The problem with covering hundreds of years of history is it tends to jump around from wild
successes to massive failures with the flip of a page. Since the previous blog, it's been a little while. Constantinople's power had gone up and down - and, at the beginning of the 9th century, it was just starting to turn around again, this time for the better. The Byzantine empire stumbled upon a number of (literal) gold mines, teaching religion outside of the Latin language helped to solidify ties with their territories, and education began to find importance again. Then came the time of Michael the Drunk - a man whose name tells you almost entirely everything you need to know about him. Almost. What's just as important is he had an uncle who was much smarter and more capable than the frequently inebriated emperor. His uncle would be slated to take the leadership once Michael's death came through either an assassination, an unfortunate drunken tumble down the stairs, or a liver that finally collapsed under the weight of so, so much abuse - or so it seemed. Michael was impressed by a peasant whom he believed was a particularly talented wrestler, and decided that being able to pin someone was a good enough reason to pass the crown on to him. The uncle warned him against this, both because it was obviously ludicrous but also because he didn't trust the wrestler. As it turns out, similar to the rest of his life, he should have listened to his uncle. They were murdered by the would-be successor, and with that the Macedonian dynasty began under the leadership of Basil I. That's assassination one. There are plenty more to come.
There's Basil on the left, wrestling a man. The crowd are all politely watching, yelling for a suplex, or at the very least, a beheading. |
Unfortunately, since Constantine VII was only six, he didn't really rule anything, even after Leo died. Leo's uncle, Alexander, who had lived in his shadow long enough took the true role of leadership instead of the title and started to undo much of what Leo had completed. However, after only thirteen months he died while playing a game of polo - perhaps the lamest death of an emperor since the guy who suffocated himself almost immediately after taking hold. Even then, Constantine VII wouldn't rule. The general Romanus had won the hearts of the people through killing that special number of people to warrant moving up the political ranks, and while he promised to "protect" the emperor, he soon became it himself. He had a large number of sons and it looked like he was going to start a dynasty of his own. But here's the kicker - his favourite son died, and he believed his other ones, well... sucked. So he returns the leadership to the at least sort of rightful Constantine VII (how rightful can you be when pretty much everyone finds their way through assassinations or usurping?). To keep with the tally, that's a polo-related death, a death of a son who would be emperor, and the hundreds of non-important deaths of military campaigns that are always glossed over in the wake of rulers.
Look! There she is, Theophano, poisoning her husband! I think. How can anyone tell? Maybe that's why it was just a rumour. |
He was well suited for it; capable and proven in military prowess (which is kind of the Byzantine Empire's man thing, as with most empires) and he proved to be a success. However, he was a successful jerk, and his nephew, Tzimiskes, was growing ever popular. More than that, he was particularly popular with Theophano whom Nicephorus had married, and in a Days of Our Lives-esque betrayal, he was sleeping with her. In a more violent version of Days of Our Lives, Theophano and Tzimiskes brutally murdered Nicephorus, (fourth assassination?!) and took the throne for themselves. By this point Nicephorus was so strongly disliked by the general population, this takeover went about as smoothly as brutal, savage murders could.
Nicephorus: either this is how he looked, or it's an action figure. Look at the base at the bottom - that's so he doesn't fall off your shelf. |
Once the dust settled (and soaked up the increasing pools of blood that had been occurring in the empire in the past while) Tzimiskes went on to succeed time and time again in military assaults on the then collapsing Arab caliphate. Upon his return, however, he would prove to be yet another casualty, but this time from the aristocracy. Finding fields and fields of land, he questioned who it belonged to and found that it belonged to Basil Lecapenus. Not fond of the idea of losing his lands or being thrown in jail for what I'm sure was some shady dealing, Lecapenus poisoned the emperor to save his skin. Assassination number five. Whoever was hired as the personal bodyguard of the emperors must be absolutely atrocious at their job.
It was a wild two-hundred years or so. Massive military campaigns, assassinations galore, and more Basils than an over-spiced spaghetti. All in all and in spite of all of that, the Byzantines came out rather strongly. But, that wouldn't last for long. The Crusaders were coming, and the fall of the power of the empire was nigh. So, so nigh.
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