In The Secret Testament, the historical strategos Euthasthios Daphnomeles plays a vital role in the plot. I have chosen to portray him as an atholoulos of the Varangian Guard though there was no actual evidence he ever held this position.
In 1018, the Eastern Roman Empire had brought down Bulgaria. the Bulgarian Tzar Ivan Vladislav was dead, either in battle or by his own hand (or some said, at the hands of a mysterious assassin, maybe even the ghost of Jovan Vladimir whom he had had beheaded). All of the Bulgarian nobles had capitulated to Basil II, save one, Ibatzes who had holed up on Mount Tormor in present-day Albania. Ibatzes held his position in the mountains for fifty-five days before Daphnomeles came up with a devious plan to bring him out. He hiked up to Ibatzes’ fortress Vrohot with two associates, in this case, my fictional Varangians, Ulf and Þórgil.
Daphnomeles was a noted general and distinguished himself in the Bulgarian wars. The fact that Basil did not tolerate unauthorized acts of valor and preferred instead obedience in his commanders, is interesting to note that Eustathios Daphnomles apparently took matters into his own hands in the matter of Ibatzes. Perhaps in the light of his fabulous success in this incident, Basil was willing to over look it. Or perhaps Daphnomles cleared it with the emperor first. It was certainly a bold move and in the hands of a less capable strategist, it might have ended far differently.
The expedition to take out Ibatzes occurred in August during the Eastern Orthodox festival of the Dormition of Virgin, which was the observation of when the Virgin Mary was taken up to heaven. This occurred around August 15, which incidentally, was also the time of a pagan festival at Mount Tormor (named for a giant, Baba Toromor) that went back long before Christianity and observed the Albanian chthonic earth goddess E Bukura e Dheut.
Ulf looked around him. The people were all carrying small beeswax candles, cupped in their hands to shelter then from the wind. The women carried branches of myrtle and some of them carried wicker cages with white doves. They stood aside on the path to make way for a commotion in the procession. A young girl of perhaps sixteen had been set astride a great he-goat that was being coaxed up the path by two young women. The goat had a rope around its horns and was not going willingly. As they passed Ulf and Þórgil, the girl watched them with large gray eyes. The color of her eyes reminded Ulf of Sophia. She had been Thracian and been born in this part of the world. He felt Þórgil’s hand on his shoulder. “We’ll have to hurry to catch up with Daphnomeles.”
“If not the Dormition, what festival is this?”
“Bukura e dheut. The golden-haired earth goddess fought over by the two giants.”
“The people here are not Christian then.”
“The people here still worship Father Tomorr,” Þórgil replied. “Very few Christian churches here. Those doves will be sacrificed at the top of the mountain. That girl will likely have her first man there, in the guise of Baba Tomorr.”
“How is it you know so much about these people?”
“Þórgil grinned. “The girl I told you about. The one who stuttered? She was from here. When she was younger, it was she who rose astride the goat to the top of the mountain. They do it every year.”
As they approached the opened gates of Vrohot, Daphnomeles muttered. “I had not thought that it would be this easy.” They continued on through the gates. By this time, the people, particularly the women, had ceased their loud, exuberant chatter and had become a great deal more somber. Ulf felt uneasy entering Vrohot without his sword. Even wearing no mail or weapons, he and his companions looked every bit the soldiers. He wondered that they did not stand out prominently in the throng of worshipers, most of whom were women. Some of them had begun to weep openly, dragging their hands through their hair, wailing and slapping their own faces. Ulf stepped over myrtle branches as all around him, the women appeared to be frantic with grief. It reminded him uncomfortably of a story someone had told him of the Greek Maenads of long ago who in their frenzy fell upon unsuspecting men who had the misfortune to happen upon their festivals. They were torn limb from limb, his source informed him gravely. Yet the few men who accompanied these women did not seem afraid of being in their company. Once they passed through the gates of the citadel, the worshipers made their way down a side street. There was a building at the end of it. Ulf assumed that this was their temple, but when Daphomeles swung left to join them, Ulf realized that this had to be the palace of Ibatzes. The doors stood open. The revelers went in and Daphnomeles, Þórgil and Ulf followed.
The Secret Testament by G.S. Brown
Daphnomeles lured Ibatzes into a false sense of security and allowed him to think that Daphnomeles was choosing to act of his own accord independent of the emperor and possibly even turning on him. However, bringing him away from his men, his two associates leaped on him, bound and blinded him.
They had moved a little farther away through the trees and Ulf could not hear Ibatzes’ reply. Per their instructions, they waited in place. Waited for the signal. Then they heard Daphnomeles’ shout from the trees. He had not gone far. Probably only far enough for Ibatzes to let down his guard. The akolouthos had Ibatzes on the ground, a knee set firmly between the unfortunate man’s shoulder blades. He struggled to reach the jeweled knife in in the scabbard in his boot. If it had been at his belt, he might have been successful. He cried aloud for his guards. It was to be hoped they were out of earshot of the palace. Ulf and Þórgil helped to restrain him. Þórgil tore a piece of cloth from Ibatzes linen tunic and stuffed it in his mouth, nearly getting his fingers bitten in the process. Ibatzes was trussed like a pig for the spit. Eustathios staggered to his feet, breathing hard. “You took long enough. You know what to do.”
The Secret Testament by G.S. Brown
The blinded Ibatzes was dragged before his people where he formally surrendered and was brought down the mountain. In this way, the last Bulgarian rebel was subdued and Basil II held complete sway over Bulgaria.
Daphnomeles successful venture earned him great rewards and the governance of the themata of Dyrrhachium. Too bad he could not have left it at that. Little over a decade later, he would try his hand at rebellion himself and was accused of conspiring with other governors in the attempted overthrow of Emperor Romano III Argyros. Their punishment was to be beaten and paraded in shame on the Mese (the main avenue in Constantinople) where they were banished and never heard from again.