes the modern notion of the exclusivity of deities onto antiquity, when worship was not exclusive, and therefore both queens could easily be deified simultaneously. Furthermore, Dēmḗtrios, the 6-year-old son of the king Dēmḗtrios I, had already been crowned as his heir-apparent and co-ruler in the West. However, whether or not Queen Nýssa was actually being replaced with Kleopátra because the king himself took the words of the oracle seriously, it is apparent that she felt this way and took them very seriously indeed. It has been speculated that part of her reasoning was because her son, Dēmḗtrios, did not survive childhood, and may have been born sickly, although contemporary writers do not state this. Although, she was mother to two other healthy sons, both of whom would later inherit the throne as Antíokhos VI Theós Philopátōr and Antígonos I Hiérax.


It is also known that in Phoinḯkē, Dēmḗtrios ordered the reconstruction of the city of Ṣūr, known to the Héllēnes as Týros, as a means of appeasing the local population, whose city had been raised by Aléxandros ho Mégas. The reasons for this are not entirely understood by modern scholars, as it would seem that in Anatolḗ that the king had sought to mimic Aléxandros to some degree, but some believe that it was a gesture to his allies in Qart-Ḥadašt, whose people considered Ṣūr to be their mētrópolis, or mother city. At Ṣīdūn, which the Héllēnes knew as Sidṓn, a gymnásion was built, and Kleopátra II, was deified again, this time as a representation of Astártē. However, continuing into Ioudaía, there was no deification of anyone, and the king is recorded as having sacrificed at the temple of Zéus Morías at Dēmētriás in the Yǝhudic fashion.


The deification of Kleopátra did not stop at Ṣīdūn, and continued on through the tour of her native Aígyptos, where the royal entourage sailed down the Neîlos on pilgrimage to visit the various sites that the goddess had visited to collect the body parts of her dead husband and brother, Ósiris. At Alexándreia however, Kleopátra’s then teenage son, Ptolemaîos IX Eupátōr is recorded as having been elevated to the position of high-priest of the cult of Aléxandros ho Mégas, which had been instituted by Ptolemaîos II Philádelphos more than a century earlier. A change in this cult however, was that Dēmḗtrios equated Aléxandros ho Mégas with Hḗraklēs, as the son of Zéus-Hámmōn, which implied that Aléxandros had been a living manifestation of one of the most ancient and perhaps most significant cultural heroes of Hellā́s. This would have important socio-political consequences in the future. Likewise, in the south, Kleopátra was again venerated at Swenet[34] as the protectress of Aígyptos and a patroness of the armed forces there. However, yet another significant aspect of the king’s visit to Aígyptos was the court that he held at Ptolemaḯs Hermaíou, where he received the homage of native notable families, and also the friendship of the Queen of Medewi[35], who was in attendance, and said to be so beautiful that she was named a Nērēḯs by the king. Modern writers speculate as to the nature of their relationship, but no contemporary source implies that it went beyond the ritualized guest-friendship that was the norm of a Seleukidian court.


Following the court at Ptolemaḯs Hermaíou and his pilgrimage down the Neîlos with his second wife, Kleopátra II, the Lord of Asíā is again recorded at Hierópolos Bámbykē[36], where he and his wives sacrificed at the local temples, and he and Kleopátra were deified as Ba’al and Atar’atheh. However, it was at Dáphnē, where the royal entourage was in rest before setting out for the East that the assassination of Kleopátra and her sons took place, and it was through the confession of his third wife, Dēmoníkē, whose brother had been part of the conspiracy, that Queen Nýssa was implicated in the year 164 (150). Contemporary writers record that the king was at first reluctant to believe the evidence implicating his wife, as initial rumors had suggested that Timarkhos and his brother, Herakleídēs had been involved. The queen and her very young son, Séleukos, were poisoned, while her older son, Ptolemaîos IX Eupátōr, was stabbed to death in Aígyptos, where he had taken on the high-priesthood of Aléxandros-Hḗraklēs. The younger Ptolemaîos and Neoptólemos seem to have been meant to be poisoned as well, although history does not record why or how they were not. What is recorded, is that Séleukos, who was naught more than a toddler at the time of his murder, was a favorite son of the Lord of Asíā, who fell into a deep depression after his death, which was furthered by the execution of his wife and the purging of her affiliates at court, some of whom had been close friends of his.


It was at this time that the king started to become increasingly paranoid, and also when the exodus of the Molossian slaves and the indigenous peoples of Sikelía was negotiated, and Newoptólemos and his army were received at Dáphnē with a luxurious military parade that was replicated and expanded at the capital of Babylṓn. The tour of the East was put off at this time for a later date, as relations with the King of Póntos, who had been a brother-in-law to the Lord of Asíā, had begun to deteriorate following his sister’s execution. War did not break out until the following year, when Mithridátēs V allied with the stratēgós of Armenía Megálē, Artavazd, and incited a rebellion in Sōphēnḗ, Kommagēnḗ, Adiabēnḗ, and Kordyēnḗ. The war would mark a bloody 3 years in which the most royal houses of all four regions were purged, either being murdered to the man or sent into exile in the new Kingdom of Armenía. The war might have been a victory for the Seleukídai as well, had it not been for the invitation of the Koússanoi by King Artavazd, who devastated the Lord of Asíā’s new Sikelian troops who had up until then proved extremely useful against the Armenoi and the Pontoi. Still, though these forces suffered enormously against the Koússanoi, at the Battle of Oxidástēs[37], some 15,000 Sikelian and Molossian troops under the command of Alkaîos of Sikelía not only held their own against them, but routed them. This elite army, which was later simply dubbed hoi Síkeloi, or “the Sikelians”, were made the personal security detail of the Lord of Asíā thereafter.


Notes
1. It is not known which king reigned between Bagas and Bocchus II in Mauretania, so I have assumed a second Bagas reigned. The name ‘Bagas’ also seems to be a Romanization of Berber abbegi/abbegei, which is still a common personal name in Tuareg dialects, meaning “jackal”.
2. Contemporary native pronunciation of modern Tangiers, in Tanger-Tetouan-Al Hoceima Province, Morocco.
3. Contemporary native pronunciation of Lixus, which was an ancient town located north of the modern port of Larache, in Tanger-Tetouan-Al Hoceima Province, Morocco.
4. Contemporary native pronunciation of Gulussa, who was the second eldest son of King Masinissa of Numidia.
5. Appius Claudius Pulcher and Scipio Aemilianus were staunch political rivals IOTL.
6. Modern Kairouan, in Kairouan Governorate, Tunisia. Apparently this place was heavily wooded at the time of its settlement in 670 AD IOTL, and so it is named for a woodland goddess, whose name is from PIE *ghwḗr “wild, wild animal”.
7. The name ‘Mauretania’ seems to be a loan into Latin from Greek, itself from the word maurós, meaning “dark, black”. Therefore, we will just be referring to the kingdom by its capital city of Tingi ITTL, as funny as the name might sound…
8. The 5th of November, which is at the start of the Seleucid year, remember, as the new year is in autumn.
9. Modern Mersin, in Mersin Province, Turkey.
10. North of modern Silifke, in Mersin Province, Turkey.
11. Modern Silifke, in Mersin Province, Turkey.
12. Just as a reminder, I am positing that the scantily recorded Homonadesians of the Taurus Mountains are descendants of the Paeonians who were deported under Darius I by his general Megabazus during the former’s European campaign in the late 6th century BCE. As another reminder, I am positing that Paeonian is a close relative to Greek and Ancient Macedonian whose dialects went through their own processes of palatalization that were similar to those in Proto-Greek. So, the name of the king here, is derived from PIE from PIE *yeh2g- “to sacrifice”, with a meaning of “pious”. The name of the city however, is actually from a hypothetical Isaurian Wnwinaha – from Old Luwian Wanawinassa, a place name meaning “place of the lady of wine”, a local epithet of a goddess. Hellenized as Honoína, and therefore colloquially referred to by Cilician Greeks as Honáina “she-ass”, or Honainapólis “city of she-asses”. I am also positing that the /m/ alteration, known from Roman records in the name Homona, is from the Old Persian form of the name, Umbīnā, although why Persian /i/ became Greek /o/ is probably due to linguistic bastardization.
13. Modern Beyşehir, in Konya Province, Turkey.
14. Modern Ladik, in Konya Province, Turkey.
15. Alexander, his brother, and his father were taken as hostages after the Third Macedonian War where his father eventually died in the late 160s, before Antiochus IV ITTL was able to secure their return to Macedon.
16. Modern Akşehir, Konya Province, Turkey.
17. Modern Şuhut, in Afyonkarahisar Province, Turkey.
18. A particularly ancient city that had been Phrygian at least since the onsent of the first millennium BCE. Modern Çavdarhisar, in Kütahya Province, Turkey.
19. Modern Kütahya, in Kütahya Province, Turkey.
20. Modern Çeşme, in Izmir Province, Turkey.
21. The Suratlu Taş carving at modern Manisa, in Manisa Province, Turkey. This carving today has been horrendously damaged, perhaps by deliberate vandalism, and so its affinities cannot be certain. It is however, speculated to be a representation of Cybele, or Kubaba, as the carving has been dated back to the Bronze Age and is believed to be of Hittite origin.
22. The Lydian language, which IOTL is not known in inscriptions dating later than 200 BCE. However, just because the language stopped being recorded in inscriptions, doesn’t mean that it was extinct or even endangered – it may simply have been replaced as the official language of Lydia by this time. Therefore, Demetrius addressing the population in their native language as opposed to Greek, which he likely would have needed some tutoring to have done, would have been an enormous gesture.
23. Modern Fethiye, in Muğla Province, Turkey.
24. Near the small modern town of Gelemiş, Antalya Province, Turkey.
25. Modern Aksu, Antalya Province, Turkey.
26. Modern Anamur, in Mersin Province, Turkey.
27. Contemporary Greek pronunciation of Phoenicia.
28. Modern Homs, Homs Governorate, Syria.
29. Modern Byblos, Mount Lebanon Governorate, Lebanon.
30. Beginning between the 10th and the 8th centuries BCE.
31. See the essay ‘The Development and Diffusion of the Cult of Isis in the Hellenistic Period’, by Kelly A. Moss.
32. The city of Memphis was founded in the early 31st century BCE.
33. Contemporary pronunciation of modern pharaoh, in IPA [parəˈʕoʔ].
34. Modern Aswan, in Aswan Governorate, Egypt.
35. The queen in question is Queen Shanakhdakhete of Meroe.
36. Modern Manbij, in Aleppo Governorate, Syria.
37. A Hellenization of contemporary Armenian Voskidašt, meaning “golden valley”. The modern Uluova Valley, which encompasses part of Elaziğ Province, Turkey.
 
Hellā́s, Anatolḗ, and Kwïpălăk


The Great Hellenic War has been noted by many historians as having created more problems than it solved. It is indeed tempting to think of the nearly two decades of hegemony of the Rēs Pūblica Rōmāna as a time of oppression, although one cannot ignore the peace and prosperity that the peoples of Hellā́s enjoyed during this period when contrasted to the one that came after it. The Rēs Pūblica Rōmāna had of course weakened its forces in Hellā́s during the Reduellātiō Magnus Servōrum, which had presented the perfect opportunity for the various city-states and leagues to rise in rebellion against it and expel the Rōmānī from the country altogether, and the Rōmānī cannot be said to have put up much of a fight. Certainly, the war is principally characterized by the Battle of Pýthion, where a combined army of Akhaioí, Petthaloí, Akarnânes, and Āpeirôtai fought a battle that was considered on either side to have been a victory, which continues to be debated among scholars as to who was the actual victor. Certainly, the Héllēnes got exactly what they wanted – a Roman withdrawal. But, at what cost? The Akhaioí, Akarnânes, and Āpeirôtai had freed their slaves and promised land grants to the lower classes in order to bring them to the battlefield. Some of the landless poor did indeed receive land grants for their service, but the freed slaves for the most part did not, which expanded the landless masses considerably and required the creation of standing professional armies that received their salaries from the state, which was quite a novelty given the military history of the country. With their new and properly blooded armed forces, the states of Hellā́s would spend the next decade at least at war with one another, until they found themselves, by and large, under the hegemony of despotic foreign powers once again.


The rush to internal conflict was in fact rather immediate, beginning the year after the Roman withdrawal in 168 (146) with what has been characterized by many, particularly the contemporary historian and politician Polýbios, as a war of vengeance between the Akarnânes and the Aitōloí, the latter of whom were widely perceived among the Héllēnes as partially responsible for the subjugation of the country by the Rēs Pūblica Rōmāna. This war was particularly bloody, and would be drawn out for the next 6 years until 161 (139), when the capital city of Thérmon was finally forced to surrender and the treasures of its temples, particularly the Temple of Apóllōn, were plundered. With the fall of Aitōlía also came the fall of Phōkís, and also the sacred city of Delphoí, which triggered an invasion by an alliance of the Akhaioí and the Āpeirôtai, the two principle theatres of which were in Ambrakía and Boiōtía, the so-called “dancing-ground of Árēs”, where the Héllēnes had now been doing much of their internal bickering for some centuries. To avoid fighting a war on two fronts, the Akarnanian stratāgoí forged an alliance with the Dardanian king, Kláitas[1] II, whose people were disgruntled former allies of the Rēs Pūblica Rōmāna, who invaded Ápeiros in full force, bringing the two “kinslaver” tribes of the Thesprōtoí and the Kháones to heel after yet another drawn out conflict that saw non-Héllēnes yet again ruling over Héllēnes. This theatre of the war was not completed until the year 178 (136), while the conflict between the Akhaioí and the Akarnânes would continue until 184 (130), both powers having fought themselves to a draw, with Boiōtía finally being ceded to the Koinòn tōn Akarnā́nōn as per the wishes of the Boiōtoí themselves after the cities of the region were allowed to vote as per what came to be known as the Compromise of 184. However, when the Dárdanai failed to withdraw from Ápeiros despite having been commanded to do so three times over the following two years, the Akarnânes and the Akhaioí formed an alliance to drive them out in the year 186 (128), which they were successful in doing, but it would not be the last that the Héllēnes would be hearing of the Dárdanai.


***************


Following the defeat of the Rōmānī at Mount Bēlos, the borders of Anatolḗ were redrawn to the satisfaction of at least some of the monarchs in the region. Certainly, the Attalídai of Pérgamon had received the shorter end of the stick, having had to cede the bulk of their lands to the Seleukídai, and the Gálatai had had their lands divied up between the Kingdom of Kappadokía and the Kingdom of Póntos. The Gálatai however, would go on to serve as valuable mercenary forces for the Kingdom of Póntos in the Armenian War against the Seleukídai, where a certain Vellaunos was rewarded with the title of King of the Gálatai under Mithridátes V. Other contingents on Galatian mercenaries were hired by the newly founded Kingdom of Haykh[2], where they formed the personal security detail of King Artavazd, and also in the Kingdom of Kwïpălăk, where they were one of the first infantry units that would inspire the armor and tactics of later armies there.


Indeed, the independence of the Kingdom of Haykh was an important moment in the political, but also cultural development of the area. It was the first time that the Haykh[3] would not be vassals or otherwise paying tribute to a larger imperial state since Uvaxštra of Māda had ridden into the ancient city of Tušpa and forced the submission of Rusa IV. Now, not only was the kingdom fully independent, but a member of a political block in the region that included the Kingdom of Póntos, the Kingdom of Kartli, and the Kingdom of Kwïpălăk. To make matters that much more optimistic, the Kingdom of Haykh had strengthened its alliances with dynastic marriages, starting with King Artavazd’s eldest daughter, Satenik, who married Mithridátēs V of Póntos, but continuing with hs younger daughter, Naninĵahi[4], who was married to the King of Kwïpălăk, Ṣwïletïla Cola[5]. These alliances were fruitful not only politically, but economically, putting the road from the East through the Kaúkasos Mountains to the Áxeinos Sea into the hands of four allied monarchs, that from there traded with the Kingdom of Bospóros and the Hellenic cities of Mikrá Skythía, which were under the protection of the Odrysai.


Mithridátēs V’s marriage to the Armenian princess, Satenik, would prove to be fruitful not only in terms of the mutual reciprocity between Haykh and Póntos, but also in terms of reproductive output. His wife bore him five children – Mithridátēs, Sateníkē, Pharnákēs, Roxánē, and Stateira[5]. Furthermore, with Armenía Megálē having broken away from Seleukidian rule to form the Kingdom of Haykh, the Kingdom of Kartli[6] now found itself politically isolated from the regional hegemons that had in the past, recognized their kingship. This was convenient of course for Mithridátēs, who had designs on the region of Kolkheti[7], which he decided to divide with the King of Kartli, Mirvan I, in the interests of not overextending the resources and manpower available to him after his costly war with the Seleukídai. This was of mutual benefit to Mirvan and the continuity of his kingdom, as the Kings of Kartli had been recognized by and allied loosely to the Seleukídai in the past, and continuing this relationship would mean being politically isolated from his immediate neighbors. Therefore, the two monarchs spent the years of 173-176 (141-138) conquering and consolidating the tribes of Kolkheti, although Mithridátēs would find that the Tzani were not as easily subdued as he thought they would have been. His military expenditures in the region might have cost him his ambition of one day ruling Kappadokía, although the price in his mind was worth it, as he was now effectively in control of trade on the Áxeinos Sea.


However, breaking the friendship of his uncle with the Seleukídai would not come without consequences. The union of Nikomḗdēs II of Bithynía and Laodíke VI, the daughter of the so-called Theós Epiphanḗs, or “god manifest”, Antíokhos IV, had produced an especially ambitious heir to the Bithynian throne by the name of Prousías III[8], who would not wear the diadem until after his father’s death in 187 (127), but nonetheless was able to convince his father as a sharp-witted and able-bodied youth, to move against the Kingdom of Póntos and seize its Galatian territories in the year 175 (139) while Mithridátēs was embroiled in his campaigns against the Tzani of Kolkheti. As a cousin-in-law of the Lord of Asíā, Nikomḗdēs would enjoy his support, which was enough to convince the Galatian puppet-king, Vellaunos, to default to the Bithynian side in the conflict. The loss of Galatía would be referred to by the next King of Póntos, Mithridátes VI, as his father’s “shame”, and the region would become the battleground on which he and the later king Prousías III would decide where the future of Anatolḗ would stand in the closing decades of the century.


On the other hand, with the reduction of the Kingdom of Pérgamon to nothing more than a rump-state under the effective control of the Lord of Asíā, dynastic marriages between them and foreign dynasties such as the Odrysai were no longer very appealing… except to the Seleukídai. It would become a matter of policy for Dēmḗtrios I and his successors to breed out the Attalídai dynasty, starting with Áttalos III, who was held hostage at the capital of Babylṓn until his uncle’s death in 176 (138). Áttalos III was forced to marry Bereníkē, the daughter of Antíokhos IV by the late queen, Nýssa of Babylṓn. By her, he would have four children – Philétairos, Strátōn, and Athēnaḯs. Both Philétairos and Strátrōn would marry granddaughters of Eukratídēs the Elder, Eurydíkē (daughter of Hḗlioklēs I) and Helénē (daughter of Eukratídēs the Younger), while Athēnaḯs was married to Neoptólemos I of Aígyptos, which made Áttalos III’s successors, while members of the Attalídai in name, effectively a cadet branch of the Seleukídai with in two generations. Sṓthimas[9], the son of King Diégulas of the Odrysai, would therefore not be marrying into the Attalídai family, but instead he would marry one of the daughters of Nikomḗdēs II, one Apámē V, helping to bind the two neighboring kingdoms – who shared a common language and culture – closer together.


For the Kingdom of Kwïpălăk, matters were not as cut and dry. The reigning dynasty came from a people who collectively called themselves the Pïllentaṣṣi[10], whom the Héllēnes called the ‘Koússanoi’, for their claims of descent from the royal family of the ancient city of Kuca. The Pïllentaṣṣi had been a numerous and war-like people, but a civil war had split the various clans following a series of disastrous defeats over the past few decades. First, it had been the Hyōna, whose tarxan had taken their king’s head and used his skull as a drinking cup[11]. Then, it had been the Wïrnaśśi, a portion of whose grazing grounds they had attempted to take for themselves, only to be driven out at great cost to both sides. From there, they had sided with the Saka and attempted to invade the valley of the Iaxártēs, and then the rich country of Baktrianḗ, from whence both groups had been repelled and forced north of the Sea of Khwārazm[12], where they plundered the people the Saka called the Tulweraka [13]. Finally, after plundering the Tulweraka, they moved against the Worsa[14], who put up little resistance relative to the campaigns ahead, and were brought on the campaign into their present locale… which was by no means uninhabited. No, the country had been home to a myriad of different tribes who used the language of the city of Kwïpălăk as their common language, though the languages they spoke amongst themselves were many and diverse. To cement the legitimacy of his rule, Ṣwïletïla Cola had taken the now widowed queen of the city, Balanɋo[15], and officially (although not in his private circles) elevated her above his own wife, Tāpāki[16]. Furthermore, this queen was allowed to retain her dominion over the city and the lands that had previously belonged to it, as the Pïllentaṣṣi, or at least those clans that had made the journey south and across the mountains, simply wished to receive the tribute of the surrounding tribes and maintain their traditional way of life.


However, Queen Balanɋo, went on to stage a guerilla war behind her new husband’s back for the better part of of a decade, managing to slip her orders out to her generals in the countryside even after she had been put under arrest in her palace, which Ṣwïletïla and his other two wives consequently moved into. Her covert rebellion against her husband won her a great amount of popularity in Hellenistic and Aramaean circles, particularly in Mesopotamía and Syría, where there had been a great deal of panic over the possibility of an invasion of the Pïllentaṣṣi, the so-called “pot-headed barbarians of the East”[17] during the Armenian War. She was indeed so popular that her name, or a Hellenized version of it, together with the name of the general that Hellenic historians and playwrights would call her lover and the brother of her dead husband - Ķoȷkala[18] - became popular personal names in later decades. Contemporary sources vary as to the manner of her execution, with Polýbios writing that Ṣwïletïla personally dragged her behind his horse through the streets of Kwïpălăk to make clear the subjugation of the people. Others still suggest that he forced her to commit suicide, while one historian would write that he told her nothing of his knowledge of her continued subversion of his rule before having her poisoned at dinner, standing over her while she choked and saying, “The deer might escape to live another day, but the tiger will always catch him.”


Whatever the circumstances of the queen’s death, it is recorded that the king deified one of his wives as the local moon goddess, who was syncretized with that of his own people, who just so happened to be the most important deity to the Pïllentaṣṣi as well as the people of Kwïpălăk. This goddess would be known locally as Lalaukar-Šipak[19] for a time, albeit she would eventually be syncretized with the Haykh goddess Nane in the decades to come. The recognition of the local deities and their incorporation into state cults did not however soothe the tensions of the tribes of the country, and the reign of Ṣwïletïla Cola would be characterized by continuous campaigns of consolidation in the country.


Notes


1. While it might be tempting to compare this personal name to Greek Kléitos, meaning “famous”, it is actually a cognate to modern Albanian qetë, meaning “jagged rock”, however in the sense of a mountain peak, or something similar.
2. I did fuss a little bit over what endonym to use for the country and the people of Armenia, but it seems to me as though this is the best option.
3. It is also worth noting that the word Haykh means “Armenians” in the plural. I would attach an English suffix -ian for its adjectival use here, but I think Haykhian sounds a little clunky.
4. This is a hypothetical personal name in the contemporary stage of the Armenian, which likely was at least slightly different from Classical Armenian, which is not recorded IOTL until the 5th century. The name includes the theonym of the syncretic Armenian goddess Nane, and also the word inĵahi [indzahi] “gift”, which was represented in Classical Armenian as ǝnjay and Modern Armenian as ǝncay. Both of these words are from PIE *enghǝti, with cognates in Sanskrit aṃhati/aṃhiti “gift”. Thus, I am postulating that at the time in question, the original /t/ might still have been represented by /h/.
5. IOTL, Mithridates V was married to Laodice VI, who ITTL is married to Nicomedes II of Bithynia. I know that the gender of children is determined by the male’s sperm, but how many children and when they are conceived/delivered is determined by the female. So, here we have a different set of children by him, with a similar set of names as IOTL. Thus, ITTL, Mithridates VI is somewhat of a different character – he will still be ambitious, but not as ambitious and scheming as the one we know, having inherited a different set of genes and being the son of a very different mother.
6. Contemporary native name of the Kingdom of Iberia.
7. Contemporary native name of Colchis.
8. IOTL, Nicomedes II’s son was Nicomedes III, but the circumstances of his rise to the throne are different ITTL, and so the son is named for his father, Prusias. That said, it is this Prusias who is the son of Laodice VI, and is somewhat analogous to the OTL Mithridates VI in terms of his ambition and overall character. There will be more on the conflict between him and TTL’s Mithridates VI later.
9. This personal name is recorded in ancient sources as Sothimus, which is almost certainly a Latinization of a native Thracian name. That said, applying the known sound changes from PIE to Thracian, I have constructed the name as being derived from an o-grade of PIE *sētis “seed”, with an extras suffix *-mos, meaning “seeded, sewn”.
10. This is a hypothetical endonym for the Yuezhi based on translation of the Chinese characters, which means “moon people”. Therefore, here we have a name derived from the known Tocharian B word pälle, meaning “full-moon”, and thus “[people] of the full-moon”, for a moon goddess, who may have been especially important to them (we really know nothing at all about pre-Buddhist Tocharian religion).
11. This is in reference to the incident following the defeat of the Yuezhi at the hands of the Xiongnu in which the chanyu, Liaoshang, did exactly this.
12. A name of the Aral Sea.
13. An Iranian pronunciation of Tulwerak, a hypothetical Uralic tribe situated to the north of Caspian Sea whose name literally means “fire blood”. From Proto-Uralic tule “fire” and were “blood”. The latter element is attested in Hungarian as vér, but the former is not attested in Ugric in general.
14. Probable contemporary pronunciation of Aorsi. Meaning “white, shining” in Scytho-Sarmatian, and attested in modern Ossetian as wurs.
15. Meaning “blackberry” in Udi, a word which is etymologically unclear in its modern form, and therefore may or may not have been in use at the time period. The /ɋ/ here stands for an ejective uvular stop [q’].
16. Probable Common Tocharian pronunciation of a word meaning “mirror” in Tocharian A and B.
17. A reference to the head-binding practices of the Yuezhi.
18. I was quite fortunate to find that word-formation in Udi is pretty simple and actually similar to Indo-European. The phonology not so much, but it’s actually not a huge learning curve to wrap your head around how to construct new words in Udi. So, here we have a personal name meaning “having a great house”, or more simply “great/big house”. From Old Udi kala “great” and k’odʑ “house”. As you can see, the /ķ/ represents an ejective velar stop [k’], and the /ȷ/ represents a voiced alveolo-palatal affricate [dʑ].
The first part of this theonym is Tocharian, and means “light, illumination”, although the second part is more ancient, and actually refers to a Kassite lunar goddess, the etymology of whose name remains a mystery. It has been hypothesized by some scholars that the ancient Caspians were in fact related to the Kassites, and as we know that in the Bronze Age these people were powerful enough to conquer Mesopotamia, it seems plausible to me that, if the Caspians were in fact relatives of the Kassites that there might have been some level of syncretism of their religion and culture with that of the Caucasian Albanians, given their proximity to each other.
 
Heroes Or Demagogues? On Escalating Political Rivalries


The years 165-181 (149-133) in the Rēs Pūblica Rōmāna are too often ignored by modern historians. It is indeed very common in history classes for it merely to be glazed over for the scandal that would characterize the years 201-206 (113-108), but it nonetheless bears mentioning as a time that laid important foundations that came later.


After the conclusion of the Reduellātiō Magnus Servōrum and the divying of lands in Sicilia, there was a great deal of unrest among the citizens and subjects of the Republic. As previously mentioned, a good deal of the land in question ended up in the hands of the wealthy senatorial elite, while retiring veterans, now landless and in search of wage labor, were imported to work as field hands, though they were paid pittances for their efforts. Sicilia indeed saw a massive influx of this kind of labor in the ten years between 165-175 (149-139), as the slave population had been utterly depleted with the deportation of the slaves that had revolted and their Sicilian allies, and the plēbēiī urbāna were in need of a regular supply of grain. Nonetheless, the price of grain had risen sharply from the outbreak of the Reduellātiō Magnus Servōrum in 160 (154), which had resulted in a temporary freeze on the price of grain being passed in 162 (152). A lift of this price freeze and a return to regular market economics was in fact one of the proposed measures of the failed Lex Caecilia Aemiliāna in 169 (145), which had caused Appius Claudius Pulcher to abandon the bill upon its inclusion. Also in this bill, whose final form had been floated before the Senātus by Pūblius Cornelius Scīpiō Āfricānus Aemiliānus and Lūcius Caecilius Metellus Calvus, was the so-called iūs ēmeritōrum, or “veterans’ right”, a measure granting lands from properties of land speculators who had leased plots of the ager pūblicus in excess of 500 iūgera, a bipartisan measure on the part of Pulcher and the Aemiliī-Metellī faction, itself having been perhaps the most important reason for the bill’s failiure.


This measure of course, was not actually the idea of either Metellus Calvus or Scīpiō Aemiliānus, but Appius Claudius Pulcher, a high-ranking rival of Aemiliānus who had seen the opportunity to swindle Rōma’s latest rising star into passing measures of his own legislative agenda that could be seen as improving the lot of the men of the army. This of course was problematic not only because it required a good many senātōrēs to give up lands that they had invested in, transferred the leases to, and even bequeathed in dowries, but also because it was seen as a populist measure on the part of Scīpiō Aemiliānus, a man whose popularity not only with the Concilium Plēbīs, but with the military was becoming worrysome to the landed and established nobility of the Rēs Pūblica.


Indeed, competition over the affection of the army and her officers would become a key point of escalating political rivalries over the next decade. Pulcher had alienated Scīpiō Aemiliānus when he had abandoned the Lex Caecilia Aemiliāna, originally called the Lex Caecilia Claudia, as Aemiliānus, though a competant and connected member of the Senātus, was seen by Pulcher as too junior in rank and prestige to have his name on the bill. Although it was not Pulcher’s sense of seniority that had alienated him from Aemiliānus, but rather the latter’s conservatism, as it was Aemiliānus who insisted on lifting the price freeze on grain, which Pulcher had been instrumental in passing in 162 (152). To combat his new rival, who seemed wedded to the notion of some kind of iūs ēmeritōrum, Pulcher and his associates decided to one-up the Aemiliī-Metellī with a new bill that proposed the iūs Latiī, or the “Latin Right”, together with land grants in Sicilia for retiring veterans in the year 171 (143), in the so-called Lex Claudia Octāvia, so named for his new protégé, Gnaeus Octāvius Minor. This piece of legislation was specifically designed to draw military-minded clientelle away from Aemiliānus’ faction, as it was in the year 168 (146) that he was elected cōnsul, raising a private army for the second time in his political career to answer the call to war in Hispānia. The bill might not have passed, though it was never meant to, and it was effective in its original purpose.


Surely, a great many in the Senātus were swayed by Pulcher’s comparison of Aemiliānus to the populist stratāgos of Akarnānía, Elaphídas of Thýrreion, who had risen personal armies that he had later institutionalized and used to strong-arm his way into continued terms of office. Aemiliānus had also violated mōs māiōrum, the unwritten expectations of Roman politics, by skipping levels of the cursus honōrum to be elected praetor in 161 (153) at the age of 32, a 7 years before the regular age of 39. Though the war had been lost in the court of public opinion, the blame for this was not leveled on Aemiliānus, but rather Sextus Jūlius Caesar and Lūcius Calpurnius Pīsō Caesonīnus, the cōnsulēs of the year 164 (150), who had decided that it would be more prudent to cede the demands of the Lord of Asíā than to risk an invasion of Sicilia. Though they were not stripped of their citizenship and presented to the Lord of Asíā naked as Pūblius Mūcius Scaevola Maior had been, they were nonetheless unpopular, and would not be running for future public office. Of course, everyone in the Senātus had known that this was the best option, but the people were appalled and abhored at the affront that this represented to the dignity of the Rēs Pūblica, as many of the Molossian/Makedonian slaves were the rightfully won property of the soldiers who had fought in the Tertium Duellum Mācedonicum[1].


Now, had it only been the one time, the Senātus might not have worried so much, but Aemiliānus had risen a private army a second time seven years later in 168 (146). This was in response to appeals from King Abeggei of Tingi, which the Romans had entertained because of the severence of relations with the Inumiden, and it was the position of Aemiliānus and his affiliates that the Senātus needed a vir Āfricae, or a “man in Āfrica”. Though, despite the compelling speeches on the floor by Pulcher, the Metellī brothers - Quīntus Caecilius Metellus and Lūcius Caecilius Metellus Calvus - were elected to a dual consulātus two years later in 173 (141), when the situation in Hispānia had again grown dire; and just like Aemiliānus before them, they raised their own private army. This had been in response to the death of an incumbent cōnsul - Lūcius Licinius Lucullus - in 169 (145) in a massive ambush on the Sarama River[2]. It was a worrying trend, and one that was continued by the promise of the Aemiliī-Metellī of land grants from the new ager pūblicus to be had in the conquered territories of Hispānia.


Comparatively however, the death of Lucullus was a minor setback, and the campaigns in Hispānia led in the four years that followed Aemiliānus consulātus were principally successful, penetrating as deep as the lands of the Vakkaiī through the country of the Karpetānī, though these successes were indeed hard-won in many cases. The Lūsītānī and the Vettōnēs had gathered under two kings, Taurokos and Saxansus[3], though Taurokos was soon replaced by a certain Viriāthos after the Battle of Dovillicun[4] in 170 (144), which the Lūsītānī had timed deliberately around the seasonal floods of the Tagus, attempting to force the Romans into the river. This battle perhaps represented the highlight of Aemiliānus’ military ventures, as he was able to hold his position against the Lūsītānī for two days before the king challenged him to single combat to decide the outcome. It was also a display of his tactical acumen however, as the Lūsītānī had sought to annihilate the Romans in a pincer move while Mānius Mānīlius crossed the Flūmen Anas in the southwest. However, as the war seemed to drag on without a conclusive end, the promises of the Aemiliī-Metellī began to fall on deaf ears, and the faction began to lose political clients between the years 171 (143) and 174 (140). Unlike previous wars, still within the living memory of a good many of Ītalia’s peoples, the war in Hispānia brought back relatively little in terms of exotic riches, though it was a fairly constant source of slaves, who bit by bit were replacing the free, wage-laboring farmhands in Sicilia. It might have benefitted the wealthier classes to have access to the country’s minerals - especially the senatorial elite, who used their freemen as legal fronts to engage in such private enterprises[5] - but for all the promises of the Aemiliī-Metellī, in the minds of the common people, it represented little more than a scant opportunity to make money in the slave market… if the generals were honorable with their men in doling out the spoils of war. Furthermore, after Aemiliānus and his co-cōnsul Mānīlius, it seemed as though a number of the cōnsulēs and the praetōrēs were more interested in provoking conflict with the Hispanic tribes for the deliberate purpose of furthering their own political careers than they were in the preservation of the lives of their men. Servius Sulpicius Galba was one such a case, as he had deliberately violated previous agreements with the local tribes in the interest of sacking cities and gaining a triumph. Another one was the novus homō, Lūcius Mummius Vaccaicus, who had received his cognōmen for his epic defeat of the Vakkaiī. Matters would come to a head with the disastrous defeat of Aemiliānus’ nephew, Quīntus Fabius Maximus Servīliānus, in 174 (140).


Maximus Servīlianus had been called to Hispānia following reports that the Vakkaiī - who had been made allies of the Rēs Pūblica after their defeat at the hands of Lūcius Mummius during the term of the Metellī brothers - had been suffering repeated raids from the Astūrēs and the Turmakōnēs[6], but also to settle the issue of a border dispute with the Vettōnēs. The previous year, the Metellī brothers had conducted themselves with honor and integrity in the region, which had strengthened the Roman relationship with local tribes. Servīliānus however, had conducted himself with brutality and hubris, in one instance beheading 1,000 able-bodied Astūrēs that had fought against him, and in another cutting off the hands of 5,000 Vettōnēs for rustling the cattle of a sept of the Vakkaiī, and also their tongues, so that they might not misrepresent the circumstances under which they had lost their hands. He thought these measures would both impress and frighten the allied tribes, but, when some of the Vakkaian chiefs had told him he was merely making matters worse, they had been chastised and dismissed. Furthermore, he raised the grain tithe on the Karpetānī and Vakkaiī for the impudence of the latter, and installed harsh penalties for farmers who could not meet the new requirements. This ultimately resulted in a coordinated massacre of Roman troops across Hispānia that retracted the border behind the Baetis[7] and Salō[8] rivers. The massacre had occurred at the very end of Servīliānus’ consulship, when, upon finishing his affairs in the country of the Vakkaiī had turned back toward the Roman province of Hispānia Citerior, from whence he planned to make for Rōma the following year. The methodology of the massacre was simple, involving a series of lies, betrayals, and the use of brushfires that the tribes had coordinated among each other to control. The Romans had not been able to make any ground against the Vettōnēs and the Lūsītānī in their own territories, but they had been able to break relations between them and their Celtiberian allies to the east by subjugating the Vakaiī. While Lūcius Mummius had been cōnsul at the time, and therefore had received the majority of the credit upon his return back to Rōma, two young tribūnī mīlitum had distinguished themselves early on under his command - Tiberius Semprōnius Gracchus Minor, and Pūblius Mūcius Scaevola Minor - the sons of two former cōnsulēs whose terms of office enjoyed mixed remembrance.


In fact, the younger Gracchus was an important officer in the campaign not only for his bravery and his political acumen, but because of the rapport that his name established with the natives, his father having campaigned successfully in the country decades before and established alliances with the Celtiberian tribes. These two tribūnī had been stationed inside Vakkaian territory on the north side of the Kolnīs Snāgī[9] to maintain the peace, while a second legion was stationed in Baetūria Celticōrum[10] to check the Lūsītānī, who had agreed not to cross the Tagus to the south, or the Waitos Snākī[11] to the east. Here, the Romans were betrayed, and the fort set on fire during the night and the soldiers slaughtered by a large army of Lūsītānī under Viriāthos, while the other two Roman armies - one headed back into the province of Hispānia Citerior through Karpetānia and the other stationed in Vakkaian country, were swallowed by the controlled brushfires that the locals set. The incumbent cōnsul and his men either died from smoke inhalation before or burned to death - a grim fate indeed for a grim man and his colleagues. Gracchus and Scaevola however, were not so unfortunate. Their forts had indeed been set ablaze in the dead of the night, but the men had managed to rally and fight off the Vakkaiī and Vettōnēs, who took to setting further fires as they retreated in the hopes that they might die as their cōnsul had done on the other side of the mountains. They were able to avoid this fate by gathering in the Tsǝpardǝ’al River[12], where they waited out the fires until they had burned around them, afterward retreating into the mountains, where they defeated an army of Arevakkaiī[13], and blocked the mountain pass between Segobrīga and Aelarikun[14]. The chief at Aelarikun, a certain Ekuālios, is said to have remembered Gracchus’ father, and defended the Roman troops against the Arevakkaiī, who tried to cross the mountain passes numerous times before the onset of winter in pursuit of them. Though the Karpetānī had betrayed Quīntus Fabius Maximus Serviliānus, aiding the Bellī in the setting of backburner fires that would contain the brushfires that were used to kill him and his troops, the contemporary accounts record that they let Gracchus and Scaevola pass through their country to the province of Hispānia Citerior. As soon as the harvest had finished in the fall, the Lūsītānī went on to cross not only the Tagus into Baetūria Celticōrum, but the Flūmen Anas into Hispānia Ulterior, where they overran the province. Indeed, they would force a near complete withdrawal of Roman troops, though they are recorded as having held the settlers hostage.


Such a disaster was indeed just what was needed to return the Aemiliī-Metellī to their former position of principle prominence, as it was only they who had the networks and the know-how to properly sort out the mess. Not only were they well-connected and well-established in Ītalia, but also in Hispānia, where they had campaigned successfully and honorably in the past. Thus, after Aemiliānus delivered perhaps his most famous speech to the people of Rōma, imploring them to trust in him one last time, he was granted an exemption by the Concilium Plēbīs on a second term of office, and was again elected cōnsul, to properly end the war in Hispānia once and for all. This was of course not his only campaign promise, but also the iūs ēmeritōrum he had promised before, which included the iūs Latiī for retiring Italian veterans, and a measure that would abolish the exclusive right of the senātōrēs to act as jurors in the interest of combatting corruption in the provinces. Despite the fact that this final measure never bore fruit, the people were more than satisfied with the outcome of the year and a half that he spent campaigning in Hispānia, not necessarily because it brought exotic riches back to the city, but because it was defined by a decisive defeat of the tribes that had betrayed the Rēs Pūblica, thus satiating the mob’s desire for vengeance. Tiberius Semprōnius Gracchus Minor would prove instrumental in diffusing the situation between Aemiliānus and the natives however, negotiating for the continued freedom of the Karpetānī in exchange for the men who had played a part in the setting and management of the brushfires that had been used to kill a Roman cōnsul and two Roman legions… and of course 1,000 hostages from among the nobility. The Karpetānī in turn, aided the Romans against the Lūsītānī, the Vettōnēs, and the Celtibērī, thought the country of the Vakkaiī would not see a Roman legion again for some decades. The tribes were weakened by this defeat, certainly, but they were not subjugated, and such was not the intent of Aemiliānus, or his colleague in office, Gāius Laelius. The intent was to define the proper boundaries of sovereignty between the Rēs Pūblica and the natives, with the Tagus and the Salō rivers being agreed upon at the Peace of Ebora between the Roman cōnsul and the indigenous leaders of the Lūsītānī, Vettōnēs, Vakkaiī, and the various tribes of the Celtibērī. Indeed, the war in Hispānia had been, up until this point in time, perhaps the longest lasting and most unpopular foreign venture that the government had ever engaged in, which made those responsible for tying matters up the most popular people in Rōma. Still, despite this popularity with the common people, Pulcher openly blamed him on the floor of the Senātus for the conflict in the first place, as it had been he who had raised a personal army seven years previously to combat the Lūsītānī for their raids against the Kingdom of Tingi in Āfrica, a matter which posed no threat to the Republic’s integrity. He further argued that Aemiliānus was a militaristic and populist demagogue, and that his faction had deliberately created the problem in Hispānia so as to represent its members as conquering heroes to win the love of the people. Indeed, such was an old political maneuver in Roman politics, and therefore represented nothing out of the ordinary, but these arguments were effective in shutting down the Lex Aemiliāna Laelia of 177 (137).


Gracchus however, had emerged from the matter like Leonídas at Thermopýlai - that is to say, the most remembered figure in the whole debaccle. He was still a tribūnus mīlitum, just barely 30, and yet it was shouted in the streets that “another Gracchus” had “brought peace in Hispānia”. Contemporary historians tell us that Gracchus acted as the interpreter at the negotiation table and deliberately mistranslated the terms so as to achieve the fairest outcome for both parties. This won him a severe tongue-lashing on the floor of the Senātus, but still made him a coveted protégé among the Aemilio-Metellan and Claudian factions. His newfound popularity saw him catapulted to the quaestorship the following year, where he was sent to Hispānia as quaestor to Lūcius Hostīlius Mancīnus, the praetor of the province of Hispānia Ulterior. As Mancīnus had remained in Rōma during his consulship, it was Gracchus that had more intimate and meaningful knowledge of the area, and therefore made an invaluable adviser in the day-to-day matters of governing the province. One notable event during Gracchus’ quaestorship was in his negotiations on the price of grain with local tribal chiefs, which would set the precedent for pricing in the coming decades for retiring veteran farmers. Although, another aspect of his quaestorship under Mancīnus was that the two were notorious for their enforcement of the legal limit of 500 iūgera on leased public lands. To his seniors of course, land reform was only important insomuch as it was to be used as a means of winning of winning the votes of veterans (those veterans that could vote, at least). On one hand, the Aemiliī-Metellī were strongly influenced by the politics of Mārcus Porcius Catō in terms of the utter importance of the supremacy of the Rēs Pūblica in the Mesógeios as a security measure, while on the other, the Claudiī were more superficial, and merely interested in whatever measures might be used to expand their political clientelle. Still, in the mind of the young budding politician, both factions were doing more harm in their bickering between one another than good, as the promises they had both made to the increasingly impoverished and destitute veterans were in the best interest of the Rēs Pūblica at large, and needed to be kept, rather than used as perpetual bargaining chips to win elections. These sentiments, coupled with his political reputation in Hispānia, would see those Roman citizens who went to Hispānia in the years following the Peace of Ebora make up an important portion of the groundwork of Gracchus’ future political clientelle, together with Roman citizens already in Hispānia Citerior who respected the weight his name carried in the region not only for his father, but for his part in ending the war.




Notes



1. The Third Macedonian War.

2. Contemporary indigenous name of the Jarama River.

3. ITTL, I am going with the notion that Lusitanian was a pre-Celtic Indo-European language, which I see as being well born out by the linguistic evidence in terms of anthroponyms. Now, the name Taurokos is actually attested in Roman Lusitania as Taurocus, but the name Saxansus is unattested. It is a constructed name of unattested elements on my part, from Proto-Indo-European *sek- “to cut” in the sense of “stone” and h2ens- “to engender, beget”.

4. Contemporary Carpetanian name of Azután, in Toledo Province, Spain.

5. Members of the Senate were barred from engaging in private enterprise.

6. Hypothetical contemporary indigenous pronunciation of the tribal name Turmodigi.

7. Contemporary name of the Guadalquivir River.

8. Contemporary name of the Jalón River.

9. Hypothetical contemporary Lusitanian/Vettonian name of the Sierra de Gredos in Spain, from Proto-Indo-European *kolǝn/kolǝm “top, hill, rock” and *sneg- “to crawl; creeping thing”, with a meaning of “mountains of the serpent”.

10. Contemporary Latin name of the region between the Tajo and Guadalquivir rivers.

11. Hypothetical contempoary Lusitanian/Vettonian name of the Guadarrama River, meaning “blood of the serpent”, in reference to the mountains where the river has its source.

12. Contemporary pronunciation of the Zapardiel River, from Punic for “river of frogs”.

13. Contemporary indigenous pronunciation of the tribal name Arevaci.

14. Contemporary Carpetanian name of Collado Villalba, Madrid Province, Spain.
 
Again I have very little to comment other than just wow, a Seleucid timeline is very rare and I commend you for doing it. I look forward to reading more.
 
Again I have very little to comment other than just wow, a Seleucid timeline is very rare and I commend you for doing it. I look forward to reading more.


Well thank you


I only took on the task because that is what the board voted for . That said, I have been enjoying writing this timeline a lot, so although I was initially disappointed that this is what the board voted for, it has ended up being great. The next update MIGHTbe finished by tomorrow, maybe... I hope so...
 
Fantastic to see this TL back up and running with a greater emphasis on Rome. I really look forward to seeing the future developments within the Roman Republic, and find the rest of it really interesting as well.

Might just be reading through the updates a third time, but it seems to be an easier read than the first time around. Hope to see more updates soon :)
 
Remains very cool. The idea of a timeline focused on a Diadochi state successfully resisting Rome this late in the Republic I don't think has been done before, and it's very neat.

That said, I'm wondering what precedent/basis there is, if any, for the amount of maritime power projection the Seleucids are undertaking in the Mediterranean in this timeline. I suppose in OTL they never really had the chance to, but I think it's interesting the degree of meddling they're getting up to (and quite successfully I might add) in the Western Mediterranean.

Generally, you've done a good job of making the reversals of the Romans and the successes of the Seleucids seem quite credible though. I look forward to seeing where this goes. I think the idea of a divided Mediterranean split along east west lines is tragically underexplored.
 
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