At the end of my last post, the Roman empire was in crisis. A third of the empire was in open rebellion, while the emperor himself had been captured by the Persians. His replacement, Claudius II, also died of sickness within two years.

Meanwhile, in spite of the recent assassination of the king of Palmyra and his heir, the city found itself wealthy and the major power in the region after a series of military victories. Into this setting entered Zenobia.

Although Zenobia was Odenathus’s second wife, with the king and his first born son slain, Zenobia’s son, Vaballathus, became heir to the throne. Zenobia is still famed for her beauty, being commemorated in Chaucer’s Monk’s Tale as:

Of Kynges blood of Perce¹ is she descended.
I seye nat that she hadde moost fairnesse,
But of hir shap she myghte nat been amended.

While the cheek of the quote is admirable, it is coming almost a thousand years after Zenobia lived. In fact, the sole contemporary image we have of Zenobia is a coin minted during her reign. In it, rather than immense beauty, she looks rather “prim and dowdy” according to Winsbury (p. 33), though definitely strong.

Either way, more important than whether she had the countenance for a Hollywood movie, Zenobia appears to have been a savvy political operator. In the early stages of her reign, Zenobia appears to have gone out of her way to get along with the local Roman governors. This did not seem to last, however, as she soon seems to come into conflict with Rome.

It is unclear who launched the campaign, either Claudius II shortly before his death or Aurelian, but shortly after Zenobia took the throne, there appears to have been some sort of conflict with Rome. The best hypothesis put forward by Southern is that it was a campaign launched by the Romans, ostensibly to finish Odenathus’s offensive against the Persians; however, the Palmyrans seemed to think the encroaching Roman forces were for them, and fought the army off. Whatever the case may be, Zenobia seems to have found herself having to protect the border against Persia, while receiving no help from a suspicious Rome. Consequently, she took matters into her own hands.

Upon the death of Claudius II, there was a brief moment of instability when it was unclear whether the general Aurelian or Claudius’s brother, Quintillus, would take over. Zenobia saw this as her opportunity and launched an invasion of Arabia and Egypt under general Zabdas. Arabia seems to have fallen first, although there are only sketchy accounts.

The campaign in Egypt was a back and forth affair. Zabdas initially defeated the 50,000 strong Roman garrison, with his own forces of 70,000. Leaving behind 5,000 of his men, Zabdas returned to Syria. Probus, the Roman prefect in Egypt, had been away fighting pirates and, upon hearing of the invasion, returned to Alexandria and swept aside the Palmyran defenders. This forced Zabdas to return to Egypt. Nevertheless, Probus assembled an army of Egyptians and Africans and drove the Palmyrans clear out of Egypt. However, once out of Egypt, the advantage returned to the Palmyrans, with their knowledge of the local terrain. In a decisive battle, Zabdas was able to sneak 2,000 of his men up a hidden winding path to a local peak. From there they launched a surprise attack on the Romans, catching them unaware and vanquishing them. As a good Roman, Probus committed suicide to maintain his honour.

With this, Zenobia effectively came to control the eastern third of the Roman Empire. This “struck not so much at the heart, but at the stomach of Rome itself” (p. 160), as Egypt provided roughly a third of the grain Rome required. Africa provided the other two thirds—Rome itself had long since stopped being self-sufficient. Nevertheless, Zenobia did not seem to seek full independence from Rome. She continued to allow grain shipments to reach the capital. Similarly, although the coins minted at this time bore the profile of her son on one side, they bore no claim of Imperial titles, and still portrayed Aurelian as the emperor of Rome on the reverse. Although disputed, it seems that Zenobia’s move was an attempt to renegotiate the position of Palmyra within the Empire.

Despite having only a couple of years of peace, it appears Zenobia ruled well. The Palmyran Empire proved to be a tolerant and pluralistic society, with Zenobia offering sanctuary to excommunicated Christians. The new emperor, Aurelian, could not let this stand, of course. With the troubles in Rome, it took roughly two years for Aurelian to amass his forces for a campaign against Zenobia. But by the end of 271, Aurelian began to move his forces toward Palmyra.

The Roman Emperor made his way largely unopposed through Asia Minor until he came to the city of Tyana. He apparently was incensed by the city’s refusal to bow to him and swore that he wouldn’t leave a dog alive. The Romans prepared for a siege, but at the last moment Tyana had a change of heart and begged for clemency, which Aurelian granted them. This was a dangerous thing to do, as previous emperors had been killed by their own troops for depriving them of the plunder. However, when his hypocrisy was pointed out, Aurelian ordered all the dogs in the city slaughtered. Apparently “the soldiers saw the joke” (p. 135).²

The first battle in the war for the East took place at Immae, just outside of Antioch. Palmyra did not possess a standing army like Rome, but its forces were impressive. In particular, being Arabian, the Palmyran cavalry were especially fearsome. They were heavily armoured, possibly even armouring their horses, and carried a variety of weapons, including bow and arrow. They were known as clibinarii—oven-pot men—for wearing heavy steel armour under the sweltering desert sun.³

Zabdas picked an open plain as the field of battle, where he could use his superior cavalry to great effect. Aurelian was either informed of this, or predicted his opponent’s movements and manoeuvred his forces to block the Palmyrans’ retreat. Seeing this, Zabdas began to move his own army to counter, forcing Aurelian’s hand. The Emperor finally launched the attack, sending his light cavalry forth to meet the Palmyran clibinarii. It was and easy victory for the oven-pot men, with the Romans quickly breaking and running from their heavily armed foes. Nevertheless, the nickname for the clibinarii soon proved apt as they tired themselves out under the sweltering conditions. At this point, the Romans revealed their ruse and rallied. Turning again to face the Palmyrans, they quickly dispatched their opponents, chasing down the oven-pot men on their poor, tired mounts.

Zabdas retreated to the city of Antioch, but decided not to hold it, especially in light of how quickly Tyana had lost its resolve. Instead, in order to maintain the loyalty of the city until he could get away, Zabdas paraded a look-alike of Aurelian in chains through the streets, proclaiming a great victory. He then slipped away during the night, so stealthily that the Romans actually arrived the next day to lay siege. Instead, Aurelian again offered the city clemency.

Although a severe blow to the Palmyrans, Immae was not the end of their hopes. After retreating to Emesa, Zabdas gathered his still considerable forces and awaited the Romans. Again the Palmyrans arrayed themselves on a plain so as to advantage their cavalry, and again Aurelian sent his cavalry to clash with the superior clibinarii. This time however, his plan did not work, and when the Roman cavalry broke, they broke in earnest and were “slaughtered wholesale” (p.139). However, in their victorious pursuit, the Palmyrans broke their line, allowing themselves to be flanked by the Romans. Aurelian’s infantry saw their chance a surged forth, shattering the Palmyran lines. Palestinian clubmen in particular distinguished themselves, wreaking havoc and sowing fear amongst the heavily armoured clibinarii. Supposedly with their clubs and cudgels they “were able to literally knock the iron cooking-pots off the shelf” (p. 123). This turned into a rout for the Palmyrans, with many being killed by their own side, trampled in their desperation to flee.

Zenobia and her generals fled to Palmyra where they assumedly did their best to prepare for a siege; although, not being a walled city, Palmyra was largely indefensible. Instead, they relied on the great expanse of desert between them and Emesa, hoping that it would take its toll on the Romans. Unfortunately for them, in an impressive feat of logistics, Aurelian managed to keep his army supplied during their 150 mile desert march, all the while being harassed by bandits and allies of Zenobia. Realising the situation was largely hopeless, under the cover of darkness Zenobia made a desperate flight for Persia to request aid. She was, however, captured trying to cross a river.Without Zenobia, the resistance fell apart. Some wanted to fight on for honour, but word of Aurelian’s clemency soon got out, and the odd defector soon became a steady stream.

There is no real consensus over Zenobia’s fate. Little exists of contemporary reports. Ancient records vary, with the Syrian queen either dying on route back to Rome or living on peacefully in Italy. It seems certain that at some point she would have been subject to public humiliation, either in Antioch or possibly being paraded through the streets of Rome in golden chains. Nevertheless, there is some evidence of her descendants living on in Rome, so it seems there may be something to the accounts of her being pardoned by Aurelian and given a house in Tivoli.

The story of Palmyra does not quite end there, however. It seems that within a year, Palmyra made another ill-fated attempt at rebellion. This time Aurelian returned with a vengeance. The extent to which the city was sacked is unclear; but whether the subsequent decline was sudden or slow, it appears this marked the end for Palmyra as a power in the ancient world. The Silk Road moved elsewhere and its wealth along with it, until its “inhabitants squatted uneasily or uncomprehendingly among the monuments of its former greatness” (p. 189). Though a sad ending for such an incredible city, perhaps the saddest words are the unintentional ones of Southern when he writes of “these magnificent buildings, still visible today…” (p. 154).

Academic Sources

Smith II, AM 2013, Roman Palmyra: identity, community and state formation, Oxford University Press, Oxford.

Southern, P 2008, Empress Zenobia: Palmyra’s Rebel Queen, Continuum, London.

Stoneman, R 1994, Palmyra and Its Empire: Zenobia’s revolt against Rome, University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor.

Winsbury, R 2010, Zenobia of Palmyra: History, Myth and the Neo-Classical Imagination, Bloomsbury Academic, London.

By now, I am sure you’re aware of the destruction that ISIS wrought upon Palmyra. And as if the city hasn’t experienced enough, it seems that after being recaptured, Syrian troops might be looting the city for their own share of the booty. I generally try to keep this light-hearted, but the stealing of a people’s history is unforgivable.

Khaled al-Asaad would likely agree with me. He was the 82-year-old scholar who was beheaded for failing to lead ISIS militants to valuable historic artefacts. Nevertheless, even he would have to acknowledge that the ruins of Palmyra are hardly the first to be destroyed by depraved fanatics, nor are they liable to be the last. There’s a reason they’re “ruins” after all.

Fortunately, it appears only about 20% of the ruins were seriously damaged. And with the city’s recapture, UNESCO is already discussing restoration works; although there are doubts as to how successful they will be. Also, in a spectacular show of defiance, the Russian Mariinsky Theatre Orchestra has played a concert in the Roman amphitheatre where ISIS held its executions.

Nevertheless, the question that ought to be asked is “What is this history that Khaled al-Asaad deemed to be worth dying for?”

The Rise of Palmyra

Palmyra is a literal oasis town, or rather was a literal oasis town until its main spring dried up in the 19th century. The establishment of the city is lost in time, but likely involved the settling down of nomadic tribes around the oasis. The town remained small for a long time, and might have forever remained a footnote in history if it weren’t for the Romans’ need for fancy things. Although, as pointed out by Winsbury, you should avoid having too romantic an image of the city. Although desert caravans stretching off into the dunes loaded with spice and incense makes for a beautiful mental scene; inscriptions from the time speak of taxes to be paid on slaves and prostitutes, “which casts a rather more lurid light on Palmyrene trade” (p. 27).

Exactly how trade began in Palmyra us up for contention. Certainly its location directly between Rome and Persia gave the city a prime position to control Roman trade not just with Arabia and Mesopotamia, but also with India and China. Still, Palmyra’s sudden transition from agricultural oasis town to mercantile oligopoly is difficult to explain. One theory is that the Palmyrenes were desert nomads and bandits who set about getting square, changing from bandits to guards to merchants. Apart from offering an explanation of how Palmyrene trade could spring from nowhere, it also offers an explanation for Palmyra’s surprising martial prowess for a trading city.

Palmyra had a strong militia; however, it was used for far more than just protecting caravans. Being wedged between the Romans and the Persians made for a precarious position. As the Romans expanded into the Middle-East, Palmyra came further and further under their sway, eventually becoming a Roman city; although they did retain special privileges, such as the right to maintain security forces. In this way, Palmyra became responsible for not just guaranteeing trade, but also the Eastern border of the empire.

This became crucially important in the third century AD when things were starting to look pretty grim for Rome. There were separatist movements in Britain, Hispania and Gaul (France) in the west; and in the east, the relatively peaceful Parthians were replaced by the aggressive Sassanians as the pre-eminent power in Persia. Sass wasn’t only in their name, but in their nature. Not entirely enthused about Rome’s recent meddling in the region, the Sassanians were keen to kick them out. More than this, they wanted to restore the empire of Darius and Xerxes (of 300 fame).

The Roman emperor, Valerian, was not going to stand for this in any way, and headed east to deal with this upstart dynasty. Unfortunately for him, however, he was resoundingly defeated, and even captured by the Sassanian king, Shapur.

It is here that the Palmyrans truly started to make a name for themselves. Odenathus, the Palmyran king, stepped into the breach. Gathering an army of Palmyrans, Syrian peasants and whatever Roman forces would rally to his cause, he pursued the withdrawing Persian forces, catching them on the banks of the Euphrates. There he dealt Shapur an embarrassing defeat, failing to free Valerian, but supposedly managing to capture Shapur’s harem. In the following years, Odenathus launched a second campaign against the Persians and, despite an unsuccessful siege against their capital, by 267AD had restored all of the perviously Roman lands. The historian Winsbury describes this as “the Empire Strikes back” (p. 68). Odenathus, even found time to crush a rebellion against Rome in the meantime. For his deeds, Odenathus was granted the title corrector totius orientis or “Restorer of the East.”

What is remarkable about Odenathus, beyond his military successes, was that at a time of rebellion, he stayed loyal to Rome. He took Arabic titles, such as “King of Kings”, but appeared content with the Roman titles he was granted (and the Romans couldn’t care less what other titles he took). Of course, there are other interpretations of his actions. Winsbury, for instance, prefers to see Odenathus as a ruler that worked more for Palmyran interests. He makes much of a tale in which Odenathus gave a number of gifts to Shapur to improve relations, but the Persian king simply threw them in a river. Furthermore, in their attack on Rome, the Persians had destroyed Palmyran trading posts all along their advance. In this light, Odenathus’s military campaigns can be seen as opportunistic reprisals as much as valiant conquests for Rome.

Whatever the truth of the matter, Odenathus definitely upset somebody, as both he and the son he bore to his first wife were assassinated in roughly 267AD. To this day, the motives and perpetrators are up for contention, with everyone from wary Roman emperors to his wife who would succeed him, Zenobia, being accused at some point. Either way, the assassination of Odenathus would irrevocably change Palmyran history.

As we’ll see next week, these actions would indirectly spark the sudden expansion of Palmyra’s sphere of influence. Within five years, Palmyra would have become a proper empire, comprising of roughly the eastern third of Rome. However, as fast as it would flare into existence, the Palmyran Empire would be extinguished, and within ten years the city would be sacked, and never again be a world power. All of this would occur at the hands of the beautiful Queen Zenobia, Odenathus’s second wife, who we will learn about next week.

Academic Sources

Smith II, AM 2013, Roman Palmyra: identity, community and state formation, Oxford University Press, Oxford.

Southern, P 2008, Empress Zenobia: Palmyra’s Rebel Queen, Continuum, London.

Stoneman, R 1994, Palmyra and Its Empire: Zenobia’s revolt against Rome, University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor.

Winsbury, R 2010, Zenobia of Palmyra: History, Myth and the Neo-Classical Imagination, Bloomsbury Academic, London.