Bishapur

Listen first. Below the ruins, the Shapur River runs over stones on its way out of the mountains. The air carries dust, dry grass, and sometimes the smell of nearby orchards. Under your feet, the ground is a mix of packed earth and cut stone blocks, some still squared, some worn round by centuries of weather. Around you, the Zagros foothills rise in folded ridges. This quiet valley was once a royal city. Its name, Bishapur, means something close to the beautiful city of Shapur.

The Shapur in that name was Shapur the First. He was the second king of the Sasanian dynasty. The Sasanians were a Persian royal house that ruled a large empire from the third century to the seventh century. They rivalled Rome for power across the Near East. Shapur was a soldier king, and his reign was full of war on the western frontier. Bishapur grew out of those wars. In many ways, this city was built as a statement of victory, carved in stone and laid out in streets.

The most famous of those victories came in the year 260. Near the city of Edessa, in what is now southeastern Turkey, Shapur's army captured the Roman emperor Valerian. No Roman emperor had ever been taken prisoner by a foreign enemy before. It was a deep shock to the Roman world. For Shapur, it was the high point of his reign. Here at Bishapur, and at other sites across this region, he made sure that the moment would never be forgotten.

Here is something many visitors do not expect. Tradition holds that Roman prisoners of war helped to build this city. Thousands of captured soldiers were resettled inside the Sasanian empire, and many had skills as engineers and craftsmen. Historians debate how much of Bishapur came from their hands. Still, the influence of the Roman world is clear in the art here. The style of the floor mosaics found in the palace, for example, looks closer to Roman work than to older Persian traditions.

Notice also the shape of the city itself. Bishapur was laid out on a regular grid, with straight streets that cross at right angles. This kind of planning is often linked to Greek and Roman cities. Older Persian royal cities, such as nearby Firuzabad, were round instead. So Bishapur sits at a crossroads of ideas. A Persian king built a city to celebrate his defeat of Rome, and he built it partly in the Roman way. That irony is part of the charm of this place.

Among the ruins, look for a deep, square structure built of large, carefully fitted stone blocks. It sits partly below ground level. Water channels once brought river water into it. Many scholars believe this was a temple linked to Anahita, the ancient Persian goddess of water and fertility. Others suggest it was connected to fire worship or another rite. What is certain is the quality of the stonework. The blocks were once held together with metal clamps, and some of the slots for those clamps are still visible.

Nearby are the remains of the palace complex. Archaeologists excavated this area in the twentieth century, first in a French expedition during the 1930s and later in Iranian excavations. They found halls with niches in the walls, traces of stucco decoration, and remarkable floor mosaics. The mosaics show elegant women, musicians, courtiers, and faces framed by decorative borders. Some of these panels are now in the Louvre in Paris. Others are in the National Museum of Iran in Tehran. You are standing where they were first laid.

In the city area, two tall stone columns stand side by side. They are among the most photographed features of Bishapur. A Middle Persian inscription is linked to this monument. It records that the columns honoured Shapur and were set up by a local official. Middle Persian was the language of the Sasanian court, written in a script very different from modern Persian. Take a moment here. These two pillars have stood through earthquakes, invasions, and the slow collapse of the city around them.

Now walk toward the gorge where the river leaves the mountains. This narrow valley is called Tang-e Chogan. On its rock walls, Sasanian artists carved large reliefs into the living stone. Several of them show Shapur on horseback, receiving the submission of Roman emperors. One figure kneels before the king. Another stands as Shapur holds him by the hand or wrist. Most scholars identify these figures with Valerian and with other emperors Shapur defeated or forced into peace, such as Philip the Arab.

Look closely at the scale and the detail. Horses, armour, flowing ribbons, and rows of soldiers fill the rock faces. Some panels are damaged. In places, a water channel cut across a relief long after it was made, and the stone below has worn away. Other reliefs in the gorge date from later Sasanian kings, who added their own scenes to their ancestor's gallery. Morning and late afternoon light tends to bring out the carved shapes best, as shadows fall into the lines.

There is one more surprise in these mountains. A few kilometres away, high on a cliff, a cave holds a colossal statue of Shapur the First. The figure was carved from a natural rock pillar inside the cave. It stands several times the height of a person. At some point it fell and broke, and it was later raised again. Reaching it requires a steep climb, so it suits fit walkers with good shoes, water, and plenty of time. Ask locally about the path before you set out.

Bishapur did not stay a royal city forever. After the Sasanian empire fell to Arab armies in the seventh century, the city continued for a while, then slowly declined. Nearby Kazerun grew in importance instead. Over time, the walls and houses of Bishapur sank back into the earth. Today it is part of a group of Sasanian sites in Fars province that UNESCO listed as a World Heritage Site in 2018. Excavation and study here are still not complete.

Before you leave, stand still for a moment and look back across the site. The river still runs where Shapur's engineers led it. The grid of streets is faint, but the eye can still find straight lines among the stones. Above you, the carved king still rides along the cliff, as he has for about seventeen centuries. Listen once more to the water. Then, as you walk away, notice how quiet the valley has become... and how much it still remembers.