Dorylaeum

Listen first. A low wind moves across the grass of the mound, and somewhere below, the traffic of modern Eskişehir hums like a distant river. Under your feet the ground is not quite natural. It is soft, uneven, and slightly raised. This rise in the land is made of people: their floors, their hearths, their broken pots, layered one on top of another for thousands of years. Welcome to Dorylaeum, the ancient city that came before the city you can see around you.

Locals call this place Şarhöyük. A höyük is the Turkish word for a settlement mound, the kind of hill that forms when generations build on the ruins of the generations before them. Each new house rose on the rubble of an older one. Over time, the hill grew. Today it looks modest, even plain. But archaeologists treat mounds like this one as an archive in soil, read from the top down, one layer at a time.

Here is the first surprise. The name of the modern city tells the same story. Eskişehir means, quite simply, old city in Turkish. When Turkish communities settled in this valley in the Middle Ages, the ruins of Dorylaeum were already ancient. The new town grew up nearby, and it carried the memory of the old one in its very name. So every time someone says Eskişehir, they are pointing back to this hill.

The story begins long before Rome. This region was part of Phrygia, the land of an ancient Anatolian people. Greek writers later remembered the Phrygians through legends, such as the tale of King Midas and his golden touch. Excavations on this mound have found traces of Phrygian life here. The soil holds pottery, building remains and everyday objects from that early chapter. Much of what we know about the site comes from those careful seasons of digging.

Why did people choose this spot, again and again? Look at the landscape. The valley is wide and well watered, with the Porsuk River running nearby. The land around it is good for farming and grazing. Just as important, routes across central Anatolia met here. A traveller moving between the Aegean coast and the high plateau would pass through this region. A settlement on this rise could watch the roads, trade with passing caravans, and defend itself.

After Alexander the Great, Greek culture spread across Anatolia, and Dorylaeum became a Hellenistic town. Later it came under Roman rule. Under Rome, the city's position on the road network mattered even more. Roman roads were the arteries of the empire. They carried soldiers, officials, merchants and letters. Dorylaeum stood at a junction of these routes, so it was a place people passed through, rested in, and remembered.

The second surprise is that this valley has always been known for its warm water. Eskişehir is still famous across Türkiye for its thermal springs and bath houses. Natural hot water rises from the ground in this area. It is easy to imagine travellers in the Roman period arriving dusty from the road and looking for a hot bath. Today the city's old thermal quarter continues that habit in a modern form.

In the Byzantine centuries, after the Roman Empire divided, Dorylaeum became a military base. Byzantine armies gathered here before campaigns to the east. Soldiers camped on the plain, horses grazed by the river, and supplies flowed in along the old roads. For the people of the town, this meant protection, but also the constant presence of war. The city became a frontier place, between the Byzantine heartland and the rising powers of the east.

Then comes the moment that put Dorylaeum into the history books of Europe. In 1097, during the First Crusade, the crusader armies marched across Anatolia toward Jerusalem. Near Dorylaeum they met the Seljuk Turks, led by Sultan Kilij Arslan the First. The battle was hard and chaotic. The Seljuk horse archers surrounded part of the crusader force. But the second crusader column arrived in time, and the Seljuks withdrew. The crusaders continued their long march south and east.

Fifty years later, the name appeared again. In 1147, during the Second Crusade, the German army of King Conrad the Third moved into this region. This time the outcome was reversed. Near Dorylaeum, the Seljuks defeated the crusaders, and the survivors turned back. So this quiet valley saw two very different crusading stories. One was a hard-won victory, the other a painful retreat. Few visitors standing here today realise how many armies once crossed this plain.

The Byzantine emperor Manuel the First Komnenos later tried to hold the frontier here, and he rebuilt the town's defences in the 1170s. But the balance of power was changing. Over time, the region passed to the Seljuks, and later to the Ottomans. The old city on the mound faded. Its stones were reused, its streets were buried, and the new Turkish town of Eskişehir grew beside it.

Today, Dorylaeum is not a site of tall columns or grand theatres. What you see is quieter: the shape of the mound, the edges of excavation trenches, perhaps fragments of walls or foundations exposed by the diggers. The real treasures are often small. Pottery, coins, and household objects tell how ordinary people cooked, traded and prayed. Many finds from the region are kept in the city's archaeology museum, where they can be seen up close.

Before you leave, stand still for a moment and look out from the rise. Notice how the modern city spreads across the valley, with its apartment blocks, tram lines and green trees along the river. That is the newest layer of a very old story. The same valley, the same water, the same roads, still drawing people here. As you walk back down, feel the gentle slope under your feet... and remember that this hill took thousands of years to grow.