Did Theophano, empress of Romanos II and mother to the young emperors Basil II and Constantine VIII, kill her husband as was popularly believed? The evidence is thin on the ground for the death of her first husband, Romanos and father to her children Basil, Constantine and Anna, yet she seems to be implicated in the death her her second husband Nikeophoros Phokas. When Romanos II died, Theophano was still in childbed, having delivered her baby daughter Anna not four days before. This does not preclude her from having a hand in his death, that is to say ordering an assassin to do so, but it does not seem likely as in that time, a woman’s children were considered orphans if they did not have a father, not counting the status of the mother. Also, with her husband dead, it would put her own status in a very precarious situation. Theophano ( not to be confused with my character Theophana, the fictionalized bastard sister of Basil II), the empress Theophano was said to be very beautiful, but her lowborn status as the daughter of a common innkeeper made her unpopular.
She has less an alibi in the regicide of Nikephoros however. While Theophano was still considered a great beauty, Nikephoros was certainly not. The Bishop Liutprand described him thus:
“…a monstrosity of a man, a pygmy, fat-headed and like a mole as to the smallness of his eyes; disgusting with his short, broad, thick, and half hoary beard; disgraced by a neck an inch long; very bristly through the length and thickness of his hair; in color an Ethiopian; one whom it would not be pleasant to meet in the middle of the night; with extensive belly, lean of loin, very long of hip considering his short stature, small of shank, proportionate as to his heels and feet; clad in a garment costly but too old, and foul-smelling and faded through age; shod with Scythian shoes; bold of tongue, a fox by nature, in perjury, and lying a Ulysses.”
Their marriage was likely a business arrangement, with Nikephoros playing the role of the regent for the young emperors till they should come of age. Who can say what schemes Theophano may have played, or what favors she owed Nikephoros, or for that matter, any of the Phokades? In any case, the marriage was to be celibate as per their agreement. He busied himself on the battlefield and his wife busied herself in the bedroom… with his nephew John Tzmiskes.
On the night of the murder, Theophano left the imperial bedchamber unguarded and unbolted, ostensibly to visit the young Bulgarian princesses who were to be betrothed to her sons. In reality they were hostages, but in those days this was a fine line. The conspirators then came up the stairs and attacked Nikephoros where he lay on a leopard skin (he was a notorious ascetic) and proceeded to attack him. One of these men was Michael Bourtzes, with a personal grudge against Nikephoros. He would later betray Basil as well.
For all Theophano’s scheming, it came to naught. After the murder of her second husband, Tzmiskes completely abandoned her. The patriarch Polyeuktos refused to perform the coronation unless Tzmiskes removed “the scarlet empress.” Power comes before love in the world of Byzantine politics and Tzmiskes had her exiled to Prinkipio one of the Prince Islands in the Sea of Mamara. (The Prince Islands were so called because they were a favorite place to exile disgraced nobility.)
After Theophano’s exile, a play mocking the event took place in the streets of the city. The actress playing the part of Theophano would sing this raunchy little ditty:
The blacksmith strikes his anvil, and he strikes his neighbor’s too
For the matchmaker and the princeling are standing at the door.
Theophano wanted her pie and the beauty ate it.
He who wore the coronation robe now donned a leather hide,
And if wintry weather comes upon him, he will wear his fur coat too
For men with shriveled cock and hand-sized arseholes
parade the murdering adulteress on the saddle of a mule.
The matchmaker appears to be the chamberlain, the princeling, Tzmiskes and the “beauty” reportedly no beauty, but the middle-aged princess Theodora, who got to eat the “pie”, the wealth and power as Tzmiskes’ consort, a position Theophano had reserved for herself. The last two lines take a swipe at the purported sexual proclivities of the patriarch Polyeuktos and the imperial chamberlain Basil Lakapenos, both of whom were eunuchs.
Nothing is known of how this murder affected the young emperors Basil and Constantine. In my third book, the working title of which is The Bone Goddess, I imagine a conversation between the emperor Basil and one of his Varangian Guard, Ulf Svensson who has been set to guard his tent for the night. In this piece, I pull back the veil of how Basil may have viewed the event as the child he would have been when his stepfather was assassinated. I draw upon Leo the Deacon’s description of the assassination:
Ulf turned his face back to the wind, feeling it burn his skin raw. The normally taciturn emperor did not usually speak so much about himself. It made Ulf uncomfortable. He was not one to speak much about himself either. Basil was silent again. When he spoke, it was as if he had delved into some inner corner of himself and forgotten that Ulf was even standing there. “I was scarcely eleven summers old that night. It comes to mind because it was a night much like this one. My mother had gone from the imperial chambers to the gynaikonitis for the evening She had given word that she was going to visit the two Bulgarian princesses. They were more hostages than guests who were to be given in marriage to my brother and I.
“He laughed again. “Perhaps if those marriages had gone through as arranged, we should not be standing here in the snow talking to one another now.” Basil flashed Ulf half a smile at the irony. “My stepfather stayed in his chambers. The light from his candles showed under his door till late in the night. He had not been allowed me to ride with him on a hunt that day. I was angry. I felt I should be treated as a man. It was I who had been born to be emperor. I went to his door several times, to give voice to my indignation, yet turned away again. I remembered the night being so cold, that even under all the blankets, I could not get warm. The snow fell outside as is not often seen in Constantinople. After the vespers hour, I finally approached the door again. I heard my stepfather screaming. He was crying aloud for the protection of the Virgin Theotokos. I pushed open his door. The candles were not at his desk any longer. They had been moved by the bed. My stepfather lay on the floor on a panther skin. He was unrecognizable. His assassins ranged themselves around him. One had kicked in his jaw. He had no teeth. They had been knocked out with the hilt of a sword thrust in his mouth. One eye had been gouged out. They had kicked him numerous times in the groin. John Tzmiskes himself sat on the bed and watched as his accomplices kicked and pummeled my stepfather. I stood there in the door. I could not move. Finally one ran him through.
“I closed the door and tiptoed away. Later, as dawn broke through the winter clouds, they paraded his head in the streets. John was proclaimed emperor. He and his men had killed Nikephoros. But it was my mother who had let them in. Had he guards posted properly at the door, he would never had been murdered. He trusted my mother. I think in his own way he loved her. She did not receive such gracious treatment from the new emperor. He in turn, then betrayed her. As soon as he had been crowned, he had her exiled. She deserved little better. Nikephoros they buried and placed an inscription on his tomb. ‘You conquered all but a woman.’” Basil scoffed and drained the last of his wine, now cold.
Indeed, it may have been his own mother’s supposed licentiousness and her devious desire to gain power that turned Basil against marriage. We have no record of his marriage or of any progeny, unusual for a man who was expected to bring a male heir to the throne of such a powerful realm. Instead he left it up to his brother and (nominally) co-emperor Constantine, who produced only three daughters. Constantine himself, gave little heed to the running of the empire and had more interest in pursuits such as hunting, dancing, partying and a general lavish lifestyle. It was far easier to leave the dull work of war and ruling to big brother.
In the meantime, Basil ruled a golden age of the Eastern Roman Empire, throwing off the dark sordid cloak of his predecessors, unencumbered by marriage or women like his mother.