Hello, χαίρετε, and welcome to Epic Greek History Episode 35, Mr. X … or Xerxes, We Hardly Knew Ye. I’m Scott Emmons. 

In the last episode I had plenty to say about the Persian king Xerxes. Not really Xerxes himself, but Xerxes as Herodotus portrayed him. That Xerxes is as much a literary character as a historical figure. This is the perennial problem in understanding the Persian Wars. Virtually all our information comes from Greek sources, so naturally it reflects a Greek point of view. There are inscriptions from the Persian Empire that shed some light on Xerxes’ reign, and we’ll look at some of those later in this episode. But for extended narratives that describe his exploits in detail and illustrate his character, we have only Greek authors. For that reason, any attempt to discover “the real Xerxes” (in quotes) would be a waste of time, at least with the evidence we have now. But we can at least try to look at him from different angles and put him in a broader context.   

Before I start digging into Persian sources, though, I want to address what I think is a common misconception about Herodotus’ portrayal of Xerxes. The story Herodotus tells is one of a glorious Greek victory over invaders, so of course the Persians are the bad guys and the king is the villain. But that doesn’t mean he has no admirable qualities. There’s a tendency among some modern commentators to assume Herodotus’ goal is always to show Xerxes in a bad light. He’s weak, incompetent, foolish, cruel, what have you. But I don’t think the Herodotean Xerxes is a 1960s Batman villain. He has layers. Sometimes Herodotus portrays him with great dignity and majesty. At the end of the passage where he enumerates the king’s troops, he says, quote: “And of so many tens of thousands of men, not one of them was, by reason of his good looks and stature, more worthy of holding this power than Xerxes.” Unquote

There are times when Xerxes acts nobly and with a great deal of wisdom. A case in point is when the Spartans have committed a sacrilege by killing the messengers from Darius who came demanding earth and water. They send two of their own men to Persia to be executed in order to purify their city from the stain. Xerxes spares their lives, saying he’s not going to commit the same kind of sacrilege that the Spartans had when they killed the Persian heralds. At the other extreme, there’s the story of Pythius, a wealthy Lydian who offers all his riches to Xerxes for his campaign, and the king is so delighted, he not only declines the gift but adds to Pythius’ wealth. But later, when Pythius asks him to exempt his oldest son from service so that he’ll have someone to help him in his old age, Xerxes flies into a rage, has the son cut in two, and marches his army out between the two halves.   

Why would Herodotus portray him so differently in different parts of his history? I think the simplest explanation is that he got multiple stories from different sources and wasn’t going to reject material just because it didn’t fit a preconceived image of Xerxes as a mustache-twirling villain. On balance, he comes across as hot-tempered and hubristic. But I can’t go along with those who say Herodotus represents these as “barbarian” traits. After all, he has plenty of bad things to say about individual Greeks too. 

But enough about Greek authors. When we turn our attention to Persian sources, there are a couple of things we can observe right away. First off, his name was not Xerxes. When we say, “Xerxes,” we’re anglicizing the classical Greek “Ξέρξης.” But that was just a Greek version of his Old Persian name, which sounded something like “Xšayāršā,” and it meant, “Ruling over heroes.” The Greeks weren’t being obtuse when they turned it into “Xerxes.” His name took a variety of forms when it was rendered into Babylonian cuneiform, Aramaic, and so on. Another important thing to point out is that his reign didn’t end with the failure of the Greek expedition. Herodotus has very little to say about him after his return to Asia. So we can easily be misled into thinking that was it for Xerxes. But he continued to rule for about the next 15 years, and there’s no indication that he lost any power or prestige because of the defeat in Greece.  

Well, if we’re looking for Persian portrayals of Xerxes, our best sources are a few royal inscriptions at Persepolis, which from Darius’ time on was the ceremonial heart of the Achaemenid empire. And if Greek authors showed him mainly as a villain, here we have just the opposite problem. The inscriptions are Xerxes’ own representations of himself. They convey the image he wanted to project to his court and all his subjects. The difficulties are obvious. Imagine if future historians were trying to reconstruct the Trump presidency, and the only sources they had were his social media posts. You can see what a challenge that would be. 

Well, one inscription that we can compare directly with Greek accounts deals with Xerxes’ succession. According to Herodotus, Darius’ oldest son Artobarzanes tried to claim the throne on the basis of seniority, but the matter was peacefully settled through the influence of Xerxes’ mother Atossa and the exiled Spartan king Demaratus. Xerxes gives us the “official” version in writing at Persepolis. All my translations of Persian inscriptions are those published in Maria Brosius’ book, A History of Ancient Persia. In this one, Xerxes proclaims, quote: 

Darius had other sons also, but thus was the desire of Ahuramazda: Darius, my father, made me the greatest after himself. When my father Darius went to his allotted place, by the favor of Ahuramazda I became king in my father’s place. Unquote 

That inscription indicates that there must have been some discussion in the court over who Darius’ successor should be. Otherwise, why even mention that Darius had other sons? But he seems to be telling the truth here. There’s a relief carving from the Persepolis complex that shows Darius seated on his throne while another royal figure stands behind him. It’s clear that the standing figure is royalty because, like Darius, he’s considerably bigger than the other people depicted. That figure almost certainly represents Xerxes, indicating that Darius had already chosen him to inherit the throne. And it was a logical choice, because Xerxes’ mother was Atossa, the daughter of Cyrus the Great. 

You may have noticed also that this short account of his succession includes two references to the great god Ahuramazda. That speaks to the religious dimension of the king’s authority. This is something I probably should have emphasized more in the episode where I covered Darius’ reign. As you may recall, Darius had a very dubious claim to the throne. He and his co-conspirators assassinated the ruling king Bardiya, then put out the story that the man they’d killed was really an imposter, a “false Bardiya,” or the “false Smerdis” as Greek authors knew him. Darius had to do everything he could to make sure the Persian court and vassal kings across the empire would recognize him as the rightful king. I think he must have been an absolute master of propaganda to pull that off. And a key part of this propaganda scheme was to promote himself as Ahuramazda’s representative in the world. 

Ahuramazda was by far the most powerful, most august deity in the ancient Iranian pantheon. It wasn’t a monotheistic religion. Persian texts often refer to “Ahuramazda and the other gods,” but those other gods are often not named. He’s probably best known to us as the god of Zoroastrianism, but it’s uncertain how far Zoroastrianism had developed in this period, so many scholars refer to the religion in this era simply as Mazdaism. In any case, Darius constantly hammered home the point that he was king by the grace of Ahuramazda. That meant that his reign was aligned with the principle of Arta, “Truth” or “Order.” And anyone opposed to his authority was a follower of Drauga, “The Lie.” 

But that didn’t mean Darius was going to impose a religious system on subject peoples at the expense of their own deities. If you were Egyptian, Babylonian, Lydian, or whatever, you could continue worshipping your ancestral gods and performing the traditional rites. As far as Darius was concerned, acknowledgement of his authority counted as honoring Ahuramazda. If you behaved the way an obedient subject should, you were aligned with truth and order. After Darius’ death, we see Xerxes carrying on the same religious policy. His authority and his decisions are the will of Ahuramazda. 

There is one curious Persepolis inscription that looks at first glance like Xerxes departed from the religious tolerance that his predecessors had practiced. It’s called the “daiva” inscription — “daiva” meaning something like “demon” — and it refers to one country in the empire that was, quote, “In commotion.” We don’t really know what country it was, but it’s often taken to mean Babylonia, where we know that Xerxes had to put down a revolt. The relevant part of the inscription reads, quote: 

Xerxes the king says: “When I became king, there was one among these countries which are inscribed above, one which was in commotion. Afterwards Ahuramazda brought me aid. By the favor of Ahuramazda I struck that country and subdued it. Among these countries there was a place where previously demons had been worshipped. Afterwards, by the favor of Ahuramazda, I destroyed that sanctuary of demons, and I made a proclamation. ‘The demons had been worshipped.’ Where previously the demons had been worshipped, there I worshipped Ahuramazda in accordance with truth, reverently.” Unquote 

It’s easy for us to look at that and assume it was something like Christian religious authorities in the late Roman Empire and the medieval period stamping out pagan cults. But it’s not really clear what these “demons” are that Xerxes refers to. And we don’t have any evidence of an empire-wide crackdown on native religions. I’m way out of my depth here, but the consensus of experts on ancient Persia seems to be that the real issue was disloyalty to the king. If you were rebellious, you were not honoring Ahuramazda, and it was the king’s job to bring you back to Truth and Order.

Another way Xerxes carried on his father’s legacy was to continue his monumental building program at Persepolis. Darius had built an extensive palace complex there, which included a magnificent reception hall called the Apadana. Relief carvings in the Apadana showed people from various regions of the empire bringing gifts to the king. Inscriptions proudly proclaimed that building materials had come from all over the empire. The overall effect was to represent the empire as a collection of different nations all brought together into one harmonious whole under the benevolent rule of the Great King.  

Xerxes picked up where Darius had left off. He added a monumental double staircase leading from the fortification wall up to the terrace where the palace complex stood. A visitor coming up that staircase would arrive to find another of Xerxes’ additions, the Gate of All Nations. This was a big, colonnaded hall, impressively decorated with sculptures of human-headed bulls with wings. Inside the entrance were stone benches where visitors could rest before being called into the audience hall where the king would receive them. An inscription there reads, quote: 

Xerxes the king proclaims: “By the favor of Ahuramazda I built this Gate of All Nations. Much other good construction was built within this city of Parsa, which I built and which my father built. Whatever good construction is seen, we built all that by the grace of Ahuramazda.” Unquote 

Xerxes’ message couldn’t be clearer — that he’s his father’s successor, continuing the works of the Achaemenid dynasty with the blessing of Ahuramazda. The very name, Gate of All Nations, reinforces that message of harmony among different peoples within the empire. It’s worth noting that these inscriptions were trilingual, written in Old Persian, Elamite, and Babylonian, so that just about any literate visitor from the provinces would be able to read them. 

So the Persian inscriptions give us some proclamations about Xerxes’ accession, his righteous suppression of revolts, and his accomplishments as a builder… but not a word about the thing he’s now most famous for, his expedition to Greece. For that and for any extended narratives about his reign after the war, we’re back to Greek authors. All we get from Herodotus about Xerxes’ postwar reign is some gossip about love affairs and palace intrigue. The story goes that while Xerxes was still in Sardis, he fell in love with the wife of his brother Masistes. Herodotus doesn’t give us her name, she’s just Masistes’ hot wife. Xerxes wasn’t getting anywhere with her, but he thought he could score points by arranging a marriage between his son Darius and her daughter, who does have a name — Artaynte. At this point they all returned to the capital at Susa, and by the time they got there, Xerxes had lost interest in his sister-in-law and was now lusting after Artaynte, the daughter. He was doing pretty well with her, but it all blew up in his face when he promised to give her anything she wanted, and she said, “I really love that fancy robe you’re wearing. I want that.” The robe happened to be one that Xerxes’ wife Amestris had woven and embroidered for him, so… awkward. But he’d made the promise, so he had to give it to her. Well, when Amestris saw Artaynte wearing the robe, she knew what was going on. She wasn’t happy, but she didn’t blame Artaynte. She blamed her mother, the wife of Masistes. And she worked out a plot to have her horribly mutilated. Masistes had already had a fight with Xerxes, and this abuse of his wife was the last straw. He headed off to the satrapy of Bactria to stir up a revolt. But Xerxes’ army caught up with him and killed him before he could do any damage.  

That’s all Herodotus has to say about the later part of Xerxes’ reign. Coming right after the decisive battles of the Persian War, it feels weirdly out of context. Scholars have come up with some ingenious ways of explaining why it’s there. It’s usually taken to be Herodotus portraying Xerxes as a frivolous character who’s failed in his great undertaking and then fritters away his time in illicit love affairs. I suspect the reason is much more prosaic. It seems likely to me that when Herodotus inquired about Xerxes’ activities after the invasion, this was the information he got. It may have been mostly from other Greeks, but he had Persian informants too, and they probably enjoyed palace gossip as much as anyone. The story does seem anticlimactic, since it comes so close to the end. But there’s also the possibility that Herodotus never considered his work finished. He might have had more to add after the end of the text as we now have it. 

There’s a curious connection to this story of palace scandals in the one surviving non-Greek narrative involving Xerxes — and that is the Book of Esther in the Hebrew Bible. Now, the consensus of biblical scholars is that the Book of Esther is a fictional narrative and isn’t intended to be an actual historical chronicle. But it is set in the court of Xerxes, whose name comes across in Hebrew as Ahashuerus. In this tale, he takes a Jewish wife, Esther, who then uses her influence to prevent the villainous provincial governor Haman from wiping out the Jewish people. That story is the basis for the festival of Purim, which is still celebrated every spring. There’s no need to go through the whole megillah, as they say, but just to point out a couple of striking parallels… In both stories, a queen or a noblewoman manipulates the king into getting what she wants. Both include the folktale motif that once the king has made a promise, he can’t take it back. And strikingly, both stories include an episode where the king gives away a royal robe. The connections aren’t strong enough to indicate that one story influenced the other. But they suggest that Xerxes’ court provided a lot of material for gossip. Tales of this kind must have been passed around all over the Near East and Greece.

One other odd thing about Herodotus’ account is that it never mentions Xerxes’ death. He must have known about it. And it seems like something Herodotus would have wanted to follow up on, if only for narrative purposes. But for whatever reason, it’s not there. From other sources, we know that he was killed in a palace coup in 465 BCE and was succeeded by his son Artaxerxes I. Greek authors give contradictory accounts of how it all went down. The version that traces back to the late 5th-century historian Ctesias says the commander of the royal bodyguard, a man named Artabanus, conspired with a palace eunuch to kill Xerxes. He then accused the king’s other son Darius of the murder and persuaded Artaxerxes to put him to death. Aristotle, on the other hand, says Artabanus killed Darius first and then killed Xerxes to avoid punishment. Against that, a fragment of a Babylonian astronomical document says matter-of-factly that on such-and-such a date, Xerxes was murdered by his own son. Well, however it happened, Xerxes died a violent death and his son Artaxerxes inherited the throne.. 

But I’ve gotten ahead of my timeline. We have yet to see Xerxes’ invasion of Greece and how it was ultimately thwarted. In the next episode, we’ll return to the Herodotean Xerxes — by turns regal, cowardly, magnanimous, cruel, wise and foolish. It may not be a very accurate picture of Xerxes’ character, but it’s certainly the one that’s had the greatest influence in the western world. 

And that concludes Episode 35. I hope you’ve enjoyed this attempt to look at Xerxes from different angles. If you have a comment, a question, or anything you’d like to add, please shoot me an email at scott@epicgreekhistory.com, or just leave a comment on my Facebook or Instagram. I’m Scott Emmons. Music for this episode was composed and produced by Matt Hobbs and Parry Gripp. My logo and other artwork are by Chris Harding. Until next time, ευτυχεĩτε! Be well.