Nic Fields - Carrhae 53 BC: Romes Disaster in the Desert

With Rome rapidly descending into social turmoil and political anarchy, Marcus Licinius Crassus, when he was approaching his sixties and his hearing was impaired (Cic. Tusc. 5.40 116), seized his chance for the full glory of a military triumph he craved. This was a matchless honour denied him two decades before following his suppression of the formidable slave army led by the equally formidable Spartacus (Third Servile War, 7371 BC ): its absence had continued to annoy the old man. Crassus had begun his second consulship (55 BC ) with the express aim of going to war with Parthia, an ally and friend of the Roman people, socius et amicus Romani populi. This was a very vague title it seems, but official relations between Rome and Parthia started with a treaty of Roman amicitia in 96 BC (according to the best of our evidence.

The treaty arose against the backdrop of Romes current troubles with those eastern expansionists Mithradates VI Eupator of Pontus (r. 12063 BC ) and his ally Tigranes II of Armenia (r. 9555 BC ). As was probably bandied about in the the Roman Senate at the time, amicus meus, inimicus inimici mei (my friend, the enemy of my enemy). Furthermore, during the Third Mithradatic War (7363 BC , the last and longest of the three Mithradatic wars), Phraates III Theos of Parthia (r. 6957 BC ) had allied himself with Rome against Tigranes in return for a promise of certain territories controlled by the Armenian king.

Limestone bas-relief (Lyon, Muse gallo-romain de Fourvire) from Saint-Rmy-de-Provence, ancient Glanum, depicting eight Roman legionaries (a contubernium?) in formation. To Rome, Parthia was always a special problem, at times quiescent, at times a threat, at times a challenge, but Roman armies never really learnt how to cope successfully with desert conditions, where the legions lacked the essential speed and mobility. (Rama/Wikimedia Commons/CC-BY-SA-2.0)

Originally the two consuls had been military commanders and generally absent from Rome. As a result of the Sullan reforms (8180 BC ), however, by Crassus day it had become normal for the consuls to remain in the metropolis for their year of office (except in emergency), departing at the end of it each to his own province (traditionally chosen by lot), which he would govern for a further year. As well as the consulship, Crassus was to receive a proconsular governorship, Syria being allotted to him for a period of five years under the provisions of the lex Trebonia. It was a province he coveted (Cic. Pis. 88, Att. 4.9). Overriding any previous senatorial action concerning the assignment of provinces to the consuls of 55 BC , this law also gave them the right to wage war or make peace as they saw fit without any immediate reference to the Senate (Plut. Crass. 13.5, Pomp. 52.3, Dio 39.33.12). Although there had been no specific mention or sanction of a war against Parthia in the lex Trebonia, Crassus spent his year in office openly planning his campaign (Plut. Crass. 16.3).

In a world that is already in retreat, there are no winners in this story. All the major players were to meet violent ends sooner or later. Ill-prepared and overconfident, Crassus was to lead Rome to a humiliating defeat in northern Mesopotamia, well outside Roman territory, and lose his own life into the bargain. There are of course historians that like to imagine history pivoting on the palms of heroic individuals. At this particular moment in history, on the other hand, it is possible to see Crassus more as a tragic figure than as a heroic one, a man who is about to sacrifice his honour for political narcissism. For Crassus the ruin of Parthia had no moral fallout, and the only thing that mattered was a crushing victory and the prize of laus et gloria, praise and glory, which came with it.

Parthian stucco relief (Tabriz, Azerbaijan Museum) of a foot warrior, Zahhak castle, Hashtrud, Eastern Azerbaijan, Iran. When thinking of the Parthians we hardly envisage them as proceeding on foot. Yet, Parthian foot warriors certainly existed. Iranian gravediggers preparing a deep grave to entomb a victim of Covid-19 in the village of Pachi Miyaneh, Mzandarn Province, accidentally unearthed the skeletal remains of a Parthian foot warrior. As well as an earthenware vessel, the associated finds included an iron dagger, a quiver and arrows, a possible shield and part of what appears to be a sword. (Fabienkhan/Wikimedia Commons/CC-BY-SA-2.5)

But the sun was not rising for Crassus, it was going down. Still, he desperately felt the need to gain world-renowned military glory and political primacy to balance that of his two triumvirate rivals, Cnaeus Pompeius Magnus and Caius Iulius Caesar. Crassus clearly saw himself as their equal and wanted others to make this association. But he seriously risked slipping back into the shadows of Pompey (then at his zenith) and Caesar (still rising) and suffering in obscurity with scant popular acclaim. Crassus understood that subduing the Parthians would give him the glory and prestige he sought. It did not happen, and treachery and tragedy ensued.

Before the summer of 53 BC few people living in the Roman world would have heard of Carrhae (Harrn, Turkey). As for the Parthians themselves, they were a most peaceful people, according to Cicero (Dom. 23 60). Besides, to the man in the streets at Rome, the effect of the parting shot from behind against soldiers on foot remained to be demonstrated by the peaceful Parthians. Yet, for the Romans this out-of-the-way caravan town of northern Mesopotamia was soon to have a depressing resonance, Carhas Crassi clade nobile (HN 5.21 86), in the stark words of the elder Pliny. The battle of Carrhae, however, cannot well be described without a sketch of the leading events in the life of the chief character concerned in it, from the time he was fleeing for his life up to the period of the battle.

Marcus Licinius Crassus (cos. I 70 BC , cos. II 55 BC ) was not trusted or liked, but his complex web of dealings and debtors made him vulnerable to change, and caution and craftiness were his natural aim. Yet the quest for power, in spite of his advancing years, meant that Crassus was loath to play second fiddle to Pompey (an outsider-insider) and Caesar (an egotistic Marian) in achievement and reputation. Even with their marked differences in temperament, all three shared an insatiable appetite for power, and all three would fall ill to the terminal sickness of power: hubris. The political shifts of the late Republic made their outsized careers; they also would kill them.

No two men could have been more unlike in character, but providence was to always hurl them together, first as young soldiers, then later as consuls in the same year, lastly as members of the triumvirate when they would share the consulship again. Three decades earlier, like Pompey, Crassus had joined the patrician Lucius Cornelius Sulla (cos. 88 BC ) during his second march on Rome at the head of his loyal legions. At the time, the capital was under the military control of the partisans of the