The Battle of Marathon: Wandering Through History
- Ben Parker
- 10 hours ago
- 10 min read
In 490 BCE, the Persian Empire, the largest in the world at that time, sent between 400 and 600 triremes to land on the beachhead on the coast of Marathon, a mostly flat coastal plain in the region of Attica. The reason was simple enough: expansion. The Persians, under the control of Darius I, sought to stretch their dominance of Asia further into Europe, specifically to subjugate the powerful and unpredictable opponents that Ancient Greece had become. However, after the Ionians, with Athenian aid, revolted against Persian rule in 498 BCE and burned the regional capital, Sardis, another motive for the invasion emerged.
Fast forward to 490 BCE, and between 20,000 and 25,000 Persian soldiers stepped down onto Greek soil and set up camp. The area where the Persians are believed to have landed, sheltered by the tail of the Marathon coast, is the modern Schinias national park, now half engulfed by a pine forest. The reason behind this landing place is not only the nature of the landscape, but the influence of Hippias, a former Tyrant of Athens who was exiled and fled to Persia, becoming an advisor of Darius I. From the plain of Marathon, the Persians could establish their cavalry and attack Athens on foot, or use the vast fleet to attack the Athenian ports.
In order to imagine what such a vast fleet might have looked like on the Marathon coast, I had to see the landing site for myself, even if there was nothing to mark the historical significance of the sand. I rented a bike from my hotel, set off without wearing sun cream (that I would not recommend), and took off alone, beginning along the beachfront of Marathon and making my way further inland to another site I will tell you about shortly. But as I finally reached Schinias beach and stared out from the sands, now covered with beach towels and umbrellas, I pictured the sense of dread that would have come from standing right there in September of 490 BCE, to see the horizon littered with ships.
But as the Persians made their preparations, so did the Athenians. After receiving word of Persian intent, the Athenians sent an envoy to Sparta, a runner by the name of Pheidippides. While some accounts depict this runner making the 27-mile trip to Athens, announcing victory and dropping dead from exhaustion, Herodotus instead tells of a far greater feat: running 150 miles in less than two days to Sparta. Yet despite his immense efforts, the Spartan religious calendar forbade them from sending aid to the Athenians for at least 9 to 10 days, by which time the battle would already be over.
These dual accounts are a great example of how the Ancient Greeks mythologised their own history. Nevertheless, as I journeyed around the area on a small minibus tour, following the blue Marathon line etched on the roads all the way from Marathon stadium to the Panathenaic Stadium in Athens, you can't help but fall in love with the exaggerated versions of the story. Imagining a warrior, tired after a day's fighting, finding the strength to make the long journey and utter those famous last words: "Nenikēkamen", meaning "We have won!"
Yet in reality, while news was making its way back from Sparta, victory was not as certain as it seems today. The Athenians, without Spartan aid, marched from the city under the leadership of Miltiades, a military tactician whose former exile and submission to the Persian Empire, whilst he was the ruler of Thracian Chersonese, made it a challenge to convince the council that he should lead the defence. But eventually, he succeeded.
Yet as the Athenians marched towards Marathon, sheltering in the mountains before the plain in a temporary encampment near the Sanctuary of Heracles, they knew they were outnumbered. The varying accounts put the Athenian numbers between 9,000 and 10,000 hoplites, with 600 to 1,000 men sent from the small city of Plataea in aid. But unlike the Persians, whose soldiers had no other profession, many of the Greek hoplites were made up of farmers, bakers, and everything in between.
As I first arrived at the tumulus car park, I jumped down from the bus and ran in the opposite direction from the entrance. I know that sounds odd, yet I knew that waiting behind an overgrown pathway at the far edge of the car park was a glorious bronze statue of Miltiades, perched up a large marble block. This was my third full day in Greece, having seen the Parthenon the day before, yet seeing this statue was the first time I felt goosebumps. There is just something about it: the sense of composure, the command reflected in the raised palm, the confidence and patience to wait until the right moment. It was that sense of awe, as well as the site itself, that made me visit a total of three times during my trip.
After about a week camped out in the mountains, the Athenians approached first, and in the centre of the plain of Marathon, the battle commenced. Despite the overwhelming Persian numbers, the tactics of Miltiades to thin the phalanx so that the Persians numbers could not outflank them worked. Soon, the Persians began to retreat, many making it back to the ships, many getting lost, drowning, or being cut down in the marshland that surrounded the plain.
A lot of the wetland that proved such a plight to the Persians is gone today. Yet as I stood at what remains of the wetland in Brexiza in Nea Makri, I imagined the impact it must have had on the Persian soldiers. They believed they were guaranteed victory, then swiftly lost, fled, only to find that the flat plain they had marathoned to be was, in fact, littered with dangerous swampland.
While the surviving Persians moved their ships on towards Athens, the Athenians returned to the city quickly enough to win another victory. Herodotus, the ancient writer and geographer commonly addressed as the "father of history", recorded that 6,400 Persians were killed in the battle, while only 192 Athenians and 11 Plataeans lost their lives.
The ashes of the 192 Athenians now reside in a large, 12-metre-high mound in the centre of the plain of Marathon. As I first walked into the grounds, past more olive trees and wild flowerbeds than I could ever possibly account for, and saw the tumulus with my own eyes, I had one overwhelming thought. It wasn't of the size of the mound, though it was indeed much larger than I had anticipated from photographs. My thought was that where I stood was once a place of death, but as I looked around the grounds, seeing the beautiful purple flowers, the trees preparing to bear fruit, all I could see was life.
For my first visit to Tumulus, we had arranged a private trip around the different sites in Marathon. The minibus driver would drive us to a location, give us between 30 minutes and an hour, and come back to get us to move on to the next location. It was a great way to see multiple sites in one day, yet it can also make each visit feel a little rushed.
During the visit, there was also a large group of soldiers doing a tour of the site in full uniform, as well as a class on a school trip. While I thoroughly enjoyed my first visit and loved seeing so many people learning about what happened here, I knew I would need to come back to take it all in. A site like this needs patience. The surroundings are glorious, with a clear view of the mountains behind, but there aren't a great number of different things to see. This is a place where you should sit, think, and ponder how different the world might be if the Athenians and Plataeans hadn't defied the odds that day.
My second visit was an unexpected one. I had decided to go for a walk from the hotel along the beachfront, with no real direction in mind. But as I glanced at the maps app on my phone, I realised I had drawn level with the tumulus site, so I decided to head inland. As it was past 6pm, the site was closed, but you can still see the statue of Miltiades and get a great view of the tumulus from behind the fence.
While such a walk might sound like a natural thing to do on a holiday, for me, venturing off alone in a country and landscape I had no familiarity with beyond my obsession with its history and culture, was a big deal. For whatever reason, this trip pushed me out of my comfort zone, and I couldn't be more grateful for that. To see the site in the early evening with no one else around created this stillness around the landscape, and I could truly ponder the weight of its history.
During my final visit to the Tumulus of the Athenians, I rented a bike for the second time during my trip and came early in the afternoon on my own. This time, on the second-to-last day of my trip, I walked slowly around the grounds, took a seat to ponder the meaning of this place, and what it meant to the city of Athens in the days, months, and years following the battle. And as I stood by the statue of Miltiades for the final time, I wondered what he would make of the world today, not as a political criticism or social commentary. But I would love to ask him whether all he did, and all that came next, was still worth it.
In 489 BCE, Miltiades led a fleet to attack the Greek islands sympathetic to the Persian cause. The siege failed, as islands such as Paros fought back, and Miltiades suffered a severe wound to his leg. He was arrested as a traitor, imprisoned, and soon after died from gangrene due to an untreated wound. Such a tragic, inglorious end for the man who, a year prior, had led them to such a victory.
Yet in all the mentions of battle and the lasting significance of Athens, it's easy to omit the bravery of the small Plataean band. The 11 fallen were not buried with their Athenian comrades, but preserved in a smaller one, so that Plataea and Athens could honour their dead individually. The Platean tumulus now resides in the grounds of the Marathon Archaeological Museum.
The pathway was overgrown when I visited, yet there was something fitting about it. Long golden grass, with poppies woven in between, scattered all around the last resting place of the brave Plataean soldiers. And in some ways, I felt more of the weight surrounding the battle than at other sites. To see the small mound and its significance, captures better than anything else, the true underdog nature of this story.
But these earthen monuments are not alone in memoralising the battle. Some years after the victory, between 470 and 460 BCE, a large marble column was constructed as a trophy forever marking the victory. The remaining two cylindrical blocks and the Ionic-style capital, now resides in the Marathon Archaeological Museum.
Yet we do not have to try too hard to imagine how the trophy would have looked in its day. For today, in the original place where the column was discovered, stands a large replica constructed of the same Pentelic marble, perched beside the small Christian chapel of Panagia Mesosporitissa.
Before my journey to Schinias beach and the Persian landing site, this was my destination. The column stands not as close to the Athenian Tumulus as you might expect, and it led me on a bike ride down winding roads, past endless lines of olive trees. I get lost on numerous occasions. But when I finally looked through the trees and saw the top of the column sticking out towards the clouds, I felt genuinely proud of myself. As I mentioned earlier, wandering off alone with no sense of direction couldn't be more foreign to me. But there was something about this trip, and perhaps the importance of these sites and what they mean to me, that allowed me to do things I never thought I could. My bike ride that day totalled around 12 miles, starting from Nea Makri, heading towards the victory column, down to Schinias beach, and back along the shore.
The pathway to the column was a challenge to reach, considering I was ill-prepared in shorts and got stung by a peculiar-looking nettle, which research tells me is called a Roman nettle, found in both Greece and Italy. But as I stood alongside the column, getting the true sense of its scale, I felt such an achievement. While I didn't run 26.2 miles into the city or 150 miles to Sparta, I felt that my own solo adventures during the trip had captured something of the essence surrounding the history and mythology of the Battle of Marathon.
The sites surrounding the Battle of Marathon were the most emotional for me during my visit, and I knew they would be. The significance of these places cannot be overstated, and I would tell anyone to visit if they ever get the chance.
My next post will cover more of the artefacts I saw in the Marathon Archaeological Museum, and the history that spans much wider than a single battle.
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