The Strategy Of The Decoy Camp—Alexios Komnenos Versus Nikephoros Basilakios

In the autumn of 1078, a young general (and future emperor) of the Byzantine Empire by the name of Alexios Komnenos handed a freshly captured rebel leader named Nikephoros Bryennios the Elder over to an agent of Emperor Nikephoros III Botaneiates (r. 1078-1081). In exchange for the prisoner, the agent of the emperor delivered a message for Alexios containing a new task set to him by the crown. Around the same time that Bryennios’ rebellion was crushed, another rebellion had erupted in the city of Dyrrakhion (modern Durrës, Albania), led by Nikephoros Basilakios—Alexios’ task was to hunt down this third Nikephoros (whom we will simply refer to as Basilakios) and put a stop to the rebellion.

John Skylitzes’ Scandalous Libel Against The 9th-Century Patriarch Of Constantinople, John VII “The Grammarian”

Those who win victory can, and sometimes do, distort the memory of the factions that they triumphed over. This reality can be found in the Synopsis of Byzantine History by John Skylitzes, a historian who thrived during the reign of Emperor Alexios Komnenos (r. 1081-1118). In his synopsis of the history covering the reigns of emperors throughout the 9th, 10th and 11th centuries, Skylitzes gave little-to-no sympathy to the proponents of Iconoclasm—a Christian movement that condemned the use of ‘icons,’ such as images and sculptures, claiming that the veneration of these items constituted idolatry. Empress Irene almost eradicated the movement in 787, but Iconoclasm recovered and was only defeated decades later, on the instigation of Empress Theodora in 843. John Skylitzes, despite writing centuries after the fall of Iconoclasm, apparently still held a grudge against the last Iconoclast Patriarch (religious leader) of Constantinople—John VII “the Grammarian.” In his history, Skylitzes accused John the Grammarian of almost every horror imaginable.

Six Years of Chaos In Byzantium: The Cumans Vs. The Pechenegs Vs. The Byzantine Empire Vs. Çaka Bey of Smyrna

The Invasion

(The Pechenegs defeating the Rus, from the Skyllitzes Matritensis, fol. 173r, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

In 1087 CE, a horde of Pecheneg warriors (followed by their families) poured down from the steppes above the Black Sea and into territory controlled by the Byzantine Empire. The empire was ruled at that time by Emperor Alexios Komnenos, who had led the empire since 1081 CE. These tens of thousands of hostile warriors threw the empire into such a panic that memories of the old ‘barbarian’ enemies of the Roman Empire were revived to describe the new Pecheneg threat. Anna Komnene, daughter of Emperor Alexios, likened the invaders to the ancient Scythians, Sarmatians and Dacians in her history, The Alexiad. She estimated that the Pechenegs had crossed into imperial territory with as many as 80,000 warriors.

Emperor Commodus—History Is Better Than Fiction

The Real Emperor Commodus Was Much More Bizarre and Odd Than The Way He Is Portrayed In Film

  (Bust of Commodus photographed by Wolfgang Sauber in the Antiques Museum in the Royal Palace, Stockholm, via Creative Commons (CC 1.0))

Film Portrayal

After watching the 2016 Netflix miniseries-documentary hybrid about Commodus called Roman Empire: Reign of Blood, I began to think about the ways Emperor Commodus has been depicted in film. In the hit movie, Gladiator, released in 2000, Commodus was portrayed as an incestuous snob who murdered his father, the great philosopher-emperor Marcus Aurelius.  At the end of that movie, Commodus was killed in a gladiatorial battle with the masses of Rome in audience. It made great cinema, but it was hardly a factual depiction of Commodus’ reign.

Netflix’s Roman Empire: Reign of Blood was much more factual, but there were noticeable differences between what the historians featured on the show said, compared to how the filmmakers recreated the scenes. The information provided by the historians was spot-on, but the filmmakers could not help but make the scenes more elaborate. The two scenes that really stood out in this regard were Commodus fighting as a gladiator and the depiction of his assassination. In the show’s gladiatorial scenes, Commodus was shown to be in dramatic (mostly fair) fights, but historically, Commodus likely only fought the crippled, the injured or the incapacitated in the arena. If he actually fought against skilled opponents, he would win by forfeit without any real combat. As to Commodus’ assassination, Gladiator and Roman Empire: Reign of Blood, both set the scene up as a final hand-to-hand combat showdown between the emperor and a gladiator, while history claims that Commodus was strangled by his wrestling instructor while bathing.

Yet, criticism is not the aim of this article. In the following paragraphs, read about the life and reign of Commodus and determine for yourselves if the historical Commodus is more interesting and bizarre than the interpretations provided by filmmakers.

Robert Guiscard and Emperor Alexios In The Chaotic Battle of Dyrrakhion (1081 CE)

A Bloody Fight On Land And Sea Between An Emperor And An Adventurer

The Norman Invasion

Emperor Alexios I Komnenos of Constantinople(r. 1081-1118 CE from his seat of power in modern-day Istanbul) had the misfortune of his country being invaded by one of the Medieval Age’s greatest opportunists—Robert Guiscard. Norman warriors and mercenaries, like Guiscard, had found that there were plentiful lucrative opportunities among the warring counts and dukes of Italy. Guiscard became the Duke of Apulia (the heel of Itay) in 1059, and from there he expanded his influence into Calabria, Naples and Sicily. While he increased his own power, Guiscard was also undermining the authority of the emperors of Constantinople in southern Italy.

(Medieval illustration of Emperor Alexios Komnenos (r. 1081-1118), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

When Robert Guiscard took the region of Bari in 1071, he had expelled the imperial ambitions of Constantinople from its last foothold in Italy. As soon as Emperor Alexios Komnenos came to power in 1081, the Norman conqueror took advantage of the instability caused by the regime change to invade the Byzantine Empire. Guiscard claimed he invaded the empire to reinstate the deposed emperor, Michael VII (r. 1071-1078), whose son, Constantine, had married Robert’s daughter, Helen. Few inhabitants of the Byzantine Empire, however, actually believed that the Norman warlord would relinquish control of the empire if it fell into his hands.

Strange, But Successful, War Tactics—Patience at the Battle of Versinikia

How the Bulgarian Khan Krum defeated a powerful Byzantine army by doing almost nothing at all

In the early 9^th century, multiple Byzantine emperors warred with Bulgaria. The Bulgarian khan of the time, named Krum, faced an invasion from Emperor Nicephorus I (also spelled Nikephoros) into Bulgarian territory. By 811 CE, the Emperor and his son were leading their army into Bulgaria. Their campaign, however, did not go as planned—Emperor Nicephorus I died in battle on Bulgarian soil and his son was mortally wounded.

(Depiction of Krum feasting after defeating Nicephorus I, from the Manasses Chronicle circa 14th century, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

The imperial throne passed over the dying son of the emperor and was bestowed upon a reluctant Michael Rangabe (Emperor Michael I), who was related to the former emperor by marriage. Michael I had very little time to settle into his new position as emperor, for Krum and the Bulgarians knew that imperial successions could leave the Byzantine Empire in a tumultuous and unstable state, ripe for invasion.

(Coronation of Emperor Michael I, from Chronicles of John Skylitzes circa 12th century, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

Khan Krum moved into the Byzantine-controlled regions of Thrace and Macedonia in 812 CE, occupying cities such as Develtus and Mesembria. With the Byzantine cities in his possession, Krum had the captured occupants shackled and sent back to Bulgaria to be forced into servitude. The khan sent an invitation to the Byzantine Emperor to begin a negotiation for peace, but the emperor, understandably, refused to consider an end to the war—after all, he was in the midst of gathering a massive army from the far reaches of his empire.

By 813 CE, the Byzantine army had grown enough for the emperor and his generals to confidently march against the Bulgarian forces. Michael I led his troops toward the Bulgarian front and camped his men at Versinikia, near Adrianople. Krum and the Bulgarians arrived at Versinikia soon after Michael I, and camped across from the Byzantines. For around two weeks, the Byzantine and Bulgarian forces held defensive postures, with no aggression or movement to be seen on either side. Despite having a much larger force than Krum, Michael refused to attack—a decision that made Byzantine soldiers, both officers and fresh recruits, disgruntled, anxious and mutinous.

(Approximate location of Battle of Versinikia (modern day Edirne Turkey) via Google Maps)

Eventually, Michael I lost control of the situation. His troops no longer wanted to wait. John Haldon, a Princeton professor of history, claims that one Byzantine general, named Aplakes, who controlled an entire wing of Michael’s army, decided to charge the Bulgarian forces against the wishes of his emperor. Michael I, furious at his disobedient general, had the rest of the army continue to hold its position. Unaided by the other Byzantine troops, Aplakes and his men were cut down in what many call a massacre while the rest of the army was ordered to do no more than watch.

This event triggered something in Leo the Armenian, commander of the other Byzantine wing. With either disgust for the emperor’s actions, or a treacherous eye for the emperor’s throne, Leo gathered his men and withdrew from the battlefield. The men in the Byzantine middle, commanded by Emperor Michael, were in a terrifying situation—one wing of the army was massacred and the other had abandoned the emperor. With their fellow countrymen either dead or fleeing, Michael’s own troops lost the will to fight and fled from the battle.

(The battle of Versinikia from the 14th century Bulgarian copy of the Manasses Chronicle, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

On the other side of the battle, the Bulgarians were likely just now looking up from the corpses left behind from the fruitless Byzantine charge. Krum’s men must have expected to be encircled by the remainder of the Byzantine army, or at least involved in a second engagement. When their eyes focused on the other Byzantine divisions, however, they were astonished to find the large army of Michael I fleeing from the scene. Krum and the Bulgarians were so surprised by this sight, that they expected the retreat to be a clever ploy to pull the Bulgarian forces into a trap. Krum, however, soon realized the retreat was genuine and eagerly sent his cavalry to run down the Byzantine soldiers who were still in range.

Though the Battle of Versinikia, itself, was tragic and humiliating for Emperor Michael I, there was more yet to come. Leo, who had withdrawn from the fight, did not stop at abandoning his emperor in the midst of a battle. No, he used his troops to occupy the Byzantine capitol of Constantinople. He also used the example of the Battle of Versinikia to spread rumors of Emperor Michael I’s military incompetence.

By the time Michael made his way back to Constantinople, Leo had gained significant admiration and support from the Byzantine people. Michael still had a formidable force of loyal soldiers, but he refused to begin a civil war. Michael, who was reluctant to even take the throne only two years previously, decided to peacefully abdicate the throne to Leo, who became Emperor Leo V in 813 CE.

(The proclamation of Emperor Leo V the Armenian from the 12th century Chronicles of John Skylitzes, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

Michael and his family were spared from the political assassinations and murders that plagued the monarchal shifts in power throughout much of history. That does not mean, however, that Michael and his family were treated well. Michael was separated from his family and forced to spend the rest of his life in a monastery located on the island of Prote, and at least one of his sons (the eldest) was ordered by Emperor Leo V to be castrated.

The Battle of Versinikia was certainly a strange battle. Emperor Michael and the Bulgarian Khan Krum both used the same tactic—waiting. For Michael, this led to a humiliating defeat and the end of his dynasty. For Krum, however, doing nearly nothing at all during the Battle of Versinikia allowed him to defeat a much larger Byzantine army and begin events leading to another imperial succession that resulted in the downfall of Michael I and the rise of Leo V.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

thehistorianshut.com

Sources: 

• John Skylitzes. A Synopsis of Byzantine History (811-1057) translated by John Wortley. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010. 
• John Haldon. The Byzantine Wars. Gloucesterchire: The History Press, 2008. 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Michael-I-Rhangabe#ref74654 
• http://www.byzantium.xronikon.com/battle.php?byzbat=b9_05 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Nicephorus-I 

The Brutal 1014 Battle of Kleidion

This is how Basil II became known as the ‘Bulgar-Slayer’

(Basil II, painted by unknown artist c. 11th century [Public domain], via Creative Commons)

Emperor Basil II (976 – 1025 CE) of Constantinople is not remembered by most historians as a particularly cruel or ruthless leader. Actually, he is generally well received. He was a very successful emperor in many respects. After putting down a civil war with the help of his Rus neighbors, Basil II expanded his imperial territory outward from the Byzantine heartland in modern Greece and Turkey to push into Italy and the Middle East. During his rule, the Empire of Constantinople (otherwise known as the Byzantine Empire) was stable and ordered.

A Commoner Who Killed An Emperor, Became An Emperor and Was Killed By An Emperor

The Incredible Story of the Byzantine Emperor Phocas (Ruled 602-610CE).

When we usually think of ancient and medieval history, we rarely imagine that there was much social mobility. Historians and numerous historical sources support that bleak assumption. In those days, the nobility had almost unquestionable power and the development of serfdom kept commoners figuratively chained to the land for generations. That stereotypical view of the ancient and medieval world—though often accurate—was not always true. Sometimes, people could truly break the mold and live a unique life. One such person was a man named Phocas, who was born in the Byzantine Empire around 547 CE. He was born a commoner and died an emperor—here is his story.

Strange, But Successful War Strategies—Divide Yourself And Conquer

 

The Byzantine Battle of Arcadiopolis

In the spring of 970 CE, the Byzantine Empire found itself in a precarious situation. Svyatoslav I, leader of the Rus (centered around Kiev) had conquered much of Bulgaria and was looking to acquire even more land. Other Bulgarians, still under the imperial fist of the Byzantines, saw in Svyatoslav a chance to find freedom. With a coalition army of Bulgarians, Pecheneg (Turkish Nomads) mercenaries, and his own Rus forces, Svyatoslav invaded the Byzantine province of Thrace (approximately Bulgaria and parts of Greece). With a possible force of 30,000 men, they conquered the fortified city of Philippoupolis (modern-day Plovdiv, Bulgaria), and began to raid and plunder their way toward Constantinople (modern-day Istanbul), the Byzantine Empire’s capital.

(Svyatoslav by Fedor Solntsev, 1869, via creative commons and NYPL Digital Library)

Adventures of Emperor Theophilus:

The Joust, A Prized Warhorse And The Horse Thief

(Byzantine Emperor Theophilos (r. 829-842), surrounded by dignitaries of his court. Illustration from the Madrid Skylitzes (Fol. 42v), c. 12th century, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

Fact can truly be more entertaining than fiction. John Skylitzes’ work, A Synopsis of Byzantine History: 811-1057, may have a dull title, but the history within—though sometimes exaggerated—actually contains many a historically-based story that can rival the best of fictional novels. Take, for instance, Emperor Theophilus (ruled 829-842 CE). Personally, John Skylitzes could not stand Theophilus because of religious differences (Theophilus was the last Iconoclast Byzantine Emperor to outlaw religious artwork and icons), but once the historian was done venting, he wrote a hearty chapter about Theophilus’ imperial reign, and of all the highly entertaining adventures therein.