It’s easy to take things for granted, right? If you hear or even say something often enough, you’ll believe it, whether or not you really know what you’re talking about. This isn’t always something nefarious, however, it can simply be a matter of not knowing where certain information comes from and thus not recognizing when it’s stated—or repeated—incorrectly. As I’m sure you can already tell, I have a specific historical fact in mind today, and I suspect very few know the origin story behind it.
In the 4th Century BC, Celtic tribes began expanding into Pannonia, an area that in modern times forms part of Austria, Hungary, Croatia, Slovenia, Bosnia Herzegovina, and Serbia. This landmass bordering the Danube River had been settled by Illyrian tribes further back in time than anyone could recount. Yet within the space of a hundred years two prominent Celtic tribes, the Boii and Volcae, had established control of the area and pushed the northern Illyrians tribes south into lands occupied by their cousins.
This invasion was at times violent, at times peaceful, but by the end of the 3rd Century, both Celts and Illyrians had discovered the benefit of trade, and a comfortable symbiosis appears to have developed. For the Celtic tribesmen, Illyria offered a never-ending supply of ore to feed the metalworking for which Celtic civilization would come to be known. The Illyrians, for their part, favored the finished products—especially high-quality weaponry—produced by their neighbors, and Celtic products were common throughout Illyria.
All the same, the Celts seemed to crave conflict and continued sparring with Illyrian tribes along the Adriatic Coast as well as Thracian tribes farther east. Smart enough to stay off Alexander the Great’s naughty list, as soon as that Macedonian conqueror died, the Celts tested their luck but were pushed back in 298 by King Cassander of Macedon. Still, the Celts made significant gains in Thrace, the Serdi tribe establishing the city of Serdica, which survives as modern-day Sofia in Bulgaria. More to the point, the Celts solidified their position throughout the region in a way that would set up a most audacious military enterprise. An incredible sequence of events was about to take place, one all but lost in the general understanding of ancient history today.
In 280 BC, three Celtic armies launched out of Pannonia like missiles, 85,000 men heading east into Thrace, and south into Illyria and Macedonia. This initial expedition, essentially a reconnaissance in force, left much of the region denuded of fighting men and ended with the death of the young Macedonian King Ptolemy Keraunos. The victorious Celts, for their part, retired to Pannonia with much loot and a sense of superiority over their southern neighbors.
It was at this point, with the tribes reveling in their success, that one of the Celtic leaders, a man named Brennus, convinced the tribes that a combined raid into the heart of Greece itself was now possible. Consequently, in 279 he led an army reportedly over 150,000 strong southward across Illyria, Macedonia, and into the fattest prize of all, Greece. Moving with ease across much of the same ground they’d ravaged the year before, the Celts finally met serious resistance by a coalition of Greek states at none other than the already famous pass of Thermopylae.
As the Persians had found 201 years prior, forcing the narrow pass against armored hoplites was a recipe for losing many men. Yet, like Xerxes, Brennus had the troops to spare, and the Greeks did not, so he peeled off a force and sent it into Aetolia, there to open a second front. As well, it seems Brennus too found a way around the pass using rugged mountain trails and marched his men around the Greek blocking position. Unlike the battle in 480 BC, however, the Greeks didn’t stick around—they already knew how that would play out—and instead evacuated the position by sea.
This left the way open to Brennus who flooded southward toward the most famous of all Greek religious centers, Delphi. There, supposedly suffering the effects of a raging thunderstorm, the Celts were attacked on two sides and forced to withdraw. Brennus, for his part, took his own life, and what was left of his army was annihilated by Thessalians and Malians in revenge for Celtic depredations across Aetolia.
An interesting story, to be sure, but there’s more. It seems a smaller group of Celts hadn’t quite been convinced by Brennus and his grand ambitions and separated from their Pannonian brethren in 281. These Celts, settling along the western coast of the Black Sea in Thrace, were then hired by Nicomedes I, to secure the Bythnian throne against his brother. Once the Bythnian king was safely ensconced, the Celts were allowed to settle a region of the Anatolian highlands that would eventually be named for them.
Causing no end of trouble from that protected vantage point—they still craved action, it seems—Antiochus I of the Seleucid Empire would defeat the rampaging Celts in 275 using war elephants. This experience, it seems, finally convinced the roaming tribesmen to settle down in their patch of hard-won territory. You’ll recall the Romans who eventually engulfed the entire Mediterranean referred to the Celts as “Gauls” … hence some three hundred years later, the Apostle Paul was writing his letter to the Galatians. Yup … same guys!
It’s funny, sometimes, to discover the historical truth behind a people or place we’ve heard about our whole lives. For me, it helps fill in the white spaces in understanding that inevitably form given just how far in the past these people and events actually took place. And doing the kind of research I do for my novels, I’m often astounded by what I find buried in the dusty pages of history. Enough to sometimes make me stop, set the book down, and just let the dominoes of understanding cascade to a new viewpoint on some aspect of history.
As for the Galatians themselves, it’s uncertain exactly what became of them. The general consensus, however, is that they were eventually absorbed by the Greek-speaking peoples of Asia Minor. A fitting irony considering their entire move east was spawned by a desire to acquire that which the Greeks had built. Still, the Celtic expedition into the Balkans left deep wounds across the region and forged a reputation that the Galatians would cash in on for years to come. All told, a significant, and fascinating legacy of conquest and almost unimaginable ambition that took those people from the forests of Eastern Austria to the hills of Central Turkey. Quite the legacy indeed!
M. G. Haynes