The eighth attested ruler of the Achaemenid Dynasty, Xerxes I took the throne at the age of thirty-five and wasted no time living up to his warlike reputation, first crushing a revolt in Egypt, then in Babylon, where he declared the Babylonian Empire abolished and promptly spirited away the golden idol of Bel-Marduk and had it melted down, effectively crushing the empire’s spiritual foundations.
Two years later Xerxes turned his wrath on the Athenians, who had fallen afoul of the Achaemenid Dynasty at the Battle of Marathon, where they’d thwarted King Darius I’s attempt to conquer all of Greece.
In 483 B.C. Xerxes began preparations for the invasion of Greece in dramatic fashion by creating a bridge to span the Hellespont, then by digging a navigable canal across the Athos Isthmus.
From Sardis, Xerxes and his army bulldozed north through Thrace and Macedonia before being stalled at Thermopylae by King Leonidas and his Spartans, who despite a valiant effort were killed to a man. Now unhindered, Xerxes continued south down the coast to Athens, where he plundered the abandoned city. This would prove to be the zenith of Xerxes’ invasion; shortly thereafter he lost much of his fleet at the Battle of Salamis, then most of his land force at the Battles of Plataea and Mycale in 479 B.C.
Leaving the army in the hands of one of his generals, Mardonius, Xerxes retired to Persepolis, in modern-day Iran, where he spent the remainder of his days dealing with political turmoil. He was eventually murdered by the captain of his guard, possibly at the behest of his own son, Artaxerxes I, who took the Achaemenid throne in 464 B.C.
“Oh, what a tangled web,” Remi said as she finished. Sam, ten seconds behind her, looked up and replied, “Not a nice guy, Mr. Xerxes.”
Remi smiled. “Are any of them?”
“Not often. Well, if we’re looking to Xerxes’ biography for clues about what Bondaruk’s after, the first thing that strikes me is the Bel-Marduk idol from Babylon, but history says it was melted down.”
“What if the history is wrong? What if he melted down a copy, made off with the original, then lost it somewhere?”
“Could be.” Sam typed up a quick e-mail to Selma and sent it off. He got a “Checking on it” e-mail a few minutes later. “Okay, other possibilities?”
“It seems everything went downhill for Xerxes after his invasion of Greece. He surrendered control of the army, went home, loitered about for a few years, then was assassinated. Maybe he lost something on the campaign that in his own mind cursed his reign.”
“And Bondaruk thinks recovering it will somehow balance the scales,” Sam finished. “Put things right for the Xerxes line.”
“As you said, the safe money is on Bel-Marduk, but history treats the Babylonian uprising as nothing more than an annoyance for Xerxes.”
“How about the Egyptian revolt? It was roughly the same time.”
Remi sighed. “It’s possible. The problem with history—especially ancient history—is that often only the highlights get the attention. For all we know, buried in an ancient text in some library or museum vault there’s a list of treasures stolen by Xerxes, along with their disposition.”
“Great,” Sam said with a smile. “Where do we start?”
“Take your pick: Cairo, Luxor, Istanbul, Tehran. . . . If we start digging today we’ll be done in ten or twelve years.”
“Not the best course, then. Okay, let’s see if we can narrow things down: Xerxes ruled for twenty years. In that time he embarked on three major campaigns: Egypt, Babylon, and Greece. Of the three, Greece was the most important and, arguably, a turning point for his reign. Why don’t we focus on the Greco-Persian war and see where that takes us?”
Remi considered this, then nodded. “Sounds good.”
Sam’s e-mail chimed and he read it. “From Selma,” he explained. “The history around the melting down of Bel-Marduk is pretty firm. Plenty of su
pposedly firsthand accounts of the event, from both the Persians and the Babylonians.”
“That settles it, then,” Remi replied. “Greece it is.”
They spent another hour researching the Greco-Persian War period of Xerxes’ reign, then took a break, dining in the restaurant balcony overlooking the now darkened harbor. The combination of the altitude, the breathtaking scenery, and travel fatigue had left them famished. They tucked into the Bavarian fare with gusto, enjoying a meal of kalte Braten, cold thinly cut roasted pork with bread and horseradish; Kartoffelsalat, a potato salad in a vinegary marinade; and salmon trout fillets simmered in Kristallweissbier and enhanced with a Franconian Bacchus wine served in the traditional flattened bottle known as a Bocksbeutel. Finally they washed down the meal with mugs of ice-cold Weizenbier. Their below-room-temperature choice drew curious stares from a pair of Schönau townsfolk sitting at a nearby table, but Sam’s one-word explanation—“Americans”—drew smiling nods and a free round.
Satiated and slightly tipsy, they returned to their room, ordered a pot of coffee, and got back to work.
“The point of the whole campaign seemed to be the sacking of Athens,” Remi said. “It was the seat of Greek power.”
“Thrace and Macedonia were just warm-up acts,” Sam agreed. “He saved up most of his wrath for Athens. So, let’s make another assumption: Xerxes subjugated the Babylonians by stealing and destroying the Bel-Marduk idol. Wouldn’t he be inclined to do the same thing with the Greeks?”
Remi was already scanning Selma’s report. “I thought I saw something. . . . Yes, here: Delphi.”
“As in the Oracle at Delphi?”
“That’s the one. Xerxes had his sights set on it.”
Located a hundred miles northwest of Athens on the slopes of Mount Parnassus, the sanctuary of Delphi, dedicated to the God Apollo, was a complex of temples that included the Corycian Cave, the Castalian Spring, the Altar of the Chians, the Stoa of the Athenians, and the Temple of Apollo, where the Oracle resided, as well as numerous treasuries, stadiums, and theaters.