The tactic proved effective enough that later commanders trained elephants alongside swine to blunt their fear, a weakness noted by Roman and Byzantine authors from the wars against Pyrrhus to the defense of Edessa centuries later.

The idea of “war pigs,” especially flaming ones, owes much of its fame to the Alexander Romance, the medieval collection of legends that shaped how later generations imagined Alexander the Great. While often exaggerated, these stories are simply too vivid to ignore.
Historically, pigs played a crucial logistical role in Alexander’s campaigns. In preparation for the invasion of Asia in 334 BC, an estimated 70,000 black pigs were slaughtered, salted in the marshes of Cape Atherída near Pydna, and loaded onto triremes to provision an army of roughly 50,000 men.
Legend pushes pigs from supply lines to the battlefield itself. According to the Alexander Romance, Alexander learned from King Porus of India that war elephants were terrified by the high-pitched squealing of pigs. Some tales claim he exploited this fear to panic enemy elephants, causing chaos among opposing troops. While Alexander’s direct use of this tactic remains uncertain, later history confirms the idea: in 266 BC, during the siege of Megara, pigs were reportedly set ablaze and driven toward elephants to rout them, a strategy well known in Hellenistic and Roman warfare.
Beyond legend and war, archaeology reveals a more intimate bond between people and pigs. A pig stele from 2nd–3rd century CE Edessa commemorates an animal that traveled from the Adriatic to Macedonia to take part in a Dionysian festival, only to meet an untimely end beneath a wagon. The humorous yet affectionate inscription reminds us that pigs were familiar, valued, and even loved. From battlefield myths to cured meat and grave monuments, pigs occupied a surprisingly central place in the ancient Macedonian world.



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