GEORGI PACHYMERAE ANDRONICUS PALAEOLOGUS SIVE HISTORIA RERUM AB ANDRONICO PALAEOLOGO SENIORE IN IMPERIO GESTARUM USQUE AD ANNUM EJUS AETATIS UNDEQUINQUAGESIMUM.
A 1. How Emperor Andronicus managed the affairs concerning the Tochari.
1-11 Having died in this manner, Emperor Michael left his son Andronicus, who had already been crowned Augustus and was a partner in the empire with his father, compelled to take up the reins of the republic alone. He was pressed to this most of all by the concern over the Tocharian forces, which, having been summoned from their homeland according to a prior agreement, were at hand and prepared at the emperor’s nod. For they had passed the point where they could be easily persuaded to return home empty-handed. They were a bloodthirsty race, looking solely to profit and gain, and not thinking of where or from whom they might seize plunder; they had no regard for anything else, nor could they bear to hear the first mention of sound advice if anyone attempted to persuade them to subordinate their greed to justice. There was a danger that, unless an opportunity were offered them to plunder from some foreign land, they would perpetrate this upon the Roman region itself, to the great public detriment, as they were men nurtured in robbery and accustomed to having no regard for law or equity. B Being deprived of his father by death, the young emperor, then four-and-twenty years of age, justly shuddered at such an impending weight of affairs. And the horror was increased by the domestic disturbances of the republic, which had arisen from the religious scandal; whence it had come about that the emperor’s spirit was already failing in regard to the Church’s authority, even though he still persisted in submission in body and appearance.
Andronicus provided abundantly for the most urgent business of the Tocharian terror, having used the prudent counsel of many others, but especially that of Theodore Muzalon, whom his father had promoted to the dignity of Grand Logothete in the place of the deceased Acropolites. Therefore, according to his opinion, after having honored Tarchaneiotes Glabas—first from Great Papas, and then from Pincerna—with the title of Grand Constable, he set him over the Tochari, for not a little of the Roman interest was at stake concerning Lord Michael, by which they had been driven to rush out...
upon a mercenary campaign—not for the sake of any pressing war, but for the sake of the gain of the promised booty and plunder, so that their expedition might not prove empty for them, and being the more encouraged by the Emperor, from whose provisions they would also draw pay. The Emperor, therefore, having pleased them as was fitting with both words and gifts, sent them off together with those about the Despot and the Great Constable, so that they might conduct an assault yet gain from other directions as well. A He himself, having quickly and for the first time noted the month on a mandate, sent it to the Patriarch, having written it in secret, and also to the Great Tzaousios, Papy las; to the latter, he enjoined the safest guarding of the city, while to the Patriarch, he made known the Emperor’s death and that he himself would arrive at his heels; for it was impossible in any other way for the Empress to learn of what had transpired before he himself arrived to manage the lamentation, as it were, in the fitting manner. The Patriarch, indeed, happened to have learned of the tragedy even before this, and had performed the services for the Emperor’s death with lamentations, as was fitting, though it was not known at all to those about him why he was mourning. But then, having received the Emperor’s mandate from Papylas, and having lamented [the event] as was fitting, he communicated what was appropriate to him and sent him away, but provided the mandate to the writer [of this history], asking if he could guess for himself whose the month-note might be. B For it had been so closely imitated from the father’s hand that even one who knew it well could not easily discern it; it was only by a very slight scraping at the variation that he gave a hint to suspect the hand. And when the event was then made known to those who had recognized it, the Patriarch was clearly distraught, yet clearly also being comforted, hoping to gain great things from the Emperor regarding the expected elevation of the Church, since he himself was prompting it. And the love of the Emperor for him, being something great and wonderful, was a pledge for the fulfillment of what was being hoped for. He, therefore, was occupied with these things.
2. How the Emperor made his defense regarding the matters involving the Pope.
But the Emperor, having reached Constantinople after a few days, was seen turning motives over in his mind and deeply considering what he should do, and by what means the schism of the Church might be consolidated, now that the one who caused it to swell had been struck down. This was a matter not of little or casual concern, but one that was necessary, as it appeared, and of the greatest importance. For there happened to be...
the daughter of this woman, the lady of the Bulgarians, whose fate the account was already revealing. A Andrônico, who was zealous for glory and rejected the embassy to the Italians, for that single cause used his own brother Leo as a substitute for punishment, as he received the striking of the rods. Together, both of them carried those causes to the one acting as patriarch, judging it to be a terrible thing against him, as if he were the one who had taken the cause for the indignation against them.
3. How the Emperor dismissed Veccus and attached himself to Joseph.
Andronikos himself, with his aunt Eulogia introducing persuasive counsels A and urging many things—being himself, besides, moved from within—began to take up the events of yesterday and the day before, and to offer an apology to those who were in schism, as if he had acted against his father’s will and had condemned the deed, so that he might entirely belong to them, and if they thought him worthy of suffering anything, he would readily submit to the penalties as one who had sinned. And to them it seemed so, as he feigned the opinions of those who were schismatics, just as if he had suddenly fallen into a gaping pit and were asking to be lifted up by them. For the pledges through the chrysobulls and the oaths contained therein, and whatever else had happened to the emperors, clearly to him and his father, for the confirmation of the peace that had been accomplished, did not seem unlike having pits and chasms beside him, into which he thought he might fall by a slip of judgment. B Yet those who were inciting him in this direction (these were Eulogia and Theodore Mouzalon) appeared to be moved to zeal on account of what had been done, and they seemed to be seeking the restoration of the Church, but they appeared to the many to have their opinions prejudiced and to be raging against the departed one, because she [Eulogia] along with her child had been exiled to the fortress of Saint Gregory with the wife of Raoul, and he [Mouzalon] C on account of the shame of his previous punishment—a savage and disgraceful torture—which he had borne under the eyes of the emperor at the hand of Leo, the brother of Michael, as a penalty for having refused the embassy to the Italians. Both of them, however, were undoubtedly raging against the patriarch, and were now undisguisedly threatening him with destruction, claiming that he was the author of all the evils for them that had redounded from the hatred felt by the deceased Augustus.
B As, therefore, the festival of Christ’s Nativity was approaching, and it was necessary, as was the custom, for the emperor to go forth, and for the mystical liturgy to be celebrated in the palace, neither one of these things took place. And the procession, as a sign of mourning, did not occur, with the emperor standing somewhere below, and the affairs of the mystical liturgy were left undone, lest by any chance the one who was still held to be patriarch should be commemorated. And they [the emperor’s party] were resolving this by fabricating temporary excuses, though they were obviously inventing for others things that were not the case. For Eulogia was mourning the departed one according to the law of sympathy, but she was further making a pretense of mourning on account of her brother because of what had happened yesterday... D
and in regard to other holy things A, even as to the censures and punishments meted out to those who had not done well according to their hopes for him, believing that nothing could be done from that quarter to assist him, whatever it might be. Whence also, when the patriarchs had come together for [the purpose of] consolation, she, being full of grief, inquired what ought to be done for his soul. And first she showed them the matters that were being secretly plotted by the Emperor. For he even spent whole nights with Joseph, and was attempting to bring [him] back, though he was, so to speak, a corpse with but a small breath left in him.
When those around him, having been immediately persuaded, were all but urging on his restoration—some indeed as though they would thereby establish the affairs of the Church from the scandal that had been dissolved in regard to the Pope, others as though they might even more than was reasonable be exalted, and indeed [effect] the purifications of the church B and the cleansings of those [soiled] by other holy things, and [inflict] censures and punishments upon those who had, by persuading the patriarch, brought about the peace of the Church (these were they, and more especially Galestiotis, Galaktion, and Meletios, who was even called holy, and who resided in the monastery of the holy and just Lazarus, of whom the one had suffered the loss of his eyes, and the other the excision of his tongue, the one on charges of falsehood, as he claimed to have seen the Emperor using unleavened bread for the sanctification while crossing the East, the other for "water," having called the Emperor a second Julian to his face)—the Emperor, for his part, in sending his reply to Patriarch John, defended his [the Emperor’s] oversight as something brought about by force and necessity. C For the scandal [arising] from the many, which was persuading even the well-disposed to defect, and the fact that he was young and being established in authority, necessitated that he suppress what was discordant and also the opinions, as far as it was possible, of those who were taking up [the cause].
D Thus did the desire of Joseph’s associates for his restoration act, and since the assent of the very feeble old man himself had finally been obtained, the leaders of the faction that did not approve of the Latin peace, with spirits stirred, immediately pressed [their case] before Andronicus most vehemently, that he should not interpose any delay in a plan so beneficial and necessary, as they claimed. In this common work of urging the business, each followed his own diverse hopes and prayers, consistent with their varied emotions. For some, this was the sole goal: to restore the affairs of the Church to their former state by removing the scandal acknowledged by the Pope. Others, by no means content with this, raised their hopes more immoderately and thought to exalt themselves higher than was just, determining even then upon purifications of the Church as if [it were] polluted by recent acts, [as well as] purifications of images and other sacred objects, and finally severe penalties for the ecclesiastics who had procured the peace or had consented to it, confident that they would persuade Joseph of all these things if they had him as patriarch again. Such things were, above all others, being turned over in the mind by the Galestiotis, Galaktion, and Meletios—who was also called holy, residing in the monastery of the holy and just Lazarus. Of these, the former had suffered the blinding, while the latter [had suffered] the excision of the tongue, as punishment—the latter, indeed, for the falsehood by which he had rashly asserted that he himself, while traveling through the East, had seen Emperor Michael using unleavened bread in the temple and the name [of the Pope] recited among the sacred rites, and thus that he held possession of the first honor even in his new principate.
There was also another matter that the leaders of the opposing factions followed regarding this omission of the liturgies in the sacred palace chapel after the Emperor had passed away; namely, that they were acting so that the soul of the prince might meanwhile be defrauded of propitiatory rites and sacred [services], and thus they thought to deny to him, as if dead in heresy and under anathema—and as one irrevocably damned—the intercessions of the Church. Eulogia was clearly attempting to brand [him] with this ignominy, affecting a pretense of piety and mourning for the memory of the hated brother, exaggerated beyond the measure of sisterly affection, as if she wished it to appear that she was weeping for him, her own brother, not only because of his temporary death but because his soul was irreparably consigned to the Tartarus of eternal perdition. She even attempted to draw the widowed Augusta into this frame of mind, and tried to persuade her that she should hope for nothing concerning the eternal salvation of her dead husband, brazenly declaring that whatever prayers or propitiations she herself might employ or arrange for others to provide to purge the soul of the defunct emperor, all would be in vain. And this remark provided no small addition of care and grief to the Empress. Whence she, in anxiety, when the outgoing and incoming patriarchs had come together to console her, asked both most sorrowfully what they might prescribe for her to do, whereby the soul of her spouse might be helped. And this inquiry of the Augusta, not directed merely to the then-patriarch John, but even to Joseph, who had long since been removed from that dignity, stood as the first evidence of the secret machinations of Andronicus, who was plotting to restore Joseph to the patriarchal throne, insofar as he (which was not unknown to the Augusta) was laboring greatly to bring Joseph, who could scarcely breathe from his decrepit age, to manage the government of the Church once more, and in this, to persuade the dying old man, he would spend entire nights with him in endless entreaties, in which Joseph’s partisans, the leaders of the schism, were assisting him not perfunctorily, since to their reasoning and hope of rescinding the business of the concord, that plan seemed to them justly well-adapted. Therefore, when...
the empire, agitated by movements, had reached him, so that for him, initiating his reign at a tender age, it was necessary to be cautious with all diligence lest the state should chance to be embroiled in new storms besides, he saw that this would B undoubtedly come to pass unless, as far as it is right, the minds of many who were restlessly gaping for change and turmoil were appeased by him. He understood that many were being inflamed by the accounts of the people regarding the restoration of Joseph, whom they still judged to be the true patriarch, and claimed he was being hindered by unjust force from exercising the governance of the Church; whence they contended that the scandal which had recently arisen had sprung, and that tranquility would immediately return if he were restored to the throne. It was not safe for him, in the tender beginnings of his empire, to neglect the threats and the preparations for novelties of so many and such powerful men. The faction must be disarmed by removing the pretext for schism, if he wished to escape the most present danger of losing his princedom. He clearly trusted in the love for him which he had observed in John, that he was ready, for the sake of the emperor’s inviolable security, not only to agree to the patriarchal dignity, but even to pour forth his very life. Nor, indeed, ought he to grieve or be indignant that he was compelled for such necessary reasons to yield the throne for a time; to whom, in any case, the emperor pledged that he would be held in the same place of favor with him as before, with the same estimation and dignity of honor, when he should have returned to private life, regardless of who else might govern the Church in his stead. These things Andronicus ordered to be announced to Veccus by the Meliteniote chartophylax and the archdeacon, anxiously excusing the necessity which, as he said, extorted such a resolution from him against his will. Meanwhile, he himself, spending a great part of the nights with Joseph and his supporters, diligently consulted by what best method he might be restored to the patriarchal throne.
4. The Retirement of Patriarch Veccus to the Monastery of the Panachrantos.
John, for his part, being also upright, and already having had his fill of the patriarchal honor—as he had often shown by his sayings and deeds—and hoping moreover that some good might come from the restoration of Joseph (for matters would by no means have turned out as they did, had Joseph been alive, as it is possible to conjecture from many indications), since he was at once prepared to perform the sacred solemnity at the approaching feast of Christ, and to pay the honors in a sacred rite to the recently deceased Michael, as the funeral of the Augustus by custom demanded, he suddenly set aside all these things, and the day after the feast, descending from the patriarchate, he betook himself to the monastery of the Panachrantos; having obtained from the emperor those who would conduct him, lest it be argued in the judgment of God that he had deserted his post of his own accord. Although the emperor, acceding to a petition of this kind from Veccus, strove to appear as if he were not sending armed men for the purpose of offering violence, but for the sake of protection. Because, in fact, it was clear that many D among the clergy, being vehemently hostile to him, would not easily let slip the opportunity of insolently insulting the departing patriarch, the emperor professed that his only intention in adding a military escort was that Veccus might have those who would protect him from the insults of his enemies. And these things were indeed done thus on the twenty-sixth day of December.
5. The Restoration of Joseph to the Patriarchate.
In the same month, after the thirtieth day, toward evening, Joseph, being placed upon a litter and all but lifeless, while many followed on both sides and vied with one another in acclamations for his auspicious return, was borne back to the patriarchal residence with hymns and the applause of men, amid the ringing of church bells, by which the people are accustomed to be called into the church. Those of the clergy, having with difficulty performed the evening psalmody by themselves, since it was dawn and...
they were assembling in the church according to custom, found the temple closed with bars and bolts; for the usual signal for gathering by the ringing of the bells had not been given. But when they heard the cause of this novelty—namely, that it had been ordered that they should not even be allowed to enter the church of God—they stood outside, and having there performed the task of ecclesiastical prayers (for they were convinced that the solemnity of the feast which had fallen on that day, and the obligation to observe the rites as it seemed proper to them, outweighed any interdict), they finally sat down at their homes and waited, watching for what would happen and what they ought to think of those who had brought about the order.
As the day dawned, some were making ready the entrance prayers, expecting to be purified at the Great Church, while others were carrying out rites of sanctification by water, and the porches and galleries, the pedestals and columns, and even the sacred images of the great temple were being sanctified by the sprinkling of water. Therefore, Galaktion, who was blind, went about led by the hand and kept sprinkling, and that corruption of the venerable images which they supposed had been contracted by them was being cleansed by their sanctifying. Even those who were watching sought to be purified.
6. Concerning the penances imposed on those in holy orders and on the laity.
The authority for imposing these was granted to the monks, and as they saw fit, they taxed the crowds who approached for the sake of reconciliation, with either large or small offerings. Indeed, if they wished to be admitted only to the psalmody and the participation of the holy bread, a moderate price was exacted; but if a suppliant wished to be restored as far as the reception of the holy Eucharist, it was, of course, to be earned with a greater contribution. As for bishops and clerics, when they presented themselves, they were referred to the patriarch. But since he could not be approached due to illness, they themselves, as if by his judgment, pronounced what each person had to expiate with a fine or penalty. To some things the old man, though with difficulty and reluctantly, would nod his assent as suggested by them; other things they concocted with impunity and demanded in the patriarch's name as if decreed by him, increasing the severity of the punishments according to the degree of communion which each of the suppliants aimed to attain.
Thus, while these men were disturbing the Church at their own discretion under the pretext of restoration, and while the temple remained closed to all, the assembling bishops asked the ministers of these novelties for what reasons they were doing such things. To this they replied by bringing forward the patriarch, who was like a lifeless burden, and through the monk Gennadius, who spoke in his stead, they thundered forth those horrible things by which they thought their actions were defended: "Ye have bound yourselves with a most grievous crime; the holy Gospel has been violated." At his shouting, a murmur and a tumult arose from the multitude who abhorred what they had heard; wherefore, as if doubting that a message was being delivered in the name of another, the bishops, rightly considering it, inquired of the patriarch himself whether he wished such things to be said. And he denied it, even rebuking him who had spoken thus, disavowing that those things were uttered from his own mind; then with other [words]—
A Finally, they published the judgment of the patriarch and the people—both those of the Greeks and those of the Latins—and read it in the church, imposing a three-month suspension on the bishops and clergy, but for the laymen, assigning penalties according to the measure of their communion, yet lessening the degree of the censures. As for the archdeacons—I mean Meliteniotes and Metochites—because, having been sent as ambassadors by the Emperor, they had joined the Pope in celebrating the mass and had stood with him, just as here also those around John Parastron the Friars, having themselves been sent as ambassadors to the Pope, did likewise when the then patriarch Joseph was celebrating the liturgy (and it seemed acceptable, and having no prejudice, yet nonetheless for such reasons they imposed total deposition as if they had committed the greatest transgressions).
7. How and when those around Joseph received the members of the Church into communion.
Then, on the fifth of the month of Hekatombaion B towards evening, when they had sufficiently purified the temple (for the festival of the Theophany was pressing), they received the members of the Church back into the communion of psalmody. And indeed, when the hymns were finished, since it was necessary also to perform the ceremony of the hallowing of the water, they gathered around the phiale of the church—at once those men, the clergy, and the people—setting the blind Galaktion at the head of the ceremony. And with much and abundant light, candles having been given also to the Italians themselves, the rites of the festival were performed. And they performed these things, with the Emperor yielding to them to do everything as it pleased them, so that only the matters of yesterday’s storm might be settled—for the sake of which it was evident that even before this he had been pained, he who participated in authority and worked with his father, even if he did not have the means to resist at all, being strangled by the difficulties of the time. Now, those who had thus taken the clergy with them, and others who saw the Italians standing with candles—for whom, the day before yesterday, the church C had been opened only after being purified by propitiatory prayers—thought they were seeing dreams, and not looking at what was really happening. But that time had then passed, and such things were being done for the time being. For the Emperor, being a mind that loved the good, and one who would even sacrifice his own soul for the peace of the Church, allowed many things to happen contrary to his own opinion, believing only in the end, that if possible the people might have peace from the stings of dissension that had been blunted. For which reason it had been permitted to them to act, and terrible things were imposed as if they had transgressed against those in communion D with them.
The familiar intimates of his secret designs knew that he had consented to these things which were then happening, with the sovereign himself cooperating, even if he did not openly disclose them, nor did he attempt to struggle against those who were acting in a way he approved, being constrained by the difficulties of the times. Furthermore, both those who had thus taken the clergy into the society of the sacred function, and others who saw the Italians standing with candles—for whose sake, two days before, the church, having been subjected to expiations, had scarcely at length been opened after the recitation of many propitiatory prayers—thought they were seeing dreams, and not viewing things that were truly happening. But that prior time had reached its end, and things were done thus far, not to be propagated in the future. For the Emperor, his mind rejoicing in the good, and even prepared to spend his very life to ensure the peace of the Church, had allowed many of these things we have mentioned, even though they were little approved by him, looking solely toward the goal of restoring quiet to the people, [with] the stings of dissension [having been] blunted. This was the cause for him to connive at even unjust vexations, such as those [that were] undoubtedly [imposed], subjecting to heavy penalties, as if they were discovered in an unspeakable crime, those who had been forced to communicate with the Latins; who, even if they had done something nefarious in that, had an excuse for the guilt, as they had acted not by free will, but driven by an inescapable necessity; for whose sin, such as it was, it would have been more appropriate to exact penalties from others than from those very men who, gratifying the prince then dominating, had brought force to bear to do this very thing—which they were now inexorably punishing as an atrocious crime, men who indeed could only excuse the violence of the incursion then exercised and deprecate the guilt which they had contracted by forcing others to evil, if they joined themselves to those whom they were hounding, and in an equal or in a worse [condition]
A Yet this did not release the others from blame and from reproach; rather, they bore down more heavily upon him as having done wrong, and it was their primary concern and all-consuming occupation not to regard him even among the moderate. For it was necessary for him to be judged, and more so because he who had fallen from the throne was a shepherd who had been preferred to the first occupant, whether his intention was good or not—unless, of course, they wished to invalidate him, and to rub off the greatest defilement upon the rest, and to condemn those whom they had previously held as allies against him, as having slipped and become partners in a man who had fallen, even as one of the prudent men said at the time (this was Theoctistus of Adrianople): that now the judges were using wooden spits to roast him, but later they themselves would be handed over to the fire and burned—and so it came to pass later.
For this released the others, in a way, from the blame and the reproach they had incurred, for others ought to have been the ones to pay the penalty, those who had forced [them] for the sake of the emperor’s favor; they possessed one defense for their transgression and one escape from their instigation, if they themselves had also gone along with those who were forced. But these things were not yet [at issue]. Yet the cruelty still hung over the wretched men, even if for a time it was covered over by kindly words and the restraint of the patriarch, and by the truth. For to the one it seemed right to punish with the ultimate penalties as having committed the ultimate transgressions, but to the patriarch, who knew of the force used and the previous attack of the emperor—so much so that those who resisted were even accused of treason, and the dedicated were forced to submit to punishment—the acts which proceeded from force were judged excusable. B Yet he cared for the care of the sick, while they, ingratiating themselves with the bishops, laid all the blame upon the patriarch, as if he himself were not the one, when no one else would accept the honor of the throne. Yet jealousy, just as it attaches itself to the irrational, so it is also attached to the rational.
8. Concerning the synods that were held.
Then, therefore, C they ingratiated themselves with the bishops, and they ingratiated themselves in every way with Athanasius, the patriarch of Alexandria, a man of great D worth and authority, both in the thrones...
A they provided two: one empty, in honor and as a representation of Joseph, the Patriarch of Constantinople—since, being bedridden by the necessity of illness, he could not preside over the synod—and another in which the leader of Alexandria sat. And they set themselves up as being in charge of the patriarch’s office, as he was now ailing, and they convened a synod of high priests. The Great Logothete was present there, as were George of Cyprus and the rhetorician Holobolos—who had recently returned to Constantinople from the monastery of the Great Agros—and also the monk Theodosius Saponopoulos, whom the monastic life had succeeded in the position of the emperor's protonotary, along with very many others who were presiding.
They wished to scrutinize the writings, not so much out of a peaceful intent to approve what was secure and to correct what was deviant, but because scandals were being stirred up. Even if the writers held to the truth, they did not judge it necessary to examine how [these things were written], but only that dogmas had been discussed, scriptures had been expounded, and the words of the Fathers had been brought to the ears of the audience. They considered this a most grave transgression, B judging those who did not even know what heresy was, and who insisted that they had deviated in no way at all from the correct standard of faith, as having committed the greatest offenses, and they demanded professions of faith from them.
If anyone merely whispered by writing about dogmas, they were brought to face the most extreme penalties, blaming not what was written, but the writer himself. And, primarily, the Great Logothete himself, who seemed to breathe fire over matters of dogma, offered the composition to be burned—not because it was faulty, as he himself even confessed under oath before the synod, speaking immediately about writing regarding dogmas, but because it had occurred to him to write and compile passages from the Fathers that seemed to him useful for the tasks then being accomplished, [passages] which many great men had also used previously for similar cases. Yet, because they were not spoken in a time of peace, but at a time when a certain terrible wave and clamor was crushing the Church due to the uprising of the many, and at the same time because he appeared to be excelling in piety, he did not give them to the fire as the words of the Fathers, but as his own composition. Next, following this, also the [composition] of the old Great Logothete
B and the works of others in which any mention of dogmas had been detected—all were on that account condemned and committed to the flames. By these measures, having as it were constructed prejudices against the case of Veccus, they finally attacked him with a more hostile spirit, since they were eager to convict him not only of the untimely agitation of dogmas, but also of heresy. And he was undoubtedly related to that intemperance of which we just spoke, through an excessive curiosity to scrutinize mysterious truths which, hidden as they were in the writings of the Fathers, would have been better honored silently and submissively, as being superior to human understanding; but his accusers strove for something further, trying to demonstrate that he had, by this investigation, been driven by such excessive impetuosity into heresy. For that which it was established that the Fathers affirmed while explaining the theology of the Holy Spirit—namely, that He proceeds from the Father through the Son—he drew further than that, albeit within tolerable limits, so that by the example of the Latins' addition he might diminish the resentment against the Greek Fathers. Yet, being driven by the itch of his zeal into deeper investigations of the Divinity, which are inaccessible to human minds, he imprudently entangled himself in quarrels that were certainly not to be endured. Wherefore, I think it worth the labor to relate here something more clearly about his whole act, his plans, and the process of his doubtful undertaking, so that it may be understood by what accusations he was pierced—not C indeed for just causes—being found guilty, he who could only be seen as related to blame to the extent that he alone, with no one else daring to cooperate with him in this venture, did not hesitate to attempt to cross the boundless ocean of theology in the small skiff of human intellect, with the desire for peace acting as a kind of sail, as he indeed thought, to be carried by a favorable tailwind into the desired harbor, trusting, as he used to say, that his plan would certainly be praised by posterity, if the present age was less willing to approve it. D Therefore, by reading more attentively the writings of the saints, he observed that in most of them it is often said that the Holy Spirit is poured forth, shines out, is granted, and goes forth from the Father through the Son. And he found that "proceeding" was first affirmed by Saint Maximus, and then also by the most theological Damascene; consonant with whom he also clearly perceived that the great Tarasius, with the entire Seventh Synod, had discoursed in the confession of faith to the Eastern patriarchs. Having found in addition that Nicetas of Maroneia, who was also endowed with the dignity of chartophylax and was later raised to the see of Thessalonica, and after him Nicephorus Blemmydes, had studied and published writings confirmed by the testimonies of the Scriptures in defense of the Italians, and that Photius himself acknowledged that Ambrose and Augustine and a third, Jerome, had thus taught regarding the Spirit with the addition "from the Son," but that these Fathers, as Romans—and not as Greeks—had approved the addition: this exception of Photius seemed to Veccus to be excessively weak; and not as Greeks did they write and...
A approve this. For how could it seem consistent for the same Father to be extolled as a Greek at one moment, and then to be accused of heresy as a Latin the next? And what B kind of men were they? First, Jerome, trained by Damasus and a contemporary of Basil the Great; then Augustine of Hippo, commended by the Sixth Synod, which declares that man to be of blessed memory; and third, Ambrose, whose acts are celebrated with great praise among us in the Church. From these things he concluded that it seemed neither modest nor prudent nor plausible for Photius to have spoken in such a way about such great Fathers, nor for him to have spoken with the authority to persuade. Veccus therefore took the books of all these C men into his hands and, with careful attention, suffered something human, indulging a bit too much in that ambitious desire to align himself with the opinion of such famous authors—a venture that no one else in this age would dare to expedite. And easily foreseeing that the minds of the people were at that time preoccupied with another opinion, and that the reputation he would gain from this act would be more likely to lead to a precarious and uncertain fall than to a praiseworthy undertaking, he gathered testimonies more diligently for his own defense, and with great labor collected from here and there, from the long writings of all the ancient saints, brief statements pertinent to his case. And now indeed he found Athanasius saying: D “It could not be that in the order of the Trinity the Spirit should be known as not progressively existing from God through the Son, but effectively or productively, as they say.” Now he found Basil the Great: “The Truth suggests that the Spirit is indeed posterior to the Son in origin.” Furthermore, he found that the reason for this affirmation, whereby the Holy Spirit is said to be posterior in origin to both the Father and the Son, is clearly expressed in some books, while in others it is omitted or only obliquely insinuated. Elsewhere, he found Gregory of Nyssa dividing the concepts regarding God in such a way that one must believe in a cause and that which is from a cause; and then, of that which exists from a cause, we understand a further distinction, so that one thing is immediately from the First, and another is through that which is immediately from the First. And again, at the end of the first book of the *Antirrhetica*: “The Son is second from the Father, who is the Cause, and the Spirit is likewise second from the Son according to the rationale of the cause.” Elsewhere, he found Great Cyril saying that the Spirit exists substantially from both, that is, from the Father through the Son; and again, calling the Son the mouth of the Father, while declaring the divinity of the Spirit in such a way as to indicate to us His own existence through the mouth. He also discovered Epiphanius affirming the same things in many books and often in each one. It therefore seemed good to Veccus to collect these and more, and to compile and expound the theology of the Fathers in written commentaries, as he supposed, in order to soften or purge, as much as he could, that harsh accusation of the Italians, which was spreading by a certain contagion to those who communed with them through the recent mention of the Pope's name among the sacred rites. Fearing again that he might be accused of audacity, he added to those dissertations of his on true doctrine some fearsome oaths, by which he strove to persuade men that he was not alleging these things either to condemn our own people or to argue that they were lacking, nor that he was joining himself to the Latins as though they were speaking better, having spurned his own.
A For he did not provide B any cause for them, nor should it be overlooked—not even the slightest—that he held the opinion that the Son is a cause alongside the cause of the Spirit from the Father. Although, when he began the discussion moderately—specifically when someone opposed the cause to him, arguing that since many things are said concerning God, some of which even carry an impression of malice, we accept the words as being those of saints while we do not accept what is implied—he said, “Tell me, O you men, the Father is perfect God, and the Son is perfect God, and the Paraclete is perfect God. Do we therefore defile theology because three Gods are implied?” For the time being, in order to avoid the accusation, he increased the definition that is read in the church on the day of Orthodoxy with three chapters, C adding an anathema D upon the third, namely, whoever states that the Son is a cause, or a co-cause with the Father, of the Spirit, or who admits to having communion in knowledge with those who speak and believe in this way. These things he said; these things he wrote. “If, however, anything pertains,” he says, “to the... but in order that the offense might be healed—not by the Italians, of course (for as to them, even if they are forgiven for all their offenses, the act of daring to add the word to the Symbol remains the greatest offense), but for those who communicate with them for the sake of peace and the restoration of the ancient state of affairs. And he further countered the transposition of the prepositions A *ex* (from) and *diá* (through), wherever it might also be found in texts concerning the Son. For he says that the holy *hoplotheca* (armory)—which is a book counted among the genuine works of the Church—teaches this. He did this wishing to make the addition of the Italians equal to our own. And finally, the finishing touch of the daring act: because he found the most theological Damascene in the thirteenth of his theological chapters saying, “And through the Word the producer of the enuntiatory Spirit,” and interpreting *proboleus* (producer) as *aitios* (cause)—for he claimed the word could be taken with no other meaning—and through the Word *proboleus*...
CONCERNING THEODORE METOCHITES
...signified nothing else for the writer in his first contemplation, he protested. He wished only to purge the crime, not that one proper to the Latins, to which he admitted they had slipped by attempting to add to the Symbol, sinning most gravely against discipline, though not by straying from the faith; but the crime of heresy, which, if it were thought to persist among the Latins, would undoubtedly redound also upon the Greeks communicating with them. Therefore, he claimed he had consulted the works for his own Greeks and deserved well of them, since he had thus shown that they had done nothing impious, given that for the sake of the good of peace and the restoring of the ancient state of the affairs of the Church, they had agreed to enter into communion with those whom it was established were pure from every stain of heresy. Furthermore, he strove mightily to prove the equivalence and interchangeable notion of the prepositions *ex* and *diá*, contending to persuade people that whenever they were used for the theology of the eternal Son being handed down, they were to be understood in such a way that both signified one and the same thing; and he said this was clearly taught in the work whose name is the *sacra hoplotheca* or sacred armory, which book is wont to be counted among the authentic and sound doctrines of the Church. He did this in order to render the Italians' addition more tolerable and less odious to our people. Finally, what was the summit of his audacity occurred when he found the supreme theologian the Damascene, in the thirteenth of his theological chapters, saying concerning the Father: "And through the Word [he is] the producer of the enuntiatory Spirit," and, taking the word as implying the force of a principle and cause—contending, indeed, that this word could be taken in no other meaning—and thus affirming that the Father is, through the Word, the principle or cause of the Spirit, he gave grounds for an accusation against himself that was by no means negligible, since it does not seem a light or vulgar error; for beyond the force of principle and cause, which is recognized by all to be in the Father with respect to the Spirit, to attribute to the Son also the rationale of a principle and cause with respect to the same Spirit [is wrong]. Nor was he unaware of the odium of the statement, which, in order to soften, he inserted a certain guise of moderation, and as if for a convenient turning point, he articulated it to a discussion otherwise rather rigid, appearing of his own accord to the mind of the reader—who, from the cited sentences of the Fathers, was prone to collect that the opinion prevailing among the Greeks today was truly false and contrary to the doctrine of the ancient Church, by which the Holy Spirit is recognized by them as proceeding *only* from the Father, whereas the rationale of principle and cause, attributed by their own holy Fathers to the Son with respect to the Spirit, seems to demonstrate that He proceeds also from Him, according to the mind of the Latins. For against this, he wrote many things claiming that it must necessarily be affirmed of God, thus overwhelming with irrefragable authority, from which it clearly appears that evils follow concerning Him and things by no means to be admitted; which consequence the Orthodox do not admit, even though they accept the premises from which it is inferred. “Therefore, we too,” Veccus said, “here also accept the clear testimonies of the Fathers, but we do not accept what appears to follow from them.” And he insisted on an argument B drawn from the Greeks themselves, saying, “Do you not, therefore, also say and confess that it is rightly said that the Father is perfect God, and the Son is likewise perfect God, and the Paraclete is perfect God? C Shall we therefore stain theology with that false and detestable corollary, because it seems to be inferred from there that there are three gods?” These things he said, which it was plain to see he had prepared astutely as a subterfuge for his crime. To which end, he also increased with three chapters the decree on the faith customarily read in the church on the day called Orthodoxy, adding to it a D triple anathema against one who would assert as a dogma of the faith that the Son is the cause of the Spirit, one who might say that the Son is a co-cause of the Spirit with the Father, and finally, one who, knowing this, would communicate and refuse to disown any who spoke and believed thus.
A If, however, any man should dare to say or think that this is a matter of causality, he will indeed be asserting what is implied by the logos, but he will certainly be accused of rashness.
10. How Veccus, being summoned to the synod, arrived.
These are the things [said and written] concerning Veccus in truth, and nothing more. For this reason, we have deliberately expanded the details of the history, so that it might be clear how and for what reasons the entire Church was already on the verge of suffering the consequences of such a great evil. In my opinion, it would have been prudent not to stir up anything regarding these matters at all. But yet, those who spurred him on were also to blame; for, wishing to defend himself against his accusers and to escape the charge of heresy, he fell into the very trap of heresy, rightly caught in his own snare. Now, they had this one aim in view: to force John into submission to Joseph, and to seek to persuade him B to ask for pardon from him for having dared to ascend the throne while he was still alive, and for his failure to accept the terms of peace, as he would not admit [the idea of a] triarchy, but instead tried to demonstrate through writings that the action was beyond reproach. Whence also, day by day, they were establishing a full synod, and with the frequent clanging of church bells, they were gathering together crowds of people, and if perchance anyone might be persuaded, they were stirring up the passions of the people against those whom they suspected of having shifted from the right path. C And they very fervently insisted that John be sent down to be brought to trial.
Frequent messages were indeed being sent to him, demanding that he appear to give an account of what he had written, and these were being shown to the multitudes. He, fearing the irrationality of the impulses of the many, hesitated for a long time and put off his arrival before them; for it was clear that the danger was great if the multitude could be persuaded that impiety had occurred, so that they would not remain in their established state of mind, but would turn with their full fury upon the one they considered responsible. But the Great Logothete, having more gravely suppressed the agitation of the crowd—as it would seem that if the crowd committed any disorder against D him, they would be offending the Emperor himself, who was thought to have authorized the actions against him—and...
their opinions were confirmed when the Emperor, who was A himself physically infirm, [...]
11. How Veccus was confined to Prusa.
Not long after, they persuaded the Emperor to confine to Prusa him with whom they had seemingly made their peace. The Emperor therefore appointed men to escort him there, having assigned pensions for his sufficient sustenance. Furthermore, the Emperor would show familiarity toward those who, in the name of Joseph, were administering the Church, admitting them as often as they wished, and freely taking the time to listen to and expedite whatever they requested.
Those who had thus swayed the petition with great weight, but had received him kindly in other respects, led him before Joseph and persuaded him to be appeased by showing repentance, as if he were truly becoming ill-disposed. Then they gave him a petition to sign, which contained a confession of the right faith, the rejection of whatever had been falsely chosen, and finally, the abdication of the very priesthood itself; and having treated him with the expected kindness, they sent him away. [P 20] When Joseph later learned of the force applied to the man of right belief regarding the abdication, he judged it to be uncanonical and unjust.
A And he also confirmed those opinions of the speakers with a predisposition of heart and by letters, the greatest and primary point of which was that the departed should never be deemed worthy of honorable memory, nor of psalmody, nor of burial. Thus, then, stood these matters, and the emperor, thinking he had rid himself of these difficulties, considered that he had set everything right. But that was a dream.
12. Concerning the Arsenites and the illness of Joseph.
For the Arsenites, finding—[P 21] B having taken advantage of the favor of the times—that they could come forth from their hiding places everywhere, and with the emperor relaxing his stance in the hope of bringing them to peace, they began to infiltrate the crowd. Placing more confidence in Andronikos from Sardis, whom they expected to arrive at any moment, and asserting that Joseph was under an excommunication from Patriarch Arsenios, they not only shunned his communion as a defilement, but also persuaded many to flee from it, so that more were added to them daily, and from the few who had appeared at first, they became many. But as long as Joseph— C being in a sickly state of body—held [the patriarchate], they had very little opportunity with the emperor. For the followers of Joseph, knowing from long experience that they were irreconcilable, and knowing that while they themselves held Joseph as patriarch, those others did not even deem him worthy of Christian communion—and for these reasons judging an agreement impossible—they would pre-empt the emperor, testifying to the worst things about them, and saying that they were splitting the Church, which caused him no small anxiety. But when the patriarch's illness grew stronger, and he was now so utterly wasted that he was expecting death, and for this reason was requesting to resign his ministry, and a letter of resignation was being prepared, those of his party grew faint; but those others gathered in such a multitude that they caused even the most courageous to fear, and to consider their influence necessary, and to deem them worthy of greater consideration. The emperor having inclined toward them, the multitude of them prevailed greatly over the followers of Joseph. The leaders of that host, on one side, were John Tarchaneiotes, the emperor's own cousin (for he was the youngest of the three sons of Martha), with whom were his sisters—
namely, Theodosia and Nostongissa—and from there, it was rather on his account that the circumstances A regarding the aforementioned Hyacinth were brought about. They also had the former leader of the Sardians, who frequently made visits to the emperor—for John, though a relative, was nonetheless performing the tasks of zeal with the greatest precision, as he thought, and he condemned most of those things concerning Hyacinth [P 22] and separated himself from them in many ways. Because of this, that man paved a way of boldness for them, so that they might have something to say which was safe.
XIII. Concerning the death of Joseph and the events of that time.
In the meantime, as the month of Cronios (March) was beginning, Joseph, worn out by disease and old age, passed away, and his corpse was given for burial in the monastery of Saint Basil. The emperor, however, having been relieved of him, attempted with the greatest impetus to win over the Arsenites, and indeed, by relaxing the access to himself, he tried with all sorts of words. For the internal wounds from the Josephites, even when they were not present, were inflicting stings B and causing them both fear and suspicion, and questioning them about everything; and Patroclus appeared to Joseph, in appearance, out of fear that those around him might be overlooked lest they form a schism, but, as some suspected, out of the greatest concern for his own person, lest the circumstances of his coronation be blamed, as he would be seen as altogether unholy and bearing the defilement of excommunication. Nevertheless, he was very much winning over their minds, on the one hand by feigning friendliness with his words, and on the other by bestowing upon them sufficiently of those things which were for their sustenance. And they, for their part, were healing the suspicions of the emperor as best they could, but among themselves they maintained—as if they were separated justly and by ways stirred by the divine will—that they were looking toward signs from God and wonders. And, as they sought a temple for prayer for themselves, if only anywhere there was one from ancient times where the practices customary to priests had been performed, so that it would not be tainted by the, as they supposed, defilement of Arsenius—which had occurred later, after the patriarch—the temple of all the saints was given to them, which was well-endowed with size and beauty, at once for the reception of those arriving [P 25] and also for no ordinary consolation C and delight, having been closed from of old, as... D
and not to remember many things, if indeed anything happened there A in those sacred rites. Since, therefore, those gathered there by faithful guards—so that no one of those who were to them out of communion might enter unnoticed—were performing their assemblies, and the emperor, by sending frequently, provided the impression of having their affairs in great concern, they, taking boldness further toward the things long ago performed at Chalcedon, as the argument holds, brought their consideration to the body of the beautiful-virgin and martyr Euphemia, and indeed they desired to show that their own affairs—by the body of a saint dead long ago—were held to be divine will; and at the same time they demanded that, upon showing this, as they hoped, the others should attend to them and be persuaded, even in whatever they might say and do. The emperor is persuaded by these, and he gives to them who asked B the body of the Damascene and divine Father John; but so that no trickery might be practiced upon the expected miracles, or indeed that something might be suspected to have been acted out (for they wanted to entrust to the body their own documents that were to be placed upon it), the emperor immediately orders another, larger case to be prepared, and that both the body and the case itself be secured with locks and seals, so that not even the most skillful man, after the manner of Daedalus, could attempt or even be able to do anything whatsoever. However, he provided himself ready, if the document were taken to the sacred hands and placed at the feet, to perform what was written without doubt. While these things were being done, they also occupied themselves with fasts and all kinds of prayers and all-night hymn-singing; but the emperor, either by himself or upon another’s reminding him, and suspecting for his own sake, as it seemed, [fearing] lest they be led to dispute concerning the empire itself and the inquiry regarding it (for these things also were said to be what they were seeking), and being displeased at this, he suddenly took back his agreements, and sending—by a cast of a potsherd, as they say—he prevents the attempt, checking the thing suspected by many, C saying to them that if we do not deem it right to entrust matters to our own thoughts, but to seek the counsel from above (for so it is indeed worthy), it is necessary for the signs of old to cease, now that piety has been spread abroad, and to have the writings of the Fathers from which also... D
we are sufficiently instructed as to what might be acceptable to God and what might guide us to upright ways. For we know that to that rich man in the Gospel, asking that someone return from the dead to admonish his brothers, the divine answer was that they had Moses and the prophets, by whom A they could be sufficiently admonished and instructed. In this way, the Arsenites having been repulsed from their undertaking, the Emperor, being inclined toward the side of Joseph as being straighter, nevertheless did not altogether reject the Arsenites; for the multitude around them made him care all the more about them.
14. How the Emperor, not rejecting the Arsenites, but rather treating them generously for the sake of peace, promoted the Cypriot to the patriarchate.
Therefore, having knowingly decided to walk the middle path, so as to neither offend these nor yet receive those by allowing what was sought by them (which was, in a word, the complete transformation of the Church), he chose as patriarch George from Cyprus, a man reared in learning and one who bore the seal of the patriarch Joseph, B having assumed the position of first-apostalarios at court—a position he held by the seal of the patriarch Joseph, who, while he lived, had marked him with a sure character of approval and favor—and by thus promoting him, the Emperor felt he was gaining the favor of the followers of Joseph. Yet at the same time, he thought he was thereby obliging the Arsenites and hoping to make them more inclined to assent to reconciliation, because he would not allow ecclesiastical matters to be settled according to the decrees of Joseph.
Moreover, Andronicus was far from leaving the election of the Cypriot to the free suffrages of the bishops, and he did not even admit such a plan in the first deliberation, C as it was a line of action altogether too precarious and uncertain of outcome. But considering elsewhere the elevation of a private man to the patriarchal throne, attempted without the suffrages of those who had any right to such an election, he understood it would entirely lack the appearance of valid authority among the people; so, as for the defectiveness of the proceeding, hoping that however it was begun, it would eventually grow stronger through use and time, to the extent that it seemed necessary to initiate it with impunity, he concealed it in the beginning. He summoned certain of the electors—those whom he hoped, from their manner of life, would be more amenable and flexible to his will—one by one, D and shared his counsel with them, assuring them that it was also safe for them, and at the same time he accounted their yielding as equivalent to a vote. Upon these matters, he also received the opinion of Athanasius, formerly of Sardis—or rather of Andronicus, whom the Emperor addressed in writing as "father"—and from that point on, he smoothed over most of the complications of that specific elevation of the patriarchate, so that even the patriarch himself later deferred to receive the blessing from him, not so much out of need as out of flattery and intense, inescapable subjection, in order to have his sufficiency.
A And he trusted in it as firm and definitive for the votes. Since it was necessary that the greater things be accomplished, as was the custom, and the archbishops were being belittled (and how could they not be, when they were not even deemed worthy of the votes alone?), they turned to one of the bishops of Cozymes, who had been sent on a mission of embassy from the Western regions, and who was considered pure regarding the things done long ago as one foreign to our affairs—a "sweet elbow," as it is called (since there were some, as it was said, who knew him completely, as one who served the great lord Philip, about whom we have already written, both while he was alive in a priestly manner, and when, once he was slain, his head lay upon a golden platter; thus, it seemed to his wife Phrantzaena that the funeral hymns for the purpose of remembrance should be performed, and yet they entrusted to him the ceremony for the one who was to be patriarch). This man, in the same month of Kronios [March], took him and brought him into the monastery of the Forerunner, known as "The Rock," along with a few others. Finding a temple in an orchard—which seemed to be unused—he performed the necessary rites there, making him a monk, and then a deacon from being a reader. On the same day, the emperor also declared him patriarch. From then on, that man, having the way prepared for him through suggestions to act in the things B fitting to him, hesitated regarding the student of Acacius—a man who was pious and observant of many things, but who was suspected of wavering regarding the events of yesterday—[P 26] a man also pious in every way and simple in character, who had been placed among the spiritual ones by the previous patriarch. Together with the bishop of Cozymes, they cast their votes for him to be the presiding prelate of Heraclea in Thrace, and they enjoined the bishop, as the time dictated, to ordain him as metropolitan. The divine temple of Old Eirene, the holy and mystical table having been thoroughly cleansed before and sanctified with certain prayers, saw his ordination. He himself, in turn, afterwards ordained the patriarch first as priest, and then, on the bright feast of Palm Sunday, as archbishop.
Deeming it not inappropriate to relate here certain points more distinctly regarding this ordination.
15. The ordination of Patriarch Cyprian, and the matters concerning it.
The holy table of the Great Church had been purified A with prayers and sanctifications. Gathered around the one to be ordained were those who had cast their lot with the schismatics—men ignorant of the rites being performed, yet appearing to be consumed by zeal. Evidence of this was the fact that they knew nothing at all, not even the order of the ordination, nor even the sanctuary itself; in consequence of which they were in danger of overlooking the precise observance of these things. For their aim was to prevent members of the clergy from being present or casting their eyes upon the proceedings, whoever those clergy might be. But the necessity of what was being done—so that the rites might somehow be successfully accomplished—compelled them to recruit one of the clergy, and, most importantly, the ecclesiarch, who remained within the sanctuary itself, to assist them by performing and teaching the rites. And so, for the B present time, it seemed sufficient to them that, provided they observed the general guidelines, the rest would be maintained.
But the clergy of the church were excluded entirely, even the Great Logothete himself, who—with no one hindering him, but judging his own absence to be appropriate for the things taking place—stood near the gate, far off, and could barely see; and his stance showed that he considered himself unworthy due to the unworthiness of those present, and [he did so] out of a goodness of spirit. When the service was finished, and the church’s pyxis had been made sufficient with three pre-sanctified loaves—enough for the three days of Holy Week—the patriarch went from there to meet the emperor to celebrate the feast with him according to custom. But they were once again excluded C from the holy services, as they held the assessments of Joseph as nothing. The second day dawned, and the church was opened to the patriarch’s men, but for the clergy the temple remained inaccessible. The third day arrived, D and...
it was handled in the same way. When the fourth day came, they seemed to have decided to remit the penalty of interdiction for the clergy and no longer keep them from the holy offices; however, they first demanded from them a certain assent to some of their proposals. Since many of the clergy did not immediately comply, but remained in deliberation, fearful at the consultation, and some even openly refused, the legitimate hour for the celebration of the Liturgy of the Presanctified, which is customary on such a day, passed by during these altercations. Finally, late in the day, after some sort of arrangement had been reached, they ordered a great number of those from the common people who were beholden to them—those thought to embrace their opinions and decrees with the greatest zeal—to be ranged in a double row on either side, to the right and left of the Beautiful Gate. D Having then opened the doors, they gave the ones standing outside access, on the condition that they would prostrate themselves on the threshold to beg for forgiveness, and thus be judged worthy thereafter for admission to the synaxes. While this was taking place, the vesper hymns were being chanted; when these were finished, and with nighttime shadows already falling, the church was dismissed. The holy liturgy, which according to the received rite should have been performed on that day, was omitted—I know not whether because, as I have said, its hour had passed, or rather because those who had just begun to be introduced into the temple did not yet seem sufficiently purified of their ancient offenses to be partakers of the holy fragment; the latter suspicion is rendered more likely by what occurred on the following day. Thus, on that occasion, everyone withdrew to their own homes in this fashion.
A When the fourth day of the fragments arrived, and what went on was later known, they were at a loss as to what they were even now intending to concede to them, since they could not agree among themselves regarding their opinions, but were in a state of prolonged indecision. As a result, the hour of the Liturgy of the Presanctified passed by; having with difficulty positioned a crowd on either side—a multitude that seemed to be counted among the zealots—they provided in their midst, by the other side of the Beautiful Gate, for those passing through the Church to fall down and ask for forgiveness, and thus be deemed worthy of joining in the assembly. When, therefore, they had finished the evening hymns by the light of a lamp, having overlooked the liturgy—I know not whether on account of the time, which did not allow for it, or rather because those who had been granted the holy fragment did not yet deem themselves worthy of sanctification, as the next day showed—everyone was dismissed to their homes.
B When the liturgy of Holy and Great Thursday was being performed, and they were present, those men, wishing to mislead them regarding the sanctification, secretly sent men to take bread from the marketplace and, having broken it into small pieces, distributed it to those who were ignorant of it, as if it were holy bread, so that they might be filled with a more profound grief. Nevertheless, that event also seemed bearable in comparison with what was hoped for in the future, and they bore the present evils, expecting greater ones, afflicted not so much by the present things due to their experience, as by the anticipated things due to their fear. For present pain, once it has befallen men who are naturally capable of bearing even the unbearable, grieves and troubles the one who has experienced the hardships, but is naturally dissolved through the consolation of the many; yet when a future thing is feared, it provides the one who is to experience it with an uncontrollable worry. C These things, therefore, led them to bear the present evils as best they could, but a terrible fear of what was to come also led them on, and the pain of the future made the present seem bearable in comparison to that fear. These were the things that happened, and the mistress of feasts arrived, during which it was necessary for those of the Church, being indeed Christians, to be bound together by the kiss of peace. And so the archpriests were summoned, and the clerics were summoned, and gathered together on the first and mistress day [of the week], along with the holy kisses, just as the...
A time and duty demanded, each for his part declaring his brotherly love toward the others.
16. Concerning the star that appeared at midday.
But what was done then was nothing but a farce, a ridiculous fiction presented as if on stage; this was indicated by the appearance of a star, contrary to custom, in the daytime—a star which those skilled in such things maintain was the star of Saturn—to say nothing of the dream seen by one of the archpriests, in which it seemed to him that as all were sitting in a major synod, that long row of seats was suddenly and unexpectedly broken apart, and all were indecently thrown to the ground and lay there, drawing the pity of the many who were looking on. But let us refer more distinctly to the phenomenon of the star. For in the middle of the day, with the sun shining, at the beginning of April, when the sun, entering the vernal hinge, is seen more clearly than before as the winter fogs and clouds are dispelled, the star of Saturn clearly shone forth sparkling in the middle of the sky. Sparkling, I say: for although it does not escape me that it is denied that the planets sparkle on account of their greater proximity to the earth, yet it did sparkle on that occasion, whether because, having been positioned by chance at the apogee or the highest apsis of its sphere, it had attained a distance from the terrestrial globe that was sufficient for sparkling in the view of those observing from the earth; or whether it chanced to sparkle at such a time by accident, because the eyes of those looking—struck by the rays of the sun glowing nearby and thus forced to blink—attributed the sparkle to the star that was seen, when it should more truly have been attributed to the weakness of their own eyes, trembling from the force of the full solar radiance. However that may be, some interpreted this portent as a prosperous omen, for they conjectured that it signified that a happy light was B about to shine upon them, and that every dark and dim thing was to be driven away by the presence of the patriarch who would now take up the reins of the Church. But the more wise, considering the portent as a sign of the destruction of the greatest men into nothingness and of the corruption of the dignity with which their Church had hitherto flourished, predicted, I think more truly, that the exaltation of that most high planet threatened the heads of the most eminent men, and that the freezing, grim nature of the Saturnian star warned them generally of most sad winters of calamities, by the icy rigor of which they would soon be frozen; and this was immediately proven by events.
17, 18. Concerning the condemnation and deposition of the prelates at Blachernae. Concerning the blood, as it was thought, that fell from heaven.
[P 50] For on the Monday of the week which they call "Diakinesimos" [Bright Week], immediately following the day of the Resurrection, an edict of the emperor is proposed, and Athanasius, who had been a monk up to that point, is transformed into the prelate of Andronicus [Sardis]; he is not only decreed and proclaimed Bishop of Sardis, but is also named father and arbiter of the emperor’s confessions. Although I have indeed heard from men who are, on account of their highest piety, completely beyond any exception or suspicion of lying, that these titles were not conferred upon him by others, but were usurped and openly boasted of by the man himself, who arrogantly paraded himself while also claiming that he had been preserved by Providence as an avenger of the divine Will, which had formerly been injured by nefarious acts, for which a penalty—now at last through his efforts—ought to be paid. In which it was both miserable and unexpected that those who themselves had yielded to the times and were consequently accomplices in that same
A guilt, if there were any, should divide the lots with such an iniquitous distinction as that of a single class of men, so that they might wish some of them to be immune from punishment with themselves, while against others they would unleash this savage and wrathful avenger. For while it pleased these men that the things which had been decreed yesterday and the day before concerning the Pope should be retracted and reformed to their pristine state, as being—to use their own language—against the canons, he, on the contrary, burned with an ardent zeal to punish without mercy those things which were formerly denounced as public sins: first, the deposition of John, son of the Emperor Lascaris; second, the removal of Arsenius from the patriarchal throne, because he unjustly bore the fact that the legitimate heir had been removed from the succession to the empire; and third, his own descent from the pontifical rank to the monastic life, to which he complained he had been forced because he did not approve of those things. Yet, whatever the envy of both times was, it equally burdened the overseers and those who were the arbiters of affairs, as well as any others. Whence they manifestly rushed against their own precedents and prejudices in this matter, permitting and willing that such a severe vengeance be prepared for those who had shared the same crime with them, while they deemed themselves fair to flourish, secure and ruling, beyond every risk of trial. For would it not have been enough for these men, had they been moved by zeal—as they wished to appear—only because the right of the Byzantine see had been violated by the recognition of the Pope's primacy, to have cooperated in this very matter and to have obeyed the patriarch, being Greeks and prelates subject to the Constantinopolitan patriarchate? Why, then, was it necessary, as if distrusting him, to seek another, and as if to bring him into order by substituting someone else? B Nothing, indeed, were they seen to do less while they despised the Cypriot, who was striving with however sharp a study to amend the things recently done, and instead of him imposed Chalazas upon the Church, a man riled and burning with hatred—kindled by long delay—to pursue the quarrels of a time nearly obliterated, and to cast those who were already old men, if any survived, into the same harsh lot of common, and indeed atrocious, punishment along with youths and those who had fallen more recently, for the guilt in their youth that he himself called out, once the sentence of his monstrous plan was laid bare as soon as time permitted.
But to dismiss these complaints and lay out the matter itself: the emperor’s edict is published openly, honoring Chalazas with the title of spiritual father of the Augustus, and ordering that whatever he might decree should be ratified. Furthermore, Michael Strategopoulos, who was later adorned with the dignity of protostrator, was delegated to represent the person of the emperor. The place assigned for the assembly, at which the patriarch himself was also to be present, was the temple of the Theotokos located in Blachernae. It was also determined, beyond other things, that whoever should oppose any decree whatsoever of that synod should be held guilty of lèse-majesté. C Presiding, then, were both the patriarch and the bishop of Sardis, together with very many of those who, on the occasion of the condemnation and secession of Arsenius, had long since cut themselves off from the communion of the others. Sitting opposite them were the royal ministers, sent to execute inexorably whatever vengeance the synod might decree for the acts of the accused, both recent and old, which were then seen as blameworthy. Then the prelates who were accused were introduced one by one to speak in their own defense, being cited by name. And nothing else was heard there but, “Let this one or that one be led away.” Soon, a violent accusation was pressed against each one to his face;
A for many of the accusers were monks, who constituted the sum of the crime in this very fact—that, as they complained, they had suffered unjust persecution from these men. Suddenly the judge, eyeing the accused sternly, said, “Let him be taken away; he is surely impious and worthy of evil,” the assessors shouted in agreement. At these words, the imperial guards who were present dragged the condemned man outside, bound hand and foot in ignominy, while the monk-accusers in the meantime partly devoted the condemned men to curses with a loud voice, and partly did not refrain their cruel hands from striking the hapless men and tearing their sacred cowls, which they reproachfully claimed were unworthy to be worn by them. While such things were being done throughout that week, with no one able to escape the snare of cruelty extended on every side, it was discovered by no obscure signs that the patriarch bore these things with an unjust spirit. Yet he, however much he was gnawed by grief and inward indignation to see what was happening, nevertheless followed those who took the lead, assenting in appearance to their decrees, but privately condemning and detesting their monstrous decisions, to such a degree that he did not hesitate to call their B synod, in private among trusted ears, a nefarious conventicle. Finally, when those who did not present themselves of their own will were not, as they hoped, dragged away by the imperial ministers, they were seized with a desire to see Theodore of Cyzicus himself also sitting in the row of the accused. Therefore, they ordered the guards to bring him. But he, certain not to appear, had hidden himself as safely as he could in the monastery of the Prodromus, waiting for the storm to pass while under cover. The reason for him and the others to decline the summons was not so much the danger of trial or the ignominy of condemnation or deposition from their rank, as it was the fear of the intolerable insults by which they had learned from the experience of others that they would be disgraced in public by the vilest little men. C Therefore, those sent by the synod seized Theodore where he was found in his hiding place. But he, obdurate, resisted like a limpet clinging to a rock. The guards, unequal to the task while dragging him, doubled their force by calling in others, and increased it yet more as they summoned still others. Wrestling with all their might to drag him to the detested tribunal, he slipped from their hostile hands and entered the inner sanctuary of the temple, and having obtained what he thought was the inviolable asylum of the sacred table, he announced from there through the ecclesiastical ministers (for it is their right to enter that place) to the guards that, whatever they might attempt, he would by no means depart from there. Wherefore they, having spent the day in vain on these things, were forced toward evening to return with their task unfinished; and when they reported to the synod what had happened, the one who sat as judge, being struck, said, “Truly, the idle labor of so much time spent around the Cyzicene has been wasted uselessly, which would have sufficed for resolving the cases of many others.” And having said these things he stood up, having set a rule—a formula for the patriarch that he should keep in punishing others in like manner. Thus, D then, after the former had been condemned in their absence as well as the rest, this one advantage they obtained: that they were not deposed with ignominy. Toward this, those who were deposing them appeared sympathetic. [P 32] In the month of Panthius, as it was beginning, at a time when every tree and everything rising from the earth was in leaf, drops of blood fell from the heavens. As many of these as fell upon the ground, either being sucked up by the absorbent surface or confused with the earth by a natural, not entirely dissimilar color, did not present any perception to the eyes, but vanished unobserved. But those which were caught by the leaves of budding plants, or by rocks, or by veils and the texture of garments, painting the subject matter with distinct spots, clearly presented their nature to be observed. To me, indeed, to say without doubt that those other events happened because of these is not a matter of certain faith.
What the office of a historian demands, however, I shall not conceal. It seemed to some that this pertained not only to those things we just related, but also to others which, at that time, were being committed with equal cruelty by those in power with impunity—namely, that such actions should be condemned, as if that blood, falling from the clouds instead of natural rain, were shadowing the violent intrusion of new prelates into the seats of those who had been expelled by force. Be that as it may, those men certainly, while they busied themselves so vehemently with the work of arranging the Church according to their own judgment, as they wished to appear, were not undeservedly considered to be raging with tyrannical license in many things, abusing the gentleness of the emperor, who, induced by the vain hope of peace and fully restored concord that they promised if he would allow them to do what they wished, had thrown everything into their power, thinking that the most desired goal—the promised public tranquility—was worth buying at any price, and prudently, as it seemed to him, expecting it from such connivance.
19. Concerning the Augusta Theodora and the Patriarch of Alexandria.
But to return to the acts of the synod, there was also this. They demanded from the Augusta Theodora a profession of faith, and furthermore, that she should declare in a written document that she renounced the convention of the churches and the obedience to the Pope, which had been publicly admitted a little before; and finally, that she should solemnly promise never to ask for the performance of funeral rites for her deceased husband, to be celebrated by the chanting of psalms and other ecclesiastical ritual. The reward offered for these things was the honor of the commemoration of her name in the church, to be conjoined during the sacred rites with the name of the emperor, her own son. From the Alexandrian patriarch, Athanasius, they likewise demanded that he should confirm with his approval the condemnation and deposition from their rank of the prelates who had been removed from their sees; furthermore, that he should also explicitly declare A that he would admit that name into the diptychs with the other patriarchs. For an unperceived fear fell upon Theodosius, the Prince of Antioch, lest they might also do something of this sort to him—things unwanted—and he showed an open, haughty contempt for what was being done. In fact, having sent word, without the emperor’s knowledge, he resigned in Syria and ceded his throne to another; for Tripolis was still safe, and Ptolemais in Syria was safe, and Berytus, Sidon, Tyre, and that entire maritime coast remained, where the Italian rule was stronger than that of the Ethiopians.
Those of that church, having accepted the resignation, by a common vote appointed Arsenius of Hagios Symeon, a man totally hallowed and venerable in appearance. Those here indeed received him at first B and communicated with him through the mentioning of the sacred diptychs; but later, having incurred blame from a rumor that was heard that he had thus united with the King of Armenia in a schism against the Church, without waiting for any examination of the fact, they eagerly erased his name. Since he did not even survive for a short time (for perhaps he would have appeared to answer the accusation, had he survived), the archbishops being of divided opinion, some C declared that they considered as void and wrongly decreed those things which had recently been enacted in the cause of the Pope and the reconciliation of the Greek with the Latin churches. This latter [action] was the cause for him being asked, because he had, for the reasons we mentioned before, communicated with those who had done those things. It was added that, only on this condition—if he would confirm these things in writing and by his signature—was it to be granted him that his name should be mentioned among the other patriarchs in the sacred diptychs. But Theodosius, the patriarch of Antioch, the Prince, touched by a secret fear lest they might decide something more severe against him, outwardly showed that it was not pleasing to him, but also that he did not judge that what was being done concerned him at all. Therefore, disdainful and speciously secure, he left his written abdication of the patriarchate at Antioch, the emperor not knowing, and migrated into Syria, where many great cities were still then in the power of the Latins—Ptolemais, Berytus, Sidon, Tyre, and all that maritime coast, in which the Italians were excellently maintaining their empire against the resources of the Ethiopians. D The clergy of Antioch, having received the Prince's abdication, with harmonious votes created Arsenius of Hagios Symeon patriarch, a man venerable by his appearance of remarkable sanctity, whom the Constantinopolitans immediately recognizing, admitted into communion, publicly pronouncing his name in the diptychs. Afterward, however, a rumor having spread that he had communicated with the King of Armenia who had departed from the Church, without taking any time to investigate the truth, they eagerly deprived him of that honor and struck his name from the sacred tablets. It happened, however, that he passed from the living around this time: whom it is credible, if he had even slightly survived, would have come to Constantinople to plead his case. Furthermore, the prelates gathered to elect his successor were split into two opinions: for the Cilicians [indeed]
[they called] Dionysius of Pompeiopolis, but for the rest, they summoned Cyril of Tyre to the patriarchate. Among these deliberations, and while Dionysius was trembling, Cyril anticipated him and occupied the throne, and being confirmed therein, prevailed. Therefore, this did not cause the Alexandrian [patriarch], who was residing in Constantinople at the time, any great feeling of pain that his name was not recited among the patriarchs: for the common lot of many lessened his private distress. Nor did the hope offered to him of attaining this honor have much allure, especially since it was proposed at a high price, namely the requirement that he approve the improper acts of the present synod; and he saw clearly that he could not avoid the disgrace if he were to be considered the basis and author of those acts, and consequently, if he were to draw upon himself the ill-will of those who would have communion with such performers.
20. Concerning the wife of Terter
While these matters were still being deliberated, a restoration of the alliance occurred between the emperor and Terter. The latter, having been raised to the kingdom of Bulgaria after the departure of Asan, as we have said elsewhere, professing to be a man of religion, was cohabiting with the sister of said Asan, whom he had taken after repudiating his former lawful wife against the law; and he said he could no longer bear to be considered an outcast from the Church of his kingdom and rejected from communion on that account. He sent [envoys] to the emperor to explain these very things and to declare that he was prepared to confirm peace with him on the condition that he return to him his true wife, who was being held at Nicaea. The emperor, assenting to this, had the woman brought out of custody and sent her back to Terter, with the agreement that he, in turn, would send back to him the sister of Asan. And this was done. But when there was no longer any hope for Asan of recovering the Bulgarian kingdom, to A possess which he was most strongly confirmed, the emperor thought it best to strike a treaty with him, having at that moment few Roman troops at hand who were ready for battle and sufficiently prepared to conduct matters well against an enemy so near and strenuous. Therefore, he came to an agreement with the Bulgarian Asan, according to the pacts previously entered into by his father with him, conferring [upon him] the dignity of despot of the Romaids as compensation of some kind for the lost kingdom.
21. Concerning the emperor’s departure for the East
The emperor, relieved of this concern, had another, sharper and more persevering, preoccupation deeper in his mind: namely, to establish concord in the Church in good faith. Even though everything that was being done then was intended solely for this purpose, it appeared that nothing of importance had been achieved B thus far. Therefore, he did not allow the prince, who was anxious for such a cause, to delay in the investigation of further means towards so necessary an end, since the Arsenian faction—which was very large and increasing in number daily—nowhere allowed for peace. Andronicus departed from Constantinople and headed for the East, having instructed the patriarch and the others, as many as were around the patriarch and as many as were of the opposing faction, to meet him as quickly as possible C there, somewhere near the Hypoplacian Thebes, to be carried there by the imperial triremes, which he had ordered to be equipped with provisions sufficient to accommodate that very multitude—however many might arrive—of people caught up in that cause, even if all of them should come without exception. The reason the emperor wished so many and such various people to gather in one place was that it seemed a necessary step for one who was zealous to restore perfect concord to the Church, so that D the authors and followers of the multiple factions might consult together, and each might plead their own arguments
[67] For the scandal regarding what had been done the previous day was still alive, and all the more so because those people, in their zeal, were lamenting the acts committed by Joseph or his followers as violations, and were confessing that they were suffering injustice, while also harboring suspicions about the acceptance of the Arseniates. For these reasons, the sovereign gathered them all together in that place, so that the assembly, having reached its full size, might determine the necessary course of action through mutual deliberation. And, once they had gathered, and the emperor had made provision for their comfort, seeing that they would be wintering near Adramyttium, the emperor, having put aside entirely his external duties, began to consider how, in what manner, the Arseniates might be persuaded to agree to what had been done, and thus be brought to peace.
Those gathered then were, on one side, the followers of the patriarch, together with whom were most of the group, as well as Eulogia and her daughters, namely Theodora and Anna (who had come from western lands, arriving there at that time according to the report of what had taken place, and was also called empress), and, B besides them, the aforementioned grand logothete Muzalon, who possessed great influence with the emperor and had been honored—in recognition of his singular favor, beyond the rank of the office he held—with the gold-and-purple head-covering, which was a badge of the magnates and exceeded the merit and degree of the office he held. On the other side were those around Hyacinth the monk, among whom were numbered those who had recently suffered and been blinded, Lazarus the Gorianite and Macarius, surnamed Cotumba (for Athanasius the Lependrenite was one of the old, great zealots).
There were not a few others with them, for the emperor allowed everyone to appear openly, including the laity and the members of the palace. To those whom the emperor had called together, he spoke on set days of each week, having both the patriarch’s party and the others on either side, and he strove throughout the course of the forty days to reconcile and unite both parties into one and the same fulfillment of communion. But he could not persuade them, at times beseeching them, at times reproving them, and in every way possible attempting to win them over and subject their inhumanely hardened minds—and to C confirm all things by common consent with vows and prayers.
For no small resentment was burning in the minds of many against the agreement recently initiated with the Latin Church and the Roman pontiff—a plausible pretext for a third rift, all the more damaging in that it had been added to the heap of evils already conflated and embroiled in the two previous, and now fiercest, of discords. For the complaints of those who spoke against Joseph, regarding his so-called intrusion into the patriarchate and actions which they claimed to be legitimate in many respects, had not yet subsided, but were fueled by murmurings and the favor of the many.
Moreover, on the opposite side, the Arseniate conspiracy was also thriving, inflamed by hostile disputes. Yet, for all their intense struggle against the Arseniates, the Josephites were not without certain common studies and sentiments. For since both sides suspected one another with the most restless rivalry, and the Josephites were especially troubled—and dealt a great blow to their cause—by the emperor’s lenity toward those who honored the memory of Arsenius (fearing that it might go so far as their full admission and vindication), the harsh and beastly things that they saw being decreed and done in the Church pleased neither side equally. D Openly, both parties lamented the bishops who had been cast from their sees, and they did not hesitate to profess in a clear conspiracy that they thought the men had suffered such things unjustly.
The emperor, wishing to heal with a single effort these many and intricately tangled causes of the discords that were miserably tearing the Church apart, thought it useful to gather them all together into one place, imagining that, by consulting together, they might jointly find some path toward a consensus that was so publicly necessary.
When, therefore, all had arrived at Adramyttium, where the emperor had provided abundantly for the needs of all for the entire winter, he himself, meanwhile, having put aside the cares of civil affairs, and...
A considering that they alone were to be submitted to certain signs from God. For to be so persuaded by words and to be immediately at peace, setting aside such precision, while showing that it was a self-pleasing opinion, they considered [what was] of the previous opposition.
22. On the agreements made by fire at Adramyttium.
Whence they looked towards the signs of God of old, by which He was glorified among the saints; and just as they felt that God is the same now as of old, so B they supposed that His signs did not occur only for those who did not dispute [Him], and they sought to entrust themselves to the wonders of God, as if they would unfailingly follow those by whom God also showed Himself to be pleased. And indeed they themselves and the emperor (for those around the patriarch, as they showed, were displeased, so as not to openly cooperate) fulfilled the agreements. The agreements, however, were for each side to draw up and write down all that they thought fit for the bringing of peace, and for the others in turn to compose another volume and to declare C as much as they had to say in their defense against them. And at the same time to kindle a fire such as would be able to melt even adamant, and to put [them] in; and if one were preserved, and indeed both were kept safe by the unhurt state [of the other], as if God were showing His pleasure at this, but if the fire were to ruin both, also then to come together and be at peace, as though the agreements had been made in the fire. These things were thus, and the emperor, having provided a quantity of silver with a most generous hand (and what wonder? D for he would have even surrendered the empire itself, as it seemed, for the sake of their peace), ordered a cauldron to be cast of silver to receive the fire. He commanded the trial to take place on a day which had the fullness of greatness, since the great and holy week was at hand, and it was close to the Resurrection day; that is, it was the day of the Great Sabbath itself. On which, having gathered together, after first having offered many supplications to God concerning the matters at hand, under the eyes of all, and with the emperor present, they entrusted the volumes to pious hands, which, cutting off every cause of suspicion, cast the papers into the fire, having...
A been cast in, they were (as it were) straw to a furnace on both sides; and the fire, not ignorant of its own power, took hold of them tightly bound together, so that even after one and then a second hour of effort they were both consumed. Then, having B fully abandoned hope, like the volumes themselves, just as they were to the fire, so they surrendered to the emperor and were evidently bowing before the patriarch. The emperor, however, overflowing as if he had performed a wondrous feat there (for it seemed a wonderful thing that strong opinions could be softened in a moment), as if he had already accomplished the whole design, hurried to bring them, taken captive from that very place, to the patriarch just as they were; and taking them, he walked on foot, and late on the Sabbath he brought them to the patriarch. They themselves, approaching from that point, received blessings, and having abandoned all they were saying and doing before—which at first they had defended as if by the constraint of supreme necessity—they truly C partook of the holy bread.
Thus they were clearly showing for what purpose they had looked to God and to the manifestation of His own will, having been softened by the weight of their long affliction. Day was dawning, and that heat and intensity for peace were beginning to cool and grow calm, and they were giving heed to themselves as those who had been deceived by their own craft. But keeping the matters of their change hidden for the time being (for they judged peace to be the possession of persuasion, not of chance), they stayed in a difficult state until the evening of that day, as if they had fallen into it inadvertently; and by morning, except for a few, all had recoiled. The sovereign, therefore, when he knew that he had labored in vain, gathered the leaders and made a speech to them. He had tucked the patriarch away somewhere inside, dressed in his D priestly vestments, and commanded him to keep quiet; while he himself, turning to them, as it were, with double meanings—playing the craftsman, as was his way, against their duplicity—inquired as to what opinion they held regarding the one occupying the patriarchal throne. To them, however, he [was not] confessing that [patriarch]—
but they also held certain things which they might say as a pretext for scandal, on account of which many stumbled and would renounce the concord; this seemed decent, yet they stood aside from both sides and avoided it. They did, however, for the time being, acknowledge Gregory as patriarch; for this was the monastic name given to him instead of George. And immediately, appearing unexpectedly by the emperor's arrangement, and then hearing that he was called patriarch, he straightway rebuked them for their defection and the violation of the agreements, as if they had not lied to men, but to God; and he straightway launched the excommunication, thinking that by this he could bring to their senses those who were pious, especially those around Hyacinth and Lependrenus, who were dragging the others along. But that was rather an incitement to defection for them, and they stood apart, paying little heed to those excommunications. Some, however, remained, with whom all were pleased. And those [the others] demanded the severe measures in the Church—which were left after many of the first ones had been filled—namely, that every ordination by John [Veccos] be suspended, even if he were the one who ordained, and even if he had ordained by [another's] instigation. A
Those to whom it had been ordained that relief and activity be granted at the proper time—but the persecutors (they called it persecution if anyone chided them even for the sake of admonition, or if he had cooperated with their betrayers and informers)—the penalty was to be perpetual suspension from office, whether they were discovered inside or outside the city. To the other clergy who had been disciplined, absolution was granted, provided they did not advance to a higher rank, no matter how much they might progress in virtue. Having established and written down these items, they returned. B
XXIII. That Andronicus of Sardis, having been accused of high treason, is also turned away by the emperor and disgraced.
Nor indeed was the trial before Lampsacus, as happened before, idle for a very long time, as it was wont to linger in many cases; but against the leader of such things, the one from Sardis, even if he was not present when these things were done, the action, being reversed, was turned over by a higher hand. Indeed, by his disciple, the monk Galaktion, it is reported that he was both thinking and speaking most wickedly against the emperor. As he was thus also suspected of the most serious matters, he was brought under charges of high treason. Being thereafter covered in every slander and reproach—as if he had hitherto sinned with impunity, he had been overlooked—[the trial]... C D
he appeared to everyone, because he was a monk who had not shuddered to abandon the habit and leap into the rank of the high priests, and having suffered terrible things from many, he was finally snatched up by blows and shoves and cast outside the common assembly. At that time, Nicander of Larissa—who had been ordained by John Veccus and for that reason deposed by him—being present there and seeing him cast out so ignominiously, took a monk’s cowl and placed it upon his head with as much sneering and mockery as possible. Chalazas, having come to himself only for this (for his mind was for the most part gone), immediately grabbed the cowl and threw it off with a flick, and gave his naked head to comply with the piercing rays of the sun. Nicander gathered it up again and placed it on him, and Chalazas cast it off again. As this happened many times, it stirred up no small laughter, mockery, and reproof from those present. But the more attentive ones, turning their minds to what he was doing to the high priests, A seeing that he was subjecting them to similar judgments, recognized the providence [of God].
24. How Cotanitzes fled from Prusa.
[P. 41] Cotanitzes, however, while wearing the habit of monks and practicing asceticism in the monastery of the Peribleptos, counterfeiting all simplicity as if he had loved that way of life from his heart and had chosen to die in it, and having deceived the monks with such impostures, persuaded them to allow him to reach the great monastery in Prusa. Having arrived there, he began to craft his escape to his own people. For he wrote secretly—seizing the appropriate occasion when the emperor was busy with other things—and a fishing boat, having been prepared by his kin and carrying horses, was sent to Prusa. And indeed, as the ship reached the shore, those bringing it made their arrival known to Cotanitzes, and upon the night being appointed, they stationed the B horses by the wall of the monastery and of the city at the same time.
C And, being eased down by a rope and mounting a horse, he reached the shore, embarked immediately, and set out, as is to be expected, by sail and oar.
XXV. Concerning the expedition to the West of the protovestiarius Tarchaneiotes.
Upon learning of this, the emperor was deeply distressed. Since he also learned that Michael, the son of John Ducas, the sebastokrator of the West, possessed great energy, he suspected the youth’s hot-headedness, but nevertheless postponed acting upon his anxieties for a more opportune time. However, fearing his immediate energetic nature—regarding him as a future inexorable enemy—he began to stir up discussion about him and consulted with his own cousin, the empress Anna. She, being among the powerful, favored the emperor, and as she was pushing away a neighbor-evil from herself, she promised in every way to deal with her nephew, to leave nothing undone to bring him under subjection, and to see if she could seize him inescapably into her hands and send him to the emperor. The emperor was also ordering forces D to arrive together with the protovestiarius Tarchaneiotes for the West, as many as he could manage from those places according to the laws of war and battle, and that he should be ready to receive Michael, who was to be sent by Anna, if it should prove successful to capture him. Having settled and confirmed these things, the emperor sent Anna away with peace and honor; he himself, meanwhile, was in every way courting the favor of the protovestiarius and choosing honor for him by the greatest means, even promising to exalt him with the dignity of Caesar, and he rushed toward the West. He, however, said that he would hardly accept such a dignity at that time, when he himself had performed some achievement worthy of the Romans, so as not to receive it as a gift, but as a reward; but when the need for money arose, he asked for the funds from the public treasury—as he later assured his own kin—but the council around the emperor deemed it just that they be collected from a common assessment. The latter was a tenth of the *pronoia* from those who possessed *pronoia*. This was indeed collected as if from the just dues of the masters, but the whole burden was paid by the inhabitants of those who held power. When large sums had been gathered from this, those...
having taken this with very many forces, he set out quickly towards Demetrias and those parts, leading his forces by land.
26. That the galleys of the Romans were neglected.
The navy was led by his son-in-law, Alexius Raul, comprising about eighty ships; the grand stratopedarch Synadenus was also with him. Now, the navy seemed most useful at that time for Roman affairs, even if, after the turning of events, it was neglected in such a way that it caused more damage than benefit over time. For these things too were suspected, and there were some who were inclined to believe that it had been done this way, because it happened that the Church was established in tranquility due to the emperor's zeal, and from then on every hostile force was at that time disbanded and rendered inactive by the nod of God. B From there, some of the imperial officials and counselors also introduced plans, to the effect that the counter-heretical [expenditure] was great, and that the expenditure on the ships was also great, A while from those who paid taxes to the public treasury, the many-wealthy empire could abound in money, and with these, according to treaties and agreements, it could manage the affairs of the empire C without sweat and without trouble. These men were persuading the emperor, not looking at the majesty of the Roman empire, which was not of a nature to be content with its own from of old, but considered it a loss if it did not also acquire others, and [not considering] that for the empire of Constantine, which also holds islands, it is impossible to rule without galleys, even as the Italian [power] was raised up from the greatest strength for the recovery of those things which yesterday and the day before were theirs and had been acquired for the Roman empire by means of the galleys. The emperor indeed understood these things as was to be expected, being sufficiently possessed, even before his full age, of the most royal discernment, and he held to the ships; but fate D prevailed, and it was his lot to yield to those who spoke. And the peaceableness of the time, with the rest also bowing together to the Venetians and Genoese, cast out of the way the necessity of those galleys; yet, as I said, the fate which decided to bring down our affairs was the inescapable power of Divine Providence, or a certain sloth of the sovereign and the ministers of the principate—napping in a trust of present peace as if it would endure for all time, unprovided and destined one day to be paid for with heavy losses. For they saw then, of course, the whole Latin name resting in submission, and that no one among the Italians more...
than the Venetians and Genoese, who were living in perfect tranquility within the lands of the empire, was plotting hostilities against the Emperor ruling in Constantinople, removing Charles, as it were, from the center of things and inciting everyone to this, as was their custom while he lived. Hence, a practice crept in which reason had not approved: that there would be a saving of the expenses usually spent on maintaining the fleet. And as it was managed as if it were a clear profit to the public treasury, for whatever was subtracted from the accounts for naval preparation, it gradually came to pass that the Roman fleet was not indeed delivered to be consumed in a single moment by flames, but was instead consigned to be destroyed by time. With no expense or care left over for the protection or restoration of the ships of which it was comprised, only so much remained permanent as the time required for all the ships to rot away from pure neglect or to be destroyed as their frames came apart. This happened later, but this was foreseen and anticipated earlier.
Many of the fleet’s soldiers, brave and not a little experienced in battles, were all spurned and deprived of their pay; some were forced to turn to mechanical arts to seek their livelihood, while others were forced to transfer to the enemies, under whose leadership they thereafter infested our coast and region with piratical raids. Yet at the time we are describing, very many of these men had been enrolled in the infantry forces and followed the protovestiarius as he led an expedition into the Western tracts. Having progressed as far as Demetrias, he took up his position there, and ordered his forces, which had been divided into units, in part to make incursions and carry off plunder from the neighboring enemy territories, and in part to restore the towns of Roman jurisdiction that had been deformed by enemy incursions. He himself, meanwhile, awaited—as has been said—the outcome of the promises of Queen Anna, and A at the same time, until she had lured the unwary Michael, the son of her brother-in-law, into her snares, and according to the agreements, had surrendered him to her, so that she might seize him and safely bring him to the Augusta. This, in fact, was the true cause of the delay, for which the repair of the fortifications damaged by time or war, which I mentioned, was speciously put forward as a pretext; the first specimen of which was the construction in one day of twenty-four wooden towers in the circuit of Demetrias, for which a double trench was also dug, and water was furthermore diverted from the nearby sea into both. These having been expedited for the protection of the work, the building of solid stone walls within that rampart was accomplished at leisure. The protovestiarius kept his army occupied with these things for a long time, meanwhile accomplishing nothing at all of business against the enemies.
[h ]27. Regarding the protovestiarius, and how subsequently the matters concerning Michael were brought to a successful conclusion.
Furthermore, a heavy calminity of pestilential disease fell upon the soldiers in the Roman camps, as they lingered for a long time in such a place and work, by which many were killed in a short space of time. For as the plague spread by contagion, and as the district of the sky, becoming more and more corrupt, increased its savage force, Libitina, insatiate in her wildness, raged with funerals that grew frequent by the moment, laying low everything far and wide with the foul slaughter of corpses, and sparing not even the princes themselves in the destruction, to such an extent that the plague even extinguished the protovestiarius, the supreme leader of that army. With him removed, the remnants of the forces, having achieved nothing worthy of such preparation and expectation, returned ingloriously. B Afterward, however, the queen herself, through her own efforts, with the cooperation of her virile husband Nicephorus, having attacked Michael with deceits, found a most efficient machine for destroying him: the specious name of an affinity held out to him. For when Michael heard that a marriage was promised to him with the royal virgin, the daughter of the despot Nicephorus and Queen Anna, and that the promise of so splendid a marriage was confirmed to him by the most holy oaths of the parents of the girl, he easily yielded himself to the power of his expected parents-in-law, an imprudent man who had not considered how incredible it was that despots would really wish to settle their legitimate heiress upon a bastard, nor fear to stain their ancestral nobility by the mixture of a spurious breed. But the youth, headlong in his ambition, not admitting even a first suspicion of such a legitimate path, in blind confidence cast himself into the snares. C For as he gave himself...
up into the hands of conspiring kinsmen, he was bound by them and sold to the emperor for a large sum of money. The emperor, having him brought to him, kept him in safe but free custody, striving to soothe him with various remissions and tokens of honor, to the point that he even promised him in marriage the daughter of his own sister, born of Asan. But to placate a ferocious spirit, inflamed by the injustice of betrayal, no present flatteries nor promises of future favors were sufficient. A Wrapping himself in irrevocable stubbornness, Michael stood entirely intent upon securing his liberty through a stealthy escape. But his frequent attempts to flee were always met with adverse fortune, he being dragged back as often as he had escaped, and returned to the chains which, for a long time afterward, clung to him against his will. Here, I shall relate one of his attempts to flee—the last one, which occurred after some years—setting aside the sequence of time for the sake of the narrative. The emperor had departed for Thessalonica, as we shall narrate in its proper time, and Michael was kept in custody, and with him was his own sister. Terteres, the King of Bulgaria, having received her from her father, the sebastocrator, as a betrothed for his son Osphentistlabus—she being still at an age of immaturity—when he had come to favor the treaties with the emperor, sent her to the emperor together with the sister of Asan. Thus they shared one confinement; and those whom the one named Erres, from the Enclini, B who was set over the prison together with others and a third serving boy, had under his hand, were kept there. Michael, therefore, approaches this Erres, promising to have him as a brother-in-law through this sister, should they happen to escape. There are those who say that the man from the Enclini also consorted with her carnally, drawing from this the pledges of the marriage. Erres was, in any case, the overseer of the remaining guards and, having many under his hand, appeared in most things faithful to the emperor. The barbarian is thus enticed by promises greater than his station, and he nods in assent to the undertaking. C And indeed, the preparations are made by those close to Michael who, living in freedom, were supplying him with the necessities. A swift-sailing boat and oarsmen, sufficient for the time and paid for with a great sum, are readied, and the time is accurately set at which they would come to shore at the western sea and stop, while they themselves would emerge from the prison and embark. And because it was not possible to overcome the other two guards—for the plan was not fully known to all—they divide them, sending them forth as if on a mission, and [handling them] one by one D as they were sent away, they kill them, the second not knowing the fate of the first...
But pity saves the child; having bound his feet and arms together and gagged his mouth, they release him. As for the others, having locked and sealed the prison A so that the child, should he escape, might not reveal the drama before the proper time, they depart during the first watch of the night. For the keys to the gate there, as well as to the prison, were entrusted to Erres. And if anyone should suspect that the action was a ruse, he would call out from below to the guards, pretending to wake them to the watch of those detained, as though he himself were busy with secret service; for some, seeing him, suspected nothing else at that time than that he was managing matters ordered by the Emperor in secret and was removing those ordered by night to wherever he had been commanded. They, having slipped past the guards, board the ship. And in the minds of all it was as if it were known B that there were no doubts, as if nothing would hinder them from reaching Euripus in two or three days and being released from the fears of flight, for their sister governed the island. But justice, with a backward stroke, stood in their way, and the blood of the murdered [men], a bond restraining their onward journey, was unbreakable and indissoluble. For suddenly, a violent south wind blew against them, so that it drove the ships even from the harbor by its force, and an opposing wind stood against the transgressors. For not for one day or a second did the sea surge from violent south winds, but for days, until they, having been driven off course near Rhaedestus, fell into the hands of those who happened to be there. And although these things happened after much time, they have been inserted here because the sequence of the account demanded it. We must, however, proceed to what follows. C Yet this also must be added for them: for it relates to the things previously recorded. For when the eighth year had passed since this event [p. 47], and his own kindred also were seeking D to negotiate with the Emperor, promising great things if only he were released from his bonds and returned to them, the ruler himself would play with the matter; he would neither flatly refuse by his words of policy nor would he completely agree. Learning of such procrastinations, he [Michael] deliberates a plan, worse rather than wise. For, being imprisoned in a tower near the palace where the Emperor himself lived, he decided to set fire to the buildings, as if, forsooth, he were doing something noble by plunging into such a desperate act.
And so, at an unseasonable hour of the night, having prepared dry wood—for these things were done in winter, about the middle of Skiraphorion, which is December—and having secured the doors of the aforementioned building from within, he set a fire, which quickly caught and blazed up, becoming evident to those outside. The fact reached the Emperor, who was still awake, and he sent those who were defending him—not against that man, but to extinguish the fire. Someone else, a eunuch named Carbas, anticipating them, rushed to the doors and knocked as if to open them; but as they could not be opened, being secured, he smashed the doors with axes, using bars and bolts. The eunuch had not yet even fully stepped over the threshold when the man from within met him with a sword, driving it into his vitals, and then struck him again and a third time, and the man who was struck fell dead instantly. Suddenly, many people rushed to the scene, and the imperial ax-bearing guard, indignant at what had happened, ruthlessly killed that man with their axes, and they buried him, raised as he had been in luxury, in some place outside the city, cast out as he was, near what is called the Silver [Gate], randomly and as chance would have it. But enough of this, as an example of human affairs, and [to show] that it is better to trust in shadows than in these things.
28. Concerning the Holy Bread.
B There truly befell at that time what was a dreadful thing to see and dreadful to hear, for which one person might assign one cause and another another, yet no one, I think, could arrive at a sound judgment, however much he might labor in searching it out. "For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has reached the furthest bounds of His wisdom?" says Job. To speak or even to hold opinions about divine matters that are outside of probability, such as those we shall now recount, borders on madness, as Pindar says. But since I have once committed myself to the report of what occurred, even if it happened in a way contrary to expectation, I should not unjustly be blamed for whatever I might say. For truth bestows confidence. And I think I would suffer nothing worse from my listeners by speaking of things that I might perhaps do myself a disservice by not mentioning. For from the one side, one might obtain glory by claiming to understand everything about what happened at that time from self-conceit, and indeed attribute to one single cause how those things happened in an improper and insecure manner; from the other side, however, if not something more, one might, by deliberately passing over what happened by divine providence, I believe, soil the truth according to history. Therefore, let this also be told along with the rest, bringing as it does a demonstration of God's providence, and whatever it might bring regarding those things which have been accomplished;
A For thus it was: the day known by its proper name as Cheese-fare day had arrived, and the priest was being called to perform the customary duty in the church; this was to fill the sacred pyxis with the presanctified offerings, as much as might be needed for the liturgies appointed. B When, then, the offering of the bloodless sacrifice had been completed, and the pyxis was opened in order that the sacred loaves might be placed within, there was immediately found inside among the presanctified offerings one—which anyone seeing it would have conjectured to be one of those three, which were also to be offered for the holy and great Wednesday—as it happened that, as has been said, the things of the holy sacrifice had not been completed because of the dismissal of the ecclesiastical persons from the church, for whatever reason the delay of the hour had occurred, and being left there, it had happened that it remained. It had, however, utterly wasted away and rotted, so as not to bear the image of bread, let alone to appear as bread in any way, but rather as some type of black, theriac-like crumbs or some other such concoction. C When he saw this, it immediately seized the priest, and he began to ponder what he should do (for it seemed impossible for him to accept it into the fresh offerings). And the matter seemed fearful, not so much because of what it had suffered, but because of what it had manifested, since the arrangements had been bungled. Therefore, it was also proposed for public view, and he sought what should be done with the greatest reverence. But it both seemed and was thought proper that the remainder of the change should not be allowed to occur, and the priest, hesitating, would not proceed to the communion. Yet there was no other way to offer it to God except by participating in the gifts. And from this side fear, and from that side perplexity, were dividing the observers, not knowing what they should do. The fear, at any rate, was contracting their minds toward one and the same counsel, namely that the priest, even if he should suffer something, ought to accept what was appearing. But since he did not even deem it approachable, or in any way even approachable with, so to speak, the tips of his lips, the perplexity cutting through, devised a plan, much indeed falling short of what was worthy, but necessary in another way, beyond anything else that one might have ever thought of.
D The Sunday had dawned, called by its proper name "Tyrine" [Cheese-fare], since the use of cheese was still permitted until then; by which the customary rite called the priest to prepare in the sacred pyxis as many offerings of consecrated bread as were necessary for celebrating the liturgies from the presanctified gifts as were imminent according to custom. When, therefore, the function of the bloodless sacrifice was completed, and the pyxis was opened to place the consecrated loaves within, a certain offering from the presanctified gifts appeared, being found inside, which anyone looking at it would suspect to be one of those which ought to have been offered on the Wednesday of Holy Week of the previous year, (but) had not been offered at all, as was indicated above, because of the recession of the ecclesiastical persons from the church, for whatever reason they had bypassed the ceremony due on such a day, and because of this it had been left there and neglected up to this time; during which space of time it had been corrupted, and, indeed, had already been rendered putrid and unfit for the intended uses, seeing that it did not even retain the appearance of bread, but had a certain form of black fragments of theriac or some other similar confection of that kind. The priest froze at the most unexpected sight, and declaring by the trembling of his whole body the horror and agitation of his soul, he hesitated, uncertain what he should do. For he did not think he could mix that old piece with the fresh ones, as if it could be offered thus, as they were, to those who would receive, and be considered a worthy host for celebrating the sacrifice from the presanctified. When, therefore, he hesitated for a long time, deliberating, as he reached no end regarding a spectacle so deformed, and a danger so perilous on both sides—with fear restraining him on this side and on that, and yet the necessity of acting forbidding him to delay—he finally called those standing by to counsel, and having shown them what he saw, he prayed most humbly to suggest what duty needed to be done. It immediately occurred to all that it would be the best thing to do if the priest were to consume that fragment of sacred bread, moldy and altered by age, by eating it, and place the recently consecrated ones into the now-empty vessel. But its appearance was so foul that he denied he could force his stomach to do so, nor, indeed, could he bear to touch so rancid a piece even with the tips of his lips. The sacrifice, however, could not be completed unless something were decided about this and this nauseating portion of the holy Eucharist were somehow removed from there. Finally, a way was initiated that was truly more necessary than decent, to which the priest, tortured by much anguish, at last turned his mind of his own accord. Being convinced that the consumption of that last sacred fragment should be permitted to Divine Providence, he decided to set it aside in a secluded place, such as is the ancient custom of the churches to have provided in the sacristies: our people call it the holy furnace.
But this is enough on that matter.
29. Concerning the Scythians of the Danube and how they were defeated.
At that time A a cloud of Scythians from the Danube gathered—I do not know from where or for what reason—mustering to nearly ten thousand. After traversing the land of the Bulgarians and plundering many surrounding places, they arrived at the outer ridge. It was already expected that they would rush out and make off with the spoils of Macedonia and Thrace, which are celebrated by the Mysians. B It happened at that time that the *curopalates* Umpertopulos held authority over the regions around Mesembria in the manner of a governor and general, a man delighting in goodness and adorned with prudence. He, suddenly engaging them and emboldened by the emperor’s piety, with a few men overcame the many in this advantage, so that some were put to the sword, while others were drowned in the river flowing nearby. A few escaped from the many, not knowing where on earth they were going, and traversing the difficult terrain, they fled as fast as their feet could carry them, having learned for the first time from this sad experience that a crowd lacking counsel is overcome by counsel more surely than by bravery. C Upon hearing these things, the emperor first gave thanks to God, and then, marveling greatly at the man, he rewarded him with many gifts, increasing his honor, greeting him not only with exchanges of garments but also with gold and horses; and upon these he also bestowed on him the office of Grand Papia as a prize of valor and a trophy worthy of such a great victory.
30. The emperor’s plea to those who were schismatic because of the signs that had occurred.
When the emperor arrived in the city, he did not treat those who were schismatic from the Church with harshness, D but rather he sought to manage their unity. Therefore, by sending for them, and sometimes by summoning them, he was very active in demonstrating the concern he felt for their affairs, and all the more so because he perceived that certain signs were occurring, such as would strike terror even into a very confident person. For in the vicinity of the renowned temple of the Wisdom of God, in a certain public building, an icon of the Theotokos was painted on a wall; and for many days the icon was weeping, shedding streams from its eyes, so that the liquid flowing out was even collected with sponges. And when the emperor himself came, both for the sake of veneration and also to see what was taking place,
A and this too. For since in all these things they were entirely untainted by the defilements, they held it just to act as they did, and in no other way to accept concord.
31. Concerning the bringing back of the remains of Patriarch Arsenius.
The same situation persisted as before. And again, in the Charsian quarter, blood flowed profusely from the image of the brightly shining martyr George. Seeing these things, the ruler—being by nature, to tell the truth, somewhat fearful in such matters—was struck with no small dread, lest perhaps God was indicating that it did not please Him that the emperor, having laid aside the care of pacifying the Church, was paying attention to other things, and that he might be acting contrary to the divine will. Whence he both called them together and besought them, both privately and publicly, assembling synods of the people; he deemed it worthy that peace might one day be attained, and the consensus of the Church be looked toward. But he did not persuade them; for the commemoration of Joseph was clearly standing in their way, and what they thought to be the Church’s defilement, as they said, that was in communion with excommunications. And they spoke of the excommunication of Arsenius by Joseph. And I know not if they also added their former oaths: that because he had not received an absolution—which he had the power to grant—for the one who had taken the throne after Arsenius, namely Hyacinthus, they argued that these things were parts contributing to the defilement. And if they were also adding as a third point the matter concerning the Pope, not being content with previous things, let that be B also. For since they were entirely untainted by the defilements, they held it just to act as they did, and in no other way to accept concord.
As for some of the Arseniates, there had been a settlement, and especially because they had joined together at Atramyttium, as has been said, and had exerted zeal in these things. So there was then also a desire on their part to bring back the body of Arsenius from Proconnesus, in addition to the earlier points. These, then, again deferred and requested this of the emperor. But there was also a deep and noble reflection in these things, as he showed in their requests; for the fact that one who had been unjustly cast out was being brought back to his former honor meant that from this the usurper Joseph would be exposed, for to whom the excommunication was attributed, as they said, that from him the things against him would flow away completely, C and would be granted by those who admired him. The emperor, however, gazing entirely toward the peace of the Church, so as to persuade those who were looking on, yet also anticipating the others from this (for what was strong for them was being proposed was the exile of the patriarch, for which they were at peace, and all the people of…
the state, who were subject to the others unjustly cast out, which indeed he also desired to forestall for the sake of the honor from the translation of the body which was to come to him and his own), he immediately nodded assent to the request. A And there was only this standing in the way for the emperor: the fact that it had been said by certain people that an excommunication had been laid by him upon those who might at any time transfer the body; for which reason alone he was ready to honor the exiled man immediately upon the arrival of the body. But since this was spoken of by those who knew as having been falsely told, and as a rumor fabricated by that disciple of his, Matthew, who wished to remain nearby with the body, immediately the group around Theodore Manuelites, rowing quickly, prepared the trireme; who indeed, in a few days, [P. 53] with fitting honor and worthy reverence, and with all favorable sailing, reached the city of Constantine. And then the emperor gathered together with the entire senate, and the patriarch gathered together with the bishops and as many of the clergy as were after him, B some having been summoned, while others came of their own accord. And having reached Eugenios, they covered that casket with a veil of the finest cloth, and having entrusted it to the hands of holy men as was fitting, under abundant lights and incense, with hymns and odes and the C fitting praises, they reached the great and holy precinct of the Wisdom of God on foot and walking slowly. And wishing to make the glory of the Arseniates as if it were their own—as they appeared explicitly as communicants and concelebrants of the patriarch—they put on sacred vestments, and while they were on the point of celebrating the holy liturgy, as the antiphons were being sung, they carried the body of the holy man, having clothed it in vestments, with the hands of the archbishops, entering the church together. Then, having decided to have it seated by the synthronon, they completed the holy ceremony to the end while the body stood before the holy table. From there they placed it also at the right side of the altar by the chest, guarding as best they could against theft by the Arseniates with locks and seals, and every third day
of the week, according to the custom of the people flowing thither, that also was opened and was accessible to those approaching. In later time, however, the protovestiarissa Raulaina erected in the monastery of Saint Andrew, called "the of the judgment," a holy house wrought with exquisite art and great size. And since she had a concern for the patriarch—not an ordinary one, both while he lived and after he had departed—she requested and earnestly begged the emperor that his body be given to the monastery under her charge, so that it might be deposited in the temple erected by her. And this was done, another festival having been established thereupon as was fitting, during which the emperor and the senate and almost all the clergy, nor even the popular portion of the city failing to attend, proceeding on foot from there, paid honor to the patriarch, the emperor himself contributing no small amount for the expenses of the labors. B
32. Concerning the calamities in Syria.
At that time also, the terrible events in Syria were occurring. For the sultan of Babylon, having some time before captured Antioch and razed it to the ground, had left to his successors a war of extermination against the Italians who had long inhabited the seacoast. Whence also, having recruited forces at that time, the Arabs—or rather the Ethiopians—first capture Tripoli, and they slaughter all therein who are of adult age, and they tear down the city itself from its foundations. Thereafter, they do the same to the populous Ptolemais, and having enslaved the entire coastline, they caused the marvels of Syria to vanish. And it seemed that our portents, which had appeared and been fulfilled upon those events, had indicated these disasters; for those tears and blood shed from the images had aimed toward a place far from us, being sent off as fearsome things to others who were not only unable to experience them, but were not even able to behold the events themselves, nor to share with us in our own evils. But that was, in fact, a consolation and a suspension of evils, it being known to those who suffered that where the sign of the terrible exists, there it follows that the result also comes to pass. B
33. Concerning the second marriage of the emperor.
The emperor, however, having two sons from Anna of the Hungarians, Michael and Constantine, brought up the former royally and cherished him as the successor to the empire, while the latter, Constantine, he reared as a Despot. Now, as for Michael, his grandfather Michael had indeed been the author of his being invested with the imperial station,
and he allowed him to be proclaimed as emperor, as one not A offensive to many; he had reached the small consolation allotted to the father by the death of the Augusta, which had set him free. For this reason, and because he did not possess the heraldic fame of the greatest of kings to bestow upon himself in a second marriage—since the throne would in any case belong to the son born of the former marriage—he takes to wife Irenen, formerly of the Marquises [Marchesi] and a granddaughter of the King of Spain, a good woman, and no less illustrious in character than in lineage. Gregory was the one who performed the rite, and the Augusta and mother [of the emperor] received the crowns.
34. How Veccus was recalled and brought from Prusa, and matters concerning his trial.
Since the prelate who had been proclaimed at Prusa was a certain Nicholas, formerly one of the imperial kitchen staff, who had changed his name from that of the monks to Neophytus (for this had also been established as a rule among them, even if it did not have the necessity of others—that one should stand today before God and angels to demand the covenants of the monastic order, and then on the following day ordain as high priest one who had been assigned to obedience; and this indeed seemed to many to be open to criticism), B upon arriving at the station allotted to him, the priest determined to do something novel concerning the events of the previous day regarding the commemoration of the Pope, and he issued a common order to abstain from meat for a certain number of days as a penalty for the transgression. This seemed burdensome to the people of Prusa; they blamed him for the events of yesterday, cursing him and heaping insults upon him. For he was the reason, as they said, why they were about to be punished with fasts and hardships. When this was heard by Veccus (for it crept far and wide, and everyone openly expressed it, and those who were his followers were insulted to their faces by those outside), it seemed intolerable, not even sufferable to endure. [P. 56] Hence he gathered greater anger, and standing in the middle of the great courtyard of the monastery, so that he might be heard by everyone, he spoke with great contempt toward the prelate of Prusa, appearing ignorant of ecclesiastical matters, and addressed the then-patriarch, Gregory, with harsh words. "What has come over you," he said, "that you heap frequent insults upon me, who was born and raised among the Romans and from among the Romans, and C then flee? A man born and bred among the Italians, D who you honor as patriarch with applause and acclamations—the Cypriot foreigner, from an island under Latin rule and born of Latins, still bearing here the clear signs of that foreignness in his conduct and the sound of his tongue—him you venerate? But if you do not do this out of an invidious discrimination of persons, but allege that you are being swept into this iniquity out of religious zeal for doctrines, then come, let the emperor convoke an assembly and let him hear us debating the cause, and by citing the Scriptures and the judgments of the ancient Fathers, let him collect the suffrages of the wise, and thus let it be determined regarding the matter, not by invidious tumults, but by tranquil discussion, according to the custom of our ancestors. While this is delayed, why do you pour out carts of plebeian ribaldry, exposing your own ignorance, and neither...
fearing the judgment of the learned nor the authority of the Scriptures? But if you say this for the sake of dogmas, let the emperor call for us, and let him hear our mind when all have gathered, if I should appear to think wrongly, from men of wisdom and those who judge by the Scriptures and are devout. If not, why do you follow the words of the ignorant and unrefined, fixing the worst charges upon me?” Veccus spoke these things openly, and it was clear that he wished them to be reported even to the emperor. A And this had not happened long before it came to pass. For by a common decision he is brought down, and having disembarked from the ship, he approaches the monastery of Kosmidion, and the day for the discussion was set, and a synod of holy men is held in the Alexiac triclinium, with the emperor himself present. Now, the patriarch Gregory was present, and there was also present Athanasius of Alexandria, who by chance was suffering some bodily infirmity and was carried [lying] on a litter. The whole assembly of the high priests also came together. There were also those of the Church and many monks, and the most learned of the laity. Above these the emperor presided, having around him all the most eminent of the magnates and the entire distinguished senate. The Great Logothete was there, among the first of those gathered, having taken upon himself the duties of the discussion along with the patriarch. Beyond these was the rhetor of the Church, who was the one B commencing the dialogues.
And, “For what reason,” says he, “O you, while there is still moisture [to your ink] and while your own signatures remain, in which you confessed you had erred and asked for pardon and offered a resignation, do you today take back what was admitted and insist that you were treated unjustly, so that such a great current synod had to be assembled?” “Because,” he says, “having spoken the words of the Fathers and being asked for an account concerning these things, we, knowing one time for their exposition and another for the present moment, wishing only to live in peace, left all these things undone, but not, however, in such a way that those who wish to act as busybodies should fasten upon us the crime of heresy.”
And the patriarch Gregory, taking up the word, said: “And what, pray, is the opinion of those around you?” For there were with him [Veccus] those formerly archdeacons, both Constantine Meliteniotes and George Metochites. C They [replied]: “If indeed you wish to learn the theology simply, and the faith which we believe in our heart and confess with our mouth, this is that which everyone theologizes, and in which we shall remain even unto our very last breath. But if you also seek that of the Fathers, which we contend is not contrary to the Symbol of the Faith, but rather an exposition and clarification of the things contained in the Symbol, we find in the Scriptures the Holy Spirit being supplied, given, and sent forth,
proceeding from the Father through the Son; for is there not also the Holy Spirit? Is not an indivisible Trinity implied? Is it not proclaimed by certain of the Fathers? And the great Damascene, John, also says: A “And the producer through the Word of the manifesting Spirit.” And we recognize that “producer” is the same as “cause.” Therefore, we do not call the Son the cause of the procession of the Spirit from the Father, nor a co-cause, but we even anathematize and reject anyone who speaks in such a way. We call the Father the cause of the Spirit through the Son, since the term “producer” is taken as equivalent to “cause.”
“And how, O sirs,” says the great Logothete, “do you not make the Son a cause of the Spirit’s procession from the Father, since you confess the Father to be the cause of the Spirit through the Word? For you show, from what you say, that the Father would not have produced the Spirit had He not begotten the Son. Yet that is the cause made manifest.”
Those who wish to escape the perceived absurdity say that many things are said in theology, which, when weighed by limited human reasoning and examined by the meager scales of physical thought, seem to imply something altogether absurd and unbecoming to God. “Do we not say, God the Father is perfect, and God the Son is perfect, and God the Holy Spirit is perfect? Do we not say, B The Father begat the Son? Does this not search out, like Arius, a moment or indivisible atom of time between the begetter and the begotten? But we avoid the blasphemy, and we stand by the borders of piety, and while confessing what is in the Scriptures, we do not accept the absurd inference.”
Hence, Georgios Moscampar, the chartophylax of the Church at that time, said the quotation was spurious and supposititious. But the great Logothete, drawing close to his ear so that others might not hear, whispered: “And how, O sir,” he said, “will we appear to speak strongly if we defend ourselves in such a way? Since in the book of the sacred Hoplotheca, the quotation sits word for word as the authentic utterance of the holy and great Damascene.”
But he spoke clearly to those who opposed him, saying: “I accept that the quotation is indeed the C Holy One’s, yet I will not concede that the Spirit has the cause of His existence from the Father through the Word and the Son. For I might say that this is more adventurous than those who say the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son, inasmuch as there, the same preposition is applied equally to both, even if regarding the equality of the hypostases, the identity of the ‘producers’... D [index: entries preserved]
A renders the thought of the phrase [which is] exposed to misunderstanding, or [merely] strange? When the patriarch had spoken these things and seemed to speak very forcefully, those who were unable to defend themselves against these points alone said: "And why do you say these things to us? Say them to the one who said them. And if you think the Damascene speaks nonsense, yet you accept his logic, why are we accused of heresy, if we do the same things to you and honor the logic as the logic of a holy man?" B "One honors the holy Gospel," the patriarch says, "by saying the Father is greater than the Son. But this is not sufficient, unless one also rightly interprets the divinely delivered oracle. Why then, if you too accept the statement, do you twist the underlying meaning? Furthermore, the statements of the saints are linked to one another and interwoven, since they were expressed in various ways from one and the same simple Spirit. Show, then, this logic which you claim is supported by others. If you do not have it, as indeed you do not, what else does such an over-interpretation desire than to twist the word toward a meaning strange to the common understanding of the Fathers and...
A ...and having stood their ground very bravely, they, having grown weak regarding the second [point], offered a defense regarding the first: "The statement of the Gospel, my good man," they say, "has a specific and appropriate explanation from the Fathers, and he who does not accept this is in every way evil; but this statement set before us is of necessity significant of a [particular] meaning. Show then the explanation, and we shall follow. If not, then you say it, since you do not accept our own, and we shall listen." "Those," B says the patriarch, "explain the statement who say that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father." "And what? Does he not think this?" they say. "This is dear to us, too, and a hope of salvation." "And if you accept this," the great logothete says, "why do you put forward that other thing?" "Because," they say, "the time required that such things be said for the sake of the peace of the nations." "But now," says Veccus, "if you wish, we must remain silent about the wording, which seems to have much that is daring. If not, then may the cause [of our troubles] be the accusations of transgression regarding the holy dogmas, as I think, rather than the need to defend ourselves. And indeed, pay attention to me, my lord," he says, "great logothete; for I shall address you (and I do not speak with flattery) as one who uses dialectical canons and who speaks according to what is fitting." "But do not flatter," he interrupted and said. "Far be it," he said. "But..."
A to me, it is a great fear to depict the indescribable, since even the light that is immediate to the sun (for I still hold fast to the image) is one of the most likely [to be used], and I do not contest it; yet the Word does not give me leave to think of the Spirit as immediate to the Father in the sense of the difference. For it says: "the immediate" is of that which is through the immediate; but you, by introducing local or indeed temporal distances, are altogether inducing an absurdity. For, at any rate, to be generated, and [to say] that the Son [is] from the Father, allows one almost to conceive of some outflow and local distance. But to be attached indivisibly, and to be from Him, reveals that the Son [is], and that being in Him is not taken away. Understand me in the same way regarding the Spirit. Or rather, let the argument be based on the image, so that we may speak more securely. We speak of a ray from the sun, and we do not know of this as a cutting-off from Him. We speak of light [coming] from the sun through it, and we understand the mediation, and we do not deny that the light is made immediate to the sun by the mediation of the ray. For this reason the saint also adds: "Of the mediation of the Son, which also preserves for Him the monogenetic, and does not block the Spirit from His relationship to the Father." After Beccus said these things, the [Patriarch] of Alexandria [spoke] from his couch toward him: "We hold the dogmas of the Church, which we have received, and we have not been taught to say these things. For if the Church held these things broadly, it would not necessarily have escaped our notice. But since... B of the holy ones saying that it follows, holding fast in any case to the outer wall, I am safely outside that which I might say. They bring forward the sun, the ray, and the light as an image of the indescribable, and again the eye of the spring, the water, and the river. Do not the theological Fathers say this concerning the blessed Trinity? For behold: the sun, and the ray immediately from it, and through it—before any new concept can intervene—the light itself from the sun. Is the ray or the sun the cause? Gregory of Nyssa fits the argument for me, saying: "Regarding that which is from a cause, that is, of things caused, we understand again another difference; for one thing is immediately from the First, and another is through that which is immediately from the First." To whom they [responded]: "And do you not confess the Holy Spirit to be immediate to the Father, just as the Son [is]? And what hearing could accept such a thing, if the Son is immediate to the Father, but the Spirit is separated by some local distance? What an absurdity! For if the Lord says, 'I am in the Father, and the Father in Me,' then it is reasonable to say the same things also about the Spirit, if we wish to be Orthodox: the Spirit [is] in the Father, and the Father in the Spirit, and again in the Son, and the Son in the Spirit. Or are these things not so?" Beccus [replied]: "Yes," he says. "To confess the Spirit as immediate to the Father, because [He is] also..."
A of those adding [it], and of both regarding the same place of theology, is to teach that it cannot be otherwise, unless we speak thus. Why then do you say that we infringe upon the Church of God by introducing things beyond what we have received? When, by abandoning many of these, it would be beneficial for peace to come about." But they [replied], "But we are accused of heresy, my lord." And the [Patriarch] of Alexandria said, "Yes, the desire to establish an unfamiliar thing, even if it were safe, might be reckoned as a heresy. And this must be abandoned, I pray, since you have become of the common and manifest opinion, and for the sake of peace, which is also beneficial, and with the holy emperor mediating in these matters." And the patriarch immediately said to them, "But you claim that for these [reasons] the 'through' is equivalent to the 'from', as the saint says, 'But the "through" relates to the immediate [result] from the first,' [while] you claim 'and from the first.' And in what way has this not exceeded the limit of ignorance? Where the chatter is also greater and more apparent. For if [it is] from the immediate, how [is it] from the first? And if from the first, how from the immediate? You see into what snares you fall, defiling theology." And those around Beccus [said], "We acknowledge the audacity, and we ask for forgiveness. For the impulse to say these things was not from a vain desire in us, but the cause was what incited us. This was the presumed dissolution of the discord of the Churches, so that while they used 'from,' and we used 'through,' B by applying the theological place, we could not reconcile [it] otherwise than if we spoke thus. Why then, because of this, [is there] a violation? Should we be judged entirely and for heresy, so that the ordination is annuled, and the holy things washed away, and the very consecrating holy myron itself is annuled and cast aside, because it was performed by us? Since, in fact, they say, you too have violated [the rules] regarding what they teach theologically, as we shall show. Are we therefore, because of these things, to abandon the accusing of you and make the whole thing disappear?" And those who spoke [asked], "And where and on what grounds have we violated [the rules]?" [They] immediately brought out a paper and displayed it. And those who read it again denied it and anathematized the statement, and almost the very man who wrote it. But [they] saw [it was] Moschabar and he confesses that the writing is his own and attempts to apologize. Upon which Beccus, with whatever one might call drollery, says to the patriarch, "We indeed expected it to be yours; but if not yours, then his, as he himself confessed. A fly sitting upon the shaft of a wagon has no power to either draw or lower the carriage." This he said while the Chartophylax was being addressed by two names. "But we would like to know," he says, "what kind of penalties you will inflict upon the one who pronounced the dogma?" When the words had been rubbed thin for a long time, Beccus again brought forward, "Or do you wish, C since I am [the cause] of the peace, and [the cause] of the 'through,' that I may bring..."
in the matter of divine emanations, there is something offensive, as we shall show. Is it proper, therefore, that you should avoid us as if we were excommunicated? Does religion compel us, too, aware of his error, to break off this conversation and to shun your communion as one struck by anathema, and thus to cut off every hope and path of reconciling concord? B Here the patriarch, with his people, asked Veccus where and in what words the error in his document lay. Veccus immediately brought forth the paper from his bosom and showed it. When they had read it, they denied that it was theirs, and not only what was written in it, but they also declared anathema upon the author of the writing himself, whoever he might be. Here Moschampar, who was conscious that he had written it, and could not deny a manifest fact, confessed that it was his writing; he attempted, however, to excuse the fact that he had drafted it. Hearing this, Veccus, looking at the patriarch with a smiling face that breathed much charm, said with most urbane wit: "We indeed expected, most excellent sir, that you would acknowledge this writing as your own. But now, if it is not yours, but belongs to this man, as he himself confesses, then like a flea sitting upon a wagon, he can neither urge on, nor steer, nor slow the momentum of the speeding carriage." These things Veccus said, wittily alluding to the name of the chartophylax Moschampar, for that man was known by two names. "Furthermore," he added, "we would gladly know what punishment you intend to inflict upon him, now that a manifest error in the expression of doctrine has been discovered." When, at this point, many had said many things, and the discussion, drawn out in vain, found no exit, Veccus resumed and said: "I will follow where I see you wish to lead, and I will meet you wherever you desire. Behold, I too, who love peace no less than any of you, for which you are striving, propose simply, if you permit, to declare my opinion on this matter without confusing words. We, indeed, when we had found the testimonies of the saints, as the business then being transacted required, brought them forward as secure and plainly orthodox. And as we received and do receive him who said that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father as one speaking and thinking rightly (for this the Savior taught, this the synod sanctioned; this we also profess daily in repeating the Creed), so we do not think it right to shun him who desires to say that the Spirit proceeds from the Father through the Son. For why should we not receive this man also, who follows the authority of the seventh universal synod in this? Therefore, we do not hesitate to condemn for rashness anyone who does not hold the honor of the holy Fathers in regard, by means of their clear testimonies. Behold, therefore, here today are present the patriarch, the bishops, the entire clergy, the religious monks, and the most select of the laity. I desire to communicate with you who think in an orthodox manner, and I am prepared to share in the penalty and guilt with which you, if by any chance you have deflected from the right path, may be afflicted by God the Judge in this name. But for you to ask of me, and to force us entirely to this, that we should cast away a dogma of the Fathers so ancient, and asserted by so many, while you yourselves wish to have no regard for our arguments and allegations, nor to consider at all with what valid defenses we repel the objections, does not seem to me to be equitable or consistent with the moderation necessary in those who, in good faith, are working to settle controversies and to reconcile peace. Indeed, it is fitting for those who are debating to yield something on both sides. I, for my part, yield, even cutting to the quick, even doing violence to my own sense. There is, moreover, in me a religious fear of straying from the right dogma. Nevertheless, behold...
A my part, I say, yields, and I subject myself to your discipline. You have me as a teachable auditor; lead me, O masters, where you will, as a disciple of ready credulity. Let the tome be published, let the dogma be disapproved, let the mention of the procession of the Holy Spirit from the Father through the Son be rejected from the declaration of divine emanations, if you so desire. Unless I, too, should follow (being not unaware of the contrary statement of the Fathers, nor ignorant of how great a risk it is to neglect so august an authority), I myself shall hold the guilt of either reckless persuasion or even heresy. For I wish to be both justified and condemned in common with you all. But if you are held back by a sense of shame, lest you dare to disapprove the sayings of the Fathers, and you cast the odium of that act upon us, so that you demand that we must attempt the abrogation of a doctrine clearly handed down by the saints—which you yourselves shrink from decreeing—I say that by my right and I contend that it is consonant with reason, and also necessary in deed, that I should say this: that for you, who fear and hesitate in so great a matter, we also should fear, lest perhaps later on we be found to have erred from the right path in that which we undertook on our own responsibility, without your precedent, and having offended, we alone should pay for our ill-considered audacity, having fallen into the ruin that you more wisely feared, B cast down into miserable destruction.”
The patriarch, together with his own, in order to ward off from themselves the force of the argument by which they were being pressed by Veccus, said: “And yet we did not write these things; we did not insert these testimonies into published libels. You yourselves alleged these things, and by you they were set in motion. It is therefore up to you alone to reject and revoke such things.” To this Veccus replied: “But what prevents you, he said, from daring to take up what you prescribe, and leading the way by example, a task of great value, since in this way you will take the brothers with you, and will join to yourselves those whom you have already cured of that disease of error or fault for which you accuse them?”
But while Veccus and those who stood by him were saying these things, they did not persuade the patriarch, who, rather, having been exasperated by their persistence, burst out with an angry stomach against Veccus, and did not refrain from insults; angered by these, the latter also made a reply no less indignant. And after he had (more ingeniously, however, than harshly) sufficiently chided the man with gentle frankness, he turned to the Augustus and cried out in a clear voice, even confirming his statement with an oath, that he should never hope for the storm by which the Church was then being troubled to be calmed, unless he who then occupied the patriarchal throne were removed from it. While he was shouting such things, the emperor, becoming inflamed and rising up, said: “Lo, what fruit we reap for our heavy labours for the Church! You are not satisfied with what has passed, but again you will trouble the Church, tearing it asunder with a double war, on one hand by the assaults of the schismatics, and on the other by your own—to speak most lightly—importunities, so that it seems to be in danger that the one, indivisibly coherent Church, already tumultuously fighting with itself and committing its own members to seditions, while they bite one another, should itself be consumed, for which Christ himself shed his own blood!”
The Augustus said these and many more things, and it was not obscurely evident that he felt it a most distressing occurrence that this meeting, far contrary to what he had hoped, should end in nothing either privately honourable or communally useful. Anyone beholding such deeds at that time might well have whispered into the ear of a companion: “Alas me! Is this a great thing, to stir up these matters, and for each one to seek to establish his own justice, when it would have been fair, once the scandal concerning the pope C had been removed, that all other remaining controversies be composed? But now, each one seeking his own justice, he will never arrive at the justice of God.” Thus they muttered. But as to how the matter eventually erupted, in our progress D
A we shall relate. Veccus, furthermore, and his associates, upon the dissolution of the assembly, had been received at the monastery of Cosmidion, but were kept there under secure guard; the emperor, while dismissing them, entreated them to incline toward peace, and, laying aside their contentiousness, to prefer to live securely, enjoying his favor; if they would not consent to this, he threatened to inflict upon them exiles in addition to their hardships: for he would not allow matters to proceed otherwise than he had ordained. Furthermore, he saw that they themselves, covered in infamy, would perish miserably unless they brought their minds to acknowledge the repentance for their deeds and seek peace. Although the emperor frequently signified such things, and promised that all would be well if they would only listen, they remained unmoved by the fear of sad things nor softened by the promises of happy ones, hardening themselves against both, and showing themselves ready to undergo any evil that the emperor might wish to inflict upon them, as men who had entirely resolved to endure any bitterness whatsoever rather than enter into any pact with those who had condemned them in such a way. Since this obstinacy of theirs left no hope for future repentance, the emperor was all the more incensed against them; having nothing left, and having tested all things in vain by which he hoped to be able to soften their spirits, he finally decided to condemn them to exile. He commanded them, therefore, to be taken by ship to the fortress situated on the right as one enters the Gulf of Astacus, which bears the name of Saint Gregory, where they were enclosed under the guard of Celts, over whom one of the emperor’s own guards was set. They were left there for some time without any provision for their sustenance, waiting in vain and in poverty for the necessary subsidy from the emperor, until, some time later, Patriarch Athanasius, setting out for the East and crossing the strait at Helenopolis, sent to them the great logothete, later created protovestiarius, who gifted one hundred gold pieces to Veccus, and fifty to Meliteniotes. For the third, Metochites, had already been taken away to his own home before that time due to illness, by the emperor's order.
36. Arrival of the emperor to John, who had been cast down from the empire. But it had escaped me to mention what occurred a little earlier: that the emperor, having departed from the city, had betaken himself to the fortress of the Nicetiatae at Dacibyza, and there had very officiously greeted the blinded John, and had excused himself as best he could, and with many tokens of benevolent affection and displays of honor had attempted to mitigate the B most atrocious injury inflicted upon him by his father, in order that, from the prince who had once been nefariously cheated of his wardship, he might elicit a voluntary cession of his own rights and a consent to the empire of his [the emperor's] own son, Andronicus; by which consent, whatever might be lacking to him for the legitimate possession of the principate might in some way be supplied, and his succession to the Augustan dignity might be rendered valid for the future, and free from every religious scruple and anxiety of conscience. C This having been obtained, he in turn assigned generously to the ex-prince [John] that which was abundantly sufficient for a luxurious life and for his other, even delicate, expenses, and quickly departed from there. After this, it finally came to pass that the protovestiarius, sent by Patriarch Athanasius—of whom and of whose promotion more will be said hereafter—met Veccus and his companion in prison. This legate of the new patriarch, Athanasius, endeavored in every way to console the two captive exiles and to soften the sadness of their former hardships, not even refraining from flatteries and blandishments by which he might gain their favor. He also relaxed the constraints of their confinement and removed some of the guards, replacing them with more placid ones, bidding them to hope for better things in the future, and even promising them no common place of favor before the emperor. Indeed D, having subsequently been led out of prison and having gained admission to the Augustan presence, they were not only honorably received by him, but they themselves, in turn, with much show of genuine affection and free confidence...
A were united, resting their entire case upon those who were at once wise and pious. The Emperor appointed for their assembly both a time and a place—the time shortly, and the place Lopadium (for he was setting out thither)—for the arrival also of the third party, Metochites, as they had requested, and he departed with the benevolence he held toward them. For the event concerning Gregory fostered hopes in them and in the Protovestiarius, and it occurred to them to hope for those things that pertain to peace. For it was no labor for them to have their own interpretation examined, since the interpretation of Gregory had been condemned, and wherever that man was placed, they themselves would altogether be placed, since both, having looked into the mysteries of God, did not grasp the truth. And it occurred to them thus to hope, but the Protovestiarius thought that with the one who was believed to be the object of their hostility being removed from the path—and having suffered the same things as they—they B would easily be of one mind with the Church. But these things were later; then, however, when those men had been led away into exile, as far as their part was concerned, the Emperor was at ease and in a period of truce, having sent away that which was causing distress.
37. Concerning the announcement of the pirate fleet and the moving of the imperial person.
When piracy proliferated by sea, since the navy was utterly neglected, and furthermore the Scythian [Tatar] force was announced to be surging forward (for Terterius was not able to assist either others or even himself), the Emperor sent orders to those dwelling by the sea, who were set as ready prey for the pirates, to retreat further inland so that they might escape the evil from thence. As for those dwelling in the interior of Thrace and Macedonia, since he knew that the marauders—should no one hinder them, which indeed appeared impossible at that time—would overrun them, he shut them up in the fortresses situated there, which did not provide much security. As for the Vlach [Wallachian] people—which was indeed spread out from the outskirts of the city almost as far as Bizye, and was superior in number—a nation rejoicing in difficult terrain and attending to their herds,
they would, it was feared, join the Scythians should they break through (as was expected), and would be induced to defect to them by the similarity of their life and perhaps the bond of their common origin; for their numbers were not easily counted, and they were a people whose youth was steeled to endure labor, and whose upbringing was not soft, as they lived in the rugged A places where they liked to dwell. Nor were they lacking in wealth from the produce of their flocks and herds, which were numerous and grazed in lush pastures. Finally, they were not unpracticed in military functions; they were accustomed to exercise themselves not merely in the daily hunting of wild beasts, but also by giving proof of their skill in frequent and not unsuccessful skirmishes against armed men. To forestall this danger, the ruler judged it best to transfer that nation from the Western continent to the East, and to settle them across the strait on the shore opposite the Byzantine city, but also, furthermore, to weaken their resources by many extortions, lest, conscious of their own strength, they might grow arrogant due to their numbers and the abundance of their provisions. Both were carried out with vigor: for they were afflicted with the greatest losses by the bitter exaction of immense tributes and were mercilessly compelled to move their dwellings across the Hellespont. This was more painful to them than any injury from taxation, for experience alone had taught them that they could scarcely live anywhere else, aside from other things.
At this time, another concern also pressed upon Andronikos, as he reflected that the body of his father, the Emperor Michael, lay in a region that would soon be devastated by a Scythian incursion; for it was only too likely that the rapacious barbarians, fearing no wicked act if they thought it profitable, would violate and carry off the remains, in order to extort money from those who honored the memory of the deceased. Thus, one of two evils would surely ensue: either he would have to pay a huge sum of gold to the arrogant, greedy B brigands to ransom the body of his father, or he would suffer the lasting infamy of having been negligent in so pious a duty, leaving the august remains of a Christian prince—who had been the author of his own life and throne—to be treated with mockery by the hands of a profane and impious barbarism. To forestall this evil, he allowed those whom he had set to guard his father’s tomb to depart from their station. The first of these was the eunuch Eonopolites, the Grand Drungarios, who, upon returning from there, introduced to the Emperor the hieromonk Athanasios, who was living in the mountains of Ganos and had previously been recommended to the Porphyrogenitos (by whom he had been greatly benefited). And he gave orders to take the body—which was in the monastery of the Savior near Selymbria—and deposit it in the very church in the same sarcophagus. And so it was that the body of the Bulgarian-slaying Emperor, which had been transferred and deposited there long ago by him [Michael] after it had been neglected at the Hebdomon, was brought back and deposited once more. The Emperor, having learned everything concerning Athanasios—rejoicing as much in his virtue, and even more because the times demanded it—assigned to him the old monastery of the Grand Logothete and kept him by his side as often as
that he might have him close at hand; and for this reason he assigned him a lodging in the vicinity of the old monastery which was known as that of the Great Logariastes, whence he could easily summon him for a conversation as often as he pleased. By doing this frequently thereafter, he left it uncertain to those comparing them by which of the two brothers Athanasius was more exquisitely cherished or more ardently loved: by Constantine Porphyrogenitus, who, having previously kept him constantly at his side, had honored him magnificently, or by the Augustus, who, once Athanasius was brought to him, deemed him worthy of favor no whit less.
II. How and for what reasons the volume was composed for Patriarch Gregory.
Thus had matters fared with Beccus. Moreover, when he was going off into his appointed exile, he departed like a bee, having left its sting in the wound; for he left his adversaries with the sharp concern of inquiring by what reasoning the dictum of the Damascene Father could be explained in an orthodox sense, in such a way that they would appear neither to assent to the exposition of Beccus, nor yet to stray outside the bounds of what was suspected. For as for the refuge that Moschampar had attempted to take — by affirming that this chapter of the Damascene was spurious, inasmuch as it was not present in certain copies of his works — it appeared not to have been prudently alleged, for the reason that it was read without any doubt in the book of long-standing authority among all, which was titled the Sacred Hoplotheca, where, among other testimonies of the Fathers, with the name of the author clearly attached, it was recited in just so many syllables, without any other softening, except that there was appended to it the slight exception of the Comnenian Augustus Manuel, noting that the Damascene, in explaining theology, did not say the Spirit proceeds *from* the Son, but *through* the Son and the Word. This passage of the Damascene, however, also held something for the adversaries of Beccus to use against the defense he sought to draw from it, a weapon entirely valid, but one by which those who would attempt to collect the passage and reject it as spurious were themselves of necessity to be confounded and smitten with a lethal blow. For the saint says in that very place: "But the Spirit we do not say [is] from the Son." These words, in the manner of a double-edged sword, pierce both sides simultaneously with a dual point—here the Latins, there those who patronize them in seeking to establish the equivalence and promiscuous interchangeability of the prepositions *from* and *through*. For if the "from the Son" is once forbidden, the remedy by which the Latins seek to escape through the interpenetration of the prepositions is utterly excluded. For the testimony of the great Maximus, which he relates to Marinus as having allegedly been mixed with the Italians and having learned from them the meaning of the addition—"From which they did not show themselves to be affirming the Only-Begotten to be the cause of the Spirit, but that they might declare his procession *through* him, and by this means demonstrate the inseparable and immutable [nature] of his essence"—these words are taken from the place in which Saint Maximus relates that the Latins were reprehended by the Orientals in two chapters. This testimony of Saint Maximus, I say, which clearly infers the equivalence of the two prepositions, they removed by the exception of falsity, flatly rejecting it as spurious. For they denied that that epistle to Marinus was found complete in the copies
A of the works of the holy Maximus, but only a part of it, mentioning the two chapters of the Latins that the Orientals impugned. The first and foremost of these [P. 74] was that the Word and Son of God did not assume sinful flesh, but that which was sinless before the disobedience of Adam; the second was that they attributed to the Only-Begotten the role of cause in the procession of the Spirit. As to the first point, they denied it entirely. The second, however, the one now before us, they sought to remedy, arguing that even if they should say the Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son, they do not hold that the Only-Begotten is the cause, but rather they speak so as to demonstrate the cohesion and immutability of the essence. Now, such an interpenetration B of the preposition—since that fragment of the epistle, not being found in the genuine writings of the divine Maximus, was not admitted—they judged inadmissible. They used only the statement of the Father from Damascus, in which he denied that he said the Spirit is from the Son; and at this point he was in great danger. Because of this, accepting the chapter and regarding the phrasing as that of a saint, they sought its remedy in the orthodoxy of the dogma, and chose to write a tome and put their piety into writing. To the patriarch, who seemed wise and indeed was in truth superior to many, they entrusted the writing of the tome, thinking it would be a pillar and a monument of piety for future generations, and for the supposed wickedness C of those who had deviated. Having undertaken the task, the patriarch who was in office composed a noble tome, at once laying hold of those who spoke in this way, and rejecting them as they were. This was first read in the Church, and on finishing it, someone with a very loud voice declared the condemnation of each chapter one by one, naming those who spoke and thought in such a way. Later, the Emperor himself signed it in cinnabar, and then the patriarch and the bishops in succession. When they came to the clergy of the Church, D since they wished the tome to be acknowledged by them as well, and particularly by those of the second rank—for they suspected that not a few of them were averse to the doctrine set forth in the tome—they thought it necessary to extract their consent swiftly to the decrees established by the common calculation of the prelates. But this task was not easily realized in practice; for except for a few, who it was observed were among those who had previously made a secession, all the other clergy at the first demand to subscribe showed themselves to be inflexibly determined to refuse either a subscription or any other new declaration of their opinion on these matters. Nor could they be led by blandishments to a change of mind, nor moved by threats. They considered their strongest reason for refusing to be the harshness recently exercised against them, when they were excluded from the sacred rites and subjected to such ignominy, as we have recounted. For, they said, if we could not be persuaded before—neither by benign invitations of every kind, nor by threats, nor even by the infliction of heavy punishments—to confirm by our own signature any of the things that were being publicly decreed, yet having subsequently suffered such atrocious punishments through the reversal of affairs for mere connivance, it is these very people who judge and pitilessly execute [...]
A the Council from which they had departed, and they judged them as enemies. But when the others spoke, they found them immediately unyielding and as standing firm as they were. With the exception of a few, and these were perhaps those who—having been divided earlier—had been fiery collaborators of those who came later, all the rest could neither be swayed by flatteries nor bent by threats; rather, what had been accomplished the day before served as a strong defense for them. For if they had not done anything voluntarily, nor out of any desire to please, but had signed only under threats and punishments—and yet had suffered so many dreadful things at the judgment of those people, and were still suffering, and this without even having signed unto dogmas—what would they become, they said, [P. 75] thereafter, if it should seem right to some (and there were many who were lying in wait) to also find fault with the Tome? And if this were to happen, who, they said, would be able to deliver us from their judgment? These things said those who were of the Church; yet many were those who were going about countering this difference of affairs, and inciting them toward signing; but as they did not persuade them when offering frequent assaults, and by casting them into suspicion of things those others had never known, namely, of B common association with them, as they were seeking and saying such things—thinking that this was a wasteland, and that the wasteland away from them was a kind of safety—they wandered about as vagabonds, deprived of honor, deprived of all income, and deprived of the casual nature of the life lived according to their own order. And when they were summoned again, and answered, and again in turn, and indeed even added this as a very great crime—that they seemed to be adhering to the previous ones and keeping their mind fixed there—the others, not even then wishing to bow, preferring an insubstantial suspicion to manifest dread, as they did not know exactly what it was they were to sign. For there was in the Tome, among other things, also the explanation of the divine Damascene, which stood as follows: "But if even in the most theological Damascene the term 'producer' (προβολεύς) is found used of the Father with regard to the Spirit through the Word, the expression does not wish to signify the procession of the Spirit purely into existence, but into eternal manifestation." They said they did not know what this meant, and sought the distinction
A between being taken as the cause, or at times as the dispenser and simple provider; in order that they might cast off one of these terms and embrace the other. For it seemed to them that the terms were equivalent: the procession into existence and the eternal manifestation. And those who were saying these things resisted to the end. Some, however, sought a written assurance from them, that they were safely holding the language of Theology, and that they themselves, if not before men, would at least render an account before God, the judge of the argument—not only the patriarch, but also the archpriests who were assigned the dignity of teachers; having sought and received these things, they signed.
2. That having taken the tome into his hands, Veccos complained and began to oppose it.
The interval was short, and once the tome had come into the hands of Veccos, it irritated him—like scratching one who is already itching. And indeed, though he seized upon many other things in the tome, he especially tried to demonstrate that this explanation of the meaning was not correct, as if the "producer" (*proboleus*) were not being used homonymously; so that it was either a fountainhead and simply a provider, or, if it were intended to maintain the term "producer" in a single sense, then both phrases—the procession into existence and the procession into eternal manifestation—must by necessity be declarative of one sense, and thus the two things which were supposed to be different would coincide into one and the same thing. Having written this and sent it to some of his own party, he offered his judgment on these matters to those who wished to examine them correctly. B [P. 77] But it did not escape them that he was writing such things; rather, they thought it was merely anger and a desire to retaliate, and they ignored and neglected the writer. This, however, crept widely throughout Constantinople, with those who heard it each keeping his own counsel, so that they might not appear to be complaining on their own accord, but saying that one ought to pay attention as best one could, lest the *logos* have some persuasiveness, and they themselves should be put in danger in the middle of two who were disputing. The refutation of Veccos offered food for thought to many, and they scrutinized the explanation accurately, and more so because not even those very people who had signed it C thought that he was writing out of anything but his own vexation and a desire for spite, and they overlooked and neglected the writer. This, however, spread broadly through Constantinople, each of the hearers being cautious, so that they might not seem to be complaining of their own accord, but saying that one ought to pay attention as best one could, lest the argument might contain something persuasive and they themselves might be put in danger between two contending parties. The refutation of Veccos provided matter for thought to many, and they scrutinized the explanation precisely, all the more because even those who had signed it D were giving ear to the readers, while they were concerned with the deeper meaning, lest, by passing over a matter worthy of accurate consideration perfunctorily, they might rashly acquiesce in prejudices regarding those things which it had been proper for them to have investigated diligently by themselves, and because they might be forced to blame themselves too late for supine negligence, since it behooves a fair judge to examine at leisure what is said by either side of those disputing, and to explore whether the speech of one not favored might perhaps possess a greater semblance of truth. Otherwise they would suffer what happens to those who are caught in the middle of two people fighting, namely, that they draw upon themselves a danger of their own from another's quarrel. Led by this scruple, therefore, the readers of the dissertation published by Veccos against the patriarch's tome examined the individual pages with judgment.
A Indeed, even those who were going through the contents of the tome did not accept the explanation. Thus, to identify the "procession" and the "shining forth," and on these grounds to blame the author as though he held the same views as Veccos, they did not judge to be wise, nor was it otherwise a seemly or defensible apology; for it seemed to many that in this way they were prosecuting Veccos for vices rather than for a transgression of dogmas, because they themselves, driven by the necessity of truth, theologized the same things as he, and what they had appeared to shun out of envy, this they now admitted for the sake of truth. Accordingly, they did not think it right to condemn the tome in this way; but that the name "producer," which is used by the Fathers in a particular sense regarding the cause of the Spirit—just as "begetter" is used regarding the cause of B the only-begotten Word—is applied simply to the "shining forth" and not purely to the cause of the Spirit, which he also called "procession" while denying the term, this they did not let go unblamed, and from this they accused him of a transgression of dogmas. The "producer"—
3. Regarding the chartophylax, and how the tome was criticized.
Something also occurred regarding the chartophylax C (for Moschampar had previously withdrawn from his office and from the patriarch, having taken offense at certain matters, and because of this he also had the Quinquecclesiaste who followed him) which strengthened that man's ill will towards the patriarch; and since they were unable to contend with him directly, they looked toward the tome, thinking that by the appearance of doctrinal security they would not be accused by many of empty dissension. And indeed, still desiring to stir up the blame leveled by Veccos against the tome, they latched onto the written words, and they too sharpened their swords. Indeed, spurred on by impulses, they anticipated others and those who were thought to be the chief bishops, among whom were greater men and the first D of the Ephesians, John (who was still absent but expected in Constantinople), Daniel of Cyzicus, and Theoleptus of Philadelphia—who indeed held great and abundant influence with the grand logothete. As all these set out to examine the opinion of the Cypriot closely by reading the tome, it pleased them not at all, nor did they judge the exposition of the Damascene to be admissible. Yet they did not think it otherwise consistent or plausible to accuse the author of the tome on the grounds that he wrongly denied that "procession" and "shining forth" meant the same thing, since from his very teaching it followed quite clearly that both these terms were synonymous; whence the patriarch could be effectively implicated in the condemnation of Veccos, who asserted the same thing, nor could he escape [the conclusion that] if Veccos strayed from the right dogma in this, he would himself be found guilty of the same error. But they were turned away from pressing him on this point by the fact that many felt Veccos was guilty of faults against discipline, but not of error against the right faith; for what he affirmed was necessarily to be stated by any theologian who explains the mystery of the Trinity as he ought, as would have been clearly apparent from the fact that whoever had attacked him out of stubbornness rather than zeal for the truth—when in turn they were reduced to the necessity of explaining what they themselves felt about the same mystery—could not decline using similar words and expressing the same opinion, so that the truth would drive them back to the same place from which the urge to accuse had retracted them. Therefore, they decided to enter upon a different way of attacking the tome, blaming him, namely, because while the word *proboleus* ("producer") was properly employed by the Fathers to signify the active principle of the Holy Spirit, just as the word "begetter" is used by the same to designate the active principle of the only-begotten Word, the writer of the tome had nevertheless referred the meaning of the word to a simple "shining forth" and not to the emanation of the Holy Spirit from a true active principle. By expressing this emanation with the word "procession," and by distinguishing "procession" from "shining forth," he would undoubtedly deprive the word
A of its notion of being a producer, which had been attributed to it by the Fathers as an emanation from an active principle. They contended that this was nothing less than a defection from the faith of Catholic doctrine; and on this account they thought it was right to charge the author of the Tome with apostasy. This secret murmuring of theirs, as they whispered it under their breath at the time, crept along secretly for some time, limited only to timid whispers: for the shame of the great names subscribed in testimony of their approval to the Tome prevented them from undertaking a public accusation of the faulty document. They were searching, therefore, for a way and an opportunity to be rid of the accusation safely and plausibly, protected as they were by the authorities of the Tome, and to show that Veccos—like that Nessus from the fables, who they say conquered the great Hercules after his death—had brought the cause of ruin upon his own judge and censor by his very own condemnation. Nor was it long before either chance or divine vengeance provided them with an extremely convenient occasion for doing so.
D 4. *Of Mark, and how the scandal of the high priests was kindled.* For a certain monk, Mark by name—not a Roman by birth, but a man devoted to the study of doctrine, and having long had the habit of frequenting the patriarch to attend his teachings—at that time, I know not at whose instigation or from whence, applied his mind to writing a commentary on the theological controversies that were being agitated, for the purpose of refuting those [doctrines] which were being bandied about by his master's adversaries. When he had worked through this, he offered it to the patriarch, who, running through it as he was accustomed to do with the other little writings of his disciple, corrected with his own hand certain things in it that did not please him, and returned it thus emended. Mark, regarding whatever remained untouched in his commentary thus reviewed as being approved in every respect, and congratulating himself not a little that he had been able to write so many things without giving offense, published his work with the sure hope of glory in a hurried edition, and added to it a preface for its commendation, teaching that the writing had been seen and, where necessary, emended by the patriarch before it was published. As the new book went through people's hands, some were moved by the fact that they noted in it, even more clearly than in the patriarch's Tome, that damnable restriction of the notion in the word "procession" by which the meaning of an active principle is excluded from it against the clear authority of the Fathers. When they noticed this, they rejoiced at having found a splendid opportunity to attack the master with less envy through his disciple, for it would no longer be legitimate for him to deny that he held exactly this opinion, especially since, while correcting certain other things in the disciple's writing, he had omitted to affix any mark of censure to that specific point—which accorded with his own opinion. Therefore, that which the patriarch had enigmatically hidden in the Tome in a perplexed manner, and in an ambiguous way cleverly prepared with subterfuges—like a riddle, one might say—was now, of course, caught and discovered openly, as the writing of his hearer Mark, which simply and clearly declared it, had been set forth freely and without being insidiously fortified by any deceits of allegeable excuses. B Accordingly, Theoleptus, having greedily snatched up the commentary of the monk Mark, approached the Grand Logothete—a man learned in other respects, and one accustomed to be engaged with great zeal for the investigation of truth in the disquisitions of theological dogmas, and who, moreover, delighted in showing this off to the multitude. Showing him Mark's commentary, he pointed out the faulty passage and with careful speech demonstrated its vice and the ruin it wickedly opposed to orthodox truth. Then he asked the Logothete whether he himself held the same view as Mark and whether he acquiesced in such corrupt doctrine. He indeed immediately denied it, and casting the volume away, clearly professed that he entirely...
A disowned it as evil and rash. While he was being cautious regarding those writings, because they contained a most grievous error concerning dogmas, he immediately brought out the volume of Philadelpheia, and said, "What else, tell me, does the statement made by the Patriarch seem to you to be in response to this?" The other immediately scrutinized the wording, admitted that it was the same, and accused the Patriarch of the greatest ignorance. And the matter, having become known to many, ascended even to the royal ears themselves. But he himself, having scrutinized what was being said, and seeing many great men accusing him, decided that the discourse must be corrected to what would seem most pious; for it was not right that they, while accusing others of transgressions regarding dogmas, should themselves be caught in the same, and that it should seem to them that evil is cured by evil. These things were not to be spoken to those around the Patriarch, but he himself heard of the drama, and, being insulted B in a way he could not endure, took it badly that he, being of such standing in learning and appearing to be an expert in dogmas, should himself be accused of transgression, and of the greatest [transgression], as they claimed. Whence, also, being asked to admit the error in his own writings, he was not persuaded, but became even angry and haughty. From this point on, those approaching the Emperor accused him of persuasion and even of heresy, and they gradually separated themselves from him, as having fallen into this not truly by ignorance and impulse, but by intent.
5. Regarding the patriarchs, [the one] of Alexandria and [the one] of Antioch. 6. Departure from the patriarchate of the patriarch Gregory.
For the events prior to this caused these [men] to be such and to appear so. The events were, first, that of the Alexandrian Athanasius, whom they had previously brought under many severe hardships [P 81], up to the point of his very exile, having caused the bitterness of the evils, in order that he might subscribe to the tome; and even though he, after many insults, ignored the tome, as not having the ability to approve it—being a foreigner and, though so great in knowledge, appearing unskilled in our matters—and wrote and signed another confession of his own, [it] C [was] that [the same]. D [5, 6. De patriarchis Alexandrino et Antiocheno. Secessio patriarchæ Gregorii e patriarchio. Hæc patriarchæ contumacia ut cunctis videretur intolerabilior, faciebant quæ paulo prius in summæ dignitatis auctoritatisque personas severissime in hoc genere agi omnes viderant. In recenti quippe memoria versabatur quam nulla fuisset habita ratio virtutis, doctrinæ gradusque conspicui, quibus Constantinopoli peregrinans eminebat Athanasius Alexandrinus patriarcha, cum illum ecclesiastici volente imperatore vehementissime urserunt ad subscriptionem tomi, gravissimis inflictis recusanti pœnis, usque ad ipsam ejectionem in exsilium. Quibus ille minis malisque non pertractus quidem prorsus est eo quo impellebatur: tamen acerba plurima perpessus, tandem aliquo modo satisfacere curavit, allegata excusatione plausibili, haud suum esse, hominis longe a sua Ecclesia vitam peregre privatam actitantis, scriptum præsidis ejus urbis in qua ipse hospes degeret, judicio suo subjicere, quod facturus videretur, si suum illi a se lecto subscribere nomen attentaret in signum sententiæ de ipso suæ, præsertim cum probare librum]
A of the saints, that which was trodden and plain, having nothing doubtful or suspicious about it. Second, the case of Arsenius of Antioch: how, having been heard only once, he was judged on the spot by the king as established by the Church of Armenia and condemned in the final degree, and was struck from the diptychs. And concerning the Emperor, that he left his father, who appeared to have sinned in the matter of the Church, unburied and without commemoration, and that he did the same regarding his former wife concerning the laudable memorial; and third, [concerning] his mother, that had she not herself provided the scroll of her faith, he would not have received her into communion. There was a great deal of reproach against the Patriarch, because, though appearing to have erred, he would not correct himself, but remained stubborn and wished to cast a stain upon the Church—of all stains the most grievous. For this reason, the affection the Emperor had held for him began to wane, and those against him gained B more power, until the aforementioned Athanasius came to him, seemingly ordering and counseling his withdrawal (for the Emperor had shared his mind with him as well, and he personally approved of these things, such that he even undertook the arrival to him upon the condition that he [the Patriarch] offer advice). Having renounced this and become disheartened, he spoke to the crowds on one of the feast days, delivering a homily to the people, [saying] that many had risen up against him and that he was not able to resist, being one against many, especially since even the Arsenites were promising to make peace if he himself were to depart; and finally, that he was departing as if by way of a test, saying that if they did not make peace, he would return and sweep down upon them like a beast. He went out and surrendered himself to the monastery of the Hodegon, though not so as to be completely inactive; for, with the chief priests and clerics of his faction gathering in with him, synods were held, judgments were restored, and the affairs of the Church were once again managed, while he was still being commemorated.
B But not even the scandal concerning him was quieted; rather, it was raised to a greater degree when John of Ephesus also arrived, for even from afar those against him had been taking advantage of the situation. The ruler was in conflict over whether he would be sanctified by the sacrifices while that man was being commemorated. For this reason, and because many things occurred among them [during] the emperor's persuasion—for Andronicus had communicated to him his own desire for this matter—counseling him that it was necessary for him in such a case to comply, he had sustained coming to the Patriarch and, knowing that it would not be a welcome thing, had volunteered the advice. The Patriarch was indeed averse to the hateful proposal and did not consent to comply. Nevertheless, broken in spirit and distrusting his own affairs, on a certain Sunday, after delivering a homily to the people in which he lamented that many had risen against him and that he was no match in resistance, being but one compared to many; that he therefore wished to yield, and that when he heard the Arsenites declaring that they would embrace peace if Gregory were removed from the midst, he wished to prove whether they were telling the truth, and therefore was withdrawing for the time being, with the sole intention of exploring what they might do, now openly giving warning that unless they kept their promises C and ceased disturbing the Church, he would return, and indeed as an angry avenger, erupting like a wild beast to attack them. Having spoken thus, he went out and hid himself by departing to the monastery of the Hodegon, yet not so as to abstain entirely from all the functions of patriarchal power: indeed, the leading priests and clerics of his party gathered to him, and synods were celebrated by them and judgments exercised, so that gradually Cyprius [Gregory] was resuming the entire administration of the Church as before, since he did not appear to have lost possession, being still accustomed to be mentioned among the holy things. However, the public offense toward him was not diminished in any part by this secession; rather, the troubles were increased shortly by the arrival in the city of John of Ephesus, whom we have said to have been already preoccupied and drawn into the party of the adversaries of Gregory. Amidst these things, a certain scruple gnawed at the emperor, doubting whether the sacred rites which were celebrated along with the public commemoration of the patriarch Gregory were truly of help to him for sanctification. Because of this, and other things in addition D
A to the envy which had been stirred up against Gregory at that time, his enemies seized the opportunity to suppress his name in the synaxes, and demanded his abdication so that they might proceed in due form to the election of a worthy person in his place.
At this juncture, Cyril, who had been appointed to the patriarchate of Antioch in the East, having been transferred from the bishopric of Tyre after Arsenius—a religious man, a friend of quiet, and full of ecclesiastical gravity—arrived in Constantinople. Necessity compelled him to do this, in order to render an account of his promotion, which would otherwise have had no firm authority, owing to the transfer from one throne to another, for the graces of which it was necessary to obtain [confirmation]. Although he did not obtain it at that time, yet returning eight years later, and having given promises that he would by no means mingle with the Armenians in anything while living in his own jurisdiction, since the affairs of Syria were already lost, he was finally admitted, and here he ended his life.
As he had arrived in Constantinople at that time, he was preferred above others to dwell in the lodging of the Hodegoi; the patriarch Gregory, departing from there, was moved to the hospice of Saint Paul in Latros, and there he withdrew B.
There he was disputing with the bishops and accusing the emperor, arguing that they, who had accepted him as a wise and honorable man and, moreover, as one holding the orthodox faith, were now not only covering him with ignominy, but were themselves stripping away the precious ornament of one who holds to the orthodox faith. Meanwhile, he was entirely occupied with writing refutations of the accusations that were brought against the Tome he had published. The sole purpose C of all these apologies was to demonstrate with what just cause and with what an upright heart he had set out to write from the beginning, and to show how innocent and free from every stain his opinion lay beneath certain words in his Tome that were obscurely placed and ambiguously tangled. These, he himself readily confessed, would necessarily fall into the opinion of Veccus, unless they were explained in the way he was then explaining them.
Arguing in this way, he requested that there be given to him by those whom he was challenging—the D prelates, that is, and the Augustus—a testimony fortified by every firmness of authority for the fullness of faith, by which they would openly profess that they had found that the patriarch Gregory had never wavered in orthodox dogma; and he promised that, once this diploma of testimony was received, he would in turn provide a duly written cession of the throne.
This trapped those men in a labyrinth of inextricable perplexity, as they reckoned with themselves that, after they had declared him orthodox without any doubt, the demand for the abdication of his throne would appear shameful and tyrannical to them. Wherefore, thinking that another more expedient path should be followed, the prelates prayed the emperor to allow a judgment to be duly instituted concerning the matter and the faith of Gregory, allowing it to be decided by the free votes of the synod. If by these he were absolved, and after accurate examination his writings were found to be clear of any suspicion of perverse doctrine, he would certainly be confirmed in the ancient possession of his patriarchal dignity and proceed to sit on the throne as before; but if he were clearly convicted of having fallen into an error concerning dogmas, then he himself, having been reduced to the order of the penitent, would ask for pardon and receive it once granted, and they, already rightfully released from his obedience (for what need of abdication would there be in that case, after all?), would seek elsewhere
A a person worthy to be substituted on the throne. The emperor admitted the proposal, and having sent certain men to Gregory, signified to him what his adversaries were demanding. Once he learned of this, deeming it an occasion—whatever it might be—worth seizing in order to wash away, once and for all, the disgrace that had been so shamefully branded upon his previously illustrious name, he readily agreed to what was being offered and displayed the utmost readiness to stand surety. A day for the trial was accordingly set, and the great palace of the emperor was designated as the place. The judges were named, and they gathered the B accusers. These were as many of the bishops and clergy as had openly separated themselves from Gregory. Everything was prepared, and the assembly was imminent. The appointed day arrived, on which all were expected to gather in the assigned place. The patriarch forestalled them all with his own party; early in the morning, while it was still dawn, a rider himself, along with those also on horseback, he arrived at the great palace, and standing outside as it happened, he made his own arrival clear to the emperor, requesting that the judges and the accusers also hasten to appear.
But the emperor, thinking more wisely and deeply, realizing that if the discussion were to take place, the matter would in no way proceed along a straight path, such that one of two things would inevitably follow—either that he would be revealed as wicked and be forced into silence, or the others would be admitted as slanderers, but the scandal would nonetheless remain, for C words are of such a nature that they fight with words, while things themselves are the only reality and not merely how they are spoken of—meditating upon these things, and especially that for those who were casting him down, what had been done would not stand upon entirely secure ground, inasmuch as they were being led to an "obelism" on account of the transgression of the one who had ordained him, and more so because they had subscribed while admitting the precariousness of their position, he judged it not in the interest of the common good for the trial to proceed. Hence he sent word and broke off the proceedings.
For the adversaries themselves, too, were cleverly fending off the matters of the trial, asserting that moving the arguments on many points would not be to the common interest; instead, they were persuading the emperor to send and ask him to provide a document of resignation. For, they said, the investigation would not be for the general benefit, whereas they themselves, from that point on, would acknowledge him as orthodox, and no one would entertain any doubt D concerning *your* own glorious reputation, he says, but that the only remaining scandal was caused by the document of Mark, which you yourself had already previously admitted in your removals to have been composed contrary to the orthodoxy of the common belief of the Church, and for these reasons it was just for the emperor
A to persuade him to agree to honorable, peaceable terms, together with the senate and the emperor, and not to depart from the distinguished monks. These things were frequently transmitted to him, but he did not persuade him. B And at many times, the emperor ordered Choumnos, who was then in charge of the accounts, and the writer of this history together, to be sent to say these things and to ask for the same from him. For the emperor was being tyrannized by his love for him, over the fact that he was overlooking the Church being tossed by such waves to this extent, and was granting nothing to those who were against him, so that he was proclaiming more than was reasonable, but trying to persuade them that he was orthodox and ready to make a truce once the scandal was removed; and this would indeed happen if he resigned with peace. These things the emperor said, having already despaired at the scandal of the many. But hearing him, that man was then quite evasive, since if they publicly denounced him for heresy, they secretly accepted him as being orthodox. For this reason, he demanded that this confession be made by them in common, once the state had gathered.
When he demanded this, as if he were immediately going to provide his resignation, there was great reflection, and a great schism occurred between those who were separating from him—some not even enduring to confess him as orthodox, since if they confessed it, they would immediately have him installed on the throne even against their will, and, with the cause of the delay having been removed, he would have it from then on and rebuke [P 86] those who were in the wrong and lay hold of the dignity. These were the men around the bishop of Ephesus and the bishop of Kyzikos, who actually said that it was better that Gregory be judged, and that they themselves receive what would happen, and neither cover up the evil, nor hide one thing while saying another, while managing affairs under the guise of economy. But those inclining toward managing affairs through economy
Chapter 8. How the archbishops, having gathered at the palace, confessed Gregory to be orthodox.
C Since he was inquiring in such a way that, from this point, he would promise to immediately provide his resignation, duly written, in return, a great and complex deliberation was instituted by those inquiring as to whether it served their purpose to humor him. On that occasion, those who had once cut themselves off from Gregory were again divided among themselves, swept up into the divisions of factions, with some not bearing to have him declared orthodox, because they said that this was nothing less than confirming on the patriarchal throne the one whom they all wished to see cast down from it. For who would not see that, once the blemish of the perverse doctrine had been purged—which was the sole reason alleged for his deposition—he would persist with the best of rights D upon the authority received long ago, with his adversaries supporting him even against their will, and they thus paying the penalty for the imprudence with which they had entered upon that path of his removal, which was, in fact, the most apt of all ways to strengthen him in the possession of the throne? Therefore, he would undoubtedly from then on use such great patriarchal authority to take vengeance upon those who had accused him; he would attack these wretched men from his superior position as he pleased, following the dictates of his anger and subjecting them to those punishments which his own private pain, in the recent memory of his betrayal, would persuade him could justly be imposed upon unjust informers. The authors of this opinion were the prelates of Ephesus and Kyzikos, each dragging many along who adhered to them. The unanimous speech of all these was heard, that it was altogether necessary to have it aired ec-
Aclesiastically as to the cause of Gregorios, and to permit, by the votes of those expert in these matters, whether he rightly or wrongly held his view concerning the dogma, and that the outcome of the dispute was not to be feared. For events, of whatever sort they might be, were already demanding from them their own risk. It were far better, they urged, to heal the festering wound with bandages than to adopt the most dissolute of methods, consciously concealing some things while blathering about others; and, in short, to plaster over the deceit of vain excuses with inexcusable deeds and writings.
Opposed to this, the opinion of the many gathered strength from the other side, maintaining that a way for a settlement should be sought, and that the proposed condition should not be spurned. For they argued that the certainty of the promised abdication could be sufficiently secured: and if this were established, what harm would there be in consoling Gregorios by giving him the testimony he sought, since it was sufficiently clear that the scandal of the many arose not so much from his Tome as from the writing of the monk Mark? Let Gregorios merely present himself ready to give a document of abdication once he has received the guarantee; and if it can be obtained from him, he should bind his faith to this now by a formally signed writing. Then, surely, his reputation would be cared for by the drafting of the testimony concerning his sound doctrine that he demands.
Compelled, therefore, by those sent by the emperor for this very purpose of obtaining the promised abdication, Gregorios—not being ready to construct this in writing—affirmed with every asseveration of words before God (for so he spoke) that they would not be the first to publish a document by which they might assert for themselves the glory of an incorrupt faith in dogma, before he himself had in turn duly given a written document for the abdication of the patriarchate. When this response was reported, the Ephesian and those who adhered to him thought that they should not acquiesce, and alleged many reasons why they contended it was neither safe nor honest to do so. The Philadelphian, on the contrary, with his own party, interpreting that mention of God interjected by Gregorios as a true oath, maintained that that promise ought to be seen as sufficient, for if Gregorios were to attempt to backslide from it later, he could at once, as one caught in perjury, be lawfully cast out of the patriarchate and canonically deposed.
The Ephesian and the Kyzikene, nevertheless, persisted in the opposite opinion, contending that by no reason should a man so justly suspected of heresy, with his crime not yet purged, be admitted to any kind of communion whatsoever, and they claimed that it was absolutely necessary that his cause be examined; and that they would not suffer themselves to be anticipated by any judgment, as they already regarded it as certain that he would be manifestly convicted of perverse doctrine.
The emperor worked with them, and in a precise discourse endeavored to lead them away from this stubbornness, but he profited nothing. Hence he was tormented in spirit, grieving that a wild beast, soon to be led into the nets, was being driven away by the untimely clamor of ill-advised hunters, and bearing most grievously the fact that an endless chain of most tumultuous quarrels was being drawn out. Instigated by this concern, he called both these prelates in the night and discussed the whole business with them most copiously and urgently, showing how fitting it was to seize this one opportunity for an agreement that had been offered.
And when he attained nothing from them, he blazed with anger and rebuked the most stubborn obstinacy of both, upbraiding them as being enemies of a settlement and enemies of peace, wishing for the Church to be cast into eternal contentions, and to stir up new storms while the old ones were not yet fully settled. Having thus angrily rebuked them, he ordered them to depart from his sight, while most threateningly commanding his own men to go, to abduct the contumacious ones, and to hide them away, separated from one another, in distinct custodies, forbidding any access to them by anyone. In this way he would preserve both until they should be subjected to the lawful judgment of their cause by the new patriarch to be set over the Church, and especially the Ephesian, who had already published to the Asians letters of most foul detraction filled with accusations against Gregorios.
Having dismissed them in this manner, the emperor attacked their followers with a violent onset and, as they were now weaker in the absence of their leaders, easily deterred them, and having drawn them over to his own opinion, he attached them to the rest; who indeed B having discussed not a few things concerning the matters at hand, finally grew angry with those who would not be persuaded, chiding them for their hardness and lack of prudence in being always eager to disturb the Church and to rouse waves that had not yet been fully calmed. He rendered them both—the two of them—out of his sight, having enjoined upon them with gravity to be shut up in the monasteries and to remain without going out until, upon the appointment of a patriarch to the Church, their affairs should be examined, and especially those concerning the Ephesian, since he had already gone so far as to write the worst things against Gregorios to the Asians.
And thus having sent them away, the sovereign, behaving with greater gravity toward those who had been left alone with them, immediately showed them to be compliant and in agreement with the others. These men, having been gathered together accordingly in the great palace, with the emperor present, and with the presence of the entire senate and the clergy and almost all the monks and not a small portion of the laity, and with those themselves also present who were with Gregorios...
A in the beginning, Theoleptos of Philadelphia stood up and became, as it were, a single tongue for many mouths speaking against Gregorios. He proclaimed that the patriarch who was present was orthodox, and he attributed all that scandal and the entire schism from him to the document of Mark, as if the disturbances had been stirred up from that source; and because it had been rejected by the patriarch himself, no one should have any longer any hesitation concerning his being orthodox. Having said these things and expanded upon them intentionally, while the others stood in silence, he brought his speech to an end.
9. Document of resignation from the throne by Gregorios.
Gregorios, having rendered thanks to the emperor and to those who had assembled, and having duly satisfied them, departed from there, and at his leisure on the following day he composed the document of his resignation, which reads word for word as follows: “I was advanced to the patriarchal throne and to this high dignity of the chief priesthood neither by my own efforts nor by the solicitations of my friends, but I ascended, as God alone knows. B [P. 88] Since this has come to pass, and I have now continued for six years and more in this ministry, I did and said everything so that I might lead those who were scandalized and separated from the Church into peace, and unite them to her. But this effort of mine resulted in the opposite of what I had intended, so that some cried out that this desired peace could never come about unless I, leaving the patriarchate, were to get out of the way. I did not endure to remain in the position, seeing the affairs of the Church so afflicted by opposing factions, but, judging it more desirable, I preferred to see those who were previously offended C and at variance united to the Church and to one another, rather than to remain in possession and enjoy the honor of so illustrious a principate. Therefore, for the sake of their peace in God and the cessation of the soul-destroying scandals, I make a resignation of the patriarchal throne and of the patriarchal authority and dignity, though not, however, of the priesthood; for this, by the mercy of God, I shall keep for myself throughout the whole span of my life, because I make this resignation solely for the sake of the peace of the many and their reconciliation with the Church, and not because I am conscious of having done anything that should exclude me from the priesthood. D Henceforth, it is permitted, with the good pleasure of God, to elect another patriarch and to raise him to this patriarchal throne and high priesthood, who, with God as his ally and helper, as a canonical patriarch and legitimate chief priest, will be able to gather into one and join together the sundered parts of the Church. May this come to pass through the compassions of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ, implored by the
prayers of our all-pure Lady, the Virgin and Mother of God, and of all the saints. A Having written these things, but not having signed anything at all, he showed clearly that he was reserving the throne for himself, and was providing for the time of honor for himself by neither signing (for it was necessary for one who made a statement to sign) nor indeed giving any cause for the resignation other than the peace of those who were in schism; for if this did not materialize directly, as he believed, it followed that he himself, still holding the high priesthood, was still the patriarch. For he who is irreproachable in his priesthood, and who resigns the honor for one sole manifest cause, it is clear that if that cause does not come to pass, he himself would be [patriarch] again, wishing only for that which he is worthy to take back. B Those about the emperor, however, and more than anyone Theoleptus, who was stirring up everything, merely because they had received a letter of resignation from Gregory, gave thanks to him as if they had already gained the whole, and they persuaded the others not to be meddlesome, not to seek more, not to demand his subscription, but to be content with the letter alone, since it was in his own hand, and they ordered them to be satisfied and to depart in this manner. Gregory, however, was reconciled with those who had long been hostile to him and was making amends; and he was even sending gifts to others, namely to those of the clergy whom he had deprived of their rations due to the scandal that had divided them at that time.
10. The retirement of the patriarch to the monastery of Aristine
To Germanos of Heraclea and Neophytos of Prusa, however—whom he had indeed deposed for certain causes—he was reconciled. As for Germanos, because, having initially embraced his sentiments and parties, C even cooperating in his promotion by admitting him to the monastic profession prior to the patriarchal ordination, in which function he had taken on the relationship of a father toward him, he had nonetheless later recoiled from the previous judgment and the duty of father toward him with great offense, cavilling that the confession of the one receiving the monastic habit from Gregory had not been complete, since he—as he claimed afterwards to have learned from certain authorities—had not confessed among other sins that he had communicated with those considered to be polluted by crimes, not only in prayers and psalmodies, as he said, but also in the participation of the holy fragment of bread; and for these reasons he, as high priest, had written an excommunication against the patriarch. D As for Neophytos, because he had countersigned and agreed with him, having at that time acted proudly toward them as if they were ignorant, he now later became kindly disposed, and sending [emissaries] he received their forgiveness and granted them his in return. And at the monastery of Aristine, situated somewhere near that of Saint Andrew...
in Crisi—a neighborly choice of location, following the protovestiaria Raoulaina who lived in that very monastery of Saint Andrew, by whom Gregory was kindly supported, she liberally providing what he needed—he gifted himself [i.e., took up residence].
11. How they attempted to go through the Tome of Gregory.
A The Emperor, freed from such cares, yet with much of the misconduct concerning the Tome still creeping about, did not think it right to leave it uncorrected. He kept convening assemblies, gathering men alive in spirit and wise, and ordered them in a common consultation to examine the Tome of his helper (that is, Gregory) in isolation. And first, when they had gathered together at the Great Palace along with the Emperor, an earthquake suddenly struck and dissolved that assembly and the consideration. Then, at the palace of the Blachernae, they gathered again and considered it more carefully. And while some argued one way, and others another, over many days, in the end, since there was no way to agree upon the correction of the text, they finished by completely removing the explanation, deeming it better not to explain the passage at all than to risk disaster by explaining it.
B These things having happened in this way, the Emperor was once more greatly distressed at the schism of the Arseniates, and was wholly occupied with whether it were possible to reconcile them and unite them with the Church. For they happened to have fallen into factionalism among themselves, so that they became two parties: the majority followed Hyacinth, while others, a few, were wavering under the leadership of John Tarchaneiotes, splitting hairs more scrupulously than the others, and because they had called upon God in fire the day before yesterday, the followers of Hyacinth, labeling those others fire-worshipers, were determined to sever even their very association with them. For John deemed it not only ignorant, but also impious, to test through fire what had been determined by the Scriptures; therefore, he severed himself not only from the Church as before, but also from those very followers of Hyacinth, so as not to consent to anything they did. For this reason, he was also disregarded by the Emperor, as was to be expected, and was exiled and imprisoned in the fortress of Chele. C When, therefore, the Church was widowed, the Emperor, wishing to make a trial of the schismatics...
A regarding the reconciliation of those long since cut off, the Arsenites, ordered that John be brought to him from prison, and he placed him in the old arsenal near the Blachernae palace, under [open] guard, permitting him to have as frequent and lengthy conversations as he wished with his friends and acquaintances.
The Emperor, having in mind to bring both factions of the Arsenite sect to an agreement, and then—their peace having been achieved through his own efforts—to persuade them to be willing in good faith to enter into a plan for establishing peace with the Church, attempted first of all to sound out the mind of John through certain skirmishes, so to speak. He even sent Athanasius of Alexandria to him on a certain day, because the Emperor had understood that he was held in great authority by John, and that he was someone by whom it would be easier than by anyone else to persuade him to agree to a matter he had not previously believed.
Athanasius, therefore, having set out by the Emperor’s order to John, recounted all that he thought suitable for bringing him to be reconciled with the party of Hyacinth, so that afterward, the entire sect, already united in harmony, might be gathered in a certain place before a full synod, and, having laid aside their grievances against the Church, might [give their] right hands to the Emperor who would be present there, for a peace most longed for by him, with a certain hope of the great favor to be received from him if, by adapting their wishes and minds to the common good, they should finally bring about a universal peace, God willing, under the Emperor’s guidance. For God is in the midst of those who agree with one another and seek Him; He who says He is (as He truly is) the peace of those who are far off and those who are near, and is prepared to give this to them, especially when someone seeks not his own glory, but His.
When the Alexandrian had set forth these things and several others like them, he heard in response nothing but the twisted quibbles of ambiguous statements and delays in the requested matter—things which, it was sufficiently apparent, were astutely disguised to evade a precise refusal—and, in short, evasions of this kind by which the hope of concluding something salutary was extended into an uncertain and empty infinity, in order to avoid the hateful necessity of the present moment. This is a type of deception that obstinate, weak men are accustomed to use when they are pressed by those in power.
The Emperor, even though—when he saw that he had failed in his first attempt to procure the private pacification of the Arsenites, which he had hoped would be a stepping-stone to a universal one with the Church—he saw clearly enough how desperate it was to lead them to consent with him, since he had been unable to persuade them even to come to an agreement among themselves, yet, [driven] by the burning desire for peace with which he was inflamed, and thinking that he should not refrain even from attempting the “impossible,” as the saying goes, he did not cease for a long time to invite the Arsenites to concord, having gathered them in frequent synods, confronting them with most efficacious exhortations, and turning every useful argument to that end.
But when he profited nothing at all, he finally, being deeply offended, gave free rein to his anger against John in the crux of the matter, especially after it was discovered and proven that he had added the seeking of imperial power to his obstinacy, when [there were] produced in the midst, at one of the customary meetings, scarlet sleeves ornamented with an inlay of pearls, and certain insignia of that sort D bearing the character of imperial rank, which, having been found in the possession of one of his domestics, gave a juster foundation for the worst suspicion against him, the more his other contumacy made the belief of a wicked character of every kind in him more prone.
This man, therefore, having been removed from their midst, and on account of a cause now most invidious—although, if it were considered by itself, it was neither plausible nor had anything to do with him—he was again cast into prison; the Emperor endeavored to soothe Hyacinth, if he could, honoring him with frequent and most benevolent audiences.
[Ρ 92] Τοῖς δὲ περὶ τὴν Ὑάκινθον κηδεμονι- Aνοιαν οὐκ εἰς μακρὰν γενήσεσθαι. Ἀλλ᾽ ἦν ταῦτα πάντ' ὄνειρος ἐντυπούμενος τὰ ἀνύπαρκτα. Ἀμέλει τοι κἀκείνους μὲν, ἐπεὶ πολλάκις προσμίξας καὶ τιμαῖς μεγίσταις δεξιωσάμενος, ὥστε καὶ τοῖς Bτις φλοῖς ὑπεξανίστασθαι προσιοῦσι καὶ μακαρίζειν τὰ πάθη καὶ παρακαλεῖν μὴ καλὰ καλύπτειν κακοῖς, τὸν ὑπὲρ Θεοῦ καὶ τῶν θείων ζῆλον ταῖς τῆς αὐτοῦ Ἐκκλησίας ἀποστασίαις, τέλος ἀφίησι, σκέπτεται δὲ μετὰ κοινοῦ συνεδρίου καὶ ἱεροῦ ὁποῖος ἂν καὶ κληθείη εἰς προστασίαν τῆς Ἐκκλησίας μετὰ Γρηγόριον. Ἐκεῖνοι μὲν γὰρ καὶ ἀκίνητα διώκουσιν ἐῴκεσαν ἄντικρυς, ἀθετεῖν μὲν ἀξιοῦντες τὸν Ἰωσήφ, ἀθετεῖν δὲ καὶ δόγμα τῆς Ἐκκλησίας τὸ διὰ τοῦ Υἱοῦ ἐκ Πατρὸς ἐκπορεύεσθαι, ἀρχιερεῖς δὲ φιλοκρινεῖν, καὶ ἱερωσύνην τὴν μὲν προσίεσθαι, τὴν δ' ἀποσπέμπειν, καί τινα τοιαῦτα πολὺ τὸ δυσχερὲς καὶ εἰς ἀκοὴν ἔχοντα μόνην μια τινι συμφοροῦντες ἀξιώσει καὶ λέγοντες ὡς εὐαγγελικῶς τε καὶ κανονικῶς τὰ
To the caretakers around Hyacinth A it was not to be long before this care would be realized. But all these things were a dream, impressing upon the mind things that had no existence. Indeed, since he had approached them many times and welcomed them with the greatest honors, so that he would even rise before them as they approached and pronounce their sufferings blessed, and exhort them not to conceal good things with evil, [and not to let] the zeal for God and divine matters [be lost] to the defections of His Church—he finally let them be, and consulted with a general and holy council as to who might be summoned to the care of the Church after Gregory. For those men seemed to be pursuing what was absolutely immovable, demanding to rescind Joseph [as patriarch], and to rescind also the dogma of the Church that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father through the Son, and to judge the high priests, and to accept some ordinations while sending others away—and [bringing together] certain such things, which had much difficulty even in the mere hearing of them, into one single demand, and saying that in an evangelical and canonical manner [they would settle] the affairs of the Church, if the entire administration of them, with the assent of… B C D
A the emperor, were permitted to them. All of them, shuddering at the very sound of such words, and being admonished by these things, brought before their minds the semblance of the evils to which religion would be exposed if committed to such moderators, from whose inconsiderate actions—by men who were prudent as well as vehement—one might justly fear that they would send a more dangerous storm upon the recent state of the Church, which, without previous warning, would threaten ruin, the ship being overwhelmed in silent waves before the sailors, aroused by the sound of the swelling sea, could employ their art and effort to break the force of the surging waves. Therefore, these things having been dismissed, as has been said, the synod consulted together regarding the election of the patriarch.
13. Concerning Athanasius, how he advanced to the patriarchate.
And indeed, they vote for three, as is customary: first, Gennadius, who had indeed been chosen earlier as bishop of Justiniana Prima, and having accepted the vote, had come and stayed for a long time, but then refused; second, James, a man simple in his ways and full of piety, who had been entrusted with the prefecture of the monks of Mount Athos; and third, Athanasius, who was then dwelling in the mountains of Ganos, having originated from the regions around Adrianople; the Monopolites had commended him to the emperor, who was then residing in Constantinople, and the emperor numbered him among his first intimates. B When the first was informed and was pressed hard to accept, because he would not be persuaded, the judgment concerning the remaining two resided in the will of the emperor, and the scales of favor inclined from the second toward the third. Thence Athanasius, having been summoned, did not immediately yield, but excused himself regarding his own unworthiness for such a height. Still, by a kind of outward force from the emperor and the synod, he consented and accepted the invitation.
And immediately, the beginning of his initiatives were of a different kind from those that had preceded. For he wished to travel the roads on foot, to wear a rough garment, and to wear sandals crudely fashioned by his own hand, and to live in all simplicity. But it was not for these things that he was sought. For the duty of shepherding as one ought does not consist in garments, sandals, and handiwork, but rather in a soul well-disposed toward this, containing the love of Christ, through which shepherding according to Christ comes to be. C “For if you love me, Peter,” He says, “feed my sheep.” There is surely no other love for Christ than to have this very love of Christ in one’s soul. And the love of Christ is that by which He gave His own soul and died for us, while we were still sinners. This, in turn, suggests compassion toward those who sin. For who, when caring for his own member, does not treat it gently, does not cherish it softly and benevolently, even if it is teeming with worms? Who would malignantly slander it and, insulting it with public mockery, would serve up his own member—that is, his own vice—which, if by any chance it should come to the notice of others, he ought rather to excuse with solicitude? For the care and sense of his own affairs distresses everyone, according to the saying of Pindar. And Christ indeed, for the sole reason that we are Christians,
A and because we bear his same holy name, considers those who are rotten with transgressions as his own members. We, however, become arrogant and sit in judgment of men—being ourselves sinners, yet appearing to ourselves as just—and condemn those who are accused, even when they are not guilty. One we subject to harsh punishments, another we castigate with reproaches, another we treat with suspicion, and we often condemn as guilty of evils those in whom they do not exist. Those who act rightly we do not praise as they deserve, turning away in our own haughtiness, yet we treat those who have stumbled as if we ourselves were virtually without sin. But Christ permits it, and the first of the disciples falls; and he who later was the illuminator of the world was previously a persecutor and vexer of the pious; and while other apostles were taken into discipleship, some from the humble practice of the fisherman’s craft, others from the sordid profession of the lucrative tax-gathering business, before they appeared to be utterly evil—in the case of Paul, grace withdrew and held back, so that he might first appear as an evil man, a persecutor, and a punisher of Christ’s disciples. Then, I say, that light from heaven shone round about him, by whose rays he recognized that he was in vain attacking the One whom he was soon to adore as God. B And what happened then? Did Paul, having been converted, hide the tokens of his former error and, dissimulating his conscience, sell himself to his disciples as if he had always been innocent, gratefully concealing the benefit of the grace that healed him? No light from heaven would have shone upon him then, nor would he have known that he was in vain persecuting the One whom he would later worship as God. What then? Does he therefore become proud regarding the disciples and hide the kindness of grace? Not at all, but he proclaims and magnifies mercy. Such is Christ, and such are those chosen by Christ: He, in order to legislate compassion; they, in order to show the kindness of grace first upon themselves. But those around him say otherwise; they claim that sinners must be punished and that those who sympathize with them must be condemned. And let them be received, they say, only when they are added to those who are worthy and, as seems fit to them, have been bitterly and unfeelingly punished. But let me state my own feeling, and whether it be praiseworthy or otherwise, let it receive blame. I contemplate divine philanthropy spread out to all the faithful, and I do not despair of salvation for anyone who has sincerely repented, but I restrain the grace of mercy for myself alone and tremble at the divine judgment as something to be justly brought upon me, no matter what I may do. Nevertheless, out of mercy I am bold once again, and because I am of Christ, I have considered the very being punished by Him to be a sea of philanthropy. This I have often prayed for myself, despairing of no one’s salvation, even if they have committed the most trivial
A transgressions; let only the leading toward the good, and the repentance for base things, be present. But as I said, I have only mentioned these things because the harsh and inflexible character of those around him later plunged the Church of God into many troubles. But these things are yet to come.
14. How the things spoken about Athanasius were examined. But first, when it was heard 96 that he had been chosen for the patriarchate, many people emerging from their lurking-holes started—some testifying many uncharitable things about him, and for the most part pointing toward [his] autonomy and mercilessness, because he had even ordered that an ass be punished with the loss of its eyes, allegedly for doing an injustice to the monks’ vegetable garden; while others acknowledged him as a wonder-worker, [claiming] that having gathered vegetables in a single day, he had saddled a wolf with them to transport them to the monastery—(that "wolf" was [actually a] man, although they were mistaken, as was discovered later)—and [further claiming] that when a honeycomb had been sent to him by someone from an apiary, he himself ate [some] and sweetened his throat, and prayed B that the sender might thenceforth have sweetness carried upon his lips for days, the prayer for him being fulfilled by the mouth [being filled] with honey. These things were said by them, and the strange and unusual nature of the man gave many on both sides reason to believe. And that he was considered, according to all likelihood, an ascetic and [was] thought to be precise regarding the commandments, the witnesses were those who attended him—men [who were] pallid, and emaciated, and naked, and unadorned, not speaking much, not engaging in unnecessary conversation, and appearing to all to be sullen and unyielding and inexorable in their judgments, which were indeed C clear evidences of the teacher's precision and of his scrupulousness regarding the commandments.
These things, being spoken and noised abroad, reached even the ears of the Emperor. But he, being well acquainted with both many things and with men who speak falsehoods about themselves—moved allegedly by envy and other passions with which life is filled (a proof of which is that no one spoke [of such things] when he was a private citizen)—meanwhile, deliberating upon the things spoken about him, and weighing the bad against the good, and judging prudently as if he discovered
the true good, it is necessary by all means that the labor should likewise vanish for him regarding the bad, as they are subsistences arising from the absence of good things, just as the same house cannot contain light and darkness at once. A Having thus held fresh assemblies, and finding those who spoke well of him, and having received reliable witnesses from them who would testify under oath, he immediately discusses these matters with the people generally, and first of all he demonstrates that malice arises from the ill-disposed mind of detractors, and he triumphs over that evil treasury from which slanders against men arise. Then, placing the witnesses to the good on both sides, he ordered them to say what they themselves knew about the man. They spoke so persuasively, also adding oaths—those for the loyalty of the Emperor and indeed others customary as well—that everyone marveled; and the Great Logothete was even persuaded to commit these things to writing.
10. Concerning the advancement of Athanasius to the patriarchate.
Thus indeed, when those matters concerning him had been spoken of once and twice in public assemblies, since it was necessary that he also be advanced by the Emperor, the ruler, cutting short [the delay], B chose the Justinian Triclinium—which Justinian the Younger had built, a noble, large, and wondrous place, appearing oblique to those first entering the doors, and extending from the highest point to the lowest without any interposition of a middle floor, bright in walls, bright in pavement, and excessive in beauty; which in time having been tilted to one side by a violent southern gale, fell later, so that it is not even known to those who see it if there was a house there formerly—to be the place for it. Standing then in this triclinium, the order of events having taken place magnificently and as was fitting, he is advanced to the patriarchate. At once a shaking, as it were, signifies this to the earth, [P 98] and a certain boy near the Nea, having fallen, is endangered by the fall. On the fourteenth day of the month of Elaphebolion, the one advanced is ordained on foot. A customary sign also occurred then: for as it was calm and the air was not stirred by any winds, the lamps hanging in a circle around the seat—which were considered by everyone of the clergy as a sign at the outgoing of a patriarch (for those lamps used to shake when the hymns were being completed, and the one watching the outgoing would be struck with awe at the then-present [ Patriarchate ]) — moved. B And just a little later, he even takes the divine sanctuary.
...all the clergy; and when they realized that it had indeed happened in this way, no one doubted that this Athanasius too was destined to be cast down from his seat while still alive.
A It was a matter of common knowledge, not merely concerning those who presided over the patriarchate—and these things had indeed come to pass in the times of Arsenius, Germanus, Joseph, John, and Gregory—but also concerning other divine matters, that these were then seen to be shaken. And many who were watching carefully examined what was taking place, even if they did not ask the emperor who was standing in plain view. But when the man from Caracallus of Nicomedia placed his neck under the yoke of the holy Gospel, and the people were already waiting to see the divine oracle (for many people draw certain proofs from these things regarding what is being done, even if such observation is not entirely necessary), a statement regarding punishment appeared in the holy Gospel; for it read: "For the devil and his angels." B And the first to see this, the bishop of Nicaea, was pained, and he endeavored to conceal it as much as he could, and by turning the leaves of the book he showed a different passage. For it read: "And the birds of the air make their nests in it." But even this seemed to have much that was incongruous with what was being performed; and as they were zealous to remain unnoticed in their first attempt, they did not succeed in concealing it, but the truth was bruited about, though not so as to lead to a condemnation of the events since then; for they did not say that they should be ascribed to chance (for chance is far from things concerning divine matters), but they hinted at other omens of this kind, which are common in the speech of the public, which seem to have missed the mark in their outcome. One of these was the report that had long been current—that at the consecration of Arsenius, the first text in the Gospel to occur was, "gnashing of teeth," which indeed portended a grave misfortune. C Yet, as his life subsequently declared, this omen was in no way fulfilled in the person of Arsenius, even after his deposition, for his life was quite tranquil until his death. But if the threats of such an oracle were not realized in Arsenius himself, it seemed, however, that in those common and subsequent disturbances of the Church, they had abundantly exhausted the fierce force of its sad significance. To this pertains the saying that a certain man of those times, filled with God, when he heard that Arsenius had been appointed to the government of the Church, is said to have exclaimed: "Arsenius is the beginning of D scandals," alluding, to be sure, by a presage to the first two letters of the name *Arsenius*, which also begin the word that in Greek designates "beginning," and likewise to the third letter of the same name, which is the first in the word "scandal." These expectations and secret presentiments of the mind—which were consistent with the interpretations of the observers and with the observations of the events—accompanied the way in which the clergy and all the people received Athanasius as patriarch.
16. On the serving monks of the patriarch Athanasius.
[P 99] A short time thereafter, external monks, I know not from where, arrived to serve him. And these men did not hesitate, some openly and others secretly, to do things which no one would say were the actions of spiritual men, inasmuch as they were not at all worthy even of men who profess only a tolerable mediocrity of conduct and were in some degree moderate. For they acted cruelly toward many, and especially toward monks, under the plausible pretext that they were indifferent by habit, and
A they would break the fasts of the week by eating twice, and they would often break them even with wine and oil; they used appetizers, and were supported by the many, and as if some of them possessed money. And they were so fastidious about these things and punished them with such penalties that not only did those who were indifferent fear and tremble at their supervision, believing that they would be punished most severely if merely informed against, but even the one who seemed most careful. And as they say of the scorpion, that when it emerges from its hole it does not know where its sting may strike, but immediately casts it at all, at plants and stones and animals and the earth, doing what is its own nature, so too was the practice of these men entirely, injecting bitterness into those over whom they were set, because of the rigor which was believed to belong to him who presided as patriarch over all. To one, the discovery of gold was a conviction; to another, the newness of his garments; to another, the use of two or even three tunics; to another, that his cross was of silver B or gold, and that it had been crafted with luxury; to another, that his little knife was well-wrought, and to another, that his handkerchief had been whitened, as he had washed it, as he had been slothful, as he had behaved as a friend, as he had approached a physician on account of illness. And who could number the charges which the suffering nature of these wretched men drags along like trailers upon the stage of life? Attaching themselves to these things, they would reproach, dishonor, drag about, and did not cease claiming C they had the right to throw them into comfortless prisons. They also used to exact money from monasteries, under the pretext that they were drawing them out as material for passions, claiming to dampen the fire of passion from this source; but if the sparks were, as they supposed, gathered into their own hands—O Hercules!—they were breeding for others, as they say, the ulcers of physicians. Nevertheless, a not inconsiderable hatred was nurtured against them by many, and an implacable anger, and all loathed them, those alone being excepted who were in alliance with them, and whom they used as their own. And upon many they inflicted heavy blows for supposed faults, out of a feigned zeal and rigor, showing themselves to be inexorable and unyielding to all, as though they D were stifling the over-fervent heat of avarice (for thus they spoke) with the kindling of discipline; yet in their own hands the sparks of this fire were clearly seen flickering, so that one might exclaim that trite saying: "Ho, you yourselves, physicians of others, you are teeming with ulcers!" Against them, as was likely, a huge hatred boiled up in the souls of all, and an implacable anger burned, for all detested such dire bitterness, save only for those who stood by them as though in a covenant of faith, whom they used as domestics and as being familiar by internal necessity. They heaped oil upon the flame of envy, because they did not even refrain from beatings with their hands and with a cudgel, sometimes bruising those whom
A they thought to have discovered in a fault, rejoicing to display this very thing for their own glory. From this, all could understand how great was the force of divine zeal burning within their souls, which could not restrain these sudden outbursts, nor delay for any consideration the punishment of those who had acted wrongly.
Everything was filled with sorrow due to anxious fear, and an extremely unsettled heat of souls, as the majority, while considering with horror both the indignation at present events and the ruin of those imminent, were driven to despair. The evil grew daily, while the monks, having rushed headlong in their determination, by constant new exigencies, and by the simulation or pretext of exact religion, by examples of inhuman bitterness, overturned and confused everything everywhere, so that there was already present there a form of Church and city just as Anaxagoras, describing the origins of the world, affirmed the parts of nature to have been mixed and randomly heaped together, before the advent of the mind which introduced order. B When the ecclesiastics perceived such things, they disapproved of most of them in silence, and reckoning them excessive and monstrous, they condemned them. And when, supposing that many of these things were happening without the patriarch’s knowledge, they approached him to indicate those things they believed to be most intolerable—namely, that against ecclesiastical gentleness, force and lashes were even being cruelly inflicted on many by his savage ministers, which, because of its atrocity, everyone supposed was being attempted by these men against his intention and without his knowledge—he, most unexpectedly, approving the matter, even went further and rebuked those who warned him, as being dull in their sense and detestation of evil, saying that it was apparent even from this that a callus had grown over their religion and their own zeal, since they were so little offended at the sight of culpable failures. For if they were moved with the horror appropriate to encountering what was done wickedly, they would surely have been led, by the very hatred of evil, to recognize the honesty of the opposite good—namely, the punishment by which one is amended—nor would they rashly censure as excessive the punishment which, by comparison and proportion with the sin it punishes, is understood by those who judge rightly to be just and moderate. C By these most unexpected rebukes, the patriarch, driving away from himself these primates of the Church who were gathering to admonish him, stripped away every excuse he might have among them for an opinion of ignorance of the things being done, and drew all the odium upon his own head, having no regard for anything, provided that he openly showed that he was aiming at and directed straight toward one goal: to remove from the midst and eradicate root and branch entirely any remission of discipline—commonly called indifference—which he thought had crept in over a long time due to the neglect of spiritual leaders, but which had now become ingrained, defending itself with a certain authority derived from the prejudice of custom. The patriarch, using a plausible pretext against that which his ministers were rightly and orderly tending toward, was inexorably punishing those who were reported, or who offered themselves for censure, for transgressions of ancient discipline, the mention of which was accustomed to be softened by the term "indifference." And it was openly apparent that the patriarch and his satellites were in accord in this judgment, from the fact that he himself also, by himself, distressed not a few he encountered with bitter words, reproaching them for indifference, not understanding, as I suppose, that the "indifferent," being placed in the middle of good and evil, from its variation in comparison with opposing extremes draws opposite qualities, so that it is considered evil when compared to good, but conversely, when it is compared with evil, it takes on some form of goodness. D Whence that moderately wise, common, and approved sense is: "It is well with us, in this state of unstable life, where we are unable to attain to completely imperturbable tranquility, if we are agitated by only moderate disturbances." Moreover, he used that particular, rigid righteousness of virtue—which he was never hiding but holding before himself—as a norm to which he wished to measure the characters of all, and whatever in anyone declined from it, he sought to direct. Acting in this way, he could not but
A irritate many, who, provoked by his feeling, awoke to the suspicious observations of an importunate censor, probing to see if they might discover in him something that could justly be carped at in return, and suspecting strongly that they would not search in vain. As they persisted in this undertaking, they were goaded more and more every day by the fresh instances of his harshness and most inhuman conduct that were constantly occurring and being bruited about. Although others of a more moderate disposition excused these things, attributing them partly to his virtue, partly to his innate inclination and the spirit of his austere character, and others finally laid the whole blame for his bitterness on the man's long-standing habit of living from boyhood in retreat and solitude—not even now, when exposed to public life, being able to endure what was unusual, but constantly restraining himself from retiring into his hiding-places and silence (for it was noticed that even now he sought to have everything secret, and avoided, as much as he could, the eyes of witnesses, preferring to psalm alone, to eat alone, and to carry out all the duties of life in private and in secret, as he had been accustomed by his long asceticism)—nevertheless, they endured this hard rule, as if under a rod of iron, only when driven by great necessity, which no one is able to escape. In this common feeling, the more refined fairness of certain people who blamed only themselves for the evil was evident. For they had long since determined not to arrogate to themselves judgment over matters concerning others, but to turn their whole attention of mind upon themselves, to watch over themselves, and to see to their own improvement, wholly unconcerned about others, except in so far as the condition of the affairs they were involved in, by urging them, made it profitable to watch one another for the sake of provoking charity—not at all where no fruit of this inspection was apparent other than the gratification of a prurient curiosity, seeking an idle place to plant a sting, exploring the actions of others, while many individuals meanwhile did not restrain themselves within the bounds of equal modesty, but curiously investigated the things they suspected, and sought to take revenge if matters were handled otherwise than they wished. B It was those who, while not themselves the cause of the evil, nonetheless applied the responsibility to themselves—among as many, that is, as did not have in mind to judge others, but to turn to themselves, and to observe themselves as was fitting; and if they observed one another, it was only for the inciting of love. They yielded for the time being to what was happening, but did not busy themselves with those who were doing the acting, whatever they were doing. But to those who were inclined to be meddlesome and to retaliate when suffering, and to receive reports from others—plausible, or otherwise derived from likelihoods, as he was unknown to many because of his seclusion for the sake of asceticism—it occurred to them to blame themselves.
17. The death of the expatriarch, Gregory of Cyprus.
[P 102] These things being so, Gregory, who had been patriarch, worn out by a long illness—or, as some said, ruined by an ailment of the soul, which arose from the fact that he saw himself so honored in the past and so despised today—died shortly after. B Permission was granted for his funeral rites to be celebrated with the chanting of psalms according to custom; but that he should be buried as a patriarch—a thing he seemed to have hoped for, even while wanting to retain the priesthood during his resignation—the emperor signified by many messengers sent for that purpose that he entirely forbade, and he expressly prohibited his own relative, the much-devoted Raülaina, from attempting anything of the sort. He was therefore carried out to his funeral as a private person.
18. The departure of the emperor to Nymphaeum.
He himself, having arrived in the East, sent for the Porphyrogenitus, who was accompanied by his wife—she who was herself of the line of the Raouls—and had moved on with him to the East. Having passed through the regions of Bithynia, and having accomplished all that was mentioned shortly before regarding Beccus and the rest, he halted at Nymphaeum, bringing also Muzalon, invested with the honor of the Great Logothete and the newly-bestowed dignity of Protovestiary. Having encamped there, and managing from there the affairs of the East, he also considered the matter of his son Michael: to bring to him from the King of Apulia the woman who was to live with him, she who was of the son of Baldwin and the daughter
of Charles, Catherine, who, at the time when the feast of the holy Apostles is celebrated, was in the relationship of aunt to the son of Charles, through her mother, the daughter of the King of Hungary—herself being aunt on her mother’s side to the Emperor Michael—and who also urged on the marriages of the two brothers in turn. A Wherefore, the Emperor left him in the city, but led the Italians who were acting as mediators for the match to Nymphaeum, spending lavishly and striving to show them favor, inclining his whole self to this alone, and almost even bringing about the necessary bonds. For they entreated him at length, and the alliance seemed highly advantageous and worthy of the Emperor. The Emperor also held out good hopes to them, and they were glad at what was upcoming, as though it were bound to happen. When, later on, the author of this history arrived at Nymphaeum, having come from the city, they, learning of his arrival, asked the Emperor—as he was sitting at dinner—to allow them to question the man who knew what was happening in the city, so they might hear how the young Emperor was faring, and where and with what activities he was busying himself. B And the Emperor commanded them both to inquire and for the historian to give them the answers to their questions. And as they listened to everything that was being said—since, of necessity, they were told good news—it was clear that they were receiving this well and were giving thanks to God.
19. Events concerning the Porphyrogenitus Constantine.
While the second year was running since the Emperor had been encamped there, there occurred the following thing, which was the beginning of great evils for the Porphyrogenitus Constantine. C For since it was the feast day, and it was customary for the magnates to gather before the Emperor and for the matrons to have audiences with the Augusta, there were present, because of this, many other very important women; among them was the noble old woman Strategopulina, who had been born to John Ducas, brother of the former Emperor, and had been married to Constantine Strategopulus, the son of the John who had been blinded while he was Emperor. D As the time had not yet come to enter to the Augusta, she was sitting outside somewhere, waiting for the call. But then the wife of the Porphyrogenitus approached with a finery and luxury befitting her, with many attendants and followers. And when she drew near to her aunt, or rather her grandmother (for that woman’s paternal grandmother was a first cousin of this one—if indeed the one was born of the brother of the Emperor who held the rank of Sebastocrator, while her grandmother was born of the other brother, who had been married to the Protovestiarius Raoul Alexius), when, therefore, it was necessary for the old woman to rise from her seat as the younger woman approached, in accordance with what was proper for one who held the second place of honor after the Augusta, she, relying on the authority of her old age and because she considered it unnecessary and beneath her to humble herself before a woman who was not only so much younger, but also, as it were, subordinate to her by maternal right, being the daughter of her niece, did not rise even to her feet,
A coldly alleging the incredible excuse of infirmity, as if she were unable to make even a slight effort to show that respect on account of the weakness of old age. The woman, unaccustomed to such contempt, bore that refusal of the respect usually deferred to her with the greatest impatience, and was moved by a great heat of anger, indignant that she, a daughter-in-law of the Emperor and wife of a man who surpassed the despots themselves in dignity, obtained nothing fitting from a matron who was indeed a kinswoman of the Emperor, but who otherwise held no rank above a private condition, since her husband, while he lived, had attained to no height of office. Her anger soon passing into sickness, she revealed her grief with complaints and lamentations. This incident did not escape her husband, who, being himself ambitious, and also moved by the lamentations of his wife, sought to both vex the old woman in return and comfort his own wife for the insult. And indeed, he could not bring himself to do anything irremediable to that woman, who was noble and considered by the Emperor to be his grandmother; but she did have a familiar, a man named Constantine Maurozomas, whom she was said to use for secret assignations. This seemed to him the cleverest course: for by exposing her to indignity, the rumors spreading against her from the powerful would triumph. B Sending, therefore, immediately, he had the man seized and gave orders to his attendants to lead him through the entire marketplace, and, after stripping him shamefully, to inflict many severe lashes upon him. This having been done and reported to the Emperor, he was greatly distressed, taking the audacity most ill, and being exceedingly vexed that while he, the Emperor, was present, his brother should have acted in this way towards anyone without his regard, and for such a cause. Nevertheless, repressing his anger, he ordered that the man be released as quickly as possible, and, though with difficulty, yet at length, the power (of the Emperor) prevailing, the punished man was set free. From this time, a wrath combined with indignation settled upon the Emperor, and he turned over in his mind terrible thoughts of how he might humble one who was raised up beyond measure, taking the event upon himself and considering the dishonour of being slighted a grave matter. He began to keep his brother away from his presence, and when absent, he neglected him entirely; and he would not grant him a cheerful look when he approached. When he rode with him, he removed him from his proximity, and he pretended to withhold the intimacy which, in the past, he had allowed him from close quarters. C For the other man also truly laid hold of the reality of things, appearing to many of those who served under him, and to many D of those who flourished with hoarded wealth and luxury. He was concerned for his own, even if he were present, even if…
A he were absent; for the arrangements were bequeathed to him by his father in the amount of more than sixty thousand in gold, and his aim was, if he survived, to increase this even to a hundred thousand. And he subjected to his service great men and officials from the palace, and because of this he drew much from his revenues, while spending little, except perhaps for ambitious gifts, and this very thing also lay under greater suspicion; he luxuriated with many, and was arrogant toward the subjection appropriate to the Emperor. Seeing these things, the Emperor, and also being incited on account of that cause which had recently occurred, would pass the nights with the protovestiarios, who was laid low by a long-lasting illness; for the kidneys were afflicted with very painful suffering, and there was nothing offered for treatment which did not further afflict the sufferer. And because of this, since he [the Emperor] was not able to execute his revenues himself, the Emperor went to him daily to deliberate concerning public business. B Then, being with him, he was troubled by his brother’s behavior and by his overstepping the boundaries, and it seemed to both that it was to their advantage to humble him. But for a time this was considered by them through feigned excuses and turnings-away, and by doing nothing to soften his character or bend him toward a more servile manner. But he, seeing the Emperor doing these things, and by frequent approaches, pretended to serve the Emperor more than before, and wished to appear to be bowing before his instruction. Whence, sending to the protovestiarios, he asked him also to intercede with the Emperor not to be angry, and if anything had been done through a fit of passion when anger had overcome him, to be sympathetic and not wrathful. While time was being spent in these things, and the monk Sabas, who was currently doing the work of the patriarch, was present there, and he did not cease from committing the customary works of vice, with the Emperor C permitting it in all matters, perhaps not judging it fitting nor otherwise seemly to stand in the way of what was being done by the words of piety of the patriarch’s men, and of not seeming to hinder those things which were thought to be for the correction of the many. For what Sabas did, he considered to be entirely the will of the patriarch, as he himself later revealed while apologizing to one of the hierarchs; for as he related to the Emperor, it was likely that the patriarch would have been hindered by him, the Emperor being present, if
he did not wish it. He was himself apologizing, claiming that he did not even deem the patriarch worthy of being summoned by the Emperor in the manner of a certain A Nicetas Tzykandelas, and even belittling the very name (for he was of the lowest rank in the palace). Thus it was that the monk Sabas, being intimate with him and appearing faithful in many things, after hearing this—as he claimed—from him, reported it to the Emperor, suggesting that the Porphyrogenitus had spoken to him in secret, claiming that as soon as the Emperor arrived in Constantinople, he would expel the patriarch and replace him with the monk Kosmas. B The Emperor, therefore, grew even more furious, if he were indeed being provoked to war by the Porphyrogenite, who was also slandering the patriarch, conciliating his own men, and collecting not-so-good suspicions. A short time later, some of the Porphyrogenitus's men approached the Emperor and reported that he was saying and thinking great things to the dishonor of the Emperor, and that he was passing his nights with the protostrator Strategopoulos. They also offered themselves as ready to convict them, provided the Emperor would accept. They said these things, and the accusations seemed entirely plausible to those who heard them given the surrounding events. C Because of this, the ruler, taking great and most careful precautions both that he might not be seized and that no revolution might be attempted by him—as he suspected—sent for his forces to be brought to him, and ordered all his men to gather at the palace by daybreak. And then, when the market was full, he sent and summoned the one held under accusation, who knew nothing of the cause. D When he arrived quickly, the Emperor, being unable to restrain his anger against him, began to heap reproaches and insults upon both him and Strategopoulos, who shortly after was also found to be implicated in the same charges, and shouted in the presence of the whole senate: “What passion has seized you, you wretches? You are the worst of base men! Having received so many benefits from me, you were not content with the already blameworthy delay in returning thanks to your benefactor, but you have gone so far as to endeavor to repay benefits with malevolence, and you are being proven to have plotted such atrocities—this one against his own lord and brother, and the latter against the one to whom he owes it first that he still beholds the sun, and subsequently that he has heaped upon him the benefit of his preserved life with further gifts!” When both of them, in the face of this most unexpected invective, vehemently denied that they were complicit in, let alone convicted of, any crime plotted against the Emperor, and demanded that the evidence be brought forward so that they could refute it.
A As is wont to happen in such matters, a murmur grew in the Church, with some struck with amazement, others horror-stricken, and still others, over and above what was reasonable, agitated by a certain pretense of concern—both in their words and in their actions. Finally, the Emperor sent men to take possession of their houses, which were filled with wealth, and especially that of the Porphyrogenitus, while he committed the men themselves, the one to prison, and having confined his brother in one of the royal chambers of the palace, kept him under secure guard. Their provisions, herds, and storehouses of all kinds of goods—gold, both coined and fashioned into vessels and cups, and silver, and robes of every variety—were added to the public treasury; and that luxury and display became, in the space of one hour, a spectacle and a mockery. It was truly a marvel to those who saw it, that such a weight of luxury and the splendor of such a house, which did not fall far short of the imperial residence itself, could in an instant be reduced to nothing, and that those brilliant and hitherto famous things should be extinguished by the blowing of a harsh and baneful wind.
These things were done in the month of March, at which time the accusation of treason was leveled at many of the palace officials and not a few of the ecclesiastical order, on account of the Porphyrogenitus, as if, through the benefits they had received from him, they had favored his pretense to the throne. B For in truth that man was extremely lavish, and drew many to himself through his kindnesses, so that while they were grateful for the benefits bestowed, it was by no means proven that they were aware of, or even counseled, the things that he himself, as his accusers claimed to demonstrate, knew and desired. Therefore, the Emperor thought fit to pardon many of the palace officials who had been recipients of his liberality, judging that, while the gifts were beyond the worth of the one who gave them, they were suitable for those who received them. He deemed it a matter of charge against the Porphyrogenitus that, being the brother of the Emperor, he should give away gifts at a rate that even the Emperor could scarcely match; yet, he judged that the grandees who received them, even if they accepted more than was fitting, were nevertheless righteous in accepting such things, as they were making submission to him, which was natural in the circumstances. But Sabas, having seized upon specious charges against those of the Church—not only those who had been recipients of his favors, but against them all, indiscriminately—openly named them traitors, as if burning with zeal for the Emperor, and before all men branded them as evildoers and, in their hearts, hostile to the sovereign.
20. On the monk Sabas.
Therefore, he went through their revenues one by one, seizing and detaining the payments not yet released, and demanding back those already received, saying that they had forfeited the legal right to enjoy them by reason of the crime of treason, of which he considered them fully convicted and rightly condemned.
Seeing and enduring this, the clergy were inwardly incensed; they were not so much disturbed by the odium of the accusation itself—though for those who were well aware of their own innocence, yet had no way to clear themselves, it was indeed most troublesome—as by the fact that they were already feeling its most sorrowful consequences before any condemnation had taken place, being already deprived of their own property. This immediate experience of intolerable losses, stinging them with the deepest pain, prevented them from taking the consolation that their own virtue, in the endurance of moderate misfortune, might otherwise have suggested to prudent men. Tossed by the greatest waves of sorrow and finding nowhere to turn, after they had for some time been tormented in that confusion of mind, as if in despair of a remedy, they groaned in silence, but finally decided to flee to the patriarch, reckoning that he was ignorant of what was happening, and that, once he knew of the calumny aimed at the Church, he would disapprove of it and declare his indignation. A Having therefore seized an opportunity when Sabas had come to the patriarch, they also approached and complained bitterly of the evils they were suffering, and having exaggerated with resentment the atrocity of the common calamity, they turned to its present author, Sabas, and said in the presence of the patriarch: “What kind of madness, you wretch, incites you against us? For what reason do you punish all the clergy indiscriminately, without any distinction between the innocent and the guilty, when fairness openly demands that, if anyone of our order is implicated in a matter of guilt or is suspected by law, a judgment should be instituted regarding him, while others, whom no evidence of crime urges, be left quiet in the enjoyment of their unsullied reputation?”
To these things, Sabas replied with many points that were little to the purpose, providing nothing at all that clearly acquitted him or excused the harshness of his violent accusations. B Whence the clergy strove greatly with the patriarch, asking him not to allow the already manifest wickedness of the man to rage in the dire oppression of the innocent, but to restrain it by timely chastisement. Hearing such pleas, he remained—I know not why—cold and unmoved; and when they urged him more ardently, he continued in silence, seemingly having no ready answer. At last, as if unable to resist the force of so many men pressing upon him at once, he was for a moment swayed, and ironically seemed to permit them to avenge themselves upon their calumniator, Sabas, by repeating the words of Pilate to the Jews who were demanding the death of Christ: “Take him yourselves,” he said, “and crucify him.” C This remark of his, spoken from a frame of mind unknown to many—though perhaps uttered at random—being heard at that moment, was deeply offensive or rather incredibly infuriating; those whom he had thus mocked separated themselves from him, and from that time forth, they abstained from all communion of prayers and sacraments with him, bearing witness to their grief with heavy complaints and manifesting before the Emperor that they expected redress for such a notable iniquity. D But the Emperor, being entirely dependent, as has been said, on the counsels of the protovestiarius, and being hindered from free access to his familiar oracle—since the most severe agonies of the kidneys allowed him no respite even for a moment—through his advice and deliberation, promoted the quaestor Nicephorus Chumnus to the dignity of a mystikos, admitted him into the circle of his secret confidence, and consulted him daily on these matters.
Chapter XXI. How the clergy, and subsequently the bishops as well, were scandalized by Athanasius.
He also took on as a partner for himself—for he did not yet have confidence in that man alone—John Glykys, the official in charge of petitions. And indeed, in that same year, taking the condemned men with him—the brother in a litter (one might call it a portable prison) and Strategopoulos in chains—he left Nymphaion on the twenty-eighth of Maimakterion and entered the Great City. Consequently, a certain mute anger arose on the part of the emperor toward those of the Church. The formal charge brought against them was disloyalty, but the accusations concocted for this purpose were, in fact, pretexts on the part of the patriarch, as if they were distressed by the charge of disloyalty that had been leveled at them by Sabas. Thus, he gathered them together in one place, basing his claim on certain suspicions, to establish a collective disloyalty among them all, ostensibly to protect the minister of the patriarch. For he likened the whole group to an outflow of the sea, arguing that it is in the nature of the entire body to be known from the taste of a single drop. And he claimed that A these were not merely individuals, but that all of them were liable to the charges based on the suspicions held against some.
Even though they were struggling against the emperor's wrath over these matters, other events were also occurring that disturbed the emperor and moved the bishops to seek the reasons for which these actions—which seemed foreign to the laws of the Church—were being taken. For it was not fitting for a physician to punish, but rather to heal the sufferer, nor for a high priest to chastise, but rather to heal the transgressor. Therefore, they gathered together to deliberate in common, and they B decided to send a message to him and to inquire (for the terrible deeds had touched even the bishops). The message was sent while they were sitting in the ecclesiarcheion, where he had allowed them to assemble in order to question him and to learn how these actions were being perpetrated; for they affirmed that these were not ecclesiastical, but tyrannical acts. Stating these things, they also added the deeds that had been committed, both those done outside and those done within. When he heard them, he looked at them in such a way that he seemed entirely C to disregard the matter as if it had nothing to do with him, adding that he was complaining about the matter of their questioning.
As for the first paragraph, the Latin text notes: "And when he did not yet feel that that one man sufficed for the bulk of affairs, he further assigned to him as a helper John, nicknamed Glykys, who was in charge of responding to the petitions of suppliants. Having provided for these things, in this same year, leading the condemned with him—the brother indeed in a latticed litter (you might call it a portable prison), but Strategopoulos in chains—he entered Constantinople on the twenty-eighth day of June. There, it appeared that he was harboring in his mind a certain mute rancor toward ecclesiastics, which, as the tokens of vengeful wrath burst forth, he could hardly conceal. The cause of the hatred was alleged to be a zeal for new things and the crime of plotted defection; as proof of this, their withdrawal from the patriarch was seized upon. For he interpreted this as having arisen from indignation over information discovered and brought by Sabas regarding the secret machinations they were weaving against him. Therefore, having summoned them one day, he spoke in an opinion thoroughly congruent with the sentiments of Sabas and gratifying to that minister of the patriarch: for he openly showed signs of a faith in himself that was D less than constant, and observed that in some of them this extended to all, and that it rendered the whole order equally guilty of a disaffected will and of a plotted defection. He said, in effect, that when saltiness is detected by the taste in a stream of water drawn from the sea, it is concluded by a certain argument of what taste the entire sea itself consists, because nature bears in the drop the same quality that infects the whole liquid from which that drop was drawn. Wherefore, although specific arguments for accusing each one of them individually were not equally present, he nevertheless argued that it was right that they all be subject to the suspicion that was seen to reside in some. Such an imperial speech was heard at that time, which was truly the haughty look of a master who was offended, rather than the speech of a just judge investigating the truth of the accusations, preferring an arbitrary will. But it was of such importance to satisfy the patriarch by verifying the acts of his minister, of whom he himself did not obscurely declare himself the author."
As for the second paragraph, the Latin text notes: "21. Athanasius also seriously offended the bishops. And this hatred of the emperor toward them, thus declared, would undoubtedly have proceeded to a longer and more severe vexation of the clergy, had not other things that Sabas had rashly attempted, and which had begun to collapse, moved the bishops—although these were intended primarily against the clergy, they nevertheless redounded also upon the bishops—to make inquiry into the business; whence it happened that the emperor also was troubled and wavered in the intention he had shown to defend with the full authority of the empire all the acts of the patriarch and his ministers. The bishops, therefore, moved because the incursions of Sabas had already begun, as it has been said, to reach even to them, having held counsel among themselves, decided to meet with the patriarch and demand from him an account of those things which seemed new and abhorrent to the use and laws of the Church. For just as physicians are not to inflict punishments on the sick, but to apply timely medicine to drive out their diseases, so also the office of a prelate consists not in striking and avenging, but in healing and recalling those who have sinned to the fruit of amendment. These things being thus established in their assembly, they informed the patriarch that the bishops who were gathered together desired to speak with him. The place assigned for this was in the house of the great ecclesiarch, where, when the patriarch had come, the bishops, sitting down, said that they wished to hear from him the reasons for the things that Sabas was attempting: for these, they said, were not ecclesiastical, but tyrannical acts. To these words they added an exposition of the vexations by which Sabas was bearing and driving the wretched clergy, and how he was savagely and bitterly attacking the whole ecclesiastical order, secretly and openly, within and without. Upon hearing these things, he seemed to disregard them entirely, just as if they did not pertain to him at all, adding and complaining..."
A and not to care, but to say that this was a pretext for secession from him, and because he did not know it was just to make a defense to them. And when they attempted [to talk to him] again but did not persuade him, they too, even then, judged it right to separate themselves from him; for they had no ground of defense to offer to those who justly reproached them for participating in such actions. Those around Gennadius and Sylæota also urged the emperor not to leave these matters unexamined, but to assist the bishops, who spoke well. For they were indeed the very men who, with favorable testimonies, had supported the one raised to the patriarchate, and they themselves also again perceived that the one who had been testified to did not tend the flock poorly in other respects; for God, as everyone knows, does for not all things provide to all. These, indeed, are God's, as everyone knows. And often, one who is not to be rejected in terms of moral character might stumble in terms of the canonical, and again, one who is excellent in that might not attain to the political virtue. To restrain wickedness is good and proper, but within the measures and laws of Christ. And the law of Christ is, in all respects, the holy Gospel. For there, when the disciples sought to bring down fire from heaven B to consume those who did not obey, they heard the Master say that they did not know of what spirit they were. For the Spirit that called them, even if they did not yet know it, was full of benevolence, humanity, and condescension toward those who sinned, but not of vengeance, indignation, and punishment. While they were saying these things and inclining the emperor to doubt, those who were ill-disposed toward him for certain reasons seized the occasion to stir up trouble; they wrote and delivered absurd accusations, and openly showered him with revilings, [P. 112] isolating him from the many, so that even while someone was standing on an elevated place and was offering the customary blessing after the hymns were finished, some who were standing below would shout and speak against him, as though they were being pushed beyond what was reasonable by their hatred.
22. The departure of Athanasius from the patriarchate.
When Athanasius perceived that he was isolated, and that the causes of the rejection arose from him and those around him, and that the revilings from many were resulting in such a state that they even wished to bring him to judgment, and it was not possible for him to obtain [a favorable outcome], if he wished to retain the dignity (for not even from that point did he find any who would bring peace or indeed pay attention), he began to yield...
albeit reluctantly, from his position. For not a few of those who had recently and but a little while before been deprived of their own property by his ministers—through violent incursions and the appropriation of the fruits of their ecclesiastical offices—were now openly demanding back what had been taken away. Taking matters into their own hands, they returned similar insults, threatening open violence and seizing what they called their own. Some also, in a crowd and by factional pressure, invaded the grain-growing fields from which they had been expelled, meanwhile mocking him, traducing him with jeers, assailing him with curses, and finally, without any fear or respect, devoting the patriarch and his own to the direst imprecations. To such a degree of license had the popular hatred grown, with the patience of most people having been exhausted by long-standing injuries, flaring up into a frenzy of a crowd conspiring in inevitable, cruel violence, with the impunity that necessity required and complete security. D Therefore, Athanasius, sensing that he would shortly be brought before a tribunal (for he was not unaware that the leading men wished for his case to be debated in an ecclesiastical court), hastened to notify the emperor that he requested him to send men to whom he might consign the patriarchal residence, since he was about to depart from it, and who would guarantee his safety from the incursion of the hostile populace on the road along which he was to travel. Meanwhile, he hastily prepared two scrolls: one in which he seemed to abdicate his dignity, and another, contained in the cups, in which he largely commended his past life with boastful language, while partly expressing his anger against his detractors with threats and curses—somewhat more intemperately, indeed, than would befit one who professed to imitate the meekness of Christ. And this document, A which he had hidden in secret at the summit of a certain column—one of those standing in the catechumena of the Great Church, on the left of those entering, beneath the aperture of the dove-cote—he had, like a thief, so that no one might know of his foresight, placed there himself, having set up a ladder, and having enclosed it within two earthen cups placed mouth to mouth; he had secured the documents with his own signature and a leaden bull, and having bored holes and bound them with a cord, so that it might not be plotted against by any of the destroyers while lying far away in that place. The other—the one concerning his resignation—he sent to the emperor, asking that he send as soon as possible those who would make his path secure. He had, word for word, the scroll in the cups as follows:
23. What was written on the potsherds against the one holding the patriarchate.
Two things appeared [that were ostensibly directed] toward the subversion of the Church, having been devised, as it were, for its benefit, [but which were] from the treachery of those who delighted in such things: one, that Veccus should come to a discussion and perhaps be convicted and defeated, which was impossible when the people were in a frenzy and treating the sweet as bitter in their words; the second, when leave was granted to Hyacinthus throughout the entire Roman domain to summon against the Church whomever he found who were not reared by conscience or the laws of God, but were certain vagabond, three-obol charlatans, [men] capable of destroying the Church of Christ,
A and whose insults no one can evade, the Church was again insulted and suffered loss. And what is the loss? That of the monks and nuns and the rest of the Christ-named people—those who, whether by reason or by force, had turned their gaze toward a more honorable life—as a wild storm falling suddenly upon us, the insult directed against us turned them back to their former ways. But this insult and its bane—that not only against our reputation did they turn, holding stones to cast at us and anathematizing us, and whatever else should be said of physical insult—but, alas, against the Object of veneration itself! Therefore, I say: If I am conscious within myself of having fallen into fornication or adultery or effeminacy, and if I have ever thought or think or shall think a thought alien to the Church of Christ my God, may I be anathema from Christ, and may my portion be with the traitor and with those who crucified my Lord. But if, while I am serving and thinking rightly and faithfully, and casting out from my soul that which the Church does not glorify nor has received, tongues—trained to speak evil, whoever and whatever they may be—have not trembled to slander me, I hold them, according to the canon, as separated even from the life-giving Trinity. For that we were put into the Church forced, but not as those who had forced others, in the hope of peace and common benefit, and [the situation] did not progress according to those hopes B to the extent we had managed, thus it is advantageous C that the injurer cannot harm the injured. But the Church has been insulted again and has suffered harm. What then is the harm? That from among the monks and nuns and the rest of the Christian people, many who, partly persuaded by reasons and led by their own choice, and partly through the addition of terror and threats of punishment, had been compelled by a certain force to convert themselves for the better and had looked toward holiness—these, like a wild whirlwind and a dire storm coming upon them, this insult against us cast off their course and turned them back to their former [ways]. Furthermore, the ruin of this injury, which is a cause of grief for us, consisted not in the loss of our fame and reputation, nor in the insult of those who rampaged so licentiously—so much so that they took up stones to throw at us and anathematized us, and accumulated every other sort of tangible insult—but, woe is me! (for this wounds the heart), this tempest redounded to the greatest detriment of religion itself. Wherefore I say: If I am conscious to myself of fornication or adultery or nefarious lust with males, if I have ever thought, or do think, or shall hereafter think anything alien from the sense of the Church of Christ my God, let there be anathema to me from Christ, and my portion be with the traitor and the crucifiers D of my Lord. But if, while I am serving and thinking rightly and faithfully, and rejecting and disapproving from the heart that which the Church does not think and has not received, tongues trained in cursing have not shrunk from slandering me,
as if I were doing something evil or even desiring to commit injustice. But as for the unjust and blasphemous, I act as is proper. However, if we shall be measured by the same measure with which we measure, I commit the discernment of these men to the holy Emperor and the prelates before God, and whether we be judged worthy of acceptance or of censure, we submit, and we expect the command regarding these matters as from God.
Another point: if the work of each person is to be revealed on that day, we speak for the sake of the calumny which the devil has vomited against us. If I am conscious to myself of having fallen into fornication, or adultery, or foreign madness, and if I have ever thought or think a thought alien and discordant from the Church of Christ, my God and Lord, and if I do not hold as the holy disciples and apostles of His have handed down, and the God-bearing Fathers who succeeded them, both individually and synodically; and if I do not condemn with anathema every heterodox thought which the Church of Christ has not received and does not hold, let anathema be to me from Christ, and may my portion be with the traitor and those who crucified my Lord. But if, while I am serving and thinking and embracing and preaching rightly and faithfully, some have slandered me with such calumnies, whoever they may be and whatever they are, let them be considered cast out from the Church of Christ, and my humble self subjects them to an indissoluble bond of excommunication from the life-originating and blessed and holy Trinity, and to the curse of anathema, as well as the one who has been dragged into such things to do injury. A For just as this curse is from God against the unjust and blasphemous, so too may the blessing and protection of God surround those who restrain their tongue and love and speak the truth, both here and in the life to come.
These were the contents of the papers hidden within earthenware vessels and deposited in a hollow cavity. Regarding these matters, that he subjects to anathema even the one who may have been dragged by force into the factions of his adversaries, whoever that person may be, and whether or not his conduct is free from passion, those who live in the Spirit and serve the Lord might know. Nevertheless, having been found later, as will be told shortly, they were sufficient to subject the author to just charges.
He also drafted another letter and sent it to the Emperor, which contained the following word for word: B "After God, and by the words emboldened by your Majesty, which derives its authority from God, I undertook the governance of the Church. And if in administering it anyone should be angry that my governance was not obsequiously adapted to what each person might please, the same God is witness that I could not judge otherwise. Since, however, Christ established you as the overseer of His Church C and of the Empire, to steer toward what is pleasing to Him, I say before my Lord Jesus Christ, even if I am a sinner, I do not know in a practical sense that I have kept back anything contrary to the canons of the priesthood. If, however, some have risen up against me to say things that reach the level of human insult and annoyance, and there are those who believe these things, let them set down for my deposition whatever they wish from these things, and if I am wronged, on that day I shall be justified—
For I consider the resignation to be uncanonical, and this is my own judgment. But since I speak to an emperor who trembles at the judgments of God, if you command, I put aside my own will and entrust to God and to your God-given empire my affairs, so that whatever shall seem pleasing to Him and salutary for my soul, you may deign to contribute, advise, and cooperate, and in this way, there may be granted from God the same benefits to your God-given empire.» But he did not sign this—as might be expected—though he had previously signed the former with his own hand; for it had: «Athanasius, by the mercy of God, Archbishop of Constantinople, New Rome, and Ecumenical Patriarch.» B There was also another thing circulating in a secret letter, which I do not know if it was added later by those devoted to him, to the effect that: «Even if I do or perform anything contrary to this, I hold it invalid and against my own will, even if I should inscribe my resignation itself.» For the time being, having written these things, he put some of them in a secret place, having secured himself in the aforementioned manner, but as for the document sent to the emperor alone, since there was no help or protection from that quarter, as perhaps he had hoped might be received, but rather those who were to go forth in the night along the road to defend him were already being sent, and others who would take over the patriarchate—having perceived from these things that the emperor was persuaded that the deposition of the patriarch would be useful for calming the public disturbance, and since he could do nothing else, he delivered himself up in the dead of the night to those sent to take him away. Having proceeded with them to the seashore near the place called the Eugenios, they all boarded a fishing boat and, sailing into the harbor, the Horn, reached the monastery of Cosmidion. Having spent the night there, Athanasius sent his resignation to the emperor, which read word for word as follows:
24. Written resignation of Patriarch Athanasius.
«Since it was for the sake of the common good that we were raised to the patriarchal throne and for the peaceful state and government of the Christian people, but matters turned out to the contrary, beyond our own expectation and that of those who forced us, to the point that it came about that we were deemed by the people to be unfit and worthy of rejection, inept and frivolous, while we ourselves also feel that we are weak, sinners, insufficient, and not equal to such a ministry, for this reason we resign ourselves along with the priesthood; and if we have omitted anything out of ignorance or acted beyond what is proper, we ask for forgiveness, and may the Lord...»
provide what is beneficial, and may He govern both, and may He see the suitable shepherd, through the intercessions of the Mother of God.” Athanasius, who held the title of Archbishop of Constantinople, New Rome, and Ecumenical Patriarch, had this in his signature. These were the contents of the letters, these were the contents of Athanasius’s resignation, from which one might grasp the lack of consideration in the one who wrote them. And for a while, what did he mean by “I felt thus” and again “I felt better not to, God is witness”? I think even a ship-wrecker could say this, he who willfully and autonomously subjects the ship to danger, as if to say, “It was better that I did not think.” But one might say to him: “But with those with whom you were supposed to take counsel—since you were not appointed to govern alone, but with many—you did not do so.” But for the present, “I was judged,” he says, “unacceptable by the people,” not by the bishops and the monks of the Church. But what valid weight could the rejection of the people and the laity have for the deposition of a patriarch? He continues: “We resign ourselves,” he says, “along with the priesthood.” He does not resign his throne and honor, but the unruly and disobedient people. But does he resign the people together with the priesthood, so that both are resigned equally, or does he resign the people, or reject them, by the power and authority of the episcopal power and status remaining in him, by which method such rejection might prove effective, ratified, and firm? And what does he mean by saying that a suitable shepherd must be chosen after him, unless he is secretly implying that someone is being sought who is prepared to gratify and indulge the people in everything? But these matters were perhaps discussed by me more offhandedly than would have been timely for an historian. One thing, however, of no small importance, someone observing these things might add: that Athanasius completed exactly his four-year tenure in the patriarchate, so that he hit almost the same day for the beginning and the end of his administration of the Church—the sixteenth of October—when also the great logothete, having detected the vanity of the panegyric which he had written based on those very honorific things he had heard about Athanasius, burned his writing, repenting of his credulity, because he was very ashamed to have celebrated there as a miracle that vegetables had been carried by the command of Athanasius from a garden to his house by a “wolf,”, B since he had subsequently learned for certain that that “wolf” was a man so named, not, as he had allowed himself to be persuaded, a beast of noted ferocity accustomed to being designated by that name. C However, the emperor, having received Athanasius’s letter of cession, did not think that one should dwell too curiously on investigating the ambiguity of the captious sentences and words with which it was composed. But here too, he followed his customary uprightness of mind and his moderation and prudence, being averse to needlessly stirring up controversies of the Church that would achieve nothing and would be harmful and present a nuisance; and having persuaded himself and others to refrain from the odious investigation of the deep thoughts of the old man that were somehow hidden under that artifice of words, he counted it as a gain that he [Athanasius] had departed in peace, and he did not think it mattered by what artifice or guile he had studied to accomplish it. For he foresaw that to ventilate that case with greater clamor by permitting the judgment—which was desired by many who were burning with vehement and just hatred against Athanasius—would be a more tumultuous affair than was expedient for the quiet of the Church and the republic, which had already been shaken more than enough from other quarters. Wherefore, he was satisfied to store the patriarch away again D without clamor by a nocturnal escort to his own monastery, where, with many other associates, he would henceforth practice asceticism at his leisure, without anyone interfering, according to his custom.
He committed the inquiry regarding a suitable person to be appointed as head of the Church to the bishops, while he himself remained at Nymphaeon, A wondering and seeking out someone who might preside over the Church.
Concerning the burning of the Great Market of the city.
Two years before this happened, there occurred a fire in the great market of the city. I omit for the moment two other fires that broke out in the transmarine suburb of Galata while Gregory was holding the patriarchate. About the middle of November, at that time of evening when lamps are lit in the first darkness, the evil began within the great city, at the very center of the market, at the gate called the Royal Gate. Seizing everything all around it, the voracious B and irresistible fire consumed that very night those houses—which were packed with all kinds of merchandise—and reduced them completely to ashes, so that the inhabitants fled naked, not only lacking wealth and finery, but even the very garments necessary to cover their bodies. In the morning, nothing remained to be seen but broken shards of tiles and the nails that had held the planks and beams together, which, by the privilege of being iron material, had been preserved from the violence of the flame; the entire previous beauty of that most lovely street was converted into a shapeless heap in a field, a mournful spectacle. When this was announced to the Emperor, who was then staying at Nymphaeon, it caused him no small wonder, C and he was troubled with the concern of searching out the mysterious source of the evil, so that for many days afterward, whenever anyone came from Byzantium, he would anxiously ask how and from what causes such a calamity could have occurred. For the disaster had not arisen from a small beginning and grown gradually, as usually happens, but, as far as could be conjectured, the fire had sprung up with rapid velocity from various parts at once, consuming a great part of the city in a moment and devouring many most ornate buildings and much wealth stored within them. Threatening things no milder to those further away, it did not cease until it fell upon wide-spaced crossways D where the owners had had the foresight to pull down and snatch away the material; once it reached those points, it was unable to leap across and attack the devourable things on the opposite side. For since they had exhausted all the wells round about and did not have enough water against such a violent rush of fire, they used the remaining wells as storehouses; and if they snatched anything from the fire, they would go to meet it, putting the danger of seizing something in second place, and immediately threw it onto those [piles] and covered it up. They themselves, not being able to defend what had once been caught, seized and removed beforehand the things lying further out, and thus, by withdrawing the fuel, they rendered the monster, which would otherwise have raged more uncontrollably from a larger feast, weaker as if chastened by starvation. And so, gradually weakened, they were able—though with difficulty and barely—at last to prevail, nor yet did they succeed without leaving, as other fires before it had done, a funeral pyre that would leave a memory for future time of a great and once-illustrious place, although the masters soon gathered again...
A to those things which concerned them, and with great difficulty, by recognizing only the bare ground from certain faint traces, they rebuilt it more generously while the Emperor was away, so that the disaster stood only in reports, not in visions. For upon the completed buildings, which were more splendid, there stood the sweet fruits of sight, which washed away with gladness the saltness of the report for one who had seen them.
26. Concerning the marriage alliance of the Emperor with the Protovestiarios Muzalon.
B He himself, about to effect a marriage arrangement along with the Protovestiarios and Grand Logothete, so that the Emperor’s own brother Theodore might take in marriage the daughter of Muzalon—since the girl, even though betrothed, had happened to be involved in a case of illegitimacy with one of her kinsmen, leading to a dispute in the inquiry as to whether the marriage arrangement was forbidden—gathered the archpriests and gathered those of the clergy who were present there, as well as the Protovestiarios. For the sickness did not allow him to encamp anywhere far from the palace, but rather he lived nearby in one of the imperial C apartments. There, therefore, the deliberations took place as to whether, with that transgression having occurred, the marriage arrangement could stand. And since it seemed so to some, but not at all to others, the Emperor, wishing to gladden him—that man whom he indeed used as a co-worker and counselor for everything, and who was most practical—let go of the ambiguity; to his brother he joined in marriage the daughter of the Pincernes Libadarios, who was ennobled by the dignity of the grandfather who had been Protovestiarios, and he betrothed the daughter of the Protovestiarios Muzalon to his own son Constantine. D But neither was Constantine yet a Despot by rank—he was merely conspicuous by the fact that he was the son of the Emperor—nor did the Protovestiarios, while living, see the marriages, but he ended his life in hopes and expectations alone. But the matter in the end resulted in Constantine being promoted and also being made Despot, a dignity to which Theodore had not been deemed worthy. For his mother, greatly desiring to see [her son] proclaimed Despot by her brother and the Emperor, and having strongly ...cont... forced the son...
to accept it, did not achieve her ambition—not because the Emperor was disobedient to his mother, but because his piety and fear of God stood in the way; for the Emperor had previously, in such an event (by some unknown occasion), sworn an oath that he would never grant the dignity of Despot to Theodore. Being constant in his oath for fear of perjury, he refused to appoint him Despot. When in lieu of this the dignity of Sebastocrator was offered, Theodore did not accept it, and for that reason he remained without any signal title of principal power, conspicuous only by the nomenclature of being the son and brother of Emperors, and a "Despotys" [i.e., of the Despotes' kin] of the Romans—as if one were to say, born of and related to those ruling over Romania, and imbued by such close bonds with a certain contagion of supreme power.
27. Concerning the Hieromonk and spiritual father of the Emperor, Cosmas.
B Since the Church of God was also in need of one to preside over it, and a man who seemed worthy of the office was being sought, a certain monk named Cosmas was found in the city, tracing his lineage from Sozopolis. He had lived for some years with a wife, but having long since dismissed his spouse, he had chosen the monastic profession, which he undertook together with his brother and son. Having subsequently arrived at the city, he served in the monastery of the Emperor—which is named for the Archstrategos [i.e., the Archangel Michael] of the heavenly host to whom it is dedicated—and besides other services, he also performed the office of ecclesiarch. This old man was of prosperous health and venerable appearance, a man gentle and modest in all things, of a composed mind devoid of arrogance and pride, and presenting a specimen of most mild clemency. At that time, when there was a great disturbance among the Greeks regarding the peace with the Latins, when the Emperor sent certain men to his own monastery, ordered to investigate what the opinion of the monks might be, and announcing to all that only those who submitted their own will to the Emperor’s would be allowed to remain in the place, while those who felt otherwise would be immediately cast out, this Cosmas was among those who refused to obey. Whence, after a long voluntary imprisonment, the hardships of which he bore bravely together with those equally confined, he was freed through the petitions of the Patriarch of Alexandria and withdrew to a solitary cell which he had previously prepared for himself on his own property, on an island in that sea, and lived there.
C The Great Conostaulus Tarchaniota Glabas—whom the Emperor later made Protostrator—frequently frequented those places, for the administration of affairs in those parts had been entrusted to him by the Emperor. Having seen Cosmas there, and being otherwise a lover of monks and of virtue, he admired the man's character, and as if bound to him by a certain disposition, he bestowed many things upon him and cared for him with ways of compassion and grace. Then, reporting much to the Emperor regarding this man, he sowed a favor for him and a desire to see him. Wherefore, having brought him back with him from the island to the city, the Great Conostaulus presented him to the Emperor and recommended him pressingly. D And soon he [the Emperor] placed into his own hands the monastery of the most blessed Theotokos. The Emperor, moreover, much delighted by Cosmas’s humanity and upright morals, added him to his spiritual fathers, and showed him honor and reverence suitable to that dignity. Let this be an indication of it: when the clergy who, for the reasons mentioned before, were at odds with the Patriarch, approached the Emperor—who had recently returned to Constantinople—on a certain Sunday at the time of the liturgy in the temple, and stood venerating him, the Emperor, showing himself openly hostile to them, sent a message to the author of this history, questioning him about them...
A wondering what had befallen them that they should approach so boldly, not understanding at all that they stood under his displeasure, having departed from the patriarch. When the latter apologized on their behalf: “They did not come of their own accord, my lord, but having approached your father, Lord Cosmas, they received from him the assurance that they are forgiven by your Majesty,” the Emperor again sent back the same B mystic, and testified many other good things to the man, and that if he should die immediately, and the Church were willing to honor him as a saint, he himself would be the first to approve the Church’s judgment and would testify his own devotion to him with the appropriate religious offices; but if the Church did not approve of this, he himself would remain of the same mind, to magnify the departed and honor him as a saint. So fully convinced, as it seemed, was the Emperor regarding him. When, therefore, the arch-hierarchs came together to C search out a patriarch, they did not deem it proper to press Gennadius again to accept the patriarchate, since he had once refused it, even though they saw him as a man fit for this office and recognized as useful for it, for they did not think it seemly to search for a man, once he had altogether refused the high priesthood, but rather to search for a man of whom the Emperor was fully assured, and whom they deemed most necessary. And thus, they found no one more worthy than Cosmas and otherwise suited for the time; for just as spring is pleasant after winter, and calm D after a storm is desirable to those who sail, so after the tempest and the surge of affairs and the harsh irregularity of characters and the afflictions of softness, a gentle character is immediately acceptable. Therefore, having come to a single mind, they elect him. For the man was, in truth, except for one thing—a certain simplicity and naivety regarding profit—and not from a passion rooted in his soul, otherwise appropriate for the vote; for the compassion, which they say is peculiar to God toward men, abounded in his soul with sufficient simplicity.
28. Election of the Hieromonk Cosmas to the patriarchate; and concerning the monk Gregory.
When the Emperor learned this, he accepted the election as was fitting, and summoned him with messages, and he immediately consented, and he was on the verge of being presented, and the Empress was present, and everything was made ready. Now there was a certain monk, Gregory, in the monastery of the Pantepoptes, who, hearing these things from his own abbot, Luke, would not accept the report; for he maintained that not Cosmas, but John, was to be C promoted from that place, whatever might come to pass, and that the plan was impossible. He said this, I believe, based on books, but not from any more divine revelation. When, therefore, everything was made ready and the Empress
A had arrived, and the person to be promoted was being led forward, while the transition occurred—unexpectedly, as they say—he was renamed John that very day; this was not known to some before the proclamation of the one put forward. Then Lucas, who was present and heard this, was immediately struck with amazement, and went away to report the dramatic event to Gregory. At that point, Gregory, trusting more in the writings than in his efforts to persuade others, added what remained, namely, for how many years he would serve as patriarch and that he would not die in that office. And these things he predicted, being an old man and near to death. But that man, having taken [P. 124] the pastoral staff from the Emperor, as was the custom, was honored also with the di- B bullion. And on the first of the month of Hecatombaion he received his ordination. Thenceforth, he displayed such gentleness in affairs that the members and parts of the Church, which only yesterday and the day before had been divided and stood apart, surging from the clash of contrary winds, were being knit together and settled.
Not, however, so as to lead the members of the Church into perfect peace; for some were still held back by the instability of the previous day, while others, even if they had these men in the order of the platform and as concelebrants, were neglected for higher advancement, while monks were preferred in the elections to the episcopacy. Yet nevertheless (for the common bane, even if it is considered among the painful things and unbearable), they endured the pain moderately, and in their own way remaining at peace and being serene, they entrusted their affairs to God. For this Cosmas, or John, even while he was still outside of affairs and a private citizen regarding everything, judged the injustice taking place in the Church’s affairs as entirely uncanonical. And it was clear, as it seemed, that if he himself were to take charge of affairs, he would dissolve the condemnation as one resisting the holy canons and one that had arisen from temporary irregularities, which are indeed wont to disturb the established order, it being the nature of evil not only to remain evil in itself, but also to sprout up in many others.
C ...those of the presbyterate only, to be advanced to the rank of their own order, and to have the highest honor they could hope for defined by a gathering with the prelates within the chancel, and by sharing with them in the holy ministry of the altar; and that on occasions of further promotions, the clergy were despised, and only the monastics were considered, and that the votes for the bishoprics ran to them alone. The individuals, however, bore the common vexation of all more moderately; for to whom an evil generally spread among many is considered tolerable, and however bitter it may be thought in itself—a pain not to be borne—by the company of associates and the parity of condition pressing upon all equally, the sharpness is believed to be lost to the general feeling, and it is lessened by some consolation. By this they used and kept themselves in peace, and they aided the public tranquility for their part by abstaining from disturbing others, leaving the care of their own accounts and rights to God, and also by a certain hope, especially at the beginning, of a change for the better, which had arisen thence: because this Cosmas, now John, before he was moved to affairs and while he led a private life in all things, used to judge this custom accepted in the Church—of promoting D monastics to bishoprics while excluding the clergy—as unjust and clearly contrary to the canons. And he would declare that if he were ever placed in charge of the administration of affairs, he would abolish this prejudice as being opposed to the sacred rules and born of the iniquity of turbulent times, through which those things that are even solidly established are wont to be shaken, and with legitimate customs weakened, abuses are gradually introduced; for it is the nature of evil not to contain itself within, but to break out and propagate its own taint into the depravity of the rulers themselves, to whatever extent it may be able to creep. Although this trust indeed fell into ruin for them. For when Cosmas began to administer ecclesiastical affairs, as if led by the stars and by a fatal necessity, he retained the custom that he had disapproved of while a private person, and, as if carried by a torrent of example,
or rather by his own inclination, he followed in the footsteps of his predecessors. And so, often when many were lamenting in the synod and complaining about that silent reprobation of the clergy and about such an injurious neglect of the order, those who were in charge, having nowhere to stand, because the canons and the decrees of the Fathers closed every door of excuse to them—since those things were openly opposed to their recent and present acts and decrees for which there was no equal response—they cast the blame upon the Emperor, while they themselves, under that pretext, safely fell asleep while the canons, which lay idle in the ancient records, were manifestly neglected; indeed these men evaded all such challenges and incursions, as much as they could, by setting up the name of the Emperor as a kind of wall and rampart. B
29. A public gathering held by the Emperor regarding the condemned.
Then, at the beginning of the month of March, the Emperor, whether urged by the complaints of the mother of the Empress, who was arguing that he had acted unjustly toward his brother, or perhaps thinking it in his own interest that what Constantine the Despot, his own brother, and Strategopoulos, who had conspired with him, had fraudulently and ungratefully plotted against him, should be clearly known to the Romans, he summoned everyone to a general assembly. And in the Alexiac triclinium, he himself presided, and those who held the primary ecclesiastical offices sat with him, both bishops and clergy. The most choice and illustrious of the citizens stood by. There, the things that the Despot and Strategopoulos were caught plotting in secret were read out. And while it did not seem appropriate to bring the former forward, once Strategopoulos alone was brought into the midst, the entire conviction of both parties was completed. For, once irrefutable arguments and testimonies were placed C before him, he was compelled to acknowledge what new things he had intended to stir up, by what indications the conspiracy had been detected, what words of both had been intercepted by the informers, and what secret plans had certainly been discovered. By demonstrating these things, the Emperor apparently achieved this: that the condemnation and punishment of both, which had previously seemed to some to be harsh, might now be judged mild and moderate in proportion to the gravity of their crimes.
30. Concerning the one who usurped the name of Lachanas.
At that time, a certain Bulgarian appeared unexpectedly from somewhere, boasting that he was that Lachanas who had long been famous there, showing himself also to the Emperor and offering himself as ready to undertake great things against the enemies, if he would permit it. Hearing this, the Emperor was at first troubled by the astonishment of this unexpected novelty, not grasping by what chance he who was sufficiently known to have been killed long ago by Nogai, the prince of the Tocharians, could not only be seen alive, but even dare to promise and consider great things for himself. Therefore, having first taken care that Maria, his cousin, who had formerly lived with Lachanas and had even borne a female child by him, should inspect this man cautiously, without being observed herself, he then inquired of her whether this was truly Lachanas; in which matter such a woman could certainly not be mistaken, as she was the wife of the true Lachanas long ago, from whom she had conceived and borne a daughter. And she, when she not only denied that this man was Lachanas, but even affirmed that she had observed absolutely nothing in him similar to Lachanas, rendered this Barbarian not a little suspicious to the Emperor and to those who managed affairs under him. And when they observed him D striving for a sudden and vehement affectation of anger—which was one of the traits of Lachanas’s character—though he did not quite express it as anyone might attempt to do, he added to it a pretense
of fanatical piety, in which he had excelled from the beginning. With no less success, he diverted the expectation and fervor of many a fickle person, who allowed themselves to be puffed up by empty hopes, toward this particular enticement. Not without reason, fearing and anticipating some movement on the part of the insane multitude, who were prepared to follow this leader wherever he might lead, A they apprehended the barbarian impostor and handed him over to custody; he was sufficiently guilty and worthy of punishment on this account alone, since it was manifestly discovered that he was simulating a borrowed persona, and that this fraud served no purpose other than one detrimental and dangerous to the public peace.
That such a decision and precaution seemed necessary at the time was brought about by the condition of those times and the wretched state of the regions of the Eastern frontier, which were accustomed to being afflicted and ravaged by the incursions of the Persians. For those unhappy people, having sought in vain for other protection from anywhere else, had most eagerly raised their spirits at the report of this man, as if he were a new leader sent from heaven—using the customary method of human weakness, which, when struggling against extreme dangers, if it cannot obtain true help, eagerly snatches at a false and harmful one, and especially if anything should appear under some pretense of superstition or novelty sent from heaven, it welcomes it like a god from a machine. Thus, in that groaning and consternation over the daily incursions of the Persians, hearing that there existed someone who claimed to be sent by God to destroy the enemies of the Empire, and adding to this the prophecies circulating among them, which promised something similar, they greatly desired that this Lachanas, such as he was, be given to them as a leader. When they heard that he was being held in prison, B they tired the Emperor with many solicitous prayers, begging him not to withhold from them this divinely appointed remedy for their extreme evils, nor to allow them, most miserable as they were, to be plundered and spoiled with impunity.
The Emperor, hearing these things and contemplating his own labors, came to a certain thought: that often even a doctor allows a remedy to a patient in [a state of] despair, which the sick person, by his own appetite—perhaps insanely—hopes will be beneficial to him, but the art itself is not yet proven to be worthless; rather, the success, coming from some chance inclination, has been beneficial, as the nature of the body, having been strengthened by the intensity of the appetite, has risen against the disease. “What then,” he says, “if I release this barbarian, even if he is not such a person [as they think], and even if he himself gives no opinion about himself, C if he nevertheless appears terrible to the enemies and useful to the oppressed, and I permit him to lead the army, all the more so since he has experience at close range in the land of the Alizones near the Sangarius?” Reflecting on this and having consulted with those around him, he released him, having first prepared for him what was necessary.
As soon as he went out, just as he was, and had merely set foot upon the road, everyone—those far away and those near—was stirred to movement, and there was nothing to conjecture except the movement of the very world and the earth itself. For those who were busy with agricultural labors and the mattock, knowing nothing more than how to goad an ox, and those shepherds of flocks, and those rustics, leaving their own lands and the tillage itself, appeared of their own accord [in the ranks], armed only with rods and shepherd’s crooks, as soldiers and unarmed men-at-arms D sent by heaven to defend those who were being treated unjustly, and to block those for whom no other escape from extreme slaughters and calamities appeared anywhere.
Such entreaties, urged upon the Emperor by those peoples of those tracts through many whom they sent in succession, and so often rejected by that decision of his which I mentioned, to which he clung teeth-and-nail, were repeated in an increasingly invidious manner without end. As the murmur now began to grow, and that plebs began to grumble not only that they were not protected by those by whom it was fitting, but also that when they were ready to obtain arms for themselves to wage war and repel the enemies, they were being denied the leader and the opportunity and the easy favor of being allowed to defend themselves and their own possessions at their own risk and labor—moved by these things, the Emperor began to reflect with himself and to propose to his counselors: “Doctors even allow the use of a remedy to patients in despair, which they hope for themselves will be beneficial, however insanely. What great harm would there be, therefore, if these people who are demanding it are indulged in what they desperately desire? Indeed, because miraculous things sometimes happen, and because matters sometimes turn out better by chance than by planning, perhaps something not unsuccessful will come of it. But if this recklessness is successful beyond hope, we will count the slaughter of the enemies as a gain; but if, which is more probable, he is defeated, he himself [will be convicted] of imposture, and those who rashly invited him [will be convicted] of inconsiderate desire—"
A thus, the arrangements that had been set in order under Lachanas were quickly dissolved, and those who had remained at home gained great confidence that they would be victorious wherever they might appear with him. Indeed, within a few days, an infinite multitude of mixed peoples had gathered around him, men who knew nothing of wars or of battle order, truly fulfilling the proverb that war is sweet to the inexperienced. For they did not march forth as if they were going to fight, nor as if they were launching an attack against enemies, but rather like men rushing to plunder, and sporting rather than taking things seriously. Now, the rush of those people toward the young commander was such that, as they surged, they could not even stand still. They did not gather little by little, but in the manner of fire, and in a magnitude many times greater, so that it seemed that a flood was pouring forth at once, consisting of those rustic folk, the Boukaioi, and the Bōōtai.
Learning of this, the emperor feared for the common good, lest some disaster occur if they were to attack in a disorderly and ignorant manner—or, even if they should happen to succeed, that some revolutionary movement might be incited. He sent for the barbarian, summoned him, and as soon as he arrived, he stripped the general of his command and ordered that he be kept in proper custody. That ignorant and senseless multitude B
31. Death of the Protovestiarios.
Meanwhile, the protovestiarios, consumed by a long-standing disease of the kidneys—for nothing that his physicians could devise for his treatment proved sufficient to struggle against the illness; rather, it only caused the sufferer further damage—renounced everything, even his worldly pride and his tent, and assumed the monastic habit. The things he had conspired to do and had advised against the wretched clergy, allegedly out of zeal, he confessed in their very presence, repenting and seeking their forgiveness. The pain, however, racked and crushed him to such an extent that it made even living unendurable to him. If any of the sons of Asclepius [physicians], by observing his pulse, predicted his end to be near, he would accept this news with a smiling countenance and would consider that person a benefactor for the favor, as if he were foretelling and preparing the way for his release—though he was not actually accomplishing or bringing about his departure. So great was the pain and the agony of his kidneys to the sufferer, that he passed away before long. And the corpse of the protovestiarios, having been worn out and rendered lifeless by these most atrocious torments of the kidneys, was [devoured]...
A taken to Nicaea, to be buried in the monastery of Tornikios there, which he held by some right of foundation [originating] from his wife.
32. Regarding the appointment of the Keeper of the Inkstand to the central administration, and the Emperor’s utter endurance.
He having thus departed, the Emperor placed the entire mediation of public affairs upon the Mystikos alone, whom he soon after also appointed as Keeper of the Inkstand, using him—along with a few others—as a counselor and assistant for most matters. He did not, however, bring him or the others close to himself with the intention of having vicars in whom he might place trust for the principal cares, so that he himself might be free of labor and surrender to relaxation, but rather he [himself] labored alongside them with his own might, with the authority of a ruler, and with a tolerance and severity not merely of a private citizen, but—I would almost say—of a commoner. Indeed, he had cast off all the softness and indulgences of the nobility. For his royal table, at which he would honor some of the primary senators daily by seating them, was certainly no more sumptuous than that Homeric one with which ancient Agamemnon honored the one who excelled, for he regaled his friends with the back of a bull, and he so despised the luxury of his own kind that he would not even willingly endure a civil, or rather, such as even the poor among the common people might manage, to have his own meals served with elegant care. He renounced moderation in this, and [the notion of] keeping away from profusion, while in the meantime, passing whole days fasting and standing on his feet applied to work, manifesting the indefatigable strength of a resolute purpose, being in truth, as the saying goes, harder than adamant in joining days to nights, [maintaining] a continuous station, unremitting intensity, without any relaxation for bathing or food; B truly he followed the proverb, to abstain and to fast and to persevere, standing for nights and days, and sometimes having spent the whole day in public concerns and professional duties, once night arrived, he made the hymnody to God—which he was accustomed to perform with priests—a matter of priority, valuing it above all relief. And late in the night, he placed in a balance whether or not to be nourished then, but rather [postponed] until the following day, and again to dine at night, whatever might happen. For the fitness of his body, being locked in harmony with his will, neither gave the voluntary austerity space to harm him who was enduring, nor did it offer the involuntary necessity [of hunger] any cause to grieve him who desired to persevere; each side strengthened the other toward the completion of a single virtue, so that neither should the lack of food cause grief due to physical fitness, nor should that which was being sought appear unpleasant due to his intent. In this way, then, the Emperor, having started from that point, lived his life with endurance, renouncing all luxury and indolence, even if it happened that royal and ancient customs were being cast aside. C And so he proceeded from the early dawn, occupied and clearly devoid of food, and when the appointed hour arrived, he would have the nightly hymnody before his supper. For he was accustomed to celebrate this together with the domestic priests, with such constancy that he always preferred it to the care of the body, however ready and necessary that might be. And it rarely happened that after he had spent the day in fasting and continuous labor, with the hymnody taking the place of a meal, he would go to bed without having eaten; rather, on the next day, he would lead the day with equal intensity, delaying the belly, which had now been empty for two days, until deep into the evening, and even then tasting nothing but ordinary and common fare, and that without any great sense of appetite, so that whether he ate or did not eat, [it was as if] it were some arbitrary thing of no great importance or moment, which, indeed, he would show was what he considered [the matter to be] at that time. Decidedly, the excellence of most laborious frugality conspired D to establish this for him, when the iron condition of his body and the adamantine virtue of his soul—as both were engaged with one another in a kind of rivalry, each struggling to overcome the other with indomitable toughness—it came about that neither was his health harmed by any injury of hunger or vigilance, nor was his most steadfast and firmly grounded imperturbable constancy of mind shaken by any distress from the encounter of unpleasant vicissitudes or importunities. From this time in particular, he persevered with the utmost persistence until a ripe old age in this wondrous austerity of life, which he had either begun then or established by more frequent practice, having utterly cast off every pleasure and softness, however much it might happen that what was once accepted as the law and custom of the imperial service in the care of the Augusti was being abrogated thereby.
Book Three
A 1. Coronation of the son of Emperor Michael. Since his son Michael was already beyond the age of puberty, and was beyond the stage of a mere youth, Emperor Andronikos did not consider it inappropriate or indecorous to crown him with the imperial diadem, especially as he considered this honor fitting for one who had given him full assurance of his excellent character through constant proofs of great piety and honest habits. He therefore prepared with great magnificence everything suitable for such an occasion, and having judged the day of the memory of the first among Christian emperors, Constantine—or rather, the one who initiated their very liberty—to be appropriate, he fulfilled the rites of the coronation for his son on that day. On the twenty-first of the month of May, all gathered at the Church of the Holy Wisdom, as many as held office and were in service to the palace, as well as the administrative and military forces, and even the Italians residing in the city were not absent, nor were those who were staying in Constantinople for the purpose of an embassy, including those who were acting as intermediaries for the match of Catherine, the granddaughter of King Charles, with the same Michael, the firstborn of the Emperor Andronikos, whose leader of the embassy was the man named Syrperus (Ser Pietro). The priestly and monastic order performed the all-night hymnody from the previous evening by the light of abundant lamps, while the Emperor stood above and listened to the hymns. B At dawn, when the crowd had gathered—filling the Augusteon to such an extent that, drawn together into a single connection and continuity, they appeared as one living being, spreading out in breadth, a thing strange and bizarre for it seemed to be a miraculous animal composed of myriad tongues all at once—and after all these had assembled, and the barriers of the Makron Triclinion had been entirely removed so that the one being acclaimed might be clearly visible to all, those in authority placed the youth upon a shield and raised him on high, acclaiming him more clearly. Then, while the holy liturgy was being celebrated by the Patriarch himself, together with the bishops and all who were within the chancel, at each of the performed rites, they joined in with the appropriate prayers for the son as was customary for the father and emperor. And indeed, when those rites were completed, the ruler ascended the ambo, the Patriarch ascended, and with them also ascended the one who was to be anointed Augustus with his father. C After the brilliant and illustrious ceremonies, the Emperor crowned his son, with the hierarch assisting in taking hold of the crown, and the hierarch anointed with holy oil the one who now shared in the imperial power; and from that point, there were hymns, acclamations, and every kind of thanksgiving. While the emperors were moving about, the customary scattering of coins took place. And then, the great
palace, with the splendid retinue leading the way and surrounding them, received them.
2. Promotion of the son John to the dignity of Despot by the Emperors.
The day after this, the senior Emperor summoned the patriarch, as well as the bishops, the clergy, the monks, and as many of the clean and select members of the state as possible, and resolved to hold a public assembly in the imperial triclinium called Manuelitēs. He brought in his son John, whom he had had by Irene while he was still young, and promoted him to Despot, with the newly crowned Emperor B and autocrat himself participating in the bestowal of the despotic crown. And so, as the Emperors proceeded from there to the Blachernai, purses were again thrown to the people; and from all there arose a great clamor and mixed acclamations, as they magnified the emperors.
3. How a new imperial law concerning ordinations was issued.
From then on, the Emperor sought to have the Church grant the newly crowned one the same [support] as had been granted to him when he requested it from his father. For he wanted a decree to be issued by the Church and secured by the customary signatures, confirming the empire [to his son], and [providing] that if anyone should ever rise up in rebellion... C if it were to occur, that [the perpetrator] would be subject to indissoluble excommunications and curses. He knew accurately and was showing that it had been done for him by the men of that time, and he asked that these things be done by them for his son as well, claiming that the request was neither new nor strange. The Emperor insistently requested these things, but he did not persuade the patriarch or the bishops. They were ready to act to ensure that the decree should be issued and the empire secured for the newly crowned one, but to wrap [anyone who] D should ever rebel against the Emperor in curses and excommunications that cut them off from the portion of Christ, they did not at all think just. For they claimed that the penalties from the laws were sufficient, if one were caught, such that one would no longer find life liveable, being subjected to the punishments according to the laws. Nor did they think it right, in addition to these, for men [who were] known to be friends of compassion, to cut that person off from the portion of Christ. For indeed, it was a good thing for an emperor to have compassion as an advantage; for it had been prescribed for him, clearly, not to treat with intentional malice one caught in the ultimate [crimes], but rather to judge and punish him in another way, with prisons and the hardships resulting from them, and with confiscations of property, according to the manner of the offense. It was therefore good and commendable what had been ordered for the Emperor, but it was not good or seemly for him to force the Church, which was compassionately disposed toward those who stumble, to become uncompassionate, and especially for her—to [the extent that...]
she herself should not only be forced to act rashly, but also to incur greater blame. Some, therefore, who seemed to be men of great caution—and these were themselves archbishops, who appeared to set the gain of safety in the second place—agreed with the Emperor's opinion and acted in common with him. But the majority, and indeed all the rest, opposed them, putting forward the ancient custom and the laws concerning these matters, as well as the jurisdictions of offices dating from long ago; they would not yield. If they did yield, they maintained—as was reasonable—that this would amount to a transgression against the established order, and that a slip would follow from it, and that inevitably a means of necessary livelihood would be closed off to the clergy. And saying many such things, they seemed to reach an impasse with him. Yet they achieved nothing. B Therefore, a *Novella*—a new legislation—was put forward, which even required the precise counting of the candles, as to how many and of what kind they should be, with which the clergy who were present should light their lamps during the rite of ordination. The patriarch signifies this *novella*, and the hierarchs signify it—
Regarding the Simoniacal Corruption and the Imperial Novella
As the Emperor was failing to achieve his end—for every argument advanced to justify his position was defeated by the stubborn resistance of the patriarch and the archbishops—he initially deferred the matter, even against his will. A He wished to avoid the appearance of arrogance, and did not want it to seem as though he were accepting, as a matter of necessity, that regulation which they were readily prepared to offer, for he expected that the oath of allegiance and the security under God and His laws would be offered to his son and successor as well. But he himself, feeling provoked by the failure of his claims, decided to contend in a different way against those who disobeyed him, deeming it inappropriate and contrary to established custom. That in question was the practice where he who was being ordained to the priesthood would offer gifts to those ordaining him, as well as to each of the clerical staff, by reason of the jurisdiction of the offices held by them, as was customary. For he termed this practice a "Simoniacal" passion, and claimed that, as a result, ordination was being rendered a marketable commodity for money. By putting this to the fore, he was long in B disparaging it and saying that it was becoming a greater offense. Some, therefore—those who indeed wished to appear cautious, though they were archbishops themselves and appeared to relegate the gain of security to second place—concurred with the Emperor's opinion and acted together with him. But most of them, and indeed all the rest, would not yield, putting forward the ancient custom, the laws concerning these matters, and the jurisdictions of offices from long ago. They reasoned—as was fitting—that a transgression against the established order was lurking there and that a slip would inevitably result, and that a means of necessary livelihood for the clergy would be blocked. And by saying many such things, they seemed to be at an impasse with those who refused. Yet they did not succeed. Therefore, a *novella* legislation proceeded, and regarding these matters, they did not stop at being meticulous, even about the candles, as to how many and of what kind they should be, which the officiating clergy present at the rite of ordination should use. The patriarch signifies this *novella*, and the hierarchs signify—
A all, except for two, the Bishop of Smyrna and the Bishop of Pergamon, who become agreeable. Yet, the whole of this loss does not fall upon those who signed, but upon the clergy, so that some were bound by their promises, while others were forced to fulfill their promises against their will.
4. Concerning the death of the despot Nicephorus; and how an appeal was made to the emperor that his son, the young Augustus, should take the daughter of the deceased despot as his wife.
But then the despot of the West, the one from the Angelos family, Nicephorus, also happened to depart from this life, leaving behind two children still under authority: an immature male child, Thomas, and a daughter, Ithamar, who was older by age than the male. And their mother, Anna, daughter of Eulogia, now that the sebastocrator John had also been removed from the scene, held the guardianship B of both the children and the territory. She held the two children of John, Ducas and Angelos (for she had previously outwitted the Comnenian Michael, having captured him and handed him over to the emperor), being a woman unwarlike by nature, but who took pains in matters of men and war; she greatly feared the transition of power, for their father, John, while Nicephorus was alive—the base-born against the legitimate—had plundered and harmed most of his possessions. For such reasons, she was devising a plan that was not entirely feasible; for she knew to send to the emperor and to plead with him—and to plead with the patriarch and the Church to overlook the established laws—and to yield to a necessity which had great usefulness, so that the new emperor might become a son-in-law to her C and she might gladly hand over the entire country, both herself and her child, as ancient remnants of the Roman state, as if she were also going to receive so much from those things. Now, she wanted to establish the union, but it was in the sixth degree and within the bounds of blood, and was prohibited more than anything else. Whence, having sought and received the despotic dignity for Thomas, yet despairing of the safety that would come from that, she looks toward the Italians, and betroths her daughter to Philip, the descendant of Charles, giving D not a few of the country’s lands and cities as a dowry to her daughter.
Before this time, it had happened in the western regions that the despot Nicephorus, of the family named after the Angeli, who had long dominated there, had died. He left behind two children not yet of age, a male still a child, Thomas, and a girl slightly older than him, called Ithamar. The base-born brother of Nicephorus, the sebastocrator John, had also been taken from the midst; Anna, the widow of Nicephorus and daughter of Andronicus Augustus’s aunt, Eulogia, acted as guardian of his two wards, Ducas and Angelos, and by that right held both them and their lordship under her power. For she had already previously outwitted and captured through guile the greater of those brothers, the Comnenian Michael, and had handed him over to the emperor. Furthermore, according to the timid nature of women, fearful of tumults, when she recalled how many and how great were the damages the sebastocrator John had inflicted on her husband Nicephorus (for as long as he lived—brother against brother, the base-born against the legitimate—he had harassed him with hostile incursions from the neighborhood, had carried off many spoils from him, and had even annexed some parts of his domain), she feared that the fortune and the spirit of this warlike family might one day be dangerous and ruinous to herself and her children. Therefore, she now sought to fortify her own house against such danger with the powerful protection of an imperial alliance, and moreover pushed for it with such persuasive charm that it was as if she were not offering it to others, but asking it for herself, and hoping from that marriage for such extensive and rich provinces. Yet this whole effort of hers was in vain, as the emperor and the Fathers of the Church persevered in a constant aversion to such an illicit alliance. Wherefore, Anna, cast down from this, having sought and obtained the title of despot for her son Thomas, turned her hopes elsewhere, looking toward the power of the neighboring Italians. Namely, she gave her daughter as a wife to Philip, nephew of Charles, with a not insignificant part of the lands and cities of the paternal principality attributed to him by name as a dowry.
5. Concerning the affinity for the son of Emperor Michael, and the others sent to treat of this kinship, and concerning those sent for this purpose.
A The Emperor was preparing a suitable marriage for his son. He sent the hieromonk Sophonias, a wise and prudent man, to Apulia to act as legate for the proposed kinship. However, as he was going, he delayed in the meantime—for it was necessary for him to reach the Pope, although he had not been furnished with imperial letters of the kind that would have been required to address the Pope as "most holy" and to acknowledge the greatest judgment, as the ones who are secure in the faith believed—and since there were many offering themselves from other places, on the one hand from the king in Cyprus, and on the other from the Armenians, who valued the matters at hand for those who were expected as being of greater importance, and otherwise, since he was leery of the haughtiness of the Pope of Rome, having become freed from that care, he decided to turn to another of those soliciting the establishment of the kinship.
And indeed, first he turned to Athanasius of Alexandria, who had returned to Constantinople from Rhodes after the ejection of the other Athanasius—for the dire events there were touching him, too; and the cause was the monastery of the Archistrategos, the Laura, and the other monastery called the Great Agros, both of which had been assigned by Emperor Michael to the Church of Alexandria for the sake of its prelate, Athanasius, secured by reliable gold-sealed chrysobulls. B This later caused the officiating patriarch Athanasius much distress, and he was being deprived of the Great Agros. Seeking his own commemoration at the Laura, since the names were identical and Athanasius was being commemorated, he compelled the monks to provide security so that, whenever the name was spoken and heard, they would bring himself to mind—and not the Alexandrian—wishing to narrow the expanse of an uncontrollable mind in accordance with his own appetite. And because of these things, having departed for Rhodes, he was leading his life in peace.
Therefore, recognizing the man to be worthy of respect for whatever he might undertake, the Emperor—having judged as such this man who had then returned and spent some time in the monastery of the Evergetes—sent an embassy through him to the kings, and more especially to the Armenian, so that he might bring back a bride for the Emperor from there. Since the one sent consented and all things were magnificently prepared, the patriarch set sail at first with a favorable wind upon a safe trireme,
A carrying along with him the monk and eunuch Neophytus and his baggage. But as they were near Phocaea, they fell in with pirates, who surrounded them and began to plunder that cargo, wanting to detain them as well so that they might be ransomed. But suddenly a merchant ship full of supplies appeared upon the sea; and when it was seen from afar, the pirates, greedy for the profit to be had from it, abandoned the patriarch and his company at the harbor along with the trireme, and abandoned that baggage as well. Expecting them to wait—for the stature of the patriarch persuaded them not to consider any ignoble flight—they sailed with winged speed and eagerness toward the one that had appeared. When they were out of sight, the patriarch and his company, immediately fearing for themselves if those men should return and change their minds, considered fleeing. And so, disembarking from the ship just as they were, in nothing but their robes and the slippers they had on their feet, they fled at full speed, avoiding human paths and taking to trackless, difficult terrain—some by design, and some because they were entirely ignorant of the places. Scarcely, after much stumbling of their feet against shrubs and rocks, did they reach a certain fortress in safety. When the pirates returned later, they realized they had been completely outwitted by them, or rather by Divine Providence, as one might conjecture. B Having meanwhile taken both the ship and the cargo, the pirates sailed away.
The Emperor, having learned of these matters and being naturally grieved, prepared and sent out other envoys: John Glykys, the master of petitions, and Theodore Metochites, the logothete of the herds. They first reached Cyprus and, approaching the king, found him immediately willing to grant their requests; in one thing only did the King of Cyprus show himself adamant—in that which was less agreeable to the envoys—whereby, by managing it, he promised to ensure that it would succeed with the least possible offense to the Greeks. This was to carry out this marriage with the approval and consent of the Roman Church. But these things required time and delay. Meanwhile, the envoys, as they had in their instructions, went on to the princes of Armenia. They offered not one, but two sisters born of the king, and even insisted on their taking both, so that none would be burdened, and so that the Emperor might choose whichever pleased him more: for it was not for their own judgment to prefer one over the other, as they held them in equal dignity and merit. The envoys consulted among themselves and the condition seemed not to be rejected. Wishing to take both sisters, therefore, they carried them off, so that one might marry the younger Augustus, while for the other a worthy spouse—who would not be lacking there—might be sought. However, as danger beset the first of them during the voyage when a severe illness struck, they happened to disembark at the island of Rhodes to care for her more conveniently. There, besides refreshing her with opportune remedies, they initiated her into the elements of religion and the sacred mysteries according to the custom of the Orthodox faith, and having abjured her ancestral rite, they anointed her with chrism and sanctified her. Then, freed from the illness and restored to her former vigor, they departed Rhodes and brought her to Constantinople. Where, having sailed past the shore which they commonly call the Ceras, or Horn, and having arrived at Cosmidium
A, the emperor omitted no mark of honor in the reception he prepared for the lady. And finally, she having been brought in with a brilliant and costly procession, he prepared for the nuptials with as much splendor and visibility as had been done for the former Maria.
6. Marriage of the Emperor Michael.
And he saw that brilliant and royal celebration on the sixteenth day of the month of Hecatombaion. As for the younger sister, Theophano, she too was anointed with divine myrrh and honored with the name of the new emperor’s grandmother—for Theodora was the name she was called by after Theophano—and after some time, they prepared to send her as a bride to the son of the Western Sebastokrator, John [P 141]. For he was also a sebastokrator (and indeed the brother was celebrated by such a title, since Michael was imprisoned in the city), and they intended to send her under firm agreements and with a dowry of many talents from his own treasury; however, she died in the interval, and Thessalonica received her.
From there, the emperor again attempted to deal with the Arseniates, hoping to bring even them to peace through the patriarch’s universal desire for peace, in which he excelled in moral conduct all fighting and factionalism. Hence, gathering them together, he spoke with them and begged them to make peace. For he already had his own uncle, Raoul, and the blind Isaac, along with the sister of the protostrator, whom he had drawn away from their gang into universal peace; he cherished them with all manner of care, so much so that he would even honor with annual memorial rites, in a manner befitting the past scandals of the Church, the protostrator Andronicus Palaiologus, who had long ago died in prison. He begged them to be at peace, respecting both their sufferings and his own long-standing hardship; for there was no longer any sufficient cause for such and so great a scandal of men. But since, for all his speaking B, it was as if he were singing to the deaf or gesturing to the blind, and they were putting forward the same things they had put forward before (having again, out of some pusillanimity C, D and other [arguments] of a similar kind, Andronicus poured out a speech before the Arseniates to the end of persuading them to cease their disturbances, yet he profited no more than if he were singing a melody to the deaf or gesturing to the blind. These men were, of course, once again putting forward those old, oft-repeated arguments of theirs regarding the law and the foundations of their cause. In this, their stubbornness was once again reinforced by Hyacinthus, who from I know not what source had found a remission of enmity, and was reconciled and mingled with them. Upon learning this, the emperor, realizing that he was contending in vain, dismissed the rest of the Arseniates, though he ordered them again and again to keep the peace. He commanded that Hyacinthus be returned to custody and kept locked up there. But Tarchaniota, having been led out of prison, was utilized in a peaceful manner in other matters, even though he was not
gathered A into the assembly, for he granted that he might pass time and be attended to by his spouse, the lady, in a kindly manner, as he himself might choose, according to what was fitting.
3. Concerning the inevitable debilitation of public affairs.
Thus, the affairs of the Church, [P. 149] by that day, had reached this conclusion, but the affairs of the Roman state had been completely weakened. For it became an advantage to us in the current times for greed to be practiced by those mediating and receiving payments. This was acceptable to many who were in authority, whether they were willing to pay or not (for quite often, this was not even the least part, since they were worthy of taking [payment])—or perhaps they were unable to curb the prices, while it gave license to others who were giving, as they hoped they would have [more]. Secondly, in addition to these, there was the deficiency in paying out the assigned [stipends] B to those in the frontiers—the leaders, for the most part, being wicked, were willing to delay the funds given to those stationed there so that they might profit. These things, then, were brought to a single point. For the calm temperament of the reigning emperor, along with his sympathetic and gentle nature regarding judgments and punishments, produced a great evil, one that was not at all beneficial to those who suffered. Yet, as the emperor's impulse stood, while the strength of the nerves (which were the funds) still existed, he did not hesitate to send them, making the movements of the Roman general body more robust. But little by little, the evil increased, and it checked those being sent—both those worthy of [ruling] positions and those who were resisting as well as they could—joining the fighting men from Crete C to the local forces; these men, having crossed over from Crete to the emperor because they were unwilling to accept the domination of the Latins, he settled in the East, and providing for them with annual payments as faithful allies, he made use of them. Frequent, however, was the [practice of] joining them [to the forces] due to the lack of funds, as I said, and being paid out indiscriminately. And it was, D as it was previously stated, the matter of the provision for each [person] on the basis of time or [his] holding command
and he also held the A tenth. Yet even so, as they were being unnerved, the loss turned upon the neighboring inhabitants. And the miserable people were being burdened, but they did not know where, or to what extent, they were going to be burdened in the end; for if they had by all means known what they were about to suffer in a little while, they would have abandoned their whole life [and property] in their demands.
9. Concerning Philanthropenos and his rebellion.
B Consequently, as the extremities were suffering, such that not only the regions along the Meander and those belonging to that yoke, but now even [the regions] further within were vanishing as a result of the frequent incursions of the Persians, the second son of the aforementioned protovestiarios Tarchaneiotes, Alexios Philanthropenos—[named] so after his maternal grandfather, the first of all to be honored with the dignity of protosebastos—having been honored by the emperor with the title of Pincerna, is proclaimed commander of the regions around what is called Asia Minor, and furthermore Lydia and C Celbianon, even as far as the sea itself, while the protovestiarios Libadarios was still in command of the regions around Neokastra. So then, the Pincerna, taking with him [that] command and all the forces in the East—[aided] both by his natural quickness and by a zeal befitting his generalship, and also by what is termed by many as Fortune (for let this also be stated, as it was a common saying among the ancients, by which Scipios and Crassi and Caesars, and furthermore Themistocles and Timothei and Cleones performed noble deeds, and to which, as to other gods, they even dedicated temples) — he was both restoring and securing the regions in the East, partly by battles in which he was victorious, but for the most part by prudence and by generosity toward both enemies and friends alike; for [he was] suppressing the madness against our own [people] and making the enemy more amenable, and for the others, by increasing honors and strengthening [their] zeal, D not only allowing each one to gain whatever happened to come into his hands from the spoils of others, but also adding most of it from his own [means]; the fortune-aided virtue was leading the wealth from the enemies into his hands. For in addition to the others, also a certain fortress near Melanudion of the Two Hills, formerly ours,
A which was reputed to be Miletian, happened to be captured by war in the following way. For the primary wife of the Persian Salampakis, who had passed away from among men, had been kept there, and all kinds of wealth had been stored as a treasure. To take the fortress by the law of war seemed impossible for the time being, but he knew how to outwit the woman, promising that if she were sent to him, he would take her as his wife in secret. Though he sent many times, he did not persuade her; having paused, he tied together the boats of the lake with ropes, and by dropping very large logs onto them, he constructed towers. Having filled the other ships with soldiers, he set up siege engines on them and fought—for he himself was not held in low regard by the enemies, but gained a name at once formidable and at the same time lovely, so that many even went over to him and were gladly ranged under him—and thus he captures the fortress, and he secures wealth from there that could not easily be counted, and made his life affluent. B Whence also many, having been enslaved under him, rejoiced, and were marshaled under him according to whatever they might be commanded, as having been settled there with their wives and children out of affection. Thence, also, contrary to expectation, those marshaled under him, and more so the Cretans, began to serve him both in ways and words beyond what was fitting for him, and urged him toward a revolt from the Emperor. He, being young, moreover, and puffed up by a most lofty pride, at first, his thoughts wavering, was long in beseeching the Emperor to transfer him from the command. But he did not persuade him. I know this well, having learned it by inquiring of the Emperor Michael, who was conversing with us and speaking of both brothers, and how he considered it a sign of great praise that his brother, with regard to the other, urged the dissolution of the command. For since he sought to be released from the command even through mediators, and was much C sought after by his own, but also by those who were coming over, it rendered his life affluent. As a result, those who had been enslaved under him rejoiced, and were marshaled under him in accordance with whatever they had been commanded, as if having been moved there together with their wives and children out of affection. Thence, also, those marshaled under him, and more so the Cretans, because they had come to cherish him beyond what was expected, began to pay him attention in character and in words beyond what was fitting for him, and urged him toward a revolt from the Emperor. He, being young moreover, and puffed up by a most lofty pride, at first, his thoughts wavering, was much given to beseeching the Emperor to transfer him from the command. But he did not persuade him. I know this from having learned it by inquiring of the Emperor Michael, who was conversing with us and speaking of both brothers, and as putting it among those things worthy of great praise that his brother urged the dissolution of the command with respect D to the other. For since he sought to be released from the command even through mediators, and was much [alt-version omitted]
A grieved to hear of his brother's importunity, he complained and rebuked it; and in the presence of the Emperor himself, he judged the matter to be close to infidelity—that anyone once established in a command should, before the Emperor had been moved of his own accord to order it, seek and force his own dismissal. The Emperor, having accepted this argument, was speaking to us at his leisure about both men: he disclosed the petition of the former to lay down his command, but he marveled at the judgment of the latter, showing by his speech how much more he understood than the other regarding what is owed to emperors by those in authority, as is to be expected. Thus, then, did he decide to manage the first matters, to ward off such reasonings.
Since, however, the proverb holds that a drop, by its persistence, hollows out even the rock, and those around him were restless for innovation, fawning upon him in a manner beyond that due to a general, and some even went so far as to imagine—as if it were a future occurrence—the Emperor’s aversion to him as a malice, saying that he, having amassed such B wealth, was being compelled to provide the forces, while the other desired to misappropriate the booty taken from the enemies through those forces, a youthful spirit arising from this success began to incline toward what they desired, and they started to act with disregard for the sovereign. There were with him also monastics—one, Tarchas, being a friend from the West, but at that time governing the monastery of the Sanides; the other being the relative Acropolites Melchisedech, who was an uncle of his wife—who held him in high regard. These men, as they were, hastened to urge the undertaking; for they said much that fortune was swift to act, if he did not anticipate it and cut off the anger of the Emperor.
The entire army, moreover, was agitated and excited toward disorder, either because they held those around the Emperor in hatred, or because they clearly desired the change, feeling indignant that they themselves were undergoing labors and perpetual dangers while granting the power to others, and that those others, living in ease and luxury, did not seem likely to show them even gratitude. C When there was a suspicion that hope and fear were conspiring to the same end, the same men who showed him the great rewards of such a defection held the threat of the powerful over him—that if he did not vigorously seize the opportunity, they would visit terrible things upon him. They claimed, of course, that they themselves were secretly envied, and that the Emperor was preparing grave calamities for the future. They said that the Emperor and his ministers were bitterly resentful that Philanthropenos, having gathered such great spoils from the enemy in so many successful incursions, was distributing the whole of it through expenditures and donatives to enrich his own soldiers, leaving nothing for the treasury. Thus, hemmed in on all sides, the youth’s mind, puffed up by the gifts of fortune and relying on the consciousness of his own power, gradually began to lean toward what those evil counselors desired, such a contempt for the Emperor being engendered in him that he considered him a mere nobody, unequal to maintaining his own rule. D Certain monks also labored to confirm such sentiments and persuasions in Philanthropenos: Tarchas, to wit, his friend, who was from the Western regions but then prefect at the monastery of the Sanides, and his relative, the uncle of his wife, Acropolites Melchisedech. These men urged Philanthropenos with all their might to quickly hasten the plan for rebellion, remembering the inconstancy of fortune and advising him that, with this in mind, he must beware lest the Emperor, who had favored him so intensely until now, might doubtlessly forge very grave evils for him in the future if he turned hostile. The single way to forestall this and clear it from his path was to cast off the mask as soon as possible and shake off the yoke of servitude. They were vehemently joined in the same, with the concord of the whole army, as well as the leanings of nearly all the commanders and soldiers who were counted in those camps. Among all of these, the Emperor and his family were held in great hatred. They murmured about them everywhere, indignant that their own labors, continuous dangers, and most miserable hardships were purchasing peace.
A from those who were far from moderate, and were even losing their settled allowances, not only those hoping for an easy life. A And, approaching him in ranks, they treated him with greater care than might be expected, and they deemed him more worthy to rule than the others, and were even compelling him, caring little for the Emperor or those around him. For it was possible for them, from many things, to deliberate securely, and especially from three most powerful factors: first, that all the people, burdened by exactions and constraints, were ready for rebellion; second, that all who served under him were well-disposed towards him; and third, that he had a numerous force of Persians, who knew no one other than the man who had received them when they defected and had treated them as was fitting; they numbered into the thousands, were all battle-ready, and were bound to the single gaze B of the one who led them. By saying these things, they were softening his resolve, which was already wavering toward the weight of authority, and were persuading him to revolt openly. Then, therefore, seeing so many men full of such boldness B hastening forward, regarding the magnitude of the undertaking, he was at first very timid and mildly overwhelmed by fear, but because of their thoughtless rashness, he was buoyed by the greatest hopes and grew confident in the daring deed. Yet, wanting to know by experience the opinion of the rest, and whether all were siding with the same cause, he gathered them all together. Standing in their midst, he spoke at great length, through which he demonstrated his love for them and his popular C nature in all respects, as well as his zeal for the Roman cause together with them, and not only his cold reception by those living in ease and luxury (speaking of those around the Emperor), but, no less than that, the estrangement and the myriad of unmerited accusations they leveled, as if he himself were luxuriating in C these dealings while they—the soldiers—were wasting away in their helmets and were being exposed to enemy combat, for it seemed that these men did not rejoice in their own successes, but rather grieved and were in distress as if they were suffering evils. D Having heard this, he was softened, of course, and willingly allowed himself to be diverted from the rectitude of the duty owed by a subject to his rulers into something base. And from this source, as he contemplated the zeal, the pledges, and the eagerness of so many brave men who were calling him to power and placing in him their hopes for a happy life hereafter, he was easily enticed into conceiving the audacity of an open rebellion. Again, as he weighed the magnitude of the empire, the risk of the undertaking, and the greatness of the enterprise, that initial impetus grew so faint that he seemed to be seized by manifest horror and gripped by excessive dread. Therefore, caught between these shifting tides—on one side by hope, forced upon him by the suggestions of others, and on the other by fear, brought on by his own circumspection—he hesitated, although he was balanced by the weight of these forces on either side. Still uncertain of his course, in order to discover the secret sentiments of others whose leanings were less obvious by experiment, and to prove whether his soldiers would all unanimously conspire to follow him to the end in whatever he might undertake, he summoned them all to a military assembly. He stood elevated in the midst and discoursed at length, laboring mightily to demonstrate his affection for everyone and his mild and popular manner of commanding in all things, as well as his zeal for the Roman state—both his own and theirs, which he perceived. He also boasted and congratulated them both, common to all, because they were so far removed from sycophancy toward those idle men who spent their lives in relaxation and luxury (thus he maligned the Emperor and those assiduous about him), so that they might freely express their indignation and in no way disguise their aversion to their cowardly and sluggish effeminacy. Here he burst forth freely into countless accusations against the rulers, which had little or nothing to do with the matter, claiming that the Emperor was indeed performing his duties in a playful manner, seeking only his own pleasure from them, and that together with the familiar ministers of the regime...
A and those who pretend to be under his yoke and willing to be ordered by him. Hence, they encouraged one another, since they saw that nothing they knew would be changed, and they compelled him to accept the leadership, as if for his sake, and as if they would all die if they were brought to some necessity. And let this happen; for they could find no reason, having once thrown off the reins, to be ambivalent toward him, but they demanded that he stand firmly in his resolve and not squander any of the things that bring aid to his goals out of wavering. For it was not right that they, having immediately joined themselves to him with full reins and holding only to him, should be ready to yield and slacken either through flattery or fear. For they saw that some, even among the oppressed, would risk suffering the ultimate consequences if all did not together boldly and from one and the same resistance repel the weight that had befallen them—if any were to weaken, all would suffer the extremes. And that this too was B no less a struggle, and one demanding constant resistance from all as is fitting. As they said these things and gave each other confidence through their mutual trust, he yielded—with difficulty—to the leadership C of the people, who were indifferent to public affairs, having no concern for whether things went well or ill for the people, provided only that their own account was certain and their enjoyment of pleasures was maintained. "For in the meantime," he added, "we labor in their place; our heads grow gray under helmets. We stand in the battle line; we fight the battles against the enemy, and would that they, who delight in the fruit of our hardships, at least deigned to rejoice at the news of our victories! Instead, they envy us that very hollow honor, and seek pretexts for anger, lest they appear to owe us any gratitude. Therefore, we have known them to seethe upon hearing of our successes and to give signs of inner pain; indeed, they even complain as if they had suffered an injury. From this you can understand what reward we ought to expect from them for our heroic deeds. But daily experience teaches us this very thing more certainly: we are accustomed to receive nothing else from them but orders for new labors, reductions in old stipends, withholding of food, and finally, threats of even worse fate in the future. For we learn from the faithful reports of friends that grave charges are either being plotted or, once invented, are being brought against us; and while they deliberate about these things, what choice remains for us but to lead a fearful and anxious life in the sad expectation of the most savage punishments, because we are soon to suffer the worst for the only reason that we have done the best? Nor are the feelings of these ministers D who govern affairs there more ungrateful toward us than those of the Prince himself. He is the first, and more than all others, he envies us; he it is who implacably hates us; he it is who greedily receives all the sinister rumors about our affairs from wherever they come, and has his ears inexorably closed to any defenses of those who advocate for our innocence. But see how from him, who is estranged from the fortunate [index: entries preserved]
A estate, he receives the title. And it was evident from that point on that he was establishing himself apart, as though from then on he governed with absolute authority, bearing the command and the uncontrolled rule, yet he did not yet dare to be glorified by the regalia or even by the name, although he was forcing many of the leaders in the army to agree. He took hold of affairs with more authority, and nothing appeared to be that which he himself had formerly feared, nor did he seem to obey others at all from that time forward; but he himself [P. 148] was leader in all things, and he passed by both among his own and elsewhere. For the neighbors at that time shuddered at the gathering, and even more so because the Persian force was large, whom he indeed used as faithful allies and protectors, and he dared to command them, as though they would immediately run together and act according to his will. The name of the emperors was extinguished there, except for being recalled only for mockery and derision. He himself was to them both lord and leader, bearing the dignity, if not the name, of an emperor. And as many of the fortresses there as he had previously taken hold of as lieutenant of the emperor, these he sent away the custodians of and placed his own men in. And wherever he happened to visit the monasteries (and these are many and very great), it was not the name of the emperor that was mentioned, but his own, and that alone, as though he held some lordly and autonomous power. From which he also seized many things despotically and provided them to the soldiers, the possessors willingly laying them down for this reason: that having fallen into such times, they were not suffering what was appropriate for the times, but remained unpillaged and untroubled. His first military stratagem was to send out men to seize the emperor’s brother, Theodore, who was staying there. Having seized him, they brought him and locked him up in the fortress at Ephesus. Afterwards, having undertaken the campaign, and with the affairs having been unexpectedly gathered to them, they pitched camp at the places around Nymphaeum. And indeed he was keeping the cavalry together and cheering them with all sorts of honors, and he prepared the infantry as capable men-at-arms by mounting them on horses. He was also looking toward those who held authority elsewhere, and B they thought that besides an army so numerous and strong, there were ready at Philanthropenos’s beck and call—awaiting only the sign to arrive—the most powerful forces from Persia; and when these were added to the rebel faction, where and from whom could it be hoped that there would be found enough suitable forces to be able to resist in time? The authority of the whole empire had been extinguished in those regions, and the name of the Emperors was mentioned only for mockery and insult. One leader, one prince, Philanthropenos, was celebrated, in whose hands the sum of authority resided in practice, however much he had not yet assumed the title or the regalia of an emperor. The fortresses of that frontier, which he had hitherto held by a fiduciary right as commissioned by the Emperor, he now staffed with new guards from his own loyal militia, having removed the old garrisons in order to claim them properly for himself. In the monasteries which occurred along his way (and there are many and very great ones in those tracts) he ordered the customary mention of the Emperors to be omitted during the sacred rites, and commanded his own name to be mentioned as the sovereign subject to no one, with no one daring to refuse. For what could the unarmed ascetics say against the C leader’s army, which surrounded them on all sides as he proved in fact that he was the master of all, not even sparing sacred things, carrying off much from the monasteries to distribute to the soldiers, while the monks willingly handed over whatever was demanded, since they reflected that, according to the condition of the times, these little and tolerable losses ought to be endured by those who, in such infested places and in so turbulent a storm, had hitherto remained unplundered and in a sufficiently tranquil state. Furthermore, the first hostile act of Philanthropenos after he had rebelled was to send men to capture Theodore, the emperor's brother, who happened to be staying in the vicinity at that time, and he ordered him to be carried off to the fortress situated at Ephesus and there be kept locked up. Hence, having now pushed on further than at first
A regarding how he might overcome them. And while he was indifferent to the others—not being hopeful that they could be firmly secured to his purpose either by force or by words—regarding the protovestiarios Libadarius, he was of a mind to capture him with even greater care, both because Libadarius held the command over the regions around Neocastra and all of Lydia and the city of Sardis itself, and because, although he was otherwise haughty, Philanthropenos thought nothing of him, expecting to capture him as easily as a hare. But it was shown through these designs that wherever God opposes, even he who seems slow overtakes the swiftest, and every power that lacks wisdom is vain. For those who were with him were eager to see that man, too, in the royal vestments, so that, having cast away all risk, and being firmly established, they might act with full zeal and be willing to die for the undertaking. But the daring deed remained in suspension, such that it seemed he was fearful B and vacillating. And while he was content with the present, yet looking toward the future, he was humoring them in every way, and appeared to be grateful for the eagerness they showed toward him, while he himself was withdrawing from the greatest matters.
10. Regarding the protovestiarios Libadarius, and how he was overcome by Philanthropenos.
And as they beheld these hesitations of the leader, their minds were improvising interpretations not outside of what was likely, and they were in deep suspicion; from the other side, too, the protovestiarios, the event having fallen out against all expectation and he being not hopeful of a firm conclusion, was also very distrustful. He himself was weighing the time, balancing it out; he treated the present as it allowed, yet he kept a wary eye on the future, and even provided for an apology to be left in case he should stumble. But to the Cretans, and especially to their leader Chortatzes, this did not seem safe for the time being; for it seemed to him that even if he should change his mind and make petition to the emperor later, and surrender himself into the hands of those who might appeal to the emperor under apparent safety, and perhaps even receive great favors, yet to them the danger would be inescapable in any case, having no place to which they could depart or retreat in flight. C And as these things were unfolding, the leader was in deep anxiety, wondering how he might turn his mind. Meanwhile, Libadarius was struck by a totally unexpected occurrence, and though he was deeply grateful to the emperor, by whom he remembered he had been honored, and was besides concerned for the public safety and the highest affairs, D and for the state of danger at the hands of so potent a faction...
For how could he possibly have withstood such a massive number of troops, once so great a danger had been recklessly unleashed? Even if he considered the chances of a clash, the danger arising from it was not enough to resolve the anxiety he felt about these matters. For apart from the forces from the Roman lands, he thought the Persian and foreign contingents alone that were with him were sufficient against those opposing him, to such a degree that there was no need to stand against them once they appeared. Furthermore, it was to be expected that those who had dared to engage in such fearsome acts would be more courageous than they ought, since their defeat would entail danger to themselves. He had to assume his opponents would be of like mind, so that the scales would be evenly balanced in the fight; yet it happened that they were not so by necessity, and especially since they did not know how to join in civil wars A nor how, with boldness, number, and an irrational spirit, to resist those with the greatest wisdom, in the hope that he might thus perhaps accomplish at least something, if not the whole. And immediately he sends men to report what had occurred to the Emperor, and he sends to others, in secret, among the Cretans—men he knew to be of the opinion that Chortatzes was putting forward—promising them, with an oath, both an amnesty from the Emperor for their evils and that they would be rewarded with the greatest honors, if they should turn back, change their minds, and, under the guise of an appearance of war, hand over the rebel. For it would seem from this that they were both good men and loyal to the Emperor, and that they had been forced against their will by the sweep of events to submit to what had been done, not being able to resist or to stop such a great crowd moved to revolt; and B that the matter...
presently, as the moment was pressing, and men had appeared to oppose what was happening, they were also ready, having been recalled, to manifest their original faith by cooperating with those who were resisting in every way. He himself was to receive them, not so that they might suffer any irremediable harm from the Emperor, but that they might even find benefits. When those around Chortatzes heard this, they hesitated for a long time and tried to decide how they might secure safety for themselves. The plan was that if those men forced the general, and he himself moved on to greater things—so as to yield even in name and customary insignia—then they too, having received guarantees that he would hold out to the end, would take the risk. But if he were unwilling to do these things, they would escape the danger by every means possible. A Since those who said these things did not persuade him—but rather saw him acting haughtily regarding those who were to appear, and cleansing with insults the man who was rumored to be set in battle array against him, as if he were about to plunder him at once (for this even seemed to encourage their impulses, and he was unwilling to accept anything more)—those men, supposing that these things were taking place under deliberation and that he wished to store them up for a time of repentance—a thing which perhaps might be profitable for him, but which would result in danger for them alone—they "turned the stern," as the saying goes, and inclined their opinions toward the Protovestiarios. Having received and given pledges consisting of oaths full of horror and even the exchange of holy encolpia, they swore to hand him over into the hands of—
B his most ruinous crime by his own arts, and to turn the destruction he was foolishly forging for those who trusted in him with hidden plots energetically against the head of the most ungrateful deceiver. The Cretan leaders, having departed from their secret consultation, immediately brought this summary of their plans into action. They approached Philanthropenos first and alleged that, as the battle was imminent, it would be opportune for the strengthening of the courage of their men for him to finally put off the leader of the army—who still seemed to cling to them—and the appearance of a servitude not yet sufficiently renounced. They claimed this would be a most effective incentive for all who were operating under his auspices to break through to any goal, as they would remember that they were fighting for the true Augustus, whereas if this were absent, they would fight more sluggishly and with more circumspection. To these things, he flatly refused to do what they asked. Furthermore, he forbade them to be concerned about the outcome of the battle, as they had put forward. For he said that at the very first sight, those few and unwarlike forces of an inactive and inexperienced adversary would melt away, and he would himself tooth and nail tear apart and devour [the enemy]; whom, therefore, being someone who should fear this very thing, it appeared he was nothing less than insane to be running headlong into destruction by not hesitating to confront him. C When he boasted in such a Thrasonic manner about himself, and indulged in most arrogant threats, and lacerated his rival with insults and reproaches, they bade Chortatzes farewell with his men and, as they say, with the helm reversed, they turned their course in the opposite direction. D They approach secretly and show themselves ready to agree to what he was asking. An agreement to this effect was confirmed on both sides by oaths and by horrific imprecations against whichever party might prove false. They even exchanged the sacred amulets from their necks, which is the custom, hanging them into the bosom of the other, to be taken as a most certain pledge of a will irrevocably fixed in the performance of their promises. The Cretans bound themselves with such an oath to seize their leader Philanthropenos at the very first gathering for battle, when the line was already drawn up on both sides, and to hand him over to Libadarios. The affair was agreed upon for that most decisive moment in time, when the struggle had not yet been joined but was merely being prepared, because if it were delayed any further, there was a danger that the Persians, who were very numerous and stout-handed, might [support] Philanthropenos...
A indulge in extreme youthful bravado and sally forth. Indeed, the forces on either side were drawn up and were all but about to join battle, so much so that skirmishes were taking place on both sides, and the Cretans, disregarding the signal, were waiting. As the Protovestiarios appeared, he was anxious about the whole situation, fearing that those who had until now been promising to betray him might act with treachery and deceit. Consequently, those around Chortatzes, just as they were B—mounted and armed—suddenly surrounded the leader from all directions. Some seized the reins, others his sword, and others commanded him more sternly to dismount his horse. Realizing the plot, he immediately attempted to defend himself, trusting in the Persians; but, finding himself overwhelmed, he gave up entirely. He was seized by those around the Protovestiarios and delivered as a ready prize—the man who was once haughty now humble, and the one who spoke many words now silent before the hunter who had been lying in wait C as if for a wild beast driven into the prepared nets.
11. How Philanthropenos was surrendered.
But the mistress also arrived; it was the following day. Having gathered the forces he had from Lydia, he positioned himself at Nymphaion, where the rebels were staying. Philanthropenos, for his part, was holding the tower there which the Porphyrogenitos had built while he was living in that place; he had shut himself inside along with his wife, his child, and his belongings, and had secured himself. At first, hearing of his arrival, he was struck with the greatest astonishment, wondering how he could possibly dare to approach with such a small force against so many and such men. Nevertheless, trusting in the overall situation, and thinking that by showing himself at once he would achieve everything, he gave orders for the others to arm themselves; he himself equipped himself with all speed, and behaved with D great youthful display, fully armed, and marched against the one who had appeared, fully confident—as if he were already certain of his success—in his heart that he would win the day at the first sight of him. But behold, when the lines were drawn up on either side and the fighting had already begun to be preluded by skirmishes between the pickets on both sides, the Cretans, not unmindful of their promises, as the Protovestiarios appeared, conspicuous in the midst of his own ranks, and was looking around anxiously—while he was mentally disturbed by the instability of paid soldiery and the hidden treacheries, and was awaiting the fulfillment of the promises not without sharp fear pricking his mind—Chortatzes and his men at once surrounded Philanthropenos from all sides, just as they were, armed and on horseback, flocking together from here and there. Having wrenched the reins of his bridle from his hands, some drew their swords, while others more imperiously commanded him to dismount his horse. The wretch then belatedly realized what was being prepared and found that the assault of his own men to protect him with the help of the Persians was void. For, being crushed in his attempt and thrown into confusion, he lost heart, and allowed himself to be led off in chains against his will to the Protovestiarios; to him—from being arrogant, he was yielded up humble; from being boastful, he was handed over silent, like a wild beast driven into nets, to the hunter who was waiting with eager anticipation. Philanthropenos having been thus placed in the safest custody, those same Cretans, joined with the forces of Libadarios, rushed with full might upon his army, which had been struck by the incident and was initially wavering in uncertainty, but soon began to scatter, and they bore down irrevocably upon them, pursuing them as they were terrified and scattered in every direction, running in various ways as hope turned them, anxiously seeking hiding places and an escape from certain destruction. The condition of the Persians was most miserable. They were far from their homeland, their road back to their own lands was cut off, and they had been suddenly, unexpectedly deprived of the protection of their leader, in whose power they had believed they were most securely ensconced when they had safely penetrated into hostile territory. When they suddenly saw the man upon whose resources alone they had relied, now miserable and crushed by an irremediable catastrophe, and bound in unbreakable chains, they were for a long time at a loss as to where to turn. Thus, being unable either to stand their ground or to flee, they were slaughtered on the spot. One was seized by this man, another by that, others by still others, and they abused them as they pleased—killing them, carrying them off as captives, wounding, mutilating, blinding, despoiling, and plundering them; by which they were variously [index: entries preserved]
A pursued. Now, the Persian host seemed to be newly in a state of agitation, seeing the change of events and seeing him who had until then seemed great and formidable, now a pitiful prisoner in inescapable conditions; they had nowhere to turn. Wherefore, being able neither to resist nor to flee, while they remained, they were slaughtered. One catching this man, another that, and a third another, they acted according to what seemed best to each—killing, binding, inflicting torture, blinding, and confiscating their possessions. It seemed safe for the Persians to depart from there toward their homes, and some fled as they could, while the rest were being slaughtered. Those around the Protovestiarios, considering the retreat even more of a godsend, willingly let them go; for they had no reason to hope for more from the first success, and they thought that if the situation had proceeded for them with such immense good fortune, they should not throw away what was in their hands, as some might be stirred to action and attack them in retaliation. There were fearsome sights and panic, with all things gripped by terror. For this reason, the Protovestiarios, fearing for the whole situation lest the prize be snatched from their B hands—for the common people were armed by a terrible goodwill, and disregarding their own affairs, they wept for him—deeming also that the Persian force was especially disturbed, seeing the change in affairs, and knowing how to rip out the foundation and put the support out of the way, so as to resolve the fears which he dreamed of while awake; having gathered therefore countless wealth, and finding the gifts of virtue to be a plaything of fortune, he finally handed him over to Jews to be blinded. And the man was blinded, having pleaded many things for one of his eyes, but having failed to persuade them at all. Those who were freed from the fears from that quarter began to attack the rest, and they did the same to others, along with the monks, savagely skinning their eyes, while plucking others from their entire livelihood, and in the guise of vengeance for the rulers, they surrendered the wealth to themselves.
12. How and when the Emperor heard of the rebellion.
These things were done in the month of Skiraphorion, about the days of Christ’s Nativity; but on the first day of Hekatombaion, those who had been sent to report the news arrived, who, as knowing nothing more, reported not the suppression of the rebellion, but rather its beginning and formation. And there was immediately an uproar, and anger, and grief, as the report was divided. They were angry, indeed,
for the fact that a man so young, and raised by them, should dare such things, while setting at naught the oaths sworn to the emperors. Yet they were afraid, also, for his fiery and youthful disposition, and they surmised that the task would be a very great one—not just to overcome those who were fighting to the end, but even to tame them, for the time being, by means of supplications. Thus, even while the rebellion still seemed to be taking shape, they were greatly troubled, and they imagined that all the power was being destroyed; and, as if having been robbed of the greater part of their authority, they were anxious even for what remained, and a terrible gloom had settled over the palace. And indeed, when the brother of the one who had rebelled, the protosebastos, appeared, they poured out upon him their anger in more copious measure, and they attacked him with threats and insults, so that their anger and fury might strike against someone who was present, and not be spent in vain upon the air. At last, despairing of the struggle against him, they determined to draw the rebel back to themselves with fair promises and marks of friendship, and it seemed best to them to send an embassy to him with speed. And there were chosen for this embassy the blind Isaac Raul and the protovestiarissa Theodora. And the task laid upon them was this: to use a boat and, having arrived, A to promise him the emperor's favor and the title of Caesar, and the appropriate provisions for that office, if only he could be persuaded to change his mind to the emperor’s good will and be brought back to his original submission.
13. Concerning the good tidings and the emperor’s thanksgiving to the Theotokos.
B But the sixth day had not yet passed since that time, when good tidings arrived, to the effect that the affairs of the rebels had been brought to an end some days before. And inquiring in detail, they learned that the terrible news was announced to them at the very time when their sorrows were subsiding, and that when they themselves were anxious about those things, those others were even then enjoying the completed suppression of their troubles. The emperor, however, judging that he ought to attribute everything to the Mother of God, and believing that it was as her helper that the insurgents’ hubris had been so swiftly quelled, determined that to her alone he ought to pay the thanks. And at the moment he received the news and believed it, having gone out on foot from the palace C through the way, with the retinue that was about him, he arrived at the monastery D of the Hodegon, and standing before the venerable icon, he rendered...the customary adoration, offering up fervent supplication; and, moreover, he gave thanks with warm devotion, saying that he placed his life and the empire and the Church into her hands, and that from her alone he hoped for the worthy administration of both. Having uttered these things with deep feeling and rendered the appropriate thanks, he mounted a horse and returned to the palace. B An imperial mandate of gratitude was drafted for the Protovestiarius, containing the promise of supreme honor for him, among many other things. This, not long after, he fulfilled for him upon his arrival in Constantinople, bestowing the title of Grand Stratopedarch, and rejoicing to reward him for his own zeal.
14. Concerning the Persians who were around Philanthropenos.
From that point, the outcome for the Persians was total destruction. Those whom he had led to the East having defected, and those who arrived later, were bringing ruin upon the land for those people. I suspect that, even if it had not happened before that the East was utterly laid waste, it later came to pass because those men, suffering for what they had endured, and those who knew the regions precisely—and who, besides, were accustomed to the former fear and wonder—were able to range freely, even as others who despised everything, inflicting the greatest damage, and gathering together with them others like dogs who had feasted on carrion. And thus, little by little, occupying the Roman territories, they showed the land from the Euxine Sea to the sea by Rhodes to be desert in both length and breadth. But these things are for later.
15. Concerning the sedition which occurred between the Genoese and the Venetians, and concerning the earthquake.
C [P 158] At that time, a great and grave conflict having arisen between the Genoese and the Venetians, so that everyone was at enmity with everyone else, and it became an evil meeting for them both, whether sailing on ships or traveling by land, there was no time at all when one did not hear of the Genoese treating the Venetians with the utmost cruelty, or vice-versa, sinking whole ships with everyone on board, seizing their wealth, or destroying it, so that every mediation—even that of the Church directed toward peace—was entirely... without result, and they would not even listen to any mention
A of peace. The month of Maimakterion began, and three days before Constantine the emperor had set out toward Chele, a fortress surrounded by the sea, and was still encamped at Damatrys awaiting the portion of the palace household he had ordered to follow him. On the evening of the first of the month, around midnight, a great earthquake occurred, acting like the pulses of a living body, with alternating contraction and expansion. Those who have written about such things say that this type of earthquake is the most harmful and formidable, as it causes the very foundations of the earth to be turned over and torn apart. Truly, the shock was such that no one, young or old, could recall anything like it, let alone greater. Some of those who had reached a ripe old age compared it to that one B which is called the "Great Earthquake" par excellence; for in this case, too, at intervals of many days, and many times during the day or night, there appeared the remnant of that spirit, weaker, so that on the seventeenth of the month of Anthesterion, here the duration was longer but slighter in intensity, whereas in the East it was greater and more terrible than the previous one. The disaster at that time struck from the areas around Pergamon, passing through the middle of Chliara and as far as the parts of Persis itself, so that in many places the ground gaped open, and in some places it even propelled waters from the depths, and the foundations of the fortress at Chliara were overturned, C and famous temples and houses fell down. When the first great earthquake of those we have witnessed struck, many structures in the city that had stood for a long time fell, and many new houses were also destroyed. As for the stone fences of the courtyards, which consisted of dry-laid stones, one could see them all lying in piles, as if a mason had piled them up from elsewhere and intended to build walls. Two great works, by their collapse, signified the violence of the movement. For the church of All Saints, which had stood until then, lacking nothing necessary for its protection, suffered a pitiable rupture and a fall of its roof, as much as had been built over the sanctuary and as much over the center. And the bronze statue of the Archangel, which stood there—resting on a column-like base, having the emperor Michael at its feet, holding the city and dedicating it to him and entrusting its protection to him—this statue, I say, had its head struck off, D and the city in the hands of the sovereign slipped away, and both fell to the ground. When these things had happened, at the break of day the whole city, distraught by the feeling of so dire a calamity, ran to the great church, where they occupied themselves in propitiating God with prayers. But the emperor, who was then outside the city, as we have said, and realized how great the evil was, he indeed feared for the city, uniting
in his fear for the great temple, so that he sent many people hour by hour to see from afar if it was still standing. Finally, deeming his departure from the city ill-omened in light of such a dire sign, he decided to return; and the next morning, having crossed the strait, he returned, struck with great shock and, as it were, stunned, professing that he recognized the scourge as divine retribution, which indeed it was. A B 4
16. Concerning the procession and the emperor's speech.
Therefore, he was eager to propitiate the Divine on his own account, and he judged it right to be concerned about matters of justice. For he considered it the duty of an emperor to ensure that legal judgments were rendered without iniquity and without respect of persons, nowhere weakened by gifts or favors, since the honor of the king loves judgment. He believed that this had been neglected for some time, due to a certain negligence or corruption of the judges, as he himself thought. Accordingly, having ordered a supplication for the entire people, he too met with many other princes, as was often the custom. And while he left to the patriarch and the archpriests their own duties—namely, prayers, psalmodies, and other such things by which it is natural for the Divine to be appeased—he himself, having extemporized a speech suitable for the occasion, and wishing to hold together those who had been gathered, limited the procession to the Hippodrome, as a place that could hold everyone. Standing C directly opposite the icon of the Mother of God, he delivered a long and arduous speech to the people, pointing out that the divine wrath had manifested itself in threats and blows, while also reproaching them for living carelessly and having no regard for divine laws and ordinances. Yet, he focused the whole matter on injustice, as if the judgment rendered in each case, which he, as emperor, logically decided also concerned him, was not being carried out as it should. Hence, from then on, he promised to compose a chrysobull decree concerning judgment, and to select judges from among the high priests, other clergy, and senators, so that they would all total twelve. He would have them swear an oath that they would deliver judgments without accepting bribes and without respect of persons, from his own mother and lady, right down to any commoner, so that he might employ faithful and upright judges in the palace. And after having offered much other advice, he dismissed the people. D
17. Concerning the golden bull decree regarding judges and judgments.
A few days later, the golden bull decree was drawn up, and suitable persons were chosen as judges. Then, a new assembly was again convened at the palace of the empress, for the emperor was by chance staying there at that time, and he delivered a speech appropriate to the matters at hand, after which the golden bull decree was read. An oath was also administered to some of the judges, and those were chosen who were distinguished by their legal experience and wisdom in the senate. And a fearsome tribunal was established, delivering judgments equally for the great and the small alike, although it did not continue for long but, little by little, like the plucking of musical strings, having grown weak, it faded away.
18. Concerning the approach of the Venetians against the Genoese in the city.
Shortly after this, on the twenty-second day of the month of July, the Venetians, having crossed the Hellespont with seventy-five long ships, appeared suddenly at the city of Constantine. It was the Lord's day when they approached right up to the very line of the city walls, sailing with total confidence and the most threatening Italian bluster, rowing their ships against the local current. The emperor, having mounted his horse early that morning, stood in the curve of the Hippodrome and watched the progress of the ships. Down below, the leaders of the military ranks, the Great Domestic John, Sennacherib, and Angelus, armored along with their respective squads and cohorts, were patrolling back and forth inside the walls, intent on countering wherever the ships might attempt a landing, for their intention was not yet clearly understood (as they had no precise way of knowing the reason for their arrival), and there was a fear that they might be plotting some disaster for the city. Consequently, the city gates B were closed and guarded by many armed men inside, while one small gate near the monastery of Saint Lazarus was left open. Through this wicket, a certain prominent Venetian who happened to be present in the city on diplomatic business was sent out by the emperor, with orders to go and find out for what purpose they had come, to detain the messenger, and to demand no reply. For this reason, those Venetians who were in the city were held in grave suspicion and under guard.
The Venetian fleet, meanwhile, as it was being propelled by oars and observed some long Genoese ships at a distance not quite near, turned toward them with hostile intent, seeking to catch them. But the latter, being more agile in movement and lighter in burden, and trusting in their superior speed, checked their oars somewhat and stood still as if waiting. Then, as the Venetians approached closely, they quickened their pace, spreading out to a wider interval than they had maintained before; and there, halting again, they invited the Venetian triremes to pursue them in like manner, only to evade them when they attempted to approach. When this had been done a second and third time, and the Venetians realized they were struggling in vain, they left those ships and D [turned their attention to the harbor called the Horn...]
They did not find the Genoese at Pera, for the latter, having foreseen the Venetian assault, had earnestly begged the Emperor to receive them into the city with their wives, children, and possessions; and the Emperor, since it was already manifest that they were being sought after by the hostile Venetians, was compelled to grant this and had conceded to them the district around the Blachernae for their refuge. B There, these same Genoese had stood ready to defend themselves and their belongings as best they could, having sunk some of their own ships to serve as a barrier near the shore to prevent any landing by the enemy. When the attackers failed to find at home those they were seeking, nor indeed anyone else in Pera—for the Romans who had houses in Galata had also packed up their belongings and retreated into the city—they set fire to the houses of the Italians and completely burned them down. In that act, they drew upon themselves the reproach of foolish impotence, swelling with pride in vain for having taken a place defended by no one, and raging with cowardly fury against inanimate objects. Conversely, the Genoese also brought upon themselves the disgrace of a fear unworthy of brave men, by not daring to stand their ground and protect their hearths and homes, but instead leaving their family dwellings ingloriously and fleeing in terror to the shadow and protection of the walls. C Furthermore, a greater crime of the Venetians was their incursion, attempted against the pledge long since given to the Emperor, within the forbidden boundaries; for it had been agreed from the beginning, when permission was granted to both these Italian peoples to conduct trade freely in the city and throughout these regions, that if any quarrel should arise between them, they should not engage in battle with each other in those places to which the Emperor had originally given his consent—namely, between the straits of Abydos and the Pharos—but that they should seek [for their naval battles] whatever part of the sea they wished outside of this area, and keep that middle interval free from war and quiet through set truces.
Since the Venetians nowadays, puffed up with insolent confidence, did not fear to violate the religious character of this agreement, daring even to seek suppliants for punishment and slaughter within the very imperial house of the Augustus, the Emperor was deservedly incensed at them and permitted the Romans to defend the Genoese, and to stand in arms with them against the oath-breaking assailants. D Thus, just as the Genoese were launching projectiles against the Venetian ships in a long, armed line along the shore, so too did as many of the imperial forces as were then in the city, especially the infantry and light-armed troops, lean out from the walls and with bows and slings harass the men in the ships and make their attacks weaker. They were also already moving a stone-throwing machine, with the Emperor watching from a height—standing safely and out of range—and with the largest stones thrown from it, they were battering the stern ornaments of our ship, which the Venetians were holding and using to fight against the wall, thereby checking their momentum. Since the battle stretched on until evening, and all their machinery fell short of results and they achieved nothing, they abandoned their frenzy and […].
because the Romans themselves had also attacked them, they A indiscriminately set fire to the houses of the Romans that same day and utterly destroyed them. The fire raged through the houses for the entire night, and the day dawned upon them while they were still burning. The Venetians, having brought up their ships and shielded themselves with oblong shields, waged a fierce battle against the Genoese. The latter, however, received their assaults and defended themselves, until they struck down and killed one of their leading men. Because of these events, they fell colder in their expectations, granted a truce to the war, and remained by their ships.
19. How the emperor summoned their leader and sent an embassy.
Then the emperor, having summoned the man who was appointed head of them, brought him under the greatest security, and, having brought him together with others under the proper safeguards, he reproached him for the irrational attacks. He laid out as a clear grievance the violation of the agreements concluded with the Empire, and he judged the setting of fire to the houses of the Romans, while they were stationed among friends, to be an excess of madness. He brought forth many other charges beyond their seeming to act wrongly and contrary to what is expected. Yet from that very interview he sent an embassy B to their assembly, while they themselves accepted on their own ships the man who had been designated as envoy. This was Nicephorus of Crete, an elderly and honorable man, chosen for this duty for many reasons, but especially because the Venetians would likely regard him as their own proper hierarch; for Crete was under them, and he had been proclaimed as archbishop of that place, even if he lived far from it because of the domination of the Latins. The emperor himself, moved to proper indignation—and especially because of the feeling of being held in contempt—restrained the Venetians who were in the city with large sums of money, sequestering as much as eighty thousand [nummi] for the sake of the houses that had been set on fire, as many of those belonging to the Latins as those belonging to the Romans; for he was obligated to defend the houses of the Latins as well, because of the agreements made between the emperor and themselves. It seems to me that for this same reason, the Genoese were later incited against the Venetians who were in the city.
[LATIN COLUMN]
The emperor, having invited the supreme commander of the Venetian fleet to a colloquy, after full assurance of safety had been given, received him—as he arrived with a large retinue of others—with an extremely cheerful countenance and with the appearance of the utmost confidence. The Augustus reproached him unsparingly for his rash daring; and for the clear evidence of treaty-breaking temerity against his own majesty, by which they had perfidiously acted contrary to the pacts long since established between them, he rebuked the crime, also distinguishing its degrees. For he said it was nefarious to have made an incursion into places under the imperial dominion, and specifically into parts of the royal city where, by his permission and under the protection of the Empire, the Genoese resided. But furthermore, concerning that outrageous crime itself, he said that they did not hesitate to burn the houses—even those of the Romans themselves, with whom they were at peace—located at Galata; this was surely the height of madness and the sum of an C excessive and wanton perfidy. When the commander of the Venetian fleet tried to excuse himself with much speaking, he could say nothing to sufficiently purge his insolent act, nor to make the listeners judge anything other than that he and his men had acted wrongly and had transgressed against all that was sacred. Nevertheless, the emperor then thought that an embassy should be sent to their senate, and they willingly admitted this and accepted the chosen envoy on their ships to be carried to their own people. The envoy was the prelate of the Cretans, Nicephorus, whom the emperor thought would be pleasing to the Venetians for this name, because the island of Crete was already subject to them, and they might, with good reason, hope to see at their own location the bishop to whom the place itself was subject. This Nicephorus, indeed, had been chosen and duly ordained bishop of Crete, but he lived far from his church on account of the Latins ruling there. After they had departed, the emperor, as was fitting, indignant that Galata had been hostilely invaded and destroyed by fire in such contempt of him, imposed a pecuniary fine of eighty thousand nummi upon the Venetians dwelling in the city—who, as told before, he had already ordered to be apprehended—to be raised from the goods of all of them, which he ordered to be immediately sequestered, so that the damage of the houses burned there, whether belonging to the Latins or to the Romans, might be repaired: for he judged that he ought to defend the houses of the Latins as well, according to the agreements made with them. It also seems to me that the same cause, namely grief and indignation stinging their souls at the memory of the houses inflamed by the Venetians, incited the Genoese later to rise up against those of them who were then in the city, and to crush them with a fierce incursion D.
20. On the incursion of the Genoese against the Venetians who were in the city.
In the same year, as the month of December was ending, a quarrel arising from a common and trifling offense flared up, and the Genoese were so agitated and mutually exhorted to take up arms that, however much the king of Armenia, who happened to be present in the city at the time—a man well-regarded by both sides through communion in the sacraments, as he lived with the Friars—strove in vain to dissuade them from violence, the many, acting with fierce and savage intent against the few, the meek, and the defenseless, and even forcing the emperor’s own ministers and magistrates who tried to stand against the rising tumult to yield, rushed into nefarious deeds, using as auxiliaries the zeal and fury which the recurring memory of what had happened recently inflamed. Rushing with drawn swords, and gnashing their teeth like boars sharpening them for slaughter, they cruelly butchered many of the wretched people who were bowing down before them and desperately supplicating them in their extreme necessity, slaughtering them inside their homes like victims. For having made a beginning with their bailiff, whom they cast down from the roof under which he was held confined and cut limb from limb, they fell upon others wherever they were found with equal savagery, spreading such great and indiscriminate slaughter that it was not possible, on account of the excessive number, to commit each corpse to a separate grave. Many were necessarily heaped together and piled into one pit as a common tomb. Thus, therefore, with all the more prominent of the Venetians residing in the city destroyed, the remaining ones—almost all base laborers, cobblers, tanners, cabinetmakers, and practitioners of low arts of this kind—at that time indeed hidden by the darkness, escaped the sword; later, urged by fear, they deemed it necessary to return to their fatherland and betake themselves to the company of their own people.
21. On the emperor’s embassy to the Venetians on account of these things.
A For as soon as the emperor learned that these things had happened, he was anxious, lest he be blamed as if he had cooperated in that slaughter with the Genoese; therefore, he chose as ambassadors the monk Maximus Planudes and the director of the orphanage, Leo—men of distinction and prudence, and for this reason considered suitable for properly discharging this embassy—and ordered them to betake themselves to Aquileia, to purge there, before the Venetian senate, their emperor from any suspicion of approval or awareness of the things violently perpetrated by the Genoese. When they arrived there, they were in the greatest danger, as the kin and blood-relatives of those who had been murdered contended to avenge the slaughter of their own by the death of these men. With difficulty, the counsel to spare their lives finally prevailed, through the primary concern of obtaining an exchange with those whom they knew were still held remaining of their own kind in Constantinople. After these were sought out and received, they dismissed the legates without deigning to give any answer regarding the proposal of peace to be confirmed between the empire and the Venetians by a new convention following the old. For they said that they would deliberate about that matter afterward, when they had been satisfied by the emperor concerning certain things which they demanded of him. Yet they did not trouble themselves to send ambassadors in turn to Constantinople to explain these things; but through two envoys returning thence to the same place, they first sorrowfully reproached the emperor and the Romans, because he had permitted—in a manner more savage than their customs and civil institutions could comprehend or bear—that such cruelty be exercised upon them.
A From the splitters came hidden and manifest attacks, and cold thanks were laid before him by many—as if to be at peace, yet not to hold firmly to that peace, but rather to sway and shift as it chanced. B But what happened then? A bundle of letters and a tome, what is called a libel, came into the hands of the Emperor; from where and from whom I do not know, but it carried many accusations. Wishing to overturn this and provide enduring arguments (for the accusations stung him even-handedly), the Emperor did not deem it appropriate for the refutation to be made through writings—lest the dismantling be done word for word—for many reasons. Instead, he decided that, having sat in front, once a public assembly had gathered, he would overturn it by reading each point. And so it happened. And indeed, the high priests were gathered, and the clergy, monks, and people were gathered, and the Emperor, having sat in council together with those in office, [dealt with] each chapter of the tome not ignobly.
22. Concerning the thrown tome in which certain accusations were written, and concerning the defense of the Emperor regarding these things.
C How close to the Emperor's heart were the affairs of the Church, and with what anxious zeal he procured its peace and tranquility, could be understood from many examples scattered throughout this history. D However, the scandals that then troubled the Church, like the hydra mentioned in the fables, sprouted with the prolific offspring of heads springing up one after another; to conquer which, it was absolutely necessary to have a Hercules, one cutting and cauterizing like Iolaus. We had found the Hercules in the Emperor Andronikos: but the Iolaus, who might opportunely cooperate with him, had long been sought, yet was not found. What wonder, then, if he alone, though not sparing his efforts, did not finish the task by cutting—the sword of his concern never being found dull? By the sword, I mean the spirit, that is, a sharp care intent upon every occasion to provide for the laboring Church in any way whatsoever. But why do I complain that a helper was missing for the Augustus doing this, when, which is more shameful, he suffered many who opposed him in it?
I pass over the secret machinations of those divided from the Church against him, and their openly vehement outbursts; I dissimulate the icy thanks of those reconciled to the Church by his aid, of whom not a few, either having used the benefit in bad faith, or not returning effort in due proportion to the merit with a sufficiently grateful mind, were so pacified that they wavered in their peace, ambiguous between both sides, and unstable, prone to any breeze of wind. An imputation I might well cast, regarding one of this kind, of what happened then and which I am now to narrate. A bundle of papers or a tome, or rather, as it is usually called, a famous libel, came into the Emperor's hands—from where or by whom brought, I know not—but it contained many items of accusation. The Emperor, wishing to refute them, and to prove ineluctably through suitable proofs placed in opposition that there was nothing in them except what was vain and calumnious (for there were certain things therein quite stinging to the Augustus himself, and which might wound him not lightly), did not judge it opportune to commit the refutation to writing, to meet each single object in order; he preferred to execute the matter viva voce, and having held the parts of the libel before his eyes, he overturned them one by one after each was read.
And it was carried out in this manner: Bishops, clergy, monks, and the people had gathered into a large assembly. The Emperor, sitting in the midst of the nobles, unwove all the heads of the famous Libel, and diluted each one of them with a victorious defense, showing in reality that gentle persuasion, relying upon the arguments of eloquence, is more effective in its time and is not rarely applied more happily than the imperious force of armed majesty—especially when (as the author of the clandestine writing wished to appear by that very malicious artifice of concealing himself) they fear, those who complain or accuse, that justice and equity—their assertions, that is—might be suppressed by a certain tyrannical force, under the pride of a power that disdains to listen quietly and is prepared to trample proudly.
A And the identity of the writer remained obscure, perhaps because he thought his own insignificance made it best for him to shun the light—where he would have been exposed to ridicule—or else, as I have judged, it was the cleverness of the artisan to affect this show of timidity, which might cast suspicion upon those in power of an unjust arrogance that deters subjects from the free expression of truth with threats and haughtiness. Against this, the Emperor very wisely, setting aside for the moment the terror of his majesty and, as it were, stepping down from his throne to the level plain, vanquished the calumny with the arms of pure reason, with the eloquence of a private defense removing every sinister opinion from the minds of his listeners, and fully repairing whatever damage that slanderous writing might have inflicted upon his reputation.
B 23. Regarding the accusation raised against the Bishop of Philadelphia.
The Emperor had not used such a strategy now for the first time. Earlier, while Athanasius was holding the patriarchate, another head of scandal arising in a similar way was, with equal wisdom, lopped off by a timely address, in which he had prudently spoken to the assembly, with which, just as one might soften a maliciously swelling tumor on a sick body with soothing incantations, he soothed it, lest by delay and neglect it might erupt into a pernicious ulcer. For it is the mark of a skilled physician, just as he does not refrain from the knife and surgery for a swelling that is burning fiercely and stretched tight, so, when the pain has subsided and the hardness, with the swelling relaxed, has begun to soften, so as to give hope that a milder treatment will not be unavailing, he indulges in milder medicaments, such as ointments and poultices, by the benign aid of which is averted the dire necessity of forcing an outlet by cauterization and bloody surgery for that which is boiling within, and which, if not drawn out, would corrupt the limb with putrid matter. It is fitting here to recount this example of prudent moderation, displayed by our sovereign at that time, passing over the chronology of the past, if it is less pertinent in the order of events to this place in the history, yet in the nature and similarity of the argument it is not entirely alien to it.
For when an urgent need had arisen for the Emperor to send a letter to the Sultan of Babylon, even though the ancient custom—approved by the examples of preceding Augusti, even the most pious ones—demanded the usual formula for such letters, in which the title of "brother" was placed in the address, his own somewhat more delicate religious scruples held him back, for he feared that it might seem an unworthy and impious thing in the eyes of the law for an enemy of the Cross to be hailed as "brother" by a Christian emperor. This scruple burned in his mind with a sharper point: because he was, as it were, more deeply stung by the keen memory that he had recently, on an occasion no less urgent, omitted the writing of letters to the Pope, for the sole reason that he might be forced to prefix the title of "Father" to the letter—which he could not bring his mind to do, namely to deem him worthy of the title of "Father" whom he considered to be the companion of some error. From the prejudice of this action, the consequence for the resolution of the present doubt was easy, especially since it seemed much more inappropriate for an individual who was not only faithless, but a manifest enemy of Christ, to be called "brother" by a Christian emperor, than for the Roman Pontiff to be called "Father" by the same. Therefore, being unable to command that inner stomach of his own somewhat fastidious religion, so as to endure or hope to stomach such an absurd indecency, he laid this very inner turmoil of his soul before the bishops who were present, entreating that if they had anything readily at hand to soothe this bite of conscience, they should not hesitate to bring it forward. C When, in response to this invitation, a discussion was stirred up for the Emperor regarding the Sultan of Babylon, for he was momentarily cautious about how he should write to the enemy of the Cross as a "brother." And the matter seemed quite inappropriate, even if it had been customary from the beginning for those who ruled piously. D Such, then, was the man who was so cautious regarding these things (for it was no small pain for him, who did not consider the Pope worthy to be called "Father" for the alleged reason that he had erred, to rank as brothers not just an infidel, [P. 168] but even an enemy of Christ), that he shared his dilemma with some of the bishops who were present, and sought a remedy for his conscience. And one was saying one thing, and another was improvising something else for the remedy of his conscience. The Theoleptus of Philadelphia, however, wishing to heal the Emperor's conscience, tried to show that the thing was permissible from the Scriptures. "And what," he says, "is so terrible in this, if even the demons—not to mention all men—are referred to as brothers by Christians?" He said that the necessity should be overcome by wisdom. "But where is this written?" "‘The sons of my mother have fought against me,’ says the woman in the Song," he says. "But as for the sons..."
of the Church of Christ, Nyssenus explains that the Emperor, as one might expect, extends the discourse and suggests that the demons—insofar as they arise, I think, from the same one cause (which is the goodness of God, the beginning of existence for all those things which did not exist)—like men, are brought forth from the same Father and Creator." This, perhaps, was spoken by the speaker in a casual manner, but it grew from likely causes into a significant matter, sufficient to be an occasion for scandal.
For Nicetas of Dyrrachium, having heard this discourse, deemed it entirely intolerable to pious ears that men, who are subjects of Christ and adopted children of God through baptism, should be called brothers of the demons who are opposed to God. Therefore, he could not endure to behold the speaker with genuine eyes, but spoke of the discourse to many and adjudged it no slight blasphemy. This moved many to scoff, and they turned away from the discourse as if it were a matter of venom and vipers; but he had also A heard other things, and by various things that each person alleged for himself on the spur of the moment, they sought to dull the sting by which the conscience of the Prince, which was almost too tender and superstitious, was being deeply pricked. The Philadelphian Theoleptus thought that he had found a prize argument from the sacred oracles by which he could prove that this formula of speaking and writing was lawful and should not be subject to any censure. His argument, while he attempted to construct this from the canonical Scriptures, was roughly as follows:
"For what great sin is there in calling the Sultan of Babylon a brother, if we learn from the Holy Spirit, who dictated the sacred books, that not only are all men bound to the evil demons themselves by a certain fraternal necessity, but even Christians? Let reason, therefore, overcome idle fear; and since the matter demands that the Sultan be addressed by letter, and it is fitting that the address of these letters be such as has been shaped by the examples of pious princes of old and by continuous usage until now, let us take care that what must necessarily be done appears to be done willingly. Otherwise, it would not have the grace of merit, as it would appear to have been exacted by force and extracted from the unwilling. The passage of Scripture on which I rely when I say this is here. The Bride in the Song says: ‘The sons of my mother have fought against me.’ There, Nyssenus teaches that the Bride who speaks thus is the Church of Christ. She complains that she is fought against by the sons of her mother, that is, according to the same interpreter, by the evil demons, who are called the sons of her [the Church’s] mother, because both the Church and the demons arose from the same cause and principle, namely, the divine goodness that is the creator of all things, through whose fruitful beneficence all things were drawn out from nothing into existence. This goodness—it is the same—begat all good and evil angels or men alike through the one Father and Creator of all."
Perhaps the Philadelphian cast these things into the midst without sufficient premeditation; these words were immediately seen to have provided an occasion for grave scandal and envy against him. For B when Nicetas of Dyrrachium heard this, he did not consider the discourse to be fit for pious ears, by which men, who are the subjects of Christ and adopted as brothers to God by baptism, should be called brothers to the demons who are rebels against God. Therefore, he could not endure to view the man who had spoken thus with impartial eyes; but, having rejected the impious mention (as he thought it) with many words, he branded him with no small mark of blasphemy by his own judgment. Not a few, led by the authority of Nicetas, attacked Theoleptus with bitter mockery, and they abhorred his opinion no less moderately than if it were a pestilence or viperous poison.
However, the Augustus, who had personally listened fully to the contrary discourses of both men, when he later learned that a rumor was growing among the people against the Philadelphian, took it ill, as was fitting, that trouble had arisen over and above so many other offenses; and, pitying the public lot—because not only were those who had broken away into schism contending with those who persevered in the unity of the Church, but these men also were engaging in mutual quarrels and mockery—he convened a synod and discussed the conflict that had arisen between the Dyrrachian and the Philadelphian. He interpreted the words of the latter in an accommodating sense, removing every suspicion of unsound doctrine or reprehensible novelty from him, and indeed, rooting it out from the minds of many where it had already become ingrained. And he, being carried away by the zeal with which he rushed toward the extinction of the envy rashly kindled against Theoleptus, could easily have been incited into a counter-attack against his accuser, Nicetas—who had been the one to apply the torch and thus cause the fire—had not the shame of a man venerable for his great gravity and religion restrained him from that attempt, and the fact that he had not fallen into this error so much through any malice as through a certain imprudence of zeal; and furthermore, the fear that, just as he had dreaded the public offense that had arisen from the indictment of the Philadelphian, so, too, such a great and significant [offense], no less dangerous or harmful, would follow from an attack on the Dyrrachian.
C 24. Concerning the hidden papers and how they were found.
A heavy heat of anxious religion D thence entered...
A strongly stirred the spirit of Patriarch John, for the occasion which I shall now relate. Certain men from his household—young boys—in the month of September, in their desire to catch dove chicks in their nests, as that age is wont to do, were searching the catechumena. They were in the upper part of the great church, on the left for those entering, a place riddled with holes yawning here and there through the walls, and on that account opportune for the boys who were vacant from more urgent tasks to engage in the playful fowling of these birds; for there, without the elaborate equipment of hunting gear, of nets, or of reeds smeared with birdlime, they could seize the still-featherless chicks from their native nests with their bare hands right up close. B While they were intensely intent upon this pursuit and were searching all the holes in that place, one of them noticed a cavity above a higher column, and having climbed up to it, he found and took the chicks, just as he had wished. But the same boy, having looked further and seeing something hidden I know not where, drew out with his hand two clay vessels fitted together. Then, with a boy's curiosity, investigating what might be hidden there, he read the papers he had found and showed them to his companions. These were the ones we spoke of, which Athanasius—while he was meditating the abdication of the patriarchate—had hidden in such a place; seeing them, the boys felt a certain shudder, for they saw at once those fearful threats of dire anathemas that had been written upon them, and being in doubt as to what they should do, they agreed that all these things should be carried to the patriarch just as they were. C And when the matter had been told to him as it happened, they presented the earthen vessels with the papers enclosed. The patriarch having taken these into his hands and read them through attentively, having clearly understood the whole affair, decided to report it to the emperor, against whom he assumed those bolts of horrible imprecations had been especially aimed and twisted. Having sent his brother Methodius to him, he asked that he not be troubled to come to him, since he himself was prohibited from going to the palace for the moment by an insuperable obstacle, but that he had matters which must be discussed with his Majesty face to face and at once, namely, that they might see as soon as possible by what means they could manage to free themselves from the dire bonds of the horrendous anathemas, by which they had until now been unaware they were held fast. D This had now been revealed to them by the sign of the dove, which, with a message far different from the augury of the receding flood celebrated in the Holy Scriptures, did not announce peace and blessing as that one had, but rather, protruding from the top of the column, announced the expiatory knots of terrible excommunications, and did so in such a way—which was the worst part—that it simultaneously taught him that the one who had woven and stretched these atrocious snares had been patriarch when he did it, that is, he had possessed the unquestionable power of binding; but now he lived in private life, and held the key no longer by which he could open the prison into which he had previously cast others. Since these things were so, there was need for sharp deliberation, which might maturely investigate the paths for extricating themselves from the perplexity of the lethal and throat-tightening knots, in whose nets one who weighed the gravity of the urgent danger, or rather the destruction of present ruin, by that balance of Christian prudence with which everyone ought to prioritize the state of his soul and the accounts of eternal salvation, could not bear to remain entangled even for a moment. Having heard these things, the emperor was not a little disturbed and hurried to the patriarch; and having read the papers, and having learned where and by what chance they had been found, he inquired with an anxious and uncertain mind what path he should take to explain himself out of these straits. For to have recourse to the expatriarch and now mere monk Athanasius, so that he might loosen what he himself had knotted while he was in his dignity, besides being otherwise ill-timed, seemed also useless and vain, the power to do so being now deficient in him. Summoned, therefore, by the order of the Augustus, rapidly
A there gathers with them the patriarch of Alexandria, and there gathers also John of Ephesus, who held his honor in such a sluggish manner. There were present also as many of the high priests as happened to be in the city, and they examined the matter by common deliberation. They all condemned the act in common, and they held the one who had done the deed in ugly suspicion; for it was nothing else but that he sought to procure the honor for himself again, and that too, inevitably, by binding those whom he ought not to have bound. For a time, however, it seemed to some that they ought to ask him to grant absolution, while to others it seemed impossible and otherwise discordant to ask for such a thing, since, being a private individual and stripped of the priesthood, he was undoing what could not be undone; for the very thought of the deed belonged to him who had performed it. For these reasons it seemed to others, and especially to those who were more rigorous, that they should not ask for any absolution at all, but rather deliberate how they might bring these dread deeds into the light, and compel him to a defense before all the Romans, as to what canons he followed in excommunicating Christian men who knew nothing of the matter, and thus to lead him B to judge his own action. Concerning which, it having been condemned by him and also by others, as being already entirely condemned in the canons of the Church, one should not seek any other absolution. For those things which are justly bound and by the canons, those also must necessarily be loosed, but those things which are null from the beginning are a superfluous labor to seek to have loosed. But if, however, there be a patriarch and a synod worthy of trust for a just absolution according to the canons, he himself, having been brought under a just charge, ought rather to be canonically held accountable. For what reason is there in a man clearing himself, while suspected of the worst things, by oaths and curses against himself, if even this were sufficient for the complete avoidance of accusations? For it is not by swearing, but by clearing away the accusation through trustworthy proofs that it is reasonable. But as for casting those who had informed or who had been carried away into subjection to curses, where is that just, or altogether canonical, and according to the laws of the Church? But the Emperor, doing something more wisely, as it seemed, and always choosing things that make for peace, counseled them to send and ask Athanasius, and to hear C what he might answer; and since he could allege nothing but what was frivolous, he would soon be easily refuted and convicted, and would be rightly condemned to admit in a public assembly of the Romans that he had acted wrongly and beyond what he ought or could have done when he wrote those things. Hence, all concluded that what he himself, who had performed the act, openly confessed he had attempted against the divine law and without legitimate authority was, in plain terms, useless and of no force. Whence it would be apparent to all that there is no need for any absolution, since only those things which are duly and by canonical authority bound stand in need of canonical absolution. If it is established that anything is condemned contrary to the canons and was void and of no effect from the start, it is a superfluous labor to seek how such things might be loosed. Nay, even if it were imagined that some danger existed lest an excommunication thus launched might be valid and truly bind, not even then would there be need to have recourse to him who had inflicted it, since when a patriarch sins against the canons, the synod possesses power over the patriarch, to which, therefore, the full right belongs both to absolve from censures rashly inflicted by him, and also to judge him canonically for that very same act and subject him to deserved punishments. Nor can Athanasius be helped in the case at hand to clear himself of the very worst suspicions—the cause of which he himself provides—by the fact that he denies himself to be free from all crime, while praying on his own head things that are horrible if he is deceiving; for it is not by oaths and imprecations of such a kind, but by fitting arguments and testimonies that accusations brought are to be purged according to the received and reasonable custom. Indeed, it is of a much worse example, and one intolerably deviating from the sacred rules and laws of the Church, that which this Athanasius has done, by saying that he subjects to the dire punishments of anathemas—which are to be turned only against those who are knowingly sinning and are perversely contumacious—even those who have been snatched away by the seduction of another and who have fallen through im- D
to inquire whether he himself would act, and how he would act, and whether he would persist in these things again. A Therefore, those who had decided on the mission—the one in charge of the inkstand, Chumnos, and the chartophylax Cyprian—were chosen, and they, having met with him, delivered the message from the Emperor and the Synod, as was proper. He immediately confessed that he had indeed written them, and that he had done so out of faint-heartedness at that time, but that he did not hold them as unrepealable, but was ready to repeal them again at once. "Although," he said, "it was not possible to retrieve the documents from there, because the disturbance had broken out." That is what he said, but it was suspected that he was saying things that were not true. For those who were testing him said that he ought to have produced them and asked for forgiveness, if uprightness had truly followed the facts, and not crafty and deceitful depth, as if having set in store terrible and dread things for a proper occasion he was asking to repeal them—having accepted the office he had resigned, but with the intent, if not for these things, [of whether] he might have been brought back into the Church again because of the Emperor’s utmost reverence for divine matters, had he not been... B and he was prepared to inscribe in faithful writing the matters of his apology, as was also required of him. Having taken paper, he wrote with his own hand most of the following: "It happened to me, while I was exercising the patriarchate, to fall into many temptations, and for this reason, stirred by the pain and bitterness that had taken hold of me, I issued letters carrying the burden of excommunication and of other penalties against those who had afflicted and grieved me. But none of those who were punished by them ever became aware of the aforementioned letters, nor of the penalties contained in them. Then, those letters were deposited in an obscure and altogether unknown place in the great temple of the Holy Wisdom of God, and they remained guarded in that very place. But I, since I wished to withdraw from the throne and make a resignation of the entire patriarchal authority, and to live in quiet again by myself as before, immediately removed the entire burden of what was written there from my own soul, and disregarded it, granting..."
A a pure forgiveness to all who were under censure. Yet, because I had neglected to take back and destroy such documents, they were neither received nor destroyed by me; accordingly, they have now been found and handed over to the hands of my most powerful lord and autocrat the emperor. When, therefore, he questioned us concerning these very documents, we informed him of nothing other than the truth: namely, that we had not changed our mind just now, but had done so B even previously, from the very moment we wished to withdraw from the patriarchal throne; at once we abandoned all enmity towards everyone, having no vengeance, whether manifest or hidden, against anyone, and having immediately from that time onwards dissolved and disregarded the aforementioned excommunications and other censures. And these things were so in truth. But in order that there might never be an occasion or pretext for any of those who attempt to disturb the holy Church of God and wish to disorder her—though they do so entirely wickedly and unjustly, and in any case in league with the evil seeker of scandals—for this reason we have C set forth the present document before God Himself against those mentioned earlier, as we have said. Through it, we once again not only grant full forgiveness to all who, as has been said, were once subjected by us while acting as patriarch to censures by word or by any of our written documents—whether those now published or any others that might potentially be published in the future—but we also confirm our peace and godly love with all of them, holding against no one at all—as if D we were still affected by the injured spirit—any hatred, wrath, or bitterness, nor preserving in the recesses of our mind any design of either severe or light vengeance. And should anyone, wishing to use these documents written by us as a pretext for disturbances against any of those in communion with the Church, bring them forward and in reality produce them as a source of trouble, such a person we declare to be accursed and liable to account for this action, as one who, following his own malice, attributes to us not the truth, but a thoroughly false intention. In the month of September, in the eleventh indiction. There was also appended to these letters this subscription: “Athanasius the sinner, who was patriarch of Constantinople of New Rome.” From this latest text of Athanasius, those who observed his affairs with critical eyes [saw that] it was no more valid than any of the previously mentioned ones regarding the depravity of...
A those who, allegedly wronged, were storing up enmity or anger or [a sense of] weight, whatever it might be, and were choosing to resolve and dissipate it with letters. And if anyone should ever desire to bring forward these said letters, which bear no weight, or other documents of ours, as a pretext for causing confusion among some of those in communion with the Church, and should bring them forward to cause trouble, we desire that such a person be held accountable and not be exempt; for he would be fulfilling his own wickedness, while we would be presenting a reason that is not true, but entirely false. In the month of September, Indiction 11. There was also this subscription to the letters: "Athanasius, a sinner, who served as Patriarch of Constantinople, New Rome."
To Athanasius, therefore, this cause falling upon him was no less than any other, and it seemed to those observing his affairs to be of even greater weight than he himself—judging from the fact that he himself admitted what is fitting for Christians: that neither the commandment of God nor His laws and precepts, nor even a soul that had any fear of God and consideration of retribution, would ever render evil for evil. If, however, he desired to judge that these things were a greater evil than excommunication from Christ because of certain pretexts, let him judge. For the moment, however, in his admission, insofar as it appeared, he was at least B necessary and secure, as he would repent not at some later time, but immediately regarding these things.
XXV. Regarding John Tarchaniota, and how he was sent as general to the East.
For the Emperor, there was again no small anxiety, with the Tochari on one side—as many as were settled in the northern regions—disturbing things; and on the other side, the Triballi, who were using Cotanitza. The latter, having deserted from there and attached himself to the King of Serbia, was raiding the borderlands in the manner of a brigand. Furthermore, there was also the state of the East, which was not faring well due to that previous confusion. For these reasons, the Emperor, desiring an earnest and capable man as general—one who was at once prudent in such matters and also related to him by blood—overlooked John’s petty obsession regarding the schism. He reasoned that John himself would do no damage by being schismatic, but would rather benefit the common good through his good judgment and his diligence in deeds, if he were employed. He immediately ceased reproaching him for his dissension with the Church and, keeping his intentions as they were, took him on, provided him with a few funds and troops, and sent him off to the East. C He, having accepted the command, showed all care both in
restoring those miserably afflicted territories and in endearing himself to the Emperor through his economic management and administration of the state's affairs. For since the majority of the soldiers, often finding favorable opportunities, had neglected their own duties and were sluggish because they had to obtain favors from their leaders through gifts and amenities, while others—often even those more worthy—had fallen into need because of the lack of proper management and, choosing to avoid campaigning, were a hindrance, and there was damage to the common wealth from both sides, and this inequality required balancing—he himself, full of great confidence, thinking that because of his own faithful and pure intention in acting toward the Emperor nothing of the things that might cause an obstacle should stand in his way, decided to transfer the most abundant resources to the common pool and thus to balance both the impulses of the men and the affairs themselves. From this, he raised a larger army and prepared ships, and he was managing the dual operations, here by land and there by sea, and he was well-spoken of as he acted, and he was acceptable to the Emperor, even if the Patriarch John found his strategy, on account of the B greatest indignation, a frequent subject of reproach to the Emperor, if indeed a man managed his strategy who not only did not know how to honor the Church but even washed her with frequent insults. But the Emperor, having been captivated by the service he received from him, as the frequent proofs of loyalty showed, and giving more weight to reason than to anger because of the report from the Patriarch, would not allow anything to be carried out against him by those who spoke against him; rather, he accepted the reminders with even greater aversion, judging the stability in the matters being handled [(P. 176)] to be more kingly than the fluctuations and instability at the suggestions made. Nevertheless, after a time, as it is fitting to say immediately, some of those who had been deprived of the majority of their income attacked him, using as a pretext their loyalty to the Emperor, but no less wishing to defend themselves, being pained by that of which they had been deprived. And having approached Theoleptos of Philadelphia, they said that John had broken his promises to the Emperor, and that it was clear, from the very things he was doing, that he was beginning to cast the die of revolt. Saying these things, they were persuasive, and more so were they driven by the hatred against him, judging that this was a matter in which it was more appropriate for the Emperor to persist with royal constancy in what had once been begun, than to waver through the unstable and erratic levity of those who now said one thing and now another. But he was at one point endangered by his attackers; and although this happened some time after the period in which we are currently narrating, I shall take the opportunity to relate it here on account of the connection of the subject matter. A faction of those soldiers whom, as has been said, he had penalized by taking away a portion of the superfluous wealth with which he might help the other needy ones, was formed against him. While pretending to be moved by a zeal for sincere loyalty to the Emperor, they were in truth stirred by the grief of their diminished money, and were rushing toward the im-
- A placable desire to take revenge for the injuries done to them, however much he was the author of a distribution that was just and publicly beneficial. They approach Theoleptus, the Bishop of Philadelphia, and represent it as manifest from Tarchaniota’s actions that he was meditating defection from the Emperor and carefully preparing everything so that he might soon openly rise up against him. They easily persuaded this prelate, who was already ill-disposed toward Tarchaniota, for he remembered that he had been contumeliously ridiculed and censured by him. Therefore, he too, mixing with the leaders of the sedition, went with them in a hostile attack to Tarchaniota to coerce or apprehend him, as one who was undoubtedly plotting a rebellion. He was at that time in a certain tower, where, warned of the gathering and thinking himself unequal in such a place to withstand so great an attack, he rushed out and fled to the B neighboring monastery of the great martyr George, the one formerly a temple of Zeus, and with its doors locked, he awaited the violence whose fame had been announced. He had been looking down from the heights of the wall, and standing securely against the accusation, he reproached the bishop, judging it lack of sense if, persuaded by such men to do similar things, he had decided to come, even though he knew that [Tarchaniota] had not even a shadow of distrust. For he preserved loyalty to the Emperor all the more, and bore him steadfast favor, but for his part, he would not even pay attention to him as a bishop if, on account of the hostility toward him arising from the cause of the schism—which the Emperor himself knows and condones—he were willing to join in with charges against the Emperor that no longer existed, and to assist in the murders of those attacking [Tarchaniota], which was not at all appropriate given the purity of his conscience. Saying these things, the other also retorted, and carrying the icon of the martyr, he lauded the emperors. And so, the attempt was fruitless for them, but, [P. 177] for those who had been [preoccupied]… C as if he long since, in his own turn, were criticizing him for many things. And they were hastening together toward him (who was then upon the tower). But he, having foreseen the onset of those coming, and knowing that it was based on an evil, pre-fabricated rumor—even if it were false—as they were already meeting him, checked their impulse, and entering the monastery there of the greatest among martyrs, George—the one formerly a holy temple of Zeus—he provided for his own safety. And they, having stood outside when the monastery gates were barred, were zealously weaving the accusations of that place, and I would not say that John had gone further than the commands of the Emperor (the which was to change their military service), if he had not also decided to initiate contempt toward the Emperor. But that was sheer demagoguery; D and from there came their strength in attacking him, and it was a strong shield for them against him, [note: see facsimile for original-script column] while he, seeing the height of the wall, stood securely in the face of the accusation, and remonstrated with the bishop, judging it mental deficiency if he, having been persuaded by such men to do the same, had deigned to arrive as one who had no knowledge of a single shadow of distrust. For he kept his faith to the Emperor all the more and bore him firm goodwill, but toward him [the bishop], from that point on, he would not even pay attention as a bishop, if he desired to link himself with accusations against the Emperor that no longer stood, and if he were willing to cooperate with the attackers in murders that were in no way fitting given the purity of his conscience. Saying these things, that man retorted, and bearing the icon of the martyr, he called down blessings upon the emperors. And thus, the enterprise was thereafter ineffective for them, nor was it by any means safe for them to continue.
Wherefore, abandoning every encumbrance, he fled to the emperor who was tarrying in the populous city of Thessalonica. But these things happened later, at a time when the efforts that had been diligently applied by the commander A for the sake of the success of affairs there were annulled and held as nothing by those sent later, who allowed a great deal of damage to occur. For, since the soldiers’ pay was being held beyond the proper day by those collecting funds in the East, and since the greater part was also missing due to the appropriation of these funds by the leading men, the military operations naturally came to be neglected as a result.
Concerning the Northern Tocharians and Sphentisthlabos.
B Concerning, then, the northern Tocharians—for those in the East held in their regard a prince, or as they themselves would say, a *Kanin* (Cazan, who traced his lineage from Chalau and Apaga)—concerning those, I say, it is worthy to speak from the beginning. C Nogays, then, concerning whom it was spoken of earlier, sent in the beginning by the princes of the tribe—not being the supreme lord himself, but a lieutenant of their forces—was sent with a most numerous army to the region toward the north, so that various tribes, formerly subject to the Romans but later, since the capture of Constantine’s city, having become independent and divided into certain local chieftaincies, might be overrun as if they were deserted, and he, standing over them in their own fear, might conquer them solely by this means and bring into subjection to the Tocharians those who were previously independent. D Thus, no sooner had they begun to rule over so many tribes, and having seen a place populous and a land fertile for all necessities, they made the territories their own and lived by themselves. But when the upper Tocharians, from whom he held his authority, came up and sought the power, he prevailed by his own wisdom and his own following; for the future they were freely independent and they enjoyed the region above the Euxine [Sea] in a princely manner. These things, then, were happening at that time, and Nogays was becoming illustrious through his kinship with the emperor. But since, by the death of many of those to whom, by right of birth, the succession of the empire belonged,
A Tuctais had been left behind, and had already stood over the aged Nogays, and after a fierce incursion had prevailed by force and Nogays had fallen—the events that took place in this area due to the current wars and the confusion, and how the entire country had been laid waste and men destroyed, or on the other hand, how those who were left behind were resettled here, and how whole ship’s complements and cargoes of men had been made, this requires a history of its own and not an ordinary tongue to deliver the report. Meanwhile, Tuctais having survived became lord of the places, and the Tocharic B region came under him, though a few remained with the son of Nogays from Alacca, Tzacas by name, in whom he also had confidence while invading the Bulgarians. For Terteres himself, having fled earlier from the threats of Nogays, had approached the emperor, and was lingering somewhere around Adrianople, with the emperor feigning ignorance of his entreaty, as if he had not sent Nogays himself to him perhaps as a suppliant; but Tza- C -cas, the son of that man, Nogays having been put out of the way, confident in the Bulgarians around him, began to attack, yet not without a pretext, but having the daughter of Terteres as a wife for himself. And he also takes on her brother Osphentisthlabos, and with him he wished to subjugate the Bulgarians. But that man, being poor, having chanced upon D a certain Pantoleon, a man wealthy from trade, noble though he was and having attained to the emperor and a private citizen, because of the daughter of a certain Mancusus, having been created long ago by Euphrosyne, the wife of Nogays, by holy baptism, he marries for the sake of wealth. And having subjugated the wills of the Bulgarians with gifts, and using Tzacas as the lord, he takes hold of Ternovon together with him. A short time in between, and Osphentisthlabos, having found opportunity, being a Bulgarian by his [...] mother (for his father Terteres was from the Comans), but meanwhile appearing to be for the most part more closely allied to the Bulgarians than to Tzacas, attacks his brother-in-law after waiting with treachery, and having given him to secure guards,
A he strangled him, and he cast down Joachim, who was then patriarch, as one long suspected of having betrayed them to the Tochars; and thus, through such great impiety, he became lord of all. And advancing little by little, he gained strength, even if the emperor, having arrived before he had become fully strengthened, when the Bulgarians sent and asked for the son of Mary, from Constantine, to be king, because of the Tocharic power which had already appeared, wishing—as he was—to make him king, sends Michael. But he [Michael], having arrived among the Bulgarians, had no more success than to wander outside of Ternovum and spend a life not far from that of a private citizen, and for the time being, in no way becoming to a kingship. But thus it was for Osphentisthlabus, who even after years exchanged many of his own father Terteres’s palace officials. B For the sebastokrator of the Bulgarians, Radosthlabus, having defected to the emperor and been confirmed by him in the dignity of sebastocracy—being of the first [noblest] family among the Bulgarians (for he was related to Smiltzo and Eltimeres, who was honored with the lordship of Crunus, and was a brother of Terteres)—was previously, and shortly before, the one who ruled the Bulgarians by the will of Noga, having fled from Terteres, even if, after a little while, because of the marriage alliance and Tzacas having been preferred to Osphentisthlabus after Tzacas—the Smiltzo became utterly destitute. C Then, at that time, those sent from Thessalonica by the emperor, [namely] those around Radosthlabus together with the emperor’s grandees, attack the Bulgarians around Eltimeres, who was ruling independently at Crunus; against whom [Eltimeres], having performed valiantly, he blinded the sebastokrator [Radosthlabus] and sent him to the emperor to his own wife, but he sends the Roman grandees to Osphentisthlabus, whom he indeed kept and did not set free before he had exchanged him for [the release of] his father Terteres from the emperor. And thus, at once, Terteres was released from there, and from here the Roman grandees, numbering thirteen, were set free. But not even having received his father back did he [Osphentisthlabus] restore him to royal dignity; but, having confined him in one of the cities under him, as the report has reached us, he prepared him to live quietly in luxuries and alone. And Osphentisthlabus indeed [did] these things, while at a tender age and having been brought up with his mother in Nic D
- æa, where he remained in prison with her until she, by one of the conditions of the aforementioned agreement, was sent away free, while he himself remained as a hostage among the Romans. But afterwards, when Joachim, the Patriarch of Bulgaria, had been sent as an envoy to the emperor on account of some expected marriage alliance to be contracted through the daughter of the great stratopedarch Synadenos, he was restored to his father. But these things [happened] earlier.
A 27. Concerning the marriage alliance with Tuctai the king.
The emperor, however, betrothed his illegitimate daughter, Maria, to Tuctai. Tuctai accepted the engagement, and since the affairs of the Tocarian war were still in a state of flux and the situation regarding Noga was still trailing behind like the tail of a serpent, he—wishing to give himself over to military tasks and not to marriages that might enervate his body—sent Maria back again to the emperor. And she remained there for some years, until he had gained total victory over the Tocarians, so that nothing remained that did not bow down to him. B And at that time he sent [an embassy] to the emperor asking for his spouse, whom the emperor then sent back with the honor fitting her and with a full escort. Nogās had been destroyed, and Tuctai had made the affairs of that man’s dominion his own and held them, having established the treaties more firmly on account of the marriage alliance.
28. Concerning the heavy rain and the events of that time.
Then, on the twenty-ninth of Poseideon, according to which the sun declines from the summer tropic toward the equinoctial, a violent rain fell for a whole day and night, the zenith above us being pressed by clouds, to such an extent that the entire region along the opposite shore was turned into a ravine C as the waters descended in a mass from somewhere above. Trees were carried from the land down into the sea, upon which [trees] some, fleeing the inundations, were inextricably entwined, and were carried along with the trees torn up by their roots, some of them still living, others already D intertwined with the tree branches, having breathed their last. Houses, meanwhile, were swept away, [as were] the labors of the rustic harvesters, the stacks of sheaves on the threshing floors with the grain not yet threshed; and the floors, torn from their foundations, were carried off whole before the impact ceased, until they struck the walls of the city and shattered.
while others simply vanished into the silt. Vines, too, stood on the naked soil as it was swept away from beneath them, struggling ineffectively against the torrents; yet, because the plants flattened under the surge and offered no resistance, the current failed to tear them up and drag them away, but instead flowed straight over them, as they inclined toward the incline. The entirety of Constantine's land became a vast flood, receiving waters from the heavens above and the torrents flowing in from elsewhere. So violent and continuous was the downpour, that it prevented even the sea itself from maintaining its natural azure hue; instead, it appeared as a multi-colored phenomenon, here being seen as red where the streams flowing from the red-sided mountains poured forth, there as white where chalk abounded, elsewhere black, ash-gray, and muddy—everywhere turbid because of the mixture of earth and the movement of the influx, never returning to a state of clarity, [P. 183] but rather dragging all things into that one dominant state of turbidity. B
29. Concerning the death of the Leader of the Lazes, and the death of Veccus.
At this same time, John, the leader of the Lazes—whom we have shown in the preceding account to be the son-in-law of the Emperor Michael, having married his daughter—ended his life, leaving behind two sons. One of these, Alexius, was established in the succession of the paternal principate; his mother, Eudocia, taking the other, the younger son, betook herself to the city to her brother, the Emperor. John Veccus, once a patriarch, also died in the prison at the fortress of Saint Gregory towards the end of the month of Kronios [March], and he was buried there in the cell in a modest tomb. The Emperor was displeased that they had not been able to conclude earlier what had been agreed upon regarding him—namely, that a new colloquy should be initiated with Veccus, in order that, upon hearing his arguments and through the judgment of wise and spiritual men, and not that of common and less learned persons, all his controversies with the Church might be settled, so that he might live in peace, reconciled to it. However, they brought out the Meliteniotes from the same prison and coupled him with Metochites, who was staying in the city; but since it was not possible for them to make peace, as both those around the Emperor and those of the Church demanded, they were locked up in the great palace, where John Tarchaniotes was also later confined. The sovereign received his sister Eudocia, and together with her mother, he deeply mourned this calamity,
holding them for a time, even as he would later restore them to the son, and indeed the affairs of the administration had been entrusted by the father to the boy himself, since the Emperor had granted this.
30. Concerning the Kral of Serbia and Cotanitzas.
A In these circumstances, grave news was brought to the Emperor regarding incursions—on one side by the Kral of Serbia, and on the other by his lieutenants, Cotanitzas and Tornikios, by whom the Roman regions adjacent to those parts were being devastated. For this reason, the Emperor was much preoccupied, and became entirely consumed with the task of curbing the barbarian, now by embassies, now by military expeditions. Indeed, at that time he had sent the great conostaulus, Glabas—that man of God—with a sturdy army against him. But Glabas, though he clashed with him many times, achieved so little that he departed more like a defeated man than a victor, since they would not grant him the opportunity for a decisive battle, but rather, leading a fugitive existence and springing suddenly from ambushes, they performed most of their actions in the manner of brigands. For this reason, the Roman army, gathered in a single camp and always advancing in a square formation, was unable to engage them as they prowled about in small groups or bands through remote and almost inaccessible places. B Wherefore Glabas, residing at Thessalonica, left nothing untried that could usefully be advised for the protection of the Roman borders, but seeing all things go to waste, he despaired of being able to suppress the assaults of the brigands, who, swooping down from safety upon nearby plunder, would retreat laden into their lairs before any report of their incursion or any opportunity to forestall their attacks could be secured in time.
Seeing this, he wrote to the Emperor that he saw no other remedy to apply to this evil than a convention and a treaty with the Kral. Moreover, he asked to consider the present state of the Eastern frontier, devastated by the incursions of the Persians and in need of great reinforcements, which could not be gathered and dispatched there at all without a firm peace concluded with the Serbs. The Emperor, together with those whom he consulted, easily approved the plan; and all agreed that it would be not only good, but the best course of action to follow, if harmony could be established between the Augustus and the Kral under certain conditions, and the security and quiet of the peoples redeemed. C But however prepared the Emperor was to negotiate in good faith—as was so necessary for the public tranquility—a peace with a neighbor and potent foe, he was constrained by fear that he might attempt this in vain, given the notorious instability of the Serb, a man prone to changes and of a fickle levity that turned to the opposite. Therefore, thinking he must bind him to the faith of a constant friendship more securely than by the bonds of ordinary conventions, he judged that the Kral would be a sure ally only if he were bound to him by the tie of a civil obligation of agreements through a matrimonial alliance from his own kin.
For the Kral already had the daughter of Terter, born of the sister of Asan, having taken her as his spouse under secure oaths. He had had another previously, the daughter of the Western sebastocrator, D whose husband, John, was in the Western region. But having later, with equal levity, repudiated her and sent her back to her father, he had superinduced the third, of whom I have spoken, the daughter of Terter, born of the sister of Asan, while that first woman was nonetheless still surviving as his only legitimate spouse; hence
A it was manifest that both these later attempted marriages were nothing other than foul concubinage. But when the emperor was pondering these matters, it happened opportunely that word was brought of the death of that woman who had first married the Kral; when this was verified, it was manifest that he was loosed and free to enter into a new, lawful marriage. Therefore, when the emperor had seen to it that this was communicated to him, and had added that he would join his own sister Eudocia, the widow of John, prince of the Lazes, to him, if he would dismiss the daughter of Terter, to whom he was joined by no legitimate bond, he found him amenable to accepting the proposal of an alliance that was both splendid and useful for himself. For, besides other things, the Kral was urged to seize this condition eagerly by fear of his elder brother, Stephen, to whom, as the firstborn of the deceased Kral, the principality of Serbia was owed, from which he had been excluded—not for a just cause, but because he was lame by a natural defect of the feet. And he, a man slothful by nature, seemed to bear the injury with patience, ruling peacefully over the portion of the paternal domain assigned to him; moreover, he was raising legitimate children, in whom he expected that all of Serbia would one day vest, believing that the sons his brother might beget from the invalid marriages in which he was entangled would have no valid claim to succeed to the paternal power due to the defect of their birth. Considering this, the Kral thought that a precious opportunity was being offered to him of a lawful marriage with the emperor’s own sister, from which he hoped that the offspring would have no exception to overcome to inherit the ancestral patrimony by right, and that for this very purpose he would be aided by the resources of his uncle, the Augustus, against the obstacles of any adversaries whatsoever. Because, however, the emperor had offered his sister in marriage to the Kral only on the condition that he would be willing to hand over to him Cotanitzes, he immediately gave his consent; for why should he hesitate to betray a foreigner, he who would so easily cast off a woman treated as a wife? When, therefore, an agreement had thus been reached between the Kral and the Augustus, the latter communicated the business to his sister Eudocia and earnestly begged her not to be burdened by ratifying an affinity of such common utility. And at first he strove with all his might to remove every scruple from her. For as for the fact that the Kral seemed to have a wife, it was certain that she was a mere concubine, whom he declared himself completely prepared to send far from him. The only woman who had truly been bound to him in marriage was his first wife, upon whose recent death he was clearly loosed from every bond of wedlock and, by the natural law, most fully restored to the right to enter new nuptials, and so he was judged to be without the slightest doubt. Although Eudocia had heard these things and many more to this effect, she replied that she believed the faith once given to a husband must be kept even to his ashes, and that not only to the Kral of Serbia, but also to anyone else, no matter how much greater or more powerful a prince, she would always prefer the shadow and memory of her dead husband, whom she had determined to venerate until death. The points which the emperor alleged concerning the honorableness of those nuptials and the free right of the Kral to celebrate them, far from any disgrace and suspicion, she accepted without complaint as being true; but she held that no such things pertained to her, as she clearly and firmly rejected the condition of any marriage whatsoever following the funeral—of whatsoever kind—of one’s spouse. Let others see to this, if any others possess a heart capable of love for another after one torch has been extinguished. Yet she did not conceal that even if she could induce into her mind the thought of a second nuptial bed, she would have desired for this purpose a prince of more constant affection toward his spouses than he was said to be—the Kral, concerning whom they were treating with her, being now, as he himself voluntarily confessed, in his third
A year of age, and as he was altogether one who practiced unchangeable constancy in his cohabitation, rather than any facility toward alienation. B However, since there was no concern on her part for this transaction, she deemed it superfluous to possess the liberty of speaking freely regarding memoires that were held in disrepute, and kept silent.
31. Concerning the alliance of the Emperor with the Kral of Serbia regarding his daughter.
The Emperor, having despaired of the trial made with his sister, judged the Kral of Serbia to be a match less inglorious than the affinity of his own daughter, and indeed greater than to be held in contempt. For this reason, by adding the time that was lacking to the one found wanting, he made it more worthy for a marriage involving his daughter. This little daughter was indeed very charming, not yet having passed her sixth year, beloved to him, and beloved to an extraordinary degree by her mother. C For this reason, he felt duty-bound to establish this alliance, not so much out of need as out of necessity. Now it was a terrible thing, even to conceive of it, that the trust reposed by the Emperor in those who lived with him might be broken by turning back due to bad faith; for it was necessary that the zeal of one who had failed in his hopes would be dissolved, and that, being provoked, he would feel greater enmity, and would not be successful in greater matters. These things persuaded the Emperor’s mind to act even contrary to what was expected. D And so, he completely won over the Kral through an embassy, having made known the marriage concerning his daughter in place of the Emperor's sister; and henceforth oaths and agreements proceeded upon these terms, and she was called the sovereign Kralina. The only thing remaining to be done was to meet the Emperor at the metropolis of the Thessalians, as had been agreed upon by the ambassadors, and for the Kral to come in this manner, and to send the daughter of Terter to the Emperor, and also to hand over Cotanitzas, and to receive the Emperor’s own child, whom the Romans nicknamed Simonida, and in this way to live with her—except for...
the fact that she was kept in reserve for this purpose. And this indeed came to pass, A by the Emperor’s command, and the wax taper of Simon was called Simonida.
32. Concerning the naming of the princess, how it was omitted, and how the newborn was called Simonida by way of an epithet, carrying the apostle’s name as a safeguard.
It would perhaps not be amiss to relate the cause of this naming. The Emperor had been distressed by the loss of female children before they could even be clearly seen, and this had happened with two or three children. When this young girl was born, and there was terrible fear for her as well, one of the women who was experienced and also respectable suggested a plan, albeit one familiar to many, by which the offspring might be saved. The plan was to set up images of the twelve leading apostles, with wax tapers of equal length and weight fixed beside each, and to light them all, and for those present to pray and chant for the newborn, keeping up their prayer until the very consumption of the wax by the fire. And the name of that apostle whose candle remained [P 188] B after the others had vanished was to be given to the newborn. This, then, also was done by the Emperor’s command, and when the taper of the holy apostle Simon was the last to finish burning, the girl was thence named Simonida; and it came to pass, as the prayers were fulfilled, that the child, having escaped the infantile weaknesses through the intercession of the patron saint, successfully advanced to a happy girlhood.
33. Concerning the great winter.
At that time there also set in a winter, the greatest of winters, and one of such extraordinary magnitude that it had never been seen by those who were already growing old. For so much snow had piled up that the exits of low-lying houses were blocked, and by using certain marks and poles, some—by guessing, others by using instruments—opened the dwellings for those who were shut in. For many days no one could see or tread upon the ground, but until near spring, travelers walked upon the compacted snow, which had become as hard as earth; and it was useless to ride on horseback, except to risk slipping all the more. These things, indeed, hindered the Emperor’s expedition to Thessalonica.
Book Four
A 1. The departure of the Emperor for Thessalonica. 2. Concerning the arrival of the patriarch at Selybria.
When the month of Lenaion [February] had set in, the earth being hardened by snow and the ice formed from it—to such a degree that even the flow of the ever-streaming rivers was held back by the freezing of the water in their depths, on account of which the earth, contracting with the cold, destroyed what had grown, and the sown crops were altogether ruined—late on the evening of Preparation Day [Friday], when torches were being lit for the ancient custom of the commemoration of the dead, the Emperor departed the city and stayed at Dripea for some days. He stayed his onward journey for a time, granting the Augusta time to prepare for the departure, and granting the Emperor Michael together with his wife time to prepare for the journey at their leisure, and also giving time to those in charge of the prisoner, his brother, so that after he had decided that he too should be led away, they might devise a way to remove him safely. And such were his intentions.
Now John, who was patriarch at that time, since the matters concerning the Emperor were not so obscure that it was likely he did not know of them—even if the Emperor held it of secondary importance to make these things known to the patriarch, no less than the sands of the sea, as the saying goes—set out as if supposedly to deliver his farewells to the Emperor, wishing to be the first to stir up the matters regarding this affair. For the Emperor, since many things appearing to stand in the way of the transaction—both the fact that the Kral was bound by terrible oaths to Terter’s daughter, and that he seemed to be legally joined to her, and the youthfulness of the girl, and the fact that the Serbian had encountered his brother Stephen’s sister-in-law, or rather the Emperor’s own, the daughter of the King of Hungary, stopping in the regions of Serbia on business, and had known her profligately though she was wearing the monastic habit—these things, taken together, appeared sufficient to stand in the way of the act.
B The Emperor, therefore, on account of these things, while at once soothing many matters, and at the same time calculating that if the Kral should break his word regarding the terms agreed between him and Terter, nothing...
C ...but the daughter of Simonis with the Prince of Serbia was for many reasons inconvenient. First, because it was required of the Kral that he deliver the sister of Terter to the Emperor, it did not seem possible for this to be done by him without the terrible crime of perjury, since it was sufficiently well known that he had given his faith to this woman with horrific oaths. Nor indeed was it held to be sufficiently explored whether the marriage with that woman was null, which the mother of the Kral affirmed she knew to have been lawfully contracted. In addition to this, the young girl who would be substituted for this woman seemed altogether unseasonable for marriage at six years of age. Finally, such things were spread in the discourse of men concerning the portentous debaucheries of the Serb, which should deter the Emperor from bestowing his own daughter upon him; and that a man of such profligate morals, that he was said to have wickedly committed adultery with his own sister-in-law, the wife of his elder brother Stephen and the same sister of the deceased Augusta, the mother of the younger Augustus (for both were daughters of the King of Hungary), and furthermore, that he had not hesitated, when the third of these sisters came to Serbia for the sake of visiting her sister, even though she was professing religion in the garb of a nun, to trample upon both human and divine laws and to pollute with fornication—execrable on so many accounts—a kinswoman, a guest, one born of a king, and a virgin consecrated to God. D When the patriarch had learned these things from others, and also from the mother of the Kral herself—who, conscious, as she said, of the obstacles insurmountably standing in the way of the newly conceived marriage, had come to him of her own accord, having been begged so that he might attempt to abolish with all his might the arrangements being made in this regard—he was moved. None of these things were hidden from the Emperor; nevertheless, the same man, yielding to the political reasons which I have indicated, thought that he must persist in his plan; and because he was not ignorant that the patriarch would attempt to recall him from his undertaking,
he refrained from sharing the action with the patriarch and proceeded with all speed to secure the agreement. The patriarch, on the other hand, feeling insulted and perhaps disdained in such matters—where his opinion was needed all the more—and believing that he had something worthy to say to show that he himself was not ignorant of such things, considering also that he had released the mother of the King (Kral) from the charges which had previously been held against her upon the affair of Terteres, seemed to himself to speak reasonably. Since the Emperor knew that the patriarch held this view, he urged him on to Selybria, while he himself remained at Dripea. When the first week of the fast had arrived, the patriarch, having reached Selybria and waiting for the Emperor, remained quiet for the time being. The Emperor, however, moved slowly and, having approached by degrees, arrived at Selybria on the evening of Saturday. The day following that one, which was the Sunday of Orthodoxy, having come round—and since at that time, following the custom of the sacred liturgy which was celebrated in the afternoon, the Emperor went to the temple located there at the Monastery of the Savior—the patriarch found the opportunity to speak with him, though it was but little. B There was no opportunity at that time, however, for the patriarch to report to him those matters which he wished at his leisure to address, of which there were two most important ones: matters upon which he had been eager to report further. The first was regarding John Tarchaneiotes (for he was still, as he had been sent, governing the regions of the East), as it was neither right nor reasonable that a man who was separated from the Church—and who, together with others, was persistently reviling the patriarch himself with insults—should hold the greatest dignities of command and behave with such insolence toward the multitude, and especially toward the archbishops of those regions, as he was wont to say. The second was regarding the agreement; for there were many obstacles for him [the patriarch], which he felt should be submitted for consideration so that what appeared secure, out of reverence for the laws, might be carried out. These matters being the patriarch’s aim, once the sacred rite was concluded and the Emperor was already preparing to depart, he spoke to the patriarch about a few small matters; and the patriarch, as if cutting short his words, asked him for a blessing and took his leave. The patriarch, being moved by the occasion...
and the matters at hand, felt compelled to depart A for the time being, bestowing his blessing upon the emperor for the duties that the occasion urgently demanded.
But the emperor, having in contradiction to all expectations of what was anticipated been rebuffed, began to be uneasy. He threatened not to turn back, both on account of John, who was thus holding office, and on account of current affairs. For as he heard that his overtures concerning these matters were being met with obstacles, he was distressed with nothing more than the fact that, because the time for the necessary conversations was being cut short, he was unable to obtain them (I know not whether the emperor acted thus on purpose, not opening the door of freedom of speech to one wishing to meet with him, since it was not his way to change his mind).
They took to the road, and though he thus sent off the emperor with a blessing, the patriarch had decided to remain there B until the emperor should return—suffering bitterly, yet silently bearing the pain. Even if the emperor, upon his arrival at Thessalonica, as the holy days of Easter approached, [P 495] sought a pretext for that holy man to partake of the gifts—if the patriarch allowed it—by sending to Selybria and adding the customary coins for the charitable hospice, which the emperor himself always used to give secretly, while the total, amounting to a thousand per year, was registered to the patriarch; then, therefore, by sending these things, he smoothed over matters with words and brought joy by the appropriate means.
But the patriarch, still waiting in Selybria, did not depart from there until, suffering terribly from his eyes, he crossed over from there for the need of physicians, moving to the monastery of Cosmidion in the month of Maemacterion. However, in the month of Anthesterion, as seven long ships sailed in for trade, and a rumor spread that a fleet of ships was also coming up for war, fearing this, he entered the city of Constantine and took up residence in the monastery of the Pammakaristos, where he remained for a short time in idleness, then, being deemed worthy by the clergy and the C hierarchs...
he opened the doors to those who wished to approach him, whether for the sake of judgment or for any other administration befitting a patriarch.
3. How the Emperor acted while staying in Thessalonica.
The Emperor, while staying in Thessalonica—the first time he had ever seen that city—sent men to greet his own cousin Anna, as she herself had requested, and she strove to merit the Emperor’s benevolence with whatever services she could. He also sent to the sebastocrators (for they were still among the living), demanding back Demetrias, which the protovestiarius had previously occupied, rebuilt, and rendered subject to the Emperor. The Emperor had previously yielded this to them for the sake of his sister-in-law Theophano, while her marriage to one of the sebastocrators was being negotiated. But since that marriage had been cut short by the premature death of the bride, who B died in Thessalonica before the day of the wedding, the Emperor was demanding back that city as rightfully his, having sent emissaries to press the point. The sebastocrators, however, fended off his petition with their customary arts—not by refusing outright (for they feared the force of the Emperor’s proximity), but by weaving delays through prevarication, though the Emperor was not entirely ignorant that he was being deceived and that the family was giving him the usual runaround. Yet he endured it with patience, conscious that he had undertaken this expedition to the West primarily for another reason, and thinking he ought not to expend too much effort on these secondary matters, so long as the principal business—which was the alliance and kinship with the Serbian ruler—resulted properly. C It was in this, therefore, that he was most heavily invested. Having sent men to press the Serbian ruler (the Kral), he extracted from him, in accordance with their agreements, that he should surrender both Cotanitzas and the woman he had until then kept in the place of a wife, and that in her stead he should receive the Emperor’s young daughter as his lawful wife.
4. Regarding the hostages given on both sides for the sake of the kinship.
But the Kral did not relax these matters without a pledge. Fearing that if he hastened to give what was demanded he might be circumvented by ill-considered credulity—denied later what he had been promised in return, or else casting himself into snares from which he could struggle only with difficulty—he replied that the guarantee of their mutual promises must be confirmed by the reciprocal delivery of hostages; for in this way the affair would proceed on both sides with greater security. Furthermore, a great desire held the man to be joined in certain marriage to the Emperor’s daughter, D as he understood how much honor and advantage would accrue to him from it. Hence, he was pierced by restless anxiety, dreading that this hope might perhaps turn out to be vain, and that the Romans, being prepared to backslide and frustrate him, might at the same time seize what they themselves had coveted. For this reason, the Emperor agreed to the Kral’s request—as he in turn offered the same—for mutual hostages to ensure the faithful keeping of the agreements. Soon, after the exchange of the hostages sent from both sides had been duly celebrated in the middle of the Bardarios River, the matter proceeded without delay to its outcome. The Serbian ruler surrendered Cotanitzas and the daughter of Terter, and in exchange received the Emperor’s own daughter, adorned with royal finery and conducted by a splendid retinue. Immediately thereafter, once the ecclesiastical blessing had been duly bestowed upon the couple by Macarius of Achrida, she was treated with the highest honors. For the Kral did not treat her as...
a mere wife, but as the daughter of the Emperor; indeed, he could not bear to greet her while mounted on his horse, as was the custom at the time. Instead, at the very first sight of her, he dismounted and, in a gesture of profound veneration, approached her with humility, deeming it proper to render the honor due to the Emperor’s offspring—however much she was his spouse—and considering the splendor of her imperial birth rather than the condition of a wife, who, by reason of her station, would rightfully be subject to her husband. A
5. How the Emperor received the Kral of Serbia.
Then the Emperor, while in the city of Thessalonica, received him splendidly, honoring him with gifts and every demonstration of goodwill for several days, and he rewarded his nobles in a kingly manner with greater gifts. Later, he sent him back with a vast sum of money, having poured out his largesse upon him, for his brother Stephen had been stirred to action—for he too began to suspect his own precarious position, anticipating that his brother would soon be more formidable than he had been before, as might be expected—and for this reason, the Emperor, sending allied forces, sought to shatter the impulses of Stephen as best he could. B
At that time, the Venetians also sent an embassy from nearby to the Emperor, seeking to renew peace with the Romans. The Emperor was indeed willing to receive them, but a dispute over the pledges, which the Emperor had previously confiscated from the Venetians on account of the arson at Galata, stood between them. For the Venetians demanded their return and wished to receive them in that manner, while the Emperor disregarded this, maintaining his right to the confiscated items. Now, the Venetians, being eager for peace with the Emperor, were willing to yield a great portion of these pledges if the Emperor would consent to make a treaty on such terms. The Emperor was already inclined with good will [p. 198] to yield even there and thus establish peace, had not the will of certain men of his circle intervened—for the fact that the Venetians had fallen into a bad state of affairs offered these men the hope that, even by receiving nothing of the pledges, they would be content with the [terms of the] treaty. This prevented the advancement of the peace. And so, not accepting the making of the treaty on those terms, they returned empty-handed. C
7. Concerning the daughter of the Keeper of the Inkstand.
The Emperor, wishing to show favor to Chumnos, the Keeper of the Inkstand, whom he had long employed as a most faithful and reliable minister for all affairs, ...
and who had also prepared a very large dowry for his daughter, A decided to give her in marriage to Alexios, the prince of the Lazians, who was his own nephew and whom he had taken under his guardianship by the provisions of his father’s will, while his mother was still residing in Constantinople. He thought it advantageous, both for the prince himself and for the affairs of the Romans; and the motive by which he was primarily moved was that he saw he was thus providing best for a man very dear to him, binding him to the imperial kin by this alliance and securing him the more firmly in loyalty and benevolence toward himself.
He therefore applied his mind with all his might to this most desired resolution, and in a short time he brought the matter to such a point that he adorned the girl with the insignia of a despot and called her his bride. B Her mother, having heard of the contract, admitted it and was in agreement with the imperial decree, and she was even willing to come and prepare the wedding for her son. But he, C whether persuaded by someone or disdaining the marriage, or indeed because some other impulse had seized him, forestalled them and married a woman he had taken from among the noble Iberians.
The Emperor, having learned of this, was energetic in advancing the laws and putting forth the right of guardianship; for, as if he were a father—and at the same time, by reason of his kinship in the imperial line, a rightful guardian—he wished to sever the union. Yet he did not wish to act as a despot simply by order, but also through the mind and vote of the Church. D Whence, sending certain men to the patriarch and the synod around him, he set forth the legal argument—based both on the Emperor’s role as father and on his role as guardian of the young man—and tried to show the marriage to be invalid according to the laws, and he sought to have it dissolved as having been formed against his will.
When these arguments were discussed synodically, some of the bishops, who believed they were sticking to the true meaning of the laws, thought that the Emperor's requests should be granted. But the patriarch and most of those with him stood firmly in opposition; for they had heard it reported that the woman from Iberia was already pregnant as a result of Alexios. The mother of the prince, meanwhile, desiring to return home, held out hope to the Keeper of the Inkstand—as I have heard—that she was returning to bring about the dissolution of the contract rather than to announce it; for she said she could persuade her son only by her own person and not by letters, and thus—joining her to his own son John, who was already a despot—
A to which plan, beyond the other merits of the maiden herself and of her father, the magnitude of the dowry, which far exceeded the civil norm, added no small weight, and it would easily have excused before fair-minded men the marriage by which even the emperor’s son would have allowed himself to be inclined toward a union with a girl who, by royal opulence, was correcting the fortune of a private birth. But the Augusta, a woman of great spirit, by no means approved of this thought of the Augustus, indicated to her in many ways; she rejected, freely and irrevocably, the idea of lowering her son from the imperial height to a humble, civil affinity, however much it might be compensated by a mass of wealth. B Facing this unexpected obstacle, the Augustus stood perplexed, fearing domestic strife and, being prudent, meanwhile patiently avoiding quarrel and reproach by keeping silent about the matter. However, so that by art and time and the despair of a better condition he might induce the wife to wish of her own accord what he himself desired, he proposed the marriage of John with the princess of Achaia, who was already a widow—not unaware that the splendor of her person would satisfy his wife's ambition, and yet hoping that, when it came to binding the contract, she would easily be persuaded to abandon the matter on account of the grave inconvenience of the long disparity in age between the designated spouses, since the princess of Achaia was already barren, while John the Despot had barely entered his first youth.
8. Concerning the return of the emperor, and how he was conducted into the city.
[P. 200] Meanwhile, since it was necessary for these men, having settled affairs concerning the Kral and regulated Western matters as best they could—bringing both the son of Terter and Cotanitzes along in proper order—to return, they encamped somewhere outside the city. And the feast of the Meeting C was at hand; this was the twenty-second day of the month of November. The entire city, like some river current flowing from different sources, poured out from individual houses into one common confluence and spilled outside the walls of Charsius, and it prepared itself with greater zeal for the reception of the emperors, who were already absent for nearly two years. And the whole populace, having spent much of the day, both the Roman citizens and as many others from different races and languages—and especially the Italian—along with the most illustrious part of the city and the entire clergy and the bishops, stood, suspended in expectation, D waiting to receive the emperors with honor.
But while they were waiting, an event happened among the restless crowd, seething with eager zeal, which I do not know if anything quite so singular has ever occurred on such an occasion: namely, because of mutual jostling—unavoidable in a crowded throng—a certain man fell into a pit that happened to be underneath, and was in grave danger of his life. I would believe that this, heard by the elder Augustus (unless some other cause unknown to me moved him), suggested to him a plan which he immediately followed: that of dismissing the multitude, lest, in such a situation, the clemency of the princes be offended by the harm of some injury, and the joy of the auspicious return be disturbed. Therefore, having sent heralds, he announced to the people that he recognized their benevolence, and that he received such profuse demonstrations of their devoted affection with the most grateful spirit, as was fitting; but that for the sake of the people themselves, he remitted the rest, and ordered each one now to go home: for he did not...
know if anything else—the fact being that, caught in the press of the infinite multitude, someone might fall into the ditch and be at the brink of danger—might happen in addition to this, I imagine, or perhaps for some other reason, he persuaded the Emperor A to suddenly send away all the people by a proclamation, having already received their kindness and goodwill; yet, with the whole mass dispersed, he wished to enter. And this having been done, since even at the gates one could with difficulty pass through that infinite multitude, late in the day the Emperors, together with those around them, entered the city. [P. 201] And when all things there had proceeded according to the Emperor’s mind, and only the matter of the Patriarch was on his mind—for he was sitting in a corner at the monastery of the Pammakaristos—for these reasons he sent frequently and asked him to put aside all despondency and depart from there, and to change over to the Patriarchate. But he did not persuade him, although he asked many times. And an idea was also given to him for the relief of those things that had happened, though not of those things alone and by themselves, but also intertwining some other things, for the sake of which he asked the Emperor to come, and also for some of the clergy to come, and as many of the archpriests as would seem to him to be sufficient, and that reasons might be brought forward, and thus in some way the Patriarch, being comforted, might, if it were possible, resume his own ministry.
B On the first of the month of Lenaion, late at night, this took place; for it was a matter of concern to the Emperor, of the greatest importance, that the Patriarch should not resign at that time, and that it should seem to many that he had resigned for no other reason than the pact with the Kral, and that from this a scandal should happen to the affairs of the Church. For this reason, and between two things—the flattery toward him and the legal justification that seemed fit to him—he was constrained to wisely lead him toward whatever should seem good to the Patriarch. The Emperor therefore arrives, and meets with those around the Patriarch. We also were present there with others. Then, when the Emperor had sat down, and the holy men had also taken their seats, [P. 202] the Patriarch began to set forth to the Emperor the things that seemed to him to be cause for grief, on account of which he was brooding and wishing both to resign the presidency of the Church and the priesthood itself, if he were to be further compelled. And before the others he put forward the matter of the Kral, and set forth the things that seemed to stand in the way, namely that the marriage, contracted according to the laws, should be dissolved and the Emperor’s...
daughter, who was but an infant, led away. A And he achieved peace, such as iron cannot effect, and [he established] such truces as could hardly have been obtained through wars and battles—those truces which are most ordered and secure—nor, indeed, did he act contrary to the canons and laws, as that man supposed. For it is manifest and ordained by both canons and laws that a man who has taken a lawful wife may not, for any reasonable cause, cast her off and be joined to another. And if any man should dare to do such a thing, he shall be held guilty of adultery, and the cohabitation shall be considered unlawful, so that while the first wife, who was cast off, is still living, all those whom he took thereafter are not to be regarded as approved by the laws nor ranked among lawful wives. B “Or are these things not so among us, too?” says the Ruler. “Inquire, therefore, of those who have knowledge, and learn faithfully that it was no otherwise that we were able to accept the contract, unless we also demanded that the envoys [P. 203] confirm with oaths that the lawful wife was still alive when he was joined to the daughter of Terter, but that she had already ceased to live by the time we pledged our daughter into marriage, so that from this... C ...and he brought forward what might offend him, accusing [the Emperor] of having caused the previously valid marriage of the Kral to be shamefully dissolved, and of having unjustly repudiated the daughter of the King of Bulgaria so that the infant daughter born of the Emperor might be substituted in her place. He added that he could not bear how the people were burdened by tributes beyond measure; that there was no end to the gold and silver being raked in from everywhere, and from every kind of property. He said that salt for common use was subjected to new taxes, as was iron, and that the prices of the daily necessities of life were monstrously inflated by these exactions. He added that [the Emperor] soon prodigally poured out on frequent largesse that which had been avariciously extorted. A third head of grievances he annexed to these: that he was despised and no account was taken of the petitions of his clients when, in the line of duty, he intervened to act as advocate for those in danger and for the oppressed, and alleged the rights of the destitute—even if credible—in vain, with no fruit from his neglected authority. D Against these complaints, the Emperor began his defense from the beginning, first discoursing upon the treaty with the Kral, and [saying] that he was neither drawn into it by his own cupidity, nor had he sought the advantages that would privately accrue to himself and his own; but rather that he had sacrificed his own most tender affections for the public good in this matter. He told how his little daughter, the sweetest thing of all, the delight of himself and her mother, whom they were bringing up in the hope of the most splendid nuptials with great kings, was torn away from his bosom and cast into the hands of an insociable barbarian, who had nothing human in his culture and customs, and nothing significantly splendid in his own principality. Yet, he said, it was at that price that he had redeemed the captivity of the subjects of the Empire, who were being miserably abducted into slavery, the state of the Roman-governed provinces, which were being laid waste by incursions, and finally the grain and sustenance of the plebs submissive to him, who had previously been accustomed to being despoiled by the irreparable depredations of most rapacious brigands. Moved by compassion for such bitter oppression, and very much against his will—struggling with all his might against his own inclination—he had spent what was most dear to him for the relief of a calamity that could be averted by no other means, aware that many things are accomplished by agreements which are attempted in vain by war and iron, and that by the benefit of treaties—especially when solidified by the bond of a nuptial relationship (for it is by this glue that the wills of men are most firmly joined)—many and very great advantages redound to the common good, and that, too, quietly and securely, which could never have been provided by the sweat and most grave dangers of the most laborious expeditions, nor by the immense gore of battles. Nor, however, as he was falsely accused, had he attempted anything against the laws for the sake of such great and evident utility. For it is manifest, according to the pronouncements of the canons and even of civil sanctions, that it is neither lawful nor sound for a man who has taken a wife by lawful rite, having rejected her for no suitable cause, to be joined to another, and if one has attempted this, he is held guilty of adultery, and this second marriage is to be held as illegitimate, so that as long as the first, only true wife remains alive, as many as he takes thereafter are to be considered illegitimate and concubines rather than lawful wives. "But do these things not hold thus in our case?" the Emperor added. "Interrogate, therefore, those who know, and learn the truth of the matter. You will learn that we did not give our consent to the marriage of our daughter with the Kral until we had discovered, by the sworn testimonies of the envoys whom we had sent there, both that the lawful wife of the Kral was still among the living when he took the daughter of Terter into his bed, and that the same woman had already ceased to live when we made our son-in-law our relative. From which it follows manifestly that the daughter of Terter was nothing but a concubine, and our own infant daughter was the just and lawful bride of the Serbian prince. Furthermore...
A that a new procedure should be introduced, even in time, as you know, regarding royal betrothals, brings with it something surely advantageous for the preservation of peace. For the present, while our defense stands, it is necessary for us to do these things and more for the common good, even if certain painful aspects arise, since this, too, is a source of suffering and concern. Let it be proposed to you once again for consideration, and let it seem appropriate only with a reasonable cause—this I allow to happen. For I do not think that for an emperor there can be any parents other than the laws, or children other than all the Romans.” B Thus the emperor spoke, and he seemed to speak convincingly, and he persuaded the minds of many. Secondly, he offered a defense regarding the salt and the iron and other exactions of gold, putting forward the need and the necessity regarding common affairs, as nothing of what is required is naturally produced without money. For he himself does not love gold or silver at all, if they were not helping the needs of the Romans. For this reason, with money lacking, even the salaries usually given were withheld, “in order that we might be moved," he said. He brought forward also ancient emperors, and especially John, showing how much diligence he had for the gathering of money, to such an extent that when money was brought to him, if those who had the duty of receiving it at the public treasury did not receive it promptly, he would inflict anger upon those who did not accept it immediately, to such a degree that when one person fled to the Lazes, for the other—having taken blows by order—it happened that he died after a few days. He also produced as a witness of these things the then logariastes of the court, Angelus. And because he was immediately called in from his house for this purpose, his entering and speaking in the same way did not occur; for the emperor did not think it right that he should stand while the others honored with office were sitting, but it seemed ill-timed for him to enter and sit down again. C For this reason, it was ordained by the emperor that the one who writes such things, and the second one, also honorable among the clergy, should go out and ask and inquire of him concerning the things that the emperor was saying. And this was done, and what was said was testified to be true, D while he himself added further, and there was also a necessity of finding resources for collection.
[Latin text translated following sequence in source:] Whatever novelty is contained in a hasty marriage for a young girl who has not reached puberty, it is right for it to be forgiven to princes, whose weddings exceed the private lot in this, that they do not follow with such attachment to the intervals and observations of times, as you know. In which kind of case, if their own inclinations are followed, and only because it pleases them, it is done with the granting of an outstanding privilege of dignity to them, which no one denies, for the sake of certain rites that are otherwise strictly required by everyone; how much more justly should it be forgiven them, when they have redeemed an inestimable benefit of secure peace in the constancy of a long-fixed time for the republic—which would have been in peril, or rather would have suffered most gravely, if they had not done so? They redeemed it, as we now do, at the bitter price of heavy domestic loss and a long expenditure of a most cherished life. But this is our lot as rulers, upon whom the condition of our principal office and necessity enjoins that we endure these and more, however troublesome and burdensome they may be for the common utility. I have finished the cause of the Serbian treaty thus far, and I have explained what I have done in it and why, leaving it entirely to your judgments as to what you wish to be done by me now regarding this, prepared at your nod to amend and, as far as I can, to restrain, if you show anything reprehensible therein with suitable reasons. We object to nothing, ready for all things without any regard for private needs or affections; for I do not think that the one who rules has parents other than the laws, or children other than all the Romans. The emperor having said these things appeared to have spoken plausibly, and he drew the assent of many to his opinion. He then purged the other head of the accusation against himself concerning salt and iron and other exactions of gold, alleging the poverty of the treasury and the inescapable necessity of great money for public expediency. For it is the nature of such affairs that they cannot be accomplished without the expenditure of money: and that he does not love gold or silver essentially, unless as they have the power to aid the republic by facilitating the carrying out of plans that are publicly salutary. That he had long since proven by painful experience the just use of gold, having long been forced to withhold the stipends decreed to the ministers of the republic and customarily paid with great faith; and since this most hateful parsimony was not sufficient for the expenses by which the state and the safety of the empire are bought, some method of extracting money from anywhere had to be found. But who could devise any other method than this, from the assessment of subjects? “But let us move,” he said, “come now, the discussion, by turning back the gaze of our mind to the memory of past reigns from our present experience.” He introduced ancient emperors here, and especially John, demonstrating how great had been his zeal for collecting money, to such an extent that when complaint was made by certain people that public money was being handled with negligence by the treasury officials, he was so inflamed with anger against two ministers found guilty of such negligence that one of them, for fear of punishment, fled to the Lazes, and the other, by order of the Augustus, was struck with such and so many heavy blows that they made the suspicion of many credible, who attributed his death, which followed a few days later, to that flogging. As a witness to this event, he then brought forward the court logariastes, Angelus, who, having been immediately summoned from his house to declare this very thing, could not be admitted inside to appear before the assembly (since, for the reason that a man decorated with the honor of office could not stand while others sat...
A and because he likewise had others who were his peers and who were joining in the petition and persuasion). Thence that old man, being softened (for he was indeed very easily persuaded in his disposition), stirred to this also by his own household, yields, and obeys the emperor who is entreating him, and pledges that immediately after remaining there only for the first few days he would recover the patriarchate. This happened, and the feast of the Hypapante saw the patriarch once again at church.
10. Concerning the matters regarding John of Ephesus.
But the envy of Telchin did not rest B even then. However, when spring had arrived and the Paschal holidays had passed, the matter of John of Ephesus was set in motion. And the emperor himself, acknowledging that he had sinned against him—for there was no one else who would have deposed him, but only his own will by reason of the scandal regarding Gregory, and [not] those who… C ...were not just to claim for himself, and to be carried away in seeking more than right reason would allow, Andronicus affirmed, and endeavored to prove with many arguments. Nevertheless, he added a promise of being more easily swayed in the future, showing clearly that it was his firm resolve both to hear the patriarch kindly as often as he should approach him thereafter, and to gratify him by accomplishing what he wished. He prayed repeatedly that, having loosened the constriction of his spirit and laid aside all bitterness and suspicious sadness, he would resume the exercise of his power, and allow himself to be honored with the honors due to such a priesthood. While the emperor was saying these things, D happy and smiling, with all who were present also supporting him and requesting the same by common assent, the old man was finally softened; for he was in truth flexible to the persuasions of his friends, a man not of an unyielding mind, nor stubborn in his preconceived notions; but his familiars at that time also promoted this readiness of the man to acquiesce to fair things, exhorting him to allow himself to be persuaded of what everyone desired. The patriarch therefore agreed to the requests of the emperor, and promised him that he would not remain in the place where he was any longer than the dead of night at that time compelled him; at the first dawn he would return to the patriarchal residence. Nor was faith lacking to his promises: for the following feast of the Hypapante saw the patriarch restored to sacred ministries once again in the church. Although, so that the joy of the prelate thus restored to office might not be perpetual, the malignity of the envious demon did not cease to try again. But with spring having truly followed and the Paschal holidays having passed, the case of John of Ephesus began to be retracted. And the emperor indeed, repenting of his own accord, confessed that he had acted iniquitously against him, inasmuch as it was by his own will that, on account of his being falsely accused of participating in the scandal of Gregory and being forced for that reason to renounce his dignity, he had forced his abdication.
Having, as it were, A confessed that it was among the impossibilities—that John should be restored, he was that person who had not swerved in the least regarding the dogmas, and then to accept his resignation. And for this reason, the Emperor, B having purposely lowered him, being high-throned, he thrust him into a cell. He himself, at any rate, wishing to restore the honor to him, was giving back that which he had also taken away in anger: his benevolence. The high priests, however, with the exception of the [bishop] of Philadelphia and the [bishop] of Smyrna, and I know not if a third other, were of the opinion that the Emperor—should he relent in his anger—ought to hold him in his own honor. [P 206] Both respecting the justice of the matter, and because the man was not least capable and useful for the greatest matters of the Church in his virtue and reason; for they held that the things set in motion against him under the patriarchate of Athanasius had not succeeded at all, but that the trial had remained half-finished due to the wavering of the high priests over the things moving B strongly. And they indeed were justifying the man in this way, but the patriarch and the [bishop] of Philadelphia (for the third, the one of Smyrna, being subject to an accusation of treason for having blessed Malakes—and Malakes was he who held Smyrna for Philanthropenos, whom he had also [?] decorated later—was in danger and was inactive) were for the time being both of them, the patriarch and the [bishop] of Philadelphia, resisting.
From this a great rivalry began to grow between them, so that the patriarch also, having given up, withdrew, and again to the monastery of the Pammakaristos, the crowd of the synod to this. For the Emperor held back softly and was guarding the patriarch as he naturally should, fending [him] off as he had.
11. Concerning the accusations of the high priests against the patriarch.
Since he had indeed acted privately and had locked the door so that no one from the outside might enter for the sake of an appeal or indeed a judgment, the high priests who were wavering toward him, thinking they were doing something capable against him—and with the [bishop] of Ephesus collaborating with them obliquely—they drew up a scroll of complaint and handed it to the Emperor, from this trying to slacken and dissolve the Emperor's disposition toward him. And the complaints were that, since good order is required if in other things, then also in the affairs of the Church (for this, the Fathers also established through their own canons), he had not cared at all for this during his patriarchate. For the judgments which they [wished] to conduct synodically [P 207]
A by means of a legitimate concurrence of suffrages, he alone changes, and by a personal rescript commands things contrary to what was commonly ordained. Furthermore, the churches widowed of their pastors, with the canonical elections of bishops to replace the deceased being delayed on purpose, he usurps for himself, sending men to collect their revenues in his name; and part of these he consumes at his pleasure, while part he bestows upon those whom he has appointed to these administrations. Nay, even the goods of his own church he permits to be dispensed at will by his own son Ephraim, providing him with a handle and material for doing evil on account of the gains he amasses for himself therein, when by custom he ought to have entrusted such stewardship to an oeconomos chosen for this purpose, a suitable man by whose faithful and prudent judgment the administration of the Church’s goods would be conducted rightly and as is fitting. These and many such things the bishops’ document contained, by which they were eager to render the patriarch, who had heretofore been feigning ignorance of them B, liable to blame, or at least suspect in the eyes of the emperor, from whom they grieved that they were excluded from the sharing of counsels and almost disowned. When the emperor received these things, he indeed relaxed much from that vehement affection with which he had formerly embraced the patriarch, not, however, so as to decide to cast him down from the throne entirely; but rather he resolved to win him over by benign treatment and indulgence, if he could, to resume the exercise of patriarchal authority, though he was determined no longer to descend, as he had done before, to humble entreaties and declarations which might compel a reluctant man, [and] which were fixed on gaining his consent. Judging it sufficient for the moment if, after a benign invitation, he were to receive back the one whom he had summoned—provided he returned willingly and benevolently—and to study how to reconcile the opposing bishops to him by persuading them to concord with him and by endeavoring that the crimes objected to him might be cleared by just purifications. That he would not now at least attempt any further measures, nor shrink too much from a change of prelate, was brought about by the scruples, long since rooted in his mind and not yet entirely torn out, from that fulmination of curses and C anathemas which Athanasius had put into abstruse documents. For though the wounds of those fears had in some way healed, yet not so that the care which arose from them D unexpectedly did not sometimes—to a superstitious prince—as it were, chafe the closed scars, and trouble him with the reflection that it did not appear that that expatriarch would ever truly absolve what he had bound, and would duly and legitimately remit those horrible execrations, unless he were restored to the see and received the same power he had been endowed with when he wrote them. For this declaration, by which the consciences of many had then been calmed, appeared to have been wrung by reproach from an unwilling man, and that there was no lack of danger that as something extorted by force, it was void of effect and of no authority. Moreover, it was plain—if one looked more closely—that there were signs of such an opinion secretly and ill-concealed in Athanasius himself. For why else, in the letters published about this, had he omitted to append the customary "holy" to the emperor’s name, unless he wished to imply that he did not deem that he [the emperor] had been duly and truly absolved by these [letters] from the terrible bonds of the anathemas he had previously twisted upon himself? And what were those things he was said to be doing now, did they not imply the same thing? For it was heard that, from the time these controversies were stirred up regarding the patriarch who was now in power, he had allowed the doors of his previously closed cell to stand ajar; and indeed that he had even secretly admitted some, and by timely financial assistance had gained the favor of some of the poor among the populace: which were signs of a fortune that was by no means reconciled to the present, and of one looking back from thence to the throne from which he had fallen. Such anxieties, dwelling deeply in the mind of Andronicus, the elder Augustus—a mind too prone to every sense of religion—were like the preludes of an impending struggle and the first commotions of one soon to be lying in wait, without any sense of his own [to be] a vengeful one, but which would erupt in ways least expected, for the sake of restoring the one who had fallen. Such were the things at that time: what the future will be, shall be told. What now impends, did not altogether escape the patriarch, [namely] what was being devised against him by the bishops. Wherefore, having entered upon the care of retaining and asserting
what was his own, he resolved to anticipate them and go straight to the Emperor, and by offering himself to his view, without the suspicious mediation of messengers, to dispel face-to-face and with becoming modesty whatever offense malevolent accusations might have perchance stirred up in the mind of the sovereign against him.
12.
How the patriarch, though uninvited, met the Emperor.
Having thus reasoned, he mounted his horse toward evening on the twenty-fifth day of the month of October and came to the Emperor. The Emperor received him graciously, inclined his head for a blessing, and believing this to be the time for both of them to proceed together to the Palaiologos monastery for the sake of celebrating the feast that was being held there, they went together. And because it was the third day of the week, on which, by long-established custom, it was necessary for the Emperor to go to the Hodegon monastery for the sake of devotion, after they had traveled a certain part of the way together, they parted: the Emperor performed his necessary journey as he was wont, but the patriarch returned to the patriarchal residence. Rumor had already spread that the patriarch had received a divine visitation, which had moved him—contrary to what he had previously decided—to return to his residence and to the administration of his proper dignity. For it was commonly reported (and this later John himself confirmed in letters written to the Emperor) that as he sat alone in his own quarters, during a period of wakefulness—and not in a dream—he clearly heard the voice of a boy standing above him, as it seemed, uttering these words: "If you love me, Peter, feed my lambs," (Joan. xxi, 17) and having clearly heard these words and understood what they enjoined, he had at that same hour abandoned his retirement, gone forth, returned to the patriarchal residence, and firmly resolved never to withdraw from there again, whatever might happen. B Then, furthermore, some of the bishops received the patriarch, as he returned to the exercise of his power, with their customary submission, while others stubborny refused to submit to him or to communicate with him; C as causes for their rebellion, they alleged—as it seemed to them—reasons that were not to be despised, namely that John did not wish to agree with them on many matters, but as if independent and claiming for himself the right to manage everything according to his own judgment, he arrogated to himself and asserted his liberty. By saying this, they were hinting at the affair of John of Ephesus, in which, indeed, that usurpation of independent authority that he was affecting was most manifest; for he was refusing, with an irrevocable firmness of mind, to assent to the bishops in what they judged ought to be done or decided about that prelate. But the Emperor, wishing to preserve the honor due to the patriarch and to give, once again, proof of the grace reconciled with him—with a constant show of reverence toward him—was now visiting him frequently, and by summoning the bishops, he busied himself with all care to soothe their swelling anger and to recall to benevolence those who were hostile and averse to him, promising that what they desired would be more effectively accomplished by peaceful offices than by turbulent impetuousness. D They should trust in him alone, and hold themselves ready to submit to the patriarch; everything would be restored to its integrity, and if anything had been committed amiss, it would be amended according to their wish. By these means, partly willing and partly—by a certain force of imperial modesty—with their wills, which were struggling in the contrary direction, being bent, they were in truth inclined toward obedience, or else they feigned the assent that they could not refuse to the highest authority of one who was beseeching them, while silently planning for another time when they might resume what had been begun, and what they had previously accused as being wrongly done, they now pretended to tolerate for the sake of the prince, while in reality seeking to have it refashioned and corrected.13. How the Despot Michael took the daughter of Terteris in marriage
In the meantime, Michael the Despot, having long ago lost his first wife—who was the sister of the Emperor—cast his eyes upon the daughter of Terteris, who had been separated from the Cral of Serbia. Asking for her, and she being willing, he took her to wife, with the Emperor not opposing it, and the Church subsequently approving the act. Indeed, some time after he had joined her to himself in marriage and had already begotten children by her, he bestowed upon her the title of Despotess, with which he himself had long been invested. And he treated the daughter of Terteris, now his wife, as his lawful spouse, lacking none of the honors that are due to a legitimate wife by right of established necessity.
14. Concerning the comet seen in the sky in the evening
At that time, a comet shone forth in the evening, regarding which I remember recording in my *Life*, written in verse, the following:
The autumn season had equalized the hours of light and dark, And the sun, annual guest, held the sacred countenance of Erigone, When a cheerful comet, glowing from the region of the Thracians, Began to extend its hair toward the eastern tracks, Proceeding itself from the West, but always With unequal circuits, as it always leaves behind more of the night Than the day before, rising into the heights more quickly And drawing nearer in the evening to the highest axis. For it did not travel along the path of any fixed star, But rather bent its course into the heights on each successive night. Returning again to the place where its hair had first appeared, It withered, shorn of its tail, and ceased to be seen.
I am not unaware that others have given different accounts of this; I, however, have set down what I knew. Yet the majority, following the common prejudice and that well-worn verse currently in circulation—that every comet is by nature evil—have distorted the appearance of this star to signal the ill-omened foreboding of misfortunes for the public. But to me, as I reflected upon the nature of the universe and followed in particular the method of discourse handed down by the Stagirite philosopher, it seemed appropriate to record only those things concerning this phenomenon which pertain to its origin, its location, the manner of its duration, and the time it ended, not omitting those things which either preceded or followed its appearance.
From the spring season just past until the autumn equinox, when it began to be seen, an unusual drought scorched our sky, holding the fields in a dry and dusty grip. The result was that the earth could produce nothing of what it usually germinates during the summer; the perennial wells and the living springs of the fountains all failed. Then, frequent, dry, and violent winds arose, making the air difficult to breathe. The meadows blossomed and the hay ripened earlier than in the entire month. Such things a historian could commit to memory from a present observation of natural events. But he was ignorant then—though the sad experience of later events taught him—that this was the beginning of the great evils which oppressed not just this or that part of the Eastern regions, but our entire world, as far as it extends, spreading from every side through the incursion of the Persians into this empire.
15. Of the lunar defection.
In the same year, A in the current month of January—which the interpreters of the Ascraean poet [Hesiod] say is called Lenaeon by the Athenians, though not correctly, I think, even if we in our *Life* have followed their exposition (for in truth the Athenians call what the Romans call January, Hecatombaeon)—since the first lunar progression from the new moon had begun with this month, it fell into a defection at the full moon, just as those skilled in astronomical reasoning had foretold to the emperor. And we have written about this in our own verses in this way: The first traces of the month mark the first path, Where the moon of the east is still hollow of face and two-horned. When it had grown, and nearly the third hour of the night was turning, Splendidly it was carried in its chariot, when darkness suddenly Infected it, entering gradually from the eastern part, Continuous, until it perished, having been consumed through the hour. B And for a third of an hour it remained black. Then, resuming Light from the limbo, it was washed clear in the whole hour, Night from its countenance, and it shines forth again with a full face, Just as the master had foretold by his measurements of the stars, And the eye saw what the ear had heard from him beforehand.16. Concerning those of the Alani who crossed over to the emperor.
These events occurred in that year. But the magnanimous nation of the Alani, numbering nearly sixteen thousand heads—of whom more than half were fit for war and experienced—having been abandoned by Nogai and freed from servitude under him after he had fallen in battle, sought to cross over into the emperor’s service; and having approached the bishop of Bitzine, they besought him to use his influence to persuade Andronicus to admit them. The present state of the empire’s affairs at that time favored such a petition, C for the Eastern regions were then laboring heavily. Therefore, when the Bitzinensian reported what the Alani were requesting, the Augustus and those who were of his council readily agreed, as if rejoicing at the meeting with a most auspicious event. They considered that such a remedy for the urgent evils, offering itself voluntarily and so opportunely, was not to be sought with much study or bought at any price. They reckoned that these men were as if the *triarii* or even the praetorians of Nogai, the principal strength of his army, by whose force and strong and faithful service he had accomplished those many and great things through which his name had been rendered illustrious. Such men, therefore, appearing at such a time of their own accord as aids to the falling Roman state, they thought ought to be accepted with thanksgiving, just as if—as the saying goes—a god from the machine [deus ex machina]. For who would not understand that a support arriving so opportunely by the truly beneficent providence of God ought to be considered a mark of dullness and ingratitude to ignore? Immediately, therefore, they were invited by imperial letters, extended with great honor, and they themselves, without delay, migrated hither with their families and baggage in a huge number of carts and wagons. And the emperor did not fail to provide abundantly for the sustenance of his new guests: for, having collected a great quantity of grain from the regions of Thrace and Macedonia, he provided ample food for the whole population and even for the lowest of the Alan commoners. D He received the nobles and leaders of the nation most humanely and appeased them with every sign of benevolence, decreeing for them, in addition, annual payments from the collected treasury. But he also distributed horses that had been taken from his own soldiers to those among them who appeared fit for cavalry service; and he ordered the unarmed foot soldiers of the Roman race, who had long ago received the custom of the camps and were bound to be present for the fighting cavalry, to serve the same [Alani] nonetheless, and to expend diligent care and effort in healing their wounds and warding off other dangers. And those thus enrolled he sent into the Eastern regions, having given the order to ministers suitable for this purpose so that they might assign them homes and fields there.that nation was obedient, and for wars both exceedingly warlike and valiant. And for this reason he thought little of the Romans, as having become entirely effeminate and, of necessity, for the most part softened, and not less so by a wicked disposition and choice. But he relied all the more A upon those who had only just appeared and were preparing for Persian wars, having sufficient from the Emperor. They, indeed, were seeking to campaign here in a body, as was their custom of old when making war with Nogai, that is to say in mass, so that they might assist one another in war. But the affairs of the Roman empire, being scattered on all sides, forced them to do this, so that they had neither respect for one another nor the proper defense for one another. Therefore he sent the majority to the East, and handed over others to Muzalon, the governor of the Halizons. He also prepared many of the better ones and set them out together with his son and emperor; for the B presence of the emperor leading the army himself seemed to be demanded by the current state of Oriental affairs. But those whom I have said were sent ahead to the East soon revealed their barbaric character; almost immediately after crossing at the Callipolis strait, they despised the orders of their commanders and inflicted great evils upon the peoples of Romania. For, in the manner of robbers, they were venturing most licentiously into everything, bringing unforeseen misfortune to the miserable farmers through whose lands they passed, and a grim encounter to those they met, and being a grievous neighborhood to those nearby, whom they had been sent to assist. Finding lands abounding in all manner of goods, they lived in luxury by plundering them. Having barely escaped, with many of the difficulties remaining which both those who were in charge and those they encountered had experienced, they kept in mind the agreements, yet they did not behave as they had promised, but were haughty toward their leaders, and in their own conduct, as much as barbarians acting together, they attacked the Romans more than [they did] their enemies. Sometimes, even having been enslaved by great and [far-sighted]...
C ...the state of the Orient demanded the presence of an emperor personally leading his army. However, those whom I have said were sent on to the East quickly unpeeled their barbaric ways; almost immediately after their crossing at Callipolis, spurning the commands of their leaders, they brought great evils upon the peoples of Romania. Indeed, after the fashion of brigands, they were most licentiously raiding everything, bringing unexpected misfortune to the wretched farmers in the regions through which they passed, a grim encounter to those in their way, and a burdensome and hostile neighborhood to those dwelling nearby. Thus, with no respect for social treaties, they openly behaved with all the ferocity of hostile incursions against those whom they had pretended they were arriving to assist. The present abundance D of their greed was, of course, provoked by seeing, as they passed through fertile lands, villages and houses here and there filled with various kinds of spoils and plunder, upon which they rushed with loosened reins of desire, feeling no shame for law or equity, extorting whatever pleased them, and indulging their gluttony and lust through an intemperate abuse of rapine. I would not deny, however, that upon their first new arrival in Romania, with the fresh memory of the miseries from which they had just been delivered—both from the impending threats to their former homes and dwellings given by Nogai, and from the flight by which, having been driven out from there, they had with difficulty traversed hostile lands until they found safe refuge under the protection of the emperor—they were seen for a short time to be restrained by a certain modesty and to remember the faith of the hospitality pacts. But returning quickly to their savagery, they dispelled the opinion of their modesty and the confidence in aid from them, as the peoples, experiencing dire injuries, felt themselves deceived. For immediately they rose up contumaciously against their leaders, and, more mindful of the barbarism they once shared with the Persians than of the treaty recently contracted with the Romans, they used their strength and arms more frequently and more cruelly against us than against the enemies. There was, however, [a time] when, with great and smooth inducements, they were led to conspire with the Romans, their labor joined with ours, [for] a common [goal].
A They gathered at the place called Pegai along with the Romans, joined the fray, and fought with the greatest valor, winning a substantial number of captives and gathering much booty. They appeared to possess a warlike spirit, though in their customs they were unruly, acting as barbarians; yet they were capable of behaving in an orderly fashion, since they had little regard for others as long as they were led by an emperor.
17. Regarding the Emperor Michael and his expedition to the East. 18. How the Emperor Michael missed a chance for a military hunt.
The truth is that the Emperor Michael had not until then been occupied with wars and battles; nevertheless, he possessed a deep spirit, a noble courage, and no little zeal for the Romans who were suffering, and he was eager to act, as those who knew him would say. When the time arrived that called him to campaign in the East, he was ready instantly. At once both his father and emperor commanded it, and he himself showed forwardness that was not ignoble. Therefore, in the spring, around the days of Easter, he set forth, bringing with him a large barbarian force of Alans, and hoping to meet with a significant Roman force as well—some already gathered from there, and others marching toward the campaign. He departed, then, with greater hopes than many could have conceived, and quickly reached the regions of the East. Having taken up residence at Magnesia on the Hermus, he drew up his forces from B there against the enemies, as if intending to wage battle immediately, should they appear anywhere. Meanwhile, he made sorties, and by attacking in detachments, he took prisoners, and our men enjoyed the spoils of the enemy. But to invade openly was not safe for them, as the enemies were using their fortifications, nor did they offer [easy access], having indeed been alarmed at the rumor of the Emperor’s arrival and having hidden themselves in the most rugged mountains.
The Emperor sought an opportunity that would draw them into a daring action, so that they might rise up from their lairs and wish to attack. [P. 215] And it was with difficulty that this arrived, C (18) when at last, the enemies having come against him and drawn themselves up in an infinite multitude, they took heart and dared to advance with a great and heavy spirit, even against those around the Emperor. Having been announced to the Emperor that the enemies had gathered in great number and that—not yet having the confidence to attack, and being in a state of irresolution regarding the battle—they were not yet…
A confident to attack, while the Emperor considered it a matter of no small moment but rather one of great danger to his own person as well; for it was by no means certain that they would be overcome easily and safely, but rather that a defeat might be incurred. For the enemy was numerous and experienced in battle, and they would not have been so bold as to advance openly had they not hoped for great results. Furthermore, the report of the Emperor himself had reached them, which made it likely that one of two things would happen: either they would withdraw out of fear and weakness, or they would appear emboldened by a great hope. This latter prospect was to be feared all the more if the Emperor were present, rather than if they were attacking while alone. By saying these things, they were in every way dampening the ardor of the troops and also weakening the spirit of the Emperor, and at the same time, the second in command after the first, and the third after him, and so on, B by expressing fears and conjuring up terrible suspicions, persuaded the others to turn back, arguing that it was neither safe to attack with the Emperor, nor were they themselves courageous enough to wage the war alone; for in all things they considered it a secondary concern to keep both the Emperor and the army in safety. Thus it happened that, even against the Emperor’s will and the army’s own eagerness—for they were already no longer away from the enemy but among the enemy themselves and about to join in battle—the commanders, suddenly seized by fear, began to reconsider and be irresolute, and were filled with suspicions, not, as they claimed, fearing for themselves, but ostensibly over-anxious for the Emperor. For they considered the loss of themselves alone to be a tolerable sacrifice, even if they were to rush into certain destruction; for if they were to perish alone in the battle, the state could still survive, whereas if the Emperor were also taken, the entire state and the standing of the Empire would likely collapse in the same disaster. Therefore, it would be insane to cast such dice over a single, highly uncertain hope, to which the far more solid fear C offered no room. For why do we dream of victory when we are all but defeated already? Do we not see the infinite multitude of the hostile battle line? Are we ignorant that both the bravest and most experienced soldiers in wars stand there? Moreover, that their clear and manifest victory over us—if we engage them—is shown by this very boldness of theirs which we see. They would never have come forth so confidently, having previously hidden themselves, unless they were incited by a sure hope of great success. Nothing regarding our affairs is hidden from them. They know most distinctly about the Emperor who comes against them, and about his troops and power. Being thoroughly instructed by such a report of fame, and conscious of their own strength, it behooved them to do one of two things: either, after understanding their own weakness by comparison, to decline the conflict, or, from that same calculation, having conceived an unquestionable confidence in our great disaster and their own huge victory, to run eagerly toward the certain reward, just as they are doing; an outcome all the more to be feared by us, because, as has been said, we perceive the head itself and the August person of the Emperor involved in the same danger D of captivity or death as we are. Recounting such things, they not only checked their own advance against the enemy but also curbed the prompted ardor of the August Michael as he was rushing valiantly into battle. For when the second [commander] after the first, and then the third replacing him, and then more arriving one after another, kept presenting those same sad spectra of terror, advising and calling him back, the young prince, his resolve shaken, began to withdraw…
19. How the Alans forced Emperor Michael to withdraw from the war.
The Alans who were with the Emperor began to mention their return, begging the Emperor first of all to release them, and then even pressing him to do so. For they asserted that they had endured the toils of war for a long time, and that they required some relief, being unaccustomed to such prolonged conflicts; for they were used to campaigning with Nogai, joining battle with their opponents on the spot, and then, after fighting for a short time and settling affairs, to living for the rest of the time in ease and luxury; whereas to be worn out by such long-drawn-out battles and expeditions was something they neither knew how to do nor were they able to bear. By saying these things, they made it clear that they were ready B to depart even if the Emperor did not give them permission, and to resist those who might attempt to stop them. When the Emperor learned this, and as many other unpleasant matters pressed upon him—for from one side, the amount of his own Roman forces, as he learned, was dwindling daily, and they could not be restrained, but upon hearing the sad reports flowing in from every side, reports that told each of them that their homes were either already plundered by the enemy or were in imminent danger of destruction by force and fire, they were overcome by anxiety and would hurry to bring aid, abandoning the camp without even bidding the Emperor farewell, as the love for their families overrode the sense of discipline and the sanctity of their military oath; C moreover, the Emperor’s uncle, Asan, had died during that campaign. Another uncle, the Despot Michael, had also departed for home on account of illness in order to seek treatment—and from all these things, the entire strength of his camp was being shaken; when the Emperor realized this, and that he was disturbed by many other simultaneous and unwelcome events pressing upon him from all sides, he yielded to the counsel that he should withdraw his army.
He allowed himself to be persuaded, though he was unwilling, and the army, which was D not equal in number or equipment to such a difficult undertaking, returned ingloriously to their quarters without having achieved anything at all. Immediately, all the peoples subject to the empire paid for this military failure with their own disastrous losses, as all security was taken away, leaving them exposed to dire calamities. For as soon as it was announced to the Persians that the Emperor had retreated so ignobly and shamefully, grasping at a freedom to act far beyond what they had enjoyed before, they raided all the regions near the border, marching as far as the very field they call the plain of the "Mænomenos," plundering and devastating everything in their path. And after inflicting many evils upon the inhabitants of that place and gathering much spoil, having set up trophies over the Romans, they returned home. Indeed, they did not diminish their pride arising from such a success; but rather, subsequently despising the Emperor and the Roman camps even more, and feeling no fear of any threat hanging over them, they now openly and most confidently pitched their camps on Roman soil. While the Emperor remained shut up inside Magnesia, the enemy roamed about daily and committed the greatest atrocities. The unfortunate people were partly slaughtered and partly escaped the dire fate of death by a miserable flight; some of them crossed the sea to neighboring islands, while others fled as far as the western districts, seeking safety.
20. The departure of the Emperor from Magnesia
A Those of the Roman fighting men who were about him, having learned that their own homes were already given over to destruction, abandoned the campaign alongside the Emperor and withdrew, each one to look to his own interests. His uncle Asan was dead, and his other uncle, the Despot Michael, having fallen ill, also departed for his home; thus, the whole burden lay upon the Alans. He had no way to force them to stay, yet he held them for a specified three-month period by agreements under oath, on the condition that he would either satisfy them with gifts or dismiss them from there, hoping by means of letters and messages to his father, the Emperor, to find a way to provide either funds or a policy in this matter. The Emperor, having learned of this, was concerned to provide what was appropriate for his son and to satisfy the necessities of the nation; for he did not judge at all safe that they should depart from there. But while he was in these straits, B on one hand the affairs of the Church began to be troubled once again, and on the other hand, dire events began to occur in these regions, of which it will be spoken later. It is good, however, to weave together to the end the matters concerning the Alans, even if those things happened in the meantime, so that the account concerning them may be continuous.
The Emperor, having been occupied with these necessary matters, was surrounded on all sides by dire straits, so that there were, on the one hand, those who were harassing the Romans, and here, Amourion and Lamine and Atmane C and countless others were invading. Thus, the three-month period having been exhausted, the Alans, even against the Emperor's will, were rushing to depart. Then the Emperor himself, because he could not remain in Magnesia (for he could neither assist those who were being harmed, and it was a source of grief not to be able to do so, and countless mocking insults were expected from the enemies, and moreover he feared for himself as everything was being overturned), decided that he also—though secretly—would depart. On one side he deceived the eyes of his own men, and on the other, he outwitted the suspicions of the enemies. Whence he departs from there by night and in winter weather. But he was not destined to remain hidden from his own men to the end, nor did he wish to leave the enemies in total ignorance of what he was doing. He uses, therefore, the night for the sake of his own people, and the winter for the sake of the enemies, as it had thus fallen out. Those who were active and prepared for flight, then, joining with the army on foot and D with trembling messengers from all sides bringing news of the most grievous necessities that were oppressing the regions surrounding the city—from Amourion here, from Lamine there, from Atmane hereafter, and finally from countless others invading from elsewhere—the time of the three-month truce agreed upon by Michael with the Alans happened to expire before his father, occupied with the things I have mentioned, could provide any suitable aid or counsel. For the Alans, thinking that there was nothing further for them to wait for, irrevocably made their move, however much the Emperor opposed it. Having been caught in such a crisis of affairs, Michael, seeing that every cause and opportunity for remaining in Magnesia was removed from him, and not feeling himself capable of either bearing the envy of those who were abandoned and accusing him, or [the burden of] those who were the most miserably oppressed by the Persians who were freely swarming about and asking for aid from him in the vicinity, or [the burden of] his own grief—by which his conscience was inwardly burned by the inability to resist the enemies and protect his own [subjects] who were laboring most extremely—and foreseeing that, once he was stripped of the protection of the Alans, intolerable insults from the enemies mocking him from all around would soon press upon him, and also because of the danger to his own liberty and life in such a desperate confusion of all things there, he decided that he himself would depart from there, but so covertly that he would deceive the eyes of those of his own who were watching him closely, and even the suspicions of the enemies. By night, therefore, and indeed [in weather] foul with rain, he surrendered himself to the journey, fleeing, hoping that by the benefit of the darkness he would remove from his own men, and by the inclemency of the storm from the enemies, every thought of his departure; which hope, however, deceived him. For he did not remain hidden from the Romans in the end, nor even from the enemies, preparing to launch himself at such an untimely hour and at such an unsuspected time. Therefore, from those Romans who were in Magnesia, once the flight of the Emperor was known, as many as were ready and [prepared] to flee…
men together with[their] wives and infants, hurried after the cavalry who were fleeing with great haste. And as much as there was vigor, they purchased their own lives with running and labor so long as they were able; but the rest, some being utterly exhausted, slackened their pace and toil, while others, being crowded beyond their strength, fell in between, and some were revived by the winter cold, while others were trampled underfoot. And the suffering B was grievous, with the enemy at that time stationed nearby, and their fires being lit—as was clearly evident—and [ready] to strike them, if they so wished; others were in straits due to a lack of power and strength, others due to the winter, and others still due to fear. There were some who met with danger by the trampling of one another, and many were overtaken by a surprise attack from the rear. These things happened, and, as the report goes, it chanced that about one hundred souls were in danger. They themselves, with difficulty and in disorder, hastening on, arrive at Pergamum, though exhausted by great toil.
21. The Migration of the Eastern Regions
However, due to the need and the evils [associated with the fact] that the Persians were moving freely against them, attacking those above Pergamum, no one there was confident that they could remain safe in their own home. Rather, all stood ready for flight, and as soon as any breeze reached them of the incoming hostile force, they immediately left their homes and departed. Some went as far as Pergamum and further into the interior toward the region of Adramyttium; others even reached the sea near Lampsacus; but the majority crossed to the opposite shore, having traversed the Hellespont. And others had proceeded even further because they were shaken by the greatest fears and had given up on returning entirely. And they would depart before any delay, to a danger that was suspected to be greater than any safety. And what was worst, those who came upon [the homes] of those who had departed first, being themselves driven into flight, were no less in a desperate state, being deprived of their own possessions. And the matter seemed like the flow of a river, which is not permitted by those coming upon it to keep its own place, and [the fluid] which has held [a place] for a moment, quickly releases those [who come later] being pushed out; and in the end it is unstable and is carried in every direction, and stands nowhere, clinging to all and contained by none. And those possessions and houses, the works of industrious men, were counted for nothing, C where even their own necessities were [being lost].
And this was less to be wondered at, since the very supply of crops necessary for sustenance and the equipment useful for the body, however it might present itself, was rejected by those struck with the terror of slaughter or barbarian servitude; whom, helpless and naked, wandering without hearth or home, one could see rushing everywhere with the swiftest pace, whither the hope of placing their safety in a secure place invited each one, committing the rest to divine providence. A
22. The departure of the Alans from the Emperor, and affairs concerning the Grand Domestic Raoul.
Then the Alans, released from the duty of military service, because the three-month period—agreed upon without the provision of the promised supplies—had passed, and believing their pledge was therefore freed, decided to cross the strait at Gallipoli. The Emperor attempted to restrain them, sending efficient ministers from Constantinople who, with the flattery of words and the soothing of gifts, might recall the barbarians as much as they could from their design of crossing. And fearing lest this should not be a sufficiently effective obstacle to the departure of those who were hated and feared, he dispatched to the same place, to mix force with persuasion, troops in a sufficiently large number, with the Grand Domestic Alexios Raoul placed over them as leader—whom, established in the flower of age, Michael the Despot had taken as a son-in-law, B burning with desire to fulfill the impulses and duties of the Augusta Theodora, who had neglected no art or industry in bringing about that affinity she so vehemently desired for herself. C When this man was sent, the Emperor, along with most of the imperial forces, gave orders: first, that he should command the Alans to return to the standards of the Emperor, and then that they should devote to the service of the Romans their arms and the horses they had received, along with their own bodies, which was why it was judged right that these be left to them. The Emperor commanded this, and the one sent for this purpose transmitted such things to those who were to say them; but the Alans, having once become rebellious, weaving also excuses that they were not able to remain and continue D for a time, having been worn out, but that after moderate rest they would return again—apologizing with these things to those men, they were crossing the strait. But they, suspecting the attempt against them, neither pushed across by turns, nor were they disembarking at the customary place of landing, where they had been standing waiting to trade with them for the time being, but at the same time they seized many cargo ships and, filling them, they were making the crossing, and at the same time they were disembarking, and at the same time the majority were arming themselves, not for open battle, but only so that they might...
escape the appearance of the disgrace they supposedly faced. A But on both sides, those around the Great Domestic, wishing to accomplish something and themselves avoiding the disgrace that would, in the opinion of others, weigh upon them as cowardice, armed themselves and mounted their horses. A rivalry and tribal skirmish broke out; for even if the armies differed in race, they were nevertheless led under one authority—the imperial—and the war was, so to speak, civil. Whence they vied with one another in skirmishes, casting pikes from a distance. The Great Domestic, therefore, observing the actions leading to an equal clash, and feeling insulted that, as if to provoke him while the Emperor himself was present—since he was such a man—they dared to fight him and resist the imperial command, took a lance in his hands and, carrying a shield and wearing a breastplate, rushed upon the Alans B as if just appearing would restrain them. And while he thus intended to settle the conflict, one of them, unseen, imitated Pandarus and shot an arrow at him; but with a different outcome than his: for it did not merely graze the surface of the skin, like Pandarus with Menelaus, but delivered a deep and truly lethal wound to the vitals of Raoul. When this happened, the multitude on both sides was brought to a halt, and pain beset one side, and fear the other. Those who regretted their impulse against the others, and those sensing the sort of doom that had been cast upon them, blamed those who had provided the occasion for the events, along with as much of the petitioning to the Romans as possible, and sought to apologize to the Emperor. For they feared, as was reasonable, that this would be the beginning of great evils for them while living in the midst of the Romans, and at the same time they were ashamed, if the Emperor, to the extent of his ability, had chosen to provide for the foreigners and held onto good hope, while they in turn returned such hospitality, repaying good with evil. For these reasons, they sent messengers to beg the Emperor, and they surrendered their horses and arms; and instead of armed men and cavalry, they became footmen and unarmed, until the Emperor again received them as suppliants, granting them pardon. But of these things, so much.
21. Concerning the Venetian ships that attacked the city.
It happened before these events, on the same month and day of the previous year, that there attacked the city from
A Aquileia thirteen Venetian triremes, yet not for the same purpose as before, but on account of possessions of theirs that had been seized because of the burning that occurred at that time. For when those whom they sent to Thessalonica, where the Emperor was staying, achieved nothing, they decided to pursue the matters concerning these things more effectively. And so, having prepared more than twelve triremes and added seven other pirate ships, they attacked Byzantium. Appearing at midday on a Saturday with the greatest bluster and bringing with them the impudence of pirates, they sailed into the harbor called the Golden Horn and, anchoring opposite the palaces, they committed terrible outrages against those living in the vicinity and set fire to a heap of grain standing somewhere there, not so much out of a desire to damage the owners as to insult them.
The Emperor, having no triremes of his own with which to oppose and resist this maneuver (for the naval force had long since been extinguished; and if any ships remained, they had been sent away for other needs, as if the entire fleet had not failed completely), was in doubt as to what he ought to do. B Whenever he looked at their audacity and the contempt they showed him, he thought it right to resist and to try to deal harshly with the invaders, and to teach them that they were attempting things beyond what was proper. But whenever, on the other hand, he looked at the killings that would result from such an attempt, and the empty resistance, and the inevitable danger, he was more inclined toward justice than toward that. For he felt that in not long those men would realize their mistake, turn back, and ask for forgiveness. He believed that for the Romans, it would require little labor and expense to build ships, if only he himself were to give the order; and even if their spirit were falling short due to the lack of triremes, he believed that he himself should order it, and that those who were puffed up would suddenly collapse and become humble. Thinking these things, he restrained the impulses of the many. But they, being jealous that these men had become so bold against the Romans, said it would be good to bridge the strait of Galata with fishing boats and cargo ships, connecting them together as if they were some sort of fastenings, along with the large ships that were found there, and by stationing archers and slingers on either side, to attack those within
A the middle of the sea, they seemed to be sufficient—or even more than sufficient—for those attacking, especially if they were to cast down stones from the walls to finish off and destroy them. But the Emperor, judging that the engagement would be dangerous to Christian nations, did not give way at all, but rather deferred and suppressed the momentum of the conflict.
21. Concerning what was done to the pirates at the Island of the Princes.
But they, having no further way to accomplish what they had intended, used the pirates as instruments of their own madness. These [pirates] made for the Island of the Princes, and they did not merely seize the long-time inhabitants of the place, but also a considerable number of people from the Peloponnese who had just escaped the hands of the Persians and thought they had found a refuge there. Having enslaved them, they plundered all their goods, and, keeping the people on board their ships, they threatened them with terrible things if they did not pay the ransom demanded, hanging them, torturing them in various ways, and holding themselves ready to slaughter them—a pitiable sight for those who, standing on the shore, hoped to receive mercy from the Emperor. For this reason, the matter caused no small distress to the ruler, that these wretched people, in fleeing the Persians, should have fallen into the hands of pirates; and they had no other way to feel confident except through those whom they had once counted as their own allies, to whom royal favors had often been granted. The Romans, standing along the shore, looked on at this terrible sight and wept over the disaster. B Some, indeed, in the bloom of their youth, rushed to arms, and, like Odysseus of old against Scylla, they directed their outbursts against them; yet this defensive movement existed in appearance alone. For the beach held those who were raging to defend them, while the pirates, being on the sea alone, vulnerable to capture and as weak as any could be—yet, by using the sea as a fortress in the way they saw fit, they handled those in their grasp in a manner that mirrored the story of Scylla, stretching out their hands to those outside and screaming pitiful, mournful cries. The day had not yet run its course, and what was reported to the Emperor stirred up his compassion; and so, having set a price of four thousand gold pieces for the poor victims, the Emperor, C when he saw that they could do nothing more, used the pirates not as instruments of his own fury, but indeed these [pirates] sailed to the Island of the Princes, and there not only despoiled the ancient inhabitants of the place, but also a recently arrived and quite numerous group of people from the Peloponnese, who had but recently D escaped the hands of the Persians and thought they had found asylum there; these they enslaved, plundering all their belongings. And not content with this, at daybreak they began to press the miserable captives, who had been dragged onto the ships, with heavy threats and tortures, so that they would pay the ransom they themselves had demanded, hanging, variously torturing, and showing themselves ready to slaughter them. These things were happening before the eyes of the Romans who were watching from the opposite shore. A piteous sight stood out in the middle of the sea, arranged by the robbers with that artifice, so that they might extort money from the Emperor’s mercy, by which he might save those unhappy ones from punishment and death. Indeed, the report brought to Augusta regarding these matters was truly bitter, and the grief not ordinary, as he considered the most deplorable fate of those who, having fled the Persians, had fallen into the hands of the pirates, trusting only in the fact that they knew they would be protected by the Venetian fleet nearby, with whom they had entered into an alliance of robbery—men, however, from whom nothing less should have been expected, had they any sense of gratitude, since they had been affected by frequent benefits from the emperors. But the Romans, dispersed along the shores, while they contemplated these things, cursing the horrible spectacle, deplored the unspeakable calamity with incredible grief. Some of them even, in the flower of age, ready of hand, rushed to arms, and just as that one did once against Scylla, so they too showed their impulses against the pirates. But that whole zeal for helping stood out in appearance only. For while they threatened in vain and consumed their rage in empty effort, the shore held them back; for the pirates were on the sea alone, where they could be caught, being in themselves the weakest of all, unless the sea, surrounding them like a fortress, gave them the power and confidence to exercise their greedy cruelty upon those they held, as they pleased. And they, groaning under the immense cruelty of those wicked men, represented the things that are told of Scylla, stretching their hands toward those watching from the opposite bank, and imploring mercy with mournful cries. Not yet was the whole day spent, when these things were reported to the Augustus, and they overcame his merciful soul, so that he agreed with those executioners concerning the ransom of the miserable people they were tormenting, and immediately, having sent four thousand coins to the pirates, he received all the captives from them. Which having been done, he sent to the prefect of the Venetian fleet, who might reproach that insolent madness and shameless audacity, because, when it was proper for him to send envoys to him when they had approached the vicinity of the city, and to set forth what he had to discuss regarding common affairs and his own interests, he on the contrary, with the duke himself—
A having assigned them as attendants to the brigands, and having joined in with them and collaborated in their savage depredations. When the Venetians heard this, they had no other excuse to offer than the mandate of their own senate; yet soon, moved by some shame, as it seemed, and struck by repentance for their most disgraceful actions, they subsequently offered themselves as suppliants to the Augustus, those who until then had stood as adversaries. They signified that they, who had been most hostile, were now inclined to enter in good faith into a treaty of peace, provided that the hostages were released. For concord with the empire, they claimed, was approved and pleasing to their republic; and they wished to renew it, voluntarily accepting the same conditions under which it had formerly been formed. Only one controversy stood in the way, concerning the hostages, and once that was removed, there would no longer be any impediment. They added supplications that the emperor should consent to the release of the hostages; which they also obtained from him, as he gladly agreed and deemed the treaty that they offered highly desirable for his own affairs at that time. He therefore sent an embassy to the Venetians to agree upon the terms of peace with them, as the most urgent calamity of the Persian uprising then compelled him, with those barbarians inundating everything far and wide, and holding the entire Orient, from sea to sea, surrounded by a single encirclement. But other dangers from various quarters also threatened the wretched Romans. And Mesothynia was announced as having perished utterly, Muzalon, who had been appointed its governor, having been struck down in a most grievous disaster of war.
25. Defeat of the hetairiarch Muzalon near Nicomedia.
For in the month of July, on the twenty-seventh day, in the vicinity of Bapheus (this is a place near the illustrious Nicomedia), B Atman appeared suddenly and unexpectedly with his men, who numbered many thousands, C —but it would be better to lead the account back somewhat from its own beginnings. Hales Amurius, with his brother Nastratius, who had long been a hostage among the Romans, had allied himself with the Persians who obeyed Castamon and was harrying the Romans. And for a while, roughly around the Pontus and further inland, beyond the Sangarius, while showing signs of his impiety, he had kept away from the regions on this side for his own safety; yet he was later puffed up with more insolent confidence, and regarded our affairs with supreme arrogance, from the time when he killed Melec Masur, the son of the Sultan Azatine, whom he had defeated in war. This Melec, having for a long time been a companion to his father in a long wandering through the northern regions, after he had been released from the fortress of Aenos, as we have described above, and the latter had finally died, crossed the Euxine and arrived at Thymæna. Being then at a distance from the prince of the Tocharoi, whom they themselves call Kanin (this man then had the proper name Arganes), he won him over with gifts and drew him into his own favor. From that time forth he ruled those places as if they were his paternal inheritance, and subjected to himself those who were prominent among the Persians there, whom they call satraps. And they were indeed enslaved, willy-nilly. Amurius, however, the father of Hales, having sought the Tocharoi with prayers and promises and having taken up a strong force of armed men from them, fell upon Melec with his whole might to resist him; and having engaged with him in battles not once, he routed and put him to flight, and reduced him to such desperation of his own affairs that he determined, together with his wife and children, to flee as a suppliant to the emperor. Having set out with this intention for Heraclea of Pontus, and having proceeded from there to Constantinople, since the emperor had already moved himself to Nymphaeum—where, after he had refreshed himself for some days from the fatigue of the journey—with his wife and his... D
… A retinue, he set out for Nymphaeum, following the imperial guide as the emperor had commanded. But when he had arrived somewhere near Adramyttium, whether learning from another or suspecting it himself that his arrival before the sovereign would not turn out well, he immediately repented of his design. Taking advantage of an opportunity, he brought forward [his] grievances against the guide (who was Abrampax the grand falconer) and fled thence by night, not in the manner of a nocturnal conspirator, as one who would bypass the awareness of those with him, but openly and boldly, as if anyone were to approach him, he would immediately set upon him. He returned again to the Persians, and having gathered a people, he took hold of a reputation for his former and greater power. And he was strengthened and grew so powerful that even Amurius himself, judging that his own earlier recalcitrance would no longer serve his affairs, deemed it best to come to him as a suppliant along with his seven sons, and having appeased him with gifts, B then to serve him willingly. Having understood these things and approved of them as beneficial to him, taking his sons and a multitude of followers, he went to him in the guise of a suppliant. But Melec, still harboring anger from previous events and having in no way let go of his resentment, accepted the gifts but increased the unbearable labor. For when he had been brought in with the gifts, he groveled at his feet in supplication and implored him; Melec brought up his past deeds, bitterly reproaching and exposing him, and finally, taking a cup of wine as if to drink, he gave a signal which he had previously agreed upon with his men—that as soon as they should see him waving his hands in a certain way, as if yawning and stretching, they should suddenly draw their swords and cut down the suppliants. They, having acted promptly upon the signal they had seen, provided a fatal feast for Amurius and his sons. From that tragedy, Hales—one of the sons of Amurius—was saved by a certain divine providence. He burned with grief and rage, carrying about the bloody image of his cruelly butchered father fixed in his mind, and by day and night he persisted in the thought of avenging such an unspeakable crime, nor ever considering it possible to take any rest from that endeavor. To this end, having gathered a not insignificant force of Persians, he went about raiding and clearly declaring that he would either take vengeance on Melec or perish in the attempt to do so. While, therefore, he was ravaging the regions with incursions and in every way seeking opportunities for battle with the enemy, Melec, not unequal in boldness for the fight—as his own fate urged him on—confronted Hali. Therefore, Hales and Melec engaged with each other and sought one another out most ferociously. But fortune deserted Melec: for his horse, at full gallop with loose reins, bent its forelegs and threw its rider forward onto his knees with great force; whereupon immediately, from that fall, he was pierced by a sword and died. This success filled Hales—who had now added his father’s name, being called Amurius as well—with great confidence. And suddenly, having gathered great forces from there, he infested the Roman regions with incursions, though not yet with much confidence or very destructively, but
A dissembling and lightly, until a certain divine vengeance (for by what other name could one call a disaster that then most harmfully and unexpectedly befell?) stirred up indignation against the Romans; this disaster I shall relate here. For since Hales, who formerly resided beyond the Sangarios, was being effectively repelled by the fortresses placed there—those fortresses which the Emperor Michael had established, and which he had skillfully fortified with a fence extended outwardly in a crisscross pattern of huge logs hewn from trees with an axe, rendering the space beyond the fortifications for one hundred feet entirely impassable and inaccessible to the enemy, as we have said in previous books, and this was for the Persian on that side an insurmountable obstacle to incursions—behold, in the month of March, the river suddenly changed its channel and sought out its ancient bed, where once the Justinianean bridge had been constructed. B Afterward, with the Sangarios having been diverted from there, the Melas, another river, had taken its place, not indeed equal in the mass of its waters to the former, but having enough depth for a time to sufficiently prevent the enemy's incursion from that deep water. Then, therefore, the Sangarios, having flooded from heavy rains, shifted from its own channel and again seized the one it had occupied long ago, and ran back toward its previous course; and where it had departed, it provided a crossing for any who wished, and where it had flooded and taken over, it did not provide sufficient depth in the channel due to the flood, but rather, bringing down silt from the red-sided mountains and significant gravel, it was adding a path for those who wished to cross. Therefore, those who had resided in the fortresses beyond, seeing this strange change and knowing that they were in extreme danger, abandoned them. Yet the river did not remain in this state for long, but after a month, having merely silted up, it returned. And this departure from the ancient course was the clear cause of the flight of those in the fortresses and of the enemy's crossing, providing a path to those wishing to cross without resistance; but the sudden return again provided easy C passage to those crossing in this way. Having observed this miraculous change, those who held the further fortresses as a garrison, terrified because they saw themselves deprived of the moat of an unfordable river and subsequently exposed to enemy incursions without equal numbers for resistance, and in certain danger of their lives, left their stations and departed. D However, the Sangarios did not remain long in that state, but when it had flooded for a month, obstructing the channels with a great force of earth and mud, it returned to the channel it had recently migrated from, as if it had moved only for this purpose, that it might strike terror into the garrison so that they would be driven to flight, while conversely giving the enemy both confidence and the means to break into our territory. For the movement of the river was the one cause of these two things, providing to anyone the convenience of crossing by a ford. But not even its return to the former channel served as a remedy for the evil. For it left both rivers silted up and passable by foot due to the magnitude of the embankment and of the material brought in by the flood. With these things having happened so unexpectedly, it is suddenly reported to the Emperor that the Mediterranean lands are full of enemies. For although Hales of Amurion, holding himself back under a certain pretense of peace, had hitherto remained quiet, yet he soon began to be carried away by emulation of the successes that followed shortly after of Atman, who was successfully raiding the vicinity of Nicaea, considering that he had rendered no small service to the Emperor if he kept himself to the observance of peace as long as others did not break into the lands of the empire. But that it was not fair that it be demanded of him not to claim for himself a share of the booty driven off by the plunderings of many others.
A Atman, therefore, having departed from the regions around Nicaea (for the setback which had previously befallen Muzalon had puffed him up even more), crossed the mountain gorges and was ready to raid the Halizones. But before he could invade them, a band of enemies, gathered together, not exceeding the number of one hundred souls, came upon Muzalon and his men unexpectedly as they were sleeping near Telemaea. These, as was to be expected when caught in such a state, they threw into the greatest confusion; and having seized much booty, and having also taken their horses from the palisades, they began to retreat. But when the Romans, having rallied, pursued those who were attacking, they occupied the mountain ridges known to them and from a place already secure began to shoot arrows at our men, firing from all sides from above; and they so prevailed over those who were pursuing them that they even captured and carried off their own leader, had not someone from the Roman phalanx, moved by a noble impulse, made a fierce charge against the barbarians, and, conducting the affair so bravely that he scattered them, and with only his horse wounded, rescued the prisoner unharmed. B This event, being likewise widely celebrated, more and more incited Atman and raised the barbarian to a pitch of arrogance: for his forces had now increased in number to such an extent that he even had other Persians from neighboring regions, who had joined themselves to him of their own accord, as allies and suitable helpers for carrying out raids anywhere. This also added to Amurius’s pride. This persuaded him to break the treaty, driven by a greedy emulation, because it seemed intolerable to him that he, at least, should be bound by the religion of the faith promised to the emperor and keep his hands from Roman plunder, while meanwhile others, having gone further off, were turning all of it to their own profit. But although Amurius certainly did not spare himself from C acting with whatever rapacity he could, nevertheless the damages he was causing to the Roman state could appear small if compared with the far graver ones inflicted by the more powerful Atman. For he was pressing on with his undertaking, ready for the business at hand, and girded also with new auxiliary forces of the most ferocious brigands, who, having been long since stirred up with cruel rage against us, had recently come to him from the parts of Paphlagonia, ready in their minds to destroy and lay waste to everything in their path, and leaving nothing undone in their extreme cruelty, plundering and leading into slavery clearly all the inhabitants of those tracts. These he had aggregated with his own old forces, and he had the whole army there with him. Standing opposed to him—the sole protection of the Roman frontier—was Muzalon; who, having reviewed his own men and having brought together into one place all that remained of the Roman forces and all the Alan forces, scarcely numbered two thousand soldiers in total, including both natives and foreigners. Yet the extreme danger looming over the Roman cause before his eyes and mind gave him the boldness and impetus to fight for hearth and home against greater numbers, with most of the soldiers not disagreeing with the leader’s judgment, although conscious of their own scarcity. And this confidence would have had success, and they would have prevailed, as most affirm, if either they had all clearly conspired in this noble purpose, or if they had persevered in it in concord and had fought in that battle with united courage, with all their strength and spirits. As it was, many of them, either indulging in their innate sloth, or having had the ardor for fighting vigorously—if indeed they had seemed to conceive any—cooled, remained sluggish and hesitant. Among these were those upon whom still burned the pain of insult, as they thought, and of the injury received when their horses and coins had been stripped from them and assigned to the Alans, by which they complained that the Roman military had been completely ruined; and, full of weariness and malice, they neither agreed with the others nor D prepared for the attack.
A And the enemy, moving underfoot and in a lopsided fashion attacking, circling around intentionally, struck with arrows; and they showed the infantry, who had previously been horsemen. But the cloud of infantry, gathering itself together and making its way forward, was saved. Those others, however, exposing themselves to the dangers for their own safety, fell continuously. And it remained for nothing that the Persians, having conquered and scattered, also overran the regions here and there, as the mass of people lay there for easy plunder in the great wilderness, devoid of those who might stop them. These things, therefore, brought about great evils for the whole land, at such necessary times—the time of the gathering of crops—with some being led away, others being slaughtered, and still others fleeing, if anyone managed to escape the disasters beforehand and entrusted his own affairs to some fortress.
26. The flight of those outside, with all their households, to the city.
B You would have seen then also those from the inner regions transporting their baggage, and offering a pitiful spectacle as they crossed over into the city, having already despaired of their own safety. And this strait received daily a swarm of men and animals, not without the greatest calamities for those who departed; for there was no one who did not lament the loss of his own: one woman calling out for her husband, another for her son or daughter, another still C for some other relative or kin. And all of them, lying miserably in the public square, D were prostrate.
C Some were within the city, others were outside along the seashore, wallowing in the dust, carrying the miserable remnants of their life and livelihood. Infants, women, and pitiful old men lying along the roads wounded and hurt not only those who saw the horrific spectacle, but also those who heard of such incurable grief. Furthermore, from that same place, namely Nicomedia, after the aforementioned disaster, the foreign soldiery retreated ingloriously; as for the native soldiers, knowing their homes were already occupied by the enemy, they wondered in various states of anxiety where they might find refuge and safety next. The D enemy, having gathered up the spoils of all the farther regions, pressed upon them and gorged themselves, wantonly abusing the captives they had seized, driving away droves of captive men, herds of cattle, and sheepfolds, along with plunder of every kind, especially the fruit of the crops, which they had harvested in the seasonal time and from which, with a lavish hand, they fed their beasts of burden using the many things they had gathered from all sides by pillaging; finally, with the greatest security, they transported whatever they pleased to wherever they wished. Yet they had not yet reached the lands closer to Nicomedia, not yet—as is likely—thinking they could safely break through there. [P. 232] They feared, clearly, that if they advanced, a sally might be made against them from the city left behind. They were restrained by the same fear, lest they dare to touch the suburbs of the city, as if they were sacred. Although this fact brought little relief to those dwelling there—who were constantly anxious with terror and experienced the things they had not yet suffered as if they were already present—the miserable ones nonetheless enjoyed, as they were able, whatever respite they had through that pause in the enemy’s incursion, and they consoled themselves by comparing their lot with that of the many other unfortunate people. For there was no better condition or more secure state for those remaining throughout the entire East as far as Atramyttium, where the emperor was staying; for everything further beyond, except for the most fortified strongholds, lay exposed to the enemy as booty. Only some more distant places around Achyraos, Cyzicus, Pegas, and Lopadium, which were a short distance from the sea, remained free. For Prusa and Nicaea, the war and the slaughter were already at their very gates, with everything that had been around those cities being looted and devastated on all sides. A dire calamity, not capable of being lightened by any consolation, had occupied everything far and wide, with all those populations having been utterly ruined in the span of a few months. And just as it was the result of divine wrath and just retribution from above for our sins that we should suffer such things, so it was right to attribute those temporary respites from our evils—which befell the Roman people, though they were protected by no garrison against the barbarians if they should come, as they were afraid to advance further—to the sole heavenly clemency and the mercy of the divine power, providing some consolation in the extreme disaster.
27. Concerning the trouble caused by the bishops and the man from Selymbria.
These things, then, were in this state, as we have said thus far; the bishops, however, could not remain quiet, nor could they desist from causing grave trouble to the patriarch, once again for the sake of John of Ephesus and his restoration. One of them (this was the bishop of Selymbria, whose name was Hilarion) even spoke some grave [accusation] against the patriarch in office—not then for the first time, but [concerning the time] when the patriarch was sitting in the monastery of the Pammakaristos, having withdrawn from his cares; and he maintained that he had not seen this himself, but had heard it from another who had seen it. But the author who was mentioned was already dead; and he had been, while he lived,
not having seen it himself, but having heard it from one who had, as he said. The one who had reported it was long since dead, a man uncouth and otherwise known for slanders. A But the accusation itself was altogether and utterly a lie. Nevertheless, the Bishop of Selybria, not entirely believing it himself—as he said, having received the strange matter in secret—entrusted the account to the Emperor. The Emperor, having heard it, deemed it a matter of great importance and took the report heavily; nonetheless, he felt it necessary to ensure that the matter remained secret, as it was both unseemly and, no less, false. For he had judged it worthy to protect himself against the suspicions of the many. Furthermore, he had condemned the one who had brought the report, as the end showed, for even listening to such a story in such a manner and from such a person. B Such were these things, and the high priests, because of the Patriarch's ambiguity toward them regarding the affairs of Ephesus, still persisted in their conflict with the Patriarch, and there was no true peace. There were those among them who were of one mind with the Patriarch and disagreed with the rest. But the Emperor, who in every way loved the things of peace, could not remain still; C he was assisting those who wished things one way, while at the same time he felt compelled to urge the Patriarch toward things that seemed necessary. Whence, he accepted those who spoke in favor of Ephesus, yet he held those who would split from the Patriarch over these things in great disdain and rebuked them, and he dealt with some of them more severely. I suspect, however, that the one from Ephesus was like Patroclus, and that this was being devised as a phantom of Aeneas, with the imperial resolve already leaning toward Athanasius, to set John aside, even if these things were still kept in the dark. D When that which seemed to lie under the tongue began to be whispered, and some, seemingly out of piety and superficially, began to hint at things concerning him—making the act of splitting from him appear more presentable to themselves—then the Emperor suspected the one who had first suggested this to him, fearing that he might have told the story to others, and even if he did not cause offense by saying it himself, perhaps by saying it to others he would smear him with reproach. For this reason, and trusting in the dignity of the Patriarch, he disparaged the report and made the one who had first spoken of it public. For it was a thing unspoken and unbelievable, and he greatly desired
A that it should remain hidden; yet since others were whispering about it, he himself, being B compelled, brings the accusation into the open, and does not release the speaker as an insulter of the cause. The Patriarch hears these things, and as is natural, feeling deeply aggrieved—since the one who originally spoke the words was not present, C as it was said—he heaped the slander upon the man from Selymbria himself, and complained to the synod, seeking justice for himself, even if that man, trying to conceal the affair as best he could, was saying that he had spoken differently.
28. The abuse suffered by the Patriarch on account of the slander, and his withdrawal
For this reason, the Emperor—for it was not becoming for an Emperor to be written down as a liar—being compelled D to refute the one slandering on such matters, wished for the time being to keep the affair from being brought out, and he declared to many how and when and what the one who had spoken had to say when he approached. Meanwhile, a great deal of scandal was rubbed off from this, as they contended against each other from both sides. And because of this, the Patriarch was suffering terribly from the abuse, and not only did he not accept the Emperor, who was stirring up the matter, but he also demanded A judgment from him—if they were willing to believe that they also judged the report, as they said, to be slander. For this reason, while all agreed that the Patriarch’s seeking of justice was fair, they were nonetheless divided regarding the condemnation of the one who had spoken; for they reasoned that he had not himself brought forth the report from the start, nor had he constructed it as an accusation, but had trusted it to the Emperor, so that it might remain B and be held in confidence. But as the Patriarch, wanting to establish a synod, frequently sent for the archpriests concerning these matters, some of them gathered and were ready to judge and condemn the speaker, as it was neither seemly nor otherwise proper to say such things to the Emperor; but others, feigning reasons for their avoidance, kept putting off their arrival and held out high hopes to the man of Selymbria. They did this many times, giving the impression that they too were feeling pain C at the Patriarch not being of the same mind with them regarding the affairs of Ephesus, such that they were in danger of being split. Then the Patriarch, ceasing to be pained by the things being carried out, since indeed he was waiting for the arrival of those men until the late part of the day, he...
departed with a sudden state of mental intensity rather than a moderate warmth of sorrow, saying for the last time to the bishops present that he would no longer hold a middle ground between them, whatever they might do, and adding an oath, as some heard. The oath A, in common parlance, was expressed thus: "I am a servant of Christ, and I shall not be among you, unless it happens otherwise." This meant: unless the one from Selybria were punished. He was then midway through the month of Anthesterion, and the day was the Friday before the Sabbath. Having rested a little in his cell, toward evening he moved with his own people and arrived at the monastery of the Pammakaristos, where he was accustomed to stay, leaving one or two of his own men to hold and administer the affairs of the patriarchate. These things he did, though it was not his intention to resign entirely and irrevocably, but he was merely doing what he had often been accustomed to do, hoping that he would be asked back, and that when those who were strongly urging him to return saw that he would not agree on any other condition than that what he desired be done, he would obtain his wish and resume the exercise of his power. In this pretense of refusing the see, however, he had now gone one step further than before; after a few days, he sent to the emperor a written formula of abdication, which was clearly worded in these terms:
29. Abdication of the Patriarch John.
"My holy lord Emperor, and you my holy masters the bishops, knowing myself to be a sinner, I did everything at first to be delivered from sin. Or rather, I did little, for I mostly trusted in the inexhaustible sea of God's philanthropy, which God has poured out and continues to pour out plenteously upon the righteous and the sinners alike, and upon all His creation. Trusting in this alone, I contentedly spent my life. B Then, being compelled as God knows, by judgments which He alone understands, I was exalted to the patriarchal throne. Afterward, I was subjected to insults, known to all the people both within and outside the city. I was deeply aggrieved by these things, not for the sake of my own person, God knows, but for the sake of the whole fullness of the Church, of which Christ is the head and I, by His grace, am the head. Knowing, therefore, that it is neither fitting nor just to carry around the patriarchal dignity thus disfigured by insults, I was compelled to swear to abdicate it. And I now stand ready to execute what I have said; and I render these vows of mine, which my lips have uttered in my tribulation. For I abdicate the patriarchal throne; and that I may not seem to furnish any pretext for scandal in the future, I also abdicate my priesthood, which is to me in truth a great honor of no small value. C These things I make known to your divinely elected Majesty and to my masters the bishops of Christ through this duly signed formula of abdication; by which I also grant full pardon both to those who have injured me as well as to those who cooperated with them in injuring me, and those who allowed themselves to be led away into believing them. May God, who is propitious, forgive all of them this fault. Therefore, if
any harm result to souls or bodies, to the holy Church of God, or to the people of God, I am innocent by the grace of my Christ.” This text also bore the following subscription: “John, a monk, who was patriarch of Constantinople.” Having written and signed these things and sent them to the emperor, and having stripped himself of the patriarchal insignia, he remained quiet, persisting in what he had once decreed. The emperor, having received the resignation, did not even want to unseal it out of reverence, but intended to commit it to the fire, as he had acted on other occasions in a similar matter. However, when he was finally induced to hear it read, upon hearing the patriarch declare that he had taken an oath, he was in the greatest anxiety, and thought to leave the judgment of the matter to the opinions of the bishops. But at the same time, it also recurred to his mind that this was not a suitable time to initiate such a great affair, with disasters encroaching upon the Roman state from all sides. Why, then, should he involve himself in a new and most troublesome matter by sharing this abdication with the bishops and submitting it to their deliberations, when he was being overwhelmed every day from all quarters by alarming reports indicating that not just one part of the empire was suffering most grievously, but that all that it embraced by land and sea was perishing at the same time? For already the mainland had been given over to plunder, and the sea itself had begun to be infested by piracy, Tenedos having been occupied a short while before by pirates, who, sallying forth from there and having a secure refuge, allowed nothing safe for those navigating that sea and the inhabitants of the maritime coast A on all sides through their continuous marauding. And although these pirates afterwards, fearing lest that station should not prove sufficiently secure for them in the end, had withdrawn of their own accord, nonetheless in that same manner a graver evil had succeeded. For as much of the Persian forces as had penetrated into the inner parts of the empire’s lands, having built and armed ships, were raiding and cruelly harassing the Cyclades islands; and now at Chios, soon at Samos and Carpathos, and even at Rhodes itself, and many others besides these, they arrived with not a few ships, hostile, and had long since left the islands, once crowded with inhabitants, now nearly desolate and uninhabitable. Nor indeed was there any respite during this time from land-based marauding, nor was any short interval of recovery from severe toils and terrors granted to the most wretched inhabitants of the continent. But truly the heart of Romania, like a forest fully caught in a fire, was being consumed by the force of a flame that raged continuously and uncontrollably; and new calamities were reported every day, dragging the concerns of the emperor away from every other business. Whence he was compelled, dismayed by the fresh reports of more urgent disasters and dangers, B to abandon unfinished the deliberations he had begun regarding the manner of averting such grave evils, destined to leave these matters themselves unaccomplished due to the equal distraction of sadder concerns. This most deplorable state of the commonwealth now made the inquiry into the affairs of the patriarch difficult; wherefore he judged that a time suitable and appropriate for the business must be sought and awaited. C Such was by no means present then, when certainly, as it was, the cities and lands situated at the very gates and those closer to them, from Nicomedia as far as the Thracian strait, D and not in one part, but surging from all sides and in every direction, not only by land, but already also by sea, were suffering misfortune. For previously, pirates having occupied the island of Tenedos, held it as their own and used it as a base of operations, and sailing forth from there and perpetrating many of these terrible things, they would afterwards dock there again, returning. But then, after those men had departed of their own volition through fear, the Persian force, [P. 257] having built ships further inland, attacked and did evil to the Cyclades, at one time at Chios, at another at Samos and Carpathos, and even at Rhodes itself, and attacking with ships many others along with these, they rendered islands that were formerly inhabited almost [index: entries preserved] unrighteous. Nor was there any rest at all for those on the land and the continent from their toils, not even for a short time; for as much as they could, like the onset of a wild fire, they consumed the interior, and day by day new reports were brought in, and they were pulling the emperor toward themselves, and other anxieties were taking the place of the earlier ones without end. Now, to seek out the patriarch’s affairs from that source was difficult, and the time did not permit; but meanwhile he sought a time that was suitable and appropriate.
Of the matters concerning the Tocharian Couzimpaxis
Thence also [they] [were concerned] about matters at the doors and closer to 345 that which was by no means present, when certainly the cities and lands situated at the very gates and those nearer to them, from Nicomedia as far as the Thracian strait,
A since it was not possible to conduct the battles by war and by openly attacking them, he decided to deal with the enemies in another way. And Cuximpaxis the Tocharian, who had long been on familiar terms with Noga—and who was devoted to the superstitions of the Persians, and was counted among the foremost of the magi around him—later, after Noga was destroyed, having embarked his wife and children on a ship, set sail towards the eastern Persians; but, driven back by the wind, he fell into the hands of the Romans who were occupying Heraclea Pontica. Having implored the Emperor's grace, he was saved and made free, and of his own accord he embraced the Christian religion and was baptized with his whole household, and from that time he became familiar to the Emperor. At that time, therefore, the Emperor, attempting to devise something hidden and wise, saw fit to give his daughter in marriage to Solymampaxis, who was a leader of the neighboring enemies, B and after the marriage had gone forward, he also established him as a leader over those by Nicomedia, in order that through love and kinship some benefit might accrue to the Roman state, even if the foresight, A which was making use of marriages for the sake of advantage, and was hoping for firm results, did not bring about intended ends. For, even though by kinship they were drawing near, and at the same time this was also the case with the localities—the one, serving the Emperor, would provide for the Romans, and the other, respecting the bond of affinity and the agreements, would restrain his onslaughts—nevertheless, they did not achieve the benefit of the surrounding lands. Rather, because of these things, both brought upon themselves accusations: one, of breaking faith with the Emperor; the other, of disaffection towards the Romans. For the evil circulates from elsewhere; and this was the evil from Amura, another Persian commander, who by frequently raiding Mesothinia, rendered the grace of Solymampaxis of no use in the minds of the Romans, as if it held nothing. For the way of fighting by conspiracies and individually, man by man, was B by all means because there was not one single ruler. For this reason, the correction of the events occurring was considered difficult and almost impossible to the Emperor, with some invading from one side and others from another, and disagreeing in their judgments, and with the people [index: entries preserved] none accrued to the state. For although Solymampaxis did not begrudge adding some portion of convenience to the Romans, having willingly entered into a marriage privately useful to himself, and indeed, at the time of making the wedding pacts, had given no uncertain hope of his desire, upon the occasion of the new necessity, to live in conjunction with Cuximpaxis—not only in spirit but also by the proximity of place—and likewise, along with him, to look after the subjects of the Emperor for his own sake; so that at the time when the father-in-law, from the duty of subjection openly sworn to the Emperor, was providing for the Romans committed to his care by him, the son-in-law himself, mindful of the affinity and respecting the convention made, would repress the impulses of the Barbarians who were threatening to plunder and ravage Romania—although, I say, Solymampaxis seemed both to have promised this from the heart and to have wished to provide it in good faith, yet the result was such that, with the Romans sensing no relief therefrom, both labored under ill repute: the father-in-law, indeed, for faithless treachery towards the Emperor; the son-in-law, for an spirit towards the Romans that was C no less malicious and hostile than before. D Furthermore, the evil arose from elsewhere, namely from the other Persian commander, Amura, who, by his frequent raids at that time laying waste to Mesothinia, dulled the kindness of Solymampaxis in the minds of the Romans so that it seemed of no use. For such was the state of affairs at that time, that each of those Barbarian commanders, being instructed with his own forces and obeying no one superior in common, had his own private counsels, and neither the authority nor the example of allies obtained any weight with any of them. For which cause, the remedy for the evils then inundating the empire—through that way of a convention with one of the satraps—was considered by the Emperor as difficult and almost hopeless, especially since they could not all be included in one confederation, and with one or another of them ceasing, the others would prey even more licentiously and savagely, seeing one
A after another led to such a point that it would be profitable for them to continue the war, and if their leaders did not wish to fight, they would seek others to lead them, for whose sake they themselves, in fighting, would also profit. This state of affairs, when it happened with Solymampax, made the grace of the armistice useless to the Romans, as those serving under him meanwhile joined with others and did the same things to the Romans that they had done when they were previously under his command. But the evils that subsequently followed from this will be told in their proper place.
31. Synodal deliberations concerning the patriarch’s resignation.
But the Emperor, thinking it a grievous thing if he should abstain any longer from settling the Church (for he believed it good for Roman affairs that the Church should not be in a state of turmoil), B set aside his outward cares for a little while and gave his attention to the concerns of the Church, which was now beginning to tremble once again. He accordingly summoned synods, and gathered an assembly of holy men, as many bishops, clerics, and monks as were at hand, C and passed his days in their company, most patiently inquiring what it seemed ought to be decreed according to the canons regarding the patriarch’s abdication. When such meetings had been held for several days, those who had gathered began to split primarily into two opinions. For those who favored the patriarch did not think his resignation should be accepted at all, since they asserted it had been forced upon him against his will, out of a justified impatience at a most grievous insult; and because, having long asked for redress and failed to obtain it, he had been driven by a certain necessity to that final counsel, not so much having come to it voluntarily as having been pushed into renouncing his dignity by force. Wherefore, they said, it did not seem doubtful that he was prepared to resume and retain the patriarchal power, once he had been duly cleared—as justice demands—of the false charge of the calumniator, and properly purged of the stigma of the crime cast upon him. Nor, indeed, did they think the words which his perturbation, wrung from1 him in his sickness by the intense pain of his mind, D expressed, should be accepted as a true formula of an irrevocable oath. They maintained that he fell into this while seething in his soul with the bitter anguish of his wretched suffering, and not through the free judgment of a constant mind, as was necessary for establishing a religious oath in due form, and that he did not utter these things willingly and knowingly. The opposing faction was composed of those who accepted the abdication as valid and legitimate, and judged that the words contained therein possessed the certain force of an irrevocable oath. For they argued that even the man himself confessed this, who best understood his own intent, in the very written formula of abdication—John, by naming it a vow made by himself to God, which his own lips [had uttered...]
But those who had come for his arrival sent along with him the colleagues of his B assembly and two high priests, Nicephorus of Crete and Arsenius of Pergamum. These, having arrived, inquired concerning the abdication and the account, as on behalf of the whole synod and the Emperor.
32. Concerning the arrival at the patriarch John of Alexandria and his apology.
They unfolded books and put forward historical examples; at one point they brought forward Flavian, who swore not to accept the ordination but later accepted it; at another point, they spoke of Bianor in the time of Saint Basil the Great, the saints having healed the oaths of those men by methods of economy and spiritual condition. They said these things while discerning the opinions, and time was wasted on these matters. With difficulty, after much contention and a deliberation held under the Emperor as listener and arbiter, since it was not possible for their opinions to coincide, as much time was being drawn out, they decided to send someone to ask the patriarch himself what his opinion was, and what he said regarding both the abdication and the reputed oath; for they held that the piety and simplicity of the man guaranteed that he would say things beyond all proof, regarding those matters on which they were disputing with one another. And so they asked the patriarch of Alexandria, who was C himself presiding there, to come for his arrival. They sent along with him the associates of his assembly and two high priests, Nicephorus of Crete and Arsenius of Pergamum; these, having arrived, inquired of John, in the name of the general synod and the Emperor, what he himself felt regarding his abdication and the true meaning of the words with which he appeared to have sworn.
He, having summarized his apology as much as possible, sent it back signed in writing. And it said this regarding the very wording: "My master, holy Emperor, your powerful and holy majesty, as well as the divine and holy synod, through the most holy Pope and Patriarch of Alexandria and through the two high priests, has signified to me that I should make clear to your powerful and holy majesty what my opinion is regarding the statement that occurred to me, and furthermore also concerning my abdication. And there was no need for me to answer at all, my abdication clearly setting forth my will; but since I am only now with difficulty being asked, as D I answer this briefly to your holy and powerful majesty. For many years now, I had determined with myself neither to swear myself nor to demand an oath from another, nor to utter verbal abuse worthy of rebuke, but also not to wish ill upon anyone; and I have observed this until this day by the grace of my Christ. However, I have been accustomed to using these words to confirm my statements, by the usage of common speech, as simple words that are harmful to no one and have no force of an oath: 'By how much I have the mercy of God, by how much I am a servant of God, by how much I wish to die penitent.' And therefore, that which I pronounced to my brothers out of bitterness of soul was of the same form—I said it not as one counting it to obtain the force of an oath, but simply, as I have been accustomed to speak by long usage.
A And the saying was: "May I be a servant of God, if I do not go away with you"—that is to say, for the present, I depart from you. I did not, however, consider this an oath, having learned this, too, from our great Father Basil, who says in his Ethics that where we place "if," we do not signify an oath, but only "where." If anyone takes me to task for my resignation, as though in that document I had written that I was leaving on account of an oath, let him first of all consider that it was written out of extreme bitterness of soul, as I indicated there as well. Furthermore, I thought I was departing from the Church peacefully. But since it happens that the archbishops are scandalized at this, as not having proceeded canonically, if all forty of them should happen to agree to accept my resignation, B it would be well, and I for my part shall not speak at random, but shall withdraw from the Church, and the Lord will see to a shepherd for Himself, and me, too, if they should wish, I shall join them in conferring counsel about who, by the nod of God, shall govern His Church. If, however, some of the archbishops should dissent—even if it be three alone—not accepting my resignation nor admitting that it was done canonically, I shall continue to be with them, and I shall not depart from the authority given to me by the Holy Spirit, at once sparing the souls of those who have spoken against me unjustly and irrationally, C and at the same time providing for the churches, so that they may not be utterly destroyed by the departure of those who defend the truth. That I have been wronged both by your holy majesty and by the archbishops is evident; for eight months have passed since the time I was insulted, and neither your holy majesty nor the synod has exacted any vindication for me. However much harm may ensue to the Church from this, it will by no means be imputed to me, nor will a reckoning for this be required of me. These things I have written for the sake of security and send to your powerful and holy majesty. May she, governed by the hand of God, be granted as much security and tranquility as is necessary to provide for His Church. Upon receiving these letters, D it occurred to the emperor to suspect that the patriarch was not speaking these things from the true disposition of his own mind and judgment, but was carrying out the suggestions of certain others to whom, being endowed with episcopal dignity, the contention against those who were carried away by opposing designs toward him had already been entrusted. Yet again, having held a meeting, he communicates the reply of John to the synod; and since he who had resigned appeared to repent of the resignation he had made, he begs them to consult earnestly about what should be done in such a case. Then truly there flared up a fierce, if ever there was one, struggle, as both factions insisted stubbornly on their own behalf, those who were zealous for John vehemently asserting that it was the product of his soul, heavily afflicted and perturbed by grief, and not the result of free counsel and true judgment. And since he has declared that with three bishops alone
A he wishes it to stand, how much more just is it to believe that he stands with these, when so many are set against him? The others, however, who were resisting these, maintained that the argument was an oath—and an oath full of dread, and sufficient to debar one from the priesthood if it were transgressed. The emperor for his part leaned mildly toward these—to the greater part, it seemed, because of extreme reverence for the oath; but to the others, I believe, he also had his eye on the Arseniates, if he could find a way to make peace (for the schism of those people caused the emperor no small amount of pain, as he would show), to admit them. Or perhaps it was also for the sake of Athanasius, though it is unclear at that time.
Because these matters were drawn out for a long time and the bishops could not reach an agreement with one another, the matter of the decision remained in suspense, and nothing was accomplished by their meeting. For this reason, John was still commemorated, and his household continued to manage the patriarchate, even though before these things were set in motion, John himself, having sent certain reliable men through the monasteries and to the Church itself, had permitted them to cease his commemoration, as if he had already duly resigned and had departed from the priesthood entirely. B But they, awaiting what the synod and the emperor would determine regarding this, were by no means persuaded to keep silent the name of John.
33. Concerning the investigation of the Arseniates.
By now the emperor was seeing on one side the ease with which John repeatedly fell into resigning, and on the other side he was suspicious of the inflexible and extreme stubbornness of the Arseniates, as it appeared they would never be led to peace in any other way than if the governance of the Church were placed in their own hands. (For after Hyacinthus had passed from the ranks of men, those who were ensconced in the monastery of Mosele had many supporters on the outside, and they held their own dead C in honor just as they did the confessors, and through this they were drawing many over to their side). A certain thought came to him, one that had already settled in his mind: was it possible that these people’s affairs were pleasing to God, and he was the one pursuing what was far afield, and that perhaps, if these things were accomplished, nothing useful to the ultimate goal would result? And because of this, was the divine prompting that made John so indifferent toward being patriarch, leaving him to resign so easily upon any casual pretext, a path guided by the Divine? D Driven to distraction in his own mind over these things, and wavering as he was, when it was necessary that a third
A patriarch be proclaimed over two, and with he himself already refusing, and being shamed by the indecency of it, he determined to forestall them. And having sent in secret the Tarchaniotissa from the Nostongoi—who was a blood relation to John Komnenos B and held the same views as they did from the start—he brought her to him and shared his plan with her. Through her, he negotiated with them and sought out their leaders, especially the blind ones, Lazarus the Gorianites and Macarios the Peristeras, in order to consult with them on these matters. The nun, that old woman, presented herself to the monks, who welcomed her, and from among them, along with the blind men, those who were most prominent were chosen, and they were sent off, five in total.
284 When they had reached the Emperor in the dead of the night, with no one else awareness of their arrival, talk of these matters commenced. The Emperor, having nothing C more urgent than how all might remain blameless in these proceedings—that is, regarding both the ordination of the patriarch and the other matters—and how the bishops might be maintained in their honors (for the commemoration of Joseph had already been passed over), was most concerned by this, saying: "Lest a part once settled might again be stirred up, and scandals might live again, but rather that a full and complete peace might settle upon the affairs." For this, he said, was the object of his zeal.
The monks, however, regarding the future patriarch—how he might be voted for, how he might be ordained, and who he might be—said that he had already been found and was reasonably worthy of the matter, but they absolutely refused that the D bishops should perform the vote or the ordination, for they said it was not holy to allow those who had been shaken from the beginning to lay the foundation. Rather, those ones should be completely inactive and keep quiet until a patriarch was established who could examine their affairs, and they themselves, along with those others whom they held in communion, should perform the vote. And they ordained that the Bishop of the Marmaritzioi should be invited from the West—a man already aged, and of that ancient ordination, and who did not appear to have held communion at all with those who had been promoted in the intervening time. They were also suggesting
that they could not, to the end, cause a scandal to the Church.
By saying these things, it was clear that they had relaxed the strictness, in order, perhaps, to do what they desired regarding that strictness. B The Emperor, however, having once set it as his goal to win them over, did not cavil at these things, but set out on the undertaking, knowing precisely—as was also manifest—that it would be among them alone that what seemed blameworthy could be healed, having seized upon the notions of strictness as if they too had been suffering because of this from the beginning. Therefore, he placed the whole matter upon them with full confidence, and he was clearly going to focus on whatever they might do. They also secured the things agreed upon with a document. And the only thing remaining was for the bishops to be in agreement regarding the acceptance of the resignation of John, or if not that, at least to claim that the aforesaid [resignation] had been placed in their hands, [thereby] rejecting his pastoral office, even if he himself were to recall his priesthood out of repentance. C Now, those who were gathered disputed with one another throughout all the days and were of uncertain mind regarding John. But the majority and the more illustrious of them, placing an oath upon the aforesaid matter, disregarded that resignation entirely,
even if he should persist in it, and even if he were not to abandon it, A for it was not possible for the old man [Athanasius] to be reproached for being eager to be a priest from that point on, since he had not, of course, given satisfaction for the insult Selybriensis had offered him; for it was impossible for someone to be held liable for trial who had not stood in the manner of an accuser nor openly insulted him. However, Theoleptus of Philadelphia, differing from the whole synod regarding the reinstatement of John of Ephesus, imagining that the removal of the patriarch—who was of one mind with him on this—meant the total ruin of his own judgment, clung to this [position] firmly, and set as just grounds for deposition the case of the man from Selybria, for which he thought it necessary that the matter be placed under oath. But many spoke against this, and especially for that very reason, along with whom the emperor also deemed that what was said was a matter of the highest oath. Nevertheless, he said, if the patriarch should wish to take back both the throne and the honor in this way, he was ready to receive him again, trusting, I suppose, in the result, that he would not accept it, B and thus he would quite readily withdraw.
34. Concerning the notification and the argument of the counsel of Athanasius
[P. 246] But while matters were in this state (and God knows how these things actually came to pass), a certain monk, one of those who seemed to be devout and distinguished, Menas by name, surnamed Scoleces—known to the Church and also known to the emperor, who, according to custom, made visits to Athanasius, the former patriarch—this man, as the emperor stated and as all naturally believed, on the fifteenth of the month of Hecatombaion, as the day was drawing to a close, approached the emperor and requested the officials of the messages to report concerning him, as having something necessary to say. And they indeed reported it, but the emperor, being occupied with urgent business at that time, postponed the audience, sending and ordering him to wait for when he could be admitted at leisure. And he, remaining outside, as it was already night and he was sitting around, C kept waiting. D Menas, after he had waited outside the veil for a long time in idleness, addressed the ministers again, so that he might be admitted as soon as possible. But the Emperor, being admonished of this a second time, while he persisted no less in his undertaking, and only promising that he would call him shortly, the monk, impatient of the delay, said: “But what good will it do me to be called a little later, when the time to profitably announce what I bring—which is new and urgent—will have elapsed?” This remark of his was immediately reported to the emperor, which stirred up a keen concern to learn immediately what unexpected thing of no ordinary importance seemed to be brought to him. Therefore, he was immediately introduced, and being alone with the Augustus, he held this discourse: “My lord emperor, it is my custom to go to the lord Athanasius at certain intervals of time for the sake of visiting him. In accordance with this custom, having gone to him today,
I found the man A downcast and full of gloom, as far as one could conjecture. Therefore, as I asked him what was the cause of his dejection, he spoke thus, emboldened by the confidence I have in him: 'I perceive a divine wrath hanging over those who are here; and would that someone might go and inform the emperor of my counsel: that he should command all the monasteries, beginning from this very day, to perform all-night and fervent supplications, saying also that very litany for the protection of every city and land from famine, pestilence, earthquake, and drowning; and that they should do this today, and tomorrow, and the day after, and indeed always, imploring the divine favor through constant prayer. For in this way, I think, God might relax His wrath and become gracious to us.' Having heard these things, I B shared the account with the Metropolitan of Heraclea; and he immediately urged me to come to your Majesty so as to report what I had heard from the man. I am here, therefore, and I speak, and as it may seem good to your God-inspired Majesty, let it be commanded and done. But if you take this discourse into proper consideration, command the work to be begun immediately, in accordance with the injunction of the one who spoke. For he even commanded me to pray to God and to invite other pious men to this, as many as I knew to be intimate with him." The emperor received the discourse gladly; and the monk, having spoken, departed. But the emperor, turning over in his mind what had been reported, and reflecting upon the terrible threats of God which the speaker had ordered them to pray against, put aside his concern for famine and pestilence—as these occur over a period of time and at long intervals (for they could not be expected to strike within three days)—but as he took into his mind the thought of an earthquake and a drowning, he kept the discourse under [serious] consideration. He suspected, too, the message of the monk, as if it were blaming the lapse of time, for it would not even be possible, as he said, to accomplish [the prayers] from then on, unless perhaps the monk knew something of what was soon to come about. Such were the emperor's thoughts; but the discourse, I think, wished to signify something else, namely, that the dispatches to the monasteries could not be sent in a timely manner. C And as for the monk, he departed at once. The emperor, turning over in his mind what he had heard and pondering in detail the threatened calamities, dismissed his anxiety regarding pestilence and famine—which, as things stood then, could not be expected to occur except after some space of time, and certainly not within these three days—but concern for an earthquake and a submersion, which might happen immediately, seized him sharply. The monk's warning increased his suspicious fear, for he had protested so urgently against the delays in the necessary precaution against the impending evil, and had shown such fear that the supplication would be initiated too late. Because of this, anxiety kept the Augustus restless, fearing lest perhaps that man knew something more distinctly about the imminent moment of the impending disaster, for which reason he had occupied himself with such anxious haste to recur to prayers, and had persuaded the Augustus to order others to do the same. The emperor related that he had pondered these things in his mind, hinting, I think, at something else besides—namely, that he had first inclined toward deferring the dispatch of ministers around the monasteries to announce the prayers until a more opportune time than the dead of night, as it seemed rather absurd to disturb his own people and others at such an hour. Yet, to overcome this hesitation, a sharper concern pricking him within finally compelled him, as he himself said later in his speech. For this reason, he commanded the logothete of the genikon to immediately dispatch...
to the monasteries those who would announce the emperor's command, to the effect that they should offer all-night supplications from that very moment. However, as for the instruction that they should also perform the litany and precisely what they ought to say, he at first dismissed this, judging it superfluous. But immediately, out of repentance, he recalled the logothete—as he himself said in his speech, calling upon that man as a witness to this—and ordered him A to announce this as well to the monks who were being sent. The emperor himself was keeping vigil and staying awake, as was his custom in such circumstances, but he was also preoccupied with thoughts of an earthquake, as he said. And when time had passed and he was on the point of going to his mother for his customary visit, suddenly—and he both recognized and spoke of it—a slight earthquake occurred, so slight that it was barely perceptible even to one who was keeping watch. This, therefore, served for the emperor as a prelude and proof of the truth of what had been said; yet, keeping silence as he said, he observed and pondered even more than what had occurred. That night then passed, and the next one after it, and on the seventeenth in the morning a stronger earthquake broke out, though not so as to put anyone in danger of destruction B or harm. And immediately the emperor, in certainty, began to feel that the event had been foretold by divine illumination; he praised the one who had predicted such things very highly, not being able to contain his admiration, although he still kept the man's name hidden while recounting these things.
35. Concerning the gathering of sacred men and the emperor's interrogation.
[P. 249] Early in the morning, therefore, every holy man—bishop, clergy, and the most eminent C of the monks—was summoned, and the emperor, placing the matter before them for common deliberation, checked with the greatest care to see what they might think of that monk (for he did not yet speak his name) who had previously declared such things, thus conveying them. And to some it seemed one way, and to others another, since there was no way to know the person; so it seemed that it had happened regarding these things. Yet whatever one might say—he still did not declare the name—he was inconsistent with himself, having no firm ground upon which to stand D and rely for the truth. For those who learned that the one who had spoken was a monk admitted that the matter was a divine premonition, if he had indeed spoken it openly and as it had been heard; for if one wanted to deem any of those bound in the flesh worthy of divine gifts, he would deem a monk worthy above all others. But others called it the working of a contrary spirit, stealing the glory of God by grabbing beforehand what is fitting for God, as the great Anthony used to say. To others, it was assumed that it was possible to know such things from certain teachings. But all wished to build their judgment on the firm foundation of the man's identity, as it was impossible for him to be unknown, for fear that it might be fitting for every suspicion.
A That man might seem wonderful, blessed as he is; but we also reason that this prophecy happened not on his account, but for our sake. That he should remain hidden and, without being revealed, should reveal divine mysteries, besides not being glorious according to the Scripture, also becomes dangerous. And as for us, the just penalties will come around to us for having neglected them if he states the causes of the demonic message; thus, for him who remained silent regarding that which was foreseen out of providence, danger will arise. But to base the wonder on these things without stating the causes—and these not common to or customary for the world, but perhaps peculiar and clearly novel—would be for one to say such things to himself, thereby garnering wonder and courting glory. By saying these things, they were clearly B warning others, while also with great suspicion leaning toward rejecting the whole matter; which they did not hesitate to call the operation of an adverse spirit, stealing God's glory by snatching away those things that befit God, as the great Antony used to say. There were not lacking those who argued that such events could be foreknown and predicted by human disciplines from the observation of natural signs. Yet all sought, as a certain foundation for establishing a true opinion on this matter, to know the person and the name of him about whom they were inquiring, reasoning that as long as he was unknown by face and life, all manner of sinister suspicions would rightly fall upon him. Furthermore, some were saying that at this time, for understanding and declaring the misfortunes encroaching upon the Romans—and those the greatest of any we have heard tell of—we have no need of a seer or a prophet, since public experience amply demonstrates it to everyone. The only thing for which the use of a divinely inspired monitor would be wonderful and desirable is if someone, instructed from heaven, were to indicate the secret causes, unknown to us, of God's manifest indignation against us. Indeed, in a general sense we know, as many as are imbued with Christian disciplines and are fully persuaded that the world is governed by a fair and wise providence, that the wrath of God is armed against men by sins, such as the many that are committed daily; yet which one, specifically, of our crimes is punished by these lashes under which we groan today, is, just as it is unknown to us, most useful to be taught. For thus, by correcting it, the fountain of evils could be stopped. The counsel, indeed, of supplicating God that He might be appeased and take pity on us, suggested to those who are now most fiercely scorched by the lashes of divine vengeance, has nothing miraculous in it and exceeds no measure of common prudence. Perhaps something worthy of suspicion and above human comprehension could indeed be recognized in one who, as the unexpected author of such counsel, should arise in the midst of a people happy and most thriving in all the goods of nature and fortune, without any fear of adverse fate; such as we received the prophet Jonah, who set out from afar to do this, to those who suspected nothing less and were enjoying a blessed abundance of all things in total peace.
A They were urging the Emperor to reveal his face, and were visibly joyful if he were judged worthy of such things, receiving them as tokens of the philanthropy of God. But the Emperor appeared very reserved, guarding against the suspicions of the many. He wished to secure the opinions of the listeners, while they were yet free from passion, so that, having marveled at the matter as was proper, they might not have any cause to change their minds or feel shame, should anyone afterward choose to regret their stance, having learned the person’s identity. And so, the day was spent until evening, and night coming on persuaded the Emperor and those around him to yield to the night; and they broke up their swift assembly, having gained nothing more than what they had heard.
36. Concerning the Emperor’s speech and his journey to Athanasius.
B [P. 251] At dawn, the Emperor summoned not only these, but now also the pure and chosen members of the state, and almost all the monks, and decided once more to speak about this matter in common. As the golden triclinium could not contain the multitude, for it was very large, he went out from the portico to those standing below, where the holy men and all the palace officials were—there being very many of them. Having recounted many things, and having narrated in detail how each thing had been said and done, he at last marveled greatly at the man, while still concealing his name; and having brought the rest also to marvel, he set out from that very speech (for he had already prepared the stole, and the belt, and the head-covering, and the footwear) C on foot toward the one who was hitherto unknown. D He persuaded those who wished to join him to set out as well, not commanding them in an imperial manner, but leaving the choice to each man’s free will, except that he promised the great and good blessing of the man to those who would persevere to the end. For those among the elders who were unable to travel on foot, especially since it was winter and the terrain was muddy and swampy, he permitted them to mount horses. And he proceeded, while they guessed the road by certain signs. Some of the high priests and monks did these things, while others accompanied him on foot.
...infinite multitude, growing at every moment as it was joined by others in streams of people, all flowing together with zeal from every side, ready to go wherever the Emperor might command. Meanwhile, with the Augustus himself walking on, they at last, with difficulty, overcame the hardships of the winter road and reached the gates of the monastery, which they found—by some providence—opened and standing wide, having been shut for many years past. A
1. How the Emperor, with the bishops and the people, went to Athanasius.
The gate of the monastery where Athanasius, the former patriarch, resided, having been shut for ten years (lacking nine months), keeping him inaccessible and entirely alone for so long a time inside, was opened on that occasion; and not in a small or grudging way, such that the vast number of people would have to shove one another and struggle in the narrow space to enter, but clearly in such a way that the half-line of a certain poet aptly applied here: "the gates stood wide." B And just as the Emperor, along with the bishops and the most eminent of the monks, set foot upon the threshold, Athanasius himself emerged from his cell, dressed in his coarse cloak, wearing a hood woven of straw, and leaning upon a staff of reed, he came to meet them at the vestibule, with a great part of the populace rushing in at the same time. C And then, for the first time, everyone learned who this man was, so celebrated by the Emperor with such great and many commendations as one intimately admitted to the awareness of the highest mysteries of God.
And immediately all prostrated themselves before him in reverence, manifesting without any dissimulation the devotion they held deeply cherished in their hearts toward him. The ardor was greatest among the bishops, who vied with one another in acclaiming him patriarch and urging him to resume the governance of the Church and his former dignity. D For there remained in each of them the memory of past events and of those grievances from the harsh severity under which they had once suffered so much; but the appearance of those sad things had been dulled by the length of time and was now entirely erased by the present joy, by which their minds were made ready to imagine favorably that those former specters of suspicion, which had chanced to stir them against him, had been vain things. Wherefore, all of them, for their own part, with greater eagerness, having removed their caps and bared their heads, were suppliants in asking to be granted his blessing. Yet they did not obtain this; for he, excusing himself on account of his old age, the infirmity of his health, and his strength failing for such things, modestly declined the office, while yet promising that he would pray for them privately.
A And so, while they nonetheless persisted, he declared with such firmness of countenance—appearing to assert a matter he had clearly resolved for himself—that he would act in no other way. He merely offered his hand, which all reverently kissed as if they were to receive a blessing from his touch. Shortly thereafter, having spoken for a time in a manner suited to the occasion and having prayed well for everyone, he dismissed the people, yet in such a way that he might reserve for himself a handle, so to speak, for attracting them to himself, now displaying that he was earnestly taking up the task of caring for their affairs in the future and of procuring their desires and comforts. In this, the old man’s guile appeared greater and more profound than those who had been deceived by his superficially perceived simplicity could ever have suspected, or that so much art and sagacious industry could reside within him. For he had declared openly then that he knew how the license of injustice to oppress the wretched populace was rampantly unpunished everywhere, with the lesser being downtrodden by the greater and the weaker by the stronger, because no guardian of the poor existed. He declared that he of his own accord took upon himself this role of shielding those circumvented by the powerful.
The present emperor, immediately and dutifully approving of this, replied—acting indeed with his own pleasure and desire—that he was now imposing upon him, as the one most suited for this among all, the office of recognizing the vexations of the lowly and coming to their aid. Therefore, he should henceforth open the gates to those destitute of defense and admit those seeking recourse, whether one should approach him for some judgment B or for mediation before the emperor; for he who sincerely grieves for the calamities of others, that person truly cares for the sufferer. From there, it was of necessity a paving of the way for them toward that which they had desired to do, things which were then enfolded, but later were revealed, when there was no opportunity for some to take back what they had granted. Whence also, from dawn until night each day, people made their way without restraint: some, calling for judgment according to their need—with their adversary also being summoned to him, and with certain high priests present to make the judgment—while others, begging for the sake of mediation before the emperor, presented packets of letters, and each report was handed over to the ruler.
There was concern for the emperor from this point on, since the influence of John had henceforth diminished, and those who had previously appeared to stand by him were already inclining toward Athanasius; he therefore persuaded the high priests and strove to bring them to take up the responsibility of providing, now that Athanasius had already been seized of the oversight—namely, the care for people and judgment. For the hope of the remaining matters also drew him— C as well as the expectation that it was reasonable to provide for, and as far as possible to shield, the sufferer. From that point on, of necessity, it was a paving of the way for them to achieve what they had desired, things which at that time were enfolded, but later were made manifest, when it was no longer possible for some to revoke what had been conceded. Whence also, from dawn until night each day, men of every kind went openly and without restraint to Athanasius, some seeking redress from the unjust judgments by which they had been circumvented (these were relieved immediately, their adversaries and the judges being cited, and by the sentence of certain prelates whom Athanasius had brought in, old judgments were rescinded in a new trial according to the wishes of the complainants), while most sought to obtain something from the Augustus through the intercession of one so favored by him as a mediator, offering petitions to that end; dense bundles of such petitions were repeatedly brought to the emperor, and he himself willingly took each one into his hand and promptly and kindly dispatched them.
As the matter of Athanasius’s restoration proceeded with such success, a keen concern took hold of the emperor to add for him as soon as possible that which alone was still lacking for the crowning achievement. He saw that the influence of John had already cooled significantly among all men, and that no regard for his now utterly neglected person would stand in the way of everyone joining with unanimous assent to Athanasius, toward whom the princes themselves had already begun openly to lean. Therefore, the Augustus eagerly urged the bishops to finally bring the matter, which had advanced so far, to a full completion. Since Athanasius had already taken possession of the patriarchate D to a great extent regarding that part of the office which pertained to the correction of judgments and intercession for those in need of help, he should not hesitate to add to him the name and throne of the patriarch, whose ministry he was already fulfilling in a more laborious capacity. And in order that he might labor more and more in this, Athanasius spurred on Andronicus with a certain hope of rectifying things immediately (namely, by the help of God through Athanasius, who was most beloved to him, soon
good, as if things would immediately be well-ordered if Athanasius were restored to the throne. And he gathered the archbishops, clergy, and monks; and as for the deliberations, if it should be necessary to rise up, he regarded them as of little account, trusting in those preliminary instructions. For there was not one of the archbishops who, upon seeing and recognizing him on that first day, did not bow his head and receive him as patriarch and urge his ascension. But regarding the question of how he might ascend and when, if he should for the time being be willing—for even those who had previously been attached to John were now disregarding him—he A gathered them and asked.
2. Concerning the schism of the archbishops regarding Athanasius.
The archbishops, up to that first day, had been warm in their feelings, and with no conflict of opinion arising, those who were of the opposite view were conducting themselves well toward his thoughts. But then, submitting the matter to the crucible of their reasoning, some persisted in their previous stance and renewed their opposition to him; they brought forward both the resignation that he had made at that time as being discordant, and they put forward the fact that he had for so many years B—while he himself had resigned—directed the affairs of the Church, considering that it was not even righteous for one to be inscribed among the hirelings and to be branded as illegitimate, since he had held the Church for so many years and had performed very many ordinations. For, they said, one of two things must happen: either he himself is justified while the other [John] is among the illegitimate, or, if the latter was canonically installed and was canonically acting as a priest and patriarch, he should not be reckoned at all. And they suspected that the petition on behalf of the oppressed was a bit of chicanery, as if the many who were running together were doing so for the sake of help from the ruler, and that the honor of protection was of necessity being rooted in, even if it did not seem so to them. Thus, the archbishops being divided in two—some judging the priest's conduct and then justifying his being brought back, some of whom, even if they were of his [John's] ordination, were yet willing to be held accountable if he should so desire, while others did not at all endure to receive him, as he had at once resigned, and at the same time
A a third group was formed among these, who, ashamed of changing their minds, yet putting forward a plausible pretext for this, accepted the man as before to be patriarch. However, they stipulated that there must be the greatest security that nothing of the kind would ever happen again on his part—for those things were ruinous and, if one were to believe the canons, sufficient for the deposition of bishops. While they said these things, they contended for entire days, and they did not agree on their opinions. B The Emperor, however, knowing that the bitterness and unyielding nature of the man, and his inflexibility even in trivial matters—which could indeed be conjectured, partly from his extreme search for precision in all things, and partly from his natural persuasion that it was useful to possess even that which was not useful—had become something different, so far as one could conjecture from many things, insisted. For he maintained that not even he himself, so much as those around him, was being forced by ignorance of mind to do what ought not to be done. And if he himself, having attained a strictness that became excessive in many cases, appeared to be standing in the way of what was necessary, he would appear all the more bitter to the Emperor, who was forced to do many things against what was expected and out of necessity. Yet, he accepted him, though this man was aggravating the wounds with great intensity or was otherwise soothing them. “For my part,” he said, C “it is one thing, and more precious than breath itself, that the will of God be done, whether it brings pain or not. Yet, even with joy…
I know that for many I shall not be permitted [to escape this], and I shall be grieved. Thus this bitterness will not—so he says—befall me before all men.” These things the emperor said, trying to lead them toward harmony. But he did not persuade them; for this was far from the case, as he seemed to be serving his own will, and they provided resistance and tried to pull back from whatever he said. For these reasons, discussions lasted longer than necessary, and the emperor deliberated on what must be done. [P. 260] For he heard both many men and those of the highest rank—on the one hand, those around the former patriarch John, and on the other hand, those around the patriarch of Alexandria, and as many as Isaac Raoul held with him, who, having previously been blinded due to the events that occurred, and having remained even until John within the schism of the Church B
3. Concerning the emperor’s visit to John and the excommunication that was pronounced.
And [P. 261] for these reasons he thought to depart to John, so that he might conciliate him, since he too, deep in thought, as he showed later, wished to see the emperor and by sending asked him to approach (at the same time indeed the season also called for it; for the entrance to Lent was approaching, and these were the days of Tyrophagy), he came to John with full eagerness. And, indeed, when he arrived, and with bishops also present there, shame discouraged the sovereign. It was this: he approaches John, and is overcome by the reverence felt for him, and presents himself as ready, if he should wish to give his blessing. But he, “But may God bless you,” he said, “and not I.” Meanwhile, he asks if he should consider him patriarch. And he, whether wishing to receive the blessing or perhaps also being shamed because of the season, so that he might not [be grieved by being refused, or whether…]he was feigning goodwill toward him to whatever end he might be acting—for the decision regarding these things belongs to the bishops, not the emperor—he conceded that he regarded John as patriarch. And he, straightway seizing the lion in his bonds, said, "And if I am patriarch, since the matters of my abdication have not yet been fully judged, but I am still commemorated in the Great Church and in many monasteries, I subject to the major excommunication of the Holy Trinity anyone who shall wish to install the lord Athanasius as patriarch." He said these things, and he openly condemned, just as he did Athanasius's perversity, also the deceit and levity of the sovereign, through which, having been unmindful of the former things, he was attempting them again for a second time. But the emperor, partly out of shame at the deception—and this, one springing from simplicity—and partly also managing these matters as a precaution to avoid ridicule, turned away without saying anything to him; but he was very much pressing and showing anger toward the bishops present who were suspected of having collaborated. There were present at that time with the patriarch the bishop of Ancyra, Babylas, Nikephoros of Crete, and Loukas of Bitzina. B However, wishing to correct his reputation, lest he might appear to have been excommunicated without distinction, having gathered again on the following day those whom he was accustomed to summon, he denounced the deception and laid bare the drama; he also slackened in his zeal for Athanasius, even if he too, having heard of the manner of Sapphira and Ananias, rubbed it in to John—who had given the priesthood to God, as he himself had written in his abdication, and was again taking it back.
4. Concerning the death of the Augusta Theodora.
As for the emperor, his mother was in grave health and was drawing her final breaths. On the Monday of the second week of the fasts, he saw the Augusta die—a woman adorned with many graces, C as the countless multitude of the needy, whom she fed daily, attested with lamentation, for their own hopes and lives were buried with her. And the sovereign was distracted from the matters that were then in motion by the pious care of rendering her honors as befitted a holy woman, and with greater magnificence. D And for the time being, the matters that were being agitated were left at rest. The body of the lady was brought out with most beautiful funeral...
A rites, as her own son, the Augustus, together with the chief men, the entire clergy, the monks, and as many of the state officials as were present, gathered together. Amidst much abundant light and diverse melodies—for the soulful songs of lamentation echoed along with the chants—and with a great escort and splendor, so that the entire city was filled at once with incense and with songs of triumph mixed with sighs, they carried out the corpse in weather of snowfall and mud. Nor did the Augustus himself fail in any honor, but rather, touching the casket, he walked through much mud and slippery ground until they reached the convent of Lips, where, for as many days as was fitting, they performed the rites for the departed, the Augustus necessarily deeming this occupation a priority.
5. Regarding the departure of the Lady Irene and the marriage of her children. But the Paschal feast arrived, and since the Lady had resolved to set out for Thessalonica, the sovereign became preoccupied with the necessary arrangements for this. B And first, he celebrated the marriage of his son, the Despot John, to the daughter of the prefect of the inkstand, Chumnos—a man who was perceived to be wise and exceptionally well-disposed toward the sovereign. Since she had been betrothed to John some time before by a religious ceremony, the Empress brought her son, the Despot, to her in marriage, for it seemed that she was to travel along with the Lady. On this account, therefore, there was on one side mourning C for the Augusta, and on the other, the marriage was hastily arranged for the sake of her son. But as the Lady was ready to depart—for affection for her daughter, whom she wished to arrive to see and embrace, was pressing her—the sovereign also went out with her for a few days, and after having everything prepared in accordance with his station, he returned.
6. Deliberations regarding the excommunication pronounced by John. And then, being released from many of those cares, he returned once again to the responsibilities D of the Church. And again there were assemblies, and again synods and consultations, and speeches and debates, primarily concerning the excommunication pronounced by John, and whether he had the right to excommunicate. Some thought that he did; for as long as he remained in possession of the patriarchate, as was apparent from the commemoration of his name, which was still being made during the sacred rites in the churches, and with respect to the view that this censure was valid and truly bound the person—it did not seem doubtful, since the Augustus, before it was issued, had professed that he considered John, its author, to be the legitimate patriarch.
A Thus were they. But those who had contended that John had fallen from the patriarchate by virtue of the oath which he had truly conceived, in order to speak and act consistently with themselves, plainly asserted that he possessed no patriarchal authority either before he pronounced the excommunication, or in the very act of pronouncing it. Wherefore they maintained that this censure was null and void. The thread of contentions was being drawn out without end through these matters, so that the emperor, weary of these eternal dissensions, desiring in a certain assembly of this kind to know what the opinion of each person was, after he had interrogated them one by one, ordered those who still considered John to be in the patriarchal dignity to sit separately, and those who denied that this, or indeed the excommunication issued by him, had any validity, to sit on the opposite side. B Having thus recognized and separated by location those who thought that John lacked pontifical power, he gathered them apart from the others in the famous temple of the Holy Apostles and ordered them to deliberate concerning Athanasius, hoping that, after all the ways to concord had been tried in vain in those many previous assemblies, he might at least be able to induce these men to favor the restitution of Athanasius, which he had long desired. Meanwhile, he himself, leaving nothing untried that might serve his purpose—so that he might remove the most troublesome obstacle of the excommunication issued by John, which was opposed to the business—did not cease to negotiate with John himself about revoking it, by repeatedly sending certain men. In this, he did not waste his efforts. For John, softened by the emperor’s prayers, which were so often reiterated, and furthermore offended by the bishops—who, since their own cause was generally the same as his in averting the restitution of Athanasius, had nonetheless benevolently agreed with him and advised him, while he had raised against them an insuperable rampart to keep them from the throne by brandishing an excommunication against all who would attempt to promote him, which they C thoughtlessly and ungratefully neglected to use until now, and thus provided him with a just cause for fearing that, just as they had betrayed their own security, so too, and much more easily, they might in the end betray his own honor through the imprudent levity with which they were rushing—assented to the emperor regarding what he was requesting, having sent to him the following writing: “My lord, holy emperor, and you divine and holy synod, and senate, and the people of the Lord who stand by and listen, all of you who are numbered in the clergy, you who are distinguished by the monastic habit, and the rest of the multitude. I, born of orthodox parents and educated in holiness, was first deemed worthy of the priestly honor, then having become a monk, by the judgments which God knows, I was raised to the patriarchal throne, by the good pleasure of God first, and then by the counsel, will, and opinion of your entire examining body who excel in dignities. And how I behaved myself piously and rightly in that office, God alone knows: for it is not expedient for me to boast, according to the divine Apostle. D There happened, however, in the meantime, scandals (of such a nature as you know), on account of which, so that no harm might be brought upon the soul of any Christian, and so that the holy Church of God might be established in peace and a tranquil state, I withdrew for a time from the throne and, shut up in my cell, I remained quiet. But since a doubt had arisen in me in that retreat as to whether this quiet of mind was good and approved by God, when I prayed to God that He might deign to show me what He desired for me in this regard, a certain divine appearance came to me, saying: ‘If you love me, Peter, feed my sheep.’ Therefore, for this reason I returned to the throne. But since again—
the scandals were being stirred up more greatly and the Church was being insulted on this account, I again stood down from the patriarchal cathedra for the sake of its peace. But since again there happened what you are aware of, and an excommunication was pronounced by me against the one who was about to promote Lord Athanasius to the patriarchal throne, because his ascent seemed to all to be grievous and burdensome, and you yourselves now do not accept this—this excommunication, that is—as not having been pronounced canonically, as you say, behold, I myself, as much as concerns the excommunication, I release it, and I hold it to be entirely dissolved, although I do not approve of his ascent. For how could I accept him as high priest, a man accused and deformed by infamy not yet wiped away, and finally, one of worse condition than I am myself, so much so that there is little missing that he should provide a just cause for doubting his religion, especially when, over and above all these things, he had long ago resigned the patriarchate ecclesiastically and canonically? I say these things to all and I protest. If anything should happen otherwise after this, you will see to it; for I have declared my whole opinion. But may the God of peace, who did not spare his own blood for his holy Church, himself bring about what is expedient for it, for peace and for the removal of disturbances.” The subscription: “The Abbot Joannes.”
7. On the gathering of the archbishops at the temple of the Holy Apostles on these matters.
It was the sixth day of the week, which we call Parasceve, but the first day after the twentieth of the month of August, which for the Athenians is Maimakterion, when the emperor received this writing. He did not immediately show it openly, nor did he wish to make it known indiscriminately to all. Having convened the archbishops and clergy, however, he signified the revocation of the excommunication; and he showed the writing of Joannes to some of them, in the part only that expressed its relaxation. The exception placed in the writing against the promotion of Athanasius, he did not think should be made manifest, lest it harm the business, deeming that the matter would flow easily from that point on, which he was urging, if only the removal of the chief impediment heretofore seen to oppose him were declared—namely, the excommunication laid by Joannes—although others also suspected that other no less significant obstacles were silently being opposed to this redouction of a man so deservedly investigated in the past. The Augustus, therefore, with the hope I have mentioned that it would proceed with a second course, desiring the reposition of Athanasius in the seat, commanded them all to come together again for this purpose on the following Saturday and Sunday, at the sacred temple of the Holy Apostles, having warned them that they should no longer wander about the sphere with the frivolous allegings of pretexts, but should make straight paths of concord, and that they should at last seriously take up this business of highest moment; for the matter, he thought, had proceeded to the point where no further delays seemed bearable. They did what was commanded of them thus far to come together in one place. But they stood as far apart there in the sentiments of their minds as they had approached one another in the proximity of their bodies: and now no hope or glimmer of agreement appeared for reconciling them among themselves. When the emperor, by those he sent, was inquiring what they were saying, on the twenty-third of the same month, about the middle of the hour of noon, he mounted a horse and reached the divine temple of the Apostles. And having associated with them at length, since there was not at all
C any expectation of persuading them to agreement, he took with him those who wished Athanasius to be restored to his see, leaving behind those whose inclinations were opposed. He went straight to the monastery where Athanasius was living, and, having adorned him as best he could at such short notice with the episcopal vestments, he himself led him on foot—walking slowly beneath the scorching heat of the midday sun, during the height of summer, as it then was, when the air was barely breathable from the heat—together with those clerics who happened to be nearby and any of the people who had flocked round, into the church. D Thus, Athanasius the bishop was again, as if by some clever device of a prophetic machine regarding the future earthquake which he was thought to possess, cast into the midst, a man who had spontaneously declared that he could not resume the sacred primacy. And he, having attained the goal for which so many clever daily schemes had been woven, did not cease, even beyond the end, to employ every artifice and effort to press for what he thought suitable for himself, however much these things might exceed his authority. But half of the bishops, together with some who were considered to be of the monks and a few of the clergy, firmly resolved to separate themselves from his communion. The following day, Patriarch John, having secretly prepared for his departure—so that nothing should prevent him from leaving the city without taking leave of the Emperor, as he had determined—departed with his own followers and set out on the road to Sozopolis. From then on, it became his habit to complain openly every day that he had been cast out of the Church by force, and to rehearse one by one many such things that he was unjustly suffering; and he continued to blame his own absence for all the calamities that were flooding the world, furthermore reproaching the clergy as if it were their fault if any evil occurred. Being confident that matters which had hitherto turned out badly could be amended by placating God with prayers—as if these events had been permitted by God due to [clerical] negligence and luxury—he insisted that litanies be celebrated in common. He also attempted to correct certain practices into a form which, as it seemed to him, was more suited to religion, which had previously been allowed to proceed according to a long-established custom.
8. Concerning Melitas
But enough of these matters. I am now about to deliver a narrative of a story terrible to tell and fearful to hear; I would have passed over the calamity, regarding it as the case of a single individual, and one not possessing in itself any reason to be justly included in public histories, had I not observed that beyond the private calamity, an example useful for the public was to be found in it. For by the commemoration of this, besides the wholesome horror that will be struck into us by the incomprehensible judgments of God, the duty proper to our nature will also be exercised—the duty of compassion, owed in many respects to the man of whom I speak, in whom both the flower of youth and many outstanding gifts and dexterity in action, proven by not a few tests, stimulate our common humanity to sympathize with his misfortune. He was a youth now first beginning to mature into manhood, named Melitas, who had once been raised in the intimate service of Gregory the Cypriot, the Patriarch, and instructed there in those disciplines which would both befit that household and adorn his age. From there he was ordained among the deacons of the Church, together with other choice men of that order, serving the utilities of the Church
A with the greatest possible sedulity and dexterity. He was moderate in the other parts of life as well, and beyond his abstinence from marriage, he professed virginity; he also gave no small proofs of great reverence for sacred things and of zeal for religion. And with the strength of his eloquence, he defended the causes of many in synodical judgments; he was also known to the Emperor, conspicuous among the clergy; in short, by all who knew him—by his very appearance and the approbation of his character—he easily wheedled a vote, at least a silent one, for his promotion to the higher ranks, of which he was thought to be abundantly worthy. B Eminent as he was in so many virtues, he succumbed to one vice: ambition. Running beyond what his family circumstances could bear, he launched into a splendor not adapted to his current means, and the left hand collected what the right hand poured out. In this, while he practiced the highly blameworthy art of clandestine racketeering, yet he carried out such a plausible distribution of such ill-gotten gains that the popular favor, sought by liberal largesse among the common crowd, hid the envy of his avaricious rapacity. No one of those receiving benefits, nor those who rejoiced to see others receive them, paid attention to how or by what compact those things were gathered; they only praised immensely the fact that they were given promptly and kindly. Following this tenor of life, and succeeding wonderfully in gaining reputation, he swelled with such arrogance that he could no longer contain himself. Forgetful of his station, he wished in the first place to have his own house, C resplendent and magnificent; he wished to use an oratory as if it were dedicated to him alone, and to have servants there to obey his every whim. And as he celebrated feasts there with ambitious expense and display, rivaling the more illustrious annual solemn panegyrics, he had great need of considerable income. Since his own family constraints denied him this, and since those secret and ill-spoken arts of surreptitious thieving could not replenish as much as those enormous expenses consumed, the scoundrel was stuck, D that is to say. Yet, not sustaining a descent from the station of esteem he had once gained—the sense of domestic defect—he obstinately persevered. Simultaneously, in the exercise of both hidden thievery and speciously displayed liberality, the ambitious charlatan and ungenerous seeker was active. But since this facade of unusual splendor had gained him great favor among many wealthy people, he did not refrain from asking for money on loan from them, which he promised he would repay in a short time. In this it was not so much a wonder that he found credit among those preoccupied with a great opinion of his wealth, as it was that he could persuade himself that mountains of gold would soon be at hand from somewhere, out of which he would settle so many debts. While he fed on these most vain hopes, and the creditors—with equally empty confidence in the payment promised for the day—slept in supine security, behold, meanwhile, these very resources, begged by entreaty, were slipping away daily through the unceasing loss of customary expenses. And just as fields occasionally flooded by the rapid rushing of torrents from the mountains—when the rain is soon checked, the sky is cleared, and the superfluous water has drained away by various routes—return briefly to their former squalor, quickly becoming dusty where but a short time before they had been overflowing; so this busybody, when he had swum for a little while, as if splashing in his own resources, suddenly found himself stranded on dry sand when the current dried up. Of those many threads which he had once tangled together in a complex weave, he was caught having at the end woven nothing for himself except, as they say, a funeral shroud or a mortuary pall. After the days of default had passed and the date had spread in vain, one and another of the creditors pulled his ear. The destitution of the debtor having been discovered, the others were warned and ran up in terror, clutching at him in crowds. It was then understood much more clearly that the man who had paraded such riches had no means not only with which to pay, but not even with which to live. Great amazement first seized the crowds who had long been gaping with most empty expectations of him.
A, and he was insulted by many who demanded payment. And the matter seemed to them like some dream concerning that man, and they repented of their deceptive opinion. From this point—and why is there need to recount the many details? Being humiliated, he fled; being dunned for payment, he felt pain; he was ashamed to confess his destitution; he was indignant at being made a public example; he could not bear the loss of his reputation; and finally, when he begged the patriarch through intermediaries that he might serve again, and not gaining his request, he was utterly distraught from despair; and a midday demon came upon him, and on the thirtieth day of the month of Anthesterion, having fastened a noose in his house, he ended his life by hanging. Such then are the matters concerning him; but to us, the remainder must be added, having taken them up again a little from above.
9. Concerning the corruption and insurrection of all things.
The regions to the East were collapsing and progressing for the worse, so that daily messages upon messages were arriving at the B Emperor regarding the most dire calamities. These were the things we saw with our own eyes, and we heard the accounts of the events being dramatized by those who had seen them, or rather by those who had suffered them—if any had escaped the evil by hiding. Between the enemy and us there remained only this strait, standing as a barrier, and we saw them freely crossing over and wreaking havoc on all the lands, temples, and most beautiful monasteries C, and burning the finest structures, luxuriating in daily slaughters and in abductions that held much evil and were of a kind never before heard of. The upper regions of Bithynia, Mysia, Phrygia, Lydia, and the celebrated Asia—except only for the fortified cities—were utterly destroyed. The authors of these things were the Amourioi, the Atmanes, the Atinai, the Alisyroi, the Mantachiai, the Salampaxides, the Alaides, the Ameramanai, the Lamisai, the Sphondylai, the Pagdinai, and every other name most evil and detestable. These men D, urged on by their daring from some strange and panicked madness, laid hold of everything like a wild fire and consumed it, reaching right up to the very sea, which alone prevented them from advancing further.
A These actions and deeds, accompanied by messages that crushed the Emperor one after the other, left him not even a brief moment of leisure for deliberation. And for him, indeed, there was absolutely no possibility of going out to meet the barbarians and opposing them with a regular army. For the Roman forces were not only weakened, but broken and utterly destroyed, having lost both their homes and their pay. Accordingly, fleeing from the East, they scattered in disarray and were each hastening toward the West, counting it as profit that they were merely alive, and for the sake of drawing their miserable breath, they would refuse to agree to nothing, no matter how shameful or servile. To hold new levies and attract others to the standards with promises of rewards was entirely beyond his strength, since there was no youth fit for military service at hand, and the credit of a treasury that was openly exhausted had collapsed. B There remained only the possibility of attempting, by means of flattery, a shameful and ruinous peace, inducing obedience to conditions that were disgraceful to us but generous to the Persians, however one might try to arrange it. Aside from the fact that the honor of the Empire and the esteem of the Roman name, hitherto so august, rejected such a plan, it was clearly evident that no matter how much effort was put into it, it would surely lack success, since there were so many leaders of these barbarians with such conflicting opinions that it was beyond hope that they could all be included in a single agreement; and if one were to gain the favor of only some of them, one would achieve nothing: for all their soldiers, eagerly panting after booty, would immediately join others from whom they might expect looting and plunder, and would inflict the same damages upon us under a new leader.
To those considering all these things, one single measure—grave, indeed, and unjust, but which the necessity that is the sole conqueror of laws and rights C showed to be somehow tolerable in the extreme calamity of the entire commonwealth—presented itself as a plan: that the pensions which were still being paid from the treasury to everyone without exception, even to monasteries and churches, and indeed even the very stipends of the Praetorians guarding the Emperor (with only one payment, called the *monocellicum*, being excepted), should for a time be surrendered by their current lords and possessors and turned into wages for soldiers to be recruited from wherever possible. Those who fed them in this way, by having their own pensions diverted to them, would thus seem to be fighting through the hands of their substitutes, even while remaining at home, and in so necessary a time, each would seem to be protecting both public and private interests, which served as no small consolation for the loss and an incentive for enduring the injury. The patriarch seemed to nod and approve of what concerned him, as far as what had been decreed about the monasteries and churches, by sending an olive branch to the Augustus without adding a word. D Because of the great estimation and reverence in which Andronikos held Athanasios, he took this as a sign of approval, interpreting it to mean that he should be confident—with no small joy in his heart—that a prosperous peace would soon follow the implementation of this plan.
But these matters proceeded no further than the initial design, as those to whom the execution of this decree had been entrusted were still absent. Meanwhile, however, the Persians, raiding from every side, put to the sword those of our people whom they were able to catch; others, who did not lack the strength for flight, retreated within the fortifications of Cyzicus, which had recently been built up into a strong position by Niphon, the bishop of that city—a man of action, possessed of intelligence, and possessing great experience not more in spiritual than in secular affairs. Within these fortifications, therefore, the Romans shut themselves in, together with their wives and children, as well as their animals and whatever remnants of their household goods they had been able to rescue from the barbarian fury.
A
Regarding Emperor Michael’s move to Cyzicus, and then his withdrawal to Pegai.
For these reasons, Emperor Michael, being unable to remain in Pergamon, broke camp with the forces around him and proceeded to Cyzicus. But he did not linger there either, for fear of the attack from the Persians that he expected because of himself. Therefore, departing from there as well, he arrived at Pegai, a city on the sea, where later, seized by grief and despondency over what had happened, he fell into a severe illness. He came close to perishing—indeed, he would have perished, for he had been given up by the physicians—had not the manifest mercy of the Virgin and Theotokos arrived in time to prevent it. It is not inappropriate to relate this in its proper sequence.
The Emperor lay breathing his last, for he had been seized by a swoon and was oblivious to whatever the physicians were attempting for him. B Need demanded that messages be sent to his father, the Emperor, and with all possible speed, but the conditions were against them; the sea was rising and the crossing was hindered. For some time, they barely managed to make head-way. The letters sent from there were more like tears than letters. They explained the illness, what it was like, the symptoms, how many days and nights the disease had been peaking, and with what remedies they were treating him, and finally, what his condition was, praying that he might arrive as quickly as possible, in case they might find the patient still among the living.
Upon learning these dreadful things concerning the Emperor, the Emperor C at once despaired of his son's life and was in suspense, expecting the very worst. Yet, he immediately sent physicians, and he also sent the most excellent of his own household. But greater still—or rather, to tell the truth, above all else—his confidence rested on the mercy from God and the All-Hymned One. He was the kind of man to act accordingly in such circumstances, to the extent that he firmly trusted in her and wished for prayers of thanksgiving to be chanted to her, even though the festival of the Resurrection itself was at hand. At that time, therefore, he prayed even more fervently, and he sent a monk D from the monastery to bestow upon the one lying there the oil from the lamp that gives light.
The monk, having disembarked from the ship, was a recovery for the one lying there. And before he had even appeared, the one who was already considered dead was inquiring about him, having suddenly had a favorable dream: a certain well-ordered woman seemed to be pulling a nail out of the part of his body that was suffering. "See," he said, looking at those standing by, "whether a monk who has disembarked on the shore is present, bringing gifts from the Mother of God." Those who were standing by immediately saw what had been heard, and the arrival of the monk with the holy oil, which was the recall to health for the sufferer, took place with the greatest divine manifestation and with a miracle.
11. Concerning the earthquakes that occurred in the climate of Rhodes.
Shortly before these things took place, on the eighth day of the month of Poseideon, an earthquake struck. In these parts it was unknown to most people, so that no rumble even signaled the shaking; but throughout the climate of Rhodes and beyond, it was indeed clear, and the most violent of any ever recorded. Whence Rhodes itself was entirely leveled, and reports were also heard regarding Alexandria and places similarly situated of the terrible evils brought upon them by it. Corone and Methone and most of the Peloponnese, and no small part of Crete, became victims of the earthquake.12. Concerning the Latins who came by invitation, and what deeds they performed.
In the month of Gamelion of that same second indiction, Constantinople saw—would that it had not—the Latin Rontzerius, arriving with seven personal ships and an allied fleet of Catalans and Amogavars, totaling A eight thousand in number, Pharendas Tzimes having arrived before him. B Now Tzimes was a high-born man, and those whom he led he had brought from his own subjects; he had come uninvited, to be an ally to the Romans against the Persians, if the Emperor should wish, provided the terms of pay were agreed upon. But Rontzerius had come in response to an invitation. He was a man in the full flower of his age, terrible in appearance, swift to turn to whatever he set his mind on, and fervent in his actions. Concerning him, I wish to say a few things as I have heard them; but if the account should deviate from the truth, the blame should fall not upon the writer, but upon the rumor of which he has made use. This man, in the Syrian Ptolemais, while that city was still standing and was renowned far and wide, had practiced in the fortresses according to the rule of the Templars. But when that city was captured—or so it was taken—by the Ethiopians, as we have mentioned in the accounts above, and the power of the Christians there was destroyed, he secretly stole funds from his monastery and, having constructed long ships, he became a pirate most feared by the Agarenes. C And feeling that many—who had of their own accord attached themselves to him or to whatever power he managed to establish—were at the end prepared to be his faithful followers, he lusted after new ventures, seeking wealth and stable dominion anywhere at all, and he was not truly concerned whether he acquired them justly or unjustly. Meanwhile, prideful in his riches and luxury together with those around him, and with forces abounding from the plunder of maritime robbery, he bade farewell to that order of the Templars and its habit; and having been strengthened by many ships in great power, he joined himself as an ally to Theuderic, the nephew of Manfred, who held Sicily and was rebellious against the Church with an hereditary and peculiar stubbornness of his own kind, and who was therefore waging a bitter war in frequent battles against Charles, and D by a contract of certain payment, he performed service in naval engagements. But after that war ceased and a peace was made through marriage agreements between those who had until then been hostile to one another—for the king’s brother joined to himself in marriage Catherine; and the Pope, declaring him Emperor without land, inspired in him the hope of recovering Constantinople by the right which he drew from his wife, the granddaughter of Baldwin—through these contracts, when Theuderic had also been reconciled to the Church, the Pope sent to him those who would demand from him Rontzerius, from whom he no doubt wished to exact penalties for his having impiously trampled upon the religious habit and the sacred profession. But he...thinking it neither honorable nor just to betray a man who had proven himself useful to him in times of necessity, judged that he would be sufficiently rendering him a favor if he set him free; for at that time he was not unaware that he was being sought out for punishment, and he intended to satisfy the Pope by showing that he was neither harboring him nor was he remaining with him. Therefore, he signaled to Rontzerius to depart from him and seek safety elsewhere. In these straits, he, being at a loss for better counsel, sent to the Emperor, offering himself and his followers, ready with a not inconsiderable force to conduct affairs under his auspices wherever he might command, and further entreating that he might not reject a suppliant who, if admitted, would prove neither ungrateful nor useless. In truth, Rontzerius was such as he described himself and as fame C spread abroad: a man full of generous and truly martial spirit, and of that amazing industry (which was his most prominent quality) in holding together the trusted and friendly brood of brigands over whom he presided; to whose crimes he would connive, and by the art of popularity would variously pander, yet always while maintaining the authority of the empire, he generally made use of them as strenuous and brave executors of even the most audacious undertakings, thereby having attained a very great reputation.
Meeting with such an embassy, the Emperor—who, pressed by the utmost necessity, had already begun to turn his mind to hiring mercenaries—thinking this a precious opportunity offered to him as if by divine providence, eagerly seized upon what was placing itself in his hands; and having sent diplomas protected by a golden bull to pledge the faith of his promises, D he signified to him that he would receive him on very ample terms and his [13. Concerning Michael the Despot, how he came under suspicion and was detained.] forces, already subject to him, into the auxiliaries of the Roman militia with suitable pay. Let them only come as soon as possible, and he himself, as a leader, would attain the dignity of Great Duke, for which he was eminently destined, along with a splendid affinity through the marriage of his own grand-niece, Maria, daughter of Asan; and his soldiers, for their part, should hasten in high hope of great stipends, which would be paid without delay, and they should know that for any other kind of service bravely rendered in war, they would not find their rewards wanting. These promises the Emperor made so deceptively and so profusely, because, as we have said, he could place no part of his confidence in the Roman army, for those who had survived from it after recent disasters, having crossed the sea from the continent of Asia to the West, and having been brought to such a state of destitution, were wandering everywhere, having become so base, with minds so cravenly dejected, that if they could bargain for a miserable sustenance, even by the lowest servitude, they believed they were being dealt with magnificently.
For which reason Michael the Despot also came into danger, falling under suspicion of a meditated defection. For when the Emperor had pressed him with frequent messages to hold a levy in his own territories and be present with forces for him—as a leader to be sent to Nicaea—and he had many times, through letters written in every direction, called to his standards those of his subjects who were of no effect (inasmuch as they, considering the danger of such military service, broken in spirit, were cravenly hesitant to comply), the Emperor’s soldiers, whom I mentioned earlier, now attempting to scout out the fugitives in his domain, after they found them broken cowed into the sort of humility of which I spoke…
taking it secretly and giving a portion to them. A The oath was becoming to an emperor, I think, and to him alone; for they were swearing B by the *despotes* of the time that they would be enemies to his enemies and friends to his friends. Now, when this was reported, the emperor, having gathered these and many other things, and because he was also living with the daughter of Terteris, began to suspect with concern a plot of treachery against him, and set the event for judgment, and condemned the man reported. But these things will be related a little later; at that time, the emperor was giving such assurances to Rontzerius. But he, having received the letters, so that he might appear a certain great man, did not wish to lead only as many as he had at hand, but, also desirous of prestige, he gathered others, buoying them up with hopes from the emperor, so that he did not even have sufficient ships to carry the recruited force, nor indeed money enough even to give preliminary payments on the emperor's security to provide the most part. On account of these things, having also applied to the Genoese, he borrowed on the security of the emperor's letters, as it were, twenty thousand C coins, awaiting the need for ships of those men for the passage of the people. In the month of Gamelion, therefore, as has been said, they arrived at that of Constantine. And the emperor, having received so great a host beyond his expectation, nevertheless, emboldened in his reasoning by the hope of the alliance, stood more firmly and exhausted his money upon them both, and all the treasures which the taxes from everywhere were filling—the stipends and incomes long since withheld from those serving in the palace, which the emperors of old were accustomed to set down as necessary wages for those serving—were emptied out upon them. But Rontzerius he honored highly with the title of Duke, and having magnified those D with him with his own titles, he established him as son-in-law according to the agreements. For there was indeed a need to show the use of enjoying many honors for those who had arrived, so that they would not appear to have arrived in vain. They were ordered, therefore, to depart for Cyzicus; for how could envy, or rather the attack, creep along as they intended, for a great number had gathered there.
equipped with both wealth and strength, and compelled to draw the Persians A to themselves, thinking they were in need of an alliance, as they were shut in on these accounts.
14. Battle of the Catalans and Genoese, and the murder of the grand drungarius.
As they were making preparations and were already at the point of departure, the Genoese who were in the city, who had for some time been demanding their debt, gathered together; for they did not think they ought to demand the debt from the Emperor, having lent it to others. But they attributed the burden of the debt to the Emperor, as it was for his sake that they had spent it. The Emperor, while not at first enduring this, nevertheless inclined toward paying it, and in order to cut short all strife, he sent Stephen Muzalon, the grand drungarius of the fleet, to quell the disturbance. But he was so far from accomplishing this that he was actually cut to pieces with swords, together with his horse. From this, a great quarrel grew up between them, as the foreigners occupied the monastery of Cosmidius, and B using it as a bulwark, while the Genoese there, along the shore, secured themselves with casks and shields and planks all around, and from there threw and were thrown against as if from a wall, so that many fell on both sides. When the Emperor had with difficulty calmed the tumult, they sailed off to Cyzicus for the winter. Having arrived there, they committed many cruel acts, sitting within the walls, extorting money, plundering livelihoods, assaulting the wives of the inhabitants, and taking control of both the settlers and any purchased slaves. For a time, Pharenda Tzimes, ashamed, as it were, of what was happening, and having frequently exposed both what benefits they had enjoyed from the Emperor and what things they were doing, and failing to persuade them, as they were barbarians, even when the leader himself was standing against him, decided to depart. Whence, having packed up with his own ships and his own people, he set off for home. But those others, still besieging the wall at Cyzicus and indulging in their own depravities, as to where they would end up doing such things, there was no one who did not know; for the Romans C indeed... D
were wasted by extreme consternation from the recent addition of these evils. A
15. Of the marvelous prodigy at Magnesia.
For me, however, having long grown weary of unlucky stories, there comes, behold, an auspicious opportunity to recount a marvelous prodigy witnessed among us. What I am about to say is so terrible to relate and so incredible to hear, that it did not long command my own belief; and I would have omitted it as an unlikely story, if not for the constant affirmation of many reliable witnesses which finally struck a sense of religious duty into me, ensuring I should not suppress in unhelpful oblivion a fact in which there stands clear proof of the Divine Providence regarding human affairs, and of His protection over us, however much His scourges may rage against us for inscrutable reasons. In this, moreover, is revealed a clear document vindicating the reputation and sanctity of the prince who once ruled over us with praise for his clemency—the prince about whom men had spoken and opined so freely. For God, to whom alone all the good and evil deeds of all are perfectly known, seems to have wished to show that he [the emperor] was approved by Him, with a clear testimony. B We have already previously related how the younger emperor Michael withdrew from Magnesia, which is situated by the Hermus. After his departure, the charge of this fortified city fell to others, among whom was the steward of the table, Philanthropenus, a man highly commended for his nobility, old age, prudence, and his experience in the outcomes of war. When this city had been entrusted to him as commander and governor of the garrison, and he was carrying out his care by remaining awake at unseasonable hours of the night and inspecting the watches of the soldiers, he saw, behold, more than once, a burning lamp circling the walls of the city. As this happened once, twice, and a third time, it caused the commander of the fort to fall into deep thought. C When he communicated this, as was natural, to those of higher rank, he drew them into the same state of astonishment. They wanted for some time to find out what this might be. Others were sent to keep watch in silence, but nothing more was revealed to them than what was happening. Among the others, the brother of the commander of the fort also went along, whom everyone knew to have been mute and deaf from birth. While the others could learn nothing more than what was customary, to him that marvelous and ineffable sight was revealed; and faith was added to the miracle in his case, for he who speaks immediately after being mute and deaf establishes what is credible [P. 279]. That man, therefore, waiting there, sees not a burning lamp, but a man dressed in imperial fashion, who appeared to treat their guards as of no account, and who said that he himself held the commission for the guard. And at the same time, he spoke as if to one who could hear—for the deaf man heard immediately. He commanded him in a loud voice to announce to the guards that they should be as alert as possible and take care for their safety. And behold, a miracle followed the miracle: for he who just now had heard him giving the command, now, while he obeys the orders, begins to speak—he who was always mute before—and clearly announces to the garrison guards both what he had seen and what had been commanded to them, easily obtaining belief in the miracle by the reliable pledge.
A And that which was true also struck them, namely the guardianship of that king, the merciful John—or as a Lydian might say, B the *epistasia*—in which they believed themselves to be protected by God.
16. Concerning the valiant deed performed by our men at Sardis due to foresight.
The state of our affairs was indeed most dire. For those who were outside the city, unable to withstand the overwhelming reputation of the Persians, and because of this seeing their own people either being slaughtered or fleeing—some into cities and fortresses, others to islands, and others still to the safe havens on the opposite coast where they might find salvation—strove to escape while those remaining inside were in desperate need of necessities due to the destruction of the exterior regions. The Emperor, coping with these onrushing disasters as best he could, having despaired of those Alans C and his own troops, and being on shaky ground while relying on foreign mercenaries, turned his thoughts to procuring more certain aid for the Roman Empire from Cazan, the supreme prince of the Eastern Tocharans (whom they call *Cani*). He sent envoys to him, offering to seal a treaty of alliance through a marriage tie, and beseeching him, by the authority he possessed over the barbarian leaders who were most cruelly ravaging the Roman territory, to order them to refrain from such outrages, and to threaten that if they did not, he would take vengeance, and thus to deign to succor the Romans who were in extreme distress and nearly ruined.
Hearing such things, Cazan did not spurn the alliance; he accepted the marriage of the maiden offered, who was believed to be the natural daughter of the Emperor Andronicus, D and he promised amply and solemnly that he would restrain, and if they did not obey, would repress with arms, the wicked marauders. When this threat—the power of which they knew—was bruited about among the barbarian leaders who were plundering the Roman lands with impunity, all were moved, if not to desist entirely, then at least to moderate their savagery and exercise it with more fear thereafter. For, while many of them cared little for these threats, merely pretending to obey for a time (and even that not for long), a decree from the *Can* was circulated ordering a cessation of the harassment of the Romans.
The audacity of one among them, Alaid, was perhaps slightly less recalcitrant at this denunciation. He was at that time raiding Lydia, and, as if to invert the old proverb, was gathering the spoils of the Mysians from the Lydians. While engaged in this, he was suddenly struck by the rumor of the new alliance between Cazan and the Emperor, and falling into a state of anxiety regarding the security of himself and his own, he devised a plan to place in safety this booty, which was immense and for which he feared most of all. The metropolis of that province is the ancient city of Sardis, in which some of our men were still holding a fortress, valid in its site and once well-fortified, inaccessible on one side due to the obstruction of impenetrable massive walls, and defended on the other side by immense precipices; for which reason, even though the barbarians were numerous, they had despaired of capturing it, as it was held by only a few who did not dare to sally forth. Alaid attempted to negotiate with the garrison of this place, asking that, since...
A the fortress was very large and divided into two parts, they should concede one part to him, which they could do safely. For besides promising on the most solemn oath that they would do this without any harm to themselves, he also offered as a sure protection against any perjury they might suspect, the wall of the extremely strong fortress, by which the two parts of the single citadel mentioned were separated from one another. Hearing these things, our men did not indeed place much trust in the promises of the barbarians; but, affected by the tedium of a long blockade, for which they hoped for no other relief, and heavily burdened by the lack of goods which had necessarily followed the long desolation of the surrounding farmland, they did not think that the mention of any kind of agreement should be rejected.
The Romans therefore not refusing the meeting, they descended to treat more closely. The barbarians set forth what they wanted. They demanded that half of the citadel be granted to them, where they might have their property in safety, and from where they could sally forth against the enemy and retreat. The Romans were to keep for themselves the remaining part, fortified however strongly, and from there they could sally forth safely to agriculture and commerce, and innocuously store themselves and their goods therein, with everything around them now tranquil by the benefit of the present treaty and the constant goodwill of the new allies B who were dominant throughout the region. Although it did not escape our men, as they pondered these things, what an untrustworthy neighborhood it would be—like wolves with lambs—and how suspect the truce was for those promising them a life unharmed, while they were living nearby, in the meantime while they allowed themselves the license of overrunning others of the same race and kind to plunder, as they were accustomed to do, nevertheless, because, as I indicated, long excluded from water and agriculture they were now suffering from an extreme lack of life's necessities, they judged it foolish not to prefer even shameful and uncertain and hard conditions of a treaty to present destruction. They said that they would consent. Soon it was done, and C they took heart and shook off their fears, and those who had previously been suppliants were now back to their old selves, and they began to remember the past and plan to attack their neighbors. The scheme was indeed turned against them; for since the Romans were equally planning against them and were stirred by them toward this, they judged it more advantageous to act pre-emptively than to suffer. And so, having anticipated the plot, they sent a message to him who was then the commander of the Roman regiments, the primicerius, a man of rank in the court. And at night, having prepared a sufficient force, he attacked the fortress, and appeared to some as expected, but to others unexpected. Wherefore some willingly accepted him, while a terrible nightmare stood before those who were sleeping, and from that point, their hardships had overtaken them.
17. Regarding the return of Emperor Michael to the city.
The Emperor Michael, however, having recovered from his illness, was still at Pegae, and when the great duke came to him from Cyzicus, having D come to venerate him and to render the duties owed by a subject to the prince, the younger Augustus, knowing with the greatest sorrow how much he and his Italians had stirred up trouble in the manner of Cyzicus, [to admit] the unwelcome...
from the emperor, regarding the submission of the same, and while he was enjoying the sight [of it], the city was entirely inaccessible by command; for the things recently done by the Italians at Cyzicus had become known to the emperor and caused him great pain, and for this reason he had turned away from communion with him. A But when he had already regained perfect health, together with his Augusta [P 282], who had met him at Pegae, he crossed over to the West. And having spent some days in the western regions, since he had to return to the city and the father—the emperor—was pressing for his arrival, on the twenty-third day of the month of Hecatombaion, he arrived at Dripea. On the following day, the emperor set out, and all who were around the emperor set out, and the monks and all of the Church went forth, nor was the most prominent part of the state government absent from there. And then, in the middle of the road, the emperor met the emperor, and it was a lengthy meeting, and like some trophy-bearer, amidst many acclamations, he entered the city.
18. On the incursion of Sphentisthlabus B towards Haemus.
In this [time] also, Sphentisthlabus of the Bulgarians, who was, as one might say, king, whether provoked by the overlooking of his relationship to the prince, or again because of the reasons stated for the detention of the despot, his son-in-law, or even looking down on the imperial affairs due to the weakening of our forces—and as if elated by the fortune of the Romans—he began from that point to raid the fortresses around Haemus. And except for a few, some he captured by force, and others he brought over by agreement. C He was also expected to attack others, having combined the ease of the moment with barbarian arrogance. The emperor, however, receiving this as an addition to his troubles, considering it honorable and salutary to preempt the barbarian’s anger in those regions, hastened to send help to them as best he could, but nevertheless he also readied the emperor [his son] for the West, and meanwhile was harboring suspicions [concerning those] from there and the one in charge near Crunus, the son-in-law of Smiltza, Eltemeres, who was the paternal uncle of Sphentisthlabus (for he was blood-brother to Terteres), and held the rank of Despot among the Bulgarians. D Because of these reasons, the emperor, rejecting the alliance, [P 283] so that he would not also join with Sphentisthlabus, but rather might even assist the Romans if possible, tried to appease him with sufficient gifts, and with concern from the... [alt-version omitted] ...he accused the Roman fortresses situated at the ridge of Haemus, and, with the exception of a few, captured them either by force or forced them to surrender under conditions. It did not appear that he would be content with these, or that he would refrain from attempting others, insofar as the barbarian's ambition and audacity were encouraged by such a favorable opportunity to further his progress. The emperor, burdened by this accumulation of evils, considering it honorable and salutary to preempt in time the barbarian’s attacks directed at those regions, which he believed he was threatening, hastened to reinforce them by sending troops strenuously. But he also sent his son, the Augustus, into the western tracts. While this expedition was being prepared, meanwhile, suspecting lest Eltemeres, the son-in-law of Smiltza and exarch of the nearby region, should join hands with Sphentisthlabus in the war against the Romans—since he was a man of great importance among the Bulgarians, among whom he held the dignity of despot—[the emperor] sought to win him over with no small gifts, not despairing that he could thus succeed, not only so that he would not add his own forces to the brother’s son for the destruction of the Romans, but so that he should even fight on behalf of the empire. Thinking therefore that the largesse spent for this hope was well-bestowed, he offered Eltemeres, beyond the gifts being sent, annual pensions from his own treasury, and to this end he brought to persuade him his own mother-in-law, the wife of Smiltza, his niece by his brother (for she was born of the sebastokrator Constantine), whom, on account of their close consanguinity and the very intimate relationship she had with Eltemeres as his son-in-law, [he used] primarily.
A he trusted greatly—believing she could persuade and appease her son-in-law—and having sent her brother, Michael Palaiologos, he managed the necessary affairs in those regions. Now, Emperor Michael was expected to leave for these duties, for he was already preparing his own domestic and imperial affairs; for those who had been deprived of the revenues assigned to them in the East due to the incursions of the Hagarenes had retreated to the estates of the Despot Michael in the West, which his father-in-law, Emperor Michael, had brought from the West and, having bound them with fearful oaths and married him to his daughter, had grandly endowed and rejoiced in him as a son-in-law.
19. On the condemnation of the Despot Michael Angelos.
The cause of his tribulation and detention had indeed been foretold, but it must be stated more completely: some soldiers from the imperial cohorts, who had recently been driven from the East by the incursions of the Persians and had come down to the West with their wives and children, were invited by one of their number—by name Cotertzes—up to the number of one hundred, and as they approached, he received them, city by city, taking oaths that they would be enemies of his enemies and friends of his friends, and he rendered the same to them in return, establishing a mutual league and giving them many great promises. And this was done without any perception of it reaching not only the Emperor, but even his own intimates and those acquainted with him. But when this was reported by those around Cotertzes, the Emperor suspected a dire plot B and sensed the throes of treachery, and all the more so because his sister, who had been married to Terteris, had died, and Terteris held a lineage hostile to the ruler. For these reasons, in the month of Hekatombaion, he summoned the Patriarch, and he called together the archbishops and the clergy—the members of the Senate being present, and also monks and those from the body of the state—and he established the Emperor as judge over the Despot. The latter, having submitted to his defense, spoke much and tried to escape the accusation, but in the end, he was condemned and locked in the Great Palace on the thirteenth day of the month of March, he himself, his wife, and the children whom he had sired by the daughter of Terteris. And the Emperor gave his herd of horses and all his wealth and property, and his estates, to his son and Emperor. Not only that, but he also assigned his very house to the Despot John. Afterwards, he attempted to flee from there [the next page begins...]
A closed within the prison at the Blachernae.
20. On the peace of the separated bishops concerning Athanasius.
From that point, in the same month of Kronios [March], the separated bishops, weary of the secession and having been persuaded at last by the Emperor, who pressed them as much as he could, with difficulty softened their resolve and sealed their peace with Athanasius on the feast of Palms. Yet Athanasius of Alexandria himself, though often urged by the Emperor, held fast to his opinion and would not yield or consent to harmony at all. For this reason, and because they suspected that he did not even mention the Emperor himself during these events, they too wished to strike the name of the Patriarch of Alexandria from the diptychs, deeming it a terrible thing that, while he would not in the least—so to speak—accept them, they should nevertheless still consider him worthy of being commemorated.
For a time, even as they brought many charges against him out of spite and watched for a change in his opinion, they did not dare to strike his name immediately; it seemed improper in other respects, for without a significant cause having appeared, and one dealing directly with dogma, to cast aside the name of a patriarch would B perhaps provide the schismatics with an occasion for condemnation. They judged it wiser to handle the situation for the time being as if they were indeed about to cut him off, even if he still held out and would not accept the action regarding Athanasius. The arrangement was somewhat as follows: the patriarch himself would not celebrate the liturgy at all, so that the Alexandrian might not be commemorated in the diptychs while deacons were—as is proper—concelebrating, but that priests alone should perform the sacred rites without deacons. This was done both in the palace chapel and at the Great Church, and on other days, but especially on public and feast days, such as on the Sunday of Orthodoxy. When the Emperor had arrived and a large crowd had assembled, the patriarch did not celebrate, but a priest alone performed the sacred service—completely, silently, and unheard by anyone, as no one could perceive anything due to the noise of the crowd.
It was done in the same way during the Easter festivals. Later, on the feast of the illustrious martyr George, they again struck out his commemoration, having celebrated the liturgy in the church at the Mangana, which is dedicated to that martyr.
21. On the evils that overtook the eastern regions, and on the reports of others from various places.
The danger from the Persians increased day by day, so that the hopes of [salvation] were shut out everywhere. For what disaster was absent? And...
I pass over things far away. Let us look at what was happening at the gates of the city, in the very vestibules of the imperial palace. A If you were disembarking from a ship after having crossed the straits of the Bosporus, you were immediately greeted by extreme dangers of plunder, captivity, and slaughter. The entire expanse of the opposite continent, as far as the eye could see, was filled with the most savage brigands. They rushed about wherever they pleased, and wherever they wished, they pitched their tents and held their ground in safety. They had so little respect for Roman arms, or even for the fear of them, that they did not even deign to feign caution, to march in troops, or to observe any order; rather, they ran about recklessly in small bands, made bold by their contempt for us. And those solitudes of the Scythians, so celebrated in proverbs, were nowhere more truly found than right there on the coast of the Byzantine city, opposite the walls and lying before our eyes, with none of our people daring to show themselves. Whatever the necessity might be—even the pressing need of those who remembered they had left behind in the country what they now lacked in the city—they would not go. If anyone wished to cast the die for a brief excursion, they were even forbidden by the magistrates, as if they were going to their certain death. Yet each person’s own fear was enough to restrain them, given the common examples of those who had dared to go out; for any [person] who was somehow familiar with the shortcuts and had seized an opportunity, when they least expected it, would encounter a barbarian leader hiding in ambush with his troop, to their own greatest misfortune. Nor did the success of a few—who, being few and unarmed, were reported to have escaped the hands of many armed men—encourage others to repeat such daring acts; for these were rare cases, and only fools would think it right to commit their lives to the hope of such [an outcome]. B There was no day that passed without hearing that the Persians had attacked one of the fortresses situated on the sea, and had either committed slaughter or taken captives at its gates. And—the most miserable thing—this happened more frequently on those days which we held as feast days, when we ought to have been properly offering supplications to C God to propitiate Him. We could see from this shore across the narrow strait, which was the only thing protecting us from death, the hostile cavalry and infantry taking secure possession of the field opposite. Each person would gaze in vain, as they sought to slip out of the city to look back at their villa or ancestral farm—the place where they had stored the grain they now lacked—quite certain that if they attempted to return, they would pay for their audacity with a cruel death. For corpses and severed limbs of those thus slaughtered lay here and there throughout the fields. Some, neglected, were breathing their last from lethal wounds. You could see bodies there without heads, and elsewhere faces severed from the neck. The city was overflowing with those who had fled from the countryside and was cramped by those lying everywhere at random in the open air, trusting in nothing but their breath to stay alive; for from this, famine and plague divided the wretches between them. D Even the city dwellers partook of the evil; some were immediately gripped by the terrible dangers and passed away helpless and at a loss, while others [looked upon] those things which had happened to their neighbors and expected the same for themselves. And they were [fleeing] not only from Chele and Astrabete, but also from the Hieron...
attacking the fortresses and perpetrating the most terrible things, as if the emperor were asleep or no longer among the living. Nicomedia was being weakened, reduced to a more helpless state by famine and lack of water. A And the famous Nicaea was shut off, and having been stripped of the benefits of the surrounding country, it too was squeezed by lack of supplies. And now Belocome, now Angelocome, now Angourdes and Platanea and the Melangeia and all the surrounding [districts] were becoming desolate, bereft of those who dwelt there, [P 287] inciting lamentations from those who knew. Crulla and Catecia had suffered these things and worse. For as the way from Heraclea and Nemicome to Nicaea was blocked, and the old and accustomed routes were occasions of terrible suspicion and trial for those who had often been in danger, but the path by Cius, shady and thick-grown and somehow fortified in a disorderly way, B was open to Nicaea, it was then also [a source of] great fear and suspicion; for the people there were suffering the same things as the Chalcidenses and the Alizones, and those called Bebryces, from the Pylae and the Pythii. And those who had disembarked from the sea near Cius would wait out the day, trusting their safety to the night, and would arrive at the seashore there to use the voyage across the Ascania, and thus, arriving at the coastal gate of the city, they would make their way into Nicaea, since it was not possible for the gates to be opened at the time, because the enemies were pressing in and the Nicaeans were in the greatest danger. Because of these things, the one who held the empire, unable to check the calamity, sent a certain Siurus, a stratopedarches honored among the tzanerators, with some few [men] and some partial distributions of money, in order to recruit others there for military service. C When they appeared in the parts around Catecia, the people took heart, and were clearly hoping for safety. But that was [a cause of] calamity and destruction for them. For the enemies, in a great multitude, about five thousand, attacked by night, and, having escaped all notice, preempted the roads leading to the fortress. Those who had burst in from the other side were giving the Romans a pretext of flight toward the fortress, pushing them back toward the rear; for it was not possible to sustain the trial, where, even for those who had suspected it, there was not enough [strength] for salvation. D
And then those who stood their ground were slaughtered, while a hundred or more of the women and children A fell. A fine was also imposed upon them by the Emperor, on the charge of not having received the Great Duke, as the Emperor Michael had announced after his return [to the city] from that place, and from fear that they might suffer what the Cyzicenes had happened to suffer. For the things dared there were reported as intolerable and not even possible to relate. For lives were being snatched away, and women were insulted, and maidens were defiled. And he who had [money] was immediately plundered, counting it a gain if he might be spared by giving it; but he who had none was condemned by the suspicion that he did have it, and B he was tested with terrible hangings and tortures, bringing upon himself the charge that he was unwilling to provide for his salvation with money. And all their wealth appeared not so much to belong to the one who possessed it as to the one who had snatched it—for the Amogavars, for so that nation was properly called (originating, I believe, from the Avars), displayed C such behavior. Not only did the natives suffer these things, but, so to speak, the entire East of the Romans, because, having used the fortification as a place of refuge, all ran there, and it was a new sort of capture by the D enemy.
But the young Emperor Michael had specifically forbidden [the admission of] the Great Duke upon his return from there, for fear that they too might suffer what had occurred to the Cyzicenes—things clearly intolerable and more cruel than any atrocity. For both property and the domestic livelihood were taken away from the wretched citizens, and not only women, married or of marriageable age, but even immature little girls who had scarcely escaped infancy were corrupted by monstrous lust. And one who knew he had something to give, even if he offered it willingly to those demanding it, was plundered, counting it a profit that he was allowed to live after his goods had been taken; but he who truthfully affirmed that he had nothing was suspected of lying and was subjected to the most bitter punishments until he brought forth what was hidden, being suspended, stretched, and cruelly tortured by those who reproached him, saying he deserved to suffer these things if he would not redeem his life with money. In this whole wicked type of extortion, there was such impudent license among those Amogavars that by a certain law of rapine established by custom, whatever each man thought he possessed by the best of rights, the moment it appeared, the alien robber would most confidently claim it for himself as if it were legitimately acquired, and would wish to be seen as having rightfully usurped it. Nor did these things happen only to the natives or those born at Cyzicus, but indiscriminately to all who from the surrounding regions of the Roman domain had retreated within that fortification for the sake of refuge, as has been said. I pass over the mutilations of bodies and the slaughters and the every-kind of sordidness of crimes, through which those who had come to defend them were instead crushing the most miserable people, oppressed on every side by the immanity of their fury. The motive for the Amogavars frequently and openly doing these things was that they did them with impunity, as the Great Duke, whom alone they revered, was beholden to them, partly from a sense of gratitude and partly from fear: for they had received power from others who submitted to them voluntarily, insofar as he excelled,
A nor did he have the means to restrain them in the slightest, but on the contrary, let them do as they wished, even while they were provided with grain rations from the Emperor, and even if they accomplished nothing further and did nothing at all. But I must resume the narrative to make it more concise. There was a general here, Marules, and by virtue of his rank he was called a Grand Archon. He for the most part attended to that man [Rontzerios] and served him as his subordinate (for so the imperial mandate required), yet in the meantime he felt pity for his own men who were suffering ill-treatment at their hands, and indeed he even supported and comforted them. For that common evil also touched them, and even those enrolled as soldiers were in truth being deprived of their household possessions, as if they were peasants and migrants, and were being treated with contempt.
But they, restrained by the fear of the ruler and the danger considered to arise from civil wars, so that no irreparable harm might be done, for a time advanced with force and often struggled in their own defense. Eventually, when the approach of the enemy was reported near the tower of William, some did not hesitate to set out from every side together with their own general, Marules, to grapple with the enemy. Others offered hope that they would appear and fight as allies, but they did not cease their usual habits: they armed themselves slowly, and with difficulty equipped their horses, and were careful to keep themselves out of danger, as it appeared. And this slowness allowed those who were halfway along their path to succeed, and they alone fought the battle. But as the others arrived late, and those who had succeeded were returning, one could see the malice of the allies, and that they were behaving toward our men B not as friends, as was to be expected, but as enemies. For as they were returning, they encountered those who had triumphed in true experience of war; whom, however, the insolent newcomers did not fear to treat with such wantonness and mockery, so that they would take away the horses of those who were earning their equestrian pay, reduce them to the rank of foot soldiers, plunder them of their arms besides, if it pleased them, and not keep their rapacious hands from their private affairs and household equipment; finally, they vexed them with every kind of mockery, treating them as if they were nothing more than base rustics or fugitive exiles.
In such difficult circumstances, the constant admonitions of their leader Marules kept them in check, for he never ceased to impress upon them how inequitably the Emperor would judge any quarrel that might arise between the Romans and the auxiliary forces: therefore, they should prefer to put up with any injury rather than descend to civil war, which at such a time would be capital and entirely ruinous to the state. Yet this could not always be prevented, for under the keen sense of present insult, the soldiers’ spirits would sometimes expend their force and arms in vengeance, or erupt into threats—a fire to be inflated into a great disaster from these sparks, if it were not immediately suppressed by the care of the commander.
Amidst these events, an occasion for military action arose, when certain information was brought that the enemy had advanced as far as their vicinity. They were reported to have approached the so-called tower of William, a place very close to the Roman camp. An incursion against them was therefore announced throughout the whole camp. Marules stood among the first in the ranks with his men; and after waiting in vain for a long time for the Rontzerians, who were slow to run to such things, to be prepared, those two lazy and sluggish men, according to their usual depravity in all things, deliberately wove delays, sluggishly putting on their armor and adorning their horses, so that the danger of the first encounter might fall upon anyone else rather than themselves. C The Maruliani, as necessity demanded, valiantly attacked the enemy, and having routed and put them to flight, they returned as victors.
He [Rontzerios] was mindful of himself as they returned; and if weariness of him had seized them, he feared that they might take back what they had given, or even decide on something worse regarding himself. Moreover, he saw that the most direct and vehement method of provoking them against him would be if he, being full and overflowing with donatives gathered from the Emperor, were to dare to intercede and cavil, so that his own soldiers might not collect their loot by right or wrong and carry off whatever they had coveted. Therefore, he indulged them the most ample opportunity for this most shameful gain, conniving at everything, and not enduring to show by the slightest nod that he disapproved of whatever they had attempted; neither daring to restrain or rebuke them, as he freely gave way to their depraved desires, which broke out everywhere into most hateful crimes, or in any way intercept the booty they hoped for, however unjust and bloody it was. Although there was indeed reason why they could rightly be ordered to be content—with food supplied in abundance by the Emperor for such a long time, during which they had done nothing yet, and were still doing nothing to seem to have earned it—yet, that the entire indignity of this affair may be gathered more closely under the reader's view as if in one place, I will resume the narrative a little earlier.
There was a military tribune there, named Marules, accustomed to be called by the name of the dignity granted to him, Great Archon. He was entirely D occupied in observing and obtaining favor through the obsequies he rendered to Rontzerios: for so the Emperor had ordered him to act. Yet the same man pitied his own intimate companions and the soldiers of his own cohort who were affected by the injuries of the Rontzerians, consoling and even soothing them, so that they might bear more patiently the evils rampant against all who dwelt in Cyzicus—not even they excepted, although they ought eventually to have been exempt from these by the privilege of their military service—and that they might not use the arms which had been publicly entrusted to them to repel or avenge these injuries, as was easy for men to do, such as they were, brave and...
A eager to blame their own sluggishness and carelessness—they even attempted to commit atrocities, and determined to attack their own allies as if they were enemies. There was in them a certain cunning in this experience, as it showed, for they incited the seizure of spoils from these very sources. He who yielded and gave up the profit of the war was saved; but he who resisted in any way, being no less greedy than he was fond of liberty, if he were to be basely deprived of the trophy of victory after risking his own blood against the enemy, this man would depart, having accepted a vital blow, preferring to fall gloriously rather than to be ingloriously deprived of his spoils, as is reasonable. And these were the successes B they achieved from the approach of the Arcturus, when even some of them—not a small portion of the whole—having no more to do there than what they had already done, because the local inhabitants had taken to flight in the face of their present unbridled behavior, loaded their ships with ample cargo, especially of grain and the necessary provisions for food, and followed the troops of Tzimēs, setting out as well.
Those who remained, idling through the entire winter around Cyzicus, made the completion of the three-month period—for which they had received their pay—a pretext for their idleness, lest pay for the future campaign should be sent immediately after, according to what had been agreed upon with the Emperor. Because of these things, the one who led them to the Emperor, blushing as it were at their inactivity, made haste. C Dealing with their affairs as best he could, bringing back only the business concerning the pay and making his entreaty, and further wishing to satisfy the Alans, who were capable in the matters of war (for he seemed to trust them, since he did not even trust his own men), he returned quickly, having received some things from there and having been compelled to select others from the islands, so that he might readily accept the horses which had also been sent to the Alans as requested.
This was done. And he, throughout the entire period of Lent, testing and receiving those who were to remain—and acting with zeal for the one who had received the stipend—thus distributed D the pay individually. He dispersed the stipend to the Alans only sparingly and meagerly, three coins for each month, also adding horses from the supply of that kind provided by the Emperor. By this inequality of pay, he incited the fierce envy of the Alan nation against himself, every one of them openly grumbling that their services were valued so cheaply, while in the meantime much more abundant pay was going to others who were no more laborious; the outcome of which offense will be told a little later. Meanwhile, the Grand Duke appointed one of his own men as commander over the twelve ships he had—the kind of position they were accustomed to call "admiral" in their own language—and placed on board them many of the Italian troops, having [...]
A provided them fully with the pay he owed, for he paid the Italians three gold pieces per month each, besides the horses which had been promised to them, as he had awaited the agreement. This, too, stirred up a great quarrel among them, which was fanned by selfishness, as will be told hereafter. Having then appointed a leader over the approximately twelve ships under his command—a man whom their language honors as "admiral"—by order of the ruler himself, and having equipped a fleet from the Italians, along with their concubines and all sorts of items from the region (of which each man was in possession, and which they found difficult to obtain in the country), he sent them out among the islands, giving them the signal for his own arrival in Asia, so that they might simultaneously anchor at Anaea and join those in that region as allies. He tried to move those who had been left behind from Cyzicus, where they had remained so long, tethered by the ease of the region. And while he did these things, the Emperor, B wishing to avoid hearing of what those men were doing, as it contained nothing sound, and attributing all these things solely to the wrath of God against all, kept the patriarch of that time, who shared his care and exerted himself zealously to appease the divine spirit with supplications; and both entering in, they seemed to have confidence that they would achieve something by the perseverance of such duties. Whence through the nights, as the patriarch continued the litanies with his own people, the Emperor himself was usually present, keeping vigil, thinking that he would finally obtain some favorable success and overcome divine mercy, even if he exerted himself in that religion beyond his strength. And yet, the whole of the Roman state at that time hung upon those alone, as if, should they take action, something might be done. For he heard even the most terrible things about Philadelphia, and how Alisyras, besieging the city with the Carmanians and having previously captured the surrounding fortresses, was on the point of reducing it through famine and lack of necessities—for the famine was pressing: it was heard that the head of an ass was being bought for many shekels, and the blood from the slaughter of a sheep or pig was valued at a gold coin, being sufficient only as a small solace for the lack of the buyers. C Because of this, when Holy Week arrived and the month of Cronios was coming to an end, he sent his own sister, Irene, the wife of Asan, by sea to Cyzicus to serve as his mother-in-law, for the sake of nothing else but to appease her son-in-law and spur him on; for the season was suitable for a military expedition, and it was the perfect time, since they had also received, just recently, the pay for the soldiers and were fully compensated. When, therefore, she arrived after a few days, she did nothing of what contributed to the expedition, which
A they were not saying and doing. The Italians, too, yet again were shooting arrows at the Alans. The Alans themselves, for their part, wishing to while away the time of the civil wars out of their deep arrogance due to the pressing need, were also setting themselves in motion toward disputes with the Alans that were out of place. For zeal incited the Alans as well, because while those others were being satisfied each month with three ounces or two ounces, they themselves were hired for a small sum and seemed to be those thrown away by them. And toward these things, their minds were becoming estranged by certain differences and animosities. Thus, as it happened that some of the Alans were grinding at a mill, and some of the Amogavars, happening by their own innate malice, were attempting to use the mill, and laid their hands even upon the flour, a quarrel and contention arose from this through words for the time being, and some Alan, as it is said, threatened them that they would soon do to them what they had done to the great Duke and the Great Domestic. This, being spoken thoughtlessly, did not go unheard, and the suspicion of this remark intensified a terrible rage, and he, as if already having suffered by hearing it, defended himself. Therefore, in the night, many well-prepared men fell upon a few, unprepared Alans. These, having sparked the battle from this very point, protected by shields, and trusting in the safety they had, some at the doors of the houses, and others even unroofing the houses, firmly B preparing themselves, stood their ground and shot their arrows, and men fell on both sides. But the Italians prevailed, and the son of the one leading the Alans, Georgios, a man who was a grandee and skilled in battles, fell having been struck with a javelin, along with many others. And then many were wounded, many too fell, and they were compelled to break off [the fight] unwillingly. On the morrow, a hard battle was joined again, as the Alans, being arrogant and not enduring the most wretched death of their fallen comrade, were not in an acceptable state. And then, it came to pass, as is said, that three hundred of the Alans fell in defense. And these things were done on the ninth of Boedromion, when not even the Great Duke himself was in any way able to stop the war by appearing between the combatants. Nevertheless, when the calamity had abated, with many of those in the local area fearing for themselves, and with Georgios appearing after days to the Alans who had been wronged, the leader of the Italians was much [in evidence], appeasing the barbarian with gifts, even if he, for the sake of his son who had been killed, did not wish to receive them so improperly, but held anger in his heart nonetheless, so that he might fulfill it later. Pyanepsion arrived, and the Achyraus held them, numbering in the thousands, of which the Italian [force] were six, and the remaining multitude of the Alans were about a thousand.
The rest of the forces were Roman, under the great commander Maroules. The grand duke led them all, he himself assigning the pay, he himself providing it, and in the manner of an imperial general, leading and directing them wherever he pleased.
22. Death of the Porphyrogenitus.
A [P. 294] Upon the fifth day of the month, the guard beheld the Porphyrogenitus dead. For the disease of quinsy brought him to such a state that he was anything but a survivor. When this became known to the emperor, his haste, as was to be expected, was that he be prepared before he departed. Having sent men—for he did not deem it proper to see him [personally] on account of his condemnation—he commanded that everything regarding him be managed as he wished. And since there was nothing else for him to deliberate about but to prepare himself and not be troubled, he called for the patriarch and committed his thoughts to him. In the end, he was tonsured by him and named Athanasius, setting aside all those things he had previously not even entrusted to his own judgment, such that when he was questioned by the emperor’s messenger concerning his own son—the emperor asking if he wished to ordain anything regarding him, having added also the nephew—he answered sternly that he had neither a son, nor did the other have a nephew. B And having said this, he settled into rest and died the following day. The funeral of the deceased was prepared with great magnificence. For the emperor ordered that a great multitude of the priestly and monastic order, led by the patriarch—together with the bishops and all the clergy—be assembled. And with an abundance of lights, torches, and psalmody, he was conveyed in the middle of the day to the monastery of Lips, and thus, with such brilliance and expense—bearing nothing but the memory of his servitude to Christ and the name he had taken—he was buried according to the custom of the common people in the outermost sepulchers. And he thus ended his life, having exchanged his many-year prison for the tomb, just as Strategopoulos, who had been condemned with him, had done four years prior.
23. Concerning the Great Duke.
[P. 295] The forces of the grand duke, showing great confidence and boldness, moved toward Germe, brought there by the sure hope of capturing the multitude of Persians there and performing deeds of valor. But they, being shaken by the mere rumor of the enemy, as was shown, fled in disorderly and ignoble haste, abandoning the fortress. Those who were following, as they were able, satisfied themselves with those who had been left behind. Yet [if one must believe...].
the leader inflicted death by hanging upon certain of their number, for no other cause than that they had wished to recover their own property, which they had recognized among the Persian plunder, and to claim it for themselves. But whatever may be the truth regarding the cause of the act, it is sufficiently established by the testimony of many that about twelve men were, by order of the great domestic, strangled by hanging—whether to punish some transgression or to guard against the future and fortify his men with terror so that they might not sin. B At that time, the leader of that very cohort from which these men came—a man illustrious in military virtue, by birth a Bulgarian, upon whom the dignity of Grand Tzaousios had been conferred, named Chranisthlabos, whom Michael Augustus Senior had long ago taken captive in the war against Lachanas and kept constrained by fetters in prison, but whom Emperor Andronikos, having released him long afterward from custody and endowed him with the aforementioned dignity, had for a long time held as a military commander in those regions—this man, I say, it is recorded, was in the first impulse of anger wounded by the great domestic with his own sword, and handed over to the executioners to be suffocated by a noose; and he would undoubtedly have ended his life by hanging, had not many, running up in emulation, with humble entreaties and suitable arguments, and by alleging many merits and proofs of his defense, at length with difficulty turned the great domestic from his purpose of putting such a man to such a shameful death. C Furthermore, the same great domestic, passing through Chliara and the rest of the places along the road, hastened his troops straight toward Philadelphia, which was, as has been said, in extreme peril. Since, however, it had happened some time before that Tripoli was captured, the fortresses that were around that city were of necessity, by a peace made with the Persians under certain conditions, subjected to them in a manner, yet without the admission of a Persian, or rather Carmanian, garrison; for they with whom they had bargained were Carmanians, the most eminent and strongest of the Persians, kinsmen of the leader Alisyras. But the inhabitants of the fortresses, upon hearing of the arrival of the great domestic, being subject to such servitude under duress, sent an embassy to him while he was already staying, having pitched his camp around the Aulax, to implore him that he might approach with his army to assist them, now that they were prepared to revolt; for they claimed that, as soon as it was safe to do so, they would rescind the pacts which they had been forced into by great violence and, yielding to the times, had entered into with the barbarians against their will; and that, as they were Romans, once troops had been sent by the emperor and had appeared in their vicinity, they would immediately join them openly. He granted the prayers of the suppliants and promised that he would lead his troops wherever they wished—all the more readily because he felt that he was not a little confirmed, by this very offer of such timely aid, in hoping well for the success of this expedition. Therefore, so much the more eagerly did he prepare himself from there for a conflict with the Persians. D The latter, in turn, having learned through scouts of the approach of the great domestic moving against them, occupied the ground to go out to meet him, having advanced their army near the Aulax, where we have shown he had established his camp. A battle was joined there between the opposing battle-lines, more slowly and slackly than should have been expected from such numerous troops and from the immense apparatus of both sides violently clashing against one another. It is said, however, that Alisyras having been wounded in the very first volleys, and on that account having been forced to look toward flight, the Persians did indeed retreat, but at a military pace and without confusion or the breaking of their ranks. It was said that the troops of the great domestic did not pursue them more keenly and at greater length because these, divided into three parts according to their tribes and bodies (for the Italians, the Alans, and the Romans each held their own battle-line separately, as it were), were unwilling to mix with one another, as was necessary for strenuously pressing the retreating enemy, but watched one another, waiting to see if those who were in the front would rush in, as if they themselves were soon to follow. But as to who were the first to make this charge,
fear of ambushes deterred them, according to the known custom of the Persians, who were accustomed to settle in safe places and to receive those approaching incautiously; it was apparent that they would by no means abandon the use of this art familiar to them at such a time. And so, our men pursued the fleeing Persians with extreme caution and only shooting at their backs from a distance: yet, in this way, they killed not a few of them. B By this means, the Persians having been removed from there, it came about that the Philadelphians could breathe again from the evils by which they were being oppressed. For food supplies were brought in for them as they were in danger of starvation, and their spirits were bolstered to endure with patience, if any disasters should occur again, in the hope of similar assistance arriving, if awaited. This work was seen by the common people as great, and the relief of the Philadelphia siege was celebrated far and wide with huge applause, although the achievement was not by any means equal in its magnitude to the number and equipment of such great and expensively furnished forces. Furthermore, Alisyras, with his men, gripped by heavy fear—because it had spread by the opinion and report of many that he would soon die from the wound he had received—hastened to move himself to Amurion, after quickly establishing what was necessary for the protection of the other places he had occupied in those regions, in the vicinity of the camps of the allied duke, preparing for the recovery of the damage of war, and, for the present, having been received in danger of attack, he sought to secure himself as best he could on the way.
24. Regarding the Attaleiotes and the Magnesians and the Duke Nostongos.
The Great Duke, having lingered for a short while at Philadelphia, and having collected sufficient money from that brief stay, thought it was timely to think about his return. And so, after having secured all the fortresses around there with the Magnesians along the Hermus, he arrived. And then, the one who was previously and nearly a rebellious man, one of the imperial equerry stable-masters, Attaleiotes by name, as he had seized Magnesia without the knowledge of the Emperor and by his own orders, while managing it simultaneously with the local inhabitants, and not caring even about Nostongos the Duke, who was over his head, nor granting him entrance into the city—such a one, going out, immediately appeased the Great Duke with words and submissiveness, and honored him with a marital alliance; and at the same time, through him, he appeared faithful to the Emperor, and behaved as one subordinate and yielding to him C in whatever he might command. To Nostongos the Duke, however—even though he was actually in command as Great Hetaireiarch, and the Emperor had written of him as the Primikerios of the court—the things ordered or even done by the Great Duke were not agreeable or pleasing. Whether, therefore, he was indignant at what the leader of all things was doing to him in a manner unworthy of his rank, or whether he suspected that he ought to fear certain demands for money from him, from what he had collected and what was being announced, or whether for both of these reasons he feared the future disgrace—the rebel... D ...with me. For even though he remembered that supreme authority had been entrusted to him there by the Emperor, he was silently galled, complaining that he was suffering indignities and was not being treated according to the merit of his dignity and birth. Added to this was the fear, for which Nostongos deduced arguments from suitable and present signs, that he too might be required to pay huge monetary contributions, just as had been the custom with the others. Therefore, both the loss
A of the great duke, and the pretext which, as it were, tended toward the dismissal of the kanikleios, B kept him buoyed with optimistic hopes. The plan was for both of them to go together to the patriarch and through him to explain to the emperor their departure from the great duke, attacking many of the things being done by him with unsparing frankness. But these reports not only failed to persuade those whom they told, but actually caused the ruler to become ill-disposed toward them; for the emperor judged what was said by malice, not by truth, and he was angered and enraged with them, harboring flickers of envy rather than thoughts of goodwill on his own behalf. Regarding these matters, he refused one person’s request for things that were not a little useful, while the dignity of the office prevented the other from being overlooked by the emperor. Besides, the flight of Nostongos to the patriarch was in this respect a hindrance, for he thought he had total sanctuary, having been cloistered for the time being in the monastery of the Peribleptos. Hence, the ruler was often provoked even by his sister (for the things said had, in all likelihood, become known to her as well, and she was greatly abused, had not those who…
A hoped for compassion been released from the monastery. But the reputation for negligence was still seething, and certain things were smoldering against those close to the Grand Duke, should he be held in contempt, and especially by those who were deemed to be in positions of rank (for in the more critical areas, when one yields toward the worse, it is necessary that the rest also be distorted, unless someone checks it). The emperor then sent and brought both of them, and on a Lord’s day, the fourteenth of Maimakterion, after stationing those around him—with the others also present—he delivered a long speech. While seemingly berating Nostongos, he was for the most part defending the Grand Duke before the magnates, arguing that he had done nothing unworthily, neither by honoring him with promotions beyond what he had appeared to be before he was a great man, nor did the other [deserve] to be honored by him.
[P. 299] Now, when Nostongos had, some time after these events, come forth from his asylum, having conceived a certain hope that the Augustus would easily spare him if he saw fit to commit himself as a defendant to his clemency—while this very thing was being discussed in the halls, as usually happens—it was observed that the judgments of most of the magnates were leaning more toward the censure of the Grand Duke’s arrogance, C who had treated Nostongos, a Great Hetaireiarch, a man conspicuous in dignity and birth, with contempt and imperiousness, as if he were someone from the common rabble. When this growing envy had cast anxiety among the supporters of the Grand Duke, because they saw that he was now easily being despised and traduced by the nobles and the leading men established in dignity, and understood that the sentiments and judgments of the elite easily spread to the common people as well, and that there would be danger, if it were not met in time, lest in the common and unanimous conspiracy of both high and low he be made an object of hatred—they urged the emperor to come to the rescue in this crisis. Yielding to these requests, on the fourteenth day of June, which was a Sunday that year, he ordered Nostongos and the scribe to be brought before him in the midst of the nobles as he sat in the hall. And here, embarking on a sufficiently long speech, under the guise of inveighing against Nostongos, in truth he spent the greatest part of his discourse in clearing the Grand Duke before the present magnates, and in exempting from censure his actions and his own kindnesses toward him. For he directed a keen effort to persuade them that he had neither exceeded the bounds of liberality in heaping honors upon Rontzerios, nor had that man received anything from him that he should not have been judged most worthy of receiving, since indeed even previously, before he had arrived here…
he had been illustrious, and possessed nothing that he had not acquired. In the end, he did what the lion-tamer does, and tried to frighten the supposed lion with a dog; for he ordered the scribe to be immediately disgraced by the shaving of his hair and beard, and after bitterly reproaching Nostongos in public speeches, he finally stripped him of his honors and imprisoned him. And these things were done in this way.
25. Concerning the events which occurred at Tripoli by the Maeander.
A [P. 500] It is perhaps not amiss to describe the events at Tripoli, how, being a fortress in the eastern regions, and originally a place of little antiquity or importance, the Ducas and Emperor had fortified it with arms and annual provisions to protect it, and to secure it as a bulwark for Philadelphia, and thus established as credible the prophecy regarding Philadelphia—which claimed that it would never be captured from the time of the first flood onwards, as was rumored. For these reasons, the small city was emboldened, B and it disregarded the attackers. A But time measured the siege, and as many had surrendered, the people of Tripoli held out for a long time. Yet, gradually pressed by the lack of necessities and in great need of outside help, B and since there was no reinforcement near at hand, they decided to settle their needs by certain conspiracies with the Persians. Indeed, they even occasionally made truces with the Persians and received grain from them. And the habit of this commerce caused not only them to go out to buy the necessities, but also prepared the way for the Persians to enter the city [P. 301] without restriction to sell their goods. This having been done many times, it brought the thought of capture upon the Persians, and having held secret talks with traitors regarding the appropriate matters, they began to work against the city at the promised times. And indeed, having prepared their burdens with many packs, they hid the army somewhere very close by, while many entered the city at the same time. The commerce was of grain, and each of the pack-animals carried a pair of sacks C of the loads of war.A And instead of grain—as the saying goes—the citizens, having received the scorpion, were in high spirits, buoyed by the hopes of abundance and living in ease. Night was already upon them, and they were unaware; they hung upon their good expectations, while being in unavoidable straits. Therefore, that night, while the citizens suspected nothing within, those who had taken up the instruments of war began to beat them like cymbals. Terror fell upon those who had been awakened, and they were at a loss as to where to turn and how to escape; meanwhile, the others, having arrived with winged speed, battered the very gates to the ground with keys and bolts, and called upon their own men who were standing ready nearby to join the battle. And thus, in that same night, by a single impulse, they took the fortified city. Alisyras indeed used this as a most secure stronghold, and from it they would make incursions together with the Carmanians wherever opportunity allowed. Then, therefore, he, having parted from the Great Duke, entered the fortress, and was entirely in high spirits and elated by it all.
26. Concerning the Great Duke and those with Attaleiotes.
[P. 302] But the general who commanded the whole force, realizing that the pursuit was unattainable, turned back and attacked the fortress of Koulon B, where he also ordered many to be hanged after accusing them of various crimes. This was a fortress of the Fournoi. And they—for they had not surrendered to the Persians either yesterday or the day before out of necessity and in accordance with agreements made with them, while the forces were appearing—received him with open arms, and showed themselves to be in fervent repentance, grieved by the necessary fate of their defection to the enemies; yet he, while appearing to the others to forgive their failures, bore heavily upon those who seemed to stand out from the rest. Hence, he C indeed... having departed with a slow and well-ordered pace, which lacked the panic and ignominy of flight, and having arrived already in safety, as the Great Duke pursued in vain, entered his own Tripolis, and having set aside all worry there, he boasted even more fiercely and arrogantly.
26. *Concerning the Great Duke and Attaleiotes.*
But our supreme commander of the army, when he realized that he and his men were being fatigued in vain by the effort of pursuing the Carmanians, who were retreating safely with their battle lines skillfully arranged, turned back from this useless advance and moved his forces to the fortress called Cula, which had been compelled to surrender to the Persians when they held wide dominion over the Romans earlier. He found most of them there and, accusing them of having yielded to the enemy, or finding other pretexts, he put them to death by hanging. He did the same to another D fortress which goes by the name of Furni. And those unfortunate people, as soon as they saw that they could escape with impunity from the servitude agreed upon with the Persians, now that they had departed, were receiving the soldiers of the Great Duke, their liberators, with open arms, declaring with sufficient alacrity how unwillingly—compelled by supreme necessity—they had struck whatever truce they had with the barbarians; and they were showing sharp repentance for this act. He, however, did not pardon all equally, but with a mercenary distinction, he displayed mercy toward the common, impoverished folk by granting them pardon, but those who were more prominent, as men who possessed property and from whose death profit might accrue, he punished inexorably. Thus, he cut off the head of the garrison commander of that town, and took off others by various forms of punishment; among whom he sentenced the presbyter, the exarch of others of his order, to hanging. And it happened for him, hanging from the noose, that his spirit lasted for a longer time than was usual; which, being observed, some man in charge of those tasks—supposing it to be a divine omen, whether ordered or not ordered—severed the noose with an axe and rescued the condemned man from that danger. Following this, the Great Duke entered Philadelphia, and raked together many thousands of gold pieces from there; which, now, without any shame
A regarding everyone, he made manifest. Those who offered payment were, of course, freed by the true efficacy of the gold, but he who had no payment had death as his lot. This, in fact, was what happened to the wretched Machramas at Mitylene. For this man, being among the chief of the imperial servants, and well-known for his intimacy [P. 305] with the emperor, possessed dwellings along the Scamander. When the entire region there had been seized and devastated by the Persians who had occupied [Mount] Ida, and it happened to be deserted by its inhabitants, he himself, along with many others, managed to enter the fortress of Asos. Since he was regarded as more worthy than the rest of those who were there—and indeed, as was to be expected in such times of crisis, they were in need of one to command—they entrusted both themselves and the fortress to him. He undertook the leadership, though those who gave it to him did so without any formal commission from the ruler. Nevertheless, even in this position, he was not negligent in the care of those under his charge, and for a considerable time he busied himself with and held together those who had taken refuge there by fleeing to the towers. But when the troubles of the outer regions, being at an end, drew near to them, and they had no means to do anything noble, B yet—to use the common expression—the fire of temptations, having been kindled like smoke, was advancing, and those who gave the most, after much torture, barely managed to save themselves. These things were being done in the islands of Chios, Lemnos, and Mitylene as well. And wherever the rustle of gold was heard, whether it were a monk, or a member of the holy orders, or one of the emperor’s intimates and acquaintances, such a person was subjected to terrible hangings, and death—threatened before their very eyes by the slaughterer’s block and knife—was hinted at as a hidden peril. C When the destruction of the surrounding areas reached its end and was about to encompass them, and they had no means of performing any noble act, they decided to consult for their own safety at that very hour. They therefore took care to withdraw into safety; and for this, as for many others, Mitylene showed itself a kindly refuge close at hand. However, the transit was managed in such a way that the Asians did not migrate so much by the command and leading of their commander as by individual decision, Machramas not greatly opposing it, for he remembered that he ruled there by sufferance and without the certain authority of the emperor. But seeing the multitude consulting for themselves, and trusting that he could not hold the fortress alone with his family after it had been deserted by all its inhabitants, he too moved to Mitylene, leaving this place entirely empty. Not many days later, there arrived on the island a Great Duke thirsting for money, for the extortion of which it was necessary to find or invent reasons. Therefore, along with many others, Machramas was arrested and bound. The others, indeed, as each had gold hidden away to give, variously ransomed their lives; among them was one who was said to have administered public funds, who was forced to hand over as much as he had added to his own profit from that office, which equaled a sum of several thousands. A sentence was passed upon Machramas that he should be deemed guilty of death for having abandoned the fortress, though he was to be allowed to buy his life by paying five thousand gold pieces. He fell short of fully satisfying this sum by one hundred coins, and a little more, while another man was taxed in a similar way. After they had long been vexed in vain, unable to produce what they did not have, at that very hour the Great Duke ordered that one be beheaded before the eyes of the other. The fatal block is made ready, the executioner stands, holding the sword in one hand and clutching the bound hair of Machramas in the other, and thus adjusting his neck to the butcher’s stump, pressing down so forcefully that he displaced the cervical vertebrae from their natural position. Thus the wretched man received the blow by which his head was severed. This [spectacle]
had the effect upon the other condemned man that they say Medusa’s Gorgon had upon those who saw it, turning them to stone. For he, the poor wretch, having witnessed the grim slaughter of Machrames, was so moved that he begged the Genoese with many tears not to begrudge him the loan of a thousand gold pieces, which was the amount he lacked to satisfy the penalty imposed; and it was by their mercy that he was saved. C Shortly before these things happened, the defection of the Magnesians from the Grand Duke had taken place. To this city he had shown favor on account of their previous services to him—the kind of gratitude the Homeric Cyclops promised Ulysses, that he would eat him last of his companions—and he expected to strip this city bare just as he had the others. The citizens, however, were not deceived, perceiving from the man’s general rapacity what they were soon to suffer. This foresight of theirs stirred them to openly abandon the Grand Duke. From this it came to pass that he lost a vast amount of booty, gathered from everywhere, both in horses and in money, which he had deposited with the Magnesians, trusting them more than the others to hold it in safekeeping. This first fruit of the rebellion gave those D who had dared to rise against him a great capacity to sustain his fierce attacks, since they were immediately about to rush into vengeance against a man of such uncontrolled temper, whom they had so clearly provoked. For they thus held in their hands the very instruments and sinews of war—the horses and the gold—and there was no lack of brave men who fled there from various places, among whom was a not insignificant portion of the Alan forces. Added to this was an abundance of grain, stored in full granaries for a sufficient duration of time. By all these things together, Attaleiota was primarily encouraged not to hesitate to put himself forward as the moving spirit of this bold plan, knowing that if it were not successful in the end, a certain death hung over him. Impelled by this fear, he took special care to strengthen the conspiracy, binding the associates to one another by the firmest possible mutual pledge to engage in a deed of such a nature that it would sever every path of reconciliation with the Grand Duke. This was a hostile assault upon all the Italians who were then found within the city of Magnesia; some of them were slaughtered by the sword, and some were committed to safe custody. He further took steps to ensure that everyone was thoroughly convinced that their one hope of safety lay exclusively in an unconquerable and entirely irrevocable constancy in resistance, for they would most certainly die if they were to yield and in any way fall into the power and hands of the Grand Duke. Thus prepared, with the city gates under safe guard and fortified with defenses, they now declared without any dissimulation that they held the Grand Duke as an enemy. When the report of such great contempt for him spread far and wide, he received the news in such a way that no dissimulation could mask it; he immediately flared up in an anger no milder than one would expect to inflame an Italian man, and one who was, moreover, cruel and reckless beyond the common measure of his race. He therefore, without delay, abandoning all else, snatched up all his troops and flew to Magnesia. In that army were auxiliary troops, all of Italian descent, a not insignificant part of the Roman militia, and finally Alani, who, however, not of their own will but compelled by the inevitable power of the present duke, were contributing an unwilling and merely perfunctory effort to this war. With these forces the Grand Duke, having undertaken the siege of Magnesia, brought up engines, erected towers, and applied with ardent zeal the other instruments for storming fortifications. For his anger, already sufficiently inflamed, was further ignited by the frequent taunts hurled at him from the walls, by the efforts of those mocking him, and by their threats, by which the puffed-up and impatient man was incredibly exasperated, his attacks meanwhile being in vain against the most solid walls.
A They had previously secured the place from the top—having arrived by way of underground tunnels and aqueducts from afar so that they diverted the streams—and they, having marched out in great numbers, obstructed them and, as much as they were able, secured their water-supply. They stood stone-throwing and poison-dart-throwing engines upon the towers and resisted and held out firmly. Finally, when money was demanded of them, they not only did not give it, but they also hurled insults back and mocked them bitterly. Through these things, time was wasted in the siege, and other matters were neglected, as if there were not those who would hold their hands above them. And the Persians again, in companies and squadrons, made for the deserted places, if they might find anything of what was left behind. No one, therefore, was left in the countryside; but a few slipped into the cities—and these, because of necessity—while the majority, doing something wiser, fled either to the islands or to the opposite coast, and watched their own affairs from afar, not even daring to approach for a short time. B But those who, through the compulsion of their lack, were suffering dire things on the spot learned their lesson, and by falling themselves, they made others more prudent regarding staying alive; for the Persians did not punish them as enemies, but as thieves of what they themselves had acquired by the sword—these they punished and slaughtered mercilessly.
27. Concerning John Choeroboscus, also called Matzucatus.
At this time, a certain young man of Bulgarian descent, Choeroboscus by name, from his craft [P. 306] and the whole strength of the empire was being spent on assaulting Roman cities. Hence, for a little while, the Persians, repressed by the recent success of our army, again went out forays without any fear and carried out a gleaning of plunder through the regions previously devastated by them. If any things or men had survived the previous raids, they were seized or led away. And some increased that plunder of the barbarians by their own losses, having dared with untimely confidence to return to the fields they had abandoned from the safe havens into which they had fled; these, having been caught there, were suppressed. Although such imprudence claimed only a few, for the majority of the wiser among them, judging neither the neighboring fortresses nor the cities to be a safe enough asylum for themselves, had fled to the islands and the opposite mainland, and from there, watching their own property from afar, they did not dare to approach these even for a moment. And the misfortunes of those who, pressed by poverty abroad, dared to return home whence they might find relief, commended the prudence of this decision; for they heaped far heavier evils upon their former ones, being treated hostilely by the Persians, who did not pity them as men seeking their own, compelled by need, but deemed them to be punished by right as men seizing the property of others, which of course they had made their own by war and the sword. Wherefore, they cruelly tortured and slaughtered them, no differently than a man caught in the very act of theft. 27. Concerning John Choeroboscus, who is also called Matzucatus. During these times, a certain youth of Bulgarian race, Choeroboscus by name, from his craft...
I believe, originally a swineherd, being experienced in some battles in Mysia, as he himself used to assert, hearing of the events taking place in the East—namely, how the Persians, with ranks broken, were roaming about in bands and invading the regions there without anyone to hinder them—he takes courage, and having gathered to himself about three hundred men in number, for the most part archers and club-bearers, at first he wished to cross the sea while the Emperor Michael was still residing in the East. But when this was reported, a certain suspicion fell upon those in authority who heard of it, lest a rustic and untutored populace should rashly rush into certain destruction; and for this reason, he was seized and given into custody. B Being worn out by nine months of confinement, he subsequently escaped and took refuge in the church, where, having found a more relaxed situation, he returned to those former designs of his, and slipping out of the church secretly, he immediately gathered together a motley crowd of people and, as quickly as possible, crossed the sea with them unexpectedly. For it was not possible for them to remain at rest while being so long afflicted, and they had chosen one of two alternatives: either to live in their own homes or to die honorably in battle. Thus, a certain form of army was organized with Choeroboscus as leader. And they were greedily seeking an opportunity to test the fortune of war in a conflict with the enemy. At first, indeed, the greater number of them, falling upon a few, acted with bravery. C But it was, as it were, a mockery of fortune for them, and destiny laughed at them—they suffered the same fate as a swimmer, to whom, in truth, the return journey offers no guarantee of safety. For since a great multitude of Persians was surrounding the crowd of poor people shut up in Cenchreae—people who, forced from the regions around the Scamander by the ravages of the enemy, had fled there and were in extreme danger, in need of help from elsewhere—they themselves, as soon as they learned of it, hastened there and arrived. And falling upon them unexpectedly, they seemed to be someone of importance, and they prevailed as the enemies were put to flight. D And then, indeed, as was natural, they gave a respite to the besieged; but later, the Persians, having gathered in greater numbers, made a single assault against them, and the cavalry, rushing in with great force against the infantry, conquered them by main strength, and surrounding Choeroboscus, they slew him—though not immediately upon surrounding him; but because regarding his own ransom and the price set by the Persians at five hundred coins, the people of Cenchreae were not forthcoming, and seemed to neglect the opportunity to redeem with so many coins the life of a single man, he himself, to whom it was most important, approaching them beneath the wall, declared in the Bulgarian language—knowing that several inside understood it—(he intentionally avoided using Greek, not wishing to be understood by the many who stood around him who were skilled in it) what he thought would be effective in persuading them to incur the expense for his sake. In this he had the chief leverage, in that he promised that as soon as he was liberated, he would perform some signal deed to the detriment of the Persians. There were some among the guards leading Choeroboscus beneath the walls who were not entirely ignorant of the Bulgarian language. These reported to the Persians what the captive, for whose liberation they had set a price, was promising. Upon learning this, they did not think five hundred coins to be of such value that they would prefer to lose them rather than release a man who was an implacable enemy of the Persian name—especially since, having been defeated by him once, and having themselves been frequently defeated, they had reasons for fear.
A Ergo, they killed him. Such is what some report. However, there is a different account of this man’s misfortunes, held by others to be more credible. They say that after being detained by the Persians for a long time, he eventually found a way to escape and made his way into the Western regions. There, having offered himself to his own people, the Bulgarians, he gained a reputation and, due to the fame of his bravery, he merited a title of dignity used among them, which derives from B *sebastos* or Augustus. With this honor, he presented himself to the junior Augustus, Michael, who at that time was not faring well in those parts against the Turks and Amogavari. Consequently, finding any help opportune at such a time, he easily obtained from him permission to serve under imperial auspices against the Persians as a leader of a thousand foot soldiers (for he had just collected about that many). Armed with this pretext of war against the Persians, he infested the Roman regions around Thessalonica with his band of brigands—not acting as a Thessalian, but according to the clearly Bulgarian habit and his own customary manner of conducting raids. So much for him.
Now let us return to the Persians, whom we left at the siege of Cenchreae. Having destroyed the forces of Choroboscus that had come to the aid of the besieged, and having captured the man himself, they persisted without any further fear in pressing those enclosed and blocking all import of necessary supplies, until at last, having gained the fortress through a shortage of water, they put to the sword all whom they found there, with very few escaping. After plundering everything stored there, they set fire to the buildings and utterly destroyed the fortress.
28. Expedition of the Emperor Michael to the Western regions.
But let it be enough to have related only this much concerning these matters. Furthermore, the affairs of the West were laboring and falling into ruin, C for the power of Osphentisthlabus, an enemy of the Roman Empire, was then strengthened, with Eltimeres having turned to his side. Having joined forces, they laid waste to the lands subject to the Haemus, and having compelled most of the Roman fortresses there to surrender, they seized them. Among these, they had brought Ctenia, Rosocastrum, and many others under their control. But already Sozopolis, along with its surrounding villages, as well as Mesembria, Agathopolis, and Anchialus stood in imminent danger and seemed not far from the intent of surrender. The senior Augustus was in a state of agitation upon hearing this; on one hand, he was spurred to go and meet the growing evil, but on the other, the desperate state of affairs in the Oriental region was drawing his whole mind toward itself. In these straits, compelled by inescapable necessity, he decided to send his son, the emperor, into the Western D regions, and having prepared the imperial expedition as best he could, he commanded that Glabas, of the family of the Tarchaniotae, the protostrator, should set out with him—a man who was both brave and skilled in the art of war, and, moreover, gifted with a talent for providing counsel in the ambiguous encounters of the present. He valued this last gift almost exclusively at this time, since the gout, with which he was frequently afflicted, prevented him from engaging in warlike deeds. Therefore, the Roman forces of the entire Western tract were ordered by edict to gather from all sides to the junior Augustus, who had his base at Bizye. But when they had all gathered, they were not found to be such as could prudently be risked against the Bulgarians, who were superior in number. Yet, when reports came that the Bulgarians were appearing around Sozopolis, and the utmost necessity of providing for the protection of the city compelled the Augustus Michael, he sent Bossilas, the youngest of the sons of Smiltzas and Radosthlabus, to try to see what military prudence might dictate as useful from the Bulgarians in the present situation.
A He quickly appeared there, casting no small fear upon the enemies, and immediately turned the attackers to flight. A misfortune befell those crossing the Scafidas river in such disorder: the bridge collapsed, and from that point the current and the sword divided the wretched men, some being swallowed by the waters, others slaughtered by the iron of their pursuers. Here, however, the Bulgarians who were serving among the Romans maintained their native custom of sparing enemies captured in war and letting them go. Thus they allowed most of them to depart unharmed—the more illustrious ones excepted—so that, beyond those who had fallen fighting in the conflict, the rest retreated safely in great numbers, with the victors yielding. B These men again formed a band and invaded the territory of Adrianople; having fought a successful battle against our forces, beyond plundering the spoils of the fallen, they showed no mercy to the many Roman soldiers they were able to capture, not with the equality that had been practiced toward them, for they did not spare the lives of many. This setback in the war happened to be very inconvenient for our affairs, as fortune in its own manner, and with Mars shifting the turns of success, alternated the outcomes. The junior Augustus was severely grieved by this loss, which had occurred at a most inopportune time; and since he had to march to Adrianople through a region infested by enemy raids, he felt it necessary to collect forces of a suitable number from somewhere. He found many brave men there experienced in war, who had once served in the East, and he decided to enlist them and thus replenish his army. But because they were refugees from lost homes, they were pressed by the extreme destitution of all things, so it was necessary to clothe and arm them and hire them with paid stipends. For this purpose, the Augustus used whatever money he had at hand, C and because the situation demanded far more, he did not even spare the imperial household effects for such an occasion. Whatever gold and silver vessels he had brought forth for domestic service, he ordered to be melted down and minted into coin. His own wife, Augusta Maria, freely encouraged him in this, since most of these goods were her dowry, brought from her father's house when she was led to her wedding with Michael. Being sent to Constantinople and minted into currency there, Michael was immediately enriched with money, and, having prepared an army of many thousands, he betook himself with great confidence to Adrianople. Leaving the Augusta there, and having first venerated the Mother of God, he hostilely invaded, on the twenty-third day of August, the region situated along the outer ridge, which they also call Romania. From Reachubis to Stilbnus, and down to Copsis—renewing the ancient proverb—he made everything far and wide a prey of the Mysians and shut out Elimeres. D Then, turning his course, and with equal success in ravaging what he encountered, he invaded other lands of the enemies and arrived at Orestiades. These things were first known at Constantinople from the letters sent to the Augusta Maria from Adrianople, which the Emperor Michael's brother, Theodore, had provided to her from the army itself. Hearing this, the Emperor Andronicus was troubled for a while, his mind divided between wonder and anxiety. The cause of the disturbance was the homonymy of two places, which, though different and situated far from each other, were called by one and the same name of Reachubis. He knew from hearsay where Stilbnus and Copsis were, but seeing that the lands mentioned by the Augustus Michael were the other Reachubis, and inquiring about this, he heard that this place was near the borders of Ternobon, the royal city of the Bulgarians, to the south, no more than
a day's journey away. He completely dismissed these written reports as a joke, thinking neither that it was possible to understand the distant regions nor that, if this had been done, it was a truly reckless daring, and he surmised—as was plausible—that those who entered it would face necessary danger. But in fact, as was heard from those nearby, there was another place with the same name, Reachubis, which people also called by the diminutive name Reachubitzan. And thus the uproar subsided, and the reliability of the letters was realized. Not yet had the month of Poseideon A been completed before rumors and clear intelligence from those who returned later confirmed very strongly that the Bulgarians had suffered.
29. Noble deed of Alexios, prince of the Lazoi, against the Genoese.
[P. 310] In the same year, Alexios, the leader of the Lazoi and son of the emperor’s sister, distinguished by his despotic rank and holding the city of Trapezous, came into conflict with the Genoese for the following reason. It was customary for the Genoese, who had been long-time inhabitants of the region, to allot a portion of the profits they acquired from commerce to the rulers of the land. But since they had increased in number in the city and had grown great through tax exemptions, to the point that they considered their settlement to be both secure and, by reason of their buildings, magnificent, they thereafter grew indignant at the inspection of their cargo there, and they bore the investigations heavily—if, while they were enjoying tax exemptions from the emperor, they should be brought into subjection to other local rulers. Suffering indignity, therefore, they sent ambassadors from their common council to Alexios, proposing certain demands; and when he did not agree to them at all, they immediately made a show of departing the land entirely, both as a body and with all their families. And since their long ships were anchored in the harbor, they proclaimed their departure. The one side proclaimed very swiftly, and the others prepared themselves. The ruler of the country allowed them to depart and did not care about what was appearing, except for the share of the cargo that had been unloaded beforehand, and he insisted strongly that it was indeed on his land. B They, however, became arrogant through their customary spirit, and resisted and opposed the orders. And from there, he having Iberians with him, he was emboldened to fight against them; and immediately strife and war broke out between both sides, [P. 311] and they threw missiles at one another, and many fell. Victory inclined to the Iberians, and they [the Genoese] suffered badly.
A Finally, unable to withstand the assaults of the Iberians, and fearing for what might happen next, they set fire to the area outside the city, not for the purpose of victory, but so that, in the confusion of their opponents, they might at least escape the evil. The damage was immense, and though it could not be measured for the local inhabitants, the fire impoverished the [Genoese] no less, and indeed much more. For those goods, sufficient to fill twelve ships—the exact number that were moored in the harbor—became fuel for the fire. And from this, being humbled, they embraced the terms of peace.
2. On the affairs of Anna, the empress of the West.
Nor, indeed, was Anna, the empress of the West and first cousin of the emperor, relieved of the evils arising from the Italians. But since, after she had been rebuffed in the marriage alliance with the emperor Michael—because of the close blood relationship—she had taken as a son-in-law Philip, the son of Charles, as we have mentioned before, and cities and regions had been given as a dowry, the Latins wished to seize these cities and rule them according to Italian administration. [P. 312] But Anna sought to manage matters according to her own will, and she put forward her daughter Ithamar, B claiming that she was not to be forced to change her customs or be compelled to yield to Italian habits. For this reason, she leaned toward the emperor, and tried to make her son Thomas a son-in-law to the emperor Michael, offering as a pledge the giving of her son-in-law [Philip] to be cast aside. He, without any delay or putting off the matter for another time, prepared a fleet of twenty-four long ships; with these, having landed near the place, they laid it waste and brought Anna into a narrow strait; she was calling out to the emperor and desiring aid from him. Yet she, even as she was, struggled as best she could to gain some advantage, and the marriage was eventually concluded.
31. The escape of the Alans from the Great Duke, and the brave deeds at Pegae.
The emperor, of necessity, was in indecision, for he was required to attend to the events occurring in his own lot, which were in need of much and great care, especially since the entire foreign contingent, as... C D
A they were unpersuaded by his instructions and difficult to convince to submit to the orders sent by the Emperor, were leaning towards disobedience. Thus, for the Grand Duke, who was stationed now at Magnesia and now at Mitylene, the repeated orders to delay the war against the Magnesians and to cross over, together with the troops under him, to the West toward the Emperor Michael (for the Magnesians were also subjects of the Empire, offering acclamation to the Emperors daily, and could at an opportune time offer satisfaction for their insolence toward him) were of no account. Moreover, reports were spread among the Romans that those who were organizing the troops, and especially the Magnesians, would not even wish to live if they did not completely overthrow them. For the Alans, even more so because of what had previously happened at Cyzicus, were not pleased with these actions; rather, they deserted, in a body numbering over five hundred. And since they were forbidden to cross the strait at Gallipoli toward their own lands, they wandered about, changing sites from place to place, and pitched their tents somewhere outside the walls of Pegai. To them the Emperor sent sufficient money B and ordered them to return. But they were so disposed in their minds that they preferred to suffer death rather than return under the command of a leader whom they hated and who was now enraged. Meanwhile, an opportunity for a successful engagement was offered to them when a contingent of Persians happened to appear in those parts. It was quite a powerful force, numbering nine hundred armed men. When the Alans encountered them, not all were present at once, but only two hundred, the others having long since been scattered in various directions from the camps. Yet they charged the Persians so fiercely that they killed many of them, put the rest to flight, and, pressing upon the fugitives, captured a great number of them, without a single one of their own men being missing or seriously wounded.
32. A prodigy performed by the holy martyr Theodosia.
In the midst of this, a miraculous sign was performed by the holy martyr Theodosia, about which, for me—having professed to recount the history of these times—it would be no small risk, while declaring the works of God is both worthy and brings no little loss to those who would not hear, to pass it over in silence. To tell it will surely demonstrate both the providence of God and provide a sign of the care the Almighty has for us. A certain young man in Constantinople had been deaf and dumb for many years, and, being prohibited by this very misery from providing a living for himself by any other means, he earned his keep by working for hire, not remaining constantly with one master but frequently changing them. He was employed, among others, by a man named Pegonites, who lived very close to the conspicuous church of the Apostles, the heralds of God. At this man's house, the mute youth stayed.
A To this man the martyr and virgin appeared in a dream and bade him depart for her own sacred temple with wax and incense. He awoke and, by signs and gestures as best he could, explained the vision to those of the household so that they understood him well enough. Receiving from them the items that the holy virgin had ordered to be brought, he ran with them to the temple. There, having venerated the divine one for a considerable time and having been anointed with the oil of the lamp, he fell at her feet according to the custom and became a suppliant to the martyr. As he was returning from there, he felt some annoying itching deep within his ear. For this reason, he kept inserting his finger to scratch it, when suddenly, to his astonishment, there fell from it a certain form of insect, alive as it appeared, and furnished with wings. While he marveled and curiously handled it, and then, indulging in that natural hatred we feel for pests, prepared to take revenge on the harmful creature by crushing it, the thing—whatever it was—instantly vanished from his sight. Nevertheless, it was a comfort that the annoying itching, which had been unpleasantly pricking him deep within the cavities of his ear a little while before, seemed to have either subsided completely or to be troubling him much less. With this experience, his mind was stirred to hope for a complete cure, as if by an augury of a more fortunate outcome. B In this state of joy, though still deaf as before, he entered his master’s house and was prompted by the signs customarily used by the household staff to light a fire for the baking of bread; for the flour had already been brought by the baker to be kneaded into dough. He rushed to the hearth in his eagerness to obey and blew upon the coals with a shrill sound. But no flame flickered, nor did the fire crackle or flash—to quote the poet, "only a thick fog of smoke gathered"—and as the labor was thus drawn out at length in vain, the youth, offended by the obstinacy of the fire that persisted despite his frequent and intense whispering, transformed his spirit into words. He erupted with sounds declaring in the usual formula of indignant men the anger that had been conceived deep within him. C For he cursed the hearth and, with a great cry born of the intensity of his feeling, pronounced, "May a flame never be able to rise from you!" The outcry was heard by those in the house with immense astonishment. At first, barely believing their own ears, they saw that they must necessarily accept one of two things: either that the voice they had heard had been uttered by the fire, or by the man whom they had hitherto known with absolute certainty to be mute. Therefore, they called out from a distance, "Whose voice is this? Who is speaking?" Then he who had ceased being mute declared that he was no longer deaf either; for he had heard what they were shouting from a distance, and he replied aptly and intelligibly that he was the same person who had heard what they had said to him, and that he was also the author of the voice whose sound they had heard just before, when, caught in the heat of impatient anger, he had cursed the fire with his own mouth and tongue. D Therefore, all flocked together immediately, submitting that prodigious miracle to their own senses, and spread word of it throughout the neighborhood and the city. Hence, the matter was momentously made known also to the Emperor. At his command that this be done immediately, and with the Patriarch also present, the man who had been deaf and mute was brought before him. Being questioned, he narrated the whole affair from the very beginning, just as it had happened, with his own mouth. The Emperor, deeming that so marvelous an event should by no means be suppressed in silence, immediately arranged with the Patriarch to celebrate a night-long vigil with hymns and acts of thanksgiving at the temple of the holy Virgin, for the sake of the miracle.
to show reverence for the miracle-worker, A wishing to offer his tribute, he allowed others to go on foot or by carriage if they wished to reach the sanctuary of the martyr, while he himself, at nightfall, accompanied by the entire senate and the patriarch, arrived at the temple on foot and took his station there before the holy martyr.
Prologue
B VI. I return once more to the task long since undertaken, and to put into writing matters at which these very words, so to speak, not a little seethe, confessing themselves overcome by the magnitude of what must be told. It does not escape me that many, at the beginning of their narratives, have offered similar prefaces. But I trust in the fair-minded reader who, when he has compared the arguments, will suspect that this is done by other writers for the sake of art and a certain rhetorical flourish or playful display of genius; he will judge, however, that in these actions alone, which I have proposed to publish to fame, it is right that there should be a more ready belief in the indications of fear by which the author declares himself, at the threshold of the work, to be as if violently pulled back from his design of writing—since this [design], once perceived by all, and supported by the testimony of every person now living who has experienced the sad reality of the atrocities of evils that have been assailing us for so many years, elicits from each one reading our earlier writings on these matters a clear acknowledgement of both my frank and faithful diligence in setting forth most of these [events] without dissimulation, and the monstrous magnitude of the disasters and calamities themselves, such that there is no one who does not openly attribute their cause to the vengeance of an angry Divinity, and no one who, seeing with his own eyes and feeling with intimate pain the twisted obliquity of the dire events that become so perplexingly entangled in our ruin—[events] the ineluctable force of the many inroads of hostile Mars, no longer known from books but seen with his own eyes—does not pour them forth amid sighs and tears C into the ears of passersby, and with them agreeing, acknowledge and confidently declare that the most heavy weight of divine wrath manifestly lies upon us, bringing destruction with such vehemence that all labor to sustain it or to struggle to avert it is vain and the effort foolish. Furthermore, for whom would it be in doubt that if anyone should offer himself to those preoccupied with such grief, asking for a hearing in order to set forth what is happening, they would refuse and turn away, and deny that they are at all capable of listening to such a long Iliad of evils? Indeed, those things which cannot be heard on account of their incredible bitterness must, by a more powerful reason, be considered impossible to express in words. But however that may be, for me, who am not free to delay the payment of what is owed, it is necessary to resume from this point the promised narrative; and to stitch together and continue the portion of the events extending into the time that followed the occurrences already written up in the history.
1. Of the Oriental Tochar Khan, Cazan.
Cazan, therefore, the Khan of the Oriental Tochar, when he had ruled for six years and done many things worthy of memory, is snatched away in the thirty-fifth year of his age. With him perished at the same time the whole hope that had begun to smile upon the Roman Empire of restoring tranquility; and since he who alone was able and had shown that he wished, and indeed had already begun, to restrain the Barbarians subject to him from ravaging our regions, had been taken from the midst, evils did not continue merely at the same tenor as they had begun, but were D increased and exaggerated by more serious ones.
A And he looked to Cyrus and Darius, and he used these things that were said of old about their deeds for sweeter luxury rather than pride in the dignities of power. Moreover, he revolved in his thoughts Alexander, the conqueror of Darius, and he loved his deeds above all else. By which he himself desired to attain equal things, and longed to gain glory for his deeds comparable to his, wherever they might be. From which he bloated himself with many guards, and even more so he used the Iberians for wars. For they possessed courage not only from their race, but by far more from the pure and blameless faith of the Christians. B For this reason, and having learned that the Cross is the trophy of the Christians, he made it their shield in war, and inflicted many terrible things upon the Sultan of the Arabs, so that he even attacked the holy places themselves in Jerusalem, and came close to taking the city, and all the more so because he was bestowing favor upon the Iberians regarding the Life-giving Tomb. Likewise he ill-affected Egypt, if only the sandy and waterless nature of the region had not stood in his way in many respects. And I omit his handiwork, in which he gladly engaged while being a ruler and of the highest rank, not so much out of necessity, but for the sake of the education of those under him. Saddles, spurs, and reins for horses, and sandals and other things—C weaving and working things, and making the lulls of wars the occupation of such things. But as a barbarian, such was the paradox. For he believed that a good and holy ruler is an imitation of God; and just as it is not for Him to be pedantic about gifts regarding the Roman and the Scythian, the Sauromatian and the Greek, and moreover the just and the unjust, but to bestow blessings in common, both rain and seasons and the sun, so he thought the just ruler ought also to be disposed, managing gifts with all those under him. He minted from refined gold a "Cazanian" coin, and legislated whole-scale equity. There was care in him for justice in all things, so that he deemed nothing more precious than this. This man, having a first cousin, Touktas, to whom by birth the authority rightfully belonged, since he was near death and did not suspect the events that might happen to others in his own ways, disregarding him, who was the substitute for authority D of necessity, he sent and summoned his own brother who was staying somewhere near the parts of India with his own army, whose name was Charbantas; one might say he was a mountain-driver, such having been the case at his birth, appearing immediately as such, as was customary for them to do upon birth according to some custom. And he appointed him to authority.
A He had issued orders that his own pacts and laws should remain inviolate for three years, and further, he enjoined that it should seem fit for that to occur. When this became known—since the documents were distributed even to the frontiers and Chutluchaim, the governor by the Euxine, heard of what had happened—the Persian Solymampaxes, who was a son-in-law to the daughter of Cutzimpaxis, received the rumor. And thus, the event having been communicated to the Emperor, the death of Gazanes was made manifest to his envoys following the cities, and a great mourning arose among them. Nevertheless, they were also comforted by the Emperor having sent to them. But Amurius even then was holding back, I know not whether still suspecting as was natural the fear from Charpantas (for he wished to observe the agreements of his brother), or feigning good will from the Emperor; and having sent, he requested from the Emperor the territory inland along the Sangarius, known by the name Mesonēson, that it should lie for a guard for those dwelling within, to be inhabited by his own people. B But as such matters were for the time being suspended, some of his men, roving in bands, became an evil encounter for the Romans, setting out to harvest the neglected estates. For from this, the losses of the captured thieves were plainly penalties, if they trod upon the land they had acquired by the sword and enjoyed the fruits that had accrued to them from war. Because of these things, also, men hired as fighters, daring to attempt to reap near the sea, sometimes succeeded and profited, but for the most part they were foiled and slaughtered. And these things were done outside of Constantinople, but within, on the one hand, was the suspicion of the many towards the one acting as patriarch, and on the other, the greed of those in power, debasing C and wondering at the task of a ruler; he used to say well and piously that the office of an emperor must be contained by an earnest effort to imitate God, the supreme Lord of all. For just as with the Creator of the universe there is no distinction of Roman or Scythian, Sarmatian or Greek, nor indeed of just or unjust, as far as the profusion of bounty is concerned, since his liberal grace equally scatters common benefits upon all—rain, storms, and the sun in its annual orbit—so too is a prince utterly bound to show himself indifferent to all subjects to the full extent of their need for the necessities of life and their desires, D freely bestowing on all. Furthermore, the proof of Cazanis's equity in administering matters of public utility exists in a matter of no small moment for the preservation of faith in commerce: the purity of the coined money. For the coin that bears the name "Cazaneus," minted from gold of exquisite purity, has fame from its very author. With no less diligence, occupied in the remaining parts of government, he tempered everything everywhere with most laudable institutions, asserting that he held nothing more ancient or preferred more high than perfect justice in all actions. Feeling himself to be consumed by a slow and incurable disease, and entering into care for providing himself a successor from his kin, because he lacked children, he did not wish to advance Tuctaines, whom he had as closest from his brother's line, since he had recognized from certain signs that his morals and sentiments were abhorrent to his own. And lest, at his death, the man should seize the principate by claim of kin to the public detriment, he thought he should have him practice beforehand by establishing in his throne his brother, a youth of more proven character. Therefore, he summoned this one, whose name was Carpapantas, all the way from India, where he was tarrying with his own army; and as he arrived, he designated him with a certain strenuosity according to their own ritual to the right of legitimate succession to the empire; he educated him even, for the time being, for the rightful administration of the kingdom he was destined for, with such effective precepts that, as if by the art of a trainer a wild beast is tamed or an untamed foal is taught by a master groom to obey the bit, in a short time he appeared absolutely composed and in all things a candidate for empire similar to his predecessor, offering no less hope of himself than if, born of Cazanis’s blood and educated in those ways from boyhood, he were being substituted for his dying brother [rather than being a brother educated abroad]. Finding him such, without delaying further, Gazanes sent him into possession of the principate, urgently forbidding that he change anything in the laws or treaties established by him or in the entire course of the government he had initiated for the whole of three years, but after that term, permitting him to use his own judgment and freely manage affairs as he thought best. These deeds were soon divulged through Asia; for reports did not allow the satraps waging war there to be ignorant of these things, as they were sent to the fortresses of the Roman frontier, which the Persians then held, and public acts were sent duly confirming these things with diplomas. Chutluchaim, therefore, who was in charge of the regions situated by the Euxine, heard what had happened; and the Persian Solymampaxes, son-in-law of Cutzimpaxis, soon received word of the matter; whence knowledge of the event also reached the Emperor. Shortly thereafter, the death of Cazanis was signified through the cities by envoys sent from the court, declaring everywhere a great mourning throughout the satrapies; these the Emperor, having designated to each one interpreters of his own such office, strove to console humanely. At that time, it happened not inconveniently beyond expectation, that Amurius—whose fear, quieted a little before only by reverence for Cazanis, was not empty of the prospect of returning to his nature upon his removal—nonetheless restrained himself and showed a will for peace, either because he feared Carpapantas, who had declared that he wished to stand by the treaties initiated by his brother Cazanis (among which was known the convention with the Emperor), or because he affected the favor of the Emperor as useful to his own ends. Having therefore sent envoys, he requested through the Emperor that he be granted leave to frequent his own colonies.
Those who were between the rivers, including grain and commodities—for most of these things were dispersed, overcome by greed, and all things were being managed laxly as they squandered for profit, [P. 321] and the affairs of the state were dreadfully tossing—the Patriarch, it would seem, was extremely vexed by the profiteering. He appeared to be bestowing favors upon the people, and set himself against those who were thought to be powerful on their behalf, so that he wrote very bold letters to the Emperor and affirmed with oaths that unless this grain profiteering were allowed to cease, he would shroud the profiteers in curses from the common synod and they would henceforth be cast out. And he swore these things, yet nothing at all was accomplished; as these things were also becoming a portion of the movement against him, because he was invoking the wrath from heaven in vain A if these things were not done.
2. The Emperor’s address to the schismatics, and their defense.
The Emperor gathered those who were schismatic on the twenty-ninth day of Gamelion. He also brought out of prison John Tarchaneiotes, whom he had previously kept in ease, but since he too had clashed with the Patriarch, he had been shut away. At that time, having brought him out, he had him as a part of the assembly. He sat before them all and addressed them, while the blind monks—to whom he looked, as they seemed more worthy than the others—also sat; the Patriarch was on one side, and on the other were the bishops and clergy B. [Here the Latin resumes] ...and while they were present, [P. 522] harmfully and softly, and with indulgence granted to the powerful, the public affairs were administered. Whence it was necessary that the political state of things and the summit of affairs should fluctuate most dangerously. But because that which most of all among these city evils incurred the offense of the people was this trafficking of the rich that was strangling the miserable populace, the Patriarch made it clear that this was most hateful to him, thus gathering the favor of the people, and arming himself by art against the faction which he was not entirely ignorant was being stirred up against him. Understanding, moreover, what the case was—that the avarice of these men could not be curbed except by the authority of those superior to them and of those more powerful—he wrote most free letters to the Emperor on this subject, in which he threatened, and sanctioned his threats with an oath, that if those foul monopolies, especially of grain (which were bringing famine upon the city), did not cease, he would subject their authors to grave curses and anathemas on the judgment of the common synod, and would not stay quiet until such a pernicious corruption was driven from the city. Yet although he had bound himself by an oath in the words he uttered to do so entirely, nothing nevertheless was accomplished, since the cowardly fear, which restrained him from issuing his threats into effect, consumed the whole impetus of his ambitiously displayed zeal. Wherefore, to his other accusations he added that most grave one of perjury, knowingly failing to perform that which he had promised, with Christ God, who descended to us from heaven, invoked as witness.
2. The Emperor's address to the schismatics, and their reply to it.
Furthermore, on the twenty-ninth day of September, the Emperor gathered those who had long since been torn away from the communion of the Constantinopolitan Church, having also brought out for this purpose John Tarchaneiotes from the custody in which he had previously been allowed to live freely, but which he had been shut into because he himself was also opposing the Patriarch. Having him brought out of prison by his own order, when he was present with the rest, sitting on high, he spoke words to the whole assembly, while the blind monks sat before him (to whom he was especially preparing to direct the edge of his disputation, as they were held by their partisans to be the chief columns of the faction and of the highest authority), having about him on this side...
A the patriarch, and from there the bishops and the clergy, and furthermore the entire senate and the monks who were present. In so full and impressive an assembly, he delivered this vehement and accurate oration:
"I trust that it is known to you and to all men that nothing could be more pleasant to me, and nothing more to be desired by me, than to see the Church of God, with every pretext of scandal removed, established in full peace. Toward that goal, from the moment I began to administer the empire according to my own will, there is no effort or contention I have not exerted, setting aside all other business, however urgent, neglecting the enjoyment of pleasures that abound for those who rule, and even despising natural affections and trampling underfoot the regard for the sweetest of relationships; for I believed I was purchasing, at any price, the tranquil concord of you all in unanimous agreement. And so, as far as I am concerned, I do not believe I would be boasting in vain that I have attempted everything in this regard, as far as it is permitted to a man. Nothing, I say, that could rightly and conveniently contribute to the removal of the scandal that disturbs the peace of the Church today has been omitted by me—not rashly, I think, am I persuaded by the testimony of my inner conscience.
As for you, it often occurred to me to wonder upon what reasons you persist in living separated from the Church, and by what blindness of mind you willfully choose to blink B your rebellious eyelids against the true light that shines so clearly upon you, with such irrevocable contumacy. What could I do here more appropriate than to address God, reverencing Him with the words of holy David: 'Lord, bow the heavens and descend, touch the mountains and they shall smoke; flash forth lightning and will illuminate them.' For it may be permitted, with a brief final word, to turn slightly from the literal formula of the sacred canticle. For it is the work of God alone to enlighten your consciences thoroughly, you men who, having chosen to live for God, are in danger of being far from God, for no other C reason than that you are separated from the Church that truly thinks and lives by good discipline, by a persistent schism. But since you are separated from this, which is undoubtedly catholic, tell me, to whom else are you joined? And if you cannot name the head to which you adhere, by what, I ask, do you believe with any probability that you are members joined in the unity of the holy body according to God? By what likelihood of defense do you repel the accusation of error, since you are unable to point to the goal toward which you strive? And would that this were the only thing that could rightly be blamed in you, the ignorance of the goal you look to and the head to which you cling: for that misery would seem a mercy, and that blindness of yours more worthy of pity than of anger. But now, the thing itself compels me to fear something far worse regarding you. Although, indeed, I shall not indulge in suspicion. It is not for me to speak of such things: I do not arrogate to myself judgment over a man, especially over men who live in the Spirit, since I read what is written, that whatever the saints utter, they speak as moved by the Spirit of God. It is right, however, to admonish you and to pray you again and again D that you take care lest, while you think yourselves worshippers of God, and of this order of the supreme and most secure, you are in reality erring most perniciously; and that because you are separated from the Church and hold your pastors in contempt, you are serving—not God, as you think and wish to be believed, but, as you least perceive, you are serving that spirit which is always hostile and irrevocably opposed to God; and on account of this, you bring upon yourselves the just hatred of men who rightly serve God. For does not the proper and highly suitable author clearly threaten the danger and emphasize this warning, since he is known to have been not only a disciple of Christ and a most ardent lover of his teacher, but also one who sealed his own worth and authority with the commendation of a death in martyrdom, namely Ignatius, who was filled with God and most wise in divine things? I beseech you, do not take it heavily to hear his testimony on this matter, as it is read..."
Why then, O men dedicated to God, attentive to virtue, and, moreover, bearing in your flesh, as it were, certain symbols of the sufferings of Christ, do you cast yourselves into such extreme danger? For you must of necessity choose one of two things to be delivered from such a danger: either demonstrate to which Church you have attached yourselves, and for what reasonable and canonical causes you are separating from us; or else, setting aside every petty cavil, desire to be united to this, our truly Catholic Church. But if you do not choose the second, then demonstrate the first. And if you cannot show a Church, at least name an B high priest, from whom, as you claim, you derive your cohesion, so that you are not torn asunder, lacking a bond. This has happened before, and now, being confident, show it. But if you put forward the great Maximus—as I have often heard others saying—that he too, even when the churches in his time were entangled in heresy, was contending for the sake of the truth, yet, first of all, not everyone was ensnared at that time. Rather, A the first and before all others, the divine shepherd of Aelia, Sophronius, was contending with him vehemently. But even if that were so, yet the piety of those in Rome was still flourishing, and the error of Honorius C had not yet been detected and condemned by the Church; to whom the champion of the truth could rightly appeal his opinion, and not appear as a schismatic being disciplined by the Catholic Church. Furthermore, there is not even a difference of dogmas here as there was there, nor does anyone have any valid cause for schism, as if one side thinks differently from the other. For that which seemed to be the case, done yesterday and the day before, has been so well rooted out—I shall say, with God’s help, through our own zeal—that it is gone. And he who performed those deeds, even if he were a father, or a benefactor, or one of the most beloved, or whatever one might call him by the name of kinship or beneficence, when it was in our power, he did not enjoy, in so far as it lay with us, a holy memory, and such as any Christian happens to enjoy, the man and lord feared... D
A to act terribly toward him when he was doing such things and in such a manner. But although he was my father by nature, and deserved extremely well of me through the gifts conferred out of affection, and was most dear to me, drawing me to himself with chains of kinship and gratitude for favors, yet, as far as it lay with me, he was deprived of every honor of memory, and was not even deemed worthy of that grace of burial which is denied to no one even among the Christian populace. For although he was a man of the highest rank, and most commendable as emperor for the immense labors endured and the troubles suffered for the state, who had failed in no duty of singular goodwill toward me, and had skipped no occasion to honor me remarkably, to such a degree that often, discoursing before many, he preferred me to himself and was not ashamed to confess that, in comparison between us both, he was inferior to me. Yet I so decreed concerning him, and what I had decreed I performed in reality, as the force of nature and my own will were made subject to that most severe declaration of Christ, who denies that he is to be accounted worthy of Himself who loves parents more than Him. But also my mother—and what else could one say but mother? And such a mother, and one so affectingly and benevolently disposed toward me—but not even she herself, from the time we began to handle the free reins of the empire, was able to obtain the honor due to an Augusta in the Church before she had openly testified by letter and by her own hand the detestation of previous deeds and sanctioned the condemnation of her own husband. Let the discourse proceed also to my former wife, who, although she had shown herself so averse to those things which were being managed at that time in the cause of the reconciliation of the Churches, that she openly cursed the Protosebastos Nostongos—who was visiting the most grievous punishments upon those in the Eastern regions who were resisting the innovation as if they were schismatics—and prayed for curses upon him, and did not doubt that she would consider it most welcome and would impute to his own account whatever evil and disaster might happen to be inflicted by anyone upon such a minister of injuries; nevertheless, because at the time he was dying, while those things were being carried out, she lacked the leisure or opportunity to cleanse before death the stain of the Latin communion with legitimate propitiatory penance, there was denied to her entirely by me, later when I was in possession of the empire, that share of funeral honors which, delayed by the recent death, pertained to that time. I, I say, when I alone presided over affairs, although my most dear wife had been snatched away by a bitter fate, with whom I had lived in harmony, I sustained the loss of her memory of the remaining customary parental rites due to be paid to Empresses. I allowed my Augusta to be held as if one excommunicated, as if she had not even been deigned worthy of contact with the holy earth or an ecclesiastical burial. With my permission, if not indeed by my command, her mention was removed from the tome kept in the church, from which the names of Empresses who have passed away in the orthodox religion are accustomed to be recited publicly from the sacred pulpit and celebrated with praise in annual commemoration. And so, while we hear other ladies from that register—perhaps unequal to her and not to be compared in the splendor of their virtues—being celebrated from there with a solemn commendation of proclamation, my most sweet wife Anna, one out of all of them, while I was living and indeed reigning, and you being the witness of these things, that book ignores. B And in this, if one must confess, I feel that I have progressed further than the exact rationale of duty demanded. I was, I say, more rigid than was just, and I exceeded the requirements of those who were even unnecessarily anxious in this kind of matter, especially since I of my own accord committed such harshness against such venerable shades, with no one commanding it. For who so inhuman would have dared to prescribe to me an act so contrary to natural and domestic piety? By my own free will, therefore, and inclined to it by no suggestions, the memory of my deceased wife was erased from the ecclesiastical tabula.
In order that I might provide a specimen of my zeal for religion, and that I might demonstrate an example worthy of imitation: namely, of setting aside any private feelings whatever in favor of the sincerity of the Orthodox profession and the peace of the Church. You, however, seeing this, and despite many—I know not what—pretenses alleged, persist with an obstinate spirit in the pertinacity of a dire schism, putting forward I know not what excommunication—known to none but yourselves—hurled by the Patriarch Arsenius against Joseph, who was substituted in his place. You bring forward as evidence the tablets of Arsenius’s testament, though they are confirmed by no signature of his hand. Come now, with what color of varnish do you think you can sufficiently hide the monstrous vice of that alien signature in the testament from sharp-sighted suspicions? To whom, provided he has a slightly sharper nose, would the shaky credibility of this exception not immediately reek—the exception by which you boast that he did not sign the tablets of his last will by his own hand because his fingers were at that time impeded by an innate carbuncle? And did you hope that such an opportune disease of the joints, invented to serve your cause, could be proven by your mere assertion to those who are not ignorant of affairs, and who consider for themselves how great the reward of lying might be to the most stubborn defenders of a bad cause? Cease, therefore, to brandish against everyone a sentence from a dead judge that is known to no one, an allegation that is utterly ridiculous and—unless it were bolstered by the suffrage of a recognized signature—incredible. In this matter, I further demand of you reverence for Arsenius, to whom you impute a wicked and inhuman will to harm, even while he was in his final throes. Do you not feel how unpraiseworthy it is for a Christian to preserve an inexorably burning wrath against adversaries, not only until the setting of the sun, but until the very end of his entire life? How inconsistent it is to call a man "saint," as you do, and yet describe him as such a savage avenger? How incredible it is to imagine the Patriarch—a man of such lenity, who is known, while he lived, to have been accustomed to forgive those who wronged him—to have feigned such ferocity in the very moment of death, as to force his spirit A to do the opposite of what he was accustomed to do, all the while desiring that my father also should set forth his own renunciation of the empire, arguing that the transgressions against John had been committed by both—by him, in that he had yielded to the lack of respect and had, so to speak, betrayed him; and by the other, in that he had miscalculated in matters of empire—on the grounds that it was not permitted for those who had sinned to rule, neither he in his spiritual capacity, nor the other in his secular authority and kingdom; and that he who was from him—meaning me—had sufficient capacity for this. What excess of love does this not reveal? To call to legal rule one who no longer even knew the man—that is, one who was entirely unaware of the person? Thus, do those things pertaining to gratitude owe to him from me, and it is a labor, moreover, to hear such things being put forward on his behalf. Cease, therefore, to go about babbling those things regarding him, which are able neither to have been done nor to preserve any honor for him who did them. But as for you, keep your own priesthood in the midst of things beyond reproach, and do not render impossible what you claim to be setting up. For, come now, at the very B juncture, at the same time wishing that my father might also lay out his own renunciation of the empire, arguing that the transgressions against John had been committed by both—by him, in that he had yielded to the neglect and had, so to speak, betrayed him; and by the other, in that he had miscalculated in matters of empire—on the grounds that it was not permitted for those who had sinned to rule, neither he in his spiritual capacity, nor the other in his secular authority and kingdom; and that he who was from him—meaning me—had sufficient capacity for this. What excess of love does this not reveal? To call to legal rule one who no longer even knew the man—that is, one who was entirely unaware of the person? Thus, do those things pertaining to gratitude owe to him from me, and it is a labor, moreover, to hear such things being put forward on his behalf. Cease, therefore, to go about babbling those things regarding him, which are able neither to have been done nor to preserve any honor for him who did them. But as for you, keep your own priesthood in the midst of things beyond reproach, and do not render impossible what you claim to be setting up. For, come now, at the very
A least, show me someone whom you have securely living the life of those ordained by the ancient rite. I know you propose the former Bishop of Marmaritzion, even if he has now passed away, concerning whom I inquired and learned many things that were objectionable. You yourselves certainly know, having heard it from me at the time, when you insisted that it was not right to pay attention to observations made at such a time, that I, too, was—I believe—hesitant in my testing, having the windfall that you were actually testing as well. And perhaps I would have associated myself with you when John was already resigning the hierarchy, just as I was attempting to pay attention to you, as you know, had not a thought, one least worthy of being overlooked, drawn me to itself and pulled me away from that goal. For the event which took place immediately—involving one who was inactive at that time, but is now governing the flock—was worthy of wonder. It caused me to re-examine the thoughts, for fear that, should it seem right to God for him to govern the hierarchy again, while the affairs of the Church remained B unchanged, the necessity to be disturbed, if it were to turn out otherwise, and my overlooking these things, would make me choose you and err, alongside failing to succeed.
[P. 327] If you were to adopt the hierarchy that you look for among you—since you have cut yourselves off from these of ours—would it be established? And who among those before us lived so untouched, being capable of ordaining priests worthily? For those whom we knew, we knew were all in communion. And since there are three periods regarding these events: the first, during which were the events concerning John—or rather, the empire—the second being that in which the affairs of the Italians and the Pope intruded, and the third, this one of ours and the last, during which the things that were done were corrected as they were and as it seemed they should be; those who were the agents of the first have long since departed, and of the second, some have gone the way of all flesh, and others have been removed by the discipline of deposition, so that it seems to you, too, that they remain so even still. If you accept those of this third arrangement, we have a discussion with you; but if you do not accept them, you are entirely burdensome, since you have been eager to destroy the principles of the priesthood C altogether. [P. 328] I distinguish three times, within the perimeter of which the canonical promotions to sacred orders of those of your party who are currently active must be contained. The first is the time when the deposition and blinding of John, then a boy, took place; the second, succeeding this, that of the wrongfully admitted communion with the Italians and the unlawful commemoration of the Roman Pope, with the profession of our subjection to his spiritual primacy. The third and last of all is this present one, in which those things wrongfully committed have been, as far as was possible and seemed sufficient, corrected by us and brought back from that depravity to the right norm of discipline. D In the first period, those who had the power to ordain have long since ceased to live. In the second period, of those whom it saw from that time, some have fulfilled their fate, and others, cast out from their seats and despoiled of their honor by our judgments—while your own prayers also heartily supported this—live privately today without sacred power. Neither group could duly ordain your priests or ours, even if we wished they could, not only because the life of some and the jurisdiction of others is now lacking, but also because, if your opinion is true—that of those who believe that with the deposition of your Arsenius (which occurred in the first period) legitimate power in this Church has ceased—none of them, however much he may have attempted it, could perform a true ordination. There remains the third time, the present state of affairs, wherein if we believe there still survives on earth a certain authority to consecrate priests in due form—which if it be lacking, there is no Church—it is surely in this one of ours, which alone, even for you who along with us reject the Latin, has bishops who are none among you; in this one of ours, I say, that authority...
B of the Church alone you ought to acknowledge. If you do this, you are already in agreement with us; you are already giving us your hands, with all controversies between us removed. But if you persist in resisting, if you refuse to admit as true the bishops of our party, then you are truly importunate, you who strive to persuade us that there is not found today on earth any true bishop; for he who says this exhausts the fountain of priestly ordination, and for human affairs destroys all hope of ever seeing any man raised to the right of sacrificing by the canonical imposition of hands. Do you accept or reject as being in your estimation this manifestly intolerable absurdity? And yet, the one and only way for you to dispel it is, forsooth, an exceedingly difficult one: it consists in proving clearly that there are even now still alive some bishops from that time which, as it was prior to the three already mentioned, was free from any controversy concerning the status and power of any one of them. Of these prelates of ancient and unsuspected ordination, if you have by chance kept any single one hidden until now in secret retreats among you, I beg you, do not hide him from us, do not delay any longer. Show us the necessary thing. Let the Church of today see in the man shown by you the successor of its propagation from antiquity, the hope of its transmission to the future. I remember you naming not long ago as such a man the bishop of Marmaritzion: but besides the fact that he has now also reached the end of his life, even concerning this man I had at that time, upon making inquiries, found many things in his life and actions worthy of censure, for which he could deservedly be judged unworthy of the episcopal honor. You know these things yourselves, having heard them from me at that time, when nevertheless, as you persisted in the intention of setting him over the Church, and were contending that the stains of whatever lapses he had made against discipline were rightly compensated for by that one endowment of antiquity that moved him to the undoubted source of succession, I gave way and acquiesced in your judgment, valuing so highly—despite whatever inconvenience and whatever indignity had to be swallowed—the desire to win you over and add you to ourselves. And so, when John presently abdicated the patriarchate, I had planned, as you know, to substitute your man from Marmaritzion, moved solely by the desire to gratify you; and I would have done it, had not some matter of the highest consideration C intervened and necessarily led my mind, which was entirely intent on that goal, away from the pursuit of that design. For when it happened that the signal merit and the highest grace in the sight of God were declared by a marvelous prophecy, clearly confirmed by events, of that man who, having previously resigned the patriarchate, was living as a private individual, we deemed it a matter of religion not to follow so clear a prerogative of divine suffrage by restoring him to the see from which it was shown by this very prodigy that he had been unjustly cast out, especially since, besides the danger of offending God if we did not do so, the current state of ecclesiastical affairs, which it was apparent would undoubtedly be involved in new perturbations if anything else were decided, urged us to this very thing. I also reasoned with myself, even if, neglecting those reasons of such great importance, I had persisted in my mind in obeying you, I would have done so in vain. For by any path blocked by so many and such great difficulties, no hope shone of ever reaching the goal toward which you and I were striving by a common course. Through these things, I hope, the equity and necessity of this last election having been shown to be absolutely ineluctable, I return to proposing to you the conspicuous and highly estimable gifts of this man, whom, following divine suffrage, you see me restoring to the patriarchal see. This man is truly simple, devoid of guile and fraud, and very fond of virtue. I know that he indeed appears to many now, and once did to me as well (for I will confess the truth D openly), austere and harsh and unyielding to the point of a rigidity that knows not how to soften into indulgence, and in every way more headstrong than a pastor, especially a spiritual one, ought to be. I, too, was, I say, at other times of that same opinion with you, seeking in him a mildness and peaceful gentleness suitable for winning over the multitude. Preoccupied by an aversion to him from that cause, when I heard from the monk Menas, who reported that it had been revealed to him by God, of the impending disaster, I was indeed with difficulty led to believe it, thinking it impossible that a man of an austere, harsh, and bitter disposition should be judged by God worthy of manifestations of events of this kind—unimaginable to human prudence. Wherefore, that prophecy of the wrath of the Divinity looming over us...
A seemed to me to be rejected as something vain or invented without cause, and for a long time I refused belief in it. But when I saw the outcome, and being convinced by an irrefutable argument that the Spirit of God dwelt in him—the gift of whose prophecy, performed by actual events, must truly be acknowledged—I could not but be seized with a certain vehement zeal for such a man, and I allowed those earlier prejudices against him to be shaken from my mind, thinking that perhaps it was permitted to my ignorance to experience such things, by the indulgence of the Divinity who teaches me, so that I might understand what until now I had been unable to, namely, how immensely divine judgments, by which those who bear no weight of human favor are not infrequently exalted, are raised above the thoughts of men. Whence I judged that this very thing, which many in this man condemn as a vice, should rather be ascribed to his praise. For why, I was saying, should I censure him for being severe in chastising, when God, of whose goodness no one can doubt, for the most part punishes men justly? Not, clearly, with the intention of destroying them, but of purging them; which is surely an office of goodness, and of no ordinary kind. But since man is created with power over himself and in possession of free will, it is not to be expected that he will do anything other than exercise in the act of life this faculty of his to choose either side, and to act according to that which he has judged. Only for his guidance is the law set before him, partly natural and partly written, and the arbiter sits in judgment so that, if the curb implanted in each individual by nature—which distinguishes what is to be avoided and what to be followed—should not suffice for coercing from transgression, the correction of external power might supplement the defect of this, and by its teaching censorship he might learn what he who has sinned seemed not to have understood through the warning of the intimate judgment of nature; from which it is inferred that the punisher of a sin should truly be considered in the place of a benefactor, even when he acts with severity toward him whom he corrects for his deserts. For the Holy Gospel demonstrates that it is desirable for men to be assisted by applied force, where it reports the crowd sitting idly in the ways and streets and alleys being compelled not inhumanly, but beneficially, to enter the king's marriage feast; so that all may understand that the help of applied necessity is required for them, if they wish to be saved. B Since these things are so, what then is the suitable cause for you to persist in schism? What is your objection that we should decline to turn away the evil judged by you to be unseemly, by which, as if by removing the scandal of your offense, we may all be reconciled and come together as one? Why do you strive to rend the one and seamless tunic of the Church, and having done so, continue to live securely, as if by this conduct you were involving yourselves in no crime? If even now these things do not move you, come, set forth upon what you rely. Behold the patriarch and the hierarchs; behold the clergy and the senate and the people and the most select of the monks: before these, set forth what you trust may be usefully alleged for your defense. But before all things, since the body of the Church cannot be without a head, show beneath which and what kind of hierarchs you consider this congregation of yours to be rightly subjected. But see that you point out such ones as, having known them by full examination, we may doubtlessly be obliged to approach by repudiating our own as less suitable. Come, I say, let us find some exit from this business that is already nearly infinite. Shall there be no end to these altercations? Do you think it equitable that you should be irrevocably separated from the whole world by an eternal schism? Or do we seek another earth, from which we might bring you hierarchs not to be scorned, who might at last instruct our Church with presbyters no longer of doubtful ordination, and connect it with a certain and orthodox ancient continuity? Which do you consider conducive to ending these controversies: to consult with the dead regarding the status of the living, and to search from those who are not as to what ought to be judged concerning the present? Why do we not rather settle our disputes ourselves, and by bringing forward the rights of the opposing causes on both sides, judge and be judged in turn, so that by the conflict of arguments truth may be beaten out, upon the sight of which we might soon be in agreement and acquiesce? I venture to promise, with confidence that divine aid will not be lacking: if we inquire, under the guidance of God, by the authorities and examples of the Fathers, as to what is necessary to be done, we will not wander from the mark, nor will it be long before we come together into a sentence that is commonly saving and convenient for both sides. These are the things I have had to profess according to my own sense.
But you, although you have all been called together, are not permitted to speak all at once and without distinction. It is permitted to the one among you who is more worthy than the rest to speak on behalf of everyone, and in this way, the confusion having been removed, the discussion may take place in an orderly manner.” When the emperor had said this, the leaders of the others, and especially the blind ones, said: A “We, O emperor, seek one thing: the restoration of the Church to its proper state. For that it is in a bad condition, you yourselves bear witness, and it is known to all. And that things concerning the patriarch Arsenius were violated—he who was unjustly, oh, what justice! deposed—and that matters that once were in order and almost in the precision of the dogmas have been accepted, while communicating with those with whom it is not worthy to communicate, these things, even if we were not to speak of them, are admitted by you. Now, that the matters concerning the Church have been subverted is evident and manifest from this; but the question of correcting those who have fallen, if there is nothing to be overlooked, but rather a search for how and by whom these things were done, this [is what must be inquired into] once the foundation is revealed, and the superstructure will be known.”
And indeed, when they began to speak of the more immediate events, those, namely, from the time of Gregory and onwards, the emperor held them back and transferred them to more ancient times, and he exposed the rumor of the excommunication as vain, not only that [directed] against Joseph, which they kept rumoring about entirely, but also that [rumor] against the emperor himself. B For how could it be safe to be under an excommunication, of which he [the patriarch] was mindful while celebrating the liturgy? And how could it remain unloosed and require one to loose it, when he himself, by his deeds, had already loosed that bond? So that even if that which occurred later had not happened, he kept saying the matter concerning the Pope would not, by any means, have prevented those who mention the name of the emperor in the church from doing so. By saying these things, he pointed out that some of them were even communicating with Joseph, and had not schismatized, unless it were after what was done concerning the Pope. The words were thus worn away until late C at night. The goal of the monks was this, and the impetus from here and there stirred up many, and they rumored about those
who were ruling over the Patriarch to treat them with contempt, utilizing the arguments A that they had themselves broken the conditions regarding the Patriarch Arsenius, and that the Church had partaken in the contagion of heresy. Given that these were the public foundations of their argument, they concluded that they must bring forward the necessary corrective measure. This was that those who had not been canonically deposed by those who were properly authorized to do so, but who had remained untouched until the end, were not worthy to perform priestly functions—and this charge they leveled even against many who had themselves transgressed, having done many things contrary to expectation, having violated canonical decrees, and having acted more out of malice and ignorance than out of love and security. They said that it was not a matter of contention for them with the Emperor—since he was their master—and that they were taking care not to offend his authority in other ways, which was the reason why they happened to be defeated, even if they were speaking the most lawful things. But again, their words required a judge; they required a judge. B Therefore, to speak most justly, there is no other who would be a more worthy judge than the Emperor, by whom both of them must be brought to speak their testimony and by whom disputes must be resolved according to the established laws, with God himself looking on and the laws that award his favor. The monks' purpose in saying these things, if anyone were listening, was to undermine the foundations of what had been bruited about from the beginning. But they were singing to deaf ears, to use an expression, and accomplishing nothing. Because of this, a clamor arose from those sitting behind. These men, having been disordered by the rumors, echoed them with shouts, and C they uttered unrestrictedly—it being unclear in such a great throng and commotion who exactly was saying the bold things—blasphemous things against the one acting as patriarch, calling him a Euchite and other things even worse than that. The Emperor, having heard this, and as was to be expected being disturbed by such great insolence, ordered them to be expelled immediately, and he pressed hard upon and grew angry with the ringleaders, considering it a terrible thing if he himself should be [at the mercy of] imperial power and greater gravity while...
he was offering them peace in return. He received all who entered seeking reconciliation, not ordering everyone to appear at once, and he provided separate places for those who were not forbidden to show themselves, as if he were seemingly among a multitude and one who was going to create disorder; but they, drawing back to themselves, released their disorderly impulses and gave vent to the most shameful cries. To these people what excess of audacity would seem to have remained, brazenly opposing the emperor as if he were installing such and such a person, seeking peace from his right hand? And yet, he said that he should sit with himself—the one who was peaceful among those who hated peace, and who was worthy, in turn, both of the throne and of spiritual oversight. Saying these things, and reproaching them with much more—as he possessed much to say and to prove that they were not securely positioned in the things in which they prided themselves—he nevertheless, out of respect for the past and out of a desire for peace, let everything unspoken; and, assuming a solemn manner toward them, he also reached an agreement with them. He sat them down again by command, and he strung together the praises of the one who was then patriarch, recounting in detail what happened yesterday and the day before. For a time, weaving his words in a circle, and as he seemed to be speaking, he appeared like one gesturing to the blind. A Hence, he let them go, though in peace, having delivered to them a request and, more truly, a lordly command: not to stir up the people in any way by placing stepping-stones of scandal along the path, but to remain quietly by themselves, and not with vain craving, but with spiritual discernment, having examined and kept watch over the matters, to criticize those who ought to be criticized—criticizing rightly—and in turn to praise those things worthy of praise. If they should do otherwise, however, he threatened them with the most grievous things, and [warned them] as they themselves were judging wrongly and justly. B From there, they returned to the monastery of Mosele and lived in peace. Later, however, when the Despot John was holding the prefecture of the city, their situation was disturbed for a short time, when the corpse of a certain monk, a Cubuclesios, which they had kept for years as incorrupt among the holy ones and regarded as a saint, was carried off to the monastery of the Peribleptos by those who had been ordered to do so, and they buried it. They set guards over them so that no one might visit them freely and gather in assemblies, as they were separated from the Catholic Church. But the affairs of these men had this outcome.
3. The Great Duke’s crossing to the West with the Catalans.
A The great duke, having labored much around Magnesia, and having besieged the city, and having contended against Attaliotes, and having lost many of his men—since success was not to be found there, nor, as the saying goes, was there any "further" goal to hit, having missed the mark of his efforts—after having exercised in most of the cities of Asia a license for extorting money greedily and cruelly, returned again to Mitylene, taking some of his forces with him in ships, and ordering the others to proceed on foot to Gallipolis. The reason for him acting in this way was that the emperor had commanded him by letter to abandon the siege of Magnesia and, taking the best of the men from it, to head toward the Haemus, where the emperor Michael was also encamped near Adrianople, from there checking the eruptions of the Eltimeri on one side and of the Osphentisthlabi on the other, restraining their hostile surges as best he could. B Since the emperor kept writing and sending messages many times, and time was being wasted in the interval (the reason being that they were again demanding stipends of many talents, not only for what they were going to do as ordered, but also for what they had allegedly done before—not based on actual actions, but solely on the time spent, whether they were doing anything at all, even when they were in truces and idleness, measuring out their salaries and aggregating the requested amounts into hundreds of thousands), having at last left Mitylene, they narrowly reached the shores near Madytos. At the same time, those who had gone on foot by land halted at Lampsacus, and there, having assembled the entire host, they crossed over in full force and occupied the entire region on the opposite side. What they immediately perpetrated—even though the emperor’s officials appointed in charge there had been sufficiently prepared for their reception—is impossible to recount in words or to represent with sufficient clarity the atrocities they committed. [P. 535] For rightly indeed did Plato in his *Laws* describe the mercenary soldier, saying that "most of them become arrogant, unjust, insulting, and almost the most senseless of all men, except for a very few," and while he testifies that a citizen of the better factions, who aids the republic with useful work during civil strife, possesses the entire combination of all the generic virtues, he attributes to the mercenary soldiers only the fourth of these, namely courage, since they readily expose themselves to death in war, not for the love of virtue, but for the greed of gain, and therefore easily fall into many shameful acts and rush recklessly, as they are unjust, against...
justice, and as insolent ones, against temperance—in short, as those who are most senseless, because they have lost all prudence. These things had indeed befallen them, even as they were Italians and numbered eight thousand. They not only carried off wheat and barley and slaughtered animals, and seized the property and horses of those they encountered—with death being the penalty for any who opposed them—but they also occupied the homes of the settlers B and raged with unbridled lust against their women, unless someone had managed to flee far away beforehand, leaving behind their own possessions and securing safety only for their own households.
When these things became known to those under the Emperor Michael, it happened that their zeal for the touted retribution [against the enemy] was extinguished, and they became lax in their military training. Indeed, they were rather pressing the Emperor to allow them to return to protect their own families, showing him that they were behaving like enemies rather than allies. The Emperor, however, kept suppressing their impulses and encouraged them as best he could. Furthermore, he wrote to his father, the [senior] Emperor, and spoke against the passage of the Catalans to him altogether, [arguing] that the Romans would immediately fight them and that they would be plunged into civil wars. He also explained that because of their violence and aggression, and because they were ready to depart immediately even if he did not command it, he had given his oath, sealed by a golden bull, that after having served for a specified time they would return, and that he would by no means welcome the Italians themselves, but would rather try in every way to prevent their passage to him.
But the Emperor, while receiving the messages of his son, was still hoping to use the Grand Duke to improve the state of the Romans. He had already sent ahead his own sister and her daughter, who was the wife of the Grand Duke, so that they might meet him as he disembarked from the ships. Being confident even through her that he would be able to curb most of the [Catalans'] shameful... C acts through personal interaction with his son-in-law, the commander of the ships at Madytus...
...from the contacts with his brother-in-law, A he sailed with nine ships to the port of Madytos, and laid hold of the time, meanwhile deliberating on what was to be done. Even if he heard that some forbidden things were happening, even if they were plundering the public property, even if they were scouring the countryside—and these things at the time of plowing, when everyone hoped for the harvest to the new year and for sustenance for both foreigners and colonists from the Orient who were in an ailing state—they did not refrain even from the plowing oxen, slaughtering them with abandon. Nevertheless, he suppressed the indignation at them. He ordered that many [of the men] be sent—for he was not pleased that all those who had crossed over should remain—and to choose about a thousand and to meet Emperor Michael with all speed, sending sufficient funds for their wages. The others, he ordered to cross back and to remain in the East, since he did not require so many from the beginning, nor did the empire have the means to feed so many, even if, when they came for a time, he had received them at their solicitation.
4. On the arrival of the Catalan Mpyrigerius Tzentzas and his entourage.
BMeanwhile, a certain Catalan also arrived—Mpyrigerius by name—with nine long ships C at the harbor of Madytos. Although the emperor had not summoned him, the Great Duke, who has been frequently mentioned by us, had excited him to this part by the report of the great gains of his own men in the lucrative and easy service, and partly, as is credible, had invited him by letters containing explicit promises of the greatest and most illustrious gifts from the emperor. For this reason, and this reason alone, he had arrived. And the Great Duke, with a few companions, went to the emperor, where he was received magnificently. Toward the end of the month of Elaphebolion, initial discussions took place concerning the wages, and they reckoned up three hundred thousand hyperpyra for the payment. Later, he himself recommended the one who had recently arrived, both as a man of noble birth and lineage, and as one who deserved to enjoy the imperial favor more than others; for it was not likely that a man who had hoped for great things and had come to a great prince, should find them less than what he had hoped for. He also said that he himself was well-disposed toward the emperor’s affairs, so as to cooperate with all his might and judgment, having become, as was natural, one of the emperor’s magnates. And even if one should wish to know the truth, he would be even more worthy of the rank of Great Duke [than himself], inasmuch as he surpassed him in lineage by a great measure. The emperor, for his part, was putting into effect [his plan] concerning him in the second...
having asked merely, and learned how he himself had not come when summoned—as if, forsooth, by the report of imperial favor and of what he himself had found upon arriving. But the matter of the demanded wages pained him exceedingly.
5. The Emperor’s Oration to the Catalans
A Whence, one day, showing to the Great Duke a countenance of severity, as one demanding so much on behalf of his own men—though there are some who say that he himself had feigned that the emperor should appear thus toward him, so that at the same time he might satisfy the emperor to such an extent on behalf of these men, as much as he [the Emperor] was refusing imperial favor and the benefit of his friends. The emperor, however, again proposing to them face to face the justifications, and demonstrating that he had gathered those most [numerous troops], and those of the senate from elsewhere, extended his oration far and wide, speaking to the Catalans, for the most part purposely involving the Great Duke. For he had neither indicated such numbers in writing nor had he understood it himself B to include the five hundred and this following of the army in the sum, and indeed he was nodding in agreement to receiving [the number he had requested] (the proof being the royal chrysobulls concerning him), but that he had not brought such a multitude and provided them. But since he had brought them, he persuaded him to accept them for the time being on fixed terms and rewards. And because of these things, he [the Emperor] complied, desiring to gladden them all equally with gifts and wages. Yet, he conceded that the bundles of money—without further scrutiny—should be given to the one who was leading them from the beginning, and that he should distribute it to whomever he wanted and however he wished. And he did not even appoint another to lead them, but rather the one who was leading them from the start. And the cause, he said, was that they, being enslaved to their familiar friend, might move and act with good order. But, as the treasuries were emptied of such and such sums, he asked, wishing to shame them, what had been accomplished by them, and what was the recompense for these things, seeing as they had wintered in Cyzicus and, far from having accomplished nothing of benefit—
on the contrary, had done many things that were most harmful? A And the Emperor said that as for the things done subsequently in each city and region, the people themselves who suffered, like Stentor, were capable of declaring them—and that the fact that he was besieging Magnesia and bringing danger upon his own people [P. 339], and exhausting, for such a long time, the strength of the Romans, was something that neither he nor they could in any way reasonably defend. He said that he had one thing to which he could bear witness on their behalf, and he did not conceal it: that they had for a short while pushed further away the great danger threatening Philadelphia from the siege. B But what of that? Even if the Emperor said that this alone was worth such pay—or rather, that all the other subsequent outrages canceled out this very achievement—nevertheless, since they had chosen again to require such amounts, and not [to serve with] the entire host, as the Roman Empire was unable to maintain everyone, and even those who were truly most destructive? The Emperor spoke in this way, and said many more things besides. But they, having nothing to answer back, only filled themselves with Italian snot, and as if they had been cheated, they held themselves back from the one leading them—wishing for this very thing to be known by those who were listening then, and by the others who were not present: that the one in charge of them should be made aware that they should neither demand things beyond their strength, nor should he harass them by grumbling on their behalf.
6. Announcement to the Emperor against the Catalans by the Genoese [\h]
B In the meantime, the Genoese living in the great city, having their dwellings across the strait, and having again taken possession [P. 540] and built them up more grandly—so that they were far greater than their previous ones, and, having been emptied of their new-found wealth—they wanted this to be known by those who were listening then, and by the others who were not present, and by the one leading them, so that they, as he said, might not demand what was beyond their power, nor he grumble and harass them on their behalf. The Emperor said these things and more, but they, having nothing to say in opposition, only filled with Italian snot, as if they had been deceived, resisted their leader.
In the meantime, the Genoese who were in the great city, having dwellings in the suburb over across the strait—and indeed, magnificent dwellings they were, for since they had obtained their residence there, they had in truth built magnificent structures, having extended the land initially granted to them by no small amount, and gradually, with their foundations, they were exceeding the boundaries and pushing forward the city limits, not without a secure protection of a rampart and a continuous ditch—received a panicky message from their fellow citizens in the mother city, which had been dispatched hurriedly by the swiftest ships, by which they were warned to arm themselves vigorously.
A They were told that it was expected with certainty that a great fleet would attack Constantinople in the early spring, and that part of the danger pertains to them also, as they hold their households and families there. Wherefore, they should be vigilant for their own part; and since they are joined to the Emperor by an alliance of fortune, they should take thought in good time how to repel, with combined resources and effort, the war that is soon to be brought against them. Nor should they think that the things said to them depend upon vain suspicions, for those who were warning them—men benevolently disposed and prudent estimators of affairs—had discovered that signs were becoming almost manifest.
Having confirmed these things, they delay not at all in informing the Emperor of the whole matter, and strongly urging him to take up the share of the business that fell to him. They themselves, although born elsewhere, having been received there with hospitable kindness and being held almost to the number of citizens, with their children now educated and grown to adulthood in his dominion, stood ready with a unanimous purpose to omit no part of exploring and repelling the insults of the enemy, and indeed to be most prompt in every struggle for the protection of the public cause. They pointed out how manifest it was that a danger was threatening, a danger all the more formidable because, relying on the awareness of traitors working among us on their behalf, the foreign enemies promised themselves an easier victory over us. For they added that those who had arrived from Sicily, B and the others who were newly joining them, secretly foster illicit commerce with the enemy, diligently indicating from here what is being done, and receiving notice in turn of all things, as they judge necessary for the carrying out of their nefarious designs to our mutual destruction. For they thus arrange between themselves times opportune both for the foreign invasion of our enemies—the allies of these men—and for their own betrayal, promising that as soon as those who have arrived here begin to ply their trade, they themselves will also exert themselves with all their might, finally casting off the mask of compliance and turning their arms openly against us.
This is sufficiently evidenced by the fact that, besides the fleet of the Mongerii [or Moregians] recently arrived in the ports of the Empire without orders, others are reported to be preparing to sail in the same direction, to be followed by still others, with this perfidious mind and wicked hope, that, having once admitted them into our fortifications on the pretext of friendship, when the conspirators subsequently break into our midst and rise up, we, by a pre-arranged pact, shall be unable to withstand and repel, at the same time, the external attackers and the internal rebels. C See in what great danger to the highest state we open access to our innermost parts to these unknowns, who bear themselves as friends in word and appearance. For we have further ascertained that the illegitimate brother of King Theuderich has already set sail toward our shores with twelve ships, so that he may join the allies already arrived here, intending to dissimulate his plan of attacking us until, with other members of his force also permitted by our own compliance to aggregate themselves to him, the entire sum of forces destined to subjugate us may be gathered for him.
These things having been set forth, they then insisted strongly on persuading the Emperor to hesitate no longer, nor to dissimulate, but to wish to cooperate openly with the Genoese, and to attack and invade the Catalans who were at hand, now prepared for war but still caught off guard, and for that reason easier to subdue. They claimed that they could arm fifty ships right now. They asked the Emperor not to be burdened with contributing an equal number; or, if he did not have that many ready, to provide the money sufficient for their outfitting. Or, if the money were not in hand in cash, they would contribute it in advance from their own means, which the Augustus could later refund at his own convenience. They asked to take upon themselves alone, provided they were assisted in this way, the labor of liberating the Romans from the dire injuries they had long suffered throughout the East at the hands of an infidel race. This they felt they owed on the grounds that they daily increased their wealth through profitable commerce in the lands and ports of the Empire; but even if no proper cause impelled them to it, solely for the sake of the—
A necessity of securing ships, and thus having made a beginning, they might complete the rest there, and meet the whole fleet if it appeared, and not allow it to proceed further. Hearing these things, the Emperor remained distrustful of the majority of what was said, suspecting that these things were being peddled simultaneously out of envy and malice by the Genoese. Moreover, the long-standing ill-will of those people toward the Grand Duke, and their hostility toward him, rendered his suspicion believable. Yet, I do not know if the concern regarding him, and the confirmation of the oaths, did not soften the Emperor’s mind, and he did not agree with those who spoke against them. Nevertheless, having thanked them profusely as though they seemed to be laboring for the sake of the Romans, he ordered them to be silent, while he himself promised to deliberate concerning these matters and to do what seemed beneficial.
7. Arrival of the Grand Duke before the Emperor, and the petition regarding Mpyrigerius.
The Grand Duke, however, despairing of the sum of money he had hoped to receive from the Emperor (for the total of the demand reached three hundred thousand coins), set the installments at a lower amount, promising to dampen the clamor of the Latins, and indeed that some of them, having been satisfied with wages, would fight for the cause of Emperor Michael. But if not that, he would himself cross over to the East once more; yet he insisted strongly that Mpyrigerius Tenzas—who, as a man worthy to be accepted, having approached with very great hopes—ought to be persuaded to come B forward, provided only that it be under the proper security, and that he obtain full assurance through golden bulls [chrysobulls] issued by the Emperor. He asserted vehemently that he [Mpyrigerius] was ready, now that he was satisfied with wages, to march toward the new Emperor accompanied by his own army. By saying these things and more, he immediately swayed the mind of the Emperor. Consequently, chrysobulls of safe-conduct were drafted for Mpyrigerius, and the Emperor himself, having granted much from his own resources to the Grand Duke, and the greater part from the grain C revenue, D [Page 540] of the many moneys he had hoped to receive from the Emperor (for the total of the demand amounted to three hundred thousand coins), settled the payments on a small amount, promising to suppress the rumor of the Latins, and indeed that some of them, having been satisfied with wages, would join in fighting for Emperor Michael. But if that were not to be, he would himself return to the East, and he insisted strongly that Mpyrigerius Tenzas—a man worthy of acceptance, having approached with very great expectations—should be persuaded to appear, provided he were called under proper security; that is, if he were given into his hands a diploma of the Emperor adorned with a golden bull, so that, full of confidence, a respectful admission and reception after the meeting might fall to him. He vehemently asserted that this man was most ready, with all the forces he commanded, to march under the standards of the junior Augustus and conduct the business energetically under his leadership. The Grand Duke, recalling these things and many more of the same kind, immediately seized the approval of the Augustus for his own opinion. Therefore, letters adorned with a golden bull, by which faith would be given for free access and safe withdrawal, were drawn up for Mpyrigerius. The Augustus himself, heaping many gifts upon the Grand Duke who was present, handed over to him, additionally, the greater part of the grain revenue afterwards for the sustenance...
of himself and his men, ordering it to be given over to him directly from those who were buying up the gold and silver, and having secured a respite for his obligations, he deliberated concerning Mpyrigerius, so that he might immediately B receive him properly and in a manner that he himself hoped. For this reason, he also laid his hands upon the revenues of the West, and took away a third of them; for the portion of the wages of those serving in the palace had been cut off long before. But indeed, the currency was also being debased on account of necessity. For previously, under John Doukas, two-thirds of the gold talent of the coinage was pure gold, a standard which he also maintained; later, however, under Michael, when the city had been captured, owing to the necessary expenditures of that time, and especially those towards the Latins, the markings of the old coins had been altered, with the city being struck on the reverse, and the gold of the coinage was also lowered by a carat, so that in the twenty-four parts, fifteen were of pure gold. And after that man had changed it, it initially settled at fourteen to ten.
8. The cause of the collection of the "wheat-barley" tax
The origin and institution of the aforementioned grain tax, which is commonly called *sitokrithon* (wheat-barley), was as follows. When Asia and all the Eastern regions had been devastated by barbarian incursions and the cultivation of the fields there was abandoned, they were pressed by an extreme shortage of food. At the same time, the opposite part of Europe, Macedonia, and all the Western regions were enriched by most bountiful C harvests. For, as it does not generally happen, the abundance did not lead to a cheapness of the grain supply; rather, because of the Asians who had been driven from their own homes and were flocking there, grain was being sold in the midst of such great abundance of crops as it was wont to be even in years of the greatest famine; whence a most accumulated profit was returning to the farmers and the owners of the fields. The emperor, having observed this, believed there was room for the imposition of a new tax, for which he was in great need, partly to suppress the murmurs of the recalcitrant Latins by paying their wages, and partly for the use of other necessary expenses. Therefore, he decreed that each farmer should give the state a measure of grain from his own harvest that was not large, and which would not be burdensome in such a great supply, and that at that modest price they might buy for themselves a most profitable privilege of sending their wheat and barley, by cart and wagon, to be sold wherever they might wish. To this end, six modioi of wheat and four of barley per unit were ordered to be paid in every locality. From this collected grain, which was D sold off at a high price, he ordered huge sums of gold and silver to be returned to the Grand Duke; and with him thus sated, the emperor, now quiet on that side, also set about the thought of rewarding Mpyrigerius according to his wish, and decided to receive him as he came to him with that honor which he knew he was hoping for. In order to do this, he set his hand to the payments which were due to be paid annually to the servants of the Republic through the Western districts. He diminished these by a third part: for there was nothing else he could seize, since he had long since intercepted the emoluments which were previously considered most certain and of the highest standing for the ministers serving in the imperial house. But he also devised another source of gain from which he might procure this money to be poured out upon Mpyrigerius, through the adulteration of the public currency, by lowering the quality of the stamped gold, inasmuch as when, under John Doukas, the purity of the gold coin had been corrupted to the point where it had only half the weight of pure gold, with the remainder filled in by an inferior material (a usage which persisted up to the times of Michael), in the first years of this man, having received [the coins] from the Latins in Constantinople, when the same Michael was in need of money for necessary largesse—especially to be given to the Italians—he ordered all the gold coinage to be recoined, under the pretext of changing the old markings: for he wished the city of Constantinople to appear on the reverse face of the coin instead of the previously used signs. But on that occasion, he wore down the soundness of the metal to such an extent that out of twenty-four parts of the gold solidus, only nine were of pure gold, and fifteen were of a baser mixture. After Michael’s death, a small improvement followed, with at least ten parts of purified gold being added to the fourteen of the inferior [mixture]. But now, of these very particles of sound metal, half has been removed and replaced with dross and refuse, whence it happened that a great blow was struck against the trust in the exchange of currency and the necessary commerce for the sustenance of life, as the foreigners were not easily importing their goods to us, and our own people were not finding anyone to whom they could sell their surplus for their own needs, as they were not receiving enough—at least not in exchange for authentic merchandise—for the adulterated price, and they were refusing to throw away their own currency of better quality at the same level of corruption as ours.
A Yet even at half the value, the pure metal is mingled, for which reason the necessities of the time became hard to obtain, and if anything did appear, these too were priced high, and there was captivity and famine.
9.
Repair of the Genoese in their settlement across the bay.
And they were constructing ballistae and machines for throwing stones, and the windows of their houses, which had previously been fashioned handsomely from baked brick and gypsum for splendor and magnificence, they were turning into battlements and secure defensive positions against the enemy; now they were collecting money from the common fund of their entire community, sufficient to hire external auxiliary forces in due time. And as for ships, they both had those that were already equipped and were constantly outfitting others, and they were summoning and bringing in naval soldiers of their own race from the common councils of their people located in various places roundabout. And they prepared everything for the war, B at which time a certain pirate named Andrew, who had come down to the Emperor with two pirate ships—a man who, being Genoese, had inflicted not a few evils upon the Venetians at sea—having later encountered a Persian vessel and having mastered it along with all the men in it—for he killed those who were in it, but the living ones he brought submissively to the Emperor, as if, he claimed, he were acting on his behalf and subverting his rivals—this man the Emperor received with benevolence, and cheered him with gifts and honored him with the rank of *vestiarius*. The Venetians, however, held him in hatred, and were eager to take revenge for the injuries they had suffered from him. Whence, having fallen upon him in the night, they suddenly set fire to one of his ships; the other [P. 344] those in the city were conceiving, since they were failing in their common deliberations and were forced to act on their own, the grievous leaping of the heart of their own people caused by what they had heard they did not suppress with silence and quiet (for they say that the struggle does not fully welcome pretexts), but just as nurses lull sleepless children more by movement and melodies than by quiet—for it is natural that the movement from without, being carried over, overcomes the movement within, and thus induces calm in the soul—so too did these men suppress the tumult of the multitude through successive actions and movements. And now they were digging the trenches deeper, and were preparing to have water from the sea diverted into them, so that C it might provide security for the inhabitants; now they were assembling money from the common treasury of their own association, sufficient to fight as allies when the time came. And they had ships, some already equipped, others being readied, and others they were summoning to be manned by the naval crews from the local councils of their folk in every region. And they finished preparing everything for war, D when also a certain pirate named Andrew, brought down to the Emperor with two pirate ships—a man who, being Genoese, had inflicted not a few evils upon the Venetians at sea, but later, having encountered a Persian vessel and having mastered it along with all the men on board, those of them whom he did not kill, he brought living to the Emperor, as if putting himself at his service and defeating his opponents—this man the Emperor received with favor, and rewarded him with gifts, and dignified him with the status of *vestiarius*. The Venetians, however, held him in hostility, and were eager to take revenge for the damages they had suffered from him. Wherefore, having made an incursion by night, they set fire to one of his ships, suddenly igniting it, and the other having escaped...
A safely, the crew within—those whom they could capture—they mercilessly slaughtered.
11. Summoning of Mpyrigerius Tentza by the Emperor.
The Emperor, being entirely set upon receiving Mpyrigerius Tentza, sent many to Callipolis, where his fleet was reported to have put in, who not only invited him but also suppliantly and insistently entreated him not to be burdened by coming to him. And that he might do so with greater confidence, having cast aside all fear, the Emperor granted him very ample promises inscribed in imperial documents fortified with golden bulls, adding even oaths and horrendous imprecations by which he vowed his own head, should he not receive him when present with every sign of affection and honor him as his known status required. And if indeed he wished to remain with him, he would continue to afford him the duties of hospitable kindness, but if he wished to depart, he would allow him to follow his own will, and as is right for departing friends, he would dismiss him laden with farewell gifts. The Augustus, emphasizing these things to Mpyrigerius through intimate emissaries sent one after another, finally gave him assurance that he would not lack a splendid and illustrious admission if he should encounter the one by whom he was invited. Therefore, holding the documents I have mentioned, sealed with gold as a suitable pledge for such great hope, he delayed nothing and approached Constantinople with his two ships. However, he did not immediately disembark from his ship upon arriving, but first informed the Emperor of his arrival through some of his own men. And when the Augustus suddenly invited him with appropriate honors, even sending carriages and chariots for him to use for this purpose, he refused with inflexible constancy, being no B less fixed in his intention to remain aboard his own ships than those ships were held fast to the bottom by the tenacious teeth of their anchors. Finally, being asked what further security he desired beyond what had already been given, he replied that he would then consider himself sufficiently provided for if the Emperor’s son, the Despot John, coming into his own power, were detained on his ships while he himself left them to present himself to the Emperor: that otherwise than by such a hostage taken, he could not make himself available to the Augustus. Having heard these things, the Emperor was offended, and indignantly considering it a mockery of himself that a man who—having traversed such vast expanses of sea, entirely uninvited, relying, as he said, on the Emperor’s upright and noble mind known from afar by report—now, having for so long advanced into the innermost vicinity and having even reached the harbor of the royal city, not content with documents confirmed by oath, would even think it right to negotiate for hostages, and such hostages at that, and would exact payment for his presence at such a price; judging that the arrogance of so proud a guest ought to be suppressed by contempt, he allowed him to be tossed about on the salt sea for many days without an answer, and as if the matter were undecided, deliberating. At length, the feast of the birth of Christ being at hand (for the arrival of Mpyrigerius at Constantinople had fallen into the middle of December), he communicated with the man again through envoys, asking him to be satisfied with his own oath, and urging him with many other arguments not to doubt in trusting him. C Against these he made many counter-arguments, yet finally he yielded his assent and, having proceeded into the sight of the Augustus, he obtained a magnificent admission, and this he frequented for several continuous days at a fixed hour, soon withdrawing himself to his lodging—beloved by him—aboard his own ships bound by anchors. To him the Emperor sent daily a huge quantity of provisions, which would suffice to fatten him and his companions. On which account no small sums of money were expended. By these, as it appeared, now somewhat mollified and relaxing his former fastidiousness—for his freer and more cheerful visits in the presence of the Emperor and his greetings D rendered...
A a magnificent reception, and he was daily honored by the Emperor with magnificent gifts. While giving and receiving proof of this, he did not abstain from his ships, but used them as his lodging, being sumptuously fed each day on what the Emperor sent to entertain him, and he provided for those around him with frequent disbursements of coin. Yet, he made his visits to the Emperor quite freely, and was glorified by frequent changes of dress, and it was clear that he would be brought into submission. Finally, since the feast was at hand, and he had already appeared as one of the senate who needed to be honored with office and insignia, having offered oaths of subordination, this was done: he was immediately proclaimed Great B Duke, with the whole senate and citizenry standing by, and he received the staff as a symbol of his station (for this too was an innovation of the Emperor: to honor those of the senate who were attaining the highest dignities with staves of silver and gold), and he took the upper place and was adorned with festive insignia worthy of the Romans, and donned the skaramangion. From there, having taken heart, he went out from the ship and lodged for several days in the monastery of Kosmidion together with his own people; for some of them too had been honored with equestrian dignities. C
12. The Oaths of Mpyrigerius Tentza and his Dignities.
Besides, insofar as the oaths to be performed by him to the Emperor were concerned, since it was proper for the friend of the Emperor to be an opponent of his opponents, as was the custom, and for him to swear this, he—ostensibly acting with candor of mind from the beginning—was clearly excluding Theuderich from the rest of the enemies. For he had already pledged oaths to him and was bound to him in service, and it was not just, without having violated any of the terms agreed upon between them, to cast him off immediately, having once appeared [linked] to his D friends and masters. And for this reason he requested that the oaths proceed for himself and his friends. This seemed indeed to have something deeper in it, as if the one demanding the oaths was attached to him, but it also seemed to happen in pursuit of a certain reputation, and especially that before the Emperor—since he was most guarded in his readiness toward the oaths, so that even the second ones seemed safe to stand by due to the...future and inviolate nature of all that he promised. For why should he not hold to the latter treaty with the same inflexibility he showed in his observance of the former agreements? Thus, [the Emperor] would be no less faithful to him than he would be to Theuderich. And, indulging himself in this opinion, he spoke at length, suggesting that it was the mark of outstanding and eminently prudent men to prefer no advantage or profit over the reputation of a glorious and unblemished name. For it is absolutely necessary, as Plato says, to realize that it is of no small importance whether we seem good to others or not. For although many men lack the true substance and possession of virtue, they are not entirely destitute of the authoritative weight of judgment concerning others. Indeed, they often touch the very point of the matter, and by subtly distinguishing the appearance from the substance, they truly discriminate between better and worse men, both in their feelings and in their speech. If, then, according to Plato, one must hunt for the favor of the masses in matters of public affairs, how much more should one not only pardon, but even support one who, by this action, wished to earn for himself the praise not of the common people, but of the prince and Emperor? And since this was plausible in any action, how much more is it to be commended in a solemn obligation of one’s own faith? Therefore, the Augustus granted Mpyrigerius at length that he might temper his treaty on the condition of the single exception he had indicated. He thereafter bestowed bountiful praise upon the man for his simple and unfalsified character, proclaiming him by that name to those he met, so that he might reveal, by as ready a testimony as possible, how deeply he was convinced of this. And I believe Mpyrigerius earned this place of esteem with the Augustus by no other art or deed than this, as I have said, by the insertion of the exception regarding Theuderich.
13. The Transgression of the Catalans in the West.
The Amogabari and the Catalans, A however, like some sort of deadly, roaring deluge of hail, rushed into every region or place they occupied or touched, sparing absolutely no one, and inflicting upon all such injuries and insults as would show their authors to be most wicked and most impudently violent. So much so that the West suffered another barbaric incursion, far more hideous than the Persian one. B By comparison, that former one in the East did not seem so atrocious, or rather, it appeared tolerable, at least by the fact that it was brought by enemies who, by the reputation of what they had done elsewhere and how near they were, inspired a useful fear that drove some to escape the danger by a timely flight. Here, there was no such possibility. For they were said to be arriving as friends, and being received as such, they proved themselves by their very behavior to be the most savage of all enemies. Nor were they any less ready and quick than the Persians to draw the sword for slaughter, if anyone dared to mutter anything against their will. C When that license had at last exhausted all that was readily available for plundering, and they found nothing more to carry away—for they were held back from advancing into further regions by the fear of emperor Michael, who was about to descend upon them with a hostile army of Roman soldiers to exact punishment for the crimes with which these newly-arrived guests had so cruelly and shamefully vexed the hospitable roofs, homes, and families that had received them—their own conscience abundantly warned them of this, even had there been no other such indicator of danger, and confirmed the state of affairs as it likely was. D Therefore, they decided to adopt henceforth a different method for managing their affairs.
14. Legation of the Catalans to the Emperor, and the Emperor’s Excuse
AHaving thus gathered themselves together, as if they were negligent of their leader, the Catalans sent envoys to the Emperor to plead their case. In their initial address, they confessed that the Catalans had indeed inflicted many grievous harms upon the Roman regions into which they had arrived as guests, but they claimed they had done this under the impulse of extreme and inescapable necessity, because, their pay having long gone unpaid, they had no other means of sustenance than pillage. Furthermore, they promised that if henceforth their wages were paid in good faith by the Emperor’s command, they would harass no one in the future, would accept nothing from anyone except what was purchased at a just price, and would besides consistently exhibit obedience and military prowess in opportunities to fight for the Emperor, just as it was right to expect from the most loyal. The Emperor wished to seem to hear these things placidly, not indeed because he entertained even the slightest thought of counting out to them the sums they requested—for that was difficult not only on account of the current indigence of the treasury, but was nearly beyond the capacity even of one striving to the utmost—but he judged it not honorable for him, nor consistent with his usual courtesy, to dismiss with a haughty and overbearing response those who had approached him in the guise and with the words of humble petitioners. BTherefore, he entered upon a middle path to appease them with arguments, and he fashioned a council of friends to be present with him while he did this. Among others, he brought in the Great Hetairiarch Ducas, who at that time had been brought forth from prison for the first time after a long period and restored to his former dignity at the request of the Great Duke who was then in office. The Emperor wished this to be imputed entirely to the favor of that man, clearly professing that he would not have liberated Ducas if the other had not asked. To him and certain others, who were sufficiently aware of how the Catalans had acted flagrantly and savagely, he ordered sacks full of letters to be produced, which signaled those outrages, murders, and robberies. When these were present, and with the Catalans having been granted an audience before the arbiter of all matters and the minister of his inner councils, Mpyrigerius, the new Great Duke, the Emperor explained how much money he had hitherto Cexpended on the Catalans in the name of both pay and extraordinary donatives, and he easily demonstrated that all these sums taken together amounted to nearly one million coins. Having said this, he showed that he was ready to subject the new demands of the Catalans to the judgment of those present. He requested that they propose and declare freely what they judged fair to be done regarding such a matter, especially Mpyrigerius, for he was studious to favor him above all others by honoring him. But Mpyrigerius did nothing but vehemently admire the great expense that had been made on the Catalans, and with no one else favoring them, the Emperor dismissed them empty-handed, as if by the judgment of the council, adding that he was ready to count out to them some money, much lower indeed than the immense pile they had requested, yet something that should not seem contemptible if looked at in itself and compared with the present straits of the Roman state. However, he declared he would not allow this money to be given until the Catalans had complied with what had been prescribed for them before. These conditions were that, except for about one thousand of them, the rest should cross over again from the West, where they had crossed, back into Asia; for he said he had no need of such a multitude in the Western region. In fact, to state the truth of the matter, he was doing this in favor of their leader, the Duke Rontzerius, who was most dear to him, whom he treated with the affection of a father-in-law, as he was the husband of his niece.
15. Escape of the Great Duke Mpyrigerius. Tentza.
As for Mpyrigerius, the Great Duke, he was highly enraged by this, as it seemed, for he had not suspected that the Emperor was doing this while he was Dsent off without having greeted the Augustus.
A For he had received those who were of no nobility whatsoever, and he was delighted by such people—some willingly, others unwillingly—yet being such a man himself and leading such men, he had not even hoped to receive the thousandth part of what he heard. From this, therefore, he grew lax, and looked toward his ships. And as all the Emperor’s affairs were considered by him to be secondary to the plans he himself entertained, he decided to retreat, or, to use the common expression, to turn back the stern. He set sail from the anchorages near the Blachernae and cruised toward the imperial gate, feeling quite distressed and looking like one who regrets his actions. He kept in his possession the symbols of his rank, B and he also kept the imperial gold and silver cups—about thirty in number—with which the Emperor had honored him on the previous day by sending food. The Emperor did not believe it at first, but still, he sent out many messengers to invite him to the feast of the Theophany, to celebrate with the senate along with the usual insignia. They issued the invitations, but he, frequently showing them a sneering nose—to the extent of even using a *skaramangion* as a bucket to draw water from the sea in mockery—sent them away with no other response. Then it was clear that he had turned away from the Emperor and was thinking either of returning home or of going to his own Theoderich, with whom he had so splendidly professed a friendship and from whom he expected the surest access. C But he spent three entire days and as many nights in this chaotic preparation for departure, during which time he sent back the gold and silver plates to the Emperor. During those three days, some of the Monembasiots, who were among the Emperor’s maritime servants, being anxious because he was keeping with him, and was seemingly about to carry off, a trireme that had previously been hired by Mpyrigerios, formed a plan to attack him suddenly, both to avenge the mockery he had offered the Emperor and to recover their own ship. But the Emperor did not allow them to do this, whether because he still stubbornly hoped for his reconciliation, or because he feared some greater disaster, or finally, because he was indulging his innate and habitual leniency. D And it was this last of the three reasons that the Augustus wished it to be believed moved him alone to forbid the attack on Mpyrigerios, always affecting a reputation for harmless mildness and a readiness to forgive even the gravest injuries, and for a humanity by which he laudably tempered the severe force of righteous judgment and avenging justice. These virtues, indeed, I confess are rightly exercised by a prince for excusing the truly faithful faults of his subjects. But he did not hesitate to employ them for fostering and covering up
A manifest adversaries and most contumacious rebels. Doubtless he was aiming at this: that he might turn away from himself all the odium of this defection of Roger, with such patient moderation, hoping that all would judge that no occasion had been given by him for Roger to conduct himself so ungratefully and perfidiously. Finally, after Roger had lingered for those three days I mentioned in the roadstead, when a wind favorable to him arose during the night, he set sail and hastened toward the Catalans residing at Gallipoli with as much speed as a starving ox is rushed to a pasture in the woods. Then, at long last, the emperor perceived that he had been openly deceived; and that great confidence he had hitherto reposed in Roger—with whom he had grown so intimate—began to be shaken and shattered. For it was reported that he was not resting, but was now said to be fortifying Gallipoli with a trench, now breaking the iron chains of its harbors, now finally making a great slaughter of animals, with whose salted meat he might fill his ships; now he was collecting an immense quantity of grain and preparing a vast store of ship’s biscuit from it. Added to these things, it was rumored that he seemed to have assumed a greater spirit than usual, and was now managing affairs not as one subject to another’s empire, but as one wielding supreme authority. From these signs, the suspicion was plain that he was plotting rebellion, however much he might zealously attempt to dissimulate it.
16. The embassy of the emperor to Roger, who had been a great duke, and the offer of the Caesarean dignity. 17. The oaths of the emperor to him whom he appointed Caesar, and the embassies to him.
[P. 552] For indeed, the emperor, at once testing him and also trying to win him over, sent the great commander, who was Maroules, to invite both Roger himself and the sister of the Augusta, his mother-in-law, to the city, under the pretext of appearing with him in the procession of the solemnity which was impending, B the Epiphany. This feast is commonly called by the Greeks the Feast of Lights. To this, she indeed excused herself by reason of illness and said she could not make the journey; but he openly refused, taking no pains to hide his disregard for that invitation. Under this, he mentioned the anger of the Catalans over the recent refusal, and demanded that the stipends owed to them be paid: for unless that were done, he would not be far from the danger of suffering great harm at their hands. The Augustus, having heard these things, sent again, asking Roger to accept a sufficient amount—not indeed the whole sum demanded by the Catalans (for it exceeded his means), but as much as he could provide with the utmost exertion—provided that, upon receiving it, he would immediately sail to the Eastern regions. Upon this proposition, Roger, twisting and turning, and wandering, as they say, around the circle in search of pretexts, obscured his answer with an evasive response, not hiding his desire to winter on the Western continent, where there would be no lack of grain for sustenance, but least of all wishing to cross over into Asia, where, in the current state of affairs, he and his men would have to perish of hunger. Induced finally by these experiences, the emperor began to suspect that the Catalans were plotting a defection, and, not thinking that hope for averting it should be placed in summoning their leaders—whom he knew well would not come—he thought he should attack Roger with other devices, C not having found him entirely impregnable to gifts and honors at other times. Therefore, through many envoys sent to him, he proposed that he was prepared to confer upon him the dignity of Caesar, and to cede and grant to his full power the entire Eastern tract, except for the more famous cities, so that he might manage all things there at his own discretion as supreme lord and emperor; but also that he would provide the stipends and provisions for his soldiers, provided that he could be D assured of his fidelity and good...
will toward the affairs of the empire. He promised immediately, should they cross over to the East, to grant them twenty thousand gold pieces and three hundred thousand local measures of wheat, and furthermore, to provide nothing less than that, and again to care for them as was appropriate. Many were sent to declare these things, and most of them committed these matters to the emperor’s sister [P. 333], who was still there, all the more because it was reported that even the conditions around Philadelphia had reached the point of death from starvation and the effects of the siege. A From the other side, nothing else was heard but demands for pay, and how he himself could neither control nor check such an unruly multitude, and how, if what was demanded were not given, he himself would not be safe, especially in proportion to the pride he took in his titles. By saying these things, he was clearly showing himself to be inclined toward them, possessing a disposition more difficult to manage than a wild beast—if one were to attempt to persuade him—because the source of his reasoning had not yet been thoroughly disciplined into the order befitting subordinates.
As for the messenger who was to be sent, no one else was better suited than Cannaburius, who was intimately bound to the service of Asan’s daughter, the wife of Rontzerius. Since he had frequently traveled back and forth from there, he finally said that he was permitted, on the conditions prescribed by the emperor, to seek the guarantees, and that he himself should provide the reciprocal oath in the presence of the one who sent him, and that the oaths should be taken in the presence of the venerable icon of the Mother of God. B The emperor immediately consented to this, and all the more so because it was reported that the illegitimate brother of Theuderich was sailing about the islands with thirteen ships, overrunning certain of them and ravaging them with all his might. Thus, they sent messages to them and received them in return, and the oaths were performed. C Theodore Chumnos was also sent [P. 354], carrying the symbols of the Ceasar, written gold-sealed guarantees, and thirty thousand gold coins. The grain had been prepared, as was hoped, from the collection.
And now, as it was already manifest that the judgment and innermost designs of Rontzerius had not yet been irrevocably committed to the service of the emperor, but that he was still seeking and deliberating, uncertain where he should turn, this very harsh necessity compelled Andronicus, however unwillingly, to solicit the favor of one man at such a high price. Since, therefore, the public ministers did not cease daily to convene with Rontzerius from the court regarding these matters, and the proposals pleased him, it was necessary that some response eventually be rendered by him. A suitable person was sought to carry it; nor was any found more accommodating than Cannaburius, the most faithful servant of Asan’s daughter, the wife of Rontzerius. When he had frequently traveled back and forth dealing with such matters, these heads of the agreement were finally proposed by Rontzerius: that the emperor should give some confirmation and security for his promises, and that Rontzerius, in turn, should swear an oath of fidelity to the Augustus before the person sent by him to demand that sacrament; and that they should both swear separately in the presence of the venerable image of the Mother of God. D The Augustus seized upon this the more eagerly, breaking off the habit of further negotiation, because in the meantime a great fear was being stirred up that the dreaded conspiracy of the Catalans with the Sicilians might erupt into an open attack upon the Romans. For it was reported that the illegitimate brother of Theuderich was circumnavigating the lands of the empire with thirteen ships, and that he had already made incursions into certain islands and ravaged them in a hostile manner, and that he did not cease to send messages to the Catalans, and the Catalans in turn to him. This final cause was the reason for removing all hesitation, and for moving immediately to the conclusion of a new pact to be sanctioned by oath from both sides. And on his part, the emperor indeed swore according to the rite in which the agreement had been made; furthermore, he [sent] Theodore
to Chumnus immediately, bearing the insignia of the Caesarial rank to be delivered to Rontzerius, along with documents sealed with a golden bull to provide for any unquestionable guarantee. He also carried with him thirty thousand gold pieces, as well as the promised quantity of grain, which was expected to be ready by then from the collection recently mandated. And if any part of the sum were lacking, it was to be provided without any delay, as effective orders had already been sent out, so that nothing might prevent the Catalans from crossing into Asia, that they might immediately receive the grain as much as the Augustus had promised. Chumnus having started on his journey, while pondering matters with himself, began to fear in what spirit the designated Caesar would receive him, B being the brother of the Grand Logothete, against whom Rontzerius was notoriously hostile and was rumored to be contriving the gravest evils, alleging as his cause that the Grand Logothete, by whose counsels the Augustus was governed, prevented him from paying his own soldiers their due wages, while he himself meanwhile abounded in such great wealth. Guided by this concern, Theodore judged that he would act prudently if he were to send Cannaburius ahead to the emperor's sister, both to indicate what the emperor had done or was doing on his part toward the execution of the agreed-upon treaty, and also at the same time to explore and report back to him in what state affairs were there, and how C opportune and secure his own approach to that place would appear to be. Having prepared these things, he followed Cannaburius at a slow pace, awaiting an answer. But Chumnus had not yet reached Branchialium when he was informed that everything in the camp of Rontzerius was confounded by sinister and turbulent suspicions, and that the Italian did not seem as if he would accept the offered dignity unless the demanded wages were first paid out to his soldiers, for fear that violent anger might incite them to a fatal mutiny. And for the appeasing of their fury D that remained to be gathered, it was decided [to provide it] there. And spending days there, since he did not immediately receive them to cross to the East. But Chumnus, doubting in what manner the one proposed as Caesar should be approached by him—and even more so because he was the brother of the [official] in charge of the canicleus, against whom that man, as was heard, was nursing many grudges, if he could, and [fearing] that if he himself were lacking in funds, and if the soldiers under the other were deprived of rightful wages—in accordance with some providence, he sends Cannaburius ahead to the emperor’s sister, at once to reveal what was being done, and at the same time to inform him of the disposition of affairs there. But he himself was advancing slowly behind. B And not yet having reached Branchialium, there was reported to him from that place information, the greatest of suspicions, that perhaps the Italian would not accept the rank due to the suspicion concerning those things being brought, if they were not satisfied with the wages—a source of irritation. And even if he were clearly seen bringing gold, there was a fear that, being despoiled of it instantly, he might do some evil to the one bringing it. Because of these things, having learned the speeches, as quickly as he could, he settled into the fortress of [τζίμπη].
18. An oration to the assembled [men] by the Italian Rontzerius and the Caesar after a little while.
Then, having gathered the most prominent people from each of the regions, and having stood noticeably somewhere outside the fortress B of Gallipolis, he declaimed many bold things with severity [and...].
And living there for days, since he received nothing [of value] upon their arrival, he was to cross to the East. But Chumnus, indeed, being distrustful of how the person being put forward as Caesar should be approached by him, and all the more because he was the brother of the one in charge of the canicleus, against whom he [Rontzerius], as was heard, was harboring many resentments—if he could, as was heard, [fearing] that if he were well-supplied and the military under him were deprived of their due wages, he [Rontzerius] might act—by some providence he sends Cannaburius ahead to the emperor’s sister, both to declare what was being done, and at the same time to inform him of the disposition of affairs there. He himself proceeded slowly behind. And not yet having reached Branchialium, there were reported to him from there highly suspicious rumors, that perhaps the Italian would not accept the dignity due to the suspicion [aroused] by what was being brought, if they were not satisfied with the wages; for this was a source of irritation. Even if he were to appear, it was feared that, being despoiled of the gold, he might immediately suffer some evil and do the same to the one conducting him. Because of these things, having learned the discourses, as quickly as he had, he [sought shelter] in the fortress of Tzimpe.
18. An oration to the assembled [men] by the Italian Rontzerius and the Caesar after a little while.
Then, having gathered the more prominent [men] of each district, and having stood openly somewhere outside the fortress of Callipolis, he declaimed many things and daring things with gravity.
A regarding his own appearance; he recounted everything from the very beginning, setting forth his own actions and attributing the causes of the difficulties to the Emperor; he told of how he had attained that position of power and how he had been raised; and [he spoke of] how he had spent much time now allying himself with some, now warring against others; and how, due to the shifting turn of fortune and his constant busyness, he had proved himself a help to those to whom he came, giving them no room to find fault with his being summoned, while from those he felt forced to leave, he felt he had, as it were, been deprived of no small [opportunity] to render aid. He also recounted what had occurred in Sicily, and that after a long war, when peace had been established by those there, he himself—having become accustomed to being occupied with military training—had sent to the Emperor, and that, if he were willing, he felt entitled to offer aid to his [the Emperor’s] territory, which was in danger. He spoke of how he had been welcomed immediately, how he had been deemed worthy of imperial letters, which rewarded him with kinship by blood and the dignity of the Great Duke; and [how], on account of this, he had brought few men or as many as the Emperor had requested in his letters. And he spoke of how he had suffered much in the East, even if he had not succeeded against the Persians—who had shrunk back out of fear—yet [nonetheless] he had pressed hard upon Attaleiota as an opponent, B and that as he had long considered him one of the Emperor's subjects who had already rebelled, he had not spared him any struggles. Finally, regarding his coming to lay siege to the town, he claimed he had received imperial letters specifically preventing him from proceeding with the siege, which urged him to cross the Hellespont, on the understanding that horses, all provisions, and wages for the men were immediately ready, provided he arrived before Emperor Michael to deal with Mysia, without delaying at all. "But we," he said, "crossed over, arrived at our destination, and were putting into effect what was to be done, while the wages were being delayed." Speaking thus, the barbarian cast the blame upon the Emperor, as though they had suffered everything on account of him. He was arrogant and haughty in these matters; if any difficulty had occurred anywhere, he would shift the cause onto a pretext that sounded plausible, and he would transfer to the Emperor's excuse the causes for which the Italians had received blame due to their habitual wickedness, thus absolving those who had committed the acts from deserved reproach. Finally, [the barbarian] attempted to make the Emperor [the] culprit for all the crimes that his own brigands had committed, and for all the losses that had been brought upon the inhabitants of those regions. Indeed, with the same impudence of boasting, he proceeded to arrogate to himself and his men the praise for all that had gone well, while conversely attributing the far greater number of things that had turned out badly—and those misfortunes of war and the successes of the barbarians—solely to the Emperor's imprudence or parsimony. He proved this, not with appropriate arguments, but by the usual pride and injustice of the Latin race, burdening the Greek nation with the envy of those things in which he himself had sinned with his own men, and by acquitting them, he condemned us. At the end, he claimed that nothing had been acted upon injuriously by him or his own men.
he further added that they themselves were in no way at fault, but that, being deprived of their due pay, they were pillaging the countryside by necessity. Yet, he said, he was aware that Emperor Michael, having Roman forces about him, wished to march against them on the grounds that they were wrongdoers. A And he declared with certainty that, because of the oaths he had sworn to the Empire, he would indeed retreat step by step, even for forty paces, and from that point on, he would be concerned for his own safety and that of his own men; if he himself should fall, he would fall, and if the other should fall, that was fate. And for the future, they ought no longer to be concerned about their lord, as it was necessary to defend themselves against those who had risen up, rather than, having relaxed the effort for their own safety, to suffer shipwreck in the harbor. Spewing forth these and other like things, full of Italian arrogance, and in part glossing over the actions of the Italians and shifting them to reasonable causes, as he supposed, and in part shamelessly cajoling the emperors, he seemed more persuasive to himself and his own men than to those who were listening. Not more than ten days had passed from that time, when he understood that he had blundered with words that he ought not to have used, or rather, fearing the advance of Emperor Michael—for it was reported that he was gathering an army and was even being urged on by his B father the Emperor—he turned his ship back and sent letters full of submissiveness to the Emperor. In them, he apologized to him if, perhaps, anything sharp or otherwise unseemly had slipped out—[P. 357] suspecting the necessity imposed by the Italians and the danger arising from it—while asking the Emperor, however, to take into account how much of the countryside had been subject to the new exactions, and to keep for himself whatever part of this he wished, and to pay him only what remained from the thousands they were demanding, even if not the whole amount now, at least the greater part of the total for the time being, and to set a deadline for the remainder. If, however, he said, he himself was, as he claimed, a servant and still bound by his oaths to the Empire, he had with him a thousand men who were obedient, and as for the others, he would fight them if the Emperor wished, since their goal was either to obtain their pay and remain quiet, or, if they did not obtain it, to ravage the country, and he himself would join with the imperial forces in attacking them.
19. Another embassy of the Catalans to the emperor, and an explanation of their affairs.
The Catalans likewise sent three ambassadors to the emperor, and after an interval of fifteen days for deliberation, they expounded their case with a show of submission and a manner that seemed dignified and composed. Wishing to set before their eyes what they had done, and to demonstrate that they had already received much, whether he willed it or not, and had done nothing worthy of the pay they were drawing, the emperor, on the ninth day of the month of March, assembled his palace intimates, as well as those of the citizenry whose presence seemed useful for such a matter. Beginning from the very origin of events, he set forth the actions, demands, and merits of the Catalans. It seems appropriate to me to summarize his address here in brief. A First, he mentioned what their leader had requested when writing from Sicily, to what extent he himself had consented and had summoned him, and that he had by no means called for as many as he had brought. He recalled that he had agreed to receive them temporarily, because after wintering at Cyzicus and remaining there until the late spring, they had not only done nothing against the enemies, but had meanwhile inflicted many very grave injuries upon the inhabitants of that region. To these, he added what they had later done in the Eastern region, where, instead of the enemies, they had treated the Romans with many injuries and insults. And even now, having crossed the Hellespont, he pointed out how cruelly and shamefully they had harassed the Roman inhabitants of the Western tracts. If they thought anything of this was unknown or unheard of by him, they were greatly mistaken. B If one were to calculate the sum properly, anyone would find that they had already received more than enough in wages and pay. When there was cause for indignation that they were again seditiously and threateningly demanding what they had violently extorted—offending twice in the same matter and in an intolerable way—yet, exercising his accustomed clemency, he said he was not only not demanding back what had been seized, but was offering, in addition, a gratuitous gift of money to be paid to them if they would compose themselves to modesty, and was assigning a region in the Eastern continent where they might live comfortably, having already provided for ample food supplies, and where he ordered them to cross. But what of all this to them? They indeed bluster with their accustomed audacity, and, beyond obstinately refusing obedience, they do not even fear to utter insolent threats, not considering what kind and how powerful the Roman Empire is, and how easily it can both build triremes and equip them with brave troops, and so show that it is not in need of their assistance. Indeed, it possesses such a wealth of soldiers that it can, whenever it wishes, carry terror to nations far removed, even if it is currently languishing a little, worn down by the sudden calamities brought on by the sins of many, though not without the hope of quickly regaining its former strength. Let them, therefore, take counsel for their own affairs, and if they are wise, let them be content with the gratuities offered out of his pure liberality and proceed peacefully where they are ordered. But if they continue to rage, let them know for certain that he will no longer hesitate—for he is well able—to subject the rebellious scoundrels to the punishments they deserve; nor will he allow, as they have done until now, that enemies should treacherously present themselves as the most cruel foes to the Romans, under the name of allies. Furthermore, let them reflect upon themselves and their resources, and not forget what is manifest to all: that whatever they have earned, and what they live and breathe by, they have received from the Romans, those who—had it not been for him—must have perished long ago from hunger and want.
A For it is clear that those departing from there brought nothing forward into the future; rather, just as those living in deserts, so too they appeared from there, some naked and unarmed, B lacking even the means for daily sustenance. Yet now they sit idle and demand arrogant wages. What good deed have they done, or what act of brave warriors have they performed, even while seeing the enemies nearby—they who have been reared in wars and battles, as they say? For which, instead of being shamed, they even threaten to overrun the land, as if it lay before them as a wilderness, and as if they do not know that the Emperor and the forces around him are at their backs, whose onset—let alone their arrival—they could not even endure in rumor.
20. Promotion of the panhypersebastos dignity on the son of the Porphyrogenitus.
Having said these things and more to them, he favored the son of his own full brother, the Porphyrogenitus Constantine, with an adoption of greater honor than a nephew, at once indicating that he would have behaved well towards this boy’s father in everything and would have honored him to the end, had he not discovered him to be ill-disposed toward him. He honored the boy, who had not yet fully passed his seventeenth year, with the dignity of C panhypersebastos, though not with the form of this dignity as it existed from the beginning, but adorned him with the yellow insignia, which previously were the symbols of the Eparch, thereby making the Eparch henceforth without insignia in these respects. For so he had done previously in the case of the two Eparchs, the Hypertimos and the Chalceopoulos, having made them without insignia, saying that it was fitting for one who is near the Emperor, and indeed of his own blood, to be adorned with such insignia. D He sent orders to the forces around his son the Emperor that, since he had dismissed those men, they should assemble and encamp somewhere near Apro, and wherever the Catalans—the Amogabares—might set out, they should try to restrain them by war. And these things the Emperor was doing, neither dismissive at all of his son-in-law's zealous attachment nor severing the ties of kinship, but in every way pretending and
A having received the Caesarean insignia, his wife wore them—not because she had obtained them by lot, but as if by his disregard for those who had them. And he was doing these things, trying to keep the multitude from wavering about him, since he himself was also sending such messages to the Emperor.
21. Concerning the libel, and that which was perpetrated against the Armenian; and a public address by the Emperor.
Now Patriarch Athanasius, being for the most part supported by the Emperor, was not himself either, as it seemed, diminishing his attentions toward him; and this was all the more the case because it happened that many of those who were able to be with the Emperor and to cooperate for the good had abandoned him—some having voluntarily fled to other cities, and others having been involved in accusations by those for whose sake they had been detached from the Emperor. And for this reason, this man, seizing the occasion, was surrounded by constant vigils and litanies, summoning a company of monks and clergy and another multitude, and greatly over-suffering, in appearance, with the synods. Being the only one of the archbishops, the only one of the leaders B of the Church, putting others aside as if setting them in order, trying to dissolve the contentions of the multitude—even if the fullness of the Church was otherwise in a bad state, with the prominent living in need and disgrace. For the man’s character had not changed in the slightest from its former state, even though the Emperor, when he again appointed him to ecclesiastical affairs, was confident that his character had changed. Yet he was utterly unpersuadable and inflexible, and, if I may put it so, as unmalleable as the toughest beans; burdensome to monks, changing even the traditions of the monasteries themselves and strictly enforcing a single meal throughout the year, so as even to extend it always, and even if a feast of the Lord or C of the Paschal season occurred; burdensome also to clergy, and burdensome to the laity, bringing everything to bear upon divine ordinances, which not even those who were admittedly well-versed in divine matters had misused at all. And he walked about, being strengthened by the support of the Emperor, and everyone, and especially the notable ones, were ill-at-ease with what was being done by him. For his D character remained, [continuation follows...]
A different, most especially toward his sister. And how bitterly they fared with them—with those who seemed to be of a virtuous pretense, and those who seemed to be of a natural disposition, and those of a passionate disposition according to the custom of the ancients. From where this came, it is possible to discern from the persuasive reasoning. Indeed, he seemed unpleasant and of an unyielding character, and altogether difficult to deal with, not only to those who were initially splitting off, but also to others. The Emperor, however, did not so much stand by him as he did his own decision, as he seemed to indicate, regarding those things for which he had from the beginning determined, nor did he relax even a little in the high regard he had for him.
Since, however, certain defamatory pamphlets had been tossed about, reaching even into his own hands, saying terrible and discordant things, he also found no small amount of support for the reigning patriarch to be concocted for the following reason. The city, along with many others, also had Armenians as settlers. One of them had even previously hastened to the Catholic Church and been anointed with the holy myrrh. For this reason, he had an unloving disposition toward others of his own race, and they were reviling the one who had turned aside because of the conversion; his own sibling was also embittered toward him, and enmity was established between them. As they were reviling one another in one place, and he was threatening to report to the patriarch and to lay charge for the insults coming from them, one [P. 362] who was present among them and was indignantly upset, as it were, blasphemed against the accusation and the faith and the patriarch, showing himself to be a scorner, as if he cared not in the least if he were to be called to account. B A short time passed, and as he departed from there, while he was walking along the road, for no apparent reason he was tripped up and fell a terrible fall, and appeared to have paid the penalty for his blasphemy, being dreadfully crushed in his foot. Having learned of these things, the Emperor, and as is to be expected, judging the event to be a miracle, attributed the entirety of the wonder to the reigning patriarch, when it ought to have been, I think, attributed rather to God and to the faith, which that man had foolishly blasphemed. And immediately at dawn, he ordered a common assembly,
A and gave orders for the man who had broken his foot as was mentioned, to be carried in his litter; and when he had been placed in the midst, he delivered a long and wordy oration, B greatly extolling with brilliant praises the man whom he wished to commend, while he spared not to attack on every occasion those who had been cut off from him, or rather, who were privately envious of him, though it was in vain as far as moving them from their opinion was concerned. For whatever the emperor said had no power to change their minds, so that, on the contrary, they were more and more confirmed in their ancient judgments and hatreds against Athanasius. And though they suffered nothing from Athanasius, they would have suffered many more and more grievous things if the emperor had permitted him to indulge his malign nature to the extreme. For he strictly inhibited him, and by the instinct of his innate gentleness, warded off from them the savage and fierce assaults of those who were intent on destroying Athanasius.
22. Proclamation of Caesar Italus.
C Meanwhile, he who had been Great Duke—an Italus by race, but honored by the emperor with the title of son-in-law—sending frequently to the Augustus and entangling him in the artifices of his own frauds, finally donned the insignia of the Caesarean dignity sent to him by the emperor on the day when the resurrection of Lazarus is celebrated, and was acclaimed Caesar. He also received from the emperor thirty-three thousand gold coins. It was also agreed between them that there should be delivered to him one hundred thousand *modii* of grain, in accordance with the custom of those regions. D He himself had pledged that he would retain only three thousand brave soldiers from his troops, and having dismissed the rest, would cross over with them to the East. In the administration of all these things, he employed his accustomed wiles, deceiving them with various pretexts. For of those whom he had promised to dismiss, he sent many to Cyzicus, many to Pegas; nor did he place a small portion of them at Lopadium. Meanwhile, he openly fostered The Mpyrigerius, who was in rebellion against the emperor, and had familiar dealings with his bastard brother Theuderich and his pirate fleet, soothing them with suitable services. And for those Sicilians, he marked out a space for raiding the sea as far as Mytilene; but as for the Catalans, whom he had promised he would dismiss, he retained them against the pacts, inventing false excuses for his perfidy—at one time others, but at another that already habitual one, that he could not compel men who were unbridled, and who especially demanded the pay due to them long ago and not yet paid. Nor did he refrain from seizing the opportunity for fraud out of the commanded transport of grain which we have mentioned, that it should be measured out to him before he crossed into Asia. For lest the fixed number of *modii* could ever be fully completed, as each portion of it that the royal ministers had arranged to be brought together from the various regions of the Western territory to the prescribed place, he immediately ordered it to be taken away and exported by his own envoys, under the pretext of accelerating the migration of the Catalans desired by the Augustus, but in reality—as was clearly enough understood by those skilled in such matters—indulging his own insatiable greed and mocking the Roman Empire most licentiously. Under these circumstances, so that he might bind the emperor the more tightly to himself, as was opportune for the various ends of his intricate machinations, he ordered his mother-in-law and with her his pregnant wife to repair to the city to the emperor, so that they might allege
reasons plausible—drawn from the stubborn refusal of the soldiers—for why he was prevented from crossing; and he even professed to the departing ladies that he had no hope of being able to persuade the Catalans to make the crossing, or even of crossing himself as the Augustus ordered, unless they returned and brought back the petitions of the soldiers, completed and granted by the emperor, along with money sufficient for the full payment of all arrears of pay.
23. A How the Caesar went to Emperor Michael, and the matters concerning him.
He himself, taking with him a cohort of friends in whom he most confided, numbering about one hundred and fifty, decided to set out to Emperor Michael, who was staying at Adrianople, under the guise of paying his respects and seeing a prince whom he had not yet seen, and furthermore of bidding him farewell, standing as he was in preparation for the crossing to the opposite continent; yet he was driven to this by a deeper plan, which the sagacious suspected—namely, that being present in person, he might explore what kind of forces Emperor Michael had, and whether they were so formidable. For B Rontzerius was not so dull as not to understand—what was quite obvious—that this army was hostile and inimical to him and his Catalans, inflamed as they were by the report of the monstrous injuries by which they had most greedily and contumeliously harassed the Romans, their fellow citizens, and even many of their own acquaintances and kinsmen. Added to this impulse to avenge past crimes was the concern to forestall a future rebellion, of which many nearly manifest signs were soon to erupt. And in this regard, the zeal of the Alans was especially prominent, as were the ranks of the long-standing Persians under the Roman standards, who were called Turcopoles. These men were commanded in some instances by Bossilas, who was of Bulgarian origin. C Others obeyed commanders from their own people. The Roman legions, however, which were led by the Grand Primicerius Cassianus and the Grand Hetaeriarch Ducas, had occupied the more fortified places of Macedonia, which had been abandoned by the inhabitants for fear of the impending danger, at the command of the Augustus; and having pitched their camp all around, they had held that place as a static position for some days by now, abstaining indeed from engaging in battle with the Italians, yet giving them cause to surmise that they would not fail to make an assault upon them, as soon as, and whenever it was suspected, the defection they were planning broke out into action. The more prudent of our men, considering these things, hardly doubted that Rontzerius was aiming at this approach to Emperor Michael, cloaking it under another pretext to probe his mind, D especially when they remembered hearing by certain recent dispatches that whatever fortresses of the Western region had come into Rontzerius’s power, these had been studiously entrusted by him to Catalan commanders, with strong garrisons from that same people assigned to each for their protection. The twenty-eighth day of the month of March had therefore dawned, when Emperor Michael, who happened to be with the army at that time for the purpose of a military census, was informed of the Caesar’s arrival by Asan, the brother of the Caesarissa, his wife. Michael immediately inquired of the Caesar through envoys why, with what intent, and at whose prompting he was coming, and whether he had inclined his mind to this plan of his own accord; and he asked that, since he had already duly professed his obedience to him, he should state whether he wished to present himself to render the due veneration and to say farewell as he was about to soon take up his own
journey to the East. To all these things he responded with A obedient and humble replies, providing full assurance of his peaceable and submissive approach. It was the Wednesday of the week that they call that of Thomas, when, towards evening, he was admitted by the Augustus, and the Caesar was received with the honors appropriate to the dignity of both, and was even deemed worthy of participation in the royal table. On the following day, he entered the city of Adrianople together with the emperor; and on this and the following day he sought to soothe his host, the Emperor Michael, with every token of the most generous benevolence, while Michael in the meantime exhorted him greatly to deal with the Romans more modestly and mildly, declaring freely that it was not possible for them to tolerate any longer those tyrannical and rigid habits of his and his people. He, pretending to accept this admonition willingly, and as if he were in a hurry for the road he had been ordered to take, requested to be dismissed, taking his leave in the most obliging manner.
24. The Murder of the Italian Caesar
The Alans who were then in the retinue of Michael, having long been hostile to Kontzerios [Roger], were watching for an opportunity to take vengeance on him; they had with them that same George whose son the Catalans had killed at Cyzicus, as we have related above. Therefore, they followed him silently wherever he went. It happened that when he requested to be given a time for an audience with the Augusta, to which he alone was to be introduced, he ordered the Italians whom he led as companions to wait at a distance outside the doors of the palace. The Alans eagerly seized upon this moment as most suitable for their designs; finding the Caesar bereft of the protection of his men in the very entrance to the chamber of the Augusta, they pierced him from behind with a mortal wound in the kidneys. The author of the wound was George himself, exacting vengeance for his murdered son. By that blow, the Caesar fell immediately, a man who was indeed a barbarian and unjust, but yet generally of a great spirit and deep mind, and also acutely foresighted and swift in his counsel for war, and moreover sharp-witted in the opportunities for conducting affairs. B A clamor was raised by this sudden event, and a certain cohort of Asian soldiers stationed not far from there was the first to know what had occurred. They, mindful of the grave injuries with which Kontzerius had afflicted their own citizens and countrymen, and even the close relatives and kinsmen of many, rushed upon him with such rabies that they seemed to wish to lick his blood. Therefore, they tore the dying man apart with insatiable fury, and pushed his bloodless corpse out to a place apart. Consternated by this unexpected tumult, the Emperor Michael feared first of all for the Augusta herself, because he heard that violence had been committed in her chamber, lest she had suffered any evil. And having inquired and learned that she was safe, and that only the Caesar had been slaughtered, although he grieved at the fall of the man, yet, as he was prudent, he thought it must be urgently forestalled, lest any deadly commotion should arise from the desperate madness of the Latin Caesar’s companions. He first took the most careful pains that no sign of what had been done should reach those who were standing outside; and in the meantime, at his order, the guards, surrounding them in great numbers, while they were expecting nothing of the sort and were completely ignorant of the crime that had been perpetrated, ordered them in the name of the Augustus to lay the arms they were carrying upon the ground. Thus, without a struggle, he disarmed them, and having captured them all, he shut them up in prisons. C Following this, the leaders of the Alans, the authors and abettors of the slaughter, gave themselves into the sight of the Augustus and confidently excused the deed, saying that this false Caesar had been rightfully killed by them, both in vengeance for the robberies and crimes with which he had most insolently vexed the Romans, D and as a precaution against the rebellion which he—
A was most craftily weaving against the Augusti, as was evident from clear indications. Meanwhile, there was trepidation throughout the entire camp, as the soldiers of Michael everywhere exhorted one another to break out against the Latins, believing they would be the easier to defeat once their leader was dead. The Alans, in particular, quickly mounted their horses and rushed with another force into this incursion. The Augustus, having been informed of this, fearing not without reason that almost his entire force, rushing out without orders, unreconnoitered and in loose ranks, might be caught in an ambush or trapped in some unfavorable spot and, by some significant defeat, pay for their private rashness with a great public disaster, anxiously sent his uncle Theodore with others to try to recall them. But he achieved absolutely nothing, for they were all inflexibly hardened in their audacious purpose; besides, some had already advanced too far for those who had started out later to be able to overtake them. And so our men stumbled upon some scattered detachments and stations of the Italians, and finding them shaken by a certain rumor of the Caesar's death, easily routed and put them to flight, while driving off their horses and plundering their arms and money. B D When, however, the sad news of the event made its way more fully to reach all the Catalans, they all gathered at once to Callipolis, which they had long ago provided for themselves as a refuge for uncertain times. Rushing to this place with their first momentum, they poured the savage force of their burning anger upon the Romans found there, slaughtering them all, with no mercy shown even to those of tender age or infancy. Subsequently, however, considering that those of their own [party] who had accompanied the Caesar as he traveled, as well as some [others] living in Constantinople and dispatched to various parts to manage common business, would unquestionably be held by the Romans—for whom it would be useful, in order to redeem [them] by exchange, to have Romans in custody—they kept those they were able to seize unharmed. C They even attempted, through ambassadors, to persuade the bastard brother of Theuderich, who had a fleet not far away, to launch an attack and join them in the territories of the Empire. But since conditions were proposed from both sides, an alliance between them could not be formed. Finally, after the business of the Catalan association had turned out unsuccessfully for the Sicilians, the incursion and plundering of the islands proceeded freely for their profit; excluded from that hope, the Rontzerians placed all their confidence in the fortification of the Callipolitan citadel: in which, if they were besieged, they prepared themselves for an acrid and invincible constancy in resisting.
25.
How, provoked, the Catalans devastated the western regions.
But neither did Michael Augustus fail himself or the republic in such a critical turning point of affairs, but having obtained, by means of a truce—the best that was allowed for the time—a pause in the Bulgarian war, he sent the Grand Primicerius with no small part of the forces specifically belonging to him to attack the citadel of Callipolis. And he, having invested the place with a siege, fought strenuously against the Latins who were enclosed there and who often attempted to break out, though not [always] with favorable success in the alternate skirmishes. However, as time went on, and the Romans, on the one hand, grew weary from the long and fruitless siege, the Catalans, by receiving one after another the reinforcements of their own men brought by ship, grew so much in number that they dared to take possession of the field and spontaneously wage war by sending out sufficiently strong forces to devastate the surrounding regions. The cause of this setback was the new deception of Mpirigerios, who, knowing the easygoing nature of Andronicus, tried again to abuse it for the sake of his own men who were in danger, with exactly the result he had hoped for. For after the things we have spoken of concerning him, and the death of Rontzerios, he presented himself in letters sent to the emperor as being, clearly, subject to him and not wishing to depart from his sworn oath of obedience, with empty flourishes of words. Then, having obtained the...
A authority of the council as well, he set about recommending a truce and an agreement with the Constantinopolitans, as being more useful to the Romans than open assault, showing that to capture such a fortified citadel by force against its defenders would be a late and costly endeavor, paid for with the blood of many Romans. Therefore, he urged that he might make a pact on both sides for a cessation of hostilities for several days so that he might save from slaughter those whom he heard were perishing without gain, making the hope of such a delay a means for negotiating convenient and honorable conditions for both sides equally. Through this deceitful negotiation, he obtained more trust than he deserved, and provided the Catalans besieged at Gallipoli space to repair their fortress, which had been shaken not a little by the fierce assault, and to bring in provisions and garrisons, securing it most safely. Not content with this, they set the full force of their nine long ships and other smaller ones to work, and sent them out to devastate the Roman maritime regions on both sides. Their first attempts were the assault on Artake, which is the naval station of the city of Cyzicus, and on Proconnesus, both of which were in vain due to the strong defense of the inhabitants. By a different, bitter, fate, however, on the twenty-eighth day of the month of May, they attacked Perinthus and overcame it, killing all the men who were there, and they laid waste to the regions on either continent surrounding that city. Of the inhabitants, some were compelled to flee by fear, while others were reduced to power: some of whom they killed, and others they sold into slavery. Furthermore, for those I mentioned from the eastern side, opposite Perinthus, who had escaped slaughter and captivity by flight, the city was the one common refuge, as the greatest number from such a large neighborhood flocked to it, for which purpose the gates were kept open at night; one could see an immense crowd of miserable people, like B streams swollen by torrents, flowing in, bringing few things from their household goods—only what each could snatch up in haste while fleeing from home—stricken by terror of the Catalans. For on the same day they had gained Perinthus, they moved their ships to the opposite shore of Asia, and having landed their very confident soldiers on the shore, they set fire to the houses, spread fire through the fields, and raged with all the other cruelty of hostile fury against everything they encountered, consuming a great many mortals both by sword and by flame. The interior parts of most unfortunate Asia were suffering a different fate, as if an Empedocles, having emerged from the hold, were roaming about and searching, devastating all the eastern tracts from the Persians and sending even into the islands for this very same purpose. Whence the city was the one common refuge for so many varied, miserable people from both continents, from the neighboring islands, fleeing their homes and escaping the bloody hands of the Persians from the east and the Catalans from the west, who flocked to it equipped with no or only the meagerest of provisions.
26. Concerning the acts done by and because of the admiral.
Some time before these things happened, the emperor had received a certain Catalan who was fleeing with his own men and had honored him with the title of admiral. He judged him to be faithful to him and to be so in the future along with others who were fit, especially since he had changed his Catalan dogma and dress for the Greek, transferring himself into our social custom and not just our rites of sacred worship; for this reason, he was affected by many signs of love from the emperor, was adorned with many benefits, and above all was joined in lawful marriage to the noble virgin, the daughter of the Raoul Crassus. With so many pledges of mutual benevolence given and received, the emperor believed most securely and with certainty; he had determined to entrust him with an armed ship from the Italians, as well as soldiers provided with sufficient stipends whom he had placed under him, and to send him ahead against the enemies with the power of a trierarch, promising that he would send him further ships to restrain the pirates and hostile fleets infesting our sea. While matters were standing in this state of preparation and the admiral C was already bidding farewell to the Augustus as if soon to depart, behold, one who is called the count of the ship, the master and director of the rowers, reports to him that he had discovered, hidden treacherously as it appeared, beneath the deck of the trireme, more than fifty men D
armed Amogavar men. This fact, having been immediately discovered by the scouts sent out, rendered the perfidy of the trierarch notorious. Wherefore, he himself was kept under guard, and the soldiers discovered in their hiding places, as if they were to be more fully examined regarding the fact that they were not yet perfectly convicted of a malicious mind, were themselves also committed to custody, except for a few who had escaped during the initial tumult. B The fame of this matter immediately shocked the citizens in an incredible way, with the image of the horrible destruction into which the republic had almost been cast by too great a facility in believing. The first in this tumult were the foreigners, of whom we have spoken, those compelled into the city by the violence and terror of the Catalan incursion. They, as having experienced the barbarity of that nation into whose power the city had almost been given, wailed, as was natural, more impotently than the rest, claiming that they alone of all people knew what amount of ruin the Catalan servitude held, which they had all but encountered; and by easily spreading their grief among the plebs, which was loud with the contagion of the nearby danger, they gathered together the laments and wails of all those mourning simultaneously. Hence it proceeded to the causes of the evil, namely that it was necessary to entrust naval affairs to foreigners, because the Roman fleet had long ago been allowed to be consumed and destroyed from its foundations by the negligence of those in charge. If that had not been wrongly permitted, they would not now be exposed to these miseries. These things were poured forth by popular license into open blame of those administering the republic, whom they claimed were indeed going to ruin by dissolute and perverse councils. A growing murmur was increasing through the whole city, and matters were not far from sedition, with a crowd running together and shouting from everywhere, when the patriarch, having received word of this commotion, hurried forth from the house where he was staying, certain that he would risk nothing, seeking where there might be hope of soothing and composing the multitude, now wild with tumult, into obedient quiet. Therefore, as much as he could by struggling to feign it, he sought, by the art of popular favor—a man little made by nature for that—to reconcile to himself the grace of the enraged multitude, mingling himself in mid-day into dense wedges of people pushing one another and running hither and thither blindly. C There he especially called the foreigners to himself, as those who were, according to custom, the primary authors of the tumults. And having drawn no few of them to himself, and leading them into a temple that happened to be nearby, he delivered a long peroration, as he thought, accommodated to pacifying their minds and curbing the sedition. In it he displayed sentiments in the greater part agreeable to the judgments of the listeners, equally blaming the magistrates for many things. Finally, that very most invidious head of their complaints, concerning the Roman fleet which had been cast away by the carelessness of the rulers, he aired and exaggerated, speaking not sparingly, and he himself affirmed loudly in this that a sin had been committed, and that most perniciously, and of his own accord promised that no hope of restoring public security shone forth unless ships, as of old, were equipped with Roman crews to guard our sea and the ports from external violence. The people, burning with anger, were gladly hearing that the same things were being said by the patriarch that they themselves felt. D Whereupon he, using that moment of favor promptly to calm him—that is, the people—affirmed most eloquently and solemnly promised that he would fully take care that this part of the affairs of the republic, which had been badly managed hitherto, would be immediately succored. Therefore they should surely hold that they would soon see an armed Roman fleet; which even he himself, if there were need, would alacritously board and lead against the enemies infesting the Roman sea. Nay, even that he was now setting out to urge that matter, and to demand as helpers in that business those whose zeal for the public safety he perceived to be prominent in the very assembly. Thus he led away the very heads of the disturbances with him, in a manner of gaining popular favor not mediocre and not easily expected from his normally rigid character.
A They did not cease, however, to turn against other houses, and especially those of the magnates, yielding to the demagogic speeches of those who urged them on and even more so to those who incited them. And under the pretense that the Catalans were hiding within them, they made attempts even upon those whom they had other grievances against.
27. Concerning the sixteen long ships that appeared from Genoa.
B Indeed, for the Genoese on the other side of the Pera, they had no means to take vengeance; but learning that certain men were being guarded in the house of Raoul the Fat, among whom the Admiral was reported to be, they flocked there in great numbers and demanding them with vehemence. And as it was not easy to slay those who had been surrendered so readily, [P. 370] they immediately set fire and burned that house, and everything belonging to it; and not a few terrible things occurred at the houses of those who dared to resist. The Catalans, holding out firmly even to the death, were cleansed by them with great effort, at once by iron and by fire, with no one being able to restrain the rush of the multitude. For even the patriarch, having arrived, tried with soothing words to restrain the impulse, but he, having surmised both the danger of the terrible deeds being done and how formidable they were as one would expect, and appearing differently to them by giving in rather than acting as he had originally intended, and hoping much, he... [P. 371] And the evil would have progressed, were it not that on that very night sixteen long ships from Genoa, loaded with merchandise and expected, arrived, with a moderate south wind blowing, sooner than the time of expectation. For the Catalans and Amogavars, having anchored at Rhegium—as indeed it appeared they would—were inflicting upon our merchants there, who were stationed at the neighboring naval depot of the city, acts of more than hostiley savage cruelty, in order that they might scatter the terror of themselves far and wide. For they had pierced young children there, found in the vicinity, through the anus into the mouth as if with a spit; the adults, however, after they had first compelled them to carry their own goods on their own shoulders to where those wild robbers wished their plunder to be heaped, they then inhumanly slaughtered, and committed other things consistent with these, surpassing by far in their barbarous frenzy every Stygian [wickedness].
Such things, then, occupied them, and they were mocking the calamities; but as late evening fell, the triremes appeared, sailing through the sea. Catching sight of them from a great distance with difficulty, they imagined them—as they appeared—to be their own (for, from the envoys whom they had previously sent to Sicily, they were expecting a relief fleet, and they were spinning dances and leaping, and were prepared immediately, just as they had been prophesied to do, to join forces with Constantine). But when they drew near and the symbols became visible, and it was clear that they were Genoese sailing [along], they lowered their confidence, yet they had not completely despaired of better things. For they hoped that, by mingling, they would propose terms of peace, since it was not at all likely that the ships of their own lineage sailing through every day would be harmless and unscathed, if they were not allied with them. For not even a few of them were being guarded in the city by the Genoese, so that even a ship laden with necessary supplies for them had [the ship] of their own released, since the ship had been captured by the emperor's men; and the Genoese, being vexed at this, had sent men who would slaughter the emperor's ship-master and kill him; and because of these things, those men had become objects of the emperor's wrath. And although they paid the ultimate penalty both for this and for another preceding cause, of which we shall speak presently, had not the falling out [of events] softened the ruling [emperor], as he hoped for greater aid from them, and it exempted them. And proclamations were incessant from both sides—with the Romans already having taken the field—that none should dare anything against the others, or if they did, they would suffer the gravest penalties as contemners of the orders issued. Relying on these, the Amogavari B awaited the arriving Genoese. But they, disembarking and observing the burnings, were in astonishment and wished to learn what had occurred. And as they approached the harbor, the aforementioned Mpyrigerios, who was leading the Amogabarian fleet, goes to those in charge of those Genoese ships, and from beginning to end, their affairs... D
they were pursuing for the sake of A revenge, and that they were also allies to them, as can be learned from many sources, if they should will it; but that the Emperor was also angry at them and held them in the greatest wrath for many other things as well, but especially because by aiding the Freres they fell from their established seat in the city, and it so happened that they became objects of wrath for them, and were completely detached from the Emperor, so that the gates of the city were closed to them and their accustomed access to the Emperor was taken away. These and many other things Mpyrigerios brought together, attempting to soften the minds of the Genoese, so that they might depart on terms of peace. But they, doing something wiser and separating their own affairs, sent men that very night to the city to learn everything from their own kin, and what the Emperor’s will toward them was. And one swift trireme sailed straight for the city, for the sake of certain information, toward the Genoese in the city.
28. Concerning those things that occurred regarding the Freres in the city.
It will not be amiss, I think, meanwhile to clarify the matter regarding the Freres for us. A space was vacant, of public right and use, near the forum, which when the Latin Frere monks requested to be sold to them, with the Emperor’s consent, they obtained after paying a set price. The reason for their purchasing it was their desire to build a monastery there for themselves; having immediately set to work upon taking possession of the ground with labor and expense, despite many and varied interpellations from those trying to oppose them, they quickly brought the building to completion and furnished it splendidly and magnificently with everything suitable for habitation and the performance of sacred rites. This affair was quite displeasing to many of our people, both for other reasons and especially because of the vehement aversion with which they abhorred the rites and doctrine of the Latins, whose public exercise of sacred discipline in the city they could not endure, being silently convinced by an even more burning zeal for their own superior religion. Therefore, instigated by these, the Patriarch did not hesitate to proceed, having rejected and rescinded the agreements, however much they were strengthened by the Emperor’s assent, to drive the Latin monks from there and to profane the sacred building, adorned in the Italian manner, in which they performed sacred rites according to their own rite. This, however, seemed very bitter and intolerable to the Freres to be attempted. And they argued against it most contentiously that it was not right that a sacred monastery, established by public authority and confirmed by a possession of some time now in the realm of their own peculiar laws and ceremonies, in which an altar stood erected for the performance of sacrifices, in which praises were sung to God by ritually consecrated men according to ecclesiastical custom, in which concerning
A the burial places of deceased Christians, they were instead to be profaned and turned into a common public lodging. Those things which by no one could be done, they stated, were by no means fitting to be attempted by those who professed a more fervent zeal for the worship of God. Although they constantly put forward such arguments, they achieved nothing, at least not with a man such as the patriarch, who was accustomed to move irrevocably toward what he had intended. Therefore he, indulging his predetermined inclinations and persuaded by that zeal for exact religion by which he was moved, felt that he absolutely had to prohibit any other rite, especially the Latin one, from being freely practiced, particularly in such a public place in the metropolis of his patriarchate. He urged what he had begun no less remissly, and implored the help of the emperor to break through the obstacles he could not remove by his own power. Andronicus was swayed by his nod, and he could not deny him anything, nor argue against him on any matter, having long cultivated his patriarch as a man of extraordinary sanctity and great grace before God. Thus, he ordered by his own authority the removal of the Friars that he desired, applying such moderation in the carrying out of this invidious task that he conceded to the Latin man, Amerala, the property of the site and the ground to be taken away from the Latins, while professing himself ready to refund the expenses which the Friars had incurred for the purchase and decoration of the place. They, however, refused this, showing that they could not be brought by any condition to abandon their own temple, for which they would not have hesitated to spend their lives to defend it to the end. They saw indeed that it was not within their power to resist the emperor's commands, yet they trusted, because of the reverence for sacred things they had heard that Andronicus fostered, that he would by no means go so far as to order the sacred vessels of the Christian temple to be taken by force and dispersed. Therefore, refusing as they were commanded to transfer their goods elsewhere, they promised themselves that no one else would move them from the place against their will, assuming the Augustus would not dare to ordain such a thing. And they slept so securely in such confidence, sitting with the sacred vessels and vestments openly left in the clearing, that they appeared to fear nothing less than violence from the imperial ministers. B Meanwhile, those who had once urged Andronicus to undertake this task, not ceasing to press him to complete what had been begun, finally moved the prince—who now clearly saw that the Latin monks would never willingly yield, nor could the matter be accomplished without force—to give an order to the exarch of the Pisans, who lived in houses near the Latin monastery, that he should take priests from the church of the Apostle Peter, which was close by, and lead them into the Latin temple, and thereafter transfer the prefecture and possession of the site to them in perpetuity. He commanded him to record in a precise inventory, under the testimony of men worthy of trust, both what he should find in the Latin temple and what he should transfer elsewhere, taking careful precaution that no one of them should be defrauded of any of his property. He also ordered that, besides this, all the sacred furniture found in the monastery of the Friars, once taken and counted, should be reverently carried by the Greek priests and deposited in the aforementioned temple of the Prince of the Apostles. When these things were done and fully carried out, and the transfer of the sacred vessels, books, vestments, and other things of that kind which had been in use by the Latins was completed, the Friars, struck by the unexpected event and having nothing else to do, poured out all their anger upon the Pisan exarch who had led the affair. Complaining bitterly, they accused him before the Genoese living in Pera, begging that he be punished for his merits as a sacrilegious man and a contemner of the common religion. The magistrate of the Genoese considered that a just thing was requested of him, and that it would be a glorious deed for him to take a severe vengeance upon the Pisan. Therefore he sent out assassins, who, having surrounded him secretly, reduced him almost to death by beating him with atrocious blows; for he did not wish him to be killed outright for certain reasons, but rather to be marked with deep wounds by the sword, short of death. The emissaries did what they had been ordered, and rushing from an ambush into
A the presence of the Genoese leader A, B they commanded that the city gates be barred, and brought the act to the judgment of the Commune, since another was on the point of taking over the office in accordance with the established trust. Mpyrigerius at that time seized upon this as a pretext for scandal, and tried to alienate their minds from the emperor, not knowing—or perhaps deliberately ignoring—that the emperor had already appeased them and was taking them on as allies, having been informed of what was being done to them. When, in the dead of the night, the ship arrived and the news of the fleet's arrival was reported to the Genoese, and furthermore the matter of what was to be done was being inquired into, as they were immediately to turn back and deliver the reports—those men, having arrived at the emperor's under torches, received the permission to depart from there, as if they would submit to fighting if they were opposed; but if they were to resist, they were to be dealt with immediately. And there was a large Roman multitude by morning, some standing along the shores for defense, and others to be on the sea. For he did not consider that he himself would do nothing, while they would do everything. Thus, weapons were in their hands, and they were returning.
29. How the Amogavars and Catalans were defeated
The emperor led out ten thousand armed men; and this convoy of ships filled the strait as they were sailing across to Rhegium. The men who had been sent had not yet properly arrived, and a fierce battle was being formed for them from daybreak—this being due both to the realization from that point, and because of necessity. For Mpyrigerius B, having despaired of peace with the commanders of the Genoese fleet, had attempted to alienate the fleet's sailors from them: for he had sailed around, and had busied himself trying to bribe the captains of the individual triremes with promises of great wealth, so that they would refrain from battle and C that the ships might be turned against those who would resist them. D For he either did not know—or was pretending not to know—that the emperor had already been appeased toward the Genoese, and having granted a long and generous pardon for their past actions, he had even offered them approved and accepted terms for renewing the treaty and restoring the alliance. He had energetically forestalled this by announcing the arrival of the often-mentioned triremes from Genoa, and from the resulting fear of the evils threatening the city if they, especially joining their forces with the Catalan fleet, should openly attack the Romans in war. Therefore the ship, which we have mentioned, sent for reconnaissance, arrived at Galata at the same time, and landed those sent to learn the state of affairs on shore; they, having been immediately informed by the moderators of the republic regarding the best [course of action] toward the people [of the Emperor], denied that there was any longer room for deliberation as to whether they should join their arms with him or with his enemies, the Amogavars. They decided that they must fight without any hesitation against the attackers of the city, which was common to them and the Romans as if it were their own fatherland. Upon this news having been brought to the fleet which was waiting outside in the sea, and having returned quickly, certain delegates from it departed to the emperor in the middle of the night by torchlight, and were kindly received by him. In that conversation, it was determined that the Amogavar and Catalan fleet, unless it chose of its own accord to yield and depart having accepted the terms of peace, should be attacked by the Genoese. The emperor promised that the Roman forces would appear at daybreak, partly arranged along the seashore to shoot at the Catalans from there, and partly brought up from the bank in fishing boats, so that they might acquit themselves like men in the naval battle. Indeed, he said that he did not want his own men to sit as idle spectators of their allies' struggle, but [that they should] take upon themselves a part of the labor and danger as was fitting, struggling for their altars and hearths. Departing from these agreements with the Emperor, the Genoese legates returned to their own men through the darkness of the night, each with a torch in his hand.
despairing of peace, and promising the admirals great sums of money if they were allowed to go free. And as they were thus becoming softened, the A passengers, jealous that they might not themselves be gainers, immediately at dawn began the battle. At first they provoked the Amogabari with skirmishing shots, then, forcing them into the necessity of fighting, they surrounded them. Not a few fell on both sides, and many were wounded; but the Genoese prevailed, and captured the ships by force, only one of them escaping. For Mprygerius, as soon as he approached the commander of the ships, seeing that his proposals were fruitless, entrusted his own blood to him and, creeping into the lowest part of the decks, while those above fought, he himself remained completely out of the fight.
On the next day, which was the thirty-first of May, in B the midday calm, one could see the triremes sailing up the channel with oars and whistling—though the ones in good order and with greater confidence, their standards fluttering in the wind, and the ones that had been defeated in disorder and confusion, rocking under the swell and dragged by long cables attached to the bows of those preceding them, acting as small boats, C and carried wherever those led them. As soon as they rounded the acropolis, they refused to take the direct route to their own people in Galata, but sailed above and rested near the middle of the shore of Saint Phocas, staying short of the landing. The next day they brought those captured ships, together with their passengers, to their own people and kept them under close guard. The victors themselves, summoned by the emperor, went to him and were received with fitting marks of honor and goodwill. And for the admirals, the delays were exchanged by the emperor for more generous favors, while for the rank and file, provisions for a feast and wine were given. However, having stayed there for D some days, they could not be softened by such kindness to give the emperor any of the fruits of victory, nor did they donate a single part of the booty or spoils, nor even one of the captives. Everything was offered for sale, with a high price set on each; they declared they would give nothing for free.
Then, when the emperor invited them to agree to go on a campaign against the Catalans holding Gallipolis for a promised wage, they first disputed the total sum of money to be paid by the Augustus for this purpose; meanwhile, a disagreement having arisen about this among the leaders of the fleet—at the instigation, I think, of the Galata Genoese who had already, as I said, been occupied by a previous pact with the Catalans—all suddenly weighed anchor and set their course toward the land of the Lazi [P. 377], taking with them the chief men of the Amogabari and Mprygerius, having sent off only one of their triremes to their own people to declare what had happened.
How the Romans were defeated in war.
A The origin of these evils was folly. It was a deception; for the Emperor was from that point concerned with how he might drive out those at Callipolis, since indeed on the one hand support was reported to be reaching them, and it was heard that they were wishing to summon the Persians from across the sea. And those around the illegitimate brother of Theuderich were also expected to appear again. But the young sovereign Michael was not neglectful; rather, he himself, having left Adrianople and arrived at Pamphylum, sent against the Amogabari occupying Callipolis those around the great hetar-arch Ducas, and the great tzau-sius Umpertopulus, and a third, Bossila, all of them sufficiently provided for war, and even they, having pitched camp from Branchi-alium, were ready to attack wherever they might appear.
But the others, having been relieved of their fears from within (for they did not even allow the survivors of those who had been plundered to remain inside the fortress, but having loaded the wretched burdens together with their own wealth into their respective boats, they kept them well-guarded), devised the battle from that position. And having driven out a very large amount of livestock as if they were suspecting nothing B and they themselves, both horse and foot, skilled in the handling of weapons and, to look at, invincible, lay in ambush.
Then indeed, the main body of the Roman formations was in arms and expecting battle, but most of them, scrambling about the plunder that had appeared, scattered in disorder. And immediately those lying in ambush set out as orderly and cautiously as possible. For on either side of one horse, two foot soldiers were arrayed, armed with Italian bows; and they themselves, with shields and javelins—native spears which in ancient times were called *angones*—emboldened themselves for the war. Those who had engaged joined battle with vigor. And men fell on both sides, but for a while the Catalans were superior, and they pursued and slaughtered even as far as the place called Monocastanum. The report, however, places the slaughter at two hundred, with their own leaders also being struck.
Then the Emperor, having learned what had happened from royal dispatches from abroad, was very pained, and was in regret that he had not entirely persuaded those Genoese to undertake the war against Callipolis by promising them all they wanted. For there had intervened a certain parsimony in his bargaining for the fee they requested; had this been removed, and had he promptly and liberally given them the stipends they demanded for that military service, it was apparent that they would have immediately shouldered that difficult task of driving the Amogabari from Callipolis. Now, by calculating avariciously, and by not representing immediately and readily the sum that he himself was offering, he had taken from them the will to undertake the matter; had they attempted it, this defeat of the Romans, which he now mourned, would not have followed. The Genoese had requested that the expedition to Callipolis be [undertaken] without any delay immediately after the defeat of...
the fleet at Pegae, for the price of six thousand gold pieces. The Emperor, being sparing of money minted for such a payment, had sent them unrefined gold in place of coinage, having charged his own men to verify its value by checking the weight on a scale so that they might make up for them the sum in question. While the business of weighing and calculating was slowly prolonged by altercations, and they complained that they were suffering no small loss by such a money exchange into bullion, they had the leisure to think of other things. Under the prompting of those who were hostile to the Catalans, B so that they might be more easily persuaded, a small indignation arose from that very reason by which they were moved, namely the diminution of the expected reward. Therefore, repenting of their show of willingness, they sent back to the Emperor the gold brought to them as payment. The pretext, however, was merely that loss which they alleged was emerging from the conversion of the money into bullion. Augustus, however, accepted that he would compensate for whatever loss there might be from another source. And so he sent men who could provide this supplement and complete the business, with all delays removed. But, as I said, it was too late, for they were already alienated and had turned to different counsels. Therefore, proffering their own merchandise, the accounting of which demanded their prompt departure to the Lazes, they refused precisely to wait for other matters and departed at once. When the Emperor learned this, he expended the stipends destined for his own Romans upon the Genoese, procuring triremes by the aid of which he might repair the damage of the disaster that had been sustained. For the strength and power of the imperial office were not lacking, but while it was flourishing and vigorous like the head of the republic, the hands and the instruments of the actions then necessary were languishing—that is, the military forces of the Romans, which as it were formed the body, for which the power of the ruling prince acted as the soul, were weak; and his own efforts were in vain, while the infirmity and defect of the limbs of the republic rendered all his endeavors fruitless.
However, that weakness appeared when they began to stir; for straightway, like tiny creatures of tender age attempting to walk before they have the strength, they collapsed. And just as in these newly born animals, from that slight and feeble movement of theirs, a sure proof is indeed taken of the soul put within them, which is endowed with its own faculties but which is still destitute of the instruments for exercising them, owing to the fluid softness of the limbs not yet strengthened by the due increase of [bodily] growth, so we understood that certainly there was an imperial spirit beneath the promptings of the prince moving in diverse ways in operation and act; but because of the corruption of the ministers who were feebly obeying the right execution of his instructions, the supreme situation hung nonetheless in a precipitous state, with that infirmity—like a palpitation of the enervated limbs of the republic—applying no effective remedy to public evils. These limbs, laboring to walk with that stumbling and sliding motion, tripped at every step and moved nothing but laughter in the enemies; for they were like the running about or the affectations of acting seriously attempted by little children—those things we call *pægnia*, that is, playful puerilities, C spectacles offering a sight to be mocked, while they manifest vain undertakings and nothing is accomplished by the striving of a perfect soul in imperfect organs.
31. The Emperor’s harangue concerning the disorder of the people and concerning oaths.
For that reason, seeing first the impulse of the people disorderly and stirred up toward innovations, which if someone were somehow to provoke it, he judged it opportune, for the sake of the unruly and for the suppression of disorder, to introduce military D forces into the city. But besides that, as a sort of bit placed upon the plebeian contumacy, on the Calends of June themselves, which was the day that dawned after the Amogavari had been defeated by the Genoese, first with…
a long and grandiloquent speech he put forward a defense of his actions regarding the Catalans. A He demonstrated that he had been driven to this by the ultimate necessity, because the Roman forces had been reduced to extreme weakness; and that it was correctly and prudently—however little the outcome might have matched the good intention—that he sought supplements of foreign military power, hiring them as auxiliaries, first the Alans, then the Italians. Nor, he said, had he done this alone or for the first time, since John Ducas had also taken on a certain William and elevated him to Roman court dignities, and in more recent memory his own father, Michael, had honored Icarius with the splendid title of Grand Duke. Verily, he had in no part ceased his efforts, nor had he ever omitted anything that any hope, however slight, suggested might serve to sustain the tottering state and the safety of the people. Therefore, the ruins of affairs which were visible should not be imputed to his negligence; rather, they should be attributed first to divine wrath, which was avenging our sins, and afterwards to the sloth and carelessness of those in charge of affairs, through whom it was sufficiently evident that most of the losses providing matter for public mourning had been incurred. When he had added many things similar to these, he finally rounded off the sum of his oration by earnestly enjoining everyone, once the heat of their spirits was compressed, to be quiet, to attend to their own private domestic affairs, and not rashly to thrust themselves into the care of public government. They should strive to live so manfully that, by a change of customs for the better, they might render themselves worthy of more prosperous fortune by the judgment of the One who governs human affairs; but they should leave the free authority of governing public matters to him and such ministers as he might choose to employ for that purpose, without curiously questioning the plans of those in power or struggling with empty divination concerning future events which are uncertain. Nor should they be satisfied merely to contain themselves individually in such modesty; rather, if they saw any persons making a beginning of stirring up tumult, they should strive to restrain them by immediately rising up against them, in which they would have as prompt assistants the soldiers D whom he had introduced into the city for this very purpose. Through their help, if they relied on their own faith as much as was fitting, they would avert a calamity from the city—a sedition such as many, as they partly remembered themselves and partly could recall from the instruction of annals and ancient memory, had at various times brought peoples to the extremes of evils. For in truth, they held that no destruction of an external war, however bloody and internecine, was so great that, when compared with the losses and ruin of civil strife, it would not be found more tolerable and lighter. For never by seditious conflicts is the safety of men or the protection of households and property consulted; but on the contrary, through them, the civil peace and consensus, which are the primary foundations of all goods, are lost with irreparable damage, and all things fall into the most miserable confusion. And just as that is the worst of all deceptions by far, whereby a man is deceived by his own self—because the deceiver is brought into such intimate and inseparable contact with the deceived, and because of the vulnerability of the deceived person to succumb to the guile of a deceiver who is so dear and close as to be unsuspected—so that is the most capital kind of war above all others, by which the citizens of one city are set at odds with one another; a war where that raging fury applies torches to a pile of kindling prepared and heaped up within, from whence a conflagration breaks out that will consume everything. Since these things are so, he desired above all else, and pursued with the highest diligence as the greatest of all desirable things, a tranquil state of civil concord. Since such a state ought always to be sought, it appeared most necessary at this time, when, with affairs in turmoil externally, it was inevitable that the city itself should be shaken by the motion and din of the regions tottering all around it; for if an internal tumult were added to that external pressure, it was manifest that everything would irrevocably tumble headlong. In such a slippery and dangerous moment, he, for the duty of vigilance in common...
A safety, having perceived the restless agitation of some, which was ready to break out on a trivial pretext into crises ruinous to the state, and seeing that he could barely restrain himself, judged it necessary to call together the military forces he saw within the city. He intended these to be a defense for the good ones, and to bridle the license of the light-headed and the unsound, who were ready to ruin themselves along with everyone else. He urged that the decent men should consider what had been decreed for the common safety; and that they should not be burdened by indicating this, and should again profess outwardly the faith which they cherished intact in their hearts toward the sovereigns, confirming this with God as witness. Thereupon, the book of the holy Gospel having been brought forth, all who were present were summoned one by one, and were ordered to lay their hand upon it, swearing holily that they would keep the faith which they owed to both Augusti, and that they would abstain from all dissension and turmoil themselves, and if any others should chance to start a tumult, they would repel them with both hands, as the saying goes. Then, the assembly having been dispersed through the city, the same ceremony of taking the oath was immediately renewed, with imperial ministers hurrying about in various directions with the sacred book in their hands, and compelling everyone they found in all the streets and gatherings of men to take the oath. These were the things then done within the city.
32. Concerning the battle of the Emperor Michael against the Amogavars.
The Emperor Michael was not resting from the battle, but was moving every stone, as they say, so that he might reverse the defeat; for his noble and brave spirit could not endure to hear or see the terrible things which the wretched Romans were suffering at the hands of the bloodthirsty Catalans. Whence, having left Orestiada, he encamped around the castle called Apro, a place very near to it, fixing his tents at dawn as if he were about to join battle with the Italians; for they also were encamped nearby B. Therefore, on the following day, having drawn up his lines at the place called that of Imerus, he stationed the Alans and Turcopoles in the leading ranks, placing them under the command of Bossila. Behind these he arranged the Macedonians, over whom the great primicerius presided. To these he joined those led by his uncle Theodore, who had come from the East. The Blachic contingent, and whatever other volunteer forces were gathered, he also arranged according to their manner around the great hetaireiarches, whom he ordered to guard the rear on that day; he himself was together with Constantine, his own brother and despot, and with the pincerna Sennacherim the Angelos—for he himself preferred not to lead the troops, but rather to be occupied around the monarch and to be concerned for his safety. Thus, having disposed his ranks, and having taken with him all his own most warlike troops, he was filling up the final C company. The Roman forces altogether filled the number of five major legions, while those of the adversaries were but four, one of which was of Persians: for the Catalans had summoned the Persians. Under these circumstances, when the hand-to-hand combat joined, the Alans on one side and the Turcopoles on the other rushed forward and struck the first ranks of the Catalans, but were received by them fearlessly and firmly, for they stood like a tower; nor did they yield even one step to anyone, no matter how much they might maneuver and assault them from all sides. Protected on all sides by heavy armor, they were confident in their own shields and despised both the missiles cast from either side and [those of] their own men disposed on both sides, trusting sufficiently that help would not be wanting in time. And thus, indeed, they held their position, resisting bravely. However, the Turcopoles and Alans who had run ahead did not join to that first alacrity of vivid impression the perseverance to press on, but D
immediately swerving to the other side, they offered an appearance of retreat—to those observing and to the appearance of what was seen, as though they were abandoning the battle; but in a deeper view, and to those suspecting the truth, they might be written down as willing deserters, because, not having received their pay, they were lukewarm toward the practice of war. B There are some who say that the message from Toctai to the Emperor concerning their recall had become known to them (for it was clear that Toctai, having sent embassies to the Emperor, was claiming them as his own and as subjects of the Tocharan realm from the beginning); because of this, they slackened their intensity, having weaker resolve and wavering. But this struck fear into those who were coming up behind, and they were unenthusiastic about the battle. Seeing this, C and as was natural fearing for the whole situation, the Emperor himself was compelled to fight with his own person; and so he was ready to move into the battle. But the horse intended for this, due to some divine chance and a cause known to no one, loosened its bridle, let the reins slip from the hands of the groom, and itself, as it was, leaped across the plain and reached the enemy. Having thus mounted another and taken a spear in his hands, he charged with all his might with the few Amogavari around him and showed heroic courage, D immediately performing the work of war himself. And at that first charge, one fell, having been struck by the spear and tumbled down, and a second became the prey of his sword. But at the same time, as two others rushed with shields straight at the Emperor, coming close to the point of danger, one from one side the pincerna, and from the other a youth—one of the royal pages—received the charge of both and stopped it, proving their salvation in that most immediate crisis for the Prince. A For many of the enemy, recognizing him by the imperial insignia which he conspicuously wore, were running at him from all sides and vehemently attacking, redoubling their blows, of which some, having broken through his armor, were inflicting wounds upon his person, however much he, variously leaning and dodging, attempted to evade most of the strikes, maintaining meanwhile his firmness in the undertaking and not admitting the thought of retreating, until, as the Romans were now fleeing on every side, the Prince, repeatedly urged by the brave men who were standing around him—who were few—not to drag everything to ruin with himself, B finally giving in to the necessary counsel, retreated, while the enemy continued to follow relentlessly. BARELY HAD HE MOVED himself a little way from the battle in this retreat—his soul, which bore his noble intent, being moved with immense pity for the Roman state—when, amid tears, like what is told in a similar case about Agamemnon, he was tearing the hair from his head, the heat of his spirit recurring as he was pushed to face the enemy again, and he would certainly have complied, had not the force of his companions on all sides, who were blocking him beyond the manifest protestations of prudence in such a fortune, withstood him. And here, God having mercy on us, the vain
A terror of traps set by our men, into which they intended to lure them by the simulation of a crafty flight, fell upon the victorious enemy. This cause, holding them back from pursuing further, gave Michael space to evade their hands. As for the other Romans, they were dispersed in various ways and sought safety where each could. The Emperor, having reached Pamphylum with difficulty, rested there. The report of this disaster having been spread far and wide, there was no one among the farmers—even though it was the height of summer, a time when their labor in the fields for gathering the ripe crops was most needed—who wished to remain outside of Constantinople. Moving in long lines from all sides like ants, driving before them their household goods loaded on wagons, they fled into the city, abandoning their harvests, which they left behind partly in the fields not yet cut by the sickle, and partly in the threshing floors, gathered in sheaves into stacks, yielding them to the enemies and counting it as profit that they might escape barbaric servitude or the sword, even if naked and destitute of everything. The victorious barbarians, when they had sufficiently dispelled the suspicion of an ambush that had deterred them from following those they met, gave everywhere cruel examples of their greedy ferocity by laying waste to everything in their path. Then a plan was born to them to besiege the citadel called Apro, because they had learned from battle that many had taken refuge in it, and they judged it to be filled with booty. Therefore, having moved up their forces, since they were repulsed with distinction and achieved little, and hoping for no more from perseverance, they decided to lift the siege and return. In the meantime, the Alans, having once lost their benevolence toward the rulers, thought it a good deed to plunder everything they met and to practice brigandage freely. Therefore, those who should have been held as friends showed themselves as enemies by their wild crimes. Andronicus, having learned all these things, and both feeling and professing the sorrow that was fitting for the disaster received, wrote B at once letters of consolation to his son the Augustus, but he sent Cutzimpaxim to the Alans, hoping that he would recall them to their duty, and at the same time appease the Turcopoles, to whom he was recommended by the communion of race and language, and being also familiar to the Alans from that time when he had shared military service with them under the auspices of the common leader Noga; furthermore, he had served as an ambassador to Tuctain: whence it was believed that he would be a suitable author for persuading them to amend the contumacy they had begun to show, and to return to a better way of life, resuming the obedience toward their princes which befits subjects. The elder Emperor himself desired to conscript an army at once and make an attack upon the enemies, but he was held back by many necessary matters pulling him in different directions. He immediately expedited that which pressed most urgently, on account of the flight of the farmers from the fields, which was ruinous at such a time. He prepared forces to be sent by land, which would bring the required security to the farmers while they reaped the crops and performed the other works customary in summer for the procurement of provisions. In the meantime, he granted the Amogavari, as it were, a truce, but he threatened that it would be short, affirming that as soon as he had gathered his forces, he would march against them in hostility. After this, he attempted to entice the Genoese who had returned from the Lazi with thirteen ships into an alliance of arms with him. But his plan was so far from succeeding as he desired, that he C saw two of the best ships of all immediately being sent out by them to
A Italy to take the Mpyrigerium back to their own lands. The remaining Genoese in the other ships were also preparing to depart, citing the requirements of their trade. With difficulty, and only after many entreaties, it was at last obtained—for the most part as a favor—that two ships should be detached from the rest of the fleet to serve the Emperor, for a contracted price of six thousand coins. This was done under terms clearly stipulated and confirmed by an inviolable oath: that they would serve the Emperor for no longer than two months; however, within this two-month period, they were to be attached to the imperial fleet, to sail and to fight without any reservation against the Catalans and Amogabari as enemies of the Emperor and of their own illustrious senate. The crews of the other nine ships that remained promised that they would stand by for a few days without pay, providing an appearance of fighting under the auspices of the Augustus to strike terror into the enemy, and furthermore, that if any opportunity for a successful operation should offer itself in the meantime, they would contribute their energy to aid the Romans, with their full liberty to depart whenever they might wish, whether the objective had been achieved or not. Having concluded these arrangements, the Emperor turned his mind to considering how he might overcome the enemy from that point on.
33. Concerning the Amogabari imprisoned at Adrianople.
[P. 585] Even the Catalans who were imprisoned at Adrianople—about sixty in number, whom we have said were kept in prison there after the Caesar was killed and they had reached an agreement for their lives to be spared under oath—were not B ignorant of what had befallen the Emperor in his struggle against their own people, nor did they fail to use that intelligence to look after themselves. Indeed, when a report spread widely that our forces had been defeated decisively and that the members of their own race were even approaching to assist them, they broke their bonds. Since they could not easily escape, as the tower in which they had been installed was difficult to gain exit from, they made their way up to the open space at the top. From there, they used stones found on the spot to skirmish against our men, defending themselves against those who approached and trying to knock them down safely. But they accomplished nothing at all, as the citizens were surrounding them on every side. Consequently, while a few cowardly tried to flee and surrendered themselves, the rest fought even more fiercely until death, being wounded while casting missiles. Finally, the citizens gathered all kinds of fuel and set it on fire, intending to burn down both the tower and those inside it. A great blaze arose; those caught in the flames did not for a moment abate their high spirit. Instead, first stripping off their clothes, they cast them indignantly into the fire, as if aiming to strike the flame, and then, as the heat grew stronger little by little, they were consumed, leaping of their own accord into the balls of flame, having said farewell to one another with mutual glances and having fortified themselves with the sign of the cross made by their hands. Two amongst these youths, brothers by blood and
nature, and of like mind, having embraced one another firmly and gathered themselves for the final act, moved by pity and at the same time lifted up by a noble resolve, threw themselves down from the tower and perished instantly. There was a boy among the rest who, because he was lazy from miserable fear and was clearly waiting to be mastered, those others, sparing nothing, straightway seized the youth and threw him into the fire with great courage, thinking they were saving him rather than destroying him. And they did these things out of despair of surviving at all; for it did not happen that the struggle was an equal one for them against so great a city.
A They were aware, in these matters, that if they wished to hold the fortress while they were intercepting it, they could take it without a fight; but if they were to fully overcome those inside, they could not finish the whole affair without bloodshed. So they inquired into how the task should be undertaken. But since it seemed beneficial to depart in peace, they deliberated with the inhabitants of the island, and having embarked their own bodies onto their private ships, they saved themselves, leaving the fortress empty. And this was heralded as a great event, as if they had taken Gallipolis itself; yet this was the only degree to which the report corresponded to the truth. Meanwhile, nothing had changed regarding the report of the Augusta Irene, who had already been remaining in Thessaloniki for two years, managing the affairs of herself and her children, acting with a view toward marriage alliances.
B What was there, among those events touching upon this, to bring in an auxiliary force—some from Belgrade, subject to the Romans, and a great deal of other Triballian mercenaries? But the enemies were the same and were engaged in the same actions again. For a while, there was an armistice in the wars, as imperial triremes were sailing near the straits of Abydos to prevent the early crossing of the Persians.
34. Concerning Andreas Mouriskos and the events involving him.
Andreas Mouriskos, whom we said in the previous books had been appointed *vestiarios* by the emperor (for so is the one who provides expenses to those on the ships named), and who had formerly been a commander of the military, having attached himself to Tenedos with two ships, was vigorously besieging the fortress located there. And he was already considered certain to capture it, but the Genoese, happening upon them in their passing, entered into conversation with them, and the whole C matter was brought to a point where they easily persuaded them to depart willingly from a place they could not hold to the end, safe and sound with all their possessions. Therefore, they received them onto their own ships and left the empty fortress for the besiegers. This deed was celebrated with grandiloquent praises, so much so that those who, as usual, were loading truth upon fiction out of partiality, even added that Gallipolis had been conquered by the Genoese. But this was far from the truth, with the entire utility of the Genoese alliance being reduced, in the end, to the negotiated surrender of a single fortress on Tenedos. Nor did the rumor of the great equipment of the Augusta Irene bring any new support to the emperor's affairs; she had been lingering for two years now in Thessaloniki, intent on ordering the affairs of herself and her children, among which her no less important concern was the negotiating of splendid and useful marriage alliances for her house. This woman, while living there, was said to have formed a plan for gathering D forces to be sent to the emperor, partly Romans and partly auxiliaries from the imperial subjects at Belgrade, and partly other foreign troops from the Triballian people. But while these hopes were languishing, the enemies of the empire were continuing to do the same things as before, except that there was now a slight respite from the war, as the hostile license was repressed for a little while by the imperial triremes moved closer to the narrow straits of Abydos, for the purpose of prohibiting the crossing of the Persians from the East, which was being spoken of as being prepared there; it was rumored that not even the Amogavari themselves desired this, or thought it useful for them, fearing that if they were to use any of the Persians as loyal and obedient auxiliaries—whom they had hitherto used in the handling and carrying of the wretched Romans—they saw that it would not be without danger to themselves if they were surrounded by a greater number of an alien race, should they dare to attempt anything through defiance.
A Indeed, they were able to transport across and carry over the others whom they had already crossed over, as they pleased, keeping them enslaved to their own multitude, even though many remained on the opposite shore, as they were prevented by those who were being kept in check from dragging our people anywhere, should they perchance try to weigh anchor or even to draw water. For it happened that the entire coastline was continuously held by the Persians, except for that part which was around Atramytium and Phocaea; the latter was held by Manuel Zacharias, not so much by the strength of the places as by the reputation for the boldness of the Italians around him in war, of which he was kept guard. Therefore, seeing that the islands on both sides were neglected, though lying in very defensible positions for those who would dare to join battle (for the danger to their own captives was not escapable for them), they sent [legates] to the emperor, asking that he either provide the necessary security for the islands against pillaging, or announce to them the [means] for their defense, by also remitting the revenues from there, which they would use to arm ships against the counter-attacks of those who were assaulting them; for the Emperor Michael had, for a time, given the place to them as suitable for the working of alum B and they found the emperor receptive to what was requested, although the execution of these decrees still hung in the balance due to delays.
35. Of the nuptials with Smiltzaena
At this same time, she who had formerly been the wife of Smiltza, when she had already arrived in the city, as mentioned above, reached an agreement through marriage to those matters which she had come to discuss with the emperor, he himself consenting. When Osphentisthlabus learned of this — for he himself had also insistently but in vain sought affinity with the August house from the emperor, and was already despairing of being able to hold Eltemeres faithful to his side, since he knew that he was leaning toward the emperor, being the son-in-law of Smiltzaena — he sent for two of the finest fortresses, Hyampolis and Lardaia, which he had previously seized from the Romans and then given as a pledge of gratitude to Eltemeres, his uncle, and through an agreement C he took them back again and secured them with garrisons that were introduced, being expectant that he would attempt similar deeds with the others. For the failure to obtain the marriage alliance from the emperor spurred on his impulses, even if later, at their own times, this too happened, and he was keeping the regions for himself as if they had long been those of the Bulgarians. It seemed that the divine will was also exacting from the Romans, in the West, penalties for hidden crimes which even they themselves could not manifest by examining the recesses of their conscience, as to when or how they had been privy to them, however much the pontiff of the city, citing the pretext of collecting tributes, meanly and cruelly practiced extortions upon his own people by the handlers and contractors of the Augustan [house] from that very same nation.
A For those great men who were near the emperor were keeping watch for the faults of which they were openly unable to be ignorant, even if the priest of the city accused the contractors of these exactions—though not even he was fully aware, as all others were, especially in matters of the Church. For there was nothing left over from those former depredations which he himself did not seize, even to the very revenues formerly assigned to those upholding ecclesiastical dignities, so that those who bore the titles of sacred offices were reduced to such a state of impasse that they became utterly obsolete and filthy in a shameful squalor. And indeed, for such rapines he used the pretense of caring for the feeding of beggars, not noticing that in this way he was multiplying the number of beggars and forcing into their ranks men worthy of great reverence for the splendor of their birth and endowments, whom he left destitute of every means of sustaining life, not even granting the wretched this consolation: that he might appear to sympathize with the hardships he plainly saw. For he persevered in turning a raw and pitiless face and gaze—befitting the harshness of his other rigid dispositions—toward those very people whom he had stripped of their splendid fortune and compelled to seek their bread by begging (O insult, utterly intolerable to those born and educated as freemen!) throughout the streets and squares of the city. B For his bitter disposition, combined with the memory of past conflicts, made the man a common Fury, even the emperor being completely unable to alter his character, if indeed he ever felt any pity. For as often as reports were made to him every day, nothing at all was accomplished. And as is likely, it was perceived that he was willing to do these things before, even though he was restrained by many great men approaching the emperor[...]. C But now, with some men dead, others willingly out of the way, and others alienated from the emperor by spite, he easily carried out his bitter, and as it were desired, will, as no one dared to prick the one in power. And just as if God were idle—according to the popular proverb—certain things are done, so too, God being idle, and excuses being made in the name of God—which not even he, being human, employed—these things came to pass. And that this permission was brought about through sin is manifest. Nevertheless, let him who is called to punish fear the summons, since no good angels are accustomed to punish those who sin against God. D But as it seems, it was the concern of God that those inside 389 should also generally suffer from these harsh trials, even if they did not experience them in the same way as those who were being punished, nor were they subject to the same penalties; for in the former case, those attacking were enemies, while here they were their own people, and there the danger was confined to the body, whereas here it passed even to the soul. But let these things be directed wherever it is pleasing to God, and would that it were for the better; for our part, we must again take up the following matters.
7. Peaceful handling of the Amogabari by the Emperor.
A It came to pass that the twenty-third year of the senior emperor’s reign and the twelfth of the junior emperor were being completed. At that time, the regions of the East were suffering to such an extent from the incursions of the Persians that they were neglected as if they were beyond all hope of remedy or recovery, and the reports coming from there were rejected by those in charge of affairs as if they had nothing to do with them, if there were anywhere others who had the capacity to provide a remedy for the known evils.
In the Western region, on the one hand, Osphentisthlabus was raiding and pillaging all the lands subject to Eltemere, pretending nothing other than to accuse it of inclining toward the emperor, sparing not even the Roman borders. On the other hand, the Amogabari, emboldened by their recent success in battle, left nothing secure or untouched by their savage violence in the region that stretches as far as the river commonly called the Maritza. Even the border of Thrace, being fortified by no garrison to hold back their force, presented the whole province to their insults if they should decide to burst through, compelling its inhabitants, who were aware of their own peril, to anticipate certain death by a timely flight. As this was done energetically by all, everything throughout Thrace was desolate and empty of inhabitants, save for those who, being accustomed to taking risks through brigandage, found it a familiar and acceptable mode of life to live by plunder and crime.
Meanwhile, the Emperor Michael withdrew into Didymoteichon, the fortress he had entered, not indeed of his own will, but because he was entirely unable to prevail upon the soldiers, who were held back by their own hesitation, to follow him. He was tending to the wounds received from the war. B The emperor, having from this point despaired of the battle against the Catalans—men who were completely reckless and who set their own lives at stake as if they were mere game-pieces—decided to pursue a different course in dealing with them. This was especially because it was reported that the Persians, if they could find the opportunity, were eager to cross over again. These were the very ones, if the emperor so willed, who were destabilizing his rule in the manner already described; for the Amogabari, having become suspicious of them, were preventing them from arriving with them at Gallipoli. For their part, the Catalans were coming to their senses and were inclining toward peace with the emperor, if only someone would provide them with assurances. C When Augustus the senior learned of this, he despaired of the possibility of his men conducting affairs with any confidence of a successful outcome against the Catalans, people who are the more difficult to kill the more readily they offer themselves to death. For just as they cast their lives into the hazard of battle no less readily than one might cast dice in a game, and are as abundant in audacity for attempting any task, so there is nothing they do not accomplish with that same intrepidity. He therefore decided to find another method, apart from the dangers of open warfare, to turn aside their violence from himself and his people.
Convenient causes existed for hoping that they would not be unwilling to entertain the mention of a settlement. First, the opportunity offered itself to remove the Persian auxiliaries from them, since they were tired of their military service under the Catalans, and it was not doubted that, if there were a supply of ships to transport them to Asia, they would immediately return to their own people. It was possible, if the emperor wished, to provide them with the imperial ships then lingering in that sea, as has just been mentioned. Moreover, it was a matter of common knowledge and report that a deep and grave dissent had arisen between the Catalans and the Persians intermingled with them, to such a degree that it was sufficiently clear the former had begun to exclude the latter from entry into the city of Gallipoli, which until then had been their common and open territory. D Furthermore, it was known that the Catalans themselves were fighting among themselves with conflicting opinions about their own ultimate standing, and that not a few of them were leaning toward the plan of entering into peace with the Augustus, if an opportunity were offered for it to be negotiated securely.
In addition to this, precisely at this juncture of affairs, it happened that a certain man was captured near Tenedos, Jacob by name, who a short time before had been a secretary to Caesar Rontzerius, and after his death had been sent by the Catalans to Sicily to summon reinforcements from there; he was carrying letters from that place, and with them he was brought to the emperor. Having seen these and heard the captive, the emperor was greatly strengthened in this persuasion, that the Catalans were casting down their spirits...
A and did not trust their own forces sufficiently to believe they could sustain a war against the Romans unless they were strengthened by external auxiliaries. Since, after their negotiator sent from Sicily was intercepted, it was unlikely that they would wait for others, it appeared they would not be averse to peace proposals. This opinion was also reinforced by the assertion of this same Jacob, who was intimately acquainted with their situation and claimed that the business had been entrusted to him alone; he said that because he had been captured before he could arrive with the replies and deliberate on the whole matter, this negotiation had been completely broken off and would progress no further. He added that he thought it would be easy now to induce the Catalans to discuss and search together for ways of concluding a convention useful to both sides, provided the emperor would not hesitate to show that he himself was not inclined toward plans for war, by sending to them men who were most trustworthy, whose promises, it could not be doubted in any way, would be confirmed thereafter by sure effects.
The emperor, having thoroughly taken this speech of Jacob's into his mind, not only agreed with him fully but set himself entirely upon the will to attempt a pacification with the Amogavars. He even began to think of using this very author of the plan as a mediator and minister to carry it out, with certain colleagues added to him for this purpose. Indeed, given his expertise in Catalan affairs, he seemed quite suitable for such a task, were it not for his lack of zeal and faith toward the concerns of the empire. Yet his kinship and intimate connection with the enemies compelled the emperor to fear lest, drawing everything uniquely to the favor of his own people, he might perhaps bring some grave damage to the Roman cause. But against this fear, the emperor easily fortified his mind, supposing that he could prevent any such disadvantage either through the intervention of other, most faithful colleagues, or through his own watchfulness in other matters. Having judged it, therefore, not in the least dangerous to count him also as part of the embassy to be sent to propose peace to the Catalans, provided he bound himself by oath to act rightly in this, he exacted and received an oath from him, and having thus preoccupied him with religion, he thereupon securely joined to him a certain Coron who was used as an interpreter of Latin letters. B To these two, three others were added in addition. All of them, being burdened with mandates by the emperor and urged again and again to conduct the entrusted business with the greatest possible art and industry, were ordered to betake themselves immediately to the journey and proceed straight and swiftly to the Catalans. They approached Callipolis first, as close as was safe; and having been admitted into the imperial camp situated there, they sent word to the Catalans that they had matters to propose on behalf of the emperor by whom they were sent, and that they were ready to come to them, provided that hostages were sent to ensure their own safety. The request seemed fair and obtainable. Therefore, the requested hostages were sent to Callipolis to be guarded in the Roman camp, in pledge of the faith that the Catalans would permit them to suffer nothing harsh, as long as those sent by the emperor remained in the power of the Catalans. Five horses were also sent corresponding to the number of the envoys, along with an equal number of soldiers, who had orders to ride behind the imperial envoys on the same horse. The reason for the unexpected requirement was alleged to be the security of the envoys, so that their guard, being attached to them, might protect them from the assaults of any people of his own kind—who, happening upon them and recognizing them as Romans by their dress, might not easily restrain their hands. But this was a pretext. For the truth, as those who looked deeper judged, was that the cause of this act was so that, through the overseers attached to them, the envoys might be prevented from curiously exploring the present state of Callipolis more than would seem safe for the Catalans, who held the sum of affairs in that one fortress at such a time.
2. Speech sent to the Catalans by the Emperor
CHaving been introduced D, they said these things: “Emperor Andronicus, our lord indeed, but your initiator, has commanded us to say these things to you. It is fitting for men who profess to fear the justice of God to be likewise—and for a supreme prince, most especially—to show themselves grateful to those who have deserved well.
And yet you have done the opposite, and in return for the many expenses we have incurred for your sake, you have returned to us the very assaults you turned against us. A What response could you make regarding your subsequent reputation? Would one call you allies? But you chose to support the enemy’s side. Would one call you enemies? Yet who would consent to be invited by anyone, for the sake of their own wickedness, with the promise of large rewards? But you were allies at first, and then became enemies. And what other terrible thing could one bring against you, if you were invited as allies, at such great cost to us, and then made a truce with the very enemies you were invited to fight, and along with them proceeded to plunder our land? What account can you give, Christians fighting Christians? You see the irreparable harms, and because you did not delay, you appear to have chosen to be seen as evil. For what evils have you not committed? Have you not enslaved provinces? Have you not slaughtered men? Have you not mercilessly destroyed infants and old men, some of whom you dispatched, others you compelled to endure every form of torture before putting them out of the way? What excuse for being the agents of such B great evils exists for you? Caesar perished. But it was not by our will—the eye that sees all knows—but by the hand of those who had been invited, for the sake of the large wages you pledged, to take up arms against those who acted as your enemies. How is it just or lawful, when divine and human laws exist, to hold in contempt what has been sworn, and in return for large sums of money which we spent on you, to return hostile assaults? By what suitable name will it be possible to call you henceforth? Could one call you allies? But you chose to prefer the bitterness of the name "hostile" over that term. Let us call you enemies, then? But this is hindered by the fact that no one would ever hire enemies at great cost for their own injury, and it is contrary to all reason to call those whom we summoned and to whom we paid large stipends "enemies." Perhaps someone might distinguish the times, saying you were allies at first, then changed your minds and became enemies. Yet nothing could be said of you that is more shameful, or a greater disgrace. For what could be urged against you, even by the most bitter detractors, more hateful than that you broke the faith you had pledged to friends, and while taking into your own hands the largesse of their poured-out wealth, you suddenly—your intention corrupted—made a pact with the enemies against whom you had been called to bring aid, and joined those same enemies in work and rage to devastate with equal fury the lands of the friends who had come to your aid and who had paid you ample stipends? Come, bring forward whatever you have in your defense, so that you might appear to defend, even in appearance, this crime of yours, whereby you inflict the most violent injuries upon Christians—unless you do not refuse to be judged immediately, without further delay of inquiry, as cruel and perfidious, which is what you have willingly chosen to be. For what evil has not been committed by you? Have you not laid waste entire provinces, carrying off boys and women into slavery and slaughtering the men? Did you not, in those places, most inhumanly transfix and tear to pieces little ones and helpless old men—a miserable crowd—and then, so that they would reveal their treasures, did you not slay them after tormenting them with the cruellest tortures? And what drove you to perform such execrable deeds? Caesar perished; but it was not by our will (He knows, the eye of God that sees all things), but by the hand of those who—
were fed on hatred against him from certain old grievances; and these men alone, by their own counsel and free will, undertook the deed. For those who were not fully aware of the old injuries, it is easy to blame them; but for us who were completely ignorant, to attribute to us the desire for vengeance is unjust. And yet, the one who lived with him was our child, so that even if he had committed some fault, it would surely have seemed pardonable. B And to avenge such faults in this way is not at all consistent with Roman custom. And this would perhaps be true if the wrongdoing were obvious; but if one has nothing to charge—which we ourselves would certainly wish to know—how could we have chosen what was not going to be to our advantage? Besides, those who have no other recourse, if some unwanted event occurs, may be driven to act in ways contrary to their own customs. For when those for whom the possibilities of vengeance are very narrow, they must attempt that which is in no way customary, for despair drives them to such moments; and the weakness and helplessness of those who act [are what you cite]. C But if censure is rightly attached to those for whom the deed was done, how is it not an unwanted thing for those who possess the power to pursue matters as they wish to cast such shameful disgrace upon themselves? It is more necessary to be forgiving toward those who have performed such deeds than to wish to become avengers of those who, were they not to choose this, would seem like wicked men and worse than the treaty-breakers, who are to be punished in any case. But if, however, you must look at what has passed, consider how many of you, when you should have been growing rich from our enemies, have instead enriched yourselves at our expense. D I pass over how many of the treaties and covenants with the Romans you have betrayed; but look at how many of our people you have enjoyed taking while we were offering them or yielding them. For the guise of allies, and the continued pretense of laboring on our behalf, caused those who were receiving to act as if they were the ones giving—even when someone was forced to give against their will. Remember these things, and out of respect for the original agreements to which you bound yourselves, Caesar...
A should, I think, properly lay aside that pretext from this point on; but in his mind, and even if he were unwilling, let him consider where it is on earth that you are stationed as you do these things, and whether it will be safe for you in the coming year. For us, indeed, the suspicion of treaty-breaking has, up to this point, inclined toward a milder course of battle, as being least becoming to us; for the things that have been agreed upon persuade us to be inactive, even while suffering the most terrible things, and for those who are suffering, there is a refuge in the respect for what has been sworn, even if one might complain. But as for you, you will soon know, if you do not stop, where your daring will lead you. Nevertheless, it is necessary to hold back and declare: for in this way, we might justify our reputation for mercy to those who judge what is right, and there will remain the justice, in turn, of exacting penalties—you giving them even against your will—with divine assistance, since you do not hesitate to begin the battle. For one must cast aside all suspicion of treaty-breaking. For he who, despite such great outrages, is judged at the beginning to be seeking peaceful outcomes, might justly claim the reputation for justice. For this dishonorable epithet will fall upon those who attack first, not upon those who defend themselves—if indeed someone, while being wronged, were to call for defense against the violated conditions. It is perhaps necessary, therefore, and not inappropriate at the present time, to choose one of two things: either to take everything and return to your own habits, or to keep everything and approach us, as if you were to be paid again, to serve the authority of the Romans. For in this way, it might happen that both outcomes would be secured, and all things possessed, and it would least appear that the treaties had been neglected to an extreme degree. And wherever you might eventually go, you would not have completely cast aside the reputation of maintaining a safe alliance; for what sense does it make to have defenders standing by, and then to be set up by enemies, having cast forward whatever accusation might happen to come up? B If you also proffer the idea of pay, as I have heard, it is shameful even to speak of it. Whose zeal...
...having been enriched by plunder and spoils thus far. I pass over those things which you have usurped against justice and divine law, without any regard for the alliance entered into with the Romans: I would only have you recall now those things which you accepted while we were looking the other way or permitting it. For long has a respect for our treaty and the name of friendship compelled us to pretend with you, while your acts of rapine were being reported, and our own judgment and grief concerning these things was held in check, and we conducted ourselves as if we believed you were acquiring these things rightfully, while you still bore the name of allies and appeared to serve our empire, taking things which they [the Romans] did not provide willingly, but which were extorted by force or threats from the most unwilling and miserable Romans. I ask that only those things be counted by you, which over that long period of our silence—which patronized your license—you heaped up for your own profit through the plundering of property and the captivity of men. From these, you will discover that you have grown to such opulence that you must acknowledge the pact struck with us was most profitable for you, and you must admire the constancy of our faith in observing it so perseveringly amid so many and such vehement causes for breaking it. Whence it will be manifest that one cause cannot be alleged as to why you later openly defected from us, other than that you feared nothing of your ancient agreements with us, and it pleased you to leap forward—wantonly—into an open and most iniquitous contempt of them. Cease, therefore, to allege the death of Caesar. This is a mere and hollow pretext. Consider instead, and apply your care to this, where in the world you are sitting, not doubting to do such things, and thinking that you will carry such unspeakable crimes to the end with impunity. Nor does your confidence in this matter rest upon an experience of success, as you have had little progress since you began to assail us. For we have not yet wanted to use our full strength against you, restrained as we have been by a certain lingering reverence for a friendship once sworn to you. For we consider the crime of treaty-breaking perfidy to be so grave and shameful that, for the sake of avoiding it, we have not refused to agree even to the greatest losses C for the sake of a slight or empty show. Therefore, we have acted more remissly in our battle against you thus far, considering less what you deserved than what was becoming to us. Henceforth, I declare to you clearly: no respect for a treaty that you have already manifestly ruptured will any longer delay us; and thus, you shall soon feel how great a ruin your audacity—unless you check its recklessly rushing momentum—will precipitate upon your affairs and your own heads. We have chosen to make this final trial, so that we might avert your destruction, if it were possible to recall you to a sounder state. For let this be a guarantee that you are not yet completely shut off from a return to our grace, if you are willing to deserve it by even late repentance. In this, you may recognize the remnants of my old will, which is struggling to break away from you, and yet is still inclined toward you. By so much the more blameworthy will your stubbornness be judged by those who discern, if now also you spurn the condition of pardon so benign, offered by our majesty after being so gravely injured; and your calamity will appear less worthy of pity when, presently, we shall—with God’s help—have exacted the penalties you have earned through a war that is now without any doubt most just, after you were the first not to fear rushing to attack us, without having taken any care—not even in appearance, as you should have—to veil your nefariously transgressed sworn agreements. And so that no tergiversation may allow you to deflect this disgrace from yourselves, this final argument shall lead to its inescapable proof, to be drawn from the fact that you have refused the pardon currently offered by me, if you were willing to return to your senses. For who would not hold him manifestly guilty of the war so unjustly brought from the beginning, who can neither allege any suitable cause for having undertaken it, and who, when invited to a restoration of grace by those he voluntarily attacks, proceeds to spurn it with pride? Therefore, no one will be found so iniquitous that he could argue against our arms, with which, after long patience, we will finally avenge the perfidy of your treaty-breaking rebellion.
A For the term "fœdifragi" (treaty-breakers), that hateful and odious word, attaches not to those who defend themselves against the first to use force for the sake of necessary defense or legitimate retaliation, but to those who, by unjustly violating agreements, have provoked such a war. Therefore, I offer you the option of two conditions, and I judge it absolutely necessary for you to choose one of them if you wish to act prudently for the sake of your affairs in their present state: namely, that either you return to your homes with all the spoils you have gathered, or that you retain these spoils as your own, but approach us again under a new agreement and pledge that you will henceforth serve under our command for the pay stipulated in the contract. For in either way, a secure and—through our concession—just possession of the wealth you have acquired by injury will fall to you; and, furthermore, you will appear to have in some way cleansed yourselves of the ignominious disgrace of having neglected the treaties. But if you do not do this, wherever you may go, the infamy of having broken your treaties will incite the hatred of men against you. But if, beyond these things, which we are prepared to allow you to keep even though obtained by plunder, you seek to demand from our treasury the sums of money due for wages in arrears—which I hear you wish to do—that is truly such a shameful thing for you that, if you have any concern for your honor, you should diligently abstain even from mentioning such a thing. For of what rightly performed deeds, of what labors, of what service rendered to the Roman commonwealth do you demand the wages? Do you think it is fair that for those hostile raids, which you yourselves confess to have used against the Romans, rewards should now be paid to you as allies? How could that not transcend the hyperbole of an ungrateful and wicked heart? For if you think you have ever earned anything by fighting for the Romans, you are yourselves conscious that you have received pay even greater than is just; so that anyone who has correctly calculated will clearly perceive that we owe you nothing but the punishment for crimes perpetrated against us. It would, therefore, be best, having carefully considered all these things, to decide prudently what counsel you should adopt henceforth, and to what path of action you should turn your deliberation from this, as it were, turning point. This is the final time for you to decide on these matters. For if you do not accept what we have proposed, know that you will have no opportunity to converse with us in the future. B These things, as they had been written by the Emperor, the envoys recited to the Catalans. Having heard them, they made no peaceful reply, but uttered words full of Italian pride and arrogance. Through these, after having ranted angrily and threateningly enough, they added this at the end as the final and irrevocable declaration of their will: "If the Emperor wishes us to depart from his lands appeased and benevolent, let him pay back the wages due for the time during which we served him by fighting; let him release from custody and restore to us as many of our men as are detained by him and his people in the city or anywhere else; let him restore to us our ships that have been captured by the Genoese, or obtained or redeemed from those who took them; let him buy our horses, which we shall leave behind when we sail, for a fair and quoted price; and for the booty and spoils which we hold in our hands, and furthermore for the ransom of the captives whom we guard, let him pay back a sum of money assessed at a fair valuation. When he has done these things, we will cease to pursue you with war and will depart at once. But if he is unwilling to do so, let him know that we would bear a great part of the shame and disgrace if, given the choice between living lazily and precariously or dying by fighting bravely, we hesitated even a little in preferring virtue to mere survival." Having said these things, and having dismissed the embassy immediately, they wrapped themselves in their own wickedness, having no concern to demonstrate openly that those things they had done wrongly were pleasing to them, and abounded in a nefarious will to do even worse things.
3. How the Persians were prevented from crossing over to the East.
C And it so happened that something occurred during their affairs—a matter best suited to their reasons, which I shall now relate. For when D
the Persians A were cheated out of an equal share in the division of the spoils, and although they had agreed upon a pact that the loot acquired was to be shared equally between themselves and the Latins—so that for every two of equal value, one should go to them—the Italians, caviling that as horsemen more was owed to them in the partition than to the rest, who were foot soldiers, they took just as much as they pleased, allotting to their Persian allies—as if they were nothing more than common infantry—only a small portion that seemed sufficient to their own profit-seeking judgment. Seeing themselves thus unjustly and contemptuously cheated, the Persians complained mightily of this injury and of other things besides, but to no avail, for the Catalans, self-assured and arrogant, remained deaf to all their pleadings and disregarded whatever the aggrieved parties put forward. Hence, the counsel arose among some of the Persians to return back across the sea to the place from whence they had come. Therefore, when a certain Roman ship-captain happened to pass by, they secretly negotiated with him, under a set price and agreed conditions to which both sides pledged by oath, that he should safely and in good faith transport them across the strait. But while they were thus crossing, in mid-course, Andreas Muriscus attacked and boarded the ship, sparing the Romans he found therein, but putting the Persians to the sword, as he had bound himself to no religious oath regarding them. When this was announced to the remaining Persians at the camp of the Catalans, who were contemplating similar plans to return, it turned them far away from such ideas, compelling them—in order to patiently endure whatever condition of foreign service they were inextricably bound to—to join once again with the Italians in their military operations, incursions, and raiding of the Thracian regions. Whereupon Muriscus, having been recalled from his tedious and publicly beneficial station of guarding the strait with his triremes, returned to the Emperor, where he was benevolently received and bore away the rank of admiral for his good service.
But truly, the Italians and Persians, seeing the triremes—the proximity of which had been a terror to them—had withdrawn, and perceiving that no danger from the fortress of Gallipolis threatened them any longer, left but a few of their own men behind to guard it, and with a massive onset they plundered everything in their path. They killed the men, carried off the adult women and children into miserable slavery, and collected immense heaps of money, to such an extent that they disregarded animals and other easily salable goods that fell into their hands, having enough in their possession already. And one could see piles of grain in the fields, the mature ears of corn left to be ravaged by the weather, and others left rotting and neglected, for lack of reapers.
4. The Apostasy of the Alans and the Turcopoles
Furthermore, neither the Alans nor the Turcopoles—those who had recently been converted to the Christian religion and who, not long before these events, had arrived from the northern regions for the Emperor’s service—kept faith or persevered in the observance of the initial treaty. Rather, both nations together openly defected from our side, and having seized the most fortified places, they spared nothing in their forays, laying everything to waste. The Turcopoles, for their part, fortified other settlements for themselves, from which, as from a base of operations, they sallied forth and inflicted terrible evils upon the Romans. And for the Alans, Cutzimpaxis, as B they stayed their ships there, having secured the trust of the fortress of Gallipolis and leaving but a few there for guard duty, with all their might they plundered whatever they encountered, killing the men, and leading off the women of age and children into slavery without pity, collecting immense sums of money, while their animals and cheap goods were ignored. [P 401] And one could see piles of grain with their mature ears of corn being shaken by the winds, while others were seen lying about, neglected. C
4. The Apostasy of the Alans and the Turcopoles.
But neither among the Alans, on the other hand, nor among the Turcopoles—who had recently been converted to the Christian religion and who, not long before these times, had come from the northern tracts for the Emperor’s military service—did the faith and the perseverance in the observance of the initiated treaty consist. Rather, each of the two nations defected openly from our side, and having seized places of the greatest strength, they vanished nothing that they did not ravage. And the Turcopoles, for their part, were fortifying their settlements elsewhere, from which, sallying forth as from an offensive base, they were committing terrible deeds against the Romans. And for the Alans, Cutzimpaxis, as it was said before, supervening, gave them in a short time an occasion to conceive such thoughts, though it was not for the sake of currying the interests of the Romans—for which he was being sent—that he had joined them. For they began immediately, upon hearing this, [for the Alans more spiritedly than before, the parties...]
A for he, too, was beguiling the Emperor’s hopes, claiming that he was not doing these things to the detriment of the Romans, as he was heard to say when defending himself to certain of the Emperor’s men. From another quarter, in the East, the Attaliote was also proclaimed a rebel, and letters that arrived made the defection clear. These things did not greatly trouble the Emperor, as it seemed, but he kept his attention unceasingly on [the events] in the West. He was especially troubled because the army of Michael, who was Emperor, had been scattered, and having no means of action there, he was sending to his father and Emperor, urging him, if it were possible for him, to campaign there himself and to encamp near Rhaedestus and further ahead. There was an impulse toward this, but he was considering where the forces for him would be assembled (for it was said that it was not possible for them to be provided from the public treasury due to the lack of funds) or whether a voluntary assembly was to be expected from the state. Hence, most were assembling, and money was being collected. But the amount gathered was not sufficient for such needs, and the whole matter was neglected. B C D
C For the nature of the desire for knowledge—as the love of sensations also testifies—is to know what concerns oneself, especially when one is a sovereign; for there is in this, on the one hand, a lack of hearing from anyone the things that seem beneficial while flatterers lie in wait—lest, if they should be contrary to his opinion, he be offended—and, on the other hand, the possession of power and strength to smooth out everything according to his will, with no one daring to oppose him due to the habitual submission of not wishing to offend the sovereign; how, then, was he not prepared to learn and to desire to know the truth when someone dared to undertake such things? But these he kept under surveillance, while the doer remained untraced. A
In the midst of this, a scurrilous pamphlet full of mockery was cast down. For the one who dared to cast it had no other expectation that it would reach the hands of the emperor than by someone’s stealthily placing it upon the very throne where the emperor was accustomed to sit, deep within the palace; the one who dared to place it having taken great care to remain unobserved, with the two-headed eagle ornament having been placed as a cover. As the prefect of the imperial bedchamber, Chatzikes, entered as was his frequent custom to arrange the matters of the throne, and as he was characteristically meticulous, he happened upon the pamphlet; thinking it had been placed there by the emperor himself—as it contained certain secret matters—and having asked no questions and not even having read it, he handed it over to the emperor just as he had received it. And indeed, he seemed for the moment to have done something guileless, acting as if he were performing some service worth the emperor’s attention, if the sovereign had not known that it had been placed there by someone else. B For a time, the emperor took it and, having looked through the beginning, perceived the whole of the writing, just as one might judge the entire fabric from a hem. And from that point on, caught between the desire to know and the inability to do so, he acted out of frustration and was in a state of helplessness. For if all men by nature desire to know—as the delight they take in the use of their senses testifies—it is no wonder that the emperor was then stung by such an intense curiosity to know the matter that concerned him so intimately, and to know the man who was the first to speak to him of such things. C
6. Concerning Madytos, and how it was captured by the Amogavars.
The Amogavars, as we have often said before, were overrunning everything and causing terrible suffering to the Romans; they laid siege to a fortress situated near the river Sego, called Madytos in the local tongue. D As it was well-fortified, as one might expect, it was not possible for them to take it. They made assaults every day and used siege engines, but everything proved in vain. When it became impossible for the Italians to take it [by force], they decided to besiege the fortress with famine. So, as time was wasted and hunger began to set in powerfully inside, so much so that even those who had abandoned...
A the inhabitants felt it, the matter finally came to pass. Being seized by helplessness, they agreed to terms: that no one for the time being should be killed, and that they would be dealt with as was pleasing to the others; thus, they finally surrendered the fortress. Those who entered then drove everyone out, scattering them in different directions. Using this place as a base of operations, they sallied forth everywhere in Thrace, committing terrible atrocities.
As for Mpyrigerius, as we have said before, he was captured by the Genoese and taken in chains to Trebizond; later, he was brought back with them, and for two months, he remained in the strait of Kallipolis while the two Genoese triremes remained on the emperor's payroll. When the two-month period had expired, they could not be detained from leaving, and they directed their course toward Genoa, taking Mpyrigerius with them against his will, even though the Catalans had previously sent embassies to the Genoese captains regarding this matter, which achieved nothing.
8. Regarding the Patriarch of Alexandria.
The emperor, among the other matters he had to deal with, was very anxious, as far as he was able, to remedy these, and he considered the treatment of the acting patriarch Athanasius to be of great importance. For this reason, he used every means available to reconcile the Patriarch of Alexandria, Athanasius, to the actions taken concerning Patriarch Athanasius. But he not only failed to agree with what had been done, he openly separated himself. Since there was nothing else he could do B, as he was directing his own flock and was considered to have great understanding and shrewdness, he became eager to depart by ship to the affairs of his own Church. Having made his preparations, and since it was not possible for him to sail directly to Alexandria at that time, he set off for Crete on a Venetian trireme; for he knew that a monastery belonging to the Sinai foundation (for he was a Sinaite from the beginning) was located there. However, while he was passing through, he arrived at Machri in Euboea, as the account goes. What happened to him while he was wandering will be told shortly.
The reigning Patriarch Athanasius, having taken control of the monasteries mentioned in the emperor's chrysobulls—the one in Anaplous of the Archangel and the one within the city of Christ the Benefactor—with the emperor's permission, affixed his own seal and established abbots of his own choosing over them. Later, he did the same for the monastery of the Hodegon; he himself arrived there, himself appointed an abbot by his own ordination, and himself renewed the commemoration C of his own name. At that time, the throne of Antioch happened to be vacant, so that from this point on, these monasteries, as well as those of the
A others, might be governed, and their capable and wealthy assets might be confiscated. But these matters stood thus.
9. The disasters that befell the Cubucleia
B Consequently, disasters befell a certain fortress in Mysia on Olympus, known as the Cubucleia. For because the inhabitants in the fortress, being keenly besieged by the forces of the Persian Atares, had come to the very brink of danger, and being without resource, could contemplate only one hope of aid: from Lopadium. For there the commander Macrenus was stationed with a few of his own men and the surviving Amogavari, whom the Caesar had previously sent to guard the place. Therefore, having sent a mission, they begged Macrenus to assist them. He sent sixty Amogavari, whom he believed to be faithful and well-disposed to the Romans. These men, having previously conspired in secret with the Persians and exchanged pledges of loyalty, promised that they would not only act for their own benefit, but they would also escort the inhabitants to Lampsacus so that, once across, they might be saved. But having entered the fortress, there was no form of cruelty that they did not inflict upon the inhabitants. Finally, they slaughtered the guards inside, expelled all the residents, and surrendered the fortress to the Persians for destruction. And as for them, having C thus reached an understanding, they joined the Persians on the road to Lampsacus, and having captured many Romans along the way, some here and some there, they led them off into slavery, and with other immense spoils of various kinds—having obtained a great reward for their wickedness—they crossed the Hellespont.
10. Concerning the fire that occurred in the city
Consequently, Byzantium was in danger of being constricted from both sides, from the East and from the West, such that the Romans were overwhelmed by despair and extreme perplexity. Moreover, the Patriarch Athanasius did not cease to accuse the people, incessantly bringing charges against them, as if the causes of the events unfolding D were coming from the offenses of the people. For this reason, frequent litanies were performed by him with monks, clergy, and the entire populace, and he frequently cast blame now on the monks, now on the priests, and now on the laymen; and he often imposed fines, threats, and penalties upon the wretched people who were already suffering in other ways. Added to these things was his love of severity and the belief that the ruin had come about through the negligence of former shepherds, and especially of the one who succeeded him, John, who was so mild and good-natured, and the expectation that the restoration of all things to the better was to be expected from his own urgent and sharp diligence. Which expectation, in fact, turned rather into the opposite, when
many of those who had run together on that night of the fire plundered the possessions of the Romans, for all judgment from the beginning was entrusted to the patriarch, with the emperor yielding—appearing to do so because of the purity of the proceeds, yet in reality attributing to the judge a revered and terrifying power over all, such that from morning until evening the priest would be besieged by a crowd, with ten thousand people running together to the monastery of the great *logariastes* (for he used to spend most of his time there). A And it happened all the more to the contrary, since many, having run together on that night, ruined the properties of the Romans—as far as stirring up such an unchecked man was concerned. So that even from the gate called the Gate of the Huntsmen as far as the monastery of the Forerunner, the fire encroached upon and ravaged that entire slope, and it cast into nothingness all that merchant wealth and other luxury of noble goods. This indeed had also happened previously during his patriarchate. For this reason, some were railing against him, saying that because of his litanies such a great conflagration had occurred. He, however, blamed their ease regarding prayers and their slack and careless way of life as being responsible for everything, far more than the divine wrath. Which of the two hit the mark of the truth, I cannot say. But from this, causes of lawsuits B and of the tribunals C were thus held before the patriarch, not only because of those things burned in the commercial documents, but also because, with the agreements and many papers having been consumed by fire at the houses of merchants, the accounts were necessarily confounded regarding debts and payments; but also because on that night many who came together under the guise of offering help to transport to safety things endangered by the fire had committed many thefts, carrying off others’ property to their own homes and thereafter keeping it as their own. From this, then, controversies came to be judged by Athanasius. For all the right and arbitration of forensic questions had from the beginning of the second patriarchate passed entirely to Athanasius, the Augustus yielding, for the reason as he wished it to appear, that he believed the jurisdiction was to be expected from someone whose well-known abstinence was pure and free from any suspicion of accepting bribes; but another, more deeply hidden cause for this attribution did not escape the perspicacious. For the emperor was striving by this method to ensure that the man, whom he openly hated and whom he was defending with all his might against the popular insults of envy and the increasing complaints of all, would be venerated and feared by the many, as one from whom they understood their own fortunes often hung, since he held supreme authority to judge. It appeared that Athanasius himself also cherished this hope, while with the most constant assiduity, from first light until the evening twilight, he endured, amidst the crowds shoving and bickering, to lower the pinnacle of his sacred dignity to the cognizance of worldly matters, with an immense multitude of the people always following his lawsuits, as he was constantly recurring to the monastery of the great *logariastes* (for it was there that he usually lived). D
11. Concerning Andreas Muriscus
Before Madytus, besieged by Pharenda Tzime, was captured, the admiral Andreas Muriscus, sent by the emperor to provision the fortress which was suffering from a lack of food, had betaken himself to its vicinity with two ships; and indeed, having stationed himself there, he barely managed to bring in the grain. From there he again headed towards Imbros, for he happened to have learned that two ships were coming from Sicily.
and he hastened to reach their path and preemptively seize them A before they could join the others. But they, having escaped notice and arrived at the strait near Kallipolis, were immediately apprehended by one of the ships of Mouriskos, which had been dispatched—having suspected that the enemy vessel was the one carrying Mouriskos. They, seeing the ship as easy prey, surrounded it; and after casting most of them into the sea, they put everyone to the sword, save for a few whom they spared, along with the admiral; for the admiral was an uncle of Mouriskos. Those who had barely managed to swim away, having arrived, reported to Mouriskos at Tenedos what had transpired; but they also revealed the cargo of the ships, namely that they were transporting oars to the Catalans. Upon learning this, and hearing that the Emperor had dispatched other ships to intercept him, Mouriskos was terribly distraught, and he began to contemplate, as he soon demonstrated, matters B that were not beneficial to those with him. For since he himself and the Romans sent by the Emperor were now restricted to only two ships—the rest having been captured—he departed from there with them and, having put in at Prokonnesos, he stripped the Romans, who were unarmed and naked, of all their equipment and ordered them to go before the Emperor and report to him what had occurred. Those men, having learned of these things, though only with difficulty and by force, upon the appearance of seven Genoese ships, took heart and sailed along with them; and they reported to the Emperor that Mouriskos himself, unless provided with sufficient ships to withstand the opposition, would not be eager for imperial service, as he valued his predatory wandering and the gains to be had from it above all else. But he did not enjoy the fruits of such schemes; for since, as I have said, he had announced his compliance to the Emperor, he was arming himself at his own expense with two ships, while waiting in the Hellespont for a favorable crossing into the open sea, where, in his usual manner, he might engage in his old trade of piracy. The adversaries, having seen those ships and recently having brought in ships from Sicily under the command of a certain Philip, immediately set out against them. With great speed they pursued and caught up with them near Artake, the harbor of the Cyzicenians, by Alonios, where a battle was joined; it lasted for a long time and remained in the balance, with Mouriskos resisting fiercely, until, his soldiers losing heart, Philip overcame him. A great slaughter took place, and while Mouriskos C himself was being held captive, the victor returned, having added both his ships to his own fleet. At that time, nothing saved the life of Mouriskos except the gratitude of Philip. For Philip remembered that he had once been captured at sea by the same Mouriskos, when the latter was engaged in piracy, and had been treated humanely by him and released shortly thereafter for a small ransom. Therefore, Philip wished to repay him an equal favor, and not long after he allowed him to be ransomed at Tenedos by his uncle, who happened to be there, for three thousand small gold coins. Through this success, the Amogavars, freed from the fear of Mouriskos, now sailed more boldly into Asia and, having attracted not a few Persians serving under the commander Atina to their side on certain conditions, they crossed the strait and transported them to their camp. These men, having joined the others who were already there with their countrymen, Per-
- A sarum numbering nearly two thousand. With them, many inhabitants of the Eastern regions, formerly Roman, now destitute and clutching at any opportunity to survive, were mixed in, swelling the Amogavar forces into a formidable multitude. Taking advantage of this, the leaders of that nation made paths through the otherwise impassable woods and craggy ridges of Mount Ganos by occupying them with strong garrisons of their own, making them inaccessible to our men. They sent various small bands in every direction, ravaging with cruel raids everything from Ganos as far as Tzurulum, slaughtering all they met, so that after their passage the plains appeared covered with thousands of corpses. They drove off herds and flocks, not even sparing the plow-oxen which they dragged from their work, even though these were useful for the public good and seasonally necessary. Because of this, great consternation naturally took hold of the wretched populace throughout all those regions; all who were able to escape death fled to the city, concealing themselves in hiding-places there, even while the terror lasted. Furthermore, the barbarians, having performed acts of unheard-of cruelty throughout that entire region, once they realized they were shut out from Heraclea—as they had planned to occupy it (for the Heracleotes, having despaired of their safety and being especially urged by their commanders, had pulled down as much of their city wall B as they were able, and after setting fire to the rest, had shut themselves within Selybria)—attacked Rhaedestus with full force. They occupied all the exterior areas surrounding the town in the first assault, slaughtering without mercy, so that a vast heap of the slain lay from the three churches right up to the gates of Rhaedestus itself; but they attempted to besiege the tower which was occupied by a numerous garrison. And since it was impossible for them in their fighting to capture it, they attempted to reduce it by terms of surrender. But they did not succeed in this either; for this reason, having abandoned hope, they retreated.
12. Concerning the Latin Romofortus.
C At that time, while Empress Irene was returning from Thessalonica and had completed about ten days of her journey, stopping at imperial stations, the Emperor, upon hearing the news, sent [an envoy] to tell her to turn back; for there was no possibility for her to return, as matters in the West had been thrown into confusion by the attack of the enemies. He himself, resisting such great evil as best he could (for the Turks had also already seized the fortress known as Examilium, where the Catalan Romofortus was also staying with them), sent off the commander of the army— D [P 410] [index: entries preserved] ...Marules, appointed as leader of the army by the great archon, and having assigned to him as many troops as he could spare for the time being, ordered him to encamp in fortified quarters near a place called Apro. Romofortus sent secret messages to him there, indicating that he was planning to defect to the Emperor with those of his own people who were particularly loyal to him: for he could promise nothing regarding the Turks, over whom he was in command only precariously. There were, however, about two hundred men whom he was confident he would bring over. But before this took place, he desired that, as a specimen and pledge of his faith and for an act primarily useful to the Roman cause, he would...
A obtain for his Augustus by his own virtue all the Persians who were fighting against the Romans on the Western continent, in order to destroy them utterly. But for this he required some thousands of coins, so that with that money he might induce the Turks, who were in some measure obedient to him, to fight against his Persian allies—a thing he felt confident would be easily persuaded by showing them the reward, although he saw them so averse to pledging their faith again to the Emperor that he despaired of them ever agreeing. Marules accepted the proposal credulously, and to incline the mind of Romofortus, already affected in this way, still more, he offered him no small gifts through those sent to negotiate further. When they inquired more distinctly concerning the sum he demanded, he replied that it should not be less than five thousand gold pieces, a price not great if compared with the huge utility of the service promised. Marules readily agreed to this; but he first inquired by what means he was confident he could accomplish a matter he promised which was extremely difficult. To this he said he would persuade half of the Persians to move elsewhere, by showing them the booty they would seize there, for which he knew they were most eager; once they had thus departed, he would fall unexpectedly upon the remainder with all his own followers, Latins and Turks together, and would undoubtedly slaughter them all; then he would move against those others in a similar way, and would subject the few who were not expecting it to an equal destruction. To these things he added besides that, if Marules wished, he would send even now, as an earnest of the promised work, some heads of Persians secretly killed B by him. To which, as he agreed, a little later there arrived from Romofortus recently severed heads of certain men, which they averred to be those of Persians; led by this appearance into fraud, our leader had been less cautious, and the loss of money was soon compounded by a greater loss from the snares of the treacherous and the desertion of the soldiers. But by chance a Roman woman found there one of the heads that had been brought, of her own husband who had recently been captured by the Catalans, and while mixing everything with her wailing, she proclaimed that it was certainly known to her; whence, suspicion having arisen that the remaining heads were also those of Romans and that Romofortus was acting in bad faith, the contract, with the traitor now exposed, was abruptly broken off.
13. The Capture of the Thyraioi and Ephesus.
The Emperor, hearing that the fortresses throughout the Eastern region were suffering from famine and siege, indeed attempted to alleviate the hunger by collecting the surplus of grain from all the greatest monasteries of the city, and entrusting it to suitable ministers, that they might convey it by sea wherever there was need. But he strove to restrain the incursion of the Turks by sending envoys to the new Khan of the Tocharians, Charmpantanis, C who were to request of him the same things he had already obtained from his predecessor, Cazane, namely that he might forbid the peoples and satraps subject to him from hostily infesting the lands of the Emperor of the Romans, his friend and ally. And a little before, the envoys had reported that they had found Charmpantanis ready to agree to their requests. And it was already being heard that he had raised an army for this purpose of not less than forty thousand soldiers trained in war; twenty thousand of these, it was reported, the son of Charmpantanis’s brother was leading, and had already arrived in the vicinity of Iconium. The envoys affirmed that the rest would follow soon. Furthermore, they said that his orders depended upon the nod of the Emperor: to execute whatever he had signified, to come where he summoned, and to move against those among the satraps hostile to his empire whom he had pointed out. While the Emperor was hearing these things, both the envoys and the gifts which [they brought] to meet such opportune auxiliaries... D
by the Emperor's pay, he was exhorted to depart towards Osphen-tisthlabus. For Cutzimpaxis, upon returning to the Emperor, had affirmed this; A which name, if one translates it into Greek, signifies "the first of the hieromagi." But the Alans, having learned that the Turcopoles were directing their route towards Callipolis, taking their wives and children along with them, fell upon them suddenly in the region [of Thrace], and seizing from the multitude a few women and children, sent them to the sovereign as if to do him a favor. Because the enemies were thus strengthened, to the point of driving out and raiding whatever remained of Thrace, those [inhabitants] who were encamped in the suburbs of the city fled towards the city, and having calculated that it was a secure station, transported their goods inside the city. But the Emperor, although he had already made many attempts in vain to restrain such importunate enemies, finally turned his mind to the counsel of sending envoys to Genoa, who in his name would request that an armed fleet be sent to him from there, to serve under his auspices for a wage that was ample and to be duly paid, which he entreated them to set sail so seasonably that it might arrive here at the beginning of spring.
14. Embassy of the Emperor to Genoa for the establishment of an alliance.
These tidings, and other terrible things besides them [reported] daily, caused the Emperor to be dreadfully restless. Nevertheless, he did not sink into despair, but he himself, as much as he was able, did not cease to struggle against them, and for the time being he wished to draw out [the sting of] the internal evil above all else. B This [evil] was the Amogavari and the Persians with them, to whom the aforementioned Turcopoles, being more than a thousand in number, had crossed over. For since they had revolted at the same time as the Alans, they had remained for some time of their own volition, obeying no one else, when [it was] the opinion of many—not unlikely, as things appeared—that they would have approached Osphen-tisthlabus had they not been anticipated by the Emperor's promise of the stipends that they themselves demanded. C
15. Concerning the Melech Isaac.
In the meantime, some of the Persians who had crossed over into the Western tract, Isaac Melech, being a satrap of that nation and having many under him, sent secretly to the Emperor, without any awareness on the part of the Catelans, requesting that he—desiring to be reconciled and to make a treaty
the Catalans for negotiations, as he was demanding that they obtain back the wives of the Turcopoles. A However, suspected of the intelligence regarding them from that point on, the Amogavars released them. Whence they determined even from that very spot to cross over against the Persian leader. But they themselves, leaving the Persians behind their backs, around the regions of Madytus, then on the one hand using the triremes that were with them, they were plundering whatever they happened upon after the manner of pirates by sea, while by land they were running in great numbers, and were expected to attack even the city; they even dared to send an embassy to the Emperor, and requested that he pay their wages, and also that their spoils be bought back, and thus with peace, on ships, he send them off to their own lands. But since these things were not turning out to be accomplished, and were futile, they hoped to be saved only by supplications to God, which the then-patriarch performed in great numbers. Meanwhile, the fortress of Cosmidium—fearing that they might occupy it if they arrived—was being razed in part, and he was awaiting foreign forces from Iberia (for there too the Emperor was sending and requesting an alliance) and from Genoa. For not even the interior was safely held by the Emperor once and for all, but a certain one of those notorious men from the West, who was thought to have attained to the dignity of the priesthood and had long ago gone over to the Emperor from there, such a man, Drimys by name— B C D [Lat: ...to draw back the wives of the Turcopoles. The plausible excuse found belief among the Amogavars. And so, the conspirators, having escaped a great danger, persuaded the Persian leader Melecus of a swift crossing into Asia, which he was able to arrange secretly and all the more easily because, as if now freed from the care of the Catalans, and having left the Persians behind him near the regions of Madytus, they were on the one hand harassing the sea, plundering whatever they found by boarding triremes, and on the other were overrunning the regions far and wide with land troops, becoming a terror even to the city itself. The city in its anxious expectation was troubled, when they even dared to provoke the Emperor with a new embassy, in which they demanded that the wages long owed them be paid in full, and that what they had seized in their hands be redeemed by money to be assessed at their own arbitration; and when these things were done, that ships be provided to them by the Emperor, and thus they be sent back to their own country with peace. If these things were not done, they threatened an internecine war to the end. Since these demands could in no way be admitted, it was clear to all that no hope of an agreement remained. Wherefore, the power and method of public safety depended only on the trust in divine aid and on prayers to be appeased, a duty toward which the patriarch was not sluggish, frequently repeating his traditional litanies in very large assemblies. Meanwhile, however, those skilled in the affairs of war, fearing that the fortress of Cosmidium could not be sufficiently defended, advised that it be abandoned and in part subverted. The Emperor, however, was awaiting auxiliary troops from Iberia and from the city of Genoa, whence he had requested them, all the more eagerly, in that he did not feel that even the interior of the city was safe for himself, because of the subverted machinations of certain traitors. To wit, a certain man by the name of Drimys, who long ago, for a reputation of little worth, had come from the Western tract to the Emperor...]
A His soul was troubled, and he sought to destroy the foreign fortress there, for they were suffering from hunger. He gave the impression, through much pretense, that he would do them harm if he did not bring the inhabitants there to terms within a few days. Since, however, Ephesus also came under treaty—on the condition that the people there should not suffer anything irremediable—those vessels consecrated to the temple of the disciple beloved of Christ and virgin were carried off, along with an incredible quantity of wealth. Most of the citizens were also removed to the fortress of the Thyraeans, for fear that they might suffer some harm from the Persarchae, should they rise up against the inhabitants there without reason, whenever opportunity might permit. Others, indeed, were put to the sword in open slaughter. Because they had separated themselves from the others, like the Alans, they persisted for some time according to their own judgment, obeying no one else; for the opinion held by many—which, as things appeared, was not unlikely—was that if they had not been anticipated by the Emperor with the promise of whatever stipends they demanded, they would have approached Osphentisthlabum. For this is what Cutzimpaxis had asserted upon returning to the Emperor; and if one interprets this name into Greek, it means "the first of the hieromagi." B But the Alans, having learned that the Turcopoles were heading toward Calliopolis, leading their wives and children with them, fell upon them suddenly, as if to do a favor for the Emperor; they captured a few women and children from the many, and sent them to the sovereign. C By this means the Catalans, having been strengthened, were soon reported to be making incursions and plundering whatever remained of Thrace. These reports, along with other terrible things arriving daily, weighed heavily upon the Emperor, causing him great distress. He did not, however, collapse to the end, but he himself, according to his strength, ceased not to grapple against them, and for the moment willed to pull out the internal evil more than the others. That was the Amogabares and the Persians with them, to whom the aforementioned Turcopoles, numbering over a thousand, had also defected. D Since they had revolted together with the Alans, they were arranging their affairs among themselves; the Emperor, attempting many other things to hold the enemy back, also sent an embassy to Genoa, requesting that a fleet of ships be sent from there for full wages, and that it should arrive by the spring.
15. Concerning Melik Isaac. In the meantime, one of the Persians who had crossed over, Isaac Melik, being a satrap and leading many men, sent secretly to the Emperor, without the knowledge of the Catalans, asking that he wished to receive his wives...
and the Turcopoles. A His plausible excuse found credit with the Amogabars, and they believed that by this means they might truly detach themselves from the Amogabars, and would perform whatever was in their power to benefit the Emperor’s affairs, whether by remaining there, if it were possible, or by crossing to the opposite shores with his own people. The Emperor, as evils were daily multiplying and his wisdom suggested that he could not plan anything else than to make the enemy’s position worse (for he was in no state to resist or fight at all), readily accepted the embassy, and sending back a certain Persian, so that the plot might not be discovered in advance, promised to give in marriage the daughter of that former Melik to the Persian commander, and to provide as dowry and other gifts as much as was sufficient. But while these things were being discussed day by day, with promises that the Turcopoles who had defected would also return and cooperate with him, if only their wives were sent to them—provided there was some assurance that there would be no deception in the agreed terms—as these things were being arranged and were already being sent, the drama was discovered by the Amogabars, and Romofert brought the Persian commander to judgment, along with all those who had been accomplices with him in the defection. Since they had absolutely no defense, they proposed in their defense that they seek only to trick the Emperor. However, because they were suspected from that point on, the Amogabars released their hostages. Whence, having crossed over from that very place, they knew the Persian commander. B But they, having left the Persians at their rear, somewhere about the parts of Madytus, partly using the triremes they had, plundered whatever they encountered in the manner of pirates by sea, while by land they ran in great numbers, and were expected to attack even the city; they even dared to send an embassy to the Emperor, and to demand that he pay their wages, and also purchase the plundered goods, and thus send them peacefully by ships to their own lands. But since these things could not be brought about, the matters there were fruitless, and they hoped to be saved only by constant petitions to God, which the ruling Patriarch frequently carried out with a great multitude. Meanwhile, the fortress of Cosmidium, for fear that they might arrive and seize it, had been partly demolished, and he was awaiting foreign forces from Iberia (for the Emperor was sending there also, asking for an alliance) and from Genoa. For the Emperor did not have even the interior parts safely, but from the west, one of those who had been spoken against, who had gained a reputation for holding priestly rank and had come over there to the Emperor some time ago—this person, called Drimys, C had been plotting and was ready to join in the rebellion. He offered himself to immediately abandon the side of the Amogabars, and to do what he realized would be expedient for the Emperor's interests and affairs, whether by remaining there where he was, if it were possible, or by crossing to the opposite continent with his own forces. The Emperor, having heard these things, considering that with evils growing daily no other hope of remedy appeared from elsewhere, since the exhausted resources of the Empire denied the power of opposing a proper army to the rebels, other than by procuring, if it could be done by any art, the weakening and diminution of the enemy’s power, gladly accepted the embassy, and having sent back to Melik a certain faithful Persian, so that the matter might be more safely hidden, promised that he would give him in marriage the daughter of that ancient Melik, and would add a generous dowry, nor in other matters, whenever there was a need or he himself should appeal to his munificence, would he refuse. And the negotiation proceeded successfully with messengers going back and forth daily; some of whom announced to Melik from the Amogabars that it seemed to them that the Turcopoles could be cut off from the society of the Catalans and, having given a suitable pledge of faith, be reconciled to the Romans, if their women, who it was said had been delivered to the Emperor after being captured from the Alans, were returned to them by him. To these things the Emperor easily assenting, and with the women already sent, the secret machination is discovered by the Amogabars. D Therefore Romofert cites the Persian commander to judgment, and all those whom the suspicion of defection with him concerned. As they were presenting a difficult case, with the outcome uncertain, since it did not occur to them what else they could plausibly allege, they agreed to assert that they did not truly wish to defect, but by falsely showing an intention of that matter, they were seeking to deceive the Emperor and thereby obtain from the Amogabars information that would be favorable to them. 414 144
A And since the time passed and he had not yet accomplished anything, he did not cease to stir up the multitude and to organize a revolt against the Emperor; he even sent messages and letters to the Amogabars themselves, craftily fanning the flames of war against the Emperor. From there, the man who had been promoted to the dignity of Domestic of the Schools (this was that Catalan, formerly Admiral), together with Mysakes from the West, whom the Emperor had held as a leader of the army, were weaving together many plots against the Romans, sending messages to the Amogabars and inciting them to battle as much as possible. Consequently, as they were caught in this, they received a fitting penalty, having been condemned by the court to imprisonment. And since it seemed that the schismatics were to some extent participating in his schemes, it happened that all of them, except for those unable to move, were required to depart—not only those of the Monastery of Motele, but also those in the city—and this during a time of winter and cold.
Regarding the Pope of Alexandria.
Nor should the incident concerning the Pope of Alexandria be passed over by us in silence. He happened, together with those around him, to be in Euboea, as I stated above, staying in a rented lodging among some of the common people. There, he fell into suspicion—especially among the Frerii, whose jealousy was aroused on account of his faith—and they, having arrived together with some of the local officials, inquired into his stay. B But as they could not learn anything more than that he was a traveler passing through, waiting for the opportune time to depart again from there, they proceeded to inquire about his beliefs, and how he stood toward their Church, and about what they use for sanctification—namely, unleavened bread—asking with great insistence. As he was not willing to declare himself on these matters, they, claiming it was just and fitting for a Patriarch to speak his mind, pressed him vigorously; otherwise, they said, he would be held liable for dark suspicions. Having done this for days, when they achieved nothing, they finally decided to do one of two things: either receive from him an admission concerning these matters, as they desired, or burn him and those with him as offenders against their Church. The day was therefore determined, and the people had gathered, and they questioned him urgently once again. But he said nothing different from what he had said before; for he was, he said, a traveler, and had no obligation to speak while no council was in session. And they were preparing to burn him. And indeed, they were proceeding to the execution of their plan, had not one of those present stood up and thwarted the design;
for he argued that this act would not be profitable for their people, but rather that there would be a necessity for some great man of those in Alexandria who possessed a significant lineage to seek out the murder of this man at the hands of those who arrived there from his own clan, those who might happen to be stationed in the regions of Egypt for the sake of trade. Having said these things, he seemed persuasive, and that worst of schemes was dissolved like a spider's web. They gave the patriarch a period of a few days to depart from the land, after which if he remained, they judged that he should accept the risk. And as he did not submit to anything, nor did he provide a guarantee, they fixed the time at ten days in all and released him. [P. 416] But as they were departing in such a way, once they were near Thebes, the ruler of that place—a man acclaimed as a great lord—becomes a bad encounter; for he seized them, handed them over to the most secure prisons, and wanted to be paid a price of two thousand gold coins. Later, after a period of time, the patriarch having proven useful to his captor who was ailing, freedom was given to the imprisoned. And having been received near Almyros and pitching camp somewhere there, they were kindly treated by the lords of that place.
17. Concerning the monk Hilarion.
A certain monk, Hilarion, being young and practicing asceticism in the monastery of the Peribleptos, since he had arrived at Elegmoi having been sent on account of the needs of the monastery (for the estate was fitting for their dependencies), he saw daily the excursions of the Persians from there, how everything there was being plundered, and how they were attacking even those in Elegmoi. Being a daring man and not unskilled in military experiences, he gathered the people there and, attacking the Persians who came upon them, he inflicted great harm upon them and did not cease from showing much concern for the place. But his own superior and later the patriarch, learning of this A gravely and by way of severe censures, sought to restrain the monk from the undertaking, as the order and the owed gravity and the life of virtue and solitude were the first duty of his profession. But since it had been decided to punish him even with the greatest penalties because of his boldness, he, knowing this, fled to the emperor. The latter received him and managed his affairs, yet he did not reconcile the patriarch to him. B C D
In the meantime, while time was being wasted and affairs there were being neglected, the Persians gathered together and, attacking suddenly, they committed a great slaughter, for those [defenders] had kept guard only in so much as could be crammed into the fortress. On learning of these things, the emperor, grieving at the calamity, could have indeed laid the blame upon those upon whom it was right to lay it; but nevertheless, the abundance of his piety, and the fact that it seemed the preservation of the monastic order was being sought, made him neglect [stronger measures], and he considered the means of remedy as he could, even if everything seemed to be in vain against what had already been done. With difficulty, when those who remained earnestly petitioned the emperor concerning Hilarion, the force of necessity prevailed, and, being sent to the patriarch, he was with difficulty released. And having returned, he secured the situation there as much as possible; for the whole surrounding area had been occupied by the Persians, and Prusa, having supplied those grim things to them under the name of a tax, received in return from the Persians not peace, but a shadow of peace.
18. Concerning the ships that arrived from Genoa.
But behold, with the arrival of spring, about nineteen long ships from Genoa arrived; yet they were not such as the emperor, in sending envoys to them, had requested. A For he had asked for the ships [to be sent] for the sake of war alone, but they, giving thought to what was asked and having calculated the high amount of expenses—and also suspecting that in the meantime the emperor might somehow pursue the enemies differently, either by fighting with armies or by money in peace, and thus their own [efforts] might appear to them as pointless, at the same time as the emperor was held to providing the costs from the moment they would be released from their own ports, which is customary for them—found these to be merchant [ships] and sent them forth equipped with a great crew, having ordered them that if the emperor should call for them as allies, they should place the alliance above any other business, agreeing with them to have the stipends of their customary [men] reduced there for the sake of the emperor. A certain Genoan, Spinulus, was acting in concert with them in these things, having already taken the emperor's son, the despot Theodore, as a son-in-law for his daughter. For the emperor and father, after having made Demetrius, who was next in time after John, a despot, was sending him to Lombardy; but the mother, judging Theodore to be greater, [had him] instead of the former—bringing this one from Thessalonica toward the portion of his brother B.
A to take the title of Marquis, since the daughter, or the envoys sent for this purpose (of whom that one had departed from among men, and they requested the Emperor, having sent thither, to allow one of his own children, and rather John, who was older than the others, on account of a certain just inheritance, as that one had died without issue, to defend their affairs). Which also happened later; they, having altered everything according to the Italians, thus loved him, bowing down in obedience. When the ships had therefore set sail, it was a priority for them, before the others, to learn the will of the Emperor, as they would act on whatever he should command. He, for his part, deemed the resolution with peace—if he could—for the time being, to be much more desirable than the waging of war, even if it were to require the expenditure of huge sums of money; for the one would take place without bloodshed, while the other would happen with many falling in war. Since they also, sending often, were demanding to receive what was owed—and these were, as they boasted, around three hundred thousand of the standard gold—for at that time they were being driven by the Genoese, and the same men were also arranging the matters of the embassy to the Emperor, as those were unable to appear before the Emperor. For these reasons therefore, the sovereign, having received the embassy, could not keep those in the ships, as they were looking to sail through to the Euxine because of their cargo. But having detained only four triremes for fixed wages, on the condition that they would preserve the straits of Abydos, both at once preventing the Persians crossing over and also checking pirates, if any should appear, he let the others go B, except for a fixed period of twenty days, so that if they should reach a settlement in the interval, they might do so; if not, then they might act as allies according to what had been decided. And they sailed away, but the Emperor chose envoys and sent them to the Amogavars, having also specified the gold he was willing to give, amounting to a hundred thousand, and if they were not persuaded, to add even more. The envoys, therefore, upon arriving, achieved nothing; for it happened that they had campaigned from Callipolis with a great multitude days before.
19. Expedition of the Amogavars against the Alans
While these things were being prepared, the Roman forces, not being able to oppose the hostile multitude in the field, were partly, under the leadership of Marules, and partly, under the younger Augustus, holding themselves in inaccessible places, fortified with valid circumvallation. The senior Emperor, however, holding the city, sent word that the crops in the fields, not yet ripe, must be destroyed, so that they would not be of advantage to the enemy: for there was no adversary coming then, but they would nevertheless have perished from the lack of cultivators to gather them; such was the slaughter of the rural populace in the prior incursions, that, as those interrogating the host were told, it could be elicited that at least five thousand farmers had been slaughtered across that great space of land and time by the hostile iron. And the Emperor then held the plan of maintaining the war, considering it for the time most judicious. The Turcopoles, along with others whom we have mentioned in the counsel of pursuing the Alans, having been drawn into society, with the utmost haste followed after them, and having overtaken their baggage and the proper provisions each was carrying upon wagons, they were roughly four hundred in number. They had already arrived at the borders and almost the first reaches of Bulgaria, whom the pursuers also caught. The battle, to be sure, was joined. The Alans, indeed, having arranged themselves with the wagons, of which they had a great abundance, were defending themselves with them as a palisade, long resisting most strongly C. But many of them, having stayed, exchanged a glorious death for the kinship of hospitality, and lost many, and even more than the Persian [loss]. Finally, having fared well in the battle, and the light missiles having been consumed by the Alans, and D after they were routed in flight, they plundered much booty. And they [the Romans] did not know that the women of age and the spoils, having been seized after days of plundering, were there. To march in from thence from Orestias was unknown to them, so that having come first, they—not of such wantonness—cut down the vines, and the produce not yet fully ripened they bitterly harvested. But having encountered [the enemy] in that same marketplace, they set fire to the trade goods before they were taken by the settlers, and having seized from there toward the city what they had, they skirmished. But those with the *pincerna* Angelus and with the Scoutarius Chumnus, having preceded the others and having advanced with the Tsar’s bones and the battle [equipment], entered the city, and as they were able, rendered necessary care to those arriving. They were fighting off those who were attacking. For eight days they resisted the attacks vehemently, not yielding in the daily battle. And the Catalans who were survivors of those captured—who had remained after the Caesar [was] slain—and were not among the twenty left, when they surrendered the city, said that nothing bad would befall them. As to those who held nothing of those inside, they
A nor did they rest; they were always committing outrages. And this council of theirs was hesitant: some thought they should cross the area between Branchialion and the city, and having ravaged the inhabited land, they might finally approach the city and, sitting before it, demand their wages. If they obtained them, [well and good]; but if not, they would execute what had been decided. But others—and especially the Turcopouloi, because their own [families] were being held by the Alans—thought it better to go against them first, having sufficient provisions on wagons. For the B Alans, having once rebelled against the Emperor, sent to Sviatoslav, who had already grown powerful (for he did not abstain from Anchialus itself, and by now not even [from] Mesembria, nor from Agathopolis itself and its surroundings, but was master of these by agreement). They requested that he send Bulgarians, by whom they might also ward off the Romans when they came against them. But those [Bulgarians] were sent out, numbering up to a thousand, as rumor had it. Emboldened by these, the Alans, having overrun and plundered much of the area there, were moving toward Sviatoslav along with their wives and children. Because of this—[the Turcopouloi] being carried along with them [the Alans]—they persuaded the Italians and the Persians with them C to hurry to intercept them first; for they asserted that there was no small amount of booty with them, which they had previously seized from the Romans, and that they would perhaps prevail over the Alans. The Persians said these things and prevailed in the councils; for except for a few, all the wives with the children of the Turcopouloi were being held by the Alans. For this reason they had the others following [them]. But also a sufficient number were left behind. Except for certain ones, as the wives had been sent to the city by the Alans [while] the treaties were prevailing, having previously rebelled against the other labors... their own. D [P. 420] And for this reason they outrun... they had the others following. Not, however, without also a sufficient number being left at Callipolis and at Madytos (for it, too, a short time before, was captured by assault with great slaughter because of the famine, as has been said by me), so that they might guard the fortresses... because of the...
A four hundred (for this too was researched by Romofortos, as if it were not possible for the opponents to hold the coastal regions of Thrace [P. 424], since they were being obstructed by the emperor’s ships). Immediately, a contingent—especially of the Persians—entering the narrow passages of Ganos, seized the approach and, by plundering large amounts of booty from Eudemoplatano, killing many, and making themselves soundly fortified from there, they attempted more energetic things against the rest. From there up to Rhaidestos, and across toward the wide expanse of Bizye and beyond, they completely laid waste to the entire region, gorging themselves on the fruits of others; for by harvesting the crops that were ready for the sickle, and by taking prisoners, they brought in countless wealth B, carrying everything on wagons and beasts of burden. C It seemed good to the emperor, therefore, to take counsel in order to send many and bring everything above and below Selymbria. Moreover, for many other reasons they were delaying the attack. To this, D there was answered then, I think, also the vision of a dream that appeared to one of the
10. Expedition of the Amogavars against the Alans
At the same time as these orders were being given, since it was not possible for our people to stand against such a multitude—they who were encamped in part near Maroules and in part around the emperor in the fortifications—the emperor sent to remove the things around the city, and this at the very time of the sickle and the harvest. [P. 491] For they were committing no small slaughter by coming upon them. Whence there was a report that they themselves were saying, when asked by their own men how many each of them had killed in those years, that those who fell totaled about five thousand. And the emperor did these things; but they, carrying their own equipment and provisions on wagons (the story is that these were also over four hundred), went to meet the Alans with all haste. And, having reached about the borders of the Bulgarian dominion, they joined battle and fought fiercely against the Alans, who were also fortified by the wagons belonging to them. But many of them traded a glorious death for a base love of life; yet they themselves lost many, and more of the Persian contingent, until finally in the battle they were successful, and when the light missiles of the Alans were exhausted and they turned to flight, they enslaved much booty. And having plundered the women of age and the spoils, they were selling the booty the following days. They then decided to invade Orestias suddenly, so that, having arrived, they first broke the vines from such recklessness and bitterly harvested the grain that was not yet past its prime. And having fallen upon the market-place of that city, which had been set on fire by the inhabitants the day before they invaded, and having easily seized it from that point, they skirmished against the city as they could. But those with the pincerna Angelos and the Scuteris Chumnos had entered the city before the battle, and finding there about a hundred and fifty who had left from the East, they took the best possible care with them and defended against the attackers as they could. But they were attacking fiercely for eight days and did not cease from the daily battle. And they were demanding the bones of the Caesar and those of the Catalans who were still alive, as many as had been left behind of the captives from when Roger the Caesar was killed—saying that if they would surrender the city, about twenty who were left behind would suffer no harm. But since they had the men inside submissive to nothing, more energetic...
A maneuvering followed; for the emperor Michael had set out from there and was tarrying about Morra.
The retreat of the ships that had been taken to the Lazes.
They were besieging things more forcefully. And first, they approach what was called the Bary [Heavy] Gate, casting fire and burning it completely; as it was fenced within by a wall of stones, they were at a loss, and they set up siege engines. And they prepared a siege device—a ladder with wheels, easily moved and covered over with ox hides—and they set it against the walls, urging on those who were to mount it. Among them was even Pharenda Tzimes, holding a banner in his hands and vaunted as being from the extremity of Sicily, being full of hope that the capture of the city was as good as done. When the battle was joined hand to hand and the more impetuous ones were already climbing up, those inside, struggling against them, brought up a long column, slammed it against them suddenly, cast down the engine, and brought destruction upon all who were operating it there. And thus, despairing of the uprising, they set B about it, having lost not a few valiant men. And from there they attempt Pamphylus, and having done and suffered similar things there, they C turn toward Callipolis, and what an opportunity for a successful operation might present itself there. Yet before they were ordered there, since the ships from Genoa, having returned from Trebizond and the upper regions, had put into Constantinople and were already intending to sail homeward (for it did not seem right to the emperor to keep them for service, as it was not in their nature to fight on land, and the Amogavari were scouring the interior), though what was possible for them appeared useful to the emperor, they asked the emperor whatever he might command. He ordered them to put in near Callipolis on their way and to make an attempt—and they agreed, since it was guarded by only a few—and if they could accomplish something noble, then to sail on. So when they put in, having joined battle, they attempt to set fire to the emporium, and having kindled a fire, they burned also one of the D ships stationed in the harboras well, and they lost one of their own noblemen, a man of illustrious descent, in the battle, and the admiral Mouriskos was wounded. But just as they were attempting to take the city, a part of the enemy appeared, and by raising a great cloud of dust and thus appearing to be the entire army, they struck fear into those fighting on a sudden. And because of this, having taken not a few spoils and having backed away, they departed for their own haunts. A Since it was also bruited about by Romofortos—that he would be able to transport as many of his forces as he wished across the Thracian shores, so as not to be hindered at all by the king’s ships—a company, especially of Persians, immediately broke into the narrow passes of Ganos and seized the mountain ridge by storm. Having plundered much booty from Eudemoplatanos, and having slain many, they made themselves ready from that point, and having secured their safety from the fortress, they set upon the rest more openly. From there even to Rhaidestos, and the lands toward here in breadth to Bizye and beyond—having thoroughly desolated all that great tract of people—they feasted on the fruits of those lands. B
How those at Ganos were captured.
The emperor again sent, trying to persuade them, with terms of peace, to depart upon receiving money. But he did not persuade them through his envoys; for Romofortos sent back the same men, rejecting the peace unless such and such should be, saying things he had indeed predicted previously. There were also envoys from Kountheoblathos to Romofortos, seeking a truce and seeking to betroth to him the sister of Kountheoblathos, the widow of Tzakas who had been slain, so as to have an alliance against the Romans; and to these Romofortos was agreeable. When the emperor’s envoys returned to the city, and having brought the reaper-prisoners of the captives to account, they reported a wealth of immeasurable proportion, being served by wagons and beasts. C It seemed good, therefore, to the emperor and his counselors for a long time to send to burn the crops standing above and below Selymbria; yet, for the sake of many causes, they hesitated and deferred the operation. At this time, I believe, there was fulfilled a vision of a dream that appeared to one of the palace-order three years prior. He had seen Persians riding on camels, stretched along the eastern shore from Scutari to far-off places; but presently the camels were suddenly borne flying through the air with their riders, and in—three years earlier than their crossing over to the Italians, or that these things should come to pass. For Persians kept to camels—as even later, when he sent, it was shown in a dream that they were standing along the eastern shore from Scutari and beyond, but suddenly they were borne through the air, the camels and their riders flying to the opposite land. And these things were done in the month of Anthesterion, when Emperor Michael, smarting from their [the Latins'] transgressions, having few with him—those who had come up from the West from the interior—sent to his father asking that he be permitted to sally forth against them, unless he were otherwise willing to provide aid from there. For it was sought that the land was already being raided and was clearly doomed to be completely destroyed unless someone provided support. But the scarcity of those around him was a hindrance, and it seemed better at that time to delay with prudent caution.
Chapter 22. Things concerning Melek and Isaac once more.
And he was occupied with something else of greater importance. For as the Persian Isaac (for this was his name), whom we recorded as previously being among the Latins in the West—sending word to the Emperor unknown to them, and wishing to arrange a truce with him on account of a marriage alliance, that is, the one involving Melek’s daughter, and having been discovered, he returned in peace and pressed again for the truce, promising many other things that would be advantageous to Roman affairs, and indeed also that he would bring over the Turcopoles, who had earlier revolted, provided only that their wives and children, who had been sent to the city by the Alans, were restored to them—the Emperor, desiring by all means to weaken the forces of the Latins, accepts the embassy, and giving humane responses, he considered how he could establish these arrangements in the proper manner. A Nor will it be amiss for us, perhaps, to go back and declare concerning the girl: whose daughter she was, and how, city by city, she happened to be raised in Roman customs. Azatines, then, that sultan of whom we spoke in previous books, while Persia was still established under him, after his father Japhatines—whom the Persians also obeyed—was out of the way, entered into great disputes with his own brother, Rucratines. For they were contending over the rule, and he kept on struggling, even inclining toward the Tocharoi, who were already attempting to attack Persian affairs, and having taken sufficient forces from there, he sought to bring what strength he could against his brother.
A Azatine, however, having been pushed by them, learned that he might obtain imperial help by way of an agreement, so that he could prevail and go over to the one who had reigned before him, Lascaris. He, for his part, received him with human kindness and treated him with the honors that were fitting, though he did not judge it necessary to keep him, being anxious about his own affairs, lest the Tocharoi—who until then had been ill-disposed toward the Persians—should be won over by the alliances with Rucratines and, becoming masters of them, have the capacity to attack Roman affairs from a closer proximity. For this reason, having gathered his council around him, he proposed that they deliberate on the matters before them, with one exception only: that Azatine should be kept there. For this, [he said], was a plan befitting one who was unfaithful to the emperor, and who would choose to deliberate for the harm of Roman affairs; it would be doing and saying the same thing as if one wished to tear down the parapets of the fortresses while still wanting to preserve them. B Since, therefore, the emperor had forbidden Azatine to be kept among the Romans, and the council agreed, he who had come over departed immediately, though he did not bring his brother with him. And when he fought against him again more clearly, and it was not possible for the one who was lagging behind to remain, since he heard that Lascaris had passed away and that Palaeologus had been established over all things, C he—having as a pledge for himself his acquaintance with the one who had reigned—went over to him, hoping to obtain an alliance. But he was much deceived in his hopes; for the emperor, placing all matters concerning the Sultan [of the Turks] as secondary to his affinity with the Tocharoi, betrothed the Tocharoi leader Chalan, sending him his illegitimately born daughter Maria, and even though in the meantime he had passed from among men, Abagas, his brother and successor in the principality, took Maria as his wife. D Furthermore, having the Sultan in the city, which had already been taken by the Romans, he was distracting him with hopes from elsewhere. But he, not being ignorant of these designs, having seized the opportunity, as we mentioned in earlier [books], fled from Ainos, and with the Tocharoi toward the West, and at the same time with the Bulgarian leader Constantine, he set out on his flight along the northern regions of the Euxine.
23. Regarding the affairs of the Church.
[P. 428] When these things had come to pass, the patriarch Athanasius, wanting to represent an abundance of piety—as he did with things pertaining to the deification of the soul—would offer prayers twice and three times a week, and he would dispense punishments that were very severe to those who were at fault. Yet, indeed, he seemed to have attained [a state in which he could] look towards further holiness, having put away—as he believed—that pillar [of the Church], and he was getting rid of the Alexandrian and was alienating the one from Constantinople because of the monastery of the Odigos, which he had hoped that he—Athanasius—would get rid of the Jerusalemite...
A And many, indeed, were being cast into prisons, and were permitted neither to have any consolation nor to be released from the one holding them, just as even some of the monks fleeing, because there was no safe place for them anywhere to flee to, were staying in fortresses in Peraea. It was contrary to the principle of helping those who are wronged, to be treated cruelly so that they might even thus be saved. And this was directly opposed even to the old saying of Diodorus: when one is being judged for accusations, it is right that justice should be shown, not what is customary; and not that everything is to be judged before it has even happened. Now, as for the one who was acting as patriarch in the Emperor's stead, and what was conceded in all matters regarding the certain knowledge—that he, as it were, should be comforted by the most brilliant gatherings in the churches, and that the offerings are for the Emperor—so too, to believe and to be ready to obey, just as he was also announcing, and to frequently meet and carry his extravagant robes, that one he did not let be, but from day to day he was [presenting] B [P. 427] C ...
[The page contains a large break in the narrative, jumping from the situation of Athanasius to the account of the Persian refugees (the children of Azatinus / Sultan Izzeddin Kaykaus II) and the subsequent military and diplomatic maneuverings in Thrace and at Pegas.]
...was led to the Euxine [Black Sea], who, having been baptized there, was adopted with enthusiasm. Having crossed this Euxine, he reached Kastamone. And having already submitted to the Tokhari, he attempted to recover his paternal and ancestral heritage. But Amurius stood in his way, and kept fighting without ceasing, until, being overpowered, he arrived with his wife at Heraclea in Pontus and decided to join the Emperor. And having arrived at the city, when the Emperor was staying at Nymphaeum at that time, he left his wife in the city and, guided by those of the Emperor, traveled on the path leading to him; and how, having taken councils from Atramyttium, he fled, and how he managed his affairs, has been told previously. Later, however, his wife also returned, upon his request and the Emperor’s granting it. But the daughter was left as a hostage. This one had been raised in the city for many years under the imperial allowance, just as Melik Constantine, the other of the Sultan's sons, was also enrolled among the Romans. When Isaac, who was himself called Melik, learned of this daughter of that Melik, he asked for her in marriage again. He also requested that her uncle, Melik, be appointed Sultan by the Emperor, and that he be sent there, so that he, too—having been adopted as a son by the Emperor Isaac—could act on behalf of the Romans as far as it was possible. For this reason, the Emperor, having welcomed the cooperation of the Persian, did not yet deem it appropriate to install Melik, the girl’s uncle, as Sultan; but he treated the girl well, and having prepared a great dowry, he sent her with him across the sea to Pegas, so that he might announce that they should settle and establish the agreements, with Melik also leading the city of Pegas. However, he also prepared many small boats there to transport the Persians, if they wished. At the time when the Latins, with the Persians, were besieging the tower of Rhaedestus, intending to take it and use it as a base to keep watch over affairs in Thrace, the Emperor sent two triremes...
A and attempted to transfer from there the portion of the population useless for war, which was stationed at the entrance of the Beautiful Gates, because they only remained for the duration of the war. But as they approached, the Persians stood in the way and risked a direct confrontation. Then, learning of the Emperor's concern for them, they temporarily withdrew, and, as if choosing to avoid battle, they retreated. The crews of the triremes, having in the meantime rushed in, brought down many of the useless ones from there, and having thus scattered them, made those enclosed more robust, such that even when going out, they pursued the attackers. The latter, hindered by these events, raided the areas up to Selymbria and nearby, and badly handled those who happened to be late and were shut up in the forts.
23.
The events regarding the order of the Church.
B With these things having taken place, Patriarch Athanasius, as if being munificent in matters of devotion to God, performed litanies twice and thrice a week, and meted out heavier punishments to those who transgressed in any way. Nor was this all; but also, appearing to attain a greater piety, he removed that tablet of the three patriarchs named Germanus, the one on the right for those entering the Beautiful Gates, towards the one transferred from Orestias, because he himself had cooperated as an envoy in the peace with the Italians. And he removed a royal portrait, fashioned from golden thread into the shape of a sharp veil, which that man, while patriarch under Emperor Michael, had hung up towards the west between the red columns, having changed the one there into the figure of the new Constantine who appeared to the Romans as C the likeness of the renowned Constantine. And these things, which had been preserved during the previous days of his patriarchate in that form, were later changed as if out of some neglect by those who had changed their minds, just as a potsherd might fall. And he, mixing divine justifications into everything, scolded the many without restraint, being openly censorious himself, and whatever report reached the ruler was either for piety or action, and prisons and condemnations awaited those who transgressed in some way. The affairs of the common Church were moving towards a small circle, with the Patriarch of Alexandria having been exiled, and the one of Theopolis being also alienated on account of the monastery of the Odegon, which someone was hoping to store away, and the one of Jerusalem, Athanasius, having been removed from the way. DA And many were handed over to prisons because of hearsay, as, for instance, a certain Brulas from the Romans, and the bishop of Caesarea Philippi, having approached the emperor himself and the patriarch and submitted his report, was sent with envoys from the emperor, hastening to refute the charges. These, having arrived in Jerusalem, expelled the patriarch, but installed Brulas upon the throne of Aelia—contrary to the will of the emperor (for the emperor was driven by zeal alone to have the crimes examined)—carrying, as it was said, the filth of anathema. And henceforth with that man also suspended, the one holding the patriarchate alone, together with the one presenting [the offerings], while the one of Alexandria and the one of Theopolis were already suspended, was commemorated in the sacred diptychs. As for the chief priests, some went into exile, and he compelled those who were resident to go into exile. And the honorable men of the clergy, whom he viewed with suspicion, he deprived of their rations and made inactive. Moreover, the emperor’s aversion to those who stumbled in any way against him was inexorable, as he wished that man, through modes of piety, to have neither any indulgence nor to be liberated from any triviality, to the extent that even some of the monks who had fled, since there was nowhere for them to take refuge, took refuge with the guards in Peraea. The hardship proposed by the judges was to see if they might thus be saved. And this was exactly the saying of the father Diodorus: to harm some deeply, when they mix in divine justice. [P. 430] But it is not a paradox that something happened outside of custom, but that not everything that takes place is within one’s hopes before it even happens. The emperor’s reverence for the man holding the patriarchate, and his concession in all things from a conviction not at all small, as it seemed, so as even to delight him with most brilliant vestments together with the many votive offerings for the temple, so that it might be believed that these were for the sake of the greatest piety and beauty of the emperor, and to obey readily whatever he might signify, and to encounter him often; in festivals, wearing ornate and extremely expensive vestments, he did not allow him to remain quiet, but daily opening the way through
the Great Primikerios Cassianus, and for his noble rank sent to the regions of Mesothinia, in order to set affairs in order there as best he could. Having spent some time in the fortresses there, when it was decided by the council to collect the customary taxes from the landowners, so that these might serve as wages for the soldiers stationed there, he—either to win the favor of the people or for some other reason that seemed good to him—arrested Bardales, who had been sent for this purpose, and beat him with many stripes. He was particularly angry because Bardales had previously reported the worst things about him to the emperor, having received these accounts from others: namely, that he was forming an affinity with the Persian and conspiring with him against the imperial interests. For this reason he was ordered to appear before the emperor. But he, despairing of A His own situation, and fearing to meet the emperor, chose instead to rebel, and by making a pretense of his affairs—he was even sitting there—by means of the Gam- B pantas, he was preparing to create an alliance and to enslave the holy places as much as the circumstances allowed.
25. How the enemies prepared for the fortresses around Ganos.
But the Turks in the West were not idle. On the contrary, having seized the places of the holy Elias, and having divided their troops into two, they were putting pressure on those inside, until those men, worn out by a water shortage of many days—just as the leaves of trees wither and living things perish from the lack of flowing water, and many had died—gave themselves up, and the fortress as well. Yet they did not burden the Persians, due to the complete transformation of their situation; and having sent for the man called Romaiophoros, who was present, with force, though with some difficulty, he barely rescued the Persians around him, and after much discussion, they were received on condition that they would depart with the holy Gospels, and as far as they were concerned, they provided lenient treatment. And they do this C also at the tower of Raidestos. For they persisted for a long time, making assaults on the fortress, but they achieved nothing. Finally, having also set up an engine, a stone-thrower, at night they hurled many missiles, and boulders of great weight—fifty minae in weight—often fell, and if, due to the slightness of the tower, most of the projectiles missed and fell outside, yet often more than three hundred of those inside, [P. 431] being pushed into a corner by those attacking them and suffering many things, until, having been forced, they also surrendered according to the promised conditions. But Romaiophoros did not D permit his own men to join them, or those who wished to defect, but rather, the tower having been captured by the throwing of stones from his engine, and having taken the fortress of the holy Elias, he treated them humanely as guests, and sent the soldiers there to Raidestos, intending to destroy it and to kill everyone he found. Those who had been sent there were more eager, and surrendered themselves [...]
however, as he was still anxious, he did not cease—not even for a short time—to consider how he might manage his own affairs, which were in such a wretched state.
On the alliance with the Iberians, and how it failed.
He put off his departure to the emperor. A Having been deprived of his best general, and having won over a portion of the soldiers, he wandered about unhindered while seeking pledges of safety from the emperor. But when he trusted himself to Chele and thought he had received the pledges of safety from there, certain of the citizens of Chele happened to be in the city and promised the emperor to capture the fugitive by treachery and deliver him to those who would bring him. And they did this as quickly as possible; for when one of the eunuchs was sent for this purpose, he remained hidden beneath the decks of the ship, while they, appearing familiar, entered the fortress and shared their plan secretly with others. At midday, after dinner, they stood by together, and while those guarding him were scattered, they surrounded and bound Him, and brought him at the same time to the emperor as a prisoner. The emperor, not deigning to say anything to him, threw him into prison along with Cotanitzas, since he had formerly written to his own co-father-in-law, the one in charge of the ink-stand [canicleus], threatening a similar defection to that of Cotanitzas if he were not treated with compassion. B And it seemed at that time... Hence, he resolved to send an embassy to the Eastern Iberians for an alliance, which he had been intending to do for a long time; he sent those who would call them, since they were ready to come without pay, and to support the Roman state with only horses and the necessary expenses. Hence, not long after, Chatzikes, one of the magnates of Iberia, approached the emperor in order to establish a partnership with the Romans, but since the agreements were not agreeable to them, he returned without having achieved anything.
The marriage alliance with Charmpantan was being prepared very eagerly. Learning that the regions of Nicaea were being harmed, he sent his own sister, Maria—who was celebrated as the Lady of the Mongols—together with a sufficient force to Nicaea. She arrived...
[P. 434] to convey to him that she was sitting there to handle the concerns of the Mongols and the affairs of the Persians as best she could.
26. How the enemies occupied certain of the fortresses around Ganos.
Nor did the Turks in the West neglect their business in the slightest; rather, they took control of the region of Ganos and besieged the fortress named after Saint Elias. Dividing their troops into two, they pressed those inside from both sides so severely that at last, overcome by the long-standing water shortage—to the point that they were compelled to lick the leaves of trees to relieve the dryness of their throats, and to slaughter animals and drink their blood, having no other liquid to satisfy them for very many days, which caused many to die—they decided to surrender themselves and the fortress. However, they were afraid to entrust themselves to the Persians because of the difference in religious devotion, and so, having sent for Romofortus, they called upon him. He arrived, and although with difficulty, he and his men eventually drove out the Persians who were surrounding it, despite their much protesting and complaining to them. A They accepted the surrender on the basis of agreements sworn by the holy Gospels, and they provided the treatment that their own humanity dictated. They acted likewise at the tower of Rhaedestus. B They directed assaults against it but accomplished nothing. Finally, setting up a stone-throwing machine, they cast missiles for the most part at night, to the point that about one hundred massive stones were thrown; for the most part, they fell with the weight of fifty minae, even if, on account of the small size of the fortress, most missed their mark and the missiles fell outside. Yet they did not remain unharmed; rather, those inside, being more than three hundred, often sallied forth courageously, struck them, and caused them much damage, until they, too, were worn down and begged to surrender by agreement. But they did not persuade him; for Romofortus was enraged because he had lost many of his own men, and he had sworn that he would not accept them even if they wished to surrender—and all the more so because the tower had been weakened by the constant impact of the stones from his machine. For when he had captured the fortress of Saint Elias, he had treated the inhabitants humanely, inserted garrisons, and then proceeded toward Rhaedestus, intending to take it and slaughter everyone openly. The captives, however, implored him more fervently, delivering themselves up on the condition that they be saved, already from the hand of the...
A necessity of their situation and the danger hanging over them. Though they were in peril, yet, had not one of the bishops been present with them—and others with him—to implore the barbarian not to commit such a great slaughter, they would have been lost. At the same time, as it was said, they gave advice, flattering the barbarian's temper, since he was susceptible to being buoyed up by the rumors of kindly expectations. By such words, they struggled to work upon the barbarian with the sharpness of their speech. He proceeds to take away their money, leaving their bodies stripped of what they had, so that if they wished to remain, they might be judged worthy of some care, but if not, they might depart on the spot just as they were. He led his forces forward, driving them on at full gallop, and moved against the remaining fortresses. Rumor even had it that he was taking with him the bishop—this fellow was from Panion—and that he for the most part stood by and helped the enemies, so that the cities might betray themselves. And because of this, as was fitting, he was held to account by the Church, and the judgment was made known to the condemned man by letters from the patriarch. Grieved at the rumor and at the punitive judgment, he seized an opportunity and fled, arriving as quickly as possible to the emperor. The emperor, being of a soul expectant of relief from foreign help, yet through his own efforts devised many ways B to bring these destructive men into a state of treaty through payments.
The Genoese who were in the city, having just then for the first time received [the mandate] from their own council—this title denotes the leader, and he holds the protection of the people, just as the praetor of the people did long ago among the Romans—wished to be reconciled with the Amogavars. For they could not otherwise sail upon the lower sea for their own business. For this reason, the Abbot accepted the [mission of the] embassy. When this was made known to the emperor, since he had no army of any weight to send, but only some of the light-armed companies under the great hetaireiarches, Doukas, whom he had led/commanded previously, [fearing] that if they were to attack secretly and from ambush (for it was not possible to stand against them openly), he could not accept that the Genoese become reconciled with the enemies of the Romans. Hence, at first, by sending, he tried to hold back the intention; but when he could not persuade them, [he decided] that they should be friends with them no less [than before]...
XXVII. Embassy of the Genoese and of the Emperor to the Barbarian.
...by their own council—the title denotes the leader, who holds the protection of the people, as the praetor of the people did of old among the Romans—wished to be reconciled with the Amogavars; for they could not otherwise traverse the lower sea for their own business. For this reason, the Abbot undertook the embassy. And it was made known to the emperor, since he did not have an army of weight to send, but [only] certain of the light-armed contingents C around the great hetaireiarches, Doukas, whom he had previously led as the commander of the army, [fearing] that they might attack in secret and from ambush (for it was not possible to stand against them openly), that for this reason it was not possible to approve of the Genoese wishing to form a peace with the enemies of the Romans. D Hence, initially, by sending, he tried to hold back this intention; but as he could not persuade them, [he conceded] that they should again be friends no less, provided that if they were in danger, there be someone among the bishops present with them—and others with him—to implore the barbarian not to commit such a great slaughter. At the same time, they offered advice, as was said, flattering the barbarian's temper, as he was easily puffed up by rumors and kindly hopes. By saying these things, with the sharpness of their rhetoric, they with difficulty worked upon the barbarian. He carries off their money, and leaves their bodies stripped of their possessions, so that if they should wish to remain, they might be judged worthy of some care, but if not, they might depart thence just as they were. He led his forces forward, driving them on from the reins, and against the remaining fortresses. Rumor had it that he was also bringing with him the bishop—this man was of Panion—and that he was for the most part standing by and helping the enemies, so that the cities might betray themselves. And because of these things, as was to be expected, he was also held to account by the Church, and the judgment was made plain via letters from the patriarch to the one who had been condemned. He, deeply grieved at the rumor and at the punitive judgment, seized an opportunity and fled, and arrived at the emperor’s [camp] as quickly as possible. The emperor, being of a soul expectant of help from foreign sources, yet also by his own means devised much to bring these destructive men into a state of treaty through payments.
A Since the state of affairs for the Romans was such that they were constrained, even when those within the city were being pressed—for there were many who were continually arriving, and since the city was already overcrowded with men and animals, so that the excess of the animals had to be slaughtered daily for the butcheries—the emperor consulted with the hegumen and sent him as an envoy to the Amogabares, so that if they were willing, the matter might be resolved for large sums of money, for appropriate honor, and for the governorships and protections that those wishing to serve the emperor would rightfully receive. B Having entrusted these things to the abbot, he sent him forth. C When the abbot arrived and handled the matters of the embassy for several days, he achieved no more, nor did he return unsuccessfully, for the demands of the Romofortus were many and terrible, and such as could not be brought to pass. For he desired to sell back to the emperor, for great sums of money, places, bodies, and fortresses, and he also demanded the back pay for his soldiers. He insisted that if he could not, he would apply himself in whatever way he could to oppose the Romans and fight to the end. These things the Pharenta Tzimes, who was at Madytos, also reported by sending a messenger; for he was more lenient than the Romofortus in his dealings with the Romans. But he—along with the Turks and his own men, and also the Romans who had defected from the East and, having shaved their hair and beards, had assimilated themselves to the Amogabares—not yet having well managed the answers of the ones who were sending them, having arranged the campaign, drove with a clatter of hands even as far as the city. D And it was possible from then on to see those from outside, and even those who dwelt in Peraea, as day and night they were crowded at the gates of the city, passing through with difficulty along with animals of every kind, and many lay along the streets of the city, having abandoned their labors. At that time, the one who was performing the duties of patriarch multiplied the litanies within the city daily, while the emperor, maneuvering against the things being rumored—because no small slaughter had been committed, for those who lagged behind...
A occurrences in the city were happening just so (for the forces were failing), or to entrust the vengeance to God and seek from Him the retribution for the blood unjustly poured out. Nevertheless, he did not fail to perform what was possible regarding the present state of affairs. For, having sent more frequently to the Doux and Grand Hetaireiarch by virtue of his office, he directed him to follow quietly in the tracks of the destroyers, since it was not possible for the entire system to stand directly against them. Whence he himself, falling upon them from a hidden place many times, caused damage to those bringing up the rear. From Tzurulon, those inside, having taken courage, attacked Raedestos more manfully and treated those there badly, in addition to carrying off a sufficient amount of booty. That this occurred was manifest, as it demonstrated to the enemies, and they, having received this, pursued the turn of their course backward. Nor, however, did the Turks on the eastern side of the crossing fare well, but they often attacked and treated badly many who went out for the vintage, so that even those in B the Hieron [temple/fortress] were secretly caught, even if they went out again, being afraid, and not being sufficient in number to hold the fortress, they bought their safety through the payment of designated taxes. But to those also who were hard-pressed at Melea and to many who stood together in it, the fighting force there fell upon them and became the superior party, so that on almost the same day the emperor received favorable reports from both sides. And these things seemed to be the fruit of those frequent processions of the patriarch, and from this, it was possible for the farmers to go out for the sowing of the fruit-bearing crops, even if, on the one hand, expectation of the enemies and the fear from that source, and on the other hand, the prohibition of sowing—the will of the emperor having tested this, so as not to sow for the enemies the next year—made their impulses better, and they did not dare openly the going out. For these reasons, the affairs of the plow were being performed, and the most grievous famine was threatening our people, for...
A the enemies were allowed to lay heavy hands on these, and not even to allow these to sow. However, Sphantisthlab was thirsting for peace, and wished to establish a kinship with the Emperor, and regarding these matters he brought forward as mediator to the Emperor for his requests John, who had been patriarch (for he too had been captured there along with the Sozopolitans). The Emperor, however, while procrastinating, was nonetheless overcome by necessity, and by sending, he judged it best to make peace according to his desire. For he was asking to take one of the daughters of the Emperor Michael; but the towns that he had already seized, he did not release, although he intended to preserve them for the children and spouses. The Emperor, wishing to act otherwise concerning the contract, was putting him off. And in the meantime, he, being in suspense, allowed the grain there to be sailed across; and thus the Romans were being fed with grain, and what was being done was a remedy for the famine.
28. The events concerning Bizye.
[P. 438] The Amogabari were always moving their forces through Thrace, and they were attacking the fortresses in it, but because of the defenses from within, they did not have what to do. Rather, they were even suffering losses as those men were riding out against them, and since B they were often prevailing by attacking and fighting more powerfully, they were attacking the fortresses, as also the one called Brysis. [P. 439] From there, therefore, those around Pharenda Tzimes were advancing upon Bizye, having become more numerous with the Persians. And those around the great tzauzius Umpertopulus, being more than two hundred horsemen, were not emboldened for a sally against the many, and they remained locked in the fortress. But the multitude there was taking on a martial spirit, and by surrounding their leader, they were clear, if he would allow it, that they wanted to fight. He, deceived by their boldness and the strength of their numbers (for the infantry were filling up to thousands), organized the horsemen and marched out with bows. It was therefore prudent to hold the ridge and to risk danger more cautiously, being helped from there by the difficult terrain; but since a detachment was leading them on while they were perishing, having abandoned this, they were on the rough ground of the
A Persians and the sin of the people seemed to place our affairs in the balance, so that those things which were lost were understood to be lost because of sin, while those that remained were preserved through the supplication of the righteous. And the things of divine wrath were plain and visible; but whence and for what sins it was being ignited was reasonably obscure, as different people blamed different things.
XXIX. Still concerning Isaac Melik and the Turks. B Then Isaac Melik, for whom the bridal procession was being prepared at Pegae, a city by the sea, having arranged to bring across the Persians from the other side so that the marriage might be completed in that way, took with him some men of his own faction, intending to cross the straits of the Hellespont and personally lead away the Persians. And indeed, having found a crossing, and having crossed with some, he persuades the Persians—and more especially those who were familiar to him—to desert the Amogavars. C And having taken heart, they were immediately arrayed against the horsemen and infantry on the plain there. The petition of the many [involved] women begging God that they should stand firm. However, there was a stratagem of the Persians: they sent forward cavalry to skirmish against those who appeared. But they were not yet well seen while in danger face to face, and the ruse was manifest, and being seized by cowardice, they retreated at full speed. And having struck into a myriad multitude of infantry, they slaughtered them pitifully, like flocks, so that many fell at once, at which time those within the fortress, fearing and dressing up women as men, supposedly as a show for the guards, placed them upon the towers, until the emperor, D hearing and grieving over the disaster, sent to those appropriate and fortified the fortress.
The patriarch, having put out of the way the archpriests and the honorable men of the clergy, used the superiors of the monasteries as counselors for judgments, and with them he managed ecclesiastical matters. With these men, and with the monks under them together with the presbyters and the people, he held litanies each week, petitioning them to tremble, and concerning the city itself, and before the children and...
inhabitants of the region, they attacked the Italians, and by guile slew them. Those [Italians] who turned to flee with all their strength toward the shores, hoping to be transported by the emperor’s ships, set up an apologetic defense and invented pretexts. When this became known, the Amogavari, spurred on more than was necessary, attacked those fugitives. When the battle followed at Eudemus, though not a few of the Italians fell, yet more than two hundred of the Persians were killed, and they [the Amogavari] were victorious and overcame them by force. When the Persians began to lean toward them again, they would not put their trust in their alliance before they had surrendered not only Isaac Melek, but also their own leader Tachantziaris, who individually commanded the Turcopuli, and indeed a third, the brother of Isaac Melek himself, as he appeared to have been added to them. When these had been betrayed, they did to death Isaac with the block and the sword—not only him, but his brother as well—when they were being executed, they crossed their heads on the ground so that the decapitation of both might happen at once. Then, stripping the corpses, they found the imperial gold-sealed document hanging from their shoulders; upon reading it, they found therein and in others of the Persians who were leading those in the West, that great promises had been made for their defection, along with the name of Tachantziaris himself; at which those [men] became anxious for themselves. For this reason, they withheld the slaughter, but gave them over to the most secure prisons. A Since they had received and given pledges to the Persians and were about to march out against Tzurulon, the Turcopuli would not advance with them unless their own leader, Tachantziaris, were released from custody. This was done, as it seemed they were of one mind, when it appeared they would march straight for the city; and again those outside were moving their baggage—those whom the need to plow compelled to stay behind. But they attacked Tzurulon, having reached the end, with those inside resisting them. Tachantziaris, by night, together with very many of the Turcopuli, fled from Auteros to Tzarapen at Apros, and they were received after standing there, the declarations of their desertion having been made beforehand by messengers. Those of the Persians who had been left behind at Tzurulon, having learned of the event, immediately fled with all their might toward the shores, as they would be transported by using the ships of the Italians. Moreover, the Italians, not bearing the slight, pursued them from behind.
30. Concerning Pharenta Tzime
And these things seemed good to the Romans, and B they obtained a respite from slaughter, the Amogavari being content for the present to consign all of them to most secure prisons. Thus the Persian militia was reconciled to them, and in turn the Italians themselves were appeased and now again trusting, and when they wished to lead forces against Tzurulon, the Turcopuli denied they would go unless their leader Tachantziaris were first released from custody. This was granted to them, so that the entire forces seemed now to be in accord and sufficiently prepared for them to do anything with one mind. Hence again a rumor was spread that the whole army would proceed straight to the city; from which a new trepidation overtook the peasants who had hitherto remained in the country for the sake of doing their sowing, so that they too might pack up and run to hide themselves and their possessions within the walls of the city. But the Amogavari, thinking at that time that the siege of Tzurulon should be preferred to the attack on the city, moved themselves against that town, though with not the success they had hoped for: repelled indeed by the strong defense of the Tzurulonians, they suffered no small losses. Armed, and prepared to avenge those who offered resistance, they headed toward the shores of the sea, where certain ships of the emperor were awaiting them, by which they might be safely transported into Asia. As soon as the Amogavari learned this, rising up with mighty wrath, they pursued the fugitives with extreme speed. Having caught up and joined in sharp battle, they fall and slay in turn; yet, in the end, with not a few of their own lost, but with far more Persians—namely, over two hundred—slain, they emerge clearly victorious and bring the Persians back into their power. These, since they could do nothing else, were again inclined to serve in the army with the Amogavari, as before. C But these men denied that they wished to admit them as allies, or to trust them at all, unless they first surrendered to them not only Isaac Melik, but their own commander Tachantziaris, who commanded the Turcopuli, nay even the third, the brother of Isaac Melik, by whom, as it seemed, they were especially induced to defect. Having surrendered these, Isaac was indeed ordered to press his neck upon the block and his head was cut off with a sword; and not him alone, but also his brother was slain by the sword being driven into his neck in like manner, their heads being thrown down on the ground together, because the blow had been dealt to both at one time. Then, plundering the corpses, they found the imperial diploma, secured with a gold seal, hanging over the shoulder of Isaac beneath his garment; having read which, they observed therein those who were invited by name with great rewards proposed for crossing over to the side of the emperor, besides all the Persian leaders serving in the western region, including Tachantziaris himself. Whence, anxiety was injected into all of them to purge themselves one by one, as each best could, of the suspicion of the contemplated defection. Therefore, they vied with one another in bringing evidence to that end, and were not altogether unsuccessful. For through these, at the time of the capture, Tachantziaris fled by night with most of the Turcopuli, betaking himself to Tzarapen, the commander of the fort called Apros; and he was admitted by the garrisons inside the fort, the faith of a true desertion to the side of the Romans having been made first by suitable messengers. The Persians, however, who were left at Tzurulon, upon learning of the flight of the Turcopuli, suddenly fled themselves also toward the shores, where they knew the ships of the Italians were standing empty, D which they hoped they could seize by force and cross into Asia. The Italians, having discovered this treachery of theirs, pursued the fugitives, while the Romans rejoiced that their enemies were engaged in mutual civil strife. But greater still was their cause for joy, that Pha-Arenda was expected to incline toward the Emperor, following great promises. Yet that man, while already pretending to be coming over, became weaker in his impulses—for Mpyrigerius had arrived suddenly on a very large ship carrying many of the cavalry—because there were frequent and very great promises from Theudericus in Sicily to them, should they persist. Nevertheless, it was clear that he was not abandoning the agreements made with the Emperor. And sending ahead, he announced the most terrible things concerning the Emperor's sister, Asanis, reporting that she was sending her own servant, Cannaburius, to them, urging them against the Emperor on account of old grievances concerning the Caesar. The Emperor, having learned this and having made inquiries, discovered it to be in part true; he took this in anger and, having sent for his own sister, shut her up in the palace, hanging the investigation of her affairs upon a more complete inquiry. B That man [Pharenda], sending for those who would bring him to the Emperor as though he were seeking it, caused two triremes to be sent out for this purpose. When they drew near, they made for Mpyrigerius’s ship, as though to take it. But Tzimes, sending out, preserved the ship, saying that the people in it were his own—that they should not fight, but that they would depart out of it and he would attack them, if they wished, in the morning. Saying these things, he was deceiving them, and sending out crates as if they were his own treasures with some baggage, he was giving pledges to the words from which he was acting deceitfully. But at night, the captain of the ship having been strengthened with more men, the plan of our men regarding him was voided from that point, and they did not make the attempt at all, and he himself showed that he was not sound in his pledges. And because of this, they—having suspicions—opened the crates and found the trick plain; for the fillings were sand and stones, and there was nothing at all ambiguous to indicate that the whole thing which he said and did was a deception. Wherefore they returned empty-handed to the Emperor. C Another one of them, Pharentzanezas, the own brother of the one who had been appointed Domestic of the Schools, and himself an Amogabarus, came over to the Emperor with fifty men; and the Emperor, having received him and those with him with proper honors, sent them on. And so much so, that ambassadors from Rhodes were sent to the Emperor, freedmen on the Emperor’s ships, requesting that the fortress be granted to them so that they might live in love and be reckoned in submission to the Emperor, fighting from there against the PerDsians.
C And they promised that three hundred of their finest warriors would be at the Emperor’s disposal to be sent wherever they might be commanded. However, the Emperor did not assent to these terms, but instead prepared the ships again and sent them to Rhodes, assisting the Rhodians as much as he could. In that same month of Boedromion, on “New Sunday,” the prisoner Meliteniotes also died, remaining in his original opinion just as Veccus had, and asking nothing more of the Emperor than that his body be buried on one of the uninhabited islands near the city. This was done; he was taken to Plate and buried in the customary fashion. Metochites alone was left in prison, not yielding at all even himself in the things he had held to from the beginning.
32. Regarding the uprising of the Amogavars.
The Amogavars, being greatly distressed by hunger (for they did not wish to sow), and at the same time unable to endure the stench of the dead, abandoned Raidestos, Pania, and the Ganos districts and arrived in their entirety at Ainos and Megarisio. Leaving there only enough for a guard, they were forced by hunger and need to engage in risky battles, suffering no less damage from the surrounding inhabitants. And it was a rumor believed by some, including those who seemed to be sensible listeners, that the Maritsa river, having discharged much of its water into the sea and having become passable in some measure on foot, would allow them to cross toward Boleron. Hence many, anticipating this, moved out from there and hid themselves in the fortresses, hoping to keep occupied that area which had not yet been plundered by anyone.33. The capture of Trikokkia by the Persians.
On the other side, toward the east and especially around Nicaea, things were in a grievous state, as Atman was causing turmoil there, especially since Maria, the Emperor’s sister—who was called “Lady” by the Mongols—had established herself at Nicaea and was treating Atman from a position of superiority, appearing clearly to threaten that she would denounce him to Charpantan. And it did happen; thirty thousand men, as the report went, were sent toward the eastern parts of Persia. Warnings of this reached the Emperor, and the Emperor sending [P. 445] continued to show them great honor A using them as a fortified garrison...and even when absent, he used them to keep the rest in check A (for he valued the Roman forces under Mpyrigesius no less than those he had with him). And although the Emperor continued to show Atman great honor with frequent and magnificent gifts, these did not make Atman any slower or more prudent in his actions, but rather urged him on still more, so that he attacked Nicaea, uprooting vineyards and destroying crops; and finally he attacked Tricoccia, the fortification of the Nicaeans, and having besieged it with all the multitude of Persians around him, he suffered much from them—for they were fierce, and long-trained archers from the start. But finally, filling in the moats on which they relied with crosses, stones, trees, and earth, he brought them to a standstill, and having carried out a great slaughter, he secured the place for himself, as it seemed, for an attack by the Tocharians, should they arrive. It was the height of summer, and the Emperor's ships, about ten in number, along with the commander of the army, Marules, were sent off towards Thasos. For the nephew of Manuel Zacharias, who was most faithful to the Empire—a man most unfaithful—having arrived at the island with two ships, had behaved like a pirate and taken the fortress. He rebuilt it and held it. Because of this, the Emperor sent the commander of the army with ships, commissioning him with the siege of the island, in the hope that they might take the fortress; he also instructed him to show great care for, and to reach, Aenus on account of the Amogabari, since those around Tzimes, as we were saying, having arrived at Aenus, were besieging it and attacking more energetically, even to the point of digging out its foundations from one side, although, striking against the native rock, they did not know what they could actually do. Meanwhile, those inside, one of those who possessed the art of digging having fled to them, were digging a counter-mine from within; and having anticipated the others, they suddenly brought the mining to where they were digging and contained and destroyed those outside. They wished to do this because they were also in danger of becoming a victim of famine. Hence, having prepared some small boats, they hastened to the other side of the Maritza, in order that they might bring grain from Boleron. The men of the commander of the army, happening upon these by sea, hastened to pursue them, eager for the prey.
Fuerat autem illi praeterea imperatum ut Aeni arcis ab Amogabaris obsessae, quoad inde posset, tutela prospiceret. Nam Tzimes cum suis, ut nuper dicebamus, versus Aenum profecti eam munitionem oppugnabant, omni ope subigere satagentes, adeo ut cuniculis sub humum ductis ipsa ejus penitus emoliri fundamenta contenderent. In quo magnus illis occurrit labor, quod petram subtus perpetuam repererunt ferramentis haud facile forabilem. B Tamen cum inceptum perseveranter instando proveherent, opportune obsessis accidit transfugere ad ipsos peritum quendam subterraneorum istiusmodi molitorem operum, cujus suaso ductuque contrarium et ipsi cuniculum effodiunt, quo progressi usque ad hostes caeca illa progredientes via nec opinato deprehensos interemerunt, labore ipsorum irrito reddito. Istud obsidentium incommodum aggravabat penuria commeatuum, et hinc metus ne fame perirent. Huic ut obviam malo irent, naviculas expediunt quibus in adversam Maritzae amnis delati ripam e Bolero et agris circumsitis alimenta corraderent, eisdem postmodum scaphis in castra ipsorum deportanda. Talem ipsos trajectum administrantes forte conspicati nostrorum quidam classiariorum, e mari fluminis alveum ingressi; ruunt statim cupidi venatores in praedam visam; quam ne caperent nihil eis magis quam nimia obstitit aviditas. Si enim lentiori pedetentim progressi remigio cymbas hostiles, quibus fluvium oblique secantibus...
non fuisset quicquam sublatum eorum, nisi quod vel ad ripas in praedam visam elapsi essent, vel quod in littore relictae a vectoribus naviculae in praedam venissent. Quae cum ita essent, Romofortus, dum per seipsum nihil a Myringerio gerendum putaret (minime quippe eum sub Myringerio poni ferre poterat), A 34. Concerning the seven ships of Gidas which followed the Amogavars. Perhaps they would have succeeded in their catch entirely; for had these [the Amogavars] slackened their rowing, and had those around Romofortus, moving without being perceived, crossed the river and reached the further shores as far as possible, perhaps they would have captured them within inescapable nets—even had they reached the shore, they would have profited nothing, B as it would be impossible to reach their own people with the river lying in the way as an obstacle. But as it was, our men, scouting them out, were soon in pursuit of them before they could cross the river. From which, having come into a narrow strait regarding their safety, since it was not possible for them to fight against the Emperor's forces, they ran aground on the shore. Trusting themselves to the land, while some were captured along with their ships, the greater part were saved. C Some, therefore, were consumed by the sword, others by fire. Gidas, whose name was rumored as a nephew of Theuderich, the governor of Sicily, hearing that the leaders of the Amogavars were not at all in agreement so as to entrust themselves to any one rule—but rather that some wished to be placed under Pharentes Tzime, while others, together with Pharentes himself, urged the leadership of the whole upon Myringerios (for he had returned again, as we said in the above accounts, having somehow escaped from Genoa)—for these reasons, this man was sent by Theuderich together with seven longships, D as the report had it. Others rumored that Matercas Pharentes, the son of the King of Sicily, was doing these things. I do not know if Gidas, being such by name, pretended to be the better of the King's sons, so that such a name might be spoken of from the outside as some great distinction. Nevertheless, even with his arrival, they did not all agree to be placed under him at all, and especially Romofortus, being entirely arrogant and acting proud, as to whether he should yield the command of a land which he himself had gained by the sword to another who had appeared only recently. And he did not yield to the counsel of the rest, but wished to have command by himself. Reports reached the Emperor that even Gidas himself would no longer wait, given the lack of agreement among the Amogavars. Meanwhile, as much as he could, the ruler softened those around Tzime with promises greater than they deserved, and from there he established their total discordance toward one another, and their...
A lives were not, even in a dream, supported by the one acting as patriarch. As far as there was any method and wisdom, nothing was wanting in him, being a deep thinker, even if he lacked forces to break, to the extent that it was possible, the impulses of these men. Hence, he put the eastern affairs, as it were, into delays, as if he were immediately to take hold of his own, if he should stir himself reasonably. But regarding the west, he was very anxious, desiring to tear out what was a kind of evil in his bosom. In this way, too, Atman, being suspended by hopes to the greatest degree, did not leave anything around Nicaea and Pythia and everything as far as the sea which he did not occupy.
XXI. The letter sent to the one acting as patriarch by the leaders of the Church.
The leaders of the Church, as we have already said, some being suspicious, others accounted for nothing, and those holding these stewardships being deprived of them and of their very offices (for when someone is accounted for nothing, even if he holds an office, it is of no use to him), but also being deprived of their revenues, and being reproached for negligence, and being commanded to appear for festivals in their vestments—having these things, I say, B as a burden, and suffering in this way, they brought reports to the emperor, and especially regarding their income. The emperor, as if softened, and having summoned the patriarch, setting this for common reflection, they deliberated about this. But the patriarch alleged the difficulty of the times. Finally, he ordered giving to each six of the coins, and to others eight. The emperor said that this was nothing, for these things to worldly men were little. However, of those things that had happened, no one was receiving anything. But they were compelled to appear near the church almost from the middle of the night, and in the middle of the hymnody no one was allowed to speak to anyone, nor to lean to the left, nor to the right, but to stand unmoved, as the account of the holy canons confirms. Therefore, they were negligent and rarely arrived at the church, and, so to speak, they were separating themselves. But the patriarch, sending writings to them, was calling them back, and was saying that these things should be read C in the middle of the synod of the superiors (for he performed the synods with them), as if, indeed, saying reasonable things. Being compelled, therefore, the leaders of the Church acknowledged the lack of life from the one acting as patriarch, nor even in a D dream, experiencing these things, they thus brought their complaints to the emperor, insisting most of all that their revenues, from which they might live, be restored to them. The emperor, hearing such things, as if softened by a certain pity, having summoned the patriarch, established a common deliberation with him concerning these matters. The patriarch alleged, lest he should restore the taken revenues to the ecclesiastics, the difficulties of the common times. Finally, he descended to the point of ordering that there be given to each of them, to some six, to others eight coins, keeping the proportion of the differences of the ranks of dignity between them. To which the emperor retorted that this was nothing: for not even a sum so small would seem worthy to be offered to worldly men: how much less would it suffice for ecclesiastics? None the less, the patriarch, persisting in his opinion, ordered these meager pensions to be offered to the holy men.A Since their spirits were constrained, they sent a letter to the patriarch, bearing the following words: "From of old, the Church of God, most holy master and ecumenical patriarch, did not find such laws and regulations, nor did it observe them up until your time; rather, those who held the patriarchate in their turn, and each one of the clergy of the Holy Great Church of God, found their station according to the progression of their virtue and their length of service. But we are arraigned for pettiness and reproached as heavy-hearted, because, abandoning the search for greater things, we seek after lesser things which are of no use to the soul. We do not seek our own, master, but the things of God and the Church. This is the order of the Church and the clergy, which we, knowing precisely, have grown old in. B And day by day others have approached and been accepted—men who were not vain or worthless—because they ceased to labor for six nomismata per year—not, by the sacred laws which the Fathers handed down!—but all of them, guarded by the power of grace, were patriarchs and archbishops, and common teachers, and luminaries shining in ecclesiastical dignities, honorable at the forefront, as indeed all things belonging to the Church were becoming to them. And those who presided over the Church at various times considered the members of the clergy as their own. But now, what is this? Perhaps someone might wish to put forward the difficulty of the times, as your holiness has done many times. But we are counted among all the Romans, and whatever condition each of them happens to have, we too have—yet we alone are unfortunate. And it is not that the Church is in need; rather, it is well-off, as much as we know. But because we are required to appear on Sundays and feast days in our vestments, we take our leisure each day, and we do not sin in this. But nevertheless, even in this we defend ourselves. For we know those very great men who came before us, whose places we have succeeded, that having churches at home and priests, they fulfilled the functions of their own services, while they also took their leisure in the church of God, as each had the capacity and the purpose for it. C The services of those men were the operations of their own offices, one as oikonomos, another as sakellarios, another as chartophylax, and D of the sacristan, and so on for the rest. It is a strange thing, then, that those who have been deprived of the remuneration and exercise of the offices long entrusted to us should be compelled now to other ministrations that concern us. But now, those frequent admonitory letters of your holiness compel us to minute observances, such as fathers once used to wring from us when we were little children with the threats of a pedagogue’s lash. But we have already grown old, having spent a greater span of time in the constant perseverance of celebrating and frequenting the Church of God, standing by as was required with sacred vestments for the public rites. Nevertheless, we obey these things now being demanded of us by your holiness, and we do them not only out of reverence for your paternal command, but also out of care for our own honor and for the love of the praise that belongs to those who provide such things. Indeed, it is true that we have slackened our pace a little from time to time...
A Yet the cause of this is not from us, nor should it be imputed to our fault. For this is the case: ever since your holiness has been in charge, you have conducted yourself toward us as if the Church had no clergy; you have shown no concern at all, nor have you taken into account any of us, neither the greater nor the lesser. This omission of your providence toward us has persuaded us to neglect our duties and to relax our constant attendance: for we neither receive anything of benefit from the performance of the office that has been taken from us, nor does any other subsidy appear, in the name of revenue or honor, from which we might support our lives. Because of this, we have run to our common benefactor and lord, the holy emperor; but by whom the beneficence we hoped for from that source was hindered, God knows. Nevertheless, you commanded that half of the stipend be given. And the emperor judged this to be too little—and justly so: for we cannot, through this small amount, be restored to a better condition, nor recover the dignity appropriate to our rank; nor indeed can we be vindicated from the reproach and contempt in which we exist. How much we suffer from extreme poverty, God, who knows it, can testify, along with certain men who have had the fortune to look into our miseries, not without a keen sense of compassion. B Furthermore, why has it seemed good to your holiness to animadvert against us, and that with bitterness? For it is reproached to us as if we greedily awaited the months of March and September. And upon these, that much-sung-of largesse: six hyperpyra, or perhaps even eight. Alas, alas, master, what does your holiness think about these things? It is a wonder, by the truth, what you are doing toward us. When the time of the established stipend arrives, either the necessity of affairs is alleged, or force, or the difficulty of the times. Then it is added: let them suffer, let them endure, for we are all pressed by the common affliction. But when the hour of service is present, you demand service from us as if we had the means of our support and the suitable rewards—the pensions, that is, which were accustomed of old to be supplied to us—as if we had them even now. But when we gather in the sacred house of God, we find first a grim countenance and are looked upon with a savage expression. But even our lord, the Augustus himself, would think he is being treated exceptionally well if it should happen that he is received with a more pleasant expression. But we, for our part, vow and pray that he may be freed, or at least lightened, of the inconveniences by which he is now pressed. Then we will run back again to his holy majesty, and whatever his holy soul shall suggest, that shall come to pass. Or if he should decide that we are to serve in the future under conditions as harsh as they have been up to now, those who accept what is so prescribed will even worship him. C For the rest, we have nothing more to say to your holiness, except that we were born and educated in the Church of God, and we have grown old in the same, and we shall remain in it to the end, and so far as our ability and strength permit, we shall serve. But your holiness knows what it does. Nor is it ignorant that if any of our incomes has remained safe from the hostile devastation, it is gathered as if it were yours by the procurator of your rights. But is this equitable? Moreover, we pray at least for this: that since you command the censorious epistles which you write to us to be read in the full synod, and our brethren, the heads of the monasteries, corroborate with their own votes whatever it pleases your holiness to say about us, that this epistle of ours also be read to them. D [How those who are to inherit are shamed, and behold the care as to how into the hands of the guardian—another, and so on with the others. A stranger A will testify, and those who have mercy upon us. Then what seemed good? Therefore, if we are deprived of those things, we are demanded for what is not proper. In the meantime, the frequent letters of your holiness compel us to that to which our fathers taught us from childhood and those who instructed us. Then also this many-years-long time, during which we have attended the Church of God and have had leisure with the sacred vestments. These things your holiness sought, and we do them, not so much for the paternal command as for procuring honor for ourselves. But it is true that we have neglected a little. And the cause is not from us. Since your holiness stood over [us], as if the Church had no clergy, so you began to be disposed toward us, not caring for us at all, neither for the greater nor for the smaller. And toward such lack of leadership we have neglected much of our attendance, because no duty was being performed, nor anything else—neither revenue, nor honor, nor life—appeared from there. For this reason we ran to our common benefactor, the holy emperor. And from where the beneficence from there was hindered, God knows. Nevertheless, you ordered the half of the stipend to be given. And the emperor judged it to be little. But why is even this taking place? Are we in an argument or in honor? How much misery we have, God B knows; [you ought] to visit us for your holiness' sake, and this with bitterness? For we are reproached as if we were time-serving for March and September. And upon these, the rumored gift of six hyperpyra or even eight. Alas, alas, master, what does your holiness devise against these things? It is a miracle, by the truth, what [you] perform against us. When it is the time of giving, [there is] the necessity of things, or the force and the difficulty of the time. Let them toil, let them suffer; for the difficulty is common. When, however, it is the time of service, you demand such service from us as if we had sufficient of our economies. When we happen upon the temple of God, we receive [from you] first an unsmiling and unapproachable character. In the meantime, [there is] prayer that the difficult things be relaxed and [for] our holy emperor. And then we shall run back toward his divine majesty, and whatever the holy soul of his empire may signify, this also shall happen; but if even so he ordains us to serve, those who accept will worship. We, however, have no more to say to your holiness, except that we were born, and raised, and grew old in the Church of God, and we shall remain again in the Church and serve according to our power. But your holiness knows what it does, because even if something were left...
the management of those of our affairs by our enemies, and of the spirit. We have been forced to state these things; yet he who is the guardian of your rights will summarize it all. And is this a good thing? Yet we ask only this: since you command your writings addressed to us to be read out in synod, and our brothers, the hegumens, vote with us on what is pleasing to your holiness, that this writing of ours might also be read, so that they may discern whatever they can as Christians. A And there is another thing that oppresses us more grievously: that we have remained unpromoted for so many years. This seemed right to you, and so let it be. Where the damage falls, the prudent man understands. But for us to be deprived of the incomes of our offices and to die of hunger, what canon of the Church, or what act of the Fathers, or what rights allow? Still, let even this be. But so that we do not become the authors of our own deaths, we shall run about the doors of the Christians and make demands, and—alas!—we, the foster-children of the Church, shall be fed from the doors of the Christians, lamenting our state with wide mouths, as is expected. We ask to remain in peace. And let us not be distressed by your letters, while we are already being wronged. For the present, we are ready to serve according to our strength, and we trust that our reward—if God wills—we shall not lose, even if you do not hesitate to break the bruised reed and become more bitter than the times. But it was not proper for one who is deemed a man of the good and loving God, as the Romans and those freed in Christ, not to be enslaved in his liberty, to act in such a way. Indeed, the rescripts of Severus and Antoninus, though impious emperors, contain good things and are retained even by pious ones, so that servants are not compelled beyond their strength in any way. Furthermore, the justifications of God, as if we should be standing entirely fixed like pillars in the church, B talking to one another concerning nothing—even if a necessary need arises—is this what was fitting for us, O Lord? If we are to be like monks and like them to be in the church, such that we do not have to wait for the day to dawn before we are dismissed, nor have any outside people approaching us. But now, from midnight until midday we stand, and there is a populace and a multitude and bells, and not all that is being done is prayer; rather, there is chanting and readings and sitting and relaxation in between, according to which it is permitted to others to speak and do what is present as necessary. For we do not have other stewards, so that upon being dismissed from there we might rest at ready tables, but we will perhaps care for our affairs in the intervals, as is to be expected. Do not, therefore, treat us according to this high and great standard, and hold us to be lowly and worldly people, and attribute the matters of necessity to the judgment of neglect. For we will fail, believe us. And if we are about to be condemned from this…