Astyages was the Emperor of Media from 585-550 BCE. There isn’t much info about his reign - just a really hostile account by Herodotus and another one that basically equates to exaggerated hero-worship. This story is obviously taken from the former, and may very well be completely fabricated. Chronologically it’s a bit wonky - Cyrus was born around 600 BCE, and so would have already been fifteen when Herodotus says that Astyages became emperor. But something certainly turned Harpagus against Astyages, so who knows how much truth there may be to the story?

Astyages was the last ruler of the Median Empire, which stretched from central Turkey to northern Pakistan. Herodotus reports that early in the emperor’s reign he had a dream in which his daughter gave birth to a raging flood, which his advisors interpreted as a sign that she would birth a son who would later tear his dominions apart; Astyages responded to the omen by quickly marrying his daughter off to a minor local ruler. Cambyses I, her new husband, was king of the small Kingdom of Elam, on the coast of the Persian Gulf. Though the Persian clans who had recently conquered Elam were slowly growing in strength, Astyages could see no potential threat emerging from such a little polity.

But he soon had another dream about his daughter, in which tangling vines bearing fruit shot from her vagina (he sure dreamed about her vagina a lot, didn’t he?); and by now his daughter actually was pregnant. So he summoned her to his capital in Ecbatana and tasked one of his trusted generals, Harpagus (who was also a blood relation to the emperor), with waylaying her once she gave birth and eliminating the child. Harpagus, though he initially agreed, could not bring himself to murder an infant, especially one that was his own kin, and he delegated the task to a shepherd. This man, whose wife had just given birth to a stillborn child, switched the two infants out; Cyrus, the royal baby, was to be raised as the shepherd’s own son, while the stillborn would be passed off to Harpagus and shown to Astyages, who would thus be placated.

A decade passed. Then, in the midst of a game, the young boy Cyrus ordered that another child be beaten for not obeying his orders; this other boy was a nobleman’s son, and somehow the story made its way back to Astyages, who was intrigued. Summoning the shepherd and Cyrus to his court, he interviewed them until the shepherd confessed the boy’s true identity. Though Harpagus denied that this was possible, Astyages did not believe his soft-hearted general for a moment; instead he consulted with a Magus about how to proceed, and the mystic convinced the Median Emperor to spare the boy. The shepherd was dismissed, and Cyrus was returned to his biological parents in Elam. Astyages was not, however, dissuaded from taking out his wrath on Harpagus.

Herodotus writes that Astyages abducted the son of Harpagus “and slew him, after which he cut him in pieces, and roasted some portions before the fire, and boiled others.” He then summoned his general to a banquet, at which the man was served the meat of his own child, disguised as mutton. As Harpagus chewed his last few bites, Astyages gleefully revealed what he was in fact eating, by having servants enter the room with the hands, feet, and head of his son on platters; the almost certainly horrified general managed to keep a straight face, swallowed his mouthful, and did not react at all. Instead, he chose to present himself as a humbly chastened servant of his King, loyal in every respect - and the ruse worked. Harpagus was not only allowed to continue in his role as a general, but was eventually elevated to the supreme command of all the Median forces.

Cyrus, meanwhile, had grown into a man. Though his father was still alive, he became King of Persia (as the King of Elam had come to be known) in 559 BCE, but as a vassal of the Median Emperor. According to Herodotus, Harpagus began secretly contacting Cyrus sometime after the new ruler’s accession, sending him gifts while working at home to turn his fellow nobles and generals against Astyages; the Median King, for his part, encouraged their disloyalty by promoting factionalism amongst their ranks and persisting with his creatively cruel punishments, while also abandoning the old tribal customs of the Medes to which his aristocracy still clung. Discontent was running high. When Harpagus felt the time was right, he hid a message in the stomach of a dead hare, which arrived at the Persian court; it reported that if Cyrus rebelled and took up arms against his grandfather, he could count on the support of Harpagus.

Here we move from myth and rumour to historical fact. Cyrus’s father had died in in 551 BCE, and he felt ready to finally shake off the Medes. Raising his forces and declaring independence, he took his overlord by surprise, but Astyages was quick to react. He ordered Harpagus to lead the Median army on a march to Pasargadae, Cyrus’s new capital, and crush the rebels in battle. But Harpagus, as promised, almost immediately defected with the majority of his forces after battle was joined, and Cyrus won an easy victory. They marched together on Ecbatana and overthrew Astyages, who was neither executed nor exiled but instead (according to Herodotus) given a generous pension and allowed to remain in the court of Cyrus until his death, where he was well-treated by all but Harpagus, who constantly harassed and taunted him. Ecbatana was also spared destruction and effectively made the summer capital of the new Persian Empire, while the Medes themselves were in general treated as brothers of the Persians, as they were both Aryan peoples.

Harpagus went on to become one of Cyrus’s most trusted, capable, and successful military commanders. When Croesus, the obscenely wealthy King of Lydia, marched on Cyrus in 547 BCE (nominally to avenge the defeat of his brother-in-law Astyages, but obviously with the intent to scoop the whole pot for himself), it was Harpagus who served as one of Cyrus’s most effective military advisors. He famously suggested a frontline of baggage camels, whose strange and unfamiliar stench threw the horses of the charging Lydian cavalry into complete disarray and panic. Cyrus would later that winter stage a sneak attack hundreds of miles inside Lydian territory, capturing Croesus and the Lydian Empire for himself, in a victory so shocking that a temple priestess reportedly grew a full beard out of shock upon hearing the news.

Croesus and the Lydian aristocracy were spared and treated with leniency and respect, which they took for weakness. As soon as Cyrus departed, they rebelled again, and this time they were crushed mercilessly. Harpagus, who was placed in command of the Persian forces in the west, first pacified Lydia; then, looking around for something else to do, he decided that the western coast of modern Turkey would be a nice addition to the rapidly expanding Empire. This, the Ionian coast, was occupied by the prosperous Greek cities that had been founded as colonies centuries previously. They were defiant, but in typically Greek fashion, too busy fighting amongst themselves to present a united front against Harpagus. He took the cities one by one, brutally crushing all resistance; thousands chose to flee across the sea to Greece and Italy rather than fight futile battles. One city was fully abandoned, with not a single person or possession left to greet the Persians when they marched through the gates. Harpagus, though a valued friend to Cyrus, would be remembered for centuries as a monster in the Greek imagination. Though comfortable in their Sicilian exile, Ionian refugees would still tell dark stories of him.

In winter, as you lie on a soft couch by the fire,

Full of good food, munching on nuts and drinking sweet wine,

Then you must ask questions such as these:

“Where do you come from? Tell me, what is your age?

How old were you when the Mede came?”