Category: Military and Warfare

The Varangian Guard

Varangian returning home

In the Varangian Chronicles, a family of Varangian Guardsmen become entangled in some way with the secrets of the Brotherhood of Lampros.

 The Varangian Guard were one of the most elite guard units of history comparable to the Praetorian Guard and the Janissaries.  While Varangians as an ethnic group had long served as mercenaries in the Byzantine military, the Guard itself was established in 988 the year Vladimir of the Rus officially became Emperor Basil’s brother-in-law and sent 5,000 of his finest warriors to Constantinople. To join required at three pounds of gold. Ethnically, the composition was made up of Rus’ (Russians) and Scandinavians. As time went on, however, more and more men from England joined the Guard, as Anglo-Saxons became disenfranchised in their own country in the Norman Conquest of 1066. By the late eleventh century, Anglo-Saxon Guardsmen were common enough that a traveler to Constantinople might hear English spoken there.

In the beginning, a Guardsman’s weapons and equipment were supplied by himself. Often his weapons might include the broad “Dane axe” for which they were famous.  They might also have brought a sword with them. Armor of any kind was likely to be ring mail, but they might also have adopted the lamelar armor common to the Byzantine infantry. The long mail shirt they were known for had a Scandinavian name –  hauberk. The arms and equipment of the Varangian Guard is informational enough to be its own blog post and maybe I will address that at another time. 

The Varangians as a regiment saw their first battle under Basil II at Chrysopolis against Kalyros Delphinas and again at Abydos in which the rebel Bardas Phokas was killed.  The rebels could not have anticipated the fury of the Northmen that Basil had brought upon them, but the reputation of his northern mercenaries quickly became legendary and a force to be reckoned with. Combined with Basil’s use of Greek Fire, Phokas’ own troops were quickly defeated.

Phokas’ dromons could not come so far onto shore, as they had a much deeper draft.
They sat in the water, as shallowly as they dared. Basil’s  dromons were waiting for them. Sven
saw the great siphons on the prow of the lead imperial ship. Phokas’ helmsmen turned the prow on the  dromon. Sven stood on the deck of the longship as his men pulled at the oars, directing
the vessel into the narrow alley of water. The Rus ships with their narrow draft, easily navigated
the shore and jumping out, the men pushed the ships onto the beach. The imperial dromon
continued to bear on Phokas’ warships, daring the shallows. The great brass lion set firmly on the deck had a mouth wide and gaping as if it roared. The siphon extended from its mouth. The naval officer aboard the lead ship called aloud to his men, commanding them to bring the great siphons about. The lion’s heads were lit up in the night from the flames spewing from their
mouths, and the dark of the night was made blindingly bright as the flames snaked over the
water, dancing on the surface in a demonic frenzy.

The Serpentine Key by G.S. Brown

Wherever Basil went, his Varangians went with him and their presence was an indication of his presence on the battlefield.  There were shouts of “The Emperor is on the field!” and even “The Emperor’s wineskins are here!” (One of the names for the Varangians was “wineskins” as they were given to prodigious drinking.) They also had a fondness for the capitol’s brothels and the chariot racing and were known to put down their substantial wages on both. Sven himself was known to frequent the brothels and he was certainly a frequent presence in the tavernas. 

After leaving Ahmed, Sven stopped at a taverna. His thirst for wine had begun to consume
him. Throwing a coin to the taverna keeper, he took his cup of wine to a darkened corner of the
taverna and sat in his usual careless manner, feet propped on a nearby bench. He needed to think. Sipping the wine, he thought about how all he had learned fit together.

The Serpentine Key by G.S. Brown

The Varangians had their own churches as well (after all the Imperial Guardsmen had to show some piety towards  the same God of the emperor whom they served). Likely many of them had been baptized prior to their arrival in Constantinople, yet there were still many who would have clung to their old ways. 

The leader of the Varangians was the Akolouthos who was usually Greek. There was at least one who was Norse, Nambites, but it seems that the Byzantines preferred to leave matters of leadership in the hands of their own men. 

As I mentioned before, there was a substantial fee for joining and a man newly arrived in the empire might serve for a while in the regular imperial army, working to earn the amount necessary for joining the Varangian Guard.  In The Secret Testament Þórsteinn has the gold but not the physical constitution for it after an injury in an encounter with Penchenegs on the Dnieper disqualifies him from joining

Þórsteinn was in a foul mood. He had been in Constantinople for two months now. He
had been slightly overawed by the city. It was nothing like Kiev or Novgorod. Where the Rus’
cities were largely built of the timbers that were plentiful in the forests, Constantinople was
mostly stone. It had taken quite a lot of getting used to. He had recovered his strength since he
had been here, but he still walked with a limp. He had not been successful at concealing it when
he had reported to the Zeuxippos Barracks to announce that he wished to join the Guard. He was skilled at handling weaponry, and he had his three pounds of gold. But the commanding officer there had noticed the limp. It was no good to try to pretend otherwise. He was rejected. His disappointment was profound.

The Secret Testament by G.S. Brown

The Guard’s services were utilized for police duties within the capitol , as well as enforcing revenue collection. This made them quite unpopular with the citizens and the fact that whatever Greek was spoken was tinged with the accent of their northern homeland, that their culture and mannerisms were different, set them apart even in a city that was a cosmopolitan and diverse as Constantinople. To many people, no matter how many Varangian churches were built, the Rus had a tinge of the pagan and barbarian about them.

As time went on the Guard became distinctly less Scandinavian or even Germanic as less and less men from England joined and the reputation that Guard had earned as the Empire’s fiercest fighting forced waned. They were no longer held to the same standards, nor did they have Basil II to lead them, a man so respected by his men he was called “The Father of the Army”. By the time Constantinople fell to the Ottoman Turks in 1453, the Guard was no longer a recognizable entity. Perhaps if the weak and ineffectual Emperor Constantine XI Palaiologos had the advantage of Basil’s bold men sent from Rus and Scandinavia, Constantinople might never have fallen into the hands of Mehmed II.

The Black Sea, Jewel of Eurasia

The modern coast of the Black Sea

Constantinople lay at the  mouth of  Bosporus, leading to the Black Sea, surely one of her secrets to her expansive hold over commerce. Across from the Black Sea lay what is today Ukraine, but at the time was a constantly shifting arrangement of borders between the Varangian Rus, the nomadic Penchnegs and the ever opportunistic Khazars.  The Byzantine empire did business and war with all of them at one point or another.

Between the Black Sea and home, lay the Dnieper River for the Varangian traders that made their way  to and from the empire with their wares, furs, slaves, honey and many other  things. 

In The Serpentine Key, Sven sets sail across this sea on his mission with Vladimir of Kiev in a small, two-man boat. 

This was to be a clandestine operation. No need to leave from the main shipping area on the Sea. The boat was similar to the rigged faerings he was used to from back home, easily manned by two men, especially if one sailed close to shore. The waters themselves were usually calm, even at this time of the year. The Scythians called these waters Axinos – black. The Greeks called it the Euxine Sea.

The Serpentine Key by G.S. Brown

The Black Sea has not the biodiversity of flora and fauna of an area such as the Mediterranean.  However there are at least three species of dolphins living in the Black Sea as well as jellyfish a small type of shark, crabs, mussels and scallops. There is speculation that because of a lower layer of water saturated with hydrogen sulfide and that beneath this is a completely different world fed by an underwater river originating in the Bosporus. 

in 2018 one of the oldest intact shipwrecks ever found was confirmed at the bottom of the Black Sea. The Bronze age relic was dated to 2,400 years old and found at a depth of 2,000 meters.  It has been likened to the ship on a vase depicting Homer’s Odyssey.  The researchers said they would likely find items such as copper (a hot commodity at this time) and amphorae of wine.

At the height of the Byzantine Empire, the Black Sea continued to be an important avenue for trade and chief among these trades were slaves. As Islam did not allow the enslaving of other Muslims and Christianity did not allow the enslaving of other Christians, the prime victims for enslavement were the pagan Slavs. In fact, the name Slav is commonly cited as the origin of the word “slave” so often were these unfortunate people enslaved by both Christians and Muslims. As the Slavic tribes gradually fell under the sway of Christianity, they became less and less fodder for enslavement with the Christian empires, but many Europeans were still being captured and enslaved by Ottoman Turks as late as the nineteenth century. 

Because of the location of the Black Sea, it was not only an avenue to the Dnieper and Rus’ (now modern day Ukraine and Russia) but also a way to the East, especially the Levant. Commerce was alive and well and thriving throughout the time of the Byzantine Empire and it is safe to say that Black Sea more than helped to facilitate this as maritime travel was cheaper and faster than overland. 

Greek Fire being used against the Rus in 941

But just as the Black Sea brought silk and spices to the people of Constantinople it also brought violence.  in 941 the Rus, originally immigrants from Scandinavia,  launched a series of attacks with 1,000 ships (which must have been an incredible sight)  upon Constantinople and were only repelled with the aid of Greek Fire.  Though they were defeated, the Rus led another larger force in 944 and this time the Byzantines elected to settle the difference with trade agreements rather than prolonged warfare. The Rus’ were notorious for the brutality of their warfare, nailing the heads of captives and crucifying others. Clearly, the Byzantines felt they would make better trading partners than enemies and in the decades that followed there was a steady stream of commerce down the Dnieper into the Black Sea and the heart of the Empire. However, except for Varangian Guard, they were specifically forbidden from carrying weapons in the city or having too many of them in the city at one time. The Empire was not ready to go toe to toe with these fierce warriors again soon.  In 988, Vladimir the Great of Kiev became a Christian and the Emperor’ brother-in-law, effectively changing the Nordic/Slav culture north of the Black Sea forever. 

The Bold Akritai of the Eastern Frontiers

A little known backstory for Sven Thorvaldson in The Serpentine Key is that before he served in the Balkans with Basil II, he was a member of the Akritai. There is no evidence to suggest that Norsemen served in the Byzantine border patrol, but since the Norse (in particular the Rus) had served in various mercenary positions within the empire since at least 911 and often were deployed against the Arabs to the Empires’ eastern borders, it is not without the realm of possibility. So the backstory remains as Sven having a been a member of the Akritai.

The Akritai were recruited mainly native Byzantine infantrymen and Armenian soldiers, being comprised of both professional soldiers and irregular units. In short, they were a mixed bunch, not just militarily but also ethnically. Being on the border, they might have been from anywhere and may well have included mercenaries. According to Historical Sociology and  World History by Alexander Anievas and Kamran Matin:  “Akritai were exempt from taxation and entitled to full disposition of booty acquired through border raids…” which would have been a very appealing  and lucrative contract for mercenaries if they were not exempt from signing up with the Akritai. 

Their job was to secure the eastern border, but to also combat brigands, but they were just as likely to be brigands themselves. Their tactics seem to have been guerilla warfare, and involved getting the local populace to fortified strongholds, while harassing and shadowing the enemy, and in this way are reminiscent of American frontier warfare. Of course, if they could line their pockets with the gold of a traveling merchant, particularly if he was a Saracen, well who would notice?

The Akritai were reduced in importance in the latter half of the tenth century (about the time the fictional Sven would have left to to join the war in the Balkans and Basil’s continuing struggle against Tsar Samuil.) However they continued in some form until the latter half the of the thirteenth century. They were recalled by Basil to help him in his Balkan wars when manpower was low. This likely explains the distinctly Armenian vanguard that were responsible for getting Basil out of a tight spot at the ambush at Trajan’s Gate in 986. 

The Akritai are best remembered for the Akritic songs ( literally Ακριτικά τραγούδια “frontiersmen songs) the epic poems that celebrated the life of the guard of the Empire’s easternmost frontiers. Digenes Akritas is the best known of these and this one emerged sometime in the 12th century. The hero of this poem is named Basil, though he is known as Diogenes Akritas (“two-blood border lord”) the son of an Arab father and a Byzantine noblewoman. The original Akritac songs were likely oral and put one in mind of the Frankish Song of Roland, which tells the story of a hero much like Digenes Akritas. The Akritic songs might have even had an influence as far afield as France, as their influence showed up in Arabic and Slavic literature. 

Like the Danish Beowulf, Digenes also came up against a dragon amongst many other heroic exploits. Like Cú Chulainn of Irish myth, he possesses superhuman strength.  Like Cú Chulainn and his Scáthach, he has a love affair with a warrior woman, the Amazon Maximou. Perhaps this only proves how universal the Indo European folk tales really are. 

The Akritic Songs provide far more material than I have time to delve into in the scope of this article, but suffice to say, they provide an intriguing look at life at the time.  It was very popular for centuries and still retains a level of popularity in Greece today. A graphic novel has been made of the exploits of Digenes Akritas. 

In The Red Empress, the courtesan Khatia attempts to read a portion of the Lay of the Emir to a surly Asbjørn, with little success. 

When he only shrugged, she said “Or I can speak to you if you like, so you are not so obliged.” She had plenty of experience with men who had retreated into themselves like a cloak.

When he still didn’t reply, she said, “Shall I read to you?”

“If you like.”

With so little encouragement to go on, she sent one of her girls for a copy of one of the Akritai poems, Lay of the Emir. It was about a great romance of the Akritai border guards. She thought it might amuse and distract him. She searched for a passage most likely to be interesting and when she had, she began to read:

“They hissed like dragons, they roared like lions, they soared like eagles, and the two clashed And then you could see a fight between fine brave youths. In the heat of the battle they struck continuously, and from the great clashing and the cut and thrust the plains grew fearful and the mountains re-echoed, trees were uprooted and the sun was darkened.”

She looked up to see if he was still listening. It was difficult to ascertain.

“Blood flowed down over their horse-trappings and their sweat ran out over their breastplates Constantine’s black horse was speedier, and its rider was a marvelous young man. He charged at the emir and struck him a blow with his stick and then the emir began to tremble and flee. A Saracen addressed the emir –”

“Read instead from the Iliad,” Asbjørn interrupted.

Well that was better. She found she better liked his boorish abruptness to which she was accustomed than this stony silence. Still, she had begun to enjoy reading from the Lay of the Emir.

The Red Empress by G.S. Brown

There are also some elements that remind me of the heroic bogatyr from Slavic myth and perhaps some of the Varangians took these popular tales home to Rus’ with them where they influenced the Slavic folk tales. After all, the Russian bogatyr Dobrynya Nikitich also fought his dragon.

The Many Rebellions of Vidin

In The Secret Testament, Vidin was the home town of Desislava. It was also frequently the source of Bulgarian rebellion and often received the notice of Basil II during his Bulgarian wars. 

It is to Vidin that Desislava returns with her brother Dragan in hopes of finding her other brother Dimitri. They meet someone on the road who informs them of Vidin’s latest rebellion.

“A bad business. Vidin has rebelled again. The emperor and his army are there. There is nothing for you there. There were those that fled there following the siege of Kastoria and they have dissolved into rebellion and incurred the emperor’s wrath.”

Desislava searched Dragan’s face. “It would be like Dimitri to be there.”

“Then you wish to go on to Vidin to find our brother hanged with the other rebels? You hold out for much, Desi.”

The idea left a hard, gnarled knot in her stomach. She had refused to entertain any notion of Dimitri’s demise. It was as if doing so might give it form and substance. 

“We would have been better off staying among the Bogomils!” he snarled at her. Desislava turned her face away, glad that Dragan could not see how the words tore at her. Guilt swarmed inside her. Would it have been better to have left Dragan and gone on her own to pursue her search for Dimitri? And what if it all came to naught? For the first time, she allowed the thought that always lurked in the periphery of her mind to have a place by the hearth. What if he really was dead? Or even, if not dead at Kleidion, about to meet his end with other rebels at Vidin. The tether of her thoughts began to slip, as if she had once given them their head, they must now run away. On what slender filaments she had based her search for Dimitri! They both became silent. They continued on the road, because neither could break the silence to decide what to do. By midday, the air had become humid and sweltering. 

Vidin is still known today for the fortress Baba Vida. Baba Vida is named for a young woman Vida who was given the lands north of the Carpathians, while her tow younger sisters Kula and Gamza  were given Zajecar and the Timok Valley and  the lands west up to the Morava. Her sisters married disreputable men, but Vida remained unmarried and in control of her own lands and buil the fortres in her city of Vidin. The name of the castle means “Granny Vida“ While the story is a Slavic one, the area was originally a Celtic settlement known as Dunoniaand the site of the fortress was probably originally Roman.  It withstood an eight month siege against Basil II with the Bulgaria rebels finally capitulating to him.  Basil is said to have led an incursion against Vidin in 1002, whereupon Basil is supposed to have negotiated a ten year peace deal with Tsar Samuil. Whether this peace deal was violated and not negotiable for renewal or it was merely agreed upon to resume war upon it expiration is something that seems a little murky in the history books.  During this siege, Samuil attempts diversionary tactics against the Byzantine themata of Strymon and Macedonia and sacks Adrianople. However these failed to draw Basil away and Vidin fell to his army.

A conquered city could expect, in eleventh century terms, fairly humanitarian treatment from Basil. It usually meant mass resettlement in a far off place such as Anatolia. He would then resettle the city with a notably Greek population. This resettlement policy was not altogether successful, as evidently Bulgarians moved back into the city or they may have even had a considerable influence upon the Greek population.  Only sixteen years later, firmly under Byzantine rule, the people of Vidin rebelled again under Petar, a man who claimed to be the son of Tsar Gavril Radomir by his Hungarian wife. Whether he was or not was immaterial. The people rallied around him, in Vidin and the rest of Bulgaria. Basil had died and left the control of his vast empire, first to his useless brother and then to his equally ineffective nieces, in particular Zoe, who had extraordinarily bad luck with her husbands.

When the fictional Desislava and her brother Dragan return to Vidin, it is to the city once again being brought low by Basil II, though it is not clear if the current fortress was in service at the time as it was rebuilt during the time of Ivan Stratsimir in the fourteenth century. The records are scanty at this time for Vidin, but it seems the people were once again resettled. Vidin, for all her rebellious audacity had yet again been brought under the heel of the Eastern Roman Empire. A year later, Ivan Vladislav would be dead and the Bulgarian rebellion would come to a grinding halt. 

The Man in the Mountain

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.

Penchenegs and the Dnieper Journey

Þórsteinn strained against the carrying poles, sweat stinging his eyes. The land here was
steep and rocky. He and his companions made their way with their boat, poles placed through the oar holes. It was a small boat and could be transported thus overland. Still, laden down as it was, it was slow going. At their last portage they had paid some Slavs from a nearby village to help them roll it over a road, that could scarcely be called as such. This time, there was no suchnea by town and anyway, it was likely that few would wish to make such a journey. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and took the flask of water that one of them handed him. He was the only one from the northern isles. These other men were experienced and had made this journey every season from Kiev, some from as far as Novgorod.  He glanced up as the flash of sun off metal caught his eyes. Above them, on the steep embankment beyond the river, came a trilling cry. Gamli gasped and ordered the men to lower the boat and reach for weapons. Further, ahead the trees closed around the road. The boat tilted dangerously on its perch by the river. Þórsteinn grabbed his axe where it hung on the boat within easy reach. Horsemen poured over the slopes. The fringed horse equipment and felted caps, scarcely registered with him before his brain in some fevered way recognized them as Pencheneg tribesmen.

The Secret Testament by G.S. Brown

 A trip down the Dnieper was the most common way to traverse the territory from Rus’ to Constantinople. Waterways in general have been favored through the ages, whether the Dnieper or the Ohio river, as people could transport large amounts of goods on them and often roads were bad or even non existent. However, the Dnieper was not without its perils. Most famous of the dangers were the Dnieper Rapids, which in addition to the shallows of the river, made removing the craft and rolling it on the land necessary. There were seven to nine rapids (depending on whom you asked) and the travelers had to make portage which meant they had to bring their boat up on to shore and move it over land. This was done by rolling it over logs, moving the logs from the back to the front, a laborious and tedious endeavor. It was at this juncture that the travelers were most vulnerable. In the centuries in which travel was at its peak on this waterway during the eighth through the first half of the eleventh century, Penchenegs were a common menace to travelers. Pencenegs were nomadic horsemen of Turkic origin. Not much is known about them or their customs, even thought they were mentioned by many people from Anna Komene to Arabic and Polish sources.  They fomented frequent raids against the Rus for over two centuries,  putting Kiev under siege in 968.

 Basil II came to an agreement with them when they threatened to throw their allegiance in with Ivan Vladislav, tsar of Bulgaria with whom Basil was at war. Basil brought in loaded of carts of wealth, and quietly bought them off.  Whether bought off or fought off, the Penchenegs proved to be a thorn in the side of eastern Europe for a long time. They were known for their ferocity. Not a lot comes down to us about their customs, weapons, and mode of dress but I was able to piece a bit together from other nomadic steppe peoples.

Þórsteinn felt the hard impact of his axe blade as it made contact with the leather helm of the first man who came at him. His blow was poorly aimed and a hit that should have cut through helm, bone and brain, merely glanced aside. Knowing he would not have time to bring it back again for another strike at the man’s face where first he had aimed it, he instead thrust his shield boss into his opponent’s jaw, sending a rain of broken teeth and blood up into his face.
Putting his back into the prow of the boat, he waited for the press of men to advance upon him.
The smell of trammeled moss and soil mixed with blood, seemed a strange thing for him to
notice. The next Pencheneg who came at him wore a tunic of stained ox-hide. He carried a spear the shaft of which was decorated with locks of hair of many different colors. He aimed the spear at Þórsteinn’s belly and Þórsteinn parried his thrust with his axe, moving in close to the Pencheneg so his spear would be of little use, but he had not counted on the man dragging a knife from his belt with which he used to slash at Þórsteinn’s face.

The Secret Testament by G.S. Brown

Psellos tells us that the Penchenegs “wear no breastplates, greaves or helmets, and carry no shields or swords. Their only weapon and means of defense is the spear… in one dense mass , encouraged by sheer desperation , they shout their thunderous war cries and hurl themselves pell-mell upon their adversaries…pursuing them and slaying them without mercy.”

He goes on to relate their manner in the nomadic lifestyle to which they are accustomed: “…If there is no water, each man dismounts his horse and opens its veins with a knife and drinks the blood…after that, they cut up the fattest of the horses, set fire to whatever wood they find ready to hand and, having slightly warmed the chopped limbs of the horse there on the spot, they gorge themselves on the meat, blood and all. Their repast over, they hurry back to their primitive huts, where they lurk like snakes in the deep gullies and precipitous cliffs which constitute their home.”

They are frequently referred to as Scythians, but then so are the Nordic Rus in Byzantine sources, proving time and again that most people don’t know much about other people outside of their own experience. 

Furs, honey, slaves, amber, and beeswax were frequent commodities traded down the Dnieper to Constantinople (or Mikklegard as the Varangians called it). In return, they would carry back the luxuries of Constantinople, such as wine, spices, gold, glass and all manner of expensive things. Over time  the Dnieper carried back the faith and icons of Constantinople and Anna Porphyrogenita, the sister of Basil II, sent to be a bride of Vladimir of the Rus. 

In The Secret Testament, Þórsteinn is the sole survivor of such an attack, and only because the boat they were hauling overland slid down the embankment, pinning him underneath.

The Dnieper Rapids was where Svyatoslav met his end. Svyatoslav was a Rus prince and the father of the Grand Prince of Kiev, Vladimir. After the Penchenegs killed Svyatoslav, they made a drinking cup from his skull. As Svyatoslav was a pretty rowdy pagan himself, he might have approved this ending and might have done the same had the roles been reversed. 

Svyatoslav killed by the Penchenegs on the Dnieper

Constantine Monomachus attempted to use the Penchenegs as mercenaries, but they proved to be untrustworthy and were given to fighting amongst themselves. He then was reduced to fighting them himself, only to have to resort to bribery. But by this time, the Penchnegs were aware of the incredible wealth of the empire and would settle for nothing less  than large tracts of land and honorific titles. 

The journey traversed 1,200 miles to the Black Sea. Once they had reached the Black Sea, if the waters were calm enough, the hardest part of the journey was done.  This journey was estimated to take about six weeks. There is some evidence that winter travel was endeavored with sledges drawn by horses wearing crampons to keep their shod feet from slipping on the ice. 

A Giant of His Time – Georgios Maniakes

“I have seen this man myself, and I wondered at him, for nature had bestowed on him all the attributes of a man destined to command. He stood ten feet high and men who saw him had to look up as if at a hill or the summit of a mountain.”

Thus the 11th century historian and writer Michael Psellos described Georgios Maniakes in his Chronorgraphia.  Maniakes was an 11th century Byzantine strategos (general) and catepan of Italy.

It is telling in the work of modern researchers  that they cherry pick which of Psellos’ writing to take seriously and dismiss out of hand his claim that the notorious general stood as tall as Psellos described him. Yet, it was not uncommon to describe gigantic human beings and indeed there are numerous archaeological examples of humans ten feet and taller. Armenian warriors are described elsewhere as ten feet tall.  I am inclined to believe that the Armenian strategos really was this tall.

In any case, he was a giant of his time, as he had a reputation for numerous military accomplishments. It is a shame, that as a brilliant military strategist, he had not the control necessary over himself and his temper as he did over his troops, or he might have been truly great. The element in his army that author and historian John Julius Norwich describes as “heterogeneous” was largely Varangian. Yet this was also an element that as an almost general rule, had a strong independent streak and did not take well to coercion, which as we will see, worked to undermine Maniace’s control in the Mediterranean.  In addition to the Varangian, were the Lombards, led by a man named Arduin and a contingent of Normans led by William de Hauteville. The Normans were largely mercenaries and were hard to control without coin,

Psellos went on to speak of Maniakes: “There was nothing soft or agreeable about the appearance of Maniakes but put one in the mind of a tempest; his voice was like thunder and his hands seemed to be made for tearing down walls or smashing doors of bronze. He could spring like a lion and his frown was terrible. And everything else about him was in proportion. Those who saw him for the first time discovered that every description they had heard of him was an understatement.”

Given this, admittedly rather epically written description of the famous strategos, one can only imagine the effect he had on the emperor’s brother-in-law, Stephen the Caulker. Stephen was a completely unremarkable man who, due to his favorable juxtaposition by marriage and happenstance, found himself appointed to naval commander, a position to which he was in no way suited or qualified.  In short, he was an idiot and was better suited at caulking ships rather than commanding them. Maniakes was not a man to suffer fools gladly, so it was only a matter of time before these two would clash.  As it turns out, Maniakes did not get along with very many of his men and there was an inevitable clash with the Varangian leader Haraldr Hardrada, a man who was not a fool, but did not get on well with the bullying Maniakes. He certainly made enough of an impression on Haraldr, for Maniakes was mentioned in the Norse sagas where he was known as Gyrgir.

He did manage to get a nice fortress named after him. Castle Maniakes in Sicily.

The campaign in question was Sicily and the enemy was the Saracens who had long held the island.  Maniakes and his men took Messina and Rometta almost, it seems, without trying. The problem began at Syracuse. The Byzantines had won much booty from the Saracens, gold, jewels, precious fabric military equipment and horses. Given that the Varangians had a long standing agreement as part of their service, that they would receive a lion’s share of the booty. It is only reasonable to assume that there were stipulations made for booty on the part of the other commanders, such as, in this case Arduin the Lombard. For his part, he chose a magnificent Arab stallion.  It was a shame that Maniakes also had his eye on the same stallion. He demanded that Arduin relinquish it. Arduin refused. He was soon relieved of the horse anyway and stripped and beaten for his audacity. This humiliation seated within Arduin a deep and abiding hatred that would eventually lead him to switch sides and rebel against the Byzantines. As for the other troops, the Normans led by William de Hauteville and the Varangians looked upon this treatment of their fellow Germanic warrior and turned and walked out. The Normans would go on to revolt against the Byzantines and continue the Sicilian campaign independently and solely for their own gains. The Varangians returned to Constantinople. Maniakes was left with a reduced army with a depleted morale.

Once again Maniakes’ overbearing ego and his enormous temper, got him into trouble. However the real conflict between Stephen and Maniakes did not truly come to a head until the Battle of Dranginai, which according to all accounts, was a win for the Byzantines. They used special metal cases on their horses feet to protect them from the devastating caltrops that the Saracens had left to cripple and disable them. With the unexpected development, that they faced a cavalry charge that they thought they had completely incapacitated, the Saracens were left surprised and bewildered.

In addition, a dust storm rose up on the plain and left them blinded and disoriented. In the midst of all this, Stephen the caulker had one job and one only. As the naval commander, he was supposed to guard the cost with his fleet and prevent the escape of Wallah Abdullah, the Saracen commander. There is no record on what exactly happened here. Was Stephen sleeping? Was there a fog that enabled Abdullah to escape? Whatever happened, the Saracen commander slipped through the Byzantine network of ships sitting off the coast. The result was a furious Maniakes when he discovered what he supposed was Stephen’s brash ineptitude. When he confronted Stephen, reportedly with the handle of a whip. And while he is said to have beaten him, he must have, for all his size, used a modicum of restraint, as Stephen was able to escape alive and send word to the emperor, his brother-in-law. The result was that Maniakes was recalled to Constantinople. He was not given a chance to defend himself and found himself in prison, where he languished until the throne again received a new imperial behind in the person of Michael V.  The command of the Sicily expedition went by default to Stephen, a most unwise choice, as the campaign deteriorated under his inexpert leadership. Two years later Michael V released Maniakes from prison and he was sent back to Sicily which is found in a shambles, much of what he had won for the empire had been lost once again to the Saracens. Perhaps his name would have been remembered with more fondness had he been able to restrain his ego and his ambition. Yet the very things that had made him great were also his downfall.

A Medieval Fairy Tale Romance…Reimagined

A medieval religious icon depicting Jovan Vladimir (with second head) Image Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

In my third book The Bone Goddess, Jovan Vladimir, a real-life Serbian prince is a significant character, while his wife Theodora Kosara is even more prominent and is a viewpoint character. The story of Jovan and Theodora is a very interesting one, even if you strip away the veneer of romanticism that inevitably becomes attached to such tales.

Jovan was a medieval Serbian prince who, after his death, was later recognized as a martyr and a saint. He was married to a woman who was alleged to be the daughter of Samuil, tsar of Bulgaria, though some attest her to being related to Samuil though not as his daughter. Jovan was on good terms with the Byzantine empire and largely neutral in the conflict between the empire and the Bulgarians.  The city of Dyrrachium (Now Durrës, Albania) was a strategic one in this conflict and directly to the south of it lay Jovan’s lands of Duklja. It was instrumental for Samuil, therefore, to take Duklja and he attacked in 1009, with the intention of preventing him from joining Basil. With an intention of neutrality, it is not k own if that was Jovan’s plan, though there is a record in the charter of the Great Lavra Monastery of a Serbian diplomatic mission to Constantinople in 992. Jovan retreated with his people up into the mountains. Many of his nobles defected to Samuil and the young Serbain, prince refusing surrender to Samuil, was captured and thrown into prison. The story might have ended there and the young man could very well have rotted in prison and died in obscurity, were it not for Samuil’s daughter, Theodora Kosara, who with her ladies went down to her father’s dungeons to wash the feet of the prisoners. The Chronicle of the Priest of Duklja recounts it thus:

It came to pass that Samuel’s daughter, Cossara, was animated and inspired by a beatific soul. She approached her father and begged that she might go down with her maids and wash the head and feet of the chained captives. Her father granted her wish, so she descended and carried out her good work. Noticing Vladimir among the prisoners, she was struck by his handsome appearance, his humility, gentleness and modesty, and the fact that he was full of wisdom and knowledge of the Lord. She stopped to talk to him, and to her his speech seemed sweeter than honey and the honeycomb.

  She and Jovan fell in love and she begged her father to be allowed to marry him.  Her father, seemingly magnanimously, agreed. On closer inspection, however, his motives may not have been as altruistic as at first glance. By giving his daughter to Jovan and as a wedding gift (or perhaps a dowry) ceding Jovan’s lands and castle back to him, he effectively now controlled the young Serbian. It was a decisive political arrangement on Samuil’s part. The young lovers settled in comfortable in Skadarska Krajina and had some children. All might have gone on very comfortably in this happily-ever-after fairy tale but for one scheming spider: Ivan Vladislav. Ivan was Samuil’s nephew and Theodora’s cousin. By 1015 he had ascended the throne himself, through a combination of events that worked in his favor and outright murder. He was likely no great admirer of Samuil, as many years before Samuil had order the execution of his parents and siblings. He himself, was spared only at the request of his cousin Gavril Radomir, Samuil’s eldest son. In 1014, Samuil fell victim to something that was probably a stroke brought about by the enormous shock of his defeat at Kleidion and possibly the horror of seeing scores of his soldiers, blinded on the orders of Basil II. The throne fell to Gavril who then was a target of his less-than-grateful cousin Ivan, who killed Gavril (most likely at the behest of the Byzantine government) while the latter was out boar hunting. The throne was now Ivan’s and he set his sights as his uncle had done, on the lands of Duklja which was an inconvenient block on his way to the strategic port city of Dyrrachium. He sent envoys to Jovan requesting his presence at Prespa. Theodora, knowing full well the treachery her cousin was capable of, implored her beloved husband not to listen to Ivan’s demands. The Chronicle of the Priest of Duklja tells us that she went herself to the court at Prespa. At this point, Ivan urged her husband to follow sending a golden cross as a promise of good faith and safe conduct, whereupon the chronicle tells is he replied: “We believe that our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us, was suspended not on a golden cross, but on a wooden one. Therefore, if both your faith and your words are true, send me a wooden cross in the hands of religious men, then in accordance with the belief and conviction of the Lord Jesus Christ, I will have faith in the life-giving cross and holy wood. I will come.”

Whether this was simply a matter of diversionary tactics or stalling for time, we may never know. In any case, Ivan then sent two bishops and a hermit (presumably trusted and known to Jovan) with a wooden cross that they attested that Ivan had given his kiss of good faith. Jovan then came, taking the wooden cross (so the chronicle tells us) with him to Prespa.

The chronicle does not tell us what words were spoken at this meeting nor exactly what took place, though I attempt to reimagine it fictionally in The Bone Goddess:

Theodora stood on the stone steps of the church, the wind buffeting her veil over her face. Ivan stood near her, his hands clasped before him. He had chosen to wear full ring mail today with a surcoat bearing the Cometomuli colors. On her other side stood the Lombard mercenary Audoin. He rested his hands on the pommel of his unsheathed sword, the point on the stone step, midway between his toes. He seemed to like to keep it unscabbarded. Perhaps so all could read the inscription on the blade: I do not await eternity. I am eternity. Theodora could make out her husband among the men he rode with. Even at this distance, she recognized the set of his shoulders. How fine and handsome he looked astride a horse! He rode with a contingent of about a dozen or so retainers. She was surprised. She had expected he would bring more.

 He should have known that the guileful Ivan could not be trusted. In imagery that is almost evocative of the death of the fictional Lord Eddard Stark in Game of Thrones, Jovan was summarily beheaded by Ivan’s soldiers in front of the church at Prespa. According to the chronicle, Jovan was killed while still holding the cross. In religious art, he is depicted – rather improbably – carrying the cross in one hand and his own severed head in the other.

I chose a rather more mundane way of depicting his tragic end:

He was still holding the wooden cross on which Athenasius had inscribed his blessing. He seemed disoriented. A soldier came forward and kicked the cross from Jovan’s hands.  His retainers and guards had been forced back by Ivan’s men. Saganek drew his sword and rushed Ivan’s guards. He was yelling something, but Theodora could not hear what it was. It seemed intended for Ivan. Then Saganek went down and she saw he had a spear sunk into his belly. He was clutching it, convulsing, deep scarlet spreading over the front of his linen tunic.

Ivan nodded to the soldiers who flanked him, and they moved in.  Jovan’s arms had been jerked roughly behind him. They forced him to his knees. She darted forward to Jovan, but she was pulled back by one of Ivans’ soldiers who wrapped his burly, mail-clad arms around her, restraining her. Audoin came forward now at a nod from Ivan. He raised his great Lombard sword over his head.

“No Ivan, please, no! You must not do this!” Her words came in sobbing gasps. She had promised herself she would not beg anything of Ivan. She would not grovel at his feet.

Jovan looked up at her. He seemed to say something to her. She could not hear. More soldiers moved in front of her, blocking her view.

Mihail growled, “For the love of God and His Mother, take the lady away, my lord. Do not let her be witness to this.”

Ivan shook his head. “No, Mihail. She insisted on doing the work of a man, coming here as her husband’s ambassador. Let her now not have any concession made to her because of her womb.”

 His remains were interred at Prespa, though his distraught widow had them later removed to Duklja. He was then made into a saint and his feast day is May 22, the day in which his life was ended via Ivan’s treachery. As for Theodora Kosara, she faded into obscurity, presumably to end her days in a monastery, giving a not-so-happily-after ending to what was otherwise an enchanting fairytale romance.

Emesa, Golden City on the Orontes

18th century original drawing of the castle of Hims by Cassas

Seen from a distance the Citadel was a sprawling hill, topped by domes and arches, sloping down to the city of Emesa and the desert that encircled it. The entrance was a high face of sand colored stone, flanked by towers and entered by a long narrow bridge that gave way to yet another imposing gate. Bab al-Souq rose up before them, the stone golden in the afternoon sun. Dusk was sifting down into the street, thickening the shadows.

I mention the city of Emesa, Syria in my book The Plague Casket, as a destination by Ulf and Sophia. Today it is known by the Arabic name of Homs, though there is reason to believe that the Byzantines would have continued to refer to it by its Greek name, even after the Muslim conquest and subsequent loss from Byzantine control. It is a city that is no stranger to strife and siege. Homs has long stood as a key center of trade and agriculture going back to at least the Christian era. It was the home of the Roman empress Julia Domna who was a daughter of an hereditary high priest to Elagabal . It had, at one time, a great temple dedicated to this sun god. Currently the Great Mosque of al-Nuri stands on this site. One of the priests of the sun god Elagbal, was the seriously delusional Roman emperor Elagabalus (born Varius Avitus Bassus, also the grand nephew of Julia Domna) named for the god whom he served.

Homs is also referred to with moderate frequency by Usamah ibn Munqidh in his memoirs as published under the title An Arab-Syrian Gentleman in the Period of the Crusades. This venerable Syrian gentleman gave his name to the Citadel there. The tell upon which it was built dates back to at least the Bronze Age. Its strategic position on the Orontes River made it coveted by whomever had military designs in Syria, including the Byzantines. The Hamidids took control in 944 and it was from them that Basil wrested control in 999.

As a city, Emesa may have been founded by the Seleucid kings, following the death of Alexander the Great. It was already a very old city by the time Ulf and Sophia enter its gates in The Plague Casket. It has been identified by some archaeologists as the biblical Zobah which would date it to at least 2100 BCE. The Romans tolerated the worship of the pagan Elagbalus which during the Christian era gave way to churches which were torn down or converted to mosques when the Arabs regained control over the city. The city’s mosques were returned to Christian use when the Byzantines raided Syria in general and Emesa/Homs in particular when Basil II made yet another sweeping foray into Syria in 999 CE. The Arab geographer, Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad Shams al-Dīn al-Maqdis wrote in 985 that Homs was the largest city in all of Syria, but that it had suffered great misfortunes, indicating it had already been the source of much conflict, including the Arab-Byzantine Wars.

Gates of Old Emesa Aemilius Wikimedia Commons

When Basil entered the city, he may have ridden through any number of her historic gates. They were Bab al-Souq (Gate of the Market), Bab Tadmur,  Bab al-Sebaa (Gate of the Lions),  Bab al-Dirayb, Bab al-Turkman,  Bab al-Masdoud (Closed Door) and  Bab Hud.

Many Arab tribes came to settle near Homs, among whom were the Banu Kilab who also receive mention in my book. A proud Bedouin people, the Banu Kilab tended to support the Fatimid regime, though in the late tenth century it was the Hamidids who tried to maintain control over the city. Often the Hamidid cities were vassals to the Byzantines and paid suzerainty to the Byzantine Emperors or their representatives as did Sa’id al-Dawla , emir of Beroea (now Aleppo). Throughout the early eleventh century it was the Banu Kilab who maintained control over Homs, as Basil concluded a ten year peace with the Fatimids so he could continue his Bulgarian wars.

Today the original city and its citadel lie in ruins outside the modern city of Homs, which has had its own insurrections to deal with. Before the Syrian Civil War it was a major center of industry for Syria. The area is home to many cultural and historical landmarks such as the Crusader castle Krak des Cheveliers and it is to be hoped it does not meet fate of so many icons of the area as did the Roman theater in Palmyra at the hands of ISIS insurgents. War has often been responsible for the destruction of things that give us a window into the past. Perhaps this wanton and tragic demolition can be halted, by those who care to preserve the past to better our understanding of the future.

Resources:

A Brief History of the Roman Empire

By Stephen P. Kershaw

Cities of the Middle East and North Africa: A Historical Encyclopedia

edited by Michael Dumper, Bruce E. Stanley

An Arab-Syrian Gentleman in the Period of the Crusades

by Usamah ibn Munqidh

 

The Varangian Guard Part Two

It didn’t happen any too soon. Bardas Phokas, the chief of the rebels and a one time trusted general of Basils’ was closing in on the imperial city. Or rather, one of his next in command, Kalyokyros Delphinas, who took charge of storming Chrysopolis, a city across the Golden Horn from Constantinople. It took a quite a long time for negotiations to take place, but once they did, either in late 988 or early 999, numerous long ships could be seen on the horizon and with them six thousand Norsemen. They soundly defeated Delphinas’ men. Delphinas himself went on to meet a nasty death of impalement. The Varangians then went on to Abydos where they were again victorious, albeit helped out some by Bardas Phokas inexplicably keeling over on the battlefield. Stroke? Heart attack? Poison? We can’t be sure.
Of these six thousand men, Basil selected the best to be his personal guard. They were fierce fighters. Wherever Basil went, they went. Basil continued his campaign in Bulgaria, fighting on for around twenty more years before seeing victory. No doubt the Varangian Guard were there at the infamous Kleidion where who knows how many Bulgarians were blinded and sent home. In Syria, they are remembered for stripping the lead and copper from the Monastery of Constantine and setting fire to it.
They had the distinct honor of being able to go to the imperial vaults and being allowed to take away whatever they could carry when an emperor died. Their oath was to the emperor alone and not to the empire. They were also the best paid of the military. In fact, it was so hard to get into the Guard, yuu had to not only prove yourself, but pay the equivalent of three pounds of gold as an entry fee. Many guardsmen went home to Scandinavia, wealthy men. After England came under the control of William, Duke of Normandy, in 1066, many disgruntled and disenfranchised Englishmen left to become guardsman.
The result of the marriage of Anna to Vladimir? Eventually Russia. Her grand onion domes, Cyrillic alphabet, eastern orthodox religion and many customs, were all distinctively Byzantine. But her name Russia, is because of the Rus, the Norse traders who came down to what is now the Ukraine to do business.
Later, Harold Hadrada would make the Varangian Guard famous with his innovative battle tactics, before returning to Norway to be king. He died at Stamford Bridge in 1066, in a failed bid for the throne of Northumbria. before the Saxon king, also named Harold, marched down to Hastings to meet his own defeat at Hastings at he hands of the William, the bastard Duke of Normandy.
The Varangian Guard survived in some form or other until the fall of Constantinople to the Ottoman Turks in 1453. By this time they no longer had the same awe-inspiring reputation, nor were they a Scandinavian unit. However, the memory of them is still renowned, as one of the most fearsome foreign units in history.