The Achaemenids Claims Power in Jerusalem (492 AD – 524 AD)
We’ve not spoken of the Achaemenids in this new era since the Argeads took power a century ago. After the establishment of the new dynasty, the family had spread out across their old empire. There was the rebel Side faction who escaped to Cyprus after their loss in the time of Darius I in the 3rd century. There were also several members who fled to India and took control of the old Indus-Punjab tributary kingdom, Ouarana Indus. Across their old lands, there were many other rulers who sought to claim kinship with the Achaemenids to establish their legitimacy but historians now consider that most of these lineages were fabricated.
Within the empire that Darius II ruled, there was only one existent Achaemenid line still holding some power. A lesser line that traced its lineage to the Banebshen Banbisn Anzaza, who ruled the empire from 189 AD to 205 AD, the Achaemenids of Jerusalem had fled the fall out of the Argead transition and sought shelter in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre within the city. During the civil war, they had been forced to stay constantly on the move within the region to avoid capture or death by the armies of both sides. Achaemenid blood still had value – either to be drained dry or married into depending on which side of the civil war you were on. Their time fighting for survival had seen them develop deep relationships with the good and great of Palestine who yearned for better days and see the family lose many loved ones. By the end of the civil war, the only survivors were two young brothers, Ordanes and Onthotopates, taken care of by their mother, Sisygambis of House Arid.
In the ensuing chaos of the Bagratid War and the independence movement by the southern kingdoms, Sisygambis promoted her children to the local nobility of Judea to let them act as figureheads and champion their independence from Achaemeniyya. The Achaemenid line offered legitimacy and a symbol for many in the region to rally around in their fight for freedom from imperial tyranny. The older brother, Ordanes was already in his 30s and was a capable administrator with a good head for numbers and organisation. He promised the assembled nobility that he would rule justly and ensure that the Houses Xerxid, Javanshiran, Fadlid and Ispahbodan would always have his ear if they acclaimed him King of Jerusalem and that he would defend them against the Jewish threat in Samaria, just across Galilee that the Argeads had failed to address.
So with the breakaway of Jerusalem, Syria and Egypt from the empire, Ordanes Achaemenid sat on the throne of Jerusalem in the new palace, constructed on the grounds of Golgotha and connected to the Church of the Holy Apostle where his grandfather Gobryas had first sought refuge.
Jerusalem in the sixth century was a busy trading and pilgrimage site, acting as a crossroads for Arabian traders from the desert and a key stop along the Babylonian-Egyptian trade route.
The influx of pilgrims spurred trade, art, and a growing distinct cultural identity - Jeruselemian. Within these lands, Persian, Syriac, Nabateans and Jews had been mixing for centuries and had been setting their differences aside to focus on economic gain and trade. Among pilgrims, it became known that they had to stay on their guard against the hawkers and shopkeepers who would haggle them down to the last silver sliver they owned. With the recovery of the Ark of the Covenant from Ethiopia, Jerusalem became the most famous pilgrimage site in Christendom, attracting kings and priests from across the world who desired to lay eyes on this miracle of God.
We have this account of Theodesic the Confessor describing the city in the time of Darius, Ordanes’ son:
“The dust of the long journey coated my skin like a second layer of my worn tunic. But fatigue was a distant memory the moment Jerusalem rose on the horizon – a shimmering mirage against the unforgiving sun. For years, I had dreamt of this moment, of kneeling at the holiest ground in Christendom.
Reaching the city gates was an ordeal. Merchants hawked their wares with a cacophony of calls, while pilgrims like myself jostled for entry. Towers of gleaming white limestone, recently built by King Otaspes himself, loomed overhead. These weren't the crumbling Persian walls I had envisioned, but a testament to the Achaemenid’s unwavering faith. Inside, the city was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds. Monks in simple brown robes hurried past, their faces etched with piety. Merchants, likely from far-off Persia, displayed vibrant silks and exotic spices. The air hummed with a multilingual prayer, a chorus of Aramaic, Greek, and Eranian rising from every corner.
My destination, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, was a magnet for pilgrims. The once-humble structure had been transformed into a breathtaking basilica. Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting rainbows on the polished marble floors. Pilgrims, some weeping openly, knelt before the Ark of the Covenant. The air crackled with an intangible energy, a sense of shared faith and reverence.
As much as the locals tried to hide it, the city was not purely God’s city. Tensions simmered beneath the surface. The Jewish quarter hummed with an undercurrent of resentment. The destruction of their synagogue by the king’s men remained a fresh wound. Soldiers patrolled the streets with an air of unease, constantly on guard against Jewish spies from Samaria. One evening, I found myself at a bustling tavern, sharing a meal with fellow pilgrims. Tales of bandits roaming the desert roads and skirmishes with Arab raiders fueled our conversation. Despite the dangers, a sense of camaraderie bound us. We were all pilgrims, drawn by an invisible thread to this holy city.
As I prepared to leave Jerusalem, a bittersweet feeling settled upon me. The city had exceeded my expectations – a living testament to the sacrifice of Christ. Yet, it was also a place of conflict, a microcosm of the wider world's struggles. Jerusalem had etched itself into my soul, not just as a holy city, but as a tapestry woven with faith, conflict, and the enduring spirit of humanity. A part of me would forever remain amidst the bustling streets and holy sites of the City of God.”
Ordanes the Quarreller (492 AD - 509 AD)
In his initial years, Ordanes focused on securing his power within his new kingdom, developing the loyalty of an army trained by his brother and replacing the administration of the city and the rural provinces with his men. With the pieces in place, the king would begin his wars with the Jews of the East, breaking their kingdom and subsuming them within his domain. He would also turn his attention northwards, capturing the wealthy cities of Beirut, Tripoli and Damascus from the Metilius family of Syria. Within his court, they began to call him the ‘Quarreller’ as he often used slights and disagreements to find cause for war or to reprimand disobedient vassals. To the houses that had sworn loyalty to him, they found that his promises were not worth the breath it had taken to utter them. He reduced their influence in court and curbed their freedoms in administering their own lands. With the taxes of the City of Jerusalem, Ordanes had no issues raising the money to keep his soldiers loyal and well-equipped.
Fortunately for them, Ordanes would be struck down by pneumonia and draw his last breath in 509 AD. By this point, his marriage to a Roman princess (a story deserving it’s own story starting with Ordanes striking up a friendship with her Romano-Germanic Kingly brother on pilgrimage in Jerusalem) had seen two children born, a boy and a girl.
Darius of Jerusalem (509 AD - 524 AD)
Darius was a boy of ten when he took the throne. Given more to philosophy and theology, he sought to ensure that his rule would be a model of Christian kingship. Charity and almsgiving were characteristics of his reign. In his quest to synthesise faith and rulership, he sought to homogenise the practices of his people. This often gave rise to uprisings by those who were oppressed by the new measures and even a few attempted assassinations on the king himself.
In an act of piety, he married a Matrona, a lowborn lady and pilgrim from Hispania, who had caught his eye and presented her as a showcase of God’s blessing on the small and meek – that they could rise far in God’s Kingdom on earth. With each act of piety, he ingratiated himself with the zealots and members of the Church. Jerusalem, already a hotbed of religious fervour, easily gave rise to legends and prophecy. Among these, there were a few focused on the Achaemenid line and how Christianity came to them through the voice of an angel. Darius would encourage the spread of this belief and how it was foretold that the Achaemenids were destined to take Arabia in the name of Christ.
Despite the assassination attempts and plans for war, Darius would meet his end in the most ignominious manner. Thrown from his panicked horse while return from a minor errand in Nablus, the king landed on his head and broke his neck. He survived just long enough to reach Jerusalem to pass his crown and signet ring to his only surviving child, Otaspes, who teared uncomprehendingly at his fallen father and the courtiers around him who were either swearing oaths of loyalty or preparing the body for the funeral to come.
