It was an attack directed at a prominent target, to generate maximum publicity. It was an attack directed at a civilian target, specifically to inspire terror. It was prepared in secret and it was carried out with perfect co-ordination. It proved that even a Superpower, previously thought invincible, could be caught off-guard.
It was the summer of 88BC and Rome had been having problems with Mithridates for some time. Charismatic, bold, elusive, King Mithridates, was no ordinary opponent. Of many legends told about him one of the most colourful is that he experimented on himself endlessly with poison, until he developed an immunity against all its forms. His kingdom was on the coast of the Black Sea in what is now northern Turkey. It bordered the Roman province of Asia, which had by then been for fifty years the most lucrative corner of the burgeoning Roman Empire.
Asia yielded wealth in many forms – precious metals, precious stones and above all precious tax. Its huge population was taxed until the pips squeaked. This was the way of Rome, to acquire land through conquest and then enrich herself through taxation of those newly conquered: a military-fiscal complex. Roman aristocrats queued up to get a provincial governorship in Asia, knowing that a three-year term there would make you rich beyond your dreams.
In 89BC it had been the turn of one Manius Aquillius. Recognising that Asia was nearly sucked dry Aquillius started to eye up opportunities for expansion and his eye settled on Pontus. That summer he created a pretext for an invasion and sent in the army of a local client king to drive Mithridates out.
He miscalculated. Mithridates beat off the attack with ease, but the matter didn’t end there. Not only did Mithridates beat off the invader, he decided to come after Rome herself.
This was not a decision to be taken lightly. Rome, the world’s unquestioned Superpower had proven many times what a ruthless and terrifying opponent she could be. So, instead of a full frontal assault Mithridates opted for stealth. He crossed secretly into the province of Asia and made for the rich cities on the eastern Mediterranean coast. There he found two things: a local population exploding with resentment against what it saw as Roman exploitation, and a Roman garrison of a single legion – 5,000 men – far fewer than he had anticipated. After decades of military success the Romans had taken their eye off the ball. For as long as they could remember the Roman army had been on the offensive. It simply didn’t consider the possibility that it might be attacked.
Mithridates organized secret cells within all the cities of the eastern Mediterranean, prosperous cities where Roman businessmen had traded for two generations. And on one fixed night they struck. Hired assassins rounded up not just the men, but women and children too and massacred them in a terrifying, unforeseen and sycnhronised attack. According to one source, the Roman author Valerius Maximus, 80,000 people were slaughtered at a stroke.
The effect in Rome was electric. Outrage at the violence perpetrated against a civilian population, and shock at this startling evidence of vulnerability was followed at once by a desire for revenge, and they poured troops into the Middle East. But revenge was to be more than twenty years coming. Several great Roman warlords, including Lucius Lucullus and Cornelius Sulla, tried in vain to effect Mithridates’ defeat. In the end it was Pompey who did so, destroying the army of the Pontic King in 65BC. Mithridates himself, however, was never taken. Unable to kill himself by poison because of his immunity he ordered one of his slaves to stab him with his own sword.
