Burebista

I rose to rule among the Geto-Dacians around 82 BC. Many tribes spoke in many councils; I made them answer to one. Deceneus, my high priest, taught law, augury, and restraint; together we bound oaths and sharpened customs. Strabo says I had the vines torn from our hills. Hear the meaning if not the measure: I forbade softness. Sobriety and order made men steady at the line and faithful in judgment.

I struck west and north, breaking the Boii and Taurisci and quieting the middle Danube. I pressed south into Thrace and Illyria. On the western Pontus, the Greek poleis learned my weight; the decree at Dionysopolis names my man Akornion, who carried my words. By sword and envoy I compelled obedience and reshaped the bargains of road and sea.

While Rome tore itself, I favored Pompey. Caesar looked north and made designs to come; he fell before he marched. In that same year—44 BC—my own men cut me down, and the kingdom I had gathered split into lesser hands. You ask for my seat? Your scholars still quarrel over names—Argedava or Argidava—because our traces are scant in your books. Let us then speak plainly of what remains: unity won, enemies beaten, and the price of both.