The Battle of Himera, a major confrontation

The history of Sicily is a very complicated one. To simplify things, I like to state that the Greeks colonized the island starting as early as the 8th century BC and that their success was such that it raised the envy and jealousy of the Carthaginians, which led to repeated quarrels and battles. Of course, this is a very simplistic explanation because “the Greeks” came from different cities and city-states in the motherland, where they fought among themselves: Corinth, Athens, and Sparta, or from the islands of Rhodes and Crete. By the fifth century BC, mainland Greece suffered from two nearly consecutive invasions by the mighty Persian army, the first in 492-490 BC, which ended with the Battle of Marathon under Darius I, and the second led by King Xerxes I in 480-479 BC, which was settled with the Battle of Plataea and the naval Battle of Mycale. At the same time, the Carthaginians had reached an agreement with the Persians to reduce the Greeks in Sicily, meaning that Persia was, although indirectly, attacking simultaneously on two fronts.

The Carthaginians may have seized the opportune moment now that Sicily was divided among their allies (Selinus (Selinunte) and Himera) and their enemies (Syracuse and Akragas (Agrigento)). They had already conquered several cities on the west and north coasts of the island, like Motya and Panormos (Palermo), and now saw their chance to extend their power further eastward. Carthage had a powerful general Hamilcar, who led both military and naval forces on his warships across the Libyan Sea.

Terillos of Himera was his ally against Syracuse, a tyrant who lacked popular support. In 483 BC, the situation changed as Theron, tyrant of Akragas, deposed Terillos and added Himera to his own realm. Himera was now in the adverse camp, and it is not surprising that Terillos asked the Carthaginians for help to fight against his enemies. He had, however, to wait almost three years before Hamilcar decided to organize an expedition against Sicily.

I am being taken to the very heart of this decisive battle by Michael Metcalfe as I am travelling around Sicily on a tour organized by Peter Sommer Travels “Exploring Sicily”. Before arriving at Himera, I was captivated by Michael’s lively re-enactment of entering the Castle of Eurialo, and I took in the reasons for the solid defenses against the Carthaginians at Motya and Gela. As the tour moved on, the rich historical remains of Syracuse and the sacred area around the sanctuaries of Agrigento, Selinunte, and Segesta have all been mentally reconstructed – even the quarry of Cave di Cusa abandoned since the Carthaginian invasion, looked very real. With my fellow-aficionados, we now flock around Michael to hear how this major battle between the Sicilian allies and Carthage evolved.

As so many times before, Michael is quoting from Diodorus Siculus, a Sicilian historian who lived in the first century BC, and he is voicing the full action. We are actually standing opposite Himera inside the remains of a Doric temple, believed to be the Temple of Victory, built as a celebration just after the war. On the left was the encampment of the Carthagian navy, and on the right the one reserved for their landforces. As always, the figures in antiquity were very much inflated, and Diodorus is no exception when he mentions that 300,000 men and 200 warships went underway together with a fleet of 3,000 and more merchantmen to transport the supplies. Modern historians have calculated that 200 ships is a fair amount, and since they could never have held 1,500 men each, they concluded that 150 men per vessel is about right. This would bring the total number of soldiers to 30,000, i.e., 1/10th of what is being reported. The same logic can be applied to the merchantmen, which would reach 300 instead of 3,000.

Holding Diodorus’ account in hand, Michael tells us how the army had suffered badly from a storm during which Hamilcar lost the vessels carrying his horses and chariots. He first made a halt in the harbor of Panormos (modern Palermo), where he spent three days repairing the storm damage and resting his troops. From here, he marched towards Himera, with the fleet escorting him along the way. Here, the warships were hauled ashore, and the encampments were surrounded by a deep ditch and wooden palisade. After the army supplies were unloaded, the merchants were sent back with orders to bring in more grain and other goods from Libya and Sardinia. Hamilcar then marched on Himera, located on the slope ahead of us, with the pick of his troops, killing many of the Himerans who had ventured out of the city walls. Hamilcar’s daring action scared Theron, the ruler of Akragas, whose role it was to protect Himera, and he decided to send an urgent message to Syracuse for help. Gelon of Syracuse had a huge army in readiness, and as soon as he received the call from Theron, he marched from Syracuse with 50,000 infantry and over 5,000 cavalry according to Diodorus, although 10,000 infantry and 2,000 cavalry sounds more reasonable – a large force anyway. Watching the arrival of Gelon’s men must have been quite comforting to the Himerans, who I picture standing on the roofs of their houses or on a safe spot on the city walls.

While setting up his own encampment outside the city (and Michael points to the plain behind us), Theron sent his cavalry out against the Carthaginians, roaming the countryside in search of easy plunder. At least 1,000 men were rounded up and made prisoners. At this stage, and as strange as it may seem, the inhabitants of Himera came to respect Gelon and despise the Carthaginians.

Gelon, who by now was generally accepted as a man of outstanding generalship and clear insight, started to look for an easy way to outwit his enemy without having to sacrifice the lives of his own men. He knew that Hamilcar was preparing for a lavish sacrifice to the gods, and he felt that this was his chance to set the enemy’s fleet afire. Luck was on his side when horsemen reached him with a message that was intercepted from a courier on his way to deliver letters from the people of Selinus to the enemy camp. These letters mentioned that they would send their cavalry on the day Hamilcar had asked for them. A chance opportunity for Gelon since that day was the same as the one planned for the Carthaginian sacrifices. The tyrant of Syracuse sent out a cavalry of his own, ordering them to take a wide loop and making it look as if they were the couriers coming from Selinus. Once inside the Carthaginian stockade, their instructions were to kill Hamilcar and set his ships afire.

From our vantage point inside the temple, it feels as if we can overlook the entire operation, and we hold our breath together with the people of Himera, who are living between hope and fear. Scouts had been posted high up the surrounding hills, for they would signal when the horsemen arrived inside the enemy’s camp.

At sunrise, the fake friendly cavalry rode up to the Carthaginians and was admitted inside the camp by the guards as their supposed allies. They rode straight up to the place where Hamilcar was holding his sacrifice, killed the general, and set fire to the ships. At this point, the scouts in the hills gave the signal, and Gelon advanced with his entire army in close order. The Carthaginians were entirely taken by surprise, trumpets sounded the alarm, and a fierce battle developed. But when the flames of their burning ships rose high into the sky, and the news of Hamilcar’s death started to spread among his men, most Carthaginians got disheartened, and the Greeks took courage. Gelon had given instructions that no one should be taken alive, and the carnage of the fugitives must have been horrendous. Since the heat of the battle was probably fought at the very spot where we are listening to this vivid story, I stare at my feet, realizing the soil must have been soaked in blood – an uneasy feeling to say the least, even after so many centuries. Reasonable figures mention that 30,000 men were killed or wounded, and certainly not all casualties fell in the enemy camp. Wow, what a place to be standing!

The temple that is our vantage point was, in fact, built by the Carthaginians taken captive on the orders of Gelon of Syracuse. Its dedication to Niké/Victory is uncertain, for it may as well have been built in honor of Athena. In any case, it was destroyed and burnt to the ground soon after its completion, and most likely in 409 BC when the Carthaginians attacked the city of Himera again.

After his victory, Gelon rewarded the brave cavalry that had killed Hamilcar and gave out decorations to other valorous combatants. The prisoners were shared proportionally among his allies, who employed them as laborers on public works. Akragas got most of the workforce, mainly because many of the Carthaginian soldiers had fled into the interior, inside Akragas’ territory in particular. They were the men who quarried the stones (like at Cave di Cusa) and who worked on the construction of many temples, the biggest being the Temple of Zeus (see: The Valley of the Temples at Akragas, Sicily). They were also forced to dig out the extravagant swimming pool in Akragas, which served as a water reservoir and a pond for fresh fish. This pond did not last long since it was drained approximately one century later to eventually become a garden where the Arabs cultivated their oranges, the Kolymbetra Garden.

Peace had returned to Himera, but it was short-lived. The Carthaginians had not forgotten their bitter defeat, and they attacked again in 409 BC when Sicily was torn apart by internal conflicts. This time, Himera was razed to the ground and never rebuilt.

So much for the proud city of Himera and so much for this unique experience: Thank you, Michael!

Syracuse rivaled Athens to be the most powerful city

Syracuse always had a magical sound, tucked away down south of Italy on the island of Sicily, that, like no other, was and still is at the crossroads between east and west, north and south. This strategic location not only shows on the map of the Mediterranean but more so when you visit the island. That is precisely what I finally did after dreaming about it since my teenage years. Finding myself in the very heart of Syracuse, it is hard to describe what I feel or expect. I’m totally overwhelmed, as if floating on some imaginary sea, the currents taking me to the core of its great past.

It may come as a surprise to learn that Syracuse once rivaled Athens for its power over the Greek world, but as part of Magna Graecia, this was Greece away from Greece, which we have to approach from a totally different angle. Syracuse was the very first city to be settled in Sicily, and it was the Corinthians who, in 733 BC, disembarked on the small island of Ortygia just off the coast. It was soon attached to the mainland by a causeway, creating two practical harbors, one on the southwest and one on the northeast. Syracuse grew quickly and then created its own colonies, like Akrai, Kasmenai, Heloros, and Kamarina.

With its expansion came the need for some form of government. Not being happy with the Corinthian aristocrats who imposed themselves from the onset, Syracuse turned to Gelon, tyrant of neighboring Gela, a colony of Rhodians and Cretans that had settled as early as 688 BC. Gelon took his task seriously and moved the larger part of Gela’s population to Syracuse, which became his capital in 485 BC. The Syracusans must have felt they made the right decision, for Gelon was able to defeat the Carthaginians at nearby Himera five years later. However, it must be said he did so with the help of his father-in-law, Theron of Akragas (modern Agrigento). This at least kept the matter in the family. The victorious Gelon had taken thousands of prisoners of war, whom he now enslaved. The finest artisans among them built a temple at the summit of Ortygia dedicated to Athena to thank her for this victory. It probably was finished in 480 BC.

We can still admire this temple in the old town of Syracuse as an integral part of the cathedral (Duomo), whose façade was rebuilt in 1728-1754 in Sicilian-Baroque style after several earthquakes had damaged the Norman entrance. Isn’t it amazing that a place of worship has been used and reused continuously for 2,500 years? This temple was erected in the Doric style, six columns wide and fourteen deep, with doors inlaid with ivory and gold. The larger-than-life statue of Athena would have ruled over the inside, an imposing figure made of Paros marble with her face, hands, feet, and weapons of pure gold. The tympanum of the temple was enhanced with a golden shield that reflected the sunlight, a landmark to the sailors. A refined statement of the city’s wealth, no doubt, till it was taken down by a too-greedy Roman politician, Caius Verres, some four hundred years later.

In Byzantine times, the temple was converted into a church, and the cella walls were pierced to create open arches while the space between the columns was walled up. Under the Arabs, the church became a mosque. Traces of this period can be seen on the outside walls where the Muslims added crenellations above the Greek triglyphs and metopes. Upon their arrival, the Normans raised the roof and inserted narrow windows. The chestnut ceiling is a later Spanish addition (using the hard chestnut wood from the Etna region). I read all this information but still need to figure out what to expect from this sanctuary that is right around the corner from my hotel.

The Baroque façade flanked by statues of the apostles Peter and Paul, carved in pure Carrara marble, doesn’t betray what the inside has in store for me. Once I cross the threshold of the Duomo, I am stepping into another world. It literally takes my breath away as I’m immediately confronted with the interior of a Greek temple – or at least as close as one can come to it. I’m standing in the temple’s opisthodomos, looking into the north apse between the outer columns (now walled) and the wall of the cella. The Byzantines have opened that up to let the light flow through the inner sanctuary. The narrow windows the Normans inserted near the capitals of the Doric columns filter the late-afternoon sunlight. There are more windows above the vaulted walls of the inner cella, where stylish chandeliers add to the eerie atmosphere of this church. It is hard to figure out which part is Greek, Byzantine, or Norman, but the result is absolutely superb and harmonious. Along both sides of the modern nave, we can read the Latin inscription “Ecclesia Syracusana prima Divi Petri filia et prima post Antiochenam Christo dicata.” In other words, “The church of Syracuse is the first daughter of divine Peter and the first to be dedicated to Christ after Antioch,” i.e., a confirmation that this is the oldest Christian community in Europe.

Two columns from the original opisthodomos of the cella flank the entrance door. Another twelve columns on the north and nine on the south side are still in situ, sturdy Doric fluted columns almost nine meters high and two meters in diameter! The twelve columns of the north side are also visible from the Via Minerva, around the corner of the piazza. They include their architrave and triglyphs above which the Muslim crenellation has been added.

The floor of the Duomo is covered with colored marble, and I wonder about the dating of the different designs, interrupted by colorful tombstones that carry coats of arms. The main altar is typical 16th century with a painting of the Nativity of the Virgin, which I find somewhat out of place, as much as I am absorbed by the antique Greek remains. In the eastern corner is a chapel, the Cappella del Crocifisso, with ceiling frescos that remind me of the Sixteen Chapel at a very early stage. There are two more chapels along the south wall, but these are unfortunately closed at the time of my visit.

Walking back to the entrance, I get an unexpected glimpse of the north aisle and notice three commanding statues positioned in the perfect place between the columns and the openings in the cella-wall. They could well be antique gods or goddesses as far as I am concerned, but on closer look, they are 15th-century statues of St Lucy, a Madonna with Child, and St Catherine of Alexandria, made in pure white Carrara marble.

                  

Amazing how this amalgam of architectural styles and religions can trick the eye and the mind. A true jewel, though …

[Click here to see all the pictures of Akrai]