Tag: Basil II

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

 

If a Coin Could Speak

I was given this coin as a thoughtful gift by a friend a few months ago.  The coin does not come from exactly the same era as The Serpentine Key, but it is very close. In fact, the emperor depicted on the front is Constantine VIII, younger brother to Basil II, who is the Emperor in The Serpentine Key. Constantine co-ruled only nominally with his older brother Basil II. While Basil decided to throw off the oppressive regime of their great uncle the eunuch Imperial Chamberlain, Basil Lekapenos and take a serious interest in the affairs of state, Constantine showed no such inclination. He and his wife the Empress Helene continued the party lifestyle. It was one that ill prepared Constantine for sole rulership when Basil died in 1025. With Constantine’s daughter, Zoe marrying Romanos III Aryros and producing no issue, it spelled the end of the Macedonian dynasty and all the work Basil II had gone to to ensure that the Byzantine Empire would remain financially stable.

This coin would not have been very valuable in its time. It is not a gold solidii. But it would have been much used. Perhaps it passed through the hands of soldiers, merchants and  Arab traders.  Did it buy a cup of wine? A loaf of bread? A night with a girl in a brothel? I can only imagine that if it could talk, what a lot of stories it could tell.

At the time of Basil II’s death, the Empire stretched in the north to nearly the entire circumference of the Black Sea (then the Euxine Sea) to Crete in the Mediterranean in the south. To the west it encompassed Croatia and the southern end of Italia; in the east it bordered Syria, still maintaining Antioch and bordering Armenia, Iberia and Mesopotamia. While not as vast as the earlier Western Roman Empire before the division, the empire Basil left was stable. Her borders were secure, her people well cared for, her finances in order. Then began a slow decline for the Empire, till the sack of Constantinople by the Ottomans in 1453.

This coin could have been carried to Baghdad by a Syrian pepper merchant like Ahmed al-Zayeeb.. Perhaps it was spent on a cup of wine by a Varangian Guardsman, like Sven. They were notorious drinkers and a nickname for them was the “Emperor’s wine skins”. Perhaps a coin much like this went for a length of blue wool, for a cloak for Ulfric as described in The Serpentine Key:

Freydis fingered some blue woolen cloth for sale at the cloth merchants. It would make a fine cloak for Ulfric. Winter would be soon closing in. While it was not as harsh as in the Northlands, he was in dire need of a new cloak. The fabric was fine. She ran her fingers over the coin in her hand, feeling the raised profiles of the two Emperors, wondering how much she could haggle the cloth merchant down.

From The Serpentine Key by G.S. Brown

If only my coin could tell its own story. In the meantime, I must be content to weave my own.

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The Varangian Guard Part One

In The Serpentine Key, Sven Thorvaldson serves as emissary to Vladimir, Prince of Kiev, from Basil II, Emperor of the Eastern Roman Empire, bringing in the Norsemen who would eventually become the Varangian Guard.

Varangian was a term used by the Byzantines to denote anyone from the area we now call the Ukraine, as well as Scandinavia.
In 986 Basil II was in a difficult situation. His nobles were rebelling against him, he had a shortage of military, he had just been catastrophically ambushed at Trajan’s Gate by the Bulgarians and he no one he could really trust. It was not for nothing that the Byzantines were known for political intrigue. In fact the name came to mean political intrigue in later centuries.
Basil had a sister who was yet unmarried and in 988 he came to a decision that was to change the course of history. He sent a proposition to Vladimir, prince of Kiev who was then making himself all too well at home in one of Basil’s Cities, Cherson in the Crimea. If Vladimir would convert to Christianity and send six thousand of his finest warriors, Vladimir could then have the coveted hand of his sister, the Porphyrogenita in marriage.

Ann’s title, the Porphyrogenita, meant literally “Purple Born: she had been born in the chambers made of porphyry, a kind of purple stone and that meant her place in the imperial family as was her brother’s a high status one. One simply did not go marrying one’s imperial sister off to a pagan barbarian war lord who already had eight wives and numerous concubines. There was an uproar in the city. It was the scandal of the century.
What was in this for Vladimir besides the hand of the most eligible bachelorette in all Christendom?

By marrying Anna, Vladimir could ally himself with a very powerful neighbor, one with whom the Rus had long been at odds with. Furthermore, Vladimir had already been religion shopping. He had rejected Judaism and Islam and western Christianity, but the the reports of the high-domed Hagia Sophia– now that he liked. Eastern Orthodox Christianity it would be for him.  The six thousand warriors, Vladimir had amassed to take down his brother Yaropolk were getting a tad bit restless. Many of these were mercenaries who had been sent by Vladimir’s kinsman, the king of Norway, to aid Vladimir during his tempestuous little civil war with his brother for control of the land left by their father Sviatoslav. It was said that they told Vladimir when he had no money to pay them as promised, “Show us then, the way to the King of the Greeks!” For before this time, it was not unheard of for Scandinavians to be mercenaries in Byzantine forces, for which the Byzantines paid very well.

So in this way, Vladimir got out of a potentially sticky situation, got the girl (though he had to send away all the extra ladies, of course) and got a new religion with which to bind his divided kingdom of Norse and Slavs together. Basil married off his sister and got some of the most feared fighting forces in the world at the time. One cannot but wonder if some of them were not the legendary Jomsvikings, but that is a subject for another time.

 

Greek Fire – Legendary Incendiary Part One

In The Serpentine Key, the secret to Greek Fire is stolen through the subterfuge of a member of the imperial family itself and used as a bargaining chip in the intrigues surrounding the rebellion against Basil II in the 980s.
Greek Fire was an incendiary weapon, most famously used by the Byzantine Empire from at least the seventh century C.E., eventually being lost to obscurity, some say by the end of the thirteenth century. Greek Fire is most famous for being able to burn on water and reputedly not being able to be extinguished with water. Some even said that water fueled its flames. The only things that could extinguish it were supposedly vinegar and stale urine, both of which were used to infuse cow hides which were then placed over fortress walls and ships to protect them from igniting. This was useful knowledge for those against whom Greek fire was used, including the Rus, Bulgarians, Turks and others. In 814, the Bulgarians captured several barrels of the stuff and 36 siphons, but because of the complex nature of operating the devices, they went unused. In 941, the liquid was used against the Rus with deadly efficacy. Liudprand of Cremona remembered this event when he wrote: “The Rus, seeing the flames, jumped overboard, preferring water to fire. Some sank, weighed down by the weight of their breastplates and helmets; others caught fire.” Those who escaped were captured and executed. The Rus never again attempted to besiege Constantinople, preferring in later years to guard the city in the capacity of the Varangian Guard.

It is telling that this weapon was not called Greek Fire in its own time. Indeed, the Byzantines who thought of themselves as nothing by Roman, would have been insulted by the appellation of Greek, even though it was the language most in the Empire spoke. Instead it was called Roman fire, Kallinikos fire, sea fire, liquid fire and even wild fire, and it is this latter name that George R.R. Martin in his Song of Ice and Fire series chose for the green fire used by the characters in his fantasy.
Greek fire is credited to a Syrian known as Kallinikos or Callinicus. Supposedly, his descendants, a family by the name of Lampros, were responsible for guarding the secret. This story in itself is controversial. The name Lampros means “Brilliant” Was this a cover for the people who were in charge of keeping it secret? It has been said the the secret was never written down, but was given into the care of three alchemists who each knew a portion of the formula, but not all of it, so that it could not be stolen. Were these alchemists of the Lampros family? Or were they members of a family at all, but actually more of a secret organization charged with the security of the Byzantine Empire?

Incendiary weapons were hardly new to the scene when Kallinikos came along. They are depicted as being used by the Assyrians and are mentioned numerous times in historical records. So what made Greek Fire so special? There were a lot of people who wanted to get their hands on it and the Byzantines would do a lot to keep it out of the hands of their enemies. It was said that on his deathbed, Romanos II, charged his son (Basil II’s father) to never deliver the secret to the enemies of the empire, declaring the weapon to be a gift from the angels and “not to prepare this fire but for Christians, and only in the imperial city”. In addition to the alchemists who compounded the secret formula, there was also the task of constructing the siphons through which the liquid was propelled at other ships. Furthermore, the men who operated the siphons needed to be trained to effectively operate them. The siphons would likely have been a device in which the liquid was heated in a sort of covered cauldron, whereupon it would have been forced through a siphon that was pumped, giving it the necessary pressure to effectively spray the heated liquid over a good distance with deadly effect. Those operating this system would likely have needed some sort of protective covering, perhaps leather garments soaked in vinegar or stale urine.

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Poison Apothecary Part Six

Of the two plants known as hellebore to the ancients, only one was true hellebore. They were not related, but both were very poisonous. Black hellebore Helleborus niger is the true hellebore and sometimes used as a purgative. White hellebore or false hellebore (Veratrum album ) is the subject of this article. It is most famous for its role in its use in poisoning the water supply of the residents of Kirrah by their Greek besiegers. The besieged were so weak from the emetic effects of the plant, they were unable to withstand the assaults of the enemy upon their city.

A more recent historical theory has posited that Alexander the Great was poisoned by his own trusted cup-bearer with hellebore. Alexander was known to use white hellebore as an emetic and it would not have been difficult to overdose him or even place it in his wine as has been suggested.

The Gauls used it to poison their arrow tips for hunting and Odysseus of Homer’s Odyssey was also known to have tipped his arrows with white hellebore.

Whatever the poison, its use came with a certain lack of honor. It was looked on as a weapon of women and eunuchs, yet was certainly not eschewed to use by anyone desirous to rid themselves of anyone inconvenient. Even the grasping Ivan Vladislav in The Bone Goddess, as desperate as he was to have himself on the throne of Bulgaria, considered himself too noble to use poison on his cousin Gavril Radomir. Historically, the real Ivan killed Gavril while out hunting, as indeed he does in The Bone Goddess:

Basil laid aside the heavy tome and placing the tips of his fingers together, silently contemplated Ivan. “You will receive only a usurpers welcome, Ivan. Your people recognize you no longer. If you take the throne of Bulgaria, it must be with an iron hand and you do so under my authority. No Bulgarian will accept the rule of a Roman puppet.”

“Then hold me back no longer. Let me kill Gavril and take the throne!

Basil smiled thinly. “Then how will you kill him, son of Aron? Will you kill him while he sleeps? Will you turn his servants against him? Will you turn to the poisoners for aconite, henbane or hellebore?”

“I do not take a man’s life like thief in the night!” Ivan sneered. “When I kill him, he will look on my face and know who killed him!”

Poison was present on the mind of anyone who held any position that made them inconvenient and disposable. So much so, there were numerous recipes and solutions for antidotes, avoiding poison, and detecting it. Most famous was theriac. Mithradates VI of Pontus was the one to begin the legend of theriac. He experimented on his unfortunate prisoners with numerous poisons and antidotes. He claimed to have developed one that was effective against every kind of animal venom and plant toxin which he dubbed mithridatium. Mithridate contained opium, myrrh, saffron, ginger, cinnamon and castor, along with some forty other ingredients Eventually his notes fell into the hands of the Romans who conquered him and so spread. The physician Galen write a book called Theriaké . Galen’s recipe differed from Mithradates in that he added a distilled and powdered concoction made from viper’s flesh in addition to as many as fifty-five herbs including but not limited to long pepper, hedychium ( a flowering plant in the ginger family), poppy juice, cinnamon, opobalsam, (the resinous juice of balm of Gilead) myrrh, black and white pepper and turpentine resin, Lemnian earth ( a medicinal clay) roasted copper, castoreum (secretions from the anal glands of beavers), honey and vetch meal. While it seems highly unlikely that such a recipe would prove efficacious in counteracting any poison, it was highly regarded in its day. Leo VI expounded on the subject in the Byzantine military manual the Sylloge Tactiticorum as concerned military men:

For the soldiers to truly become immune to poisonous drugs, each must be given, on an empty stomach,. twenty leaves of rue, two nuts and two dried figs. If the above drugs prove to be completely inactive and ineffective, the following is applied: after the soldiers have put dry rue, peppercorn, a Lemnian clay stamped tablet, figs and nuts together in equal portions and after they have ground them down to the size of a walnut or a mouse each [must] consume this before or after the meal.

It is doubtful there were any effective antidotes at the time of the writing of the Tactiticorum. In any case, poison continued to be widely used and widely feared.  Share your thoughts below? Do you think mithridatium was an effective antidote?

Sources: Greek Fire, Poison Arrows, and Scorpion Bombs: Biological & Chemical Warfare By Adrienne Mayor

In the Arms of Morpheus: The Tragic History of Morphine, Laudanum and Patent Medicines by Barbara Hodgson

A tenth-century Byzantine military manual:the Sylogge Tacticocrum tran. Georgeio Chatzelis amd Jonathan Harris

Antitheriaka: An Essay on Mithridatium and Theriaca by William Heberden

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Poison Apothecary Part One

Poison! Just the word would cause a medieval citizen of Constantinople to cast a furtive glance into his or her cup. Almost all the poisons available to the people of the Middle Ages were derived from plants. Not all who were suspected of dying of poison, necessarily did so, but it is a testament to how common it was and much the danger was ever present on the mind of especially upper class Byzantines.

John I Tzimiskes, step-father to Emperors Basil II and his brother Constantine VIII, was suspected of having succumbed to poison, at the hands of Imperial Chamberlain Basil Lakepenos in a bid to keep from losing Lakepenos’ ill-gotten gains, but historians have found no proof of this. Nor has any evidence been found to support the contemporary belief that Basil II’s mother Theophano poisoned his father Romanos II. Nevertheless, the possibility of poison was ever present in the mind of the aristocracy.

A well-mixed poison could be bought from an apothecary, but it was just as easily obtainable from any well-stocked herb garden. The apothecary was somewhere on the blurred lines between a shop-keeper and a medical professional. The most readily obtainable poisons were aconite, hellbore, henbane, nightshade, and hemlock, to which I will also add the poison obtained from a non-plant source, an insect – Spanish Fly, referenced in The Well of Urd as “blister beetle”. Please keep in mind this is for educational purposes only, Under no circumstances should you ever consume any of these substances, nor attempt to treat yourself in case of accidental ingestion!

Of the ones we will talk about in this series, most notorious is Aconitum, among many other names also known as Monk’s Hood, Wolfsbane (for its reputation in poisoning wolves) and Queen of Poisons. It belongs to the family Ranunculaceae, including over 250 species. The Byzantines would have been very familiar with this deadly poison, dubbing it lykotonon — “wolf slaying”. Historically, Cleopatra VII of Egypt was said to have poisoned her brother Ptolemy XIV with aconite. In classical mythology, the sorceress Medea attempted to have king Aegeus unwittingly kill his own son, Theseus with a cup poisoned with aconite. It is said to have sprung from the spittle of Cerberus, famed three-headed dog of Greek myth. Even touching this deadly plant, especially the roots, can gain you an unpleasant death.

Death from aconite is slow and painful, though with large doses, death can be almost instantaneous as in a scene from the second book in the Varangian Trilogy. In The Well of Urd the courtesan Cyra attempts to poison Theophana, the wife of the Doux of Antioch, with a cosmetic cream of aconite and blister beetle When her ruse is discovered, a the chamberlain Aleksandr forces the apothecary, Ignatios who sold her the poisons to drink the aconite himself:

Aleksandr slammed the door shut again. “The aconite sweetens your blood already,” he said softly. “Have you ever seen anyone die from the aconite that you so laboriously prepared, Ignatios? First comes the burning of your fingers and toes. You grow mad because it seems as if a myriad of insects crawl beneath you skin. Your vision blurs and you can no longer see anything clearly in front of you. Then you will sweat though you can never grow warm. You will thirst, but no amount of wine or water will ever quench the dryness in your mouth. If you have drunk an especially efficacious mixture, mixed at your own hand, distilled from most potent roots gathered at their season’s height, you will soon find your heart does not beat rhythmically. All the world slows, in your perception, but the world goes on as before.” He knelt by the side of Ignatios. “It is only your heart that slows.” Ignatios retched and vomited on the floor. Aleksandr rose to his feet, looking down speculatively on the dying man, thrashing about in his own vomit. He tilted his head. “Ahh, it is I thought. Aconite takes away the powers of speech before it closes the eyes. What a shame. I should like to have heard your final words.” Ignatios’ hands curled like claws, grasping at the viridian marble floor. Spittle and bloody vomit trailed from the corner of his mouth.

As with many toxic plants that were used for nefarious purposes, they also had their place in healing, though only by those who were very certain of what they were doing.   Nicander of Colophon, a Greek poet of the second century BCE, illuminates Aconite in his Theriaca, cautioned that its pharmaceutical properties are best left alone. Those who utilized poison were sure to agree with the Swiss physician and alchemist, Paracelsus who said, “All things are poison and nothing is without poison; only the dose makes a thing not a poison.” Next time I will explore another well known toxic plant – henbane!

Sources:

A Modern Herbal by Mrs. M Grieve

 Greek Fire, Poison Arrows, and Scorpion Bombs: Biological & Chemical Warfare By Adrienne Mayor

Poisons & Antidotes by T.L. Stedman M.D.

Deadly Doses: A Writer’s Guide to Poisons by Anne Klarner and Serita Stevens

 

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Byzantine Cuisine –And Now Dessert

Dessert is an apt conclusion to the series on food. Desserts, including sweetmeats and honey cakes were eaten by the higher classes, including koptoplakous, the ancestor to baklava still eaten in Greece today. It would have certainly been on Theophana’s table:

Theophana smiled indulgently at her. She seemed to be in an especially good humor. “Since Constantine will not be returning, I think it best that we look elsewhere to marry you. There are so many good matches to be had for a young woman of your position in the world and I hardly think any suitor will find your looks displeasing or wanting. Now,” She picked up a two-tined fork and prodded a dish in which lay koptoplakous in golden, honeyed splendor. “Won’t you try this, Davit? It is very good.” She smiled at him. Normally the koptoplakous, filled with nuts and honey, soaked with bay leaves and resting between layers of pastry would have made Sophia’s mouth water. She watched as a servant prepared to cut and serve the sweetmeat. Theophana’s eyes were bright with anticipation, but Sophia did not think it was the koptoplakous that inspired her.

Speaking of forks, to the imperial family the fork would have been a recognizable implement, yet still hundreds of years away from regular use in Western Europe. The wife of the Holy Roman Emperor in the West, Otto II was a Byzantine princess. (Her name was Theophano Sclerina and she was a member of the Scleros family. Not to be confused with my fictional Theophana nor to the historical Theophano who was mother to the emperors Basil II and Constantine VIII). She used a fork as a matter of course at a banquet in 972 in Germany and caused no little astonishment (and perhaps scorn) to her Western in-laws.

If women were present at banquets, they were most often served at a separate table. Then as now, social rules might often be disregarded however. Women’s social standing in the Byzantine Empire presents an interesting subject for another article outside the scope of this one. They were certainly excused from post dinner festivities which were often the venue for riotous drinking and dancing girls.

A whole book could be written regarding the gastronomic and culinary delights of the middle Byzantine empire and suffice to say there is not room in a blog. Food says much about a culture. What could food say about the Byzantines? That they enjoyed fine food in an age when much of the world dined on simpler fare, perhaps? Or does it say something about the abundance of the empire during the reigns of Basil II and his brother Constantine? Basil II was known to give special preference in taxation to the common farmers versus the large plantation farms of the nobility. He recognized that agriculture was the foundation of his empire. Truly the Byzantines have bequeathed to us a legacy not least of which was their food. Perhaps except for the garum.

I highly recommend reading from these resources:

Daily Life in the Byzantine Empire by Marcus Rautman

The Book of the Eparch

Geoponika (translated by Thomas Owen)

Let me know your thoughts below.

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Was Trajan’s Gate a Conspiracy?

Trajan’s Gate By Vassia Atanassova – Spiritia

In  The Serpentine Key, I take the idea that the Battle of Trajan’s Gate in August 986, was actually part of a conspiracy by some of Basil’s nobles to discredit him or even cause his death as part of the coup that was fomenting back in the capital city, Constantinople.

There is little historical record to go on and one of the main historians and eye witness to the battle itself, Leo Diaconus was actually not a supporter of Basil and was in fact, quite a harsh critic of him later on.

Map showing the routes taken by Byzantine and Bulgarian armies

What we do know is that Bulgaria was an extensive threat to the Byzantine Empire and the young Basil, so new at taking the reins to his own empire, set out with 30,000 soldiers to lay siege to Serdica (modern day Sophia). The siege was a disaster. Historians tells us the the generals were inexperienced and incompetent (purposely so?) and placed the siege engines too close to the city walls. This left them vulnerable and the inhabitants destroyed them. They were further put at a disadvantage when their own supplies were destroyed by insurgents who sneaked out of the city at night. Before long, the besiegers were in as a dire situation as the besieged. Furthermore, the commander who was in charge of their retreat, Leon Melissinos, had pulled back his troops to Phillippopolis (present day Plovdiv). The commander of Basil’s western army, a man whom history only records as Stephen Kontostephanos, or Stephen the Short, urged Basil to head back to the city with all haste, with the advice that Melissinos was hastening back to take part in a coup brewing there.

Basil decided to cut his losses early and after a failed siege that had lasted less than three weeks, began a retreat through Trajan’s Gate. This was to prove to be a disastrous move. By marching his men through the mountain pass known as Trajan’s Gate, Basil had effectively set up his remaining army for a strategic ambush. It wasn’t long before the word came back to the army that Samuil’s troops had circled around and lay in wait, blocking every exit from the narrow defile through the mountains. This is not in dispute by historians. From all I have read and researched, I have yet to find anyone questioning the actions of Leon Melissinos as he pulled back the men who were supposed to guard the retreat and prevent this very disaster. Nor has anyone questioned the actions of the shadowy Kontostephanos as he urged the young and inexperienced emperor to hurry into what must surely have been a trap laid for him.

Could there have actually been a conspiracy between the supporters of the nobleman Bardas Phokas who was fomenting the rebellion from afar in Anatolia and the followers of Samuil of the Bulgarian Cometopuli dynasty? This seems unlikely, given the Byzantine attitude towards the Bulgarians at the time. Was Melissinos merely incompetent like the generals who had left the siege engines vulnerable to the besieged? Or was there something more sinister afoot? Did Kontostaphanos have his emperor’s best interest in mind when he urged him to hurry back to Constantinople? Or was this a way to funnel the emperor and his army very neatly into a pass flanked on either side with waiting archers and spearmen?

We do know that the nobles were very upset that the young emperor, Basil would go on campaign against the Bulgarians without their consent. This was likely a matter of control that they sensed they were losing over him. The emperor had already banished his powerful great uncle, the Imperial Chamberlain, Basil Lekapenos from court the year before. The young Basil was nothing if not determined and as the years in his later reign would show, he was not above eliminating any who stood in his way. He had to be stopped. Regicide was hardly new to Constantinople. Only a few years before, Basil’s step-father Emperor Nikephoros II had been the victim of just such a conspiracy having been beaten to death by John Tzmiskes. Later, Tzmiskes himself was rumored to be the victim of assassination. Some said the Imperial Chamberlain himself was behind it. So why not get rid of the young upstart Basil once and for all and make it look like a battle plan gone horribly awry?

As it turns out, the ambush did go badly. Basil, though possibly wounded, was not a casualty however. There was but one mountain pass either left unguarded or very poorly blocked and with the help of his elite advance guard, the emperor made his escape, though at a very great personal and political loss. Many of his soldiers were captured as well as the baggage wagons and the imperial insignia. He limped back to Constantinople with what remained of his army to find the whispers of rebellion echoing in the shadows of her streets. It would be three more long weary years before Basil could finally feel that the power of empire lay firmly in his grip. He had proved after all that he was a man capable of winning and holding the throne of the Eastern Roman Empire.

Let me know your thoughts below. I would love to hear from you!

Sources: History of Leo the Deacon: Byzantine Military Expansion in the Tenth Century by Leo Diaconus

The Bulgarian-Byzantine Wars for Early Medieval Balkan Hegemony: Silver-Lined Skulls and Blinded Armies by Dennis P. Hupchick

 Byzantium: The Imperial Centuries, AD 610-1071 by Romilly James Heald Jenkins

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