Poisoner, Lover, Defender: The Horrific Death of Queen Parandzem of Syunik

Parandzem is an Armenian queen whose death ranks among the most tragic and brutal accounts in Armenian historiography. Notably, little is definitively known about her; across written sources, her story has become encrusted with late legends and literary embellishments. This stems from the fact that only a handful of surviving manuscripts mention this young woman at all, and even then, almost exclusively through the lens of the men surrounding her—from her father, husband, and son to the King of Persia. Driven by a desire to preserve the memory of this remarkable figure, we explore who she was, what brought her renown, how she perished, and what followed in her wake.

Parandzem belonged to the influential Armenian princely house of Syuni. Her father was Prince Andovk Syuni, though history failed to preserve even the name of her mother. We know she had a brother, Babik Syuni, and a sister whose name was likewise erased by time—a classic casualty of patriarchy.

We are speaking of the 4th century AD—an era as distant and dark as it is legendary. It was during this period that Armenia, under Tiridates III, proclaimed Christianity as its state religion. Just a few decades later, Parandzem emerged onto the stage of history as a prominent representative of the next generation of the Armenian royal dynasty.

Regarding sources, scholars rely primarily on the ancient works of Faustus of Byzantium and, to a lesser extent, Movses Khorenatsi. The identity and historical existence of Faustus himself remain shrouded in mystery. Consequently, the historical works attributed to him should be approached cautiously as a hybrid of historiography and epic narrative whose empirical accuracy can no longer be verified. Nina Garsoïan, Professor at Columbia University and one of the world’s foremost authorities on early medieval Armenian history, noted that Faustus of Byzantium’s Epic Histories represents less a systematic composition than a compilation of diverse sources linked by their connection to 4th-century Armenian history. Under such circumstances, the intertwining of historical facts with epic motifs is hardly surprising.

Although this was the 4th century—when the nobility had officially embraced Christianity—a shift in faith does not act like a light switch. Anton Evstratov, Ph.D. in History and Associate Professor at the Institute of Oriental Studies at the Russian-Armenian University, confirms that "by the 360s, during the reign of Arshak II and Parandzem, Christianization had only touched Armenian society superficially, even among the aristocracy. Because Christianity was not yet conducted in Armenian, the vast majority of aristocrats could not even read the Bible, and only a tiny fraction could comprehend sermons." In practice, the region was undergoing a transitional period where paganism—a syncretic blend of ancient local cults, Zoroastrian influences, and Greek mythology—remained dominant, particularly among the common people, whose actual Christianization spanned several decades. This was due to two main factors: first, the Armenian script had not yet been created; second, biblical texts were available only in Greek and Syriac, rendering them inaccessible to most nobles, let alone the general populace.

This also explains why the flourish of Christianity occurred only after Mesrop Mashtots invented the Armenian alphabet and translated the Bible, allowing liturgy to be conducted in a comprehensible language and transforming Christian doctrine from an aristocratic privilege into a universal movement.

With this contextual backdrop, let us return to Parandzem.

Her personal life was no less captivating than her political fate. Initially, she was married to Gnel, the nephew of King Arshak II. Meanwhile, Gnel’s cousin, Tirit, also harbored desires for Parandzem. To eliminate his rival in the spirit of courtly intrigue, Tirit slandered his cousin to the king. Arshak II, a volatile ruler, executed his nephew via his servants under the guise of an invitation to a hunt, dispensing with a trial altogether. Thus ended brotherly affection on the day of the Navasard celebration—making Cain and Abel look modest by comparison.

Historian's fun fact: When Parandzem rushed to Catholicos Nerses to plead for Gnel’s life, Nerses sought out Arshak II, only to find the king feigning sleep until an executioner entered the tent and confirmed Gnel’s death.

Following Gnel’s execution, Parandzem became the wife of Arshak II, thereby ascending to the status of queen. Intrigued historians note that Arshak II was already married to Olympia—a curious form of Christian polygamy.

Historians themselves frequently disagree on the chronology of the tyrant-king’s marriages. One theory posits that Arshak II was already married to Olympia when he wed Parandzem; another suggests he married Olympia later. What remains undisputed is that both women shared the king’s bed, and driven by jealousy, Parandzem eliminated her rival by poison. This was no simple feat: Olympia was a Roman noblewoman of considerable intellect and caution who refused unverified food. Parandzem had to scheme meticulously; she enlisted an ungodly priest named Mrdjunik, who poisoned Olympia during Holy Communion—either via venomous wine or the Eucharistic bread—in exchange for the gift of a village. Assassination through the sacrament of Holy Communion at the hands of a priest: quite a "Christian" act, indeed. However, because Faustus recorded the details of this poisoning, we must allow for chronicler drama over strict historical fact and maintain our critical distance.

Parandzem bore Arshak II a son who would become famous as King Pap—after whom a former Amiryan Street was recently renamed.

The narrative reaches its climax when the Persian King of Kings, Shapur II, invited Arshak II for negotiations, subsequently imprisoned him, and launched an invasion of Armenia. Queen Parandzem effectively took command of the resistance against Sasanian Persia, defending the fortress of Artagers alongside her allies for nearly a year. Had it not been for famine and an outbreak of plague, Parandzem might well have held out even longer. Nevertheless, a year of defiance was enough to drive Shapur II’s wounded pride into a violent frenzy.

The enraged Persian monarch chose not to execute Parandzem immediately upon capturing her. His fragile ego demanded her humiliation prior to her death. Shapur brought Parandzem to a public square, subjected her to a public gang rape by anyone who desired her, and subsequently had her impaled. Here, Faustus provides a detailed and dramatic description of Parandzem's execution as a vile, brutal act, whereas Khorenatsi tersely avoids graphic details, mentioning only that she was impaled on wagon shafts.

Interesting note: A myth exists regarding the participation of animals in Parandzem's execution; however, this stems from a mistranslation of Faustus's text, where he utilized the word "beasts" as a metaphor for inhuman cruelty. Yet even without animals, the ordeal was agonizingly merciless. Historians often advise examining such accounts through the lens of an era where extreme violence was relatively normalized. We might push back against this view: accepting primitive cruelty as mere routine risks misinterpreting customs that were harrowing even to contemporaries. Still, the principle of historical contextualization should not be cast aside entirely.

Modern psychological insights make it easy to accept that Parandzem met an excruciatingly violent end that went far beyond mere impalement. Although Arshak II was the sovereign monarch whose public execution would have symbolized victory over Armenia, he died quietly in captivity without public spectacle. This was partly because during a subsequent campaign, "Arshak II’s nakharars [nobles] refused to fight against the Persians, forcing him to seek peace terms"—a key dynamic for Shapur II. Overall, Arshak II was a complex ruler who vacillated constantly between the Romans and the Persians, making it difficult to brand him courageous. Parandzem, by contrast, demonstrated an uncompromising resolve; her prolonged defense of Artagers possessed a far more martial character. Anton Evstratov emphasizes that "the Persians stripped Parandzem of both her personal and royal honor. This is a crucial symbolic moment, as Persia was actively seeking to dismantle the institution of Armenian royalty"—an institution that, ironically, became personified not by the reigning king, but by Parandzem herself.

Furthermore, imprisoning a monarch rather than executing him carried deep symbolic weight. Evstratov notes: "In the Hellenistic tradition, attitudes toward death differed markedly from our own. Consider Nero’s political opponents: when politely advised to open their veins, they complied. The same applies to Mark Antony and Cleopatra: as Roman legions closed in, Cleopatra drank poison and Antony fell on his sword. Similarly, when Roman forces advanced, the family of Tigranes the Great committed mass suicide. These examples reflect a distinctly Hellenistic view of mortality. Thus, Shapur II’s execution of Parandzem was less about mere punishment than a projection of absolute power, control, and a pedagogical lesson to observers. Unlike modern non-public penalties, ancient punishments were inherently public—much like the Romans feeding Christians to lions."

This aristocratic view of death is easily explained: captivity was viewed as a far greater humiliation than dying. Freedom was the primary privilege of the nobility; forfeiting it was considered worse than death. Consequently, conquerors often refrained from executing captive kings immediately, choosing instead to display their triumphant supremacy by stripping an aristocrat of that defining privilege. This logic helps explain why Shapur II chose to incarcerate Arshak II rather than execute him on the spot.

In Parandzem's case, it is vital to acknowledge that she was evaluated not merely as a monarch, but as a woman. Across historical eras, destroying a woman’s agency often yields a far more potent psychological impact than stripping her of freedom, title, or wealth. Sexualized violence serves as an attempt to dishonor a woman, reducing her to an object that can then be destroyed. Where a man's execution is straightforward, a woman's death is frequently inflicted through sexualization and objectification—carrying a distinct symbolic weight, whether intended from the outset or not.

Examining Parandzem's final moments through the lens of modern forensic anthropology, death by impalement occurs slowly due to internal organ failure and hemorrhage. This prolonged agony was the defining feature of the execution: the objective was not swift killing, but the prolonged consumption of the victim's death throes. Combined with mass sexual assault, her suffering likely spanned more than five hours.

Forensic history records the 1800 impalement execution of Suleiman al-Halabi in Cairo. Skeletal analyses confirm he survived for roughly four hours post-impalement—establishing four hours as a baseline duration for this method of execution. Immediate death occurred only after a soldier offered Suleiman water, likely inducing a fatal drop in blood pressure. Researchers estimate that without this intervention, his agony could have persisted for several more hours. Unlike Parandzem, Suleiman was not subjected to sexual violence. Considering scientific evidence indicating that the female body often exhibits a higher physiological tolerance for severe pain than the male body, Parandzem’s ordeal may well have lasted half a day or longer.

The ultimate paradox of Parandzem lies in the fact that her life—both personal and political—contained every element from which history is forged: dynastic marriages, court intrigues, military command, defense, captivity, and vengeance. She was no passive figure in her husband's shadow; during the critical phase of the Persian war, it was Parandzem, not Arshak II, who mounted the actual resistance.

Yet, the primary near-contemporary source regarding her life remains the hostile chronicle of Faustus—written by a chronicler who never met her and who displayed a clear bias against the Syuni dynasty—later echoed by Khorenatsi. The contemporary ecclesiastical apparatus, including Catholicos Nerses (who personally knew both Gnel and Parandzem), possessed the authority and means to document these events. Yet neither Nerses nor any contemporary left an independent account.

As a result, the woman who stood at the helm of the Armenian resistance against Persia is known to us almost exclusively through texts authored by her detractors—rendering not only her execution, but her life and legacy, a historical verdict handed down without a defense.

Regina Melikyan

Footnotes:

1. For further details, see Nina G. Garsoïan, The Armenian People from Ancient to Modern Times (Routledge); Robert W. Thomson, Agathangelos: History of the Armenians (State University of New York Press); James R. Russell, The Armenian People from Ancient to Modern Times; and official publications by the Vatican.

2. Nina G. Garsoïan, The Epic Histories Attributed to P'awstos Buzand, Harvard University Press, 1989.

3. For further details, see Encyclopædia Iranica.

4. Nina G. Garsoïan, The Problematic Marriages of the Armenian King Aršak II: An Iranian Hypothesis.

5. For further details, see History of the Armenians (Faustus of Byzantium / P'awstos Buzand); Robert W. Thomson, The Armenian History Attributed to P'awstos Buzand; Nina G. Garsoïan, The Armenian People from Ancient to Modern Times.

6. P'awstos Buzand, History of the Armenians, translated by Robert W. Thomson, Oxford University Press.

7. Moses Khorenatsi / Movses Khorenatsi, History of the Armenians, translated by Robert W. Thomson, Oxford University Press.

8. P'awstos Buzand, History of the Armenians, translated by Robert W. Thomson, Oxford University Press.

9. Charlier P., et al., "Forensic description of impalement and associated torture lesions by Napoleon troops, Egypt, 1800."