089: Antigonid Macedon - Legion and Phalanx

Hi there, you're listening to The Hellenistic Age Podcast. Episode 89, Antigonid Macedon, Legion and Phalax. According to the Roman historian Livy, Philip V of Macedon held a funeral for many of his cavalrymen that were slain in the battle with Roman legionaries. It was supposed to act as a morale booster for the army, fostering a sense of camaraderie by using the sacrifice of these brave men as an example. Much to his misfortune, he appears not to have seen the bodies prior to this act, for the grisly sight caused shock and horror among even the most hardened professionals in his ranks. The Macedonians had, in their frequent clashes with the Greeks and Illyrians, seen the wounds produced by spears, arrows, and, on rare occasions, by lances. But now they saw bodies dismembered by the Spanish sword, arms lopped off complete with shoulder, heads separated from bodies with the neck sliced right through, intestines laid bare, and other repulsive wounds, and there was widespread consternation as they began to comprehend the nature of the weapons and the kind of men they had to face. The Second Macedonian War, fought only five years after the conclusion of the previous one, was to be the first large-scale conflict between the kings of the Hellenistic East and the Roman Republic since Pyrrhus' invasion of Italy nearly a century before. Rome's decision to pursue the war was born out of a mixture of pragmatism and fear, for they were now firm that, rather than have another Greek army on Italian soil, they would bring the fires of war to Macedonia. During the debate between the Senate and the Comitia Conturiata on whether to pursue war, three Roman legates were sent to Greece in late 201 to investigate the charges laid out against Philip by the Greek delegates. They made landfall in Athens, whose territory was being ravaged by the king's troops in response to their execution of two Akarnanians, Philip's allies who bitterly protested the actions of the Athenians. At the same time, King Attalus of Pergamon rushed to Athens in order to meet with the Roman delegates and confirm a future alliance, should the war actually break out. The citizens of Athens took this royal visit as a sign of the Pergamon ruler's devotion to the Athenian cause and threw a huge celebration, offering various honors and even naming one of the tribes after him, much to Attalus' embarrassment. In response, he crafted a public statement advising a united front against the treachery of Philip and to fight the good fight. As per the Committee's original intention, they also met with the Antigonid commander in Attica, demanding that Philip cease his hostilities against the Greeks, lest he incur the Senate's wrath. From there they departed Athens, making visits to Epirus, Aetolia, Athamania, Chia, and eventually Rhodes in pursuit of possible allies. Where was Philip? Since his escape from the blockade of Bargelia, the king oversaw the earliest attacks against the Athenian countryside before turning his attention back to the Hellespont. He captured multiple settlements to try and disrupt the grain shipments being sent to Athens from the Black Sea, including some Ptolemaic holdings in Thrace, but was stalled at the city of Abydos. Here he was locked up in a protracted siege, its defenders fighting tooth and nail to try and resist the Macedonian barrage. By the spring of 200, the peoples of Abydos were completely exhausted and decided to arrange for terms with Philip. At about the same time, the delegate Marcus Aemilius Lepidus was tasked by the Comitia Conturiata, who by now had voted for war, to deliver the final ultimatum to the king. Sailing from Rhodes to Abydos, Lepidus was given an audience with Philip and presented the Republic's demands. If peace was what he sought, then he should not make war against the Greeks, keep his hands off the possessions of Ptolemy V, and also pay reparations for his aggression and damage inflicted against Pergamon and Rhodes. If he refused, then he would have to deal with Rome's undivided attention. Philip correctly pointed out that Attalus and the Rhodians had technically attacked him first, and there was nothing he did to violate the Peace of Phoenice, but the Roman ambassador would have none of it, impetuously asking if the Athenians or Abadines had been the aggressors too. The king shot right back, warning Lepidus that while Rome's reputation may have enabled such an arrogant response, the name of Macedonia also gave plenty of courage to Philip as well. With this final rejection, Lepidus returned to Rhodes. He and his fellow delegates made a final visit to Antiochus III and Ptolemy V to renew their friendship with the Republic and sailed back to Italy to deliver the news to the Senate. Philip, meanwhile, contented himself with plundering the spoils of Abydos, but, in a gruesome act of defiance, the populace took matters into their own hands by committing mass suicide rather than being enslaved, which disturbed even Philip as he gave them three days' respite to complete their grisly task. Such was the bloody opening to the Second Macedonian War. Consul Publius Supetius Galba had already been given the responsibility for dealing with Macedonia by that point, and crossed the Adriatic with his army in the autumn of 200, camping near Apollonia and Dyrrhachium for the upcoming winter. Twenty ships separated under the leadership of Claudius Kento to set up in the Athenian Piraeus and drive off Philip's wayward troops, but the opportunity to attack Chalkis, one of the fetters of Greece, was revealed to the Roman commander. There, they were able to destroy most of the city, depriving Philip of a key strategic area and grain depot at little cost to themselves. The king was in the nearby Thessalian city of Demetrius when he heard the bad news, and sped out with 5,000 light infantry and 1,300 cavalry to try and catch the Romans as they looted Chalkis, but missed them. He turned to Athens in revenge, at first trying to storm the city by surprise, but when he came upon the actively defended walls of the Dipylon gate, he settled on devastating the outskirts of the city, destroying tombs, plundering sanctuaries, and even torturing the Academy of Plato. A failed attempt on Eleusis soon followed afterwards, and while Philip had to depart for Corinth, his commanders remained behind to ravage Attica once again, before rejoining the king in Boeotia to retire for the winter. The winter season was quiet for both sides, but the Romans were able to gather allies. King Amenander of Athamania, King Plerotus of Illyria, and King Bato of the Dardanians, all long-time enemies of the Macedonians, joined the Roman war effort. Less successful was their attempt to convince the Aetolian League to join up in arms once more. A diplomatic meeting at the Pan-Aetolian Conference saw Roman and Macedonian delegates accuse each other of barbarism, but the presiding Aetolian leader, who Livy suggests was bribed, chose inaction rather than picking one side over the other. In comparison, the Athenians fully committed themselves, formally declaring war against Philip in either late 200 or early 199. Demonstrating their willingness to take a more anti-Macedonian stance, and perhaps as revenge for the king's terror tactics, the Athenians voted to publicly retract any honors given to Philip or past Antigonid rulers, destroyed their statues and inscriptions, and vowed to punish anyone looking to maintain good relations with the king. Such displays meant little from a strategic point of view, for it had been centuries since Athens' days as a formidable military power, and Livy sarcastically observed that the Athenians chose to wage war through letters and words, the only weapons that they were still strong in. Philip, in the meanwhile, had been experiencing some difficulties. From the start of the war, the king was on the back foot as the weight of the enemy alliance began to smother him. The Macedonian Royal Army was a highly professional and experienced force, but it struggled to match the sheer scale of Rome's military output. Philip could keep just over 20,000 men on the field at any one time. In comparison, Galba's army consisted of nearly 30,000 troops, and the Republic was capable of fielding more of them should the needs arise now that the war with Carthage was over. It also must be mentioned that a fair number of these legionaries were veterans from Scipio Africanus' African campaigns, and had been kept in active service ever since. Any ally that Rome could draw upon exacerbated the problem further. Though the Aetolians did not openly side with Rome, they did not join up with Macedonia either, and this situation could change at any sign of weakness. Attalus' naval support was keeping his activities restricted to land operations, and the threat of a multi-pronged invasion of Macedonia was always a possibility. Surprisingly, Philip also had trouble convincing the Achaean League to send troops. Following his raids against Athens in late 200, the king needed to visit Corinth to take part in a council meeting of the League. War with Rome seemed far away to the Achaeans, as they were busy monitoring the activities of Nabus of Sparta, the last independent Spartan ruler who propped himself up in the wake of the tyrant Macanidas' death in 207. Philip tried to soothe their concerns about a Spartan invasion of Achaea by offering an army to guard against any wayward attacks, but on the condition that the League first supply him with men to garrison Chalcis in Corinth. This was flatly recognized as an attempt to gain Achaean hostages, and pressured the League into war with Rome, so much so that even the League's strategos Cycliades, a man considered Philip's lackey up to that point, awkwardly but firmly declined. In anticipation for the invasion of his kingdom, Philip went on the defensive. He positioned his navy at Demetrius and divided his land forces between the pass of the Pelagonian Plains and the city of Heraclea. This prevented the armies of Bato and Plaratus from linking up with that of Galba, which marched west through Illyria en route to northern Macedonia. After an initial skirmish between the Roman and Macedonian cavalries scouting the area, Philip relocated his men to a fortified position near the modern Lake Orede. Rather than trying to meet with a numerically superior consular army in open battle, the king pushed for hit-and-run tactics using his riders and light infantry against foraging parties. Initially, the plan worked, as the Romans struggled to keep their men fed after exhausting much of the grain they collected in Illyria. However, Philip got personally involved in an attack on one of these parties, and the skirmish escalated into an all-out brawl when Galba came in with reinforcements to rescue them. The overeager Macedonians got caught up in the fray, and Philip was nearly killed when his horse was wounded and threw him onto the ground. By the time he fled back to his main camp during nightfall, Philip had lost 300 cavalrymen in the skirmish. The rest of the summer was relatively uneventful, though during this time, the Romans and Attalus had been coordinating naval operations along the Aegean Sea, sacking a number of cities and enslaving its inhabitants. With the king having made his exit, Galba spent his time marauding in central Macedonia and capturing a few settlements. Philip sacrificed them to contend with an invasion of Pleurotus and his Dardanians, which were about to escape back to their territory with booty in tow before the king inflicted a major defeat on them. More problematic was the simultaneous attack by the Aetolians, who chose to rekindle their alliance with Rome upon hearing their success against Philip. They and King Appamander's forces invaded Thessaly, but were intercepted in the Europus Valley and sent packing back to Aetolia with only a handful of survivors. At the end of 199, the Romans had returned to Apollonia while Philip retired for Pella for the winter. In the autumn of 199, Galba had been replaced by the new consul, Publius Vilius Tapullus. Unfortunately for Tapullus, his arrival in Greece was immediately met with a mutiny. Nearly 2,000 of his veteran troops who protested their long-time service during the Second Punic War into the war with Macedonia. It was a disappointing way to cap the events for the year. Though they achieved success by capturing settlements and recruiting more allies, the Senate was disappointed at the lack of any serious progress enforcing Philip's submission, and with the troops now in near revolt, a strong leader was needed to sort out the mess. While the consul spent months trying to smooth over the situation, Philip was occupying himself on his next plan of action. No doubt unnerved by the raids by the Aetolians, the king feared that the rolling tide of the Romans would inspire others, namely the Achaean League, to revolt against his rule. His defense against the invasions on multiple fronts was able to keep them at bay for now, but he spent the winter drilling his troops and demanding further support from his allies as a show of fealty. Perhaps the Romans could still be beaten if they continued to send in middling commanders to handle their campaigns. Enter Titus Quinctius Flamininus. Born in roughly 229-228, Flamininus was part of an ancient, if minor, patrician family who began his political career during the Second Punic War by serving under Marcellus as tribune in 208. Yet in time, he would become an instrumental figure in dictating the Republic's policy towards Greece and the rest of the Hellenistic East. This earned him a biography by Plutarch, who paired the Roman general alongside the contemporary Achaean statesman Philip Hoaman. Clearly he was quite capable, for he was granted the position of quaestor in 205 and responsibility for the governance of Tarentum. Shortly after that, he was given the task of settling veterans in the colonies of Narnia and Xhosa. Like Scipio Africanus before him, the chaos of the Second Punic War enabled him to bypass much of the standard cursus honorum that would limit his ascension up the ranks until he was of appropriate age, but his involvement in the consular elections of 199 was a shocking move, and one that inspired protests from his critics. The plebeian tribunes vetoed his attempt to stand for election on account that he skipped the traditional path of praetor and aedile, that to allow a youth into such a position before his time would undermine the very institution. A vote was put up to the people's assembly, and Phlemoninus was overwhelmingly elected consul of 198, now to be given full command of the war against Philip. Phlemoninus' rise to power is quite baffling, and we have surprisingly little information about the man to explain why someone at his age and with his lack of formal experience was given responsibility for the war. One hypothesis points to his familiarity with the Greeks, Phlemoninus' time when the predominantly Greek city of Tarentum may have given him the necessary experience, and we know that he was an open Philhellene, able to speak Greek fluently without the use of a translator. No ancient source suggests that his expertise was behind the election, but rather Phlemoninus' own popularity with the people and alliances with powerful families. His allotment of the Macedonian War was entirely due to luck, chosen by lottery between himself and his co-consul. We must not discount the idea that Phlemoninus was motivated in part by the intense competition for prestige among the Roman aristocracy. One of the key traits of Phlemoninus observed by Plutarch was his ambition and love of honor, which he pursued for good and bad. Fortune may have allowed him to assume control of the war effort, but the chance to win glory by defeating such a well-respected foe like Macedonia would have been deeply appealing to the up-and-coming commander. During Phlemoninus' preparation across the Adriatic, King Philip had taken a fortified post at the gorge of the Aos River, the modern Veosa, setting up artillery pieces along the ramparts and towers. With his tent overlooking the now heavily defended riverbank from a nearby hill, it was a formidable sight to behold, and would protect against any invading force coming from Epirus, which the Romans seemed intent on doing. Tapulus was en route to confront the king, but was met by Phlemoninus and sent back to Italy. For nearly forty days, the general deliberated on his next move as he encamped on the opposite side of the river, but envoys from Epirus were able to negotiate a sit-down between consul and king, who was open to the possibility of ending the war. Apparently, neither leader was willing to cross into enemy territory to actually have an intimate conversation, so they agreed to meet at the narrowest point and loudly relay their arguments from opposite riverbanks. Phlemoninus' list of demands was similar to those presented at Abydos, but insisted that the king should relinquish all the cities of Greece that were under his control. Philip countered by only offering to free the cities that he personally captured, believing that the rest belonged to him by right of ancestral conquest. The consul doubled down on his position, and, perhaps to get a rise out of the king, he named Thessaly first among the territories to give up. Philip was outraged at the proposition. Thessaly had been an integral part of the kingdom since the days of Philip II, and stormed away from the meeting, remarking, What heavier condition could you impose on a defeated enemy, Titus Quinctius? It is clear that the consul had no intention of coming to terms at all, and would accept nothing less than the king's outright surrender. With the negotiations over, attacks between both sides began the following day. The Romans were unable to break through the defenses, but an Epirote shepherd informed Phlemoninus of a secret path that would enable him to outflank the Macedonians. As the encircling force marched over the next two evenings, the consul kept the Antigonid army occupied with skirmishes, leaving the king none the wiser. On the morning of the third day, smoke signals began to rise behind the Macedonian base. Phlemoninus and his troops were already prepared, and both sides shouted in joy as they charged across the gorge. The Macedonians were completely taken unawares by this maneuver, and though they put up a good fight, many were struck down, and the rest fled in panic, Philip included. Over 2,000 Macedonians were killed, and the legionaries were free to plunder the king's camp as he escaped into Thessaly. With the Romans now marching through Epirus unopposed, Philip took drastic measures by initiating a policy of scorched earth in Thessaly. A handful of communities were forcibly taken back to Macedonia, only allowing them to keep whatever they could carry on their backs as their homes were burned and their precious goods seized for army plunder. A brutal decision to make, but apparently one that Philip was not happy with either, as even Livy sympathetically acknowledged that only slavery or death awaited the Thessalians should the settlements be taken. Surprisingly, the Romans were on their best behavior, with the consul making sure that their newly won Epirote allies were not disturbed as they passed through. That changed during the waning summer of 198, as the Romans, Italians, and Athamanians descended upon the Thessalians. As the king correctly predicted, the cities who resisted were met with massacres and sacks, which inspired a number of communities to capitulate out of fear. Naval operations among the Roman, Pergamene, and Rhodian fleets, and conducted by Phlemoninus' brother Lucius, also despoiled several Macedonian fortresses in the Aegean, places like Euboea and Eretria. With this onset of attacks, the king must have felt the noose tightening as he was driven back to the borders of his kingdom. Even worse news came from the south, from the Achaean League. The previous strategos Cyclidas had been ousted, and a man named Aristanus was elected in his place. Aristanus was sympathetic to the Roman cause, and Phlemoninus dispatched envoys to try and sway the rest of the League to their side as well. Representatives from Rome, Pergamon, Rhodes, Athens, and Macedonia met at Sycheion to take part in the meeting regarding the Achaean's next course of action. Once established to protect the independence of the many poleis in the Greek peninsula from the authority of the Macedonian kings, the Achaean League had increasingly found itself in the clutches of the Antigonid dynasty. Philip may have started out as a fair partner in the Symmachii that bound them together, but his two decades on the throne displayed an increasingly autocratic streak, and there was a genuine fear that he would become an even harsher master when the war with Rome was brought to an end. Whether the accusations were true or not, his supposed role in the deaths of Eratosthenes the Elder and Junior, beloved members of the League's history, was considered especially tyrannical. The pro-Roman speaker also pointed out how Philip was struggling to keep his own kingdom together. If the king could barely protect himself, how could he possibly try and protect them from the attacks of Navus, let alone the Romans, once they turned their attentions away from Philip? Polybius excuses their betrayal of the king on the grounds that they would have been destroyed had they not sided with the Republic, but it is clear that the grievances with Macedonia were long simmering. In return for this support, Lamininus dangled a great prize, the Acrocoran. As one of the fetters that enabled the Macedonian kings to control Greece, this fortress was given up to Antigonus III Docen as payment for his aid against Cleomenes of Sparta, yet the arrangement left the Achaeans bitter for decades, a symbol of their subservience to the Macedonians, and the Romans were offering to hand it over once it was captured. Despite this, there were also members who viewed the Romans with suspicion, believing, with reasonable foresight, that they were just trading one master for another. Representatives from Dime, Megalopolis, and Argos left the meeting in disgust when it appeared that the majority was leaning in favor of the Republic, citing the favors done to them by the Antigonids or their despoliation by the legions. At the end of the council, the Achaean League officially abandoned their alliance with Macedonia and took up arms with the Romans, thus bringing them into the war. Once assembled, the Achaean army set out to join Lucius Quinctius as he prepared to besiege Corinth. Though they had hoped for a spectacular victory in order to claim their reward, the Macedonian garrison put up a ferocious defense. Livy claims that there were even Italian deserters from the Second Punic War serving alongside the defenders, who fought tooth and nail lest they be captured and crucified. Evidently, Lucius decided that the fortress wasn't worth the trouble and abandoned operations lest it get out of hand. As the campaigning season drew to a close, the Argives formally renounced their allegiance to the League and joined Philip as well. Clemeninus' first year in office had seen great military and diplomatic success. Yet for all of his hard work, he still had not achieved a complete victory, and the impending arrival of the incoming consuls meant that he was going to have to and thus giving up the glory that would have come along with it. He was able to convince the Senate into granting him a temporary extension of his command as they picked a successor, but an envoy from the king had arrived in his winter camp offering an invitation to Nicaea to discuss a possible end to the war. Philip seemed to be quite aware of Clemeninus' impending replacement, and hoped that this would make the consul more amenable to the possibility of peace. The conference took place over three days, as delegates from all sides participated to state their case. It wasn't as much a sit-down as it was a stand-up, since Philip refused to disembark from his ship to meet Clemeninus and the other representatives face-to-face, citing the importance of his personal safety for the stability of Macedonia. Each state recited their grievances and lists of demands, once again requesting that Philip return territory and provide indemnities on account of his war-making. Philip countered, citing various excuses to reject the notion that he was the principal aggressor on the situation. According to Polybius and Livy, Philip also cracked a number of jokes, such as making a backhanded comment about his speaker's blindness, or sarcastically offering to send gardeners to Attalus as compensation for his plundering of groves and sanctuaries while in Pergamon. Clemeninus was not short of barbs either, for when Philip requested all of the demands be written down, since he was the only one capable of deciding on the matter, the consul shot back that it was only fair since the king had killed all of his capable advisors years ago. With such petty antics between the two leaders, peace seemed unlikely. Yet on the second day, Philip requested a private meeting with Clemeninus on the shore to put forth a new offer. The king acquiesced to many of the demands by Rome's allies, but refused to hand over the fetters, Demetrius, the Acrochoron, and Chalcis, that were integral to his control over the peninsula. Many of the allies were still upset by Philip's refusal to evacuate Greece, but Clemeninus adjourned the discussion and met on the third day. King and consul agreed to a brief armistice of two months, as Philip sent an embassy to the Roman Senate in order to gain their approval. By all accounts, the king was genuine about his mission, and it seemed like Clemeninus was supportive as well, perhaps accepting his role as arbitrator of peace if he was not to be its conquering hero. For all the supposed good feelings with which the conference concluded, peace is not what happened. As Philip sent his diplomats to Italy, Clemeninus dispatched several of his own agents along with those of his allies to beat the Macedonians to their destination. When in Rome, they were given the first audience, putting the king on full blast as they listed every single grievance and malfeasance committed by Philip, emphasizing that the offered terms were only a temporary solution that would invite further warfare. They had demonstrated that Philip was on the verge of defeat, and there was no reason to stop now that they had him on the ropes. The consul scheme absolutely hamstrung the Macedonian diplomats, and they were barely able to get a few words in before being silenced by the senate fathers, who demanded them to answer whether the king was to abandon the fetters. They commented that they were unable to provide any sort of input without Philip's approval, and the meeting was concluded without further incident. Clemeninus' schemes enabled him to receive an official extension of his command, a license to bring the war to an end, not with mere words, but by force of arms. As the winter of 198-197 continued into the spring, both the Romans and Macedonians moved in preparation for a final showdown. Clemeninus journeyed to Thebes to secure the loyalty of the Boeotian League, bringing along with him King Attalus. During his speech to the Boeotian Assembly, Attalus lost his voice, one half of his body seized up, and he suddenly collapsed upon the ground from a stroke. He was carried away from Thebes back to Pergamon, where he died shortly thereafter at the age of 72. Having ruled for nearly 44 years, Attalus was a remarkable individual and deeply admired by later authors like Polybius, who spoke highly of his character and the stability of the kingdom he left behind. Much to Philip's annoyance, the transition of power was a smooth one, and his eldest son Eumenes II soon took the throne, eager to ally himself with the Romans against Macedonia. Despite the grim interruption, Clemeninus was able to gain an alliance with the Boeotians, perhaps encouraged by the 2,000 legionaries he brought along with him. The consul also received reinforcements from the senate, nearly 6,000 infantry and 400 cavalry. With his peace efforts torpedoed by Clemeninus, Philip knew that a final battle awaited him. Yet the war had been taxing on his kingdom's capabilities to maintain his army. Unlike his Syrian and Egyptian counterparts, the Antigonids could not rely on a large population base or near-endless economic resources to support armies of comparable sizes, and any loss was therefore significant. They were some of the best-trained troops in the Mediterranean, but many of his veterans had been killed during the campaigns in Asia Minor and battles against the Romans. Philip had to draft new soldiers to fill his thinned ranks, going so far as to rely on former veterans who had previously aged out of service, or boys as young as 16. He drilled them as best as he could, and inspired them with glorious war stories of past Macedonian victories. It wasn't an ideal situation, but it was the best that he had. Part of this build-up of forces meant that he also needed to withdraw several garrisons from allied cities, one of these being Argos. As I mentioned, Argos had quit the Achaean League and joined up with Philip. To secure its loyalty and win over a new ally at the same time, the king offered it to Nobis of Sparta along with an alliance, citing that Nobis return it if he won the war, and keep it if he lost. It was a bad gamble. Nobis confirmed this arrangement, then promptly turned to Rome, signing off on a separate alliance, and even agreeing to a four-month truce with the Achaean League. Setback aside, Philip's strategy was to try and redirect the Romans into southern Thessaly by guarding the passes into Macedonia near Mount Olympus. In a perfect world, the consul would spend his energies attacking the fortified position at Pharsalus. If they indeed came to battle, then the territory nearby would be on ground better suited for the phalanx's maneuverability. Yet this did not go in the king's way either, as Phlemoninus had made haste after passing through Boeotia and laid siege to Pythianic Thebes. When Philip found out about the siege, he ordered his men to march to nearby Phirae, just stopping north of the settlement. The consul decided to abandon the attack on the garrison, and also drive towards Phirae, actually managing to beat the king to the site despite having a farther journey and shorter time to do so. But the hard march was worth it, as Philip was now unable to access either the city of Demetrius or Pythianic Thebes, and the ground around Phirae was unsuitable for battle. Perhaps it was a bit too unsuitable, since even the legionaries would have had a hard time maintaining their formations among the farmhouse walls and villages that crisscrossed throughout the land. Great minds think alike, and both armies headed west to the city of Skotousa almost simultaneously. The king hoped to seize provisions before the Romans got a hold of it, and Phlemoninus hoped to burn the grain and force the Macedonians into battle. Despite their proximity, neither side exactly knew where the other was located, or how close they really were to each other. Heavy rain, thick fog, and large outcrops made scouting a nightmare. And so, Philip made the faithful decision to camp at a location known as Kynos Kephalae, which translates to Dog's Heads, referring to the large, jagged hills that distinguish the area. As it stood, both armies were of comparable sizes. Phlemoninus is numbered approximately 25,000 to 28,000 strong, with approximately 18,000 to 22,000 Roman and Italian infantrymen, 400 cavalrymen, 6,000 Aetolians, 1,200 Athamanians, and another 800 Cretans and Apollonians. There were even a few war elephants, some captured from the Carthaginians, and others gifted by Masinissa of Numidia. Philip's army was slightly smaller, with 16,000 to 18,000 Phalangites, 2,000 Peltasts, 2,000 Thracians and Illyrians each, 1,500 mercenaries of various backgrounds, and 1,500 Thessalian and Macedonian cavalrymen, a total of approximately 23,500 to 25,500. As I mentioned earlier, many of the soldiers under Philip's command were relatively fresh recruits, or aged men, whereas Phlemoninus had many veterans from the Campaign and Second Punic War. He was going to have to rely on the tried-and-true system of the Pike Phalanx, which had not changed much since the last great engagement at Silesia in 222. If deployed on flat, even terrain, it was almost impossible to break through using conventional tactics, but Kainos Kefalai was not the ideal battleground, for its hilly landscape made unit cohesion difficult to manage. The Roman Manipulus system, on the other hand, divided into the three lines of Hastati, Principes and Triarii, was more adaptable. Each legionary was also generally better equipped, possessing heavier armor and weapons that still allowed them to fight individually in hand-to-hand combat when separated from the group. If somehow an enemy managed to get past the intimidating Sirisai of the Phalanx, a sight described as utterly terrifying to behold on the battlefield, then the Phalangite was almost defenseless. At Kainos Kefalai, history was about to be made. Philip had been forced to make camp by the inclement weather, though he hoped to reach Pharsalus before encountering the Romans. Clearly, he was not expecting to engage in battle anytime soon, and on the dawn of the third day, he dispatched a scouting force to occupy a high ridge. Fog still blanketed the morning air, with men barely able to see their own commanding officers in front of them as they made their way to the crests. While the king sat in his camp, screams and the clattering of weapons soon began to echo from the valley on the other side, for the Macedonians nearly tripped over Roman scouts, their camp situated only a short distance away on lower ground. Once this initial shock passed, the Macedonians were able to drive back the Romans in the skirmish. Soon, a body of Aetolian and Roman reinforcements came crashing into the Antigonid troops, this time pushing them backwards up the hill. The king was taken aback by the outbreak of combat, and with many of his men still out foraging, he sent his cavalry and light infantry to provide additional bodies as he gathered his forces back together. Once again, the Romans were pressed downhill, and with this early success, Philip was encouraged by his officers to draw up his full army and confront the Italian barbarians. Two phalanxes lumbered onto the field, their pikes rattling like the quills of an enormous porcupine as they approached the ridgeline step by step. The king took his traditional position alongside the cavalry on the right wing, and the phalanx on his immediate left was ordered to double up in formation from eight to sixteen men per column. The second phalanx was in command of his officer Nicanor, and trailed behind the first. Peltas and light infantry screened the rightmost phalanx, preparing to make the first encounter. Clemeninus had also assembled the troops in full view of their enemies. Perhaps sensing the fear of going against the seemingly impenetrable mass of spears that crowned the hill, the consul addressed his army, citing their past victories over the Macedonians during the campaign, their recent mastery over the Carthaginians, and the glory of besting the arms once used by the mighty Alexander. With two legions lining the center, the cavalry flanked the wings, and the elephants screened the cavalry on the right side opposite to Nicanor's own incoming phalanx. Clemeninus positioned himself alongside the left half of the Roman army, and ordered them to move up the ascent, the right half remaining where they were. Philip countered by sending forth his peltasts, peppering the lightly armed royalites with javelins, who immediately returned the favor. His right phalanx was fully assembled and ready to march forward, but the one commanded by Nicanor was still getting itself into position. Even so, he ordered the right to lower their spears and attack the Roman left, with each side shouting their battle cries before crashing into one another. The iron heads of the sarissae impaled anyone that they could get in contact with, and the Romans were forced to climb over the dead bodies of their comrades that began to litter the field. With the grass on the hillside damp from the rain and mist, the slickness of the blood made the climb even more treacherous. Yet onwards they pushed, hoping for any chance to break through, but they simply were unable to counter the dense wall of spears that now blocked their path. Philip was ecstatic with the performance of his right wing, which was driving the Roman left back with great success, and so he led his cavalry in a charge down the hill against the Roman and Aetolian horsemen. The consul saw that his left was being cut to pieces, and he realized that victory was not going to be delivered from that position. Yet as he surveyed the battlefield, he noticed that the Macedonian left was disorganized. Many of the troops still had yet to properly form up in rank, and some were standing idly by as the battle raged on. Seizing the opportunity, Phlemoninus scurried over to the right wing and ordered a complete charge. The elephants trampled into the Macedonians, scattering many by this act alone, and the legionaries set themselves upon those that remained. During the melee, the terrified phalangites raised their pikes into the air, a custom of Hellenistic armies to indicate a unit's surrender. Lacking the cultural understanding to recognize, or too caught up in the heat of combat to care, the legionaries took it as an opportunity to butcher the now defenseless troops. The swords of the Romans, perfect for chopping and thrusting, was able to carve apart the phalanx like a roasted bird. Pikemen were disemboweled, their limbs and heads hacked off in an orgy of violence that horrified the Greeks, unused to such levels of carnage. With the Macedonian left completely destroyed, attention was now turned to their right. One of Lamaninus' tribunes had noticed that their allies were still being hard-pressed, but it left Philip's wing gravely exposed. Taking with him twenty mannibles of men, they sped down the hill in a frenzy. The members of the phalanx were horrified to discover themselves under attack from behind. Now trapped between the pincers of the legions, death fell upon many, with the rest throwing down their shields and scattering to the winds. King Philip, despondent over losing what seemed to be his moment of triumph, collected as many survivors as he could and raced off to safety, leaving the battlefield to the Romans. So ended the Battle of Cynoscephalae, and with it any further resistance from King Philip. Approximately 8,000 Macedonians were cut to pieces, another 5,000 were captured, and having already squeezed in as many recruits out of his kingdom as possible, his manpower had completely run dry. They put up a spirited fight and managed to inflict 1,000 Roman casualties, but it was meaningless in the grand scheme of things. From a broader perspective, the engagement was a turning point in Hellenistic warfare. For better and for worse, the pike phalanx had been the dominant force on the battlefield for nearly 200 years. Though it would continue to be used to a significant extent throughout the 2nd century, as we shall see in the upcoming episodes, the pike phalanx was no longer the undisputed military formation of the Mediterranean. The Romans must have felt a great deal of pride over their victory, but there were still to be more contests between Roman and Hellenistic arms over the next few decades. Cynoscephalae became something of a monument attesting to Roman supremacy, or perhaps Philip's personal shame. According to both Livy and Appian, the bodies of the slain Macedonians remained where they fell, their bones lying unburied for another six years before they were interred by another man named Philip of Megalopolis. We aren't told why, considering that it was the duty of the king to do so. Maybe it was too painful for Philip to revisit, or he could have potentially feared retaliation from the senate if he tried to clean up the evidence of his submission. The poet Alcaeus of Mycenae, ever seeking to take the king down by a peg or two, composed an epigram and placed it upon a cross overlooking the field. Tombless, unwept we lie, O you who pass by, Full thirty thousand men on this mound in Thessaly. Never let it be said that Philip was not equally witty, for he composed his own epigram, offering a not-so-veiled threat that was to be attached to the cross in addendum. Leafless, unbarked it stands, O you who pass by, The cross upon the hill, Where Alcaeus shall hang high. With the war brought to an end, the terms of the peace were now able to be dictated by Phlemoninus and the Roman senate. The fate of Greece was now at a crossroads. Will the Romans simply replace Philip as the Greeks' new masters, or will they guarantee their freedom?