Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118-1143 0198888678, 9780198888673

Citation preview

OX F O R D S T U D I E S I N B Y Z A N T I UM Editorial Board jaś elsner   cat h erine hol m e s jam es h oward- joh nston  e liz a b eth j e f f reys hu gh kennedy   marc l au xte r m a n n pau l magdali no   h e nry m ag u ire cy ri l mango   marlia m a n g o cl au dia rapp   jean- pierre s odin i jonat han sh epa rd

OX F O R D ST U D I E S I N B Y Z A N T I UM Oxford Studies in Byzantium consists of scholarly monographs and editions on the history, literature, thought, and material culture of the Byzantine world. Theodoros Prodromos: Miscellaneous Poems An Edition and Literary Study Nikos Zagklas John Zonaras’ Epitome of Histories A Compendium of Jewish-Roman History and Its Reception Theofili Kampianaki Symeon Stylites the Younger and Late Antique Antioch From Hagiography to History Lucy Parker Homer the Rhetorician Eustathios of Thessalonike on the Composition of the Iliad Baukje van den Berg Depicting Orthodoxy in the Russian Middle Ages The Novgorod Icon of Sophia, the Divine Wisdom Ágnes Kriza The Beginnings of the Ottoman Empire Clive Foss Church Architecture of Late Antique Northern Mesopotamia Elif Keser Kayaalp Byzantine Religious Law in Medieval Italy James Morton Caliphs and Merchants Cities and Economies of Power in the Near East (700–950) Fanny Bessard Social Change in Town and Country in Eleventh-Century Byzantium James Howard-Johnston Innovation in Byzantine Medicine The Writings of John Zacharias Aktouarios (c.1275–c.1330) Petros Bouras-Vallianatos Emperors and Usurpers in the Later Roman Empire Civil War, Panegyric, and the Construction of Legitimacy Adrastos Omissi The Universal History of Stepʻanos Tarōnecʻi Introduction, Translation, and Commentary Tim Greenwood The Letters of Psellos Cultural Networks and Historical Realities Edited by Michael Jeffreys and Marc D. Lauxtermann Holy Sites Encircled The Early Byzantine Concentric Churches of Jerusalem Vered Shalev-Hurvitz

Emperor John II Komnenos Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 M A X I M I L IA N  C .  G .  L AU

Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP, United Kingdom Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries © Maximilian C. G. Lau 2023 The moral rights of the author have been asserted All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by licence or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Control Number: 2023941099 ISBN 978–0–19–888867–3 DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198888673.001.0001 Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY Links to third party websites are provided by Oxford in good faith and for information only. Oxford disclaims any responsibility for the materials contained in any third party website referenced in this work.

Acknowledgements This monograph would never have been possible without the support of many people at Oriel College, St Benet’s Hall, Worcester College, the programme in Late Antique and Byzantine Studies, Oxford, the Oxford University Byzantine Society, the University of St Andrews, Hitotsubashi University, Tokyo, the Muintir Uí Chroidheáin in Blackrock (‘the working group’), the Stabi in Berlin, and many in Guernsey too. Without Mary Whitby and Ida Toth, I would never have been able to translate all that Greek. This work would never have been as critical without the ideas and feedback from my doctoral examiners and readers Paul Magdalino and Catherine Holmes, nor my editors James Howard-­Johnston and Marc Lauxtermann. Further feedback and ideas came from Peter Frankopan, Elizabeth and Michael Jeffreys, Yasuhiro Otsuki, Jonathan Lewis, Ian Forrest, Kirsty Stewart, Tim Greenwood, John Ritzema, Aoife Ní Chroidheáin, and João Dias. Equally, I have immense thanks to many other scholars who were very willing to share their work early so that it could be included in this publication. Above all, I would like to thank my late, great supervisor Mark Whittow for setting me down this path, and I wish he could have seen the final result. The best part of this research was the fieldwork across the Balkans and the Middle East, where people were incredibly welcoming and helpful, especially when I was still a postgraduate scholar very much out of my depth. Of particular note are Sami and his people at the hostel in Jericho in the West Bank, and the variety of characters at the Old Town Hostel in Pristina, Kosovo. I would never have been able to do this research without grants from All Souls, Oriel and the British Institute at Ankara, and without the companionship of Aoife Ní Chroidheáin (all of those Pontic backroads), Douglas Whalin (getting lost in Serbia and fortress hunting in Bithynia), Hal Bigland (the Konya-­Antakya road trip), Benjy Mason, Will Yates (Georgian auto-­repair), and then those two with Rufus Stirling and Esteban Ramírez (down and out in Israel and Palestine). Finally, I would like to thank my parents and Aoife for supporting me throughout this journey, as well as my school teachers Chris Fothergill, Ronnie Womersley, and Peter Brakewell for getting me into history in the first place.

Contents Maps Author’s Notes Abbreviations List of Figures

ix xi xiii xvii

Introduction: Overshadowed by Father and Son? 

1

One: Sources: Problems and Opportunities

9

Two: Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople

42

Three: The Horizons of 1118

77

Four: Nomad Invasion

102

Five: Client Management and the Crisis of 1126

120

Six: The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War

140

Seven: Betrayal and Conquest in Anatolia

170

Eight: The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria

193

Nine: The Last Campaigns

247

Ten: Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army

272

Eleven: The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism

306

Conclusion: New Rome Rebuilt? 

332

Bibliography Index

341 377

Maps Map One: Eastern Mediterranean

41

Map Two: Black Sea

101

Map Three: The Venetian War

126

Map Four: The Balkans

37, 139

Map Five: John’s Balkan Fortress Network

165

Map Six: Anatolia, c.1130

169

Map Seven: Cilicia and the Levant

192

Map Eight: John’s Anatolian Fortress Network

38, 289

Map Nine: Eastern Campaign, spring/summer 1137

200

Map Ten: Eastern Campaign, autumn/winter 1137

224

Map Eleven: Eastern Campaign, spring/summer 1138

230

Map Twelve: Danishmendid Civil War, 1142

259

Author’s Notes Note on Transliteration In general, I have transliterated Greek names and terms as closely as possible, but not with absolute consistency. Common names, places and ethnonyms are given in their most familiar form, for example, ‘Kinnamos’ and ‘Komnene’ are used but alongside ‘Constantinople’, ‘Choniates’, and ‘Cuman’ rather than Konstantinoupolis, Khoniates, and Kouman. I tend to have used ‘Latins’ rather than ‘Franks’ for clarity, though the terms are both used in Greek, Syriac, Armenian, and Arabic texts to refer to western Europeans.

Note on Citation Where one page number is given for a primary text, it will refer to the text in its original language. Where two page numbers are given (e.g. NC, p. 14; tr. p. 10), the first will be to the text in its original language, and the second to the translation. Where two numerals such as ‘10.5’ are used, they refer to the book and chapter, respectively. All maps and photos are the author’s own from fieldwork in 2014 and 2015 unless otherwise stated. Numerals given to poems and seals are those used in the published editions, e.g. ‘Prodromos XV’ refers to Hörandner’s numbering.

Note on Translations Greek and Latin translations of the court sources are my own unless otherwise stated. When translations to aid clarification for common sources such as Choniates are required, standard editions are used unless otherwise stated. French, German and Italian have been consulted first hand. For other languages such as Russian, Hungarian, Syriac, or Norse, I have either used standard translations or consulted fellow scholars at Oriel College, Oxford and the Central European University, Budapest. I am hugely indebted to them for these additional translations.

Abbreviations AIPHOS AK al-­Azimi

BMGS Byzantion BZ CFHB CFHH Chron. 1234

CSHB DHGE DO

DOC

DOP FRA FSI Gregory the Priest

IRAIK Italikos JK

JÖB

L’Annuaire de l’Institute de Philologie et d’Histoire Orientales et Slaves Anna Komnene, Annae Comnenae Alexias, ed. D.R.  Reinsch and A. Kambylis (Berlin, 2001) F.  Monot, F, ‘La chronique abrégée d’al-­ Azimi années 518–538/1124–1144’, Revue des études islamiques 59 (1991), pp. 101–64 Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies Byzantion: Revue internationale des études byzantines Byzantinische Zeitschrift Corpus fontium historiae byzantinae Catalogus fontium historiae Hungaricae, ed. F.  A.  Gombos, 4 vols (Budapest, 1937–43) Anonymi Auctoris Chonicon ad A.C.  1234 Pertinens, vol. II, ed. I. Chabot (Leuven, 1974); English tr.: A. Tritton and H. Gibb (ed. and tr.) ‘The First and Second Crusades from an Anonymous Syriac Chronicle’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland 1 and 2 (1933) Corpus scriptorum historiae Byzantinae Dictionnaire d’histoire et de géographie ecclésiastiques Catalogue of Byzantine seals at Dumbarton Oaks and in the Fogg Museum of Art, ed. J.  Nesbitt and N.  Oikonomides, 7 vols (Washington, DC, 2001–20) Catalogue of Byzantine Coins in the Dumbarton Oaks Collection and in the Whittemore Collection. Vol. IV: Alexius I to Michael VIII 1081–1261, ed. M. Hendy (Washington, DC, 1999) Dumbarton Oaks Papers Fontes Rerum Austriacarum Fonti per la Storia d’Italia ‘Continuation of Matthew of Edessa’, Armenia and the Crusades: Tenth to Twelfth Centuries: The Chronicle of Matthew of Edessa, tr. A. E. Dostourian (Belmont, MA, 1993) Izvestija Russkago Archeologičeskago Instituta v Konstantinopole Michael Italikos, Michel Italikos Lettres et Discours, ed. P.  Gautier (Paris, 1972) John Kinnamos, Ioannis Cinnami Epitome rerum ab Ioanne et Alexio Comnenis gestarum, ed. A. Meineke (Bonn, 1836); Deeds of John and Manuel Comnenus by John Kinnamos, English tr. C. M. Brand (New York, 1976) Jahrbuch der österreichischen Byzantinistik

xiv Abbreviations KC Kleinchroniken, Die byzantinischen Kleinchroniken, vol. 1, ed. P. Schreiner (Vienna, 1975) Matt. Ed. Armenia and the Crusades: Tenth to Twelfth centuries: the Chronicle of Matthew of Edessa, tr. A. E. Dostourian (Belmont, MA, 1993) MB Μεσαιωνικὴ βιβλιοθήκη, ed. K. Sathas, 8 vols (Venice, 1872–94) MDAI, AA Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Athenische Abteilung MGH (S) Monumenta Germaniae Historica (Scriptores) Mich. Syr. Michael the Syrian, Text and Translations of the Chronicle of Michael the Great. Vol. 1: The Edessa-­Aleppo Syriac Codex of the Chronicle of Michael the Great, ed. G.  Ibrahim, English Text Summary by S.  Brock (New Jersey, 2009). French tr. J.  Chabot, Chronique de Michel le Syrien, Patriarche Jacobite d’Antioche (1166–1199) (Brussels, 1963) MM Acta et Diplomata graeca medii aevi sacra et profana, ed. F. Miklosich and J. Müller, 6 vols (Vienna, 1968) MPH Monumenta Poloniae Historica, ed. A.  Bielowski, 6 vols (Lwów, 1864–93) Muses ‘Die Musen des Kaisers Alexios I’, ed. P.  Maas, BZ 22 (1913), pp.  348–59; English Translation: The Alexian Komnenian Muses, R. H. Jordan, C. Roueché et al. (Belfast Agreed Translation, unpublished, 1989) NC Niketas Choniates, Nicetae Choniatae Historia, ed. J. L. van Dieten (Berlin, 1975); English Translation: O City of Byzantium, Annals of Niketas Choniates, tr. H. J Magoulias (Detroit, 1984) ODB The Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium, ed. in chief A. Kazhdan (3 vols., Oxford, 1991) Pantokrator Typikon ‘Le Typikon du Christ Sauveur Pantocrator’, ed. and tr. P. Gautier, REB 32 (1974), pp. 1–145; English tr. R.  Jordan, ‘Pantokrator: Typikon of Emperor John II Komnenos for the Monastery of Christ Pantokrator in Constantinople’, Byzantine Monastic Foundation Documents, ed. J. Thomas, and A. Constantinides Hero (Washington, DC, 2000), pp. 725–81 PG Patrologia graeca, ed. J. Migne PL Patrologia latina, ed. J. Migne Priest of Diokleia Το Χρονικό του Ιερέα της Διοκλείας: Κείμενο, Μετάφραση, Σχόλια, τα Πρόσωπα και ο Χώρος, tr. Angeliki Papageorgiou (Thessalonike, 2012) Prodromos Theodore Prodromos, Theodoros Prodromos: historische Gedichte, ed. W. Hörandner (Vienna, 1974) PSRL Polnoe sobranie russkih letopisej PVL Povestʹ vremennyh let REB Revue des études byzantines RHC Recueil des historiens des croisades RIS Rerum Italicarum Scriptores

Abbreviations  xv RP Smbat Sparapet SRD SRH TIB TM Zonaras ZRVI

G.  Rallis, and M.  Potlis, Σύνταγμα τῶν θείων καὶ ἱερῶν κανόνων, 6 vols (Reprinted Athens, 1966) La Chronique attribuée au connétable Smbat, tr. G.  Dédéyan (Paris, 1980) Scriptores Rerum Danicarum Scriptores Rerum Hungaricarum Tabula Imperii Byzantini Travaux et Mémoires John Zonaras, Ioannis Zonarae Epitome Historiarum libri XIII–­XVIII, CSHB 49, Vol III, ed, T. Büttner-­Wobst (Leipzig, 1897) Zbornik radova Vizantološkog Instituta

List of Figures 1. South-­east corner Tower of Lopadion

35

2. South-­western towers of Achyraous

35

3. Pantokrator Monastery/Zeyrek Camii

35

4. Church of Hagioi Anargyroi, Kastoria

36

5. Church of Hagios Nikolaos tou Kasnitze, Kastoria

36

6. Walls of Belgrade Castle

144

7. Northern view from the hilltop site of Braničevo

145

8. Northern view from the summit of Stari Ras

150

9. North-­westerly view from the summit of Stari Ras

151

10. Rebuilt amphitheatre of Viminacium

159

11. View of Ram and the Danube

160

12. View taken from the north of Zvečan, looking south

162

13. View of Zvečan from the south looking north

162

14. Komnenian style cloisonné masonry at Zvečan

163

15. The river valley leading south towards Jeleč

164

16. The valley surrounding Studenica Monastery

164

17. Kastamon Fortress 2013

178

18. Model representing John’s offensive strategy in Anatolia

182

19. Gangra 2014

187

20. Cisterns at Gangra and view from the citadel

188

21. Southern wall of Korykos

202

22. The twin castles of Korykos and Kızkalesi

203

23. The Cilician Gates 1935

205

24. The Cilician Gates 2019

205

25. Fortress of Gülek Gates and view of the northern walls

206

26. Cilician campaign order according to each source

208

27. Mopsuestia

210

28. The ‘main route’ up to Anazarbos

210

29. Alternative approach to Anazarbos from the south-east

211

30. Komnenian brick courses at Anazarbos

211

31. Anazarbos 1861 

212

xviii  List of Figures 32. Fortress of Tell Hamdun

214

33. Gastin/Baghras Castle

218

34. Early nineteenth-­century drawing of the Syrian Gates

219

35. Early nineteenth-­century drawing of Antioch

220

36. Iron Gates of Antioch

220

37. Vakha Castle

228

38. Aleppo Citadel

234

39. Shayzar Fortress and modern town from the Orontes

237

40. River Kelkit/Lykos from the ‘Kundu’ road bridge

250

41. Western view across Neokaisareia’s citadel

253

42. Lake Beyşehir

261

43. Plan of Lopadion

275

44. Bridge over the Rhyndakos

276

45. Achyraous from across the dam

277

46. Sultançayır Makestos Constantinian bridge in 2014

278

47. Plan of the Makestos Bridge

279

48. The towers of Kotyaion

280

49. Walls and Harbour of Attaleia

281

50. Pegae towers

283

51. View from Kalanoros/Alanya Citadel northeast

285

52. Detail of Kalanoros citadel chapel and inner walls

285

53. Kızılcaşehir

286

54. Classical Street in Syedra and Komnenian brick in the Syedra citadel chapel

286

55. Sydran Outer Wall with Komnenian brick, and the view from Syedra Citadel

287

56. Iotape

287

57. Antiocheia-­ad-­Craggum

287

58. Kisleçukuru

296

59. Floor plan of the three Pantokrator churches

309

60. John and Piroska-­Eirene mosaic of Hagia Sophia

329

61. Dedication Image in Tetraevangelion, Vat. Urb. gr. 2

330

Introduction Overshadowed by Father and Son?

John II Komnenos has the intriguing honour of being one of Edward Gibbon’s few Byzantine heroes: the eighteenth-­century historian, usually disdainful of all things Byzantine, judged that Marcus Aurelius, as a true Roman exemplar, ‘would not have disdained’ his successor of a millennium later.1 This generous ap­pre­ci­ ation of the twelfth-­century emperor is a nearly word-­for-­word translation of the judgement made by Niketas Choniates at the end of his account of John’s life in his Χρονικὴ Διήγησις, or History of the Roman Empire from 1118 to 1207, with both Gibbon and Choniates calling him the greatest of the Komnenos dynasty.2 Gibbon’s reiteration of Choniates is indicative of a problem that has affected scholarship ever since: what we understand concerning John II Komnenos’ reign has been shackled to its presentation in the writings of Choniates, and his fellow twelfth-­century historian John Kinnamos. Unlike John’s father Alexios I Komnenos, and John’s son Manuel I, there is no detailed major primary source for John, such as Anna Komnene’s Alexiad for Alexios and Kinnamos’ and Choniates’ fuller biographies for Manuel. Instead, there are only the summary accounts found in the histories of Kinnamos and Choniates. They present seductively clear accounts of major events, their causes and effects, in spite of the passage of four or more decades between John’s reign and the times of writing. But modern histories of John’s reign have tended to do little more than recycle this limited material, presenting the reign as a sequence of campaigns by an active soldier-­emperor, before concurring with Choniates’ and Gibbon’s original judgement. However, there is much more to be said about this ‘overshadowed’ period, a reign which had a direct impact on the vast geopolitical changes that swept Eurasia and Africa in the twelfth century. The emergence of territorial lordships under permanent western European rule in the Levant as a consequence of the First Crusade and responses in the Islamic world to these developments were only the most obvious of these changes. Old empires such as John’s in Constantinople were in competition with rising powers in an increasingly interconnected world, 1 E.  Gibbon, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, vol. 3, ed. D.  Womersley (London, 1994), pp. 70–2. 2  NC, pp. 46–7; tr. p. 72, cf. Gibbon.

Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143. Maximilian C. G. Lau, Oxford University Press. © Maximilian C. G. Lau 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198888673.003.0001

2  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 as political and military developments in central Asia and Western Europe were felt acutely in the lands between. John’s reign therefore merits closer scrutiny, in light of a wider range of sources than the histories of Kinnamos and Choniates alone. Foreign affairs need to be viewed holistically, and placed in their proper diplomatic and military context. Account must be taken at all times of the domestic context: the selection of key personnel, celebration of victory at court, and the Church. New questions should be asked of the sources, and more light cast on the state of New Rome in this period. Alexios’ beleaguered realm of the late eleventh century was transformed into Manuel’s grand empire of the mid and later-­twelfth: John’s role in this metamorphosis should be examined. A survey of modern work reveals the stranglehold of Choniates and Gibbon’s judgement on scholarly interpretations. The most important recent publication is that which resulted from a workshop held in 2014: John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium, ed. A. Bucossi and A. Rodriguez Suarez (London, 2016). The conclusion, that John deserved the favourable opinion of historians on the basis of his military achievements but that ‘otherwise no significant political events took place’, do him insufficient justice. Nor does it alter the image of John conveyed in popular works, such as John Julius Norwich’s Byzantium: Decline and Fall (London, 1995), A. Carr’s The Komnene Dynasty: Byzantium’s Struggle for Survival 1057–1185 (Barnsley, 2018), or K.  Lygo’s The Emperors of Byzantium (London, 2022). These all relate John’s life as one of continuous campaigning, with the emperor being a man of spartan tastes, characterized by faithfulness to his wife, who built a major monastery dedicated to Christ Pantokrator in Constantinople, but who was otherwise far less interesting than the rest of his family. Bucossi and Rodriguez Suarez’s volume opens with an historiographical essay by Stathakopoulos, who summarizes scholarship on John as an emperor perceived as ‘very important on the one hand, and yet apparently not worthy enough of being the subject of a dedicated monograph’.3 The closest thing to such a study is the first part of the second volume on the Komnenian dynasty by Ferdinand Chalandon published more than a century ago in 1912.4 This too echoes Choniates and Gibbon by portraying the reign as one of perpetual campaigning, with John himself being a morally upright and hardworking emperor as shown by his relationships with his family.5 This torch was passed undimmed to George Ostrogorsky who once echoed Choniates directly by calling John ‘the greatest of the Comneni’, again based upon his campaigning and personal character.6

3  D. Stathakopoulos, ‘John II Komnenos: A Historiographical Essay’, John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium: In the Shadow of Father and Son, ed. A. Bucossi and A. Rodriguez Suarez (London, 2016), p. 8. 4 F. Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, 1118–1143, et Manuel I Comnène, 1143–1180, 2 vols (repr, New York, 1912). 5  Ibid., vol. II, pp. 9–10. Stathakopoulos, ‘Historiographical Essay’, p. 8. 6 G.  Ostrogorsky, History of the Byzantine State, tr. J.  Hussey (New Brunswick, 1969), p. 377; Stathakopoulos, ‘Historiographical Essay’, pp. 8–9.

Introduction  3 This judgement has tended to be refined rather than re-­examined since then: Angold, Karayannopoulos, and Magdalino have offered short evaluations as part of their broader studies of eleventh- and/or twelfth-­century Byzantium.7 Into these appraisals, John’s reign is squeezed into a gap between what are implied to have been more dynamic periods of the eleventh and twelfth centuries. They discuss some elements of continuity and change between Alexios and Manuel, and offer an updated examination of the sources, but the overall analysis of John as the campaigning, moral emperor remains largely the same.8 From these studies, Stathakopoulos chooses Magdalino’s contribution to the 2008 Cambridge History of the Byzantine Empire as one that summarizes the consensus on John: (a) he campaigned in order to prove himself a legitimate emperor to a domestic audience rather than necessarily to expand the empire, and (b) the great change he could have brought about by reconquering the east was left undone by his early death. Stathakopoulos also echoes one of Ostrogorsky’s points: John did as much for the empire as was possible at the time.9 Angold and Magdalino’s consideration of John’s reign in the context of a broader historical investigation is replicated across the rest of the field. Examples from his reign are integrated into wider studies such as those on Byzantium and the Crusades by Harris and Lilie, or Byzantium and the Balkans by Stephenson and Madgearu. Only a very few works, notably Birkenmeier’s Development of the Komnenian Army, Stanković and Zlatar’s analyses of Komnenian Constantinople, or studies on the monastery of Christ Pantokrator, devote substantial sections to John.10 By contrast, in Angold’s Church and Society in Byzantium under the Comneni, John is barely mentioned, except as 7 M. Angold, The Byzantine Empire, 1025–1204. A Political History (London, 1984), pp. 181–90; I.  Karayannopoulos, Ιστορία Βυζαντινού Κράτους, Vol. III: Ιστορία Υστέρας Βυζαντινής Περιόδου (1081–1453), Part 1: Τελευταίες Λάμψεις (Thessalonike, 1990), pp. 108–23; P. Magdalino, Empire of Manuel I Komnenos 1143–1180 (Cambridge, 1993), passim, but especially pp. 35–41. 8  Although Karayannopoulos offers a more negative assessment of John’s strategic choices. 9  P. Magdalino, ‘The Empire of the Komnenoi (1118–1204)’, Cambridge History of the Byzantine Empire c.500–1492, ed. J. Shepard (Cambridge, 2008), pp. 629–34; Stathakopoulos, ‘Historiographical Essay’, p. 10; Ostrogorsky, History of the Byzantine State, p. 377. 10 J.  Harris, Byzantium and the Crusades (London, 2007); R-­J.  Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, 1096–1204 (Oxford, 1993), pp. 96–141; Lilie, ‘Twelfth-­century Byzantine and Turkish States’, ed. A. Bryer and M. Ursinus (Amsterdam, 1991), pp. 35–52; P. Stephenson, Byzantium’s Balkan Frontier: A Political Study of the Northern Balkans, 900–1204 (Cambridge, 2000); A. Madgearu, Byzantine Military Organization on the Danube, 10th–12th Centuries (Leiden, 2013); J. Birkenmeier, The Development of the Komnenian Army 1081–1204 (Leiden, 2003), especially pp. 85–99; The Pantokrator Monastery in Constantinople, ed. S.  Kotzabassi (Berlin, 2013). V.  Stanković, Komnini u Carigradu 1057–1185: Evolucija jedne vladarske prodice (Belgrade, 2006); Z.  Zlatar, Golden Byzantium: Imperial Power in Komnenian Constantinople (1081–1180) (Istanbul, 2015); Zlatar, Red and Black Byzantium: Komnenian Emperors and opposition (1081–1180) (Istanbul, 2016). Additionally, see the corresponding thematic chapter sections in the Cambridge History of the Byzantine Empire, especially: P. Stephenson, ‘Balkan Borderlands (1018–1204)’, Cambridge History of the Byzantine Empire c.500–1492, ed. J.  Shepard (Cambridge, 2008), pp. 678–82; D. Korobeinikov, ‘Raiders and Neighbours: The Turks (1040–1304)’, Cambridge History of the Byzantine Empire c.500–1492, ed. J. Shepard (Cambridge, 2008), pp. 710–11,

4  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 being preoccupied with campaigning and with little time for the church—­a view echoed in the Cambridge History of Byzantium, where Magdalino characterizes John as remarkably non-­interventionist, with domestic matters in general being ‘conspicuously uneventful’.11 Stathakopoulos is right, therefore, when he remarks that John’s reign has often been included in studies ‘for reasons of completeness, and quite half-­heartedly’, even if he excuses this as being ‘due to the constraints of the source material’.12 Beyond these general studies, there are a few that focus more directly on John and his era. These include the recently published PhD thesis on John by Papageorgiou as well as the various studies in the Shadow of Father and Son ­volume of essays on John edited by Bucossi and Rodriguez Suarez, which are complemented by the research presented in the recent Piroska and the Pantokrator volume.13 In the Shadow of Father and Son mainly contains studies that attempt, in Stathakopoulos’ words, to paint the shadows of John’s reign as ‘a chiaroscuro place of texture and nuance’, and to a great extent these studies and Papageorgiou’s thesis and the Pantokrator volume succeed in doing much of the foundational work needed for an extended study on John. Papers by Vučetić, Rodriguez Suarez, Jeffreys, Bucossi, and Ousterhout in the Shadow of Father and Son volume con­ text­ual­ize John’s reign within current research on how Byzantine emperors interacted with foreign rulers, and dealt with western intellectual culture, literary trends, the filioque controversy, architecture and patronage, even if the dis­tinct­ ive­ness of John’s reign in this volume remains in its transitional character, as a ‘chiaroscuro’, an interval between better illuminated periods of history.14 John is more prominent in the chapters contributed by Stanković, Magdalino, Linardou, and Papadopoulou. They cover, respectively, John’s life before 1118, his triumph of 1133, the hidden references to John’s brother Isaac, and coinage and monetary policy.15 Finally, Stouraitis and Papageorgiou’s papers in the same volume tackle together with: E. Baraton, La Romanie orientale. L’empire de Constantinople et ses avatars au Levant à l’époque des Croisades (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Rouen-­Normandie, 2018). 11 M. Angold, Church and Society in Byzantium under the Comneni, 1081–1261 (Cambridge, 1995); Magdalino, ‘Empire of the Komnenoi’, p. 634. This tends to be typical of similar general studies, for example M. Angold, The Byzantine Aristocracy IX to XIII Centuries (Oxford, 1984), where most papers tend to cluster around the earlier and later periods and brush over the section in the middle with very few exceptions. A partial exemption can be found in: J. Roskilly, Λογιώτατοι ποίμενες: Les évêques et leur autorité dans la société byzantine des XIe–­XIIe siècles (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Paris I, 2017), which though focused on bishops rather than emperors uses evidence from John’s reign to make general conclusions as to the Komnenian emperors and bishops. 12  Stathakopoulos, ‘Historiographical Essay’, p. 10. 13 A. Papageorgiou, Ο Ιωάννης Βʹ Κομνηνός και η εποχή του (1118–1143) (Athens, 2017), see all: Papageorgiou, ‘Βυζάντιο και Σέρβοι: το ζήτημα των εκστρατειών του Ιωάννη Β´ Κομνηνού εναντίον των Σέρβων’, Εώα και Εσπερία 8 (2008–12), pp. 353–67. 14  John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium: In the Shadow of Father and Son, ed. A. Bucossi and A. Rodriguez Suarez (London, 2016), pp. 71–120, 135–54. 15  Ibid., pp. 11–21, 53–70, 155–200. Linardou’s study is supplemented by: A.  Rodrigues Suarez, ‘The Sebastokrator Isaac Komnenos: Manuel’s Latinophile Uncle?’, Byzantium in Dialogue with the Mediterranean History and Heritage, ed. D. Slootjes and M. Verhoeven (Leiden, 2019), pp. 182–98.

Introduction  5 the big question of re-­evaluating John’s campaigns and political ideology.16 They come to very different conclusions as to whether John acted according to some form of crusader ideology in particular, with the former advocating that John’s ideology operated within the traditional scope of the Roman emperors, whilst Papageorgiou champions John as an emperor who adopted the crusading ideology of the west. A similar range of papers is to be found in the Piroska and the Pantokrator volume. Refreshingly in this publication, John’s wife and empress takes centre stage. Of particular importance is Bárány’s re-­evaluation of the pol­it­ ics surrounding Eirene-­Piroska’s marriage to John. The papers by Sághy, Jeffreys, Franchi, Mielke, Demirtiken, Kiss, Shlyakhtin, and myself focus on what the evidence tells us about her as an empress, and those by Ousterhout, Wolford, and Jeffreys update scholarship on the Pantokrator.17 These studies have already highlighted some new methodological approaches that this investigation will also adopt. In the first place, they confirm that the narrative accounts by Choniates and Kinnamos should be appreciated as carefully wrought pieces of literature with defined rhetorical purposes. They were not written to let readers know what occurred, but they were instead texts that used historical events to make a convincing argument, and should therefore be used with the utmost care. This can be done by reading them in context with the many other written sources that have not hitherto been exploited to their full potential. The most useful, because they are concerned with the people and events of the time, are those non-­Byzantine histories written in neighbouring regions. These exist in a variety of languages, such as Latin, Arabic, Armenian, and Syriac, and though some were written at a similar distance to events as the histories of Kinnamos and Choniates, others were written almost as these events occurred. These texts give us unique insights, above all into a more contemporary, non-­Constantinopolitan, and non-­Emperor-­focused view on events. Of particular relevance are the Chronicle of the so-­called Priest of Diokleia and the history of Michael the Syrian: regional texts that allow us to focus on developments in areas outside Constantinople that Choniates and Kinnamos gloss over in favour of what the emperor was doing, or what occurred in the capital. In addition, there are numerous non-­historical or semi-­historical Byzantine sources: letters (official and private), documents, legal texts, saints’ lives, and, most important of all, contemporary poetry and orations that celebrated the emperor’s achievements. John’s reign can be better understood in the light of these texts: the political pulse of the time is contained within them; they allow us a window into how John, his administration, and his rivals wished 16 I.  Stouraitis, ‘Narratives of John II Komnenos’ Wars: Comparing Byzantine and Modern Approaches’, Shadow of Father and Son, ed. A.  Bucossi and A.  Rodriguez Suarez, pp. 22–36; A. Papageorgiou, ‘The Political Ideology of John II Komnenos’, pp. 37–52, in ibid. 17  M. Sághy and R. Ousterhout (eds.), Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople (Budapest, 2019), pp. 11–38, 63–96, 97–120, 121–42, 143–52, 153–73, 175–94, 195–224, 225–60, 261–90, 291–304, respectively.

6  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 events to be portrayed. These texts are a portal into the type of world in which these authors lived and the one they sought to construct, and, equally, the means to understand better why their authors represented their worlds in specific ways. Beyond the written word, not much use has been made of the growing volume of material evidence. This category of evidence allows us to read texts in entirely new ways, especially in the case of the archaeological remains of the many fortifications John built. Far from there being few extant sources, there is in fact a plethora of evidence that survives testifying to John’s reign: however, it must be identified and a means found to piece it together, and thus evidence is the focus of the first chapter of this volume. Following the opening chapter, attention turns to the events of John’s life. It may seem surprising to say so, but the chronology of John’s reign is far from secure. Byzantinists have been inclined to adopt a thematic approach within the framework of the more general studies mentioned above. This approach does not take account of the evolving priorities of John and his contemporaries from year to year, and at times even from one day to the next, as circumstances developed, and goals shifted. Choniates and Kinnamos also give a deceptive impression that John dealt with the various challenges facing him sequentially, and that he dealt with them according to some form of grand plan. On closer inspection, it becomes clear that his choices, and the events themselves, can be better understood once it is acknowledged that the emperor had to balance multiple demands at once, often facing various challenges in the same year, and therefore having to change his priorities accordingly. The significance of a number of key events changes radically once they are seen in a context which is sensitive to chronology. The fundamental principle governing the arrangement of the majority of the material in this book is therefore chronology. The aim is to watch policy as it evolved in time, in carefully documented changing circumstances. At first sight, such an approach may appear dated compared to modern scholarship, more in keeping with the work of J.  B.  Bury, Steven Runciman, or latterly John Julius Norwich.18 However, it is only when the two Byzantine histories (by Kinnamos and Choniates) are supplemented with previously unused textual and non-­textual evidence, and when developments are placed in their specific historical contexts, that a full understanding of the pressures upon John and his empire, and the emperor’s responses to those pressures, can be obtained, and more probing historical analysis can be undertaken.

18  I take them as examples of hugely popular but traditionalist authors and scholars, whom I recall as an undergraduate being told that if I truly wanted to be inspired by the medieval world I should read and enjoy, but whom I should never cite in a serious academic essay or in works such as this book. From Bury in particular I also take my cue that I am not a ‘Byzantinist’ but a medieval Roman historian: J.  B.  Bury, A History of the Later Roman Empire from Arcadius to Irene, 2 vols (London, 1889); S. Runciman, A History of the Crusades, 3 vols (Cambridge, 1951–54); J. J. Norwich, Byzantium: The Decline and Fall (London, 1995).

Introduction  7 Chapter Two therefore covers the first thirty years of John’s life before the death of his father and his succession. This is a stage of John’s life which has rarely been examined before, but during which we can see the policies and personnel of John’s government taking shape. This chapter will, therefore, also include an overview of twelfth-­century imperial government. Moving on from domestic affairs, Chapter Three examines the world as it appeared to John from Constantinople, providing a tour of the recent history of the emperor’s geographical and political neighbours near and far. This is followed by a consideration of the key military and diplomatic events in Alexios’ last years, and of the ways in which John sought to complete his father’s plans in both the Balkans and Anatolia. Chapter Four focuses on the emperor’s response to the nomad invasion of 1122–3, perhaps his greatest victory, and then the disposition of his Danubian lands thereafter. Chapter Five covers the years 1123–6, which focus on the potential gains and pitfalls of client management in this period. At this time, John involved himself in the affairs of Turks, Serbs, and Hungarians while battling the Venetians over trading privileges. He ended up overextending his resources, and was forced temporarily to abandon some of his initiatives in order to salvage his position. John’s decision to focus on the Balkans led to war with Hungary as well as with the Serb prince of Raška; this 1127–9 conflict is covered in Chapter Six. John’s victory there settled the Balkans, such that he could return to Anatolia in the 1130s. Anatolia is therefore the focus of Chapter Seven, although John’s engagement in this region was as much driven by his brother Isaac’s attempted coup as any vision of reconquest. Both old and new dynamics were, however, at play with regards John’s greatest campaign during the years 1136–9, when he conquered Cilicia and brought his battle-­hardened army to the Levant and Syria. His successes and failures in this region resulted in an even more intense set of campaigns from 1140–3, which took John from the rugged mountains of northern Anatolia to the lakes of the central plateau and then back to the Levant, before his sudden death left his designs stillborn. Despite this sudden end to John’s life, the two final chapters of this investigation look deeper into what the emperor was able to achieve, and the scope of his plans for both his empire and his church. Chapter Ten examines John’s fortification building programme and how that led to the re-­establishment of secure Byzantine provinces in Anatolia in particular. Coupled with this, it takes a closer look at John’s army and its successes. Chapter Eleven finally turns to ecclesiastical history, highlighting that for all of John’s campaigning he also poured resources into philanthropic, legal and ecumenical initiatives that attest to both his personal piety and hint at further objectives had he lived out his last years in Constantinople. These last two chapters draw on material from John’s entire reign, and they point ahead to the conclusion of the book, where this previously overshadowed emperor can at last be brought into the light. Across the book as a whole, we come to appreciate how John rebuilt New Rome on the battlefield, in the landscape, and in the capital city. He did this through

8  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 campaigning and the construction of a network of fortifications and monasteries; with these achievements he left his mark on the ideology of crusading, the icon­ og­raphy of imperial coinage, and in the positive judgement he received from both his own court and many outside his realm. We can also acknowledge that his ambitions stretched yet further, even if imperfectly accomplished: the encirclement of the Anatolian plateau and further territorial gains in the west, and the advancement of ecumenical relations and legal reform bold initiatives that were first delayed by his missteps, and which were then left incomplete at his early death. His reign was therefore just as dynamic as any of his contemporaries, and it is only as memories faded, and New Rome with it, that his legacy became obscured.

One

Sources Problems and Opportunities

‘We are not served well by Byzantine historians on John.’1 This judgement is true of both medieval and modern Byzantine historians, and yet it is overly pessimistic. By including evidence that is not Byzantine, not by historians, and even that which is ostensibly not concerned with John, we can discover that this period is far richer than the ‘half-­hearted’ presentation it often receives. The lack of a major unifying source on John, such as Anna’s Alexiad for Alexios, or Choniates and Kinnamos’ accounts for Manuel, actually permits us to see the wood through the trees more easily. When flaws or falsehoods emerge, other sources can act as crucial controls: the viability of the historical accounts can be tested by reading them alongside texts written by authors who were not his­tor­ ians, accounts from outside the Byzantine sphere, and non-­textual evidence bases. This chapter will therefore introduce and re-­evaluate the sources on John’s reign, beginning with the problems and opportunities in the Greek histories, before turning to the controls we have on them.

Working through Choniates and Kinnamos These histories are far from neutral accounts conveniently passing on to us what occurred. Rather, they were written to convey their authors’ views to readers, as works of literature in their own right rather than historical records.2 However, once the authors’ agendas are acknowledged along with the literary nature of the texts themselves, these histories can still be very useful in assessing John’s reign, especially when read together with other sources. Although there are a few short chronicles that give yearly notes on John’s reign, for those who want to investigate the twelfth century in more detail, the first stop has to be the seemingly comprehensive History of Niketas Choniates, whose last name derives from Chonai, the town of his birth in Anatolia (though he may also

1  Stathakopoulos, ‘Historiographical Essay’, p. 1. 2  Cf. M. Lau, ‘Rewriting the 1120s: Chronology and Crisis under John II Komnenos’, Making and Remaking Byzantium, Limes Plus Journal of Social Sciences and Humanities (Belgrade, 2016), pp. 87–91.

Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143. Maximilian C. G. Lau, Oxford University Press. © Maximilian C. G. Lau 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198888673.003.0002

10  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 have borne the family name of Akominatos).3 Choniates served as a tax official from around 1180, and though he resigned as an imperial secretary under Emperor Andronikos I Komnenos (r.1183–5), he returned under Isaac II Angelos (r.1185–95) rising through several positions before becoming logothetes ton sekreton, among the highest bureaucratic positions, as we shall see in the next chapter.4 His twenty-­one book history of the empire from 1118 to 1206 was written in three drafts: the first under Alexios III Angelos (r.1195–1203), the second shortly afterwards and then final edits were carried out around a decade later, when he joined other Constantinopolitan exiles in Nicaea after the fall of the capital to the forces of the Fourth Crusade.5 There are drawbacks to his account of John’s reign: first, that only one book of the total twenty-­one deals specifically with John, and second, that each draft of Choniates’ History was composed in an ever-­diminishing empire, with the final one written from exile, with Choniates’ life as a formerly rich and prestigious civil servant now in ruins.6 Thus, his writings increasingly had to explain how both his own life and the empire had come to such dire straits. John’s reign therefore appears in his work as a distant golden age from which every­thing declined. Choniates is consequently fairly free with his chronology and descriptions in order to present John in the best possible light.7 The third 3  The name Akominatos derives from the manuscript tradition, for discussion of this possibility, see: J. L. van Dieten, Niketas Choniates: Erläuterungen zu den Reden und Briefen nebst einer Biographie (Berlin, 1971, repr 2012), pp. 4–8. 4  A.  Kazhdan and S.  Franklin, ‘Nicetas Choniates and Others: Aspects of the Art of Literature’, Studies on Byzantine Literature of the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries, ed. iidem (Cambridge, 1984), pp. 256–7. 5  NC, pp. VII-­CV; A. Kazhdan, ‘Der Körper im Geschichtswerk des Niketas Choniates’, Fest und Alltag in Byzanz, ed. G. Prinzing and D. Simon (Munich 1990), pp. 91–105; A. Simpson, ‘Introduction’, Niketas Choniates A Historian and Writer, ed. A. Simpson, and S. Efthymiadis (Geneva, 2009), p. 16; R.  Maisano, ‘Varianti d’autore in Niceta Coniata?’, Problemi di ecdotica e esegesi di testi bizantini e grecomedievali, ed. R.  Romano (Naples, 1994), pp. 63–80; A.  Simpson, ‘Before and After 1204: The Versions of Niketas Choniates’ Historia’, DOP 60 (2006), pp. 189–221; J.  Niehoff-­ Panagiotidis, ‘Narrative Bewältigungsstrategien von Katastrophenerfahrungen: Das Geschichswerk des Nikitas Choniatis’, Klio 92/1 (2010), pp. 170–210; A.  Simpson, Niketas Choniates: a historiographical study (Oxford, 2014), p. 2, 68–77; Simpson, ‘Niketas Choniates’, Franks and Crusades in Medieval Eastern Christian Historiography, ed. A. Mallett (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 93–124. 6  A. Kaldellis, ‘Paradox, Reversal and the Meaning of History’, Niketas Choniates A Historian and Writer, ed. A.  Simpson and S.  Efthymiadis (Geneva, 2009), pp. 75–99; Efthymiadis, ‘Introduction’, Niketas Choniates A Historian and Writer, p. 45; Kazhdan et al, NC, XLI–­XLII; L. Neville, Heroes and Romans in Twelfth-­Century Byzantium: The Material for History of Nikephoros Bryennios (Cambridge, 2012), p. 22; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 11–14; B. Garcia, ‘Politics, History and Rhetoric: On the Structure of the First Book of Niketas Choniates’ History’, Byzantinoslavica 56 (1995), pp. 423–8; Simpson, ‘Before and After 1204’, pp. 189–221; Simpson, Niketas Choniates, pp. 2–3, 68–77; L. Neville, Guide to Byzantine Historical Writing (Cambridge, 2018), p. 220. Urbainczyk disagrees with the view that Choniates presents John as the perfect emperor, noting how Choniates goes out of his way to cast suspicion on John’s succession in particular, cf. Chapter Two. Urbainczyk, Writing about Byzantium: Niketas Choniates, pp. 122, 130, 315. Stouraitis’ focus is on John’s wars, remarking that Choniates’ judgement was not based merely on the success of his territorial conquests, but on his ‘ability to maintain the internal coherence of the imperial system’. Stouraitis, ‘Narratives of John II Komnenos’ Wars’, esp. p. 31. 7  This appears in deliberate contrast to his respect for chronology in the rest of his work, which he stresses in what may be a deliberate criticism of Kinnamos, see below and: Simpson, Niketas Choniates, pp. 135–6.

Sources: Problems and Opportunities  11 disadvantage is that the passage of forty to sixty years between the events and the time of writing limited the sources available to Choniates and their value is sometimes questionable. It is hard to believe his claim that he interviewed soldiers who had campaigned with John, although, given the full accounts of some of the later campaigns, we should not entirely discount use of military sources of some sort.8 Otherwise, his text is reminiscent of the so-­called ‘rhetorical’ court sources, which is both a strength and a weakness, as will be discussed below.9 Finally, there is what may be termed a twist, which results from the literary character of Choniates’ history. The large number of surviving manuscripts (43) suggests that it was a popular work. This may mean that rather than being viewed as simply a work of history full of errors and one-­sided portrayals, it can also be seen as a meticulously researched and vibrant politico-­historical novel set at John’s court, written by someone from the next generation.10 Choniates’ purpose, like Tolstoy’s in War and Peace, may have been to provide insights into the functioning of society and the state from the perspective of a man who lived half a century on. Certainly, as has been argued recently, Choniates’ writings can be shown to cast fresh light on the court and the wider world of Byzantium in the second quarter of the twelfth century, especially when they are used in conjunction with other works.11 Before the literary turn in historical source criticism, the conventional response when faced by the shortcomings of Choniates as a historian would have been to compare his History with John Kinnamos’ Epitome, in the hope of obtaining some form of historical truth. Although care is needed in undertaking such comparisons, there is something to this approach. For Kinnamos’ portrayal of John is often at odds with that of Choniates: where Choniates’ portrayal of John is often overly flattering, Kinnamos’ narrative can veer into open criticism. 8  NC, p. 4; Simpson, Niketas Choniates, p. 139; W.  Treadgold, The Middle Byzantine Historians (London, 2013), pp. 412–13. 9 Simpson, Niketas Choniates, pp. 131–5, 223; Maisano, ‘Tipologia delle fonti di Niceta Coniata’, pp. 394–5. 10 On surviving manuscripts see: Simpson, ‘Before and After 1204’, pp. 189–221. Maisano, ‘Varianti d’autore in Niceta Coniata?’, pp. 63–80; Niehoff-­Panagiotidis, ‘Narrative Bewältigungsstrategien’, pp. 170–210. On the ‘shortcomings’ of Choniates as a historian, see: C. Brand, Byzantium Confronts the West, 1180–1204 (Cambridge MA, 1968), p. 113; H. Hunger, Die hochsprachliche profane Literatur der Byzantiner I (Munich, 1978), p. 437; Magdalino, Manuel, pp. 1–26; Magdalino, ‘Prophecy and Divination in the History’, Niketas Choniates: A Historian and a writer, ed. A.  Simpson, and S.  Efthymiadis (Geneva, 2009), pp. 59–74. On its value as literature, see: Kazhdan and Franklin, ‘Nicetas Choniates and Others’, pp. 256–86. 11  R-­J. Lilie, ‘Reality and Invention: Reflections on Byzantine Historiography’, DOP 68 (2012), pp. 157–210, see particularly pp. 159–60, ns.9, 10 and 11; W. Treadgold, ‘The Unwritten Rules for Writing Byzantine History’, Proceedings of the 23rd International Congress of Byzantine Studies Belgrade, 22–27 August 2016 Plenary Papers (Belgrade, 2016), pp. 277–92; A. Kaldellis, ‘The Manufacture of History in the Later Tenth and Eleventh Centuries: Rhetorical Templates and Narrative Ontologies’, Proceedings of the 23rd International Congress of Byzantine Studies Belgrade, 22–27 August 2016 Plenary Papers (Belgrade, 2016), pp. 293–306, particularly n. 2. Also see: R. Macrides (ed.), History as Literature in Byzantium (Farnham, 2010). Vilimonović makes the same argument in her recent study on the Alexiad, also drawing on Lilie. Further discussion below, L. Vilimonović, Notes, Structures and Features of Anna Komnene’s Alexiad: Emergence of a Personal History (Amsterdam, 2019), esp. pp. 27–9.

12  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 John Kinnamos, born c.1143, was an imperial secretary who accompanied Emperor Manuel I on campaign.12 His Epitome covers the years 1118–76 and is a biography of Manuel, with John’s reign forming a prelude. As such, it suffers from the same basic problem as Choniates’ history. John’s reign is again presented in summary form, but, in contrast to Choniates’ account, the tone is often critical, as the true hero is Manuel who always surpasses his father.13 Incidentally, there is every possibility that Choniates had read Kinnamos’ work, and produced his positive portrayal of John as a deliberate reaction against it.14 Although Kinnamos, writing nearer the time, could certainly have spoken to more people who were participants or eyewitnesses, he like Choniates appears to have used panegyrical material from John’s court, with both works evoking such literature in distinct sections of their texts, especially in descriptions of John’s military triumphs.15 This suggests that one way of slipping the shackles imposed by both these his­tor­ ians may be to read them alongside court rhetorical sources and documentary evidence. Some mentions of John’s early life are also to be found in the works of the his­ tor­ians of John’s father, Alexios: Anna Komnene and John Zonaras. Both were in prime positions to witness the events of 1118 at the end of Alexios’ reign, with Zonaras serving as protasekretis (a combined legal-­chancery role, as discussed in the next chapter) while Anna tells us she served food to her dying father around this time.16 Zonaras retired some time after the death of Alexios, becoming a 12  JK, pp. 4–5; C. Hobbs, ‘John II Kinnamos’, Franks and Crusades in Medieval Eastern Christian Historiography, ed. A. Mallett (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 65–7. 13  JK, p. 1. C.  Neumann, Griechische Geschichtsschreiber und Geschichtsquellen im zwölften Jahrhundert: Studien zu Anna Comnena, Theod. Prodromus, Joh. Cinnamus (Leipzig, 1888), pp. 79–80, 100–1; P.  Stephenson, ‘John Cinnamus, John II Comnenus, and the Hungarian Campaign of 1127–1129’, Byzantion 66 (1996), pp. 177–87; Neville, Historical Writing, p. 186; Hobbs, ‘John Kinnamos’, pp. 12–13. Treadgold, Middle Byzantine Historians, pp. 410–11, 279–80. Though it has been suggested the text could have been abridged, Hobbs notes that Kinnamos specifically tells us he is relating John’s reign ‘ἐν κεφαλίῳ’, in summary, as the writer was not knowledgeable about the reign as a good historian should be, therefore it seems likely that the text we have is the complete text. 14  Stathakopoulos is keen to point out that Kinnamos’ portrayal of John as ‘sometimes prone to anger’ and ‘pious’ are, nevertheless, ‘trivial facts’ in comparison to Anna Komnene’s fuller char­ac­ter­ iza­tions in her Alexiad. Stathakopoulos, ‘Historiographical Essay’, p. 2; Treadgold, Middle Byzantine Historians, pp. 237–8, 412–13; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 13–14; Hobbs, ‘John Kinnamos’, p. 6. 15  On campaign rhetoric, see: M.  Lau, ‘The Power of Poetry: Portraying the Expansion of the Empire under John II Komnenos’, Landscapes of Power—­Selected Papers from the XV Oxford University Byzantine Society International Graduate Conference, ed. M. Lau, C. Franchi, and M. Di Rodi (Oxford, 2014), pp. 195–214; Lau, ‘Rewriting History at the Court of the Komnenoi: Processes and Practices’, Rewriting History in the Central Middle Ages, 900–1300, ed. E.  Winkler and C.  Lewis (Turnhout, 2022), pp. 121–47. Simpson’s textual and historiographical summary on whether Choniates had read Kinnamos can be found at: Simpson, Niketas Choniates, p. 215, n. 4 in particular, in addition to pp. 215–18 for the reign of John in particular, and pp. 220–3 on later reigns; supported in Stathakopoulos, ‘Historiographical Essay’, p. 2. On the triumphs, see: Prodromos, III, V, and VI; JK, pp. 13–14; NC, pp. 18–19. For full discussion of the triumph, see: Lau, ‘Power of Poetry’, and P.  Magdalino, ‘The Triumph of 1133’, John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium: In the Shadow of Father and Son, ed. A. Bucossi and A. Rodriguez Suarez (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 53–70. 16  Zonaras was a judge and held the positions of Droungarios tes Viglas and Protoasekretis under Alexios, ODB, p. 2229; R.  Macrides and P.  Magdalino, ‘The Fourth Kingdom and the Rhetoric of

Sources: Problems and Opportunities  13 monk in the monastery of St Glykeria where he wrote his Epitome Historion, cover­ing the entirety of history, from creation until 1118.17 Although it has been suggested that he may have opposed John’s accession, and that his resignation or dismissal was the direct result of John’s success in assuming full imperial power, Zonaras himself tells us that he became a monk after his wife died, and in his account he has Alexios clearly name John as the purple-­born Autokrator, rather than Anna’s possibly more ambiguous ‘successor’.18 He provides independent evidence about Alexios’ last years, though he does not discuss John’s relationship with his sister Anna. John is barely mentioned in the Alexiad, and never by name. A few passages are usually (but not always) viewed as indicating deep antagonism. In particular, Anna’s description of her father’s deeds has been taken to be veiled criticism of John and Manuel’s policies.19 Anna’s hostility is viewed as deriving from her supposed involvement in unsuccessful coups against her brother in 1118 and 1119, and the bitterness she is alleged to have harboured for many years.20 Hellenism’, The Perceptions of the Past in the Twelfth-­Century Europe, ed. P. Magdalino (London, 1992), p. 127; R. Macrides, ‘Nomos and Kanon, on Paper and in Court’, Church and People in Byzantium, ed. R. Morris (Birmingham, 1986), pp. 72–3; Neville, Historical Writing, p. 192; AK, 15.11, pp. 494–5. On the varying opinions of Anna’s sources, see: K. Sinclair, ‘Anna Komnene and Her Sources for Military Affairs in the Alexiad’, Estudios bizantinos 2 (2014), pp. 179–83; P.  Frankopan, ‘Aristocratic Family Narratives in Twelfth-­ century Byzantium’, Reading in the Byzantine Empire and Beyond, ed. T. Shawcross and I. Toth (Cambridge, 2018), pp. 317–35. 17  C. Mango, ‘Twelfth-­Century Notices from cod. Christ Church Gr. 53’, JÖB 42 (1992), pp. 221–8; see: Treadgold, Middle Byzantine Historians, pp. 388–99. On the date of the text, a terminus ante quem of 1150 is suggested based on the Alexiad being written by Anna in response to Zonaras’ work, while a terminus post quem has also been suggested by Macrides based on a scholion to canon 7 of the council of Neakaisareia regarding an emperor’s second marriage, implying he wrote after Manuel was remarried in 1161. This is in addition to several phrases implying that Alexios’ policies were still in place after ‘succeeding generations’ which also suggests a later date. See: RP III, p. 80; Zonaras, 18.22, p. 741; R. Macrides, ‘The Pen and the Sword: Who Wrote the Alexiad?’, Anna Komnene and Her Times, ed. T. Gouma-­Petersen (New York, 2000), p. 73; Neville, Historical Writing, pp. 193–4; N. Matheou, ‘City and Sovereignty in East Roman Thought, c.1000–1200. Ioannes Zonaras’ Historical Vision for the Roman State’, The City and the Cities, ed. N. Matheou, L. Bondioli and T. Kampianaki (Leiden, 2016), p. 42, n. 4; Vilimonović, Structures and Features, pp. 63–8. 18  K. Ziegler, ‘Zonaras’, Paulys Realencylopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft X A.1 (1972), cols 720–1; Mango, ‘Twelfth-­Century Notices’, pp. 221–2 and 226–7; T.  Banchich and E.  Lane, The History of Zonaras: From Alexander Severus to the Death of Theodosius the Great (Oxford, 2009), pp. 3–7. Neville, Historical Writing, p. 193; A. Karpozilos, Vyzantinoi historikoi kai chronographoi III (Athens, 1997), p. 467; Treadgold, Middle Byzantine Historians, pp. 389–92. On the successor issue: ‘ὁ τῆς βασιλείας διάδοχος’, AK, 15.11, pp. 497–8; Vilimonović, Structures and Features, p. 317. Further discussion in Chapter Three. 19  P. Magdalino, ‘The Pen of the Aunt: Echoes of the Mid-­Twelfth Century in the Alexiad’, Anna Komnene and Her Times, ed. T.  Gouma-­Petersen (New York, 2000), pp. 15–44; contra: Treadgold, Middle Byzantine Historians, pp. 384–5. See also: J.  Shepard, ‘Anna Komnene as a Source for the Crusades’, Franks and Crusades in Medieval Eastern Christian Historiography, ed. A. Mallett (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 25–64. The first comment on this relationship was likely Chalandon, Jean II, p. 4; but this opinion has been echoed since. See: L.  Neville, Anna Komnene: The Life and Work of a Medieval Historian (Oxford, 2016), p. 141, n. 1. 20  For the recent argument that Anna’s hatred has been overstated, see: Neville, Anna Komnene, esp. pp. 101, 114, 153–74. Contra: G.  Buckler, Anna Comnena: A Study (London, 1929), p. 249; C.  Diehl, Byzantine Empresses (New York, 1963), p. 185; M.  Hatzaki, ‘The Good, the Bad, and the

14  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Contemporary Court Sources The first, and highly significant, supplementary texts are works of rhetorical character, written primarily in or for the court, in verse and prose. As occasional pieces, produced for immediate consumption, they are useful controls on the histories written long afterwards, but they are undoubtedly tendentious, their aim being to celebrate the emperor and his regime. They are also inclined to suppress or downplay unpleasant truths, and to magnify any successes. However, they convey the messages that the authorities wished to broadcast at the time, initially to the court, and through the court to the wider world. They act then as time capsules, transmitting political messages that allow us to take the political pulse of the regime and, thus, assess what John and his government were attempting to accomplish. The overt bias is therefore profoundly useful in assessing these contemporary messages, as well as filling in various gaps in the accounts of Choniates and Kinnamos.21 Their role was not that played by modern press releases, but they were more akin to comment pieces in newspapers and magazines. They embroidered official reports, rendering them into ornate, erudite verse and prose, thick with clas­ sic­al, biblical, and historical similes, with messages and forms tailored to specific audiences.22 But beneath the surface and behind the overt thrust of these writings, there may be detected material derived from contemporary official documents, referring to specific events and policies, providing us with contemporary information we could not otherwise obtain.23 The most useful documents would have been dispatches sent by the emperor from the field, and the court circulars issued to officialdom, though unfortunately none of these survives. Both had vital pol­it­ical functions, sustaining the emperor’s authority at home, and reassuring those far from the battlefield that all was well.

Ugly’, A Companion to Byzantium, ed. L. James (Malden, 2010), p. 97; V. Stanković, ‘Lest We Forget: History Writing in Byzantium of the Komnenoi and the Use of Memories’, Memory and Oblivion in Byzantium, ed. A.  Milanova and V.  Vatchkova (Sofia, 2011), p. 65; W.  Treadgold, ‘Review of Leonora Neville, Anna Komnene, The Life and Work of a Medieval Historian’, Medioevo Greco 17 (2017), pp. 516–17; Shepard, ‘Anna Komnena as a Source for the Crusades’, esp. pp. 8–11; Stanković, Komnini u Carigradu, pp. 198–223; Vilimonović, Structure and Features, passim, esp. pp. 79, 101, 118–194, 266, 325–8, 340–2; Carr, Komnene Dynasty, p. 5. 21  Stathakopoulos, ‘Historiographical Essay’, p. 4. 22  See Chapter Seven, and Lau, ‘Power of Poetry’, pp. 195–214; Lau, ‘Rewriting History at the Court of the Komnenoi’, pp. 121–47. 23  W.  Hörandner, ‘Zur kommunikativen Funktion byzantinischer Gedichte’, XVIII Mezdunarodnyj ̌ kongress vizantinistov. Plenarnye doklady, ed. I.  Ševcenko and G.  Litavrin (Moscow, 1991), pp. 94–7; A. Kazhdan and S. Franklin, ‘Theodore Prodromos: A Reappraisal’, Studies on Byzantine Literature of the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Cambridge, 1984), p. 106. See also: M. Mullett, ‘Did Byzantium Have a Court Literature?’, The Byzantine Court: Source of Power and Culture, ed. A. Odekan, N. Necipoğlou, and E. Akyurek (Istanbul, 2013), pp. 173–82; M. Lau, ‘Power of Poetry’, pp. 195–214; N. Zagklas, ‘ “How Many Verses Shall I Write and Say?”: Poetry in the Komnenian Period (1081–1204)’, A Companion to Byzantine Poetry, ed. W. Hörandner, A. Rhoby and N. Zagklas (Leiden, 2019), pp. 237–63.

Sources: Problems and Opportunities  15 Regarding the latter, the Alexiad relates one specific example of Alexios sending messages from the battlefield, while personal letters from our principal rhetors to officials on campaign remark on the process of receiving dispatches and converting them into poetry.24 Michael Italikos tells us that he was ‘publishing’ or ‘broadcasting’ [δημοσιεύων] the emperor’s struggles, both to report on the emperor’s deeds and to fire up support for the regime.25 Theodore Prodromos remarks that many were working on poems but he had finished his first, implying that speed of propagation was also important.26 Nikephoros Basilakes and Italikos contend that by celebrating John’s deeds in grand style they make those achievements even greater.27 It is equally noteworthy that three long rhetorical works for John’s great eastern expedition to Cilicia and Syria by three different authors all survive, demonstrating how John maintained connections and support in the capital, despite being away for so long. Indeed, the effects of John’s deeds outside the capital appear to have mattered first and foremost in how these deeds would be received in the political theatre of Constantinople.28 Beyond the capital, there is also clear evidence that these texts helped disseminate news and views in the provinces. The letter networks of Prodromos and Italikos attest that literati lived in other major cities, such as Trebizond and Philippopolis (though these literati often complain that they missed the intellectual life of the capital), and one particular letter maintains that Prodromos’ poems were read in Philippopolis at least.29 Correspondingly, there is a speech by Eustathios of Thessalonike in 1191 that was delivered to the Emperor Isaac II Angelos at Philippopolis, where he mentions that after returning to his see he will announce the victory to the people

24  AK 14.6, p. 449. In the ninth century there was also the rebellious general Thomas the Slav who sent letters around Anatolia to tell of his victories, see: John Skylitzes, Ioannis Scylitzae Synopsis Historiarum, ed. H. Thurn (Berlin, 1973), p. 36. 25  Italikos 40 and 42, pp. 232 and 257, respectively; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 313–14. 26  Prodromos, ‘Τοῦ αὐτοῦ τῷ λογοθέτῃ’ (Letter 15), tr. M. Op de Coul, Théodore Prodrome Lettres et Discours: Édition, Traduction, Commentaire (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Paris IV, 2007), pp. 125–6; Prodromos, XIX, lines 1–10. 27 Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 54, lines 19–22; Italikos 40, p. 232. 28  Cf. Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 419–34; Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos; Lau, ‘Power of Poetry’, pp. 195–214, and Lau, ‘Ioannoupolis: Lopadion as “City” and Military Headquarters under Emperor Ioannes II Komnenos’, From Constantinople to the Frontier: The City and the Cities ed. N.S.M. Matheou, T. Kampianaki and L.M. Bondioli (Leiden, 2016), pp. 435–64. 29 See Prodromos, LXXIX for Prodromos’ verses where he considers leaving the capital and joining his teacher Stephen Skylitzes there if he cannot find work soon. Prodromos also writes a letter to his teacher expressing the same sentiment: Theodore Prodromos, ‘Τῷ μητροπολίτῃ Τραπεζοῦντος’ (Letter 5), tr. Op de Coul, Théodore Prodrome Lettres et Discours, pp. 94–100; commentary: pp. 302–7. The letter where Italikos mentions he heard the poems: Italikos 1, p. 64. Cf. S. Papaioannou, ‘Language Games, Not the Soul’s Beliefs: Michael Italikos to Theodoros Prodromos, on Friendship and Writing’, Byzantinische Sprachkunst. Studien zur byzantinischen Literatur gewidmet Wolfram Hörandner zum 65. Geburtstag (byzantinisches Archiv 20), ed. M. Hinterberger and E. Schiffer (Munich, 2007), pp. 223−224; W.  Hörandner, ‘Zur kommunikativen Funktion byzantinischer Gedichte’, pp. 104–18. Zagklas, Prodromos, p. 59.

16  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 of Thessalonike too.30 As such, it appears likely that either Constantinopolitan orations and poems were distributed to the provinces too, or local rhetors conveyed their own versions of the news from public or private communiqués. Such correspondence highlights the fact that beyond the texts specifically addressed to the emperor, the court, and the people of Constantinople, we have more personal poems, letters, and even some satires, novels, commentaries, epigrams, and prayers to draw from as well. The intended audiences of such texts include those attending theatra: literary salons or other performance venues such as churches or palaces at which rhetors performed. These were often patronized by aristocrats, such as John’s mother Eirene, his sister Anna and her husband Nikephoros Bryennios.31 This setting would have included not only courtiers but also lower ranked civil and ecclesiastical officials and scholars. Some of these texts (schedoi) would also have been used in a teaching setting.32 Therefore, though many of these poems and letters have an identifiable recipient, texts were written as literary exercises as well. To introduce the rhetors and their works, the exemplar par excellence is Theodore Prodromos, whom recent scholarship has acclaimed the ‘poet laureate’ of his day, though it must be acknowledged that he declared this role for himself as well as having it ascribed to him by others.33 His life is only known through his work, where we can track how he began writing in the service of John’s mother, Eirene, in the 1120s before being taken on by John’s regime in the 1130s, having a lean period in the 1140s when he considered moving to Trebizond, before writing again for Manuel. During this period he was prodigious, he produced more than 17,000 verses in multiple genres, from satire to classical commentary.34 Of particular relevance besides his learning was that he was not a cleric, and so supported himself by teaching when he had no commissions, though he is also known for a number of so-­called ‘begging poems’.35 30  Eustathios of Thessalonike, Opuscula, ed. T. Tafel (Frankfurt-­am-­Main, 1832, repr. Amsterdam, 1964), p. 45; Roskilly, Les évêques et leur autorité, p. 370. 31  On their particular literary activities, see: Chapters Two and Three. On theatra in general, see: M.  Mullett, ‘Aristocracy and Patronage in the Literary Circles of Comnenian Constantinople’, The Byzantine Aristocracy from IX to XIII Centuries, ed. M. Angold (Oxford, 1984), pp. 173–201. 32  See Zagklas, Prodromos, pp. 73–87. 33 M.  Lauxtermann, ‘The Velocity of Pure Iambs: Byzantine Observations on the Metre and Rhythm of the Dodecasyllable’, JÖB 48 (1998), p. 13. For the most detailed recent analysis and full historiography of Prodromos’ work, see: N. Zagklas, Theodore Prodromos: The Neglected Poems and Epigrams (Edition, Commentary and Translation) (unpublished doctoral thesis, Vienna, 2014), pp. 52–7. For his personal declaration of office, see: M. Bazzani, ‘The Historical Poems of Theodore Prodromos, the Epic-­ Homeric Revival and the Crisis of Intellectuals in the Twelfth Century’, Byzantinoslavica 65 (2007), pp. 214–18. 34 Zagklas, Prodromos, p. 52, 58–72, esp. p. 63 for the three stages of Prodromos’ life, based upon the work of Hörandner, whose study is still the primary edition for Prodromos’ poetry, see: Prodromos, pp. 21–35, and also Bazzani, ‘Historical Poems of Prodromos’, pp. 211–14; E. Jeffreys, Four Byzantine Novels (Liverpool, 2012), pp. 3–7. 35  Ibid. H.  Eideneier, Ptochoprodromos (Cologne, 1991), I–­IV; R.  Bouchet, Satires et parodies du Moyen Âge grec (Paris, 2012), pp. 3–47. See in particular: Zagklas, Prodromos, pp. 66–7; Bazzani, ‘Historical Poems of Prodromos’, p. 225; P.  Agapitos, ‘New Genres in the Twelfth Century: The Schedourgia of Theodore Prodromos’, Medioevo Greco 15 (2015), pp. 1–41.

Sources: Problems and Opportunities  17 These ostensibly asked for money and patronage, but are in fact part of a genre which satirizes the ideas that a person of his sort would have to beg for money.36 Overall, Prodromos’ court writings are most useful for reconstructing John’s reign regarding the events of the 1130s and 1140s when he often wrote multiple works for each campaign, specifically the poems numbered I to XXIX, and these poems are themselves supported by a handful of letters, especially those to his friend Michael Italikos. This brings us to Italikos himself, and his clerical colleague Nikephoros Basilakes, both of whom served the emperor alongside their ecclesiastical careers. Italikos’ life can be accurately tracked through his letters in particular, as though he too began his career in the theatron, and therefore household, of the Empress Eirene (as one of Prodromos’ teachers), he also served as John’s envoy to Rome in either 1126 or 1137.37 Though we do not know exactly what this embassy concerned—­it was perhaps part of the extensive theological debates that took place across this period between Rome and Constantinople—­one of Italikos’ many promotions can likely be attributed to success on this mission. In 1130, he was named didaskalos (literally: teacher, though closer to a professor) of the doctors—­a secular appointment—­before being promoted at some point to the ecclesiastical didaskalos of the Psalms, from which he was further promoted to didaskalos of the Epistles in c.1136.38 Perhaps due to appeals for promotion in other letters, he was named didaskalos of the Gospels by Patriarch Leo Stypes in 1142, before being made Bishop of Philippopolis, where he was given the specific task of stamping out heresy around the time of John’s death in 1143.39 He remained a servant of Emperor Manuel after this, as he was involved in negotiations with the

36 M.  Alexiou, ‘The Poverty of Écriture and the Craft of Writing: Towards a Reappraisal of the Prodromic Poems’, BMGS 10 (1986), pp. 1–40; R.  Beaton, ‘The Rhetoric of Poverty: The Lives and Opinions of Theodore Prodromos’, BMGS 11 (1987), pp. 1–28; Kazhdan and Franklin, ‘Theodore Prodromos: A Reappraisal’, pp. 23–86; I. Nilsson, ‘Komnenian Literature’, Byzantine Culture Papers from the Conference ‘Byzantine Days of Istanbul’ May 21–23 2010, ed. D.  Sakel (Istanbul, 2015), p. 129; M. Janssen and M. Lauxtermann, ‘Authorship Revisited: Language and Metre in the Ptochoprodromika’, Reading in the Byzantine Empire and Beyond, ed. R. Shawcross and I. Toth (Cambridge, 2018), pp. 558–84. 37  Italikos 1 and 23, pp. 64–5 and 173–175, respectively, if the later date is used then Italikos might have been the ‘philosopher’ sent to the western Emperor Lothar in 1137 to debate theological and ecclesiological issues, mentioned in the ‘Chronica Monasterii Casinensis’, ed. H. Hoffmann, MGH SS 34 (Hannover, 1980), p. 590; Prodromos, p. 25; Roskilly, Les évêques et leur autorité, pp. 74–5. 38  Italikos 33 and 10, pp. 209–210, 124–5, respectively. Whether his first position refers to doctors of the church or doctors of medicine is unknown, though ‘ἰατροί’ is taken to mean medical doctors in contemporary texts. 39  Italikos 37 and 10, pp. 222–4 and 118–25. Italikos’ mission as bishop to root out heresy is referenced in a letter to him from Theodore Prodromos on his appointment. This highlights the interconnectivity of those academics in imperial service, both clerics and laymen, with Prodromos too also writing letters to figures in the imperial administration such as Meles: Op de Coul, Théodore Prodrome Lettres et Discours, Letters 2, 15, 24 in particular, pp. 81–82, 125–6, 149–51. Roskilly suggests that Italikos may have been made a bishop just after the deaths of John and Patriarch Leo Styppeiotes, as either Manuel or the new Patriarch Michael II Kourkouas would have wanted to install their own favourites to these positions. However, considering a bishopric was the end goal of most of these didaskaloi, it was likely only a matter of time before Italikos was given a see anyway. See Chapter Fourteen and Roskilly, Les évêques et leur autorité, p. 84. Also see Roskilly, p. 65, for Italikos’ career in general.

18  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Germans of the Second Crusade, which in itself demonstrates the symbiotic relationship between an ecclesiastical career and a career in imperial service.40 In addition to a number of letters to officials and friends, some of whom were on campaign with John and which discuss the news of the day, he also wrote a few formal orations, with one on John’s great eastern campaign being especially informative. Basilakes’ career, on the other hand, was less successful. He first appears as an imperial notary and then didaskalos of the Apostles in c.1140, and he is later recorded as didaskalos of the Epistles in 1157, although given that these two offices were of similar rank, it appears that his career did not progress far in almost twenty years. At this synod of 1157, he was also accused of heresy, and though found innocent, he also went to Philippopolis afterwards.41 Like Italikos, his principal value for an investigation of John’s reign is his lengthy oration on the emperor’s great eastern campaign, but there are also orations to megas domestikos [commander-­in-­chief] John Axouch and John’s cousin Adrian, later to be known as Archbishop John IV of Ohrid (in office c.1143–60), both of which give unique insights into their lives and careers. Beyond these three rhetors, as with Zonaras and Anna there are a few authors principally known as sources for other em­perors that can throw some light on John reign. The life of Archbishop Theophylact of Ohrid (c.1055–1126), a man later renowned for his biblical commentaries, is known through his extensive correspondence. From this, we find him master of rhetors and then didaskalos of the Gospels before he became Archbishop in 1089, and within his correspondence he mentions the doctor and scholar Nicholas Kallikles.42 The latter is mentioned in the Alexiad as being one of the few competent doctors to tend to the dying Alexios, though we know little else of his life beyond his writings.43 He composed an epitaph for John’s wife, an encomium for new decorations commissioned by John for the Blachernai Palace, which were perhaps carried alongside the building of new living quarters, and an epigram for a renovated icon John donated to the Pantokrator monastery.44 Theophylact meanwhile gives us an oration to Alexios on John’s birth, and his writings on the 40  Odo of Deuil, De profectione Ludovici VII in orientem, ed. V. G. Berry (New York, 1948), p. 42; NC, p. 63. 41 A. Pignani, Niceforo Basilace, Progimnasmi e monodie (Naples, 1983), pp. 235–52; On his heresy trial see: I. Sakellion, ‘Τόμος συνοδικός’, Πατμιακὴ Βιβλιοθήκη (Athens, 1890), pp. 316–17. Basilakes also mentions that because of his ‘scholarly character’ he did not often visit the homes of the rich for patronage, which lends credence to the fact that his only career was in the church. See Basilakes, p. 5; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 336–7; Nilsson, ‘Komnenian Literature’, p. 129. 42  ODB, p. 2068; M.  Mullett, Theophylact of Ohrid: Reading the Letters of a Byzantine Archbishop (Aldershot, 1997). Theophylact of Ohrid, Lettres, pp. 151, 379–81, 491. Regarding Kallikles, Theophylact requested copies of Galen, Hippocrates, and Plato from Kallikles’ library, see pp. 477–9, 535–7. 43  AK, 15.11, p. 494; ODB, p. 1093. 44  Nicholas Kallikles, Carmi, ed. Roberto Romano (Naples, 1980); R. Shlyakhtin, ‘ “A New Mixture of Two Powers”: Nicholas Kallikles and Theodore Prodromos on Empress Eirene’, Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople, ed. M. Sághy and R. Ousterhout (Budapest, 2019), pp. 295–6; I. Vassis, ‘Das Pantokratorkloster von Konstantinopel in

Sources: Problems and Opportunities  19 workings of the church and relations with the Latins comprise important background to these developments throughout John’s reign. From the other end of John’s life, a few letters of the great poet and scholar John Tzetzes (c.1110–80) are informative. Tzetzes had a Greek father but was Georgian on his mother’s side, according to his Book of Histories, usually referred to as the Chiliades [‘Thousands’—after its arbitrary division into 1,000-­line books by its first editor], which is a miscellaneous collection of literary, historical, and theological investigations: a text that neatly represents his many interests and competencies.45 In addition to various asides in the Chilades that give insight into daily life at this time, Tzetzes’ letters to officials concerning tax receipts, his work and pay as an official himself, all shed light on government functions far beyond any detail recorded in our historical accounts.46 Finally, there is the anonymous author of a text which more than any other should be seen as a major political statement on John’s regime: the so-­called Muses of Alexios. This text is particularly significant as unlike all of the previous texts, which comment on events as they occurred and shortly thereafter, the author of the Muses claims to be advice given by Alexios to John for his reign. Despite what the text alleges, we know that Alexios could barely talk during his final illness, and the author even admits that this advice had come to the author ‘mystically, secretly’: as such, this text is far more likely to be a legitimizing piece written for John’s succession, and the author is using poetic licence to attribute the text to Alexios.47 The text discusses John’s youth and how he should now rule, before going into detail regarding the threats of foreign powers. Frustratingly,

der byzantinischen Dichtung’, The Pantokrator Monastery in Constantinople, ed. S Kotzabassi (Berlin, 2013), pp. 221−224. 45  John Tzetzes, Chiliades: Ioannis Tzetzae Historiarum variorum chilades Graecae, ed. T. Kiessling (1963 repr. Leipzig, 1826), 5.24, pp. 179–80. 46  Ioannes Tzetzes, Epistulae, ed. P. Leone (Leipzig, 1972). 47  Muses I, line 42. Alexios authoring the Muses is assumed by Mullett, Angold, and Magdalino: M. Mullett, ‘Alexios I Komnenos and Imperial Renewal’, New Constantines. The Rhythm of Imperial Renewal in Byzantium, 4th–13th Centuries, ed. P. Magdalino (Aldershot, 1994), p. 265; M. Angold, ‘Alexios I Komnenos: An Afterword’, Alexios I Komnenos-Papers, ed. M.  Mullett and D.  Smythe (Belfast, 1996), pp. 408–10; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 27–30. Mullett discusses the possibility of attribution to John rather than Alexios, and there is further discussion in: D.  Reinsch, ‘Abweichungen vom traditionellen Kaiserbild in Byzanz in 11. und 12. Jahrhundert’, L’éducation au gouvernement et à la vie. La tradition des ‘règles de vie’ de l’Antiquité au Moyen La tradition des ‘règles de vie’ de l’Antiquité au Moyen Âge. Actes du colloque international, Pise, 18–19 mars 2005, ed. P.  Odorico (Paris, 2009), pp. 115–28; Reinsch, ‘Bemerkungen zu einigen Byzantinischen, Fürstenspiegeln´ des 11. und 12. Jahrhunderts’, Synesios von Kyrene: Politik—­Literatur—­Philosophie, herausgegeben von Helmut Seng und Lars M. Hoffmann (Turnhout, 2013), pp. 412–17; M. Mullett, ‘Whose Muses? Two Advice Poems Attributed to Alexios I Komnenos’, La face cachée de la littérature byzantine. Le texte en tant que message immédiat. Actes du colloque international, Pise, 5–7 juin 2008, ed. P.  Odorico (Paris, 2012), pp. 195–220; Stanković, Komnini u Carigradu, pp. 148–65; Stanković, ‘John II Komnenos before the Year 1118’, p. 20; M. Lauxtermann, ‘His, and Not His: The Poems of the Late Gregory the Monk’, The Author in Middle Byzantine Literature, ed. A.  Pizzone (Berlin, 2014), p. 81, n. 17; Zagklas, ‘Poetry in the Komnenian Period’, pp. 241–2.

20  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 however, the second of the two Muses cuts off abruptly at line 81 (the first is 400 lines), and there is every possibility there could have been further Muses.48 At all events, from what we do have it is probable that this text sets out what amounts to John’s initial political manifesto, and in the next two chapters we can compare these intentions to what is related in our other sources, assessing how successfully he actualized the plans set out in the Muses.

Further Byzantine Sources Although John’s reign is not as well documented as those of his father and son, there is a fair amount of supplementary material that can flesh out what is reported in the histories proper. There is a lengthy text detailing the new system of taxation instituted by Alexios.49 There are a handful of other documents from John’s reign, including four pieces of legislation and one decree promulgated by him personally (all concerning property, both ecclesiastical and civil), the con­ firm­ation of privileges granted to the monastery of St. John on Patmos, an arbitration by John concerning the monastic lands of Mt Athos, and, most importantly on account of the light they cast on diplomatic history, two letters to Pope Innocent II (1130–43), and one to the German King Conrad III (who was anti-­ king in opposition to Emperor Lothar III between 1127 and 1135, and then un­opposed king between 1137 and 1152).50 Official seals, giving names, titles, 48  Muses I, lines 272–6, lines 287–90, Muses II, lines 52–3, 65, 81. 49  The text was composed during a tax indiction year, while Alexios is referred to as dead. Hendy proposed an 1118–19 date as the text concerns Alexios’ last tax reform, and so he presumed it would be for tax officials still coming to grips with the new system; however, Svoronos was an advocate for 1134/5 due to the exchange rate between the trachy and the nomisma at that time being 1/48, around 6 folleis, as related in the 1136 Pantokrator Typikon, pp. 90–112, 759–67. See: M. Hendy, Coinage and Money in the Byzantine Empire, 1081–1261 (Washington, DC, 1969), pp. 50–65, esp. 50; N. Svoronos, ‘Recherches sur le cadaster byzantin et la fiscalité aux XIe et XIIe siècles: le cadaster de Thèbes’, Bulletin de Correspondence Hellénique 83.1 (1959), p. 108, n. 2. The text itself can be found in Jus Graecoromanum, ed. J. Zepos and P. Zepos (Aalen, 1962), pp. 326–40, and a translation with commentary in C.  Morrisson, ‘La Logarikè: Réforme monétaire et réforme fiscale sous Alexis Ier Comnène’, TM 7 (1979), pp. 419–64. 50 Legislation: Regesten der Kaiserurkunden des oströmischen Reiches von 565–1453, Vol. 3: Regesten von 1025–1204, ed. F. Dölger and P. Wirth (Munich, 1995), pp. 186–99; J-A-B. Mortreuil, Histoire du droit byzantin ou du droit romain dans l’empire d’orient vol. III (Reprint of the 1843–1846 edition, Osnabrück, 1966), pp. 167–8, 485–6; Jus Graeco-romanum, ed. J.  Zepos and P.  Zepos, pp. 363–5; J.  Darrouzès, ‘Un décret d’Isaac II Angélos’, REB 40 (1982), esp. pp. 136–7, 139; Patmos Grant: E. Vranousi, Βυζαντινὰ ἔγγραφα τῆς μονῆς Πάτμου, Αʹ: Αὐτοκρατορικά (Athens, 1980), no. 8, 78–88. Mt. Athos Arbitration: Actes de Lavra. Première partie: Des origines à 1204, Archives de l’Athos V, ed. and tr. P. Lemerle, A. Guillou and N. Svoronos (Paris, 1970), p. 332. Letters: Digital Vatican Library, https://digi.vatlib.it/; S.  Lambros, ‘Ἀυτοκρατόρων του Βυζαντίου χρυσόβουλλα και χρυσά γράμματα αναφερόμενα εις ένωσιν των εκκλησιών’, Νέος Ἑλληνομνήμων 11 (1914), pp. 94–128; O. Kresten and A.  E.  Müller, ‘Die Auslandsschreiben der byzantinischen Kaiser des 11. und 12. Jahrhunderts: Specimen einer kritischen Ausgabe’, BZ 86/7 (1993–4), pp. 422–9; Otto of Freising ‘Chronicon Ottonis episcopi Frisingensis’, MGH (S) 20, ed. G.  Waitz (Hannover, 1912), p. 207; Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. VII; Stathakopoulos, ‘Historiographical Essay’, p. 5.

Sources: Problems and Opportunities  21 and offices of postholders provide useful information about the apparatus of government and the regime’s personnel.51 Coins do likewise for the economy and ideology.52 From an ecclesiastical context, we also have three hagiographies (Leontios of Jerusalem, St Gregory of Assos, and Bishop Niketas of Chonai) and records from the monasteries of Lembos and Stylos in western Anatolia, though these add little beyond incidental detail to our knowledge of imperial or ecclesiastical administration.53 Expanding this, however, are further sources which evidence three important projects that enable us to view John’s initiatives away from the battlefield, revealing three areas of particular concern to him. The first of these projects represents one of the few exceptions to John’s usually ‘overshadowed’ reign, as its associated texts and archaeological remains have received a relatively in-­depth amount of scholarly analysis. This project is the monastery of Christ Pantokrator, the remains of which are now the Zeyrek Camii, Istanbul. This is one of the few Byzantine monasteries where we have surviving buildings to go alongside its typikon [foundation charter], and even more associated texts such as poetic ekphrases.54 Though the typikon describes the functioning of the Pantokrator in 1136, the remains tell us that the plan for the complex changed from its conception to its completion.55 These changes are dramatized in an extract from the Synaxarion of Constantinople, where a tearful Eirene asks her husband to make the Pantokrator the greatest monastery in the city, while the typikon tells us that John and Eirene worked on the monastery together before her death left John to finish this project alone.56 51 On seals, notable collections include: A Collection of Dated Byzantine Lead Seals, ed. N.  Oikonomides (Washington, DC, 1986); Cartulaire générale de Paris, ed. R.  de Lasteyrie (Paris, 1887); Catalogue of Byzantine seals at Dumbarton Oaks and in the Fogg Museum of Art, ed. J. Nesbitt and N. Oikonomides, 7 vols (Washington, DC, 2001–20); Corpus of Byzantine seals from Bulgaria, ed. Jordanov, 2 vols (Sofia, 2003 and 2006); Les sceaux byzantins de la collection Henri Seyrig, ed. J.-C. Cheynet (Paris, 1991). On individuals in general, the Prosopography of the Byzantine World has been an invaluable resource: http://db.pbw.kcl.ac.uk/jsp/index.jsp. 52  Cf. the works of Papadopoulou, to whom I am grateful for advance copies of her papers at various points in the writing of this study. 53 Hagiographies: The Life of Leontios, Patriarch of Jerusalem: Text, Translation and Commentary, ed. and tr. D. Tsougarakis (Leiden, 1993); F. Halkin, ‘Saint Grégoire d’Assos: Vie et synaxaire inédits (BHG et Auctar. 710a et c)’, Analecta Bollandiana 102 (1984), pp. 5–34; Μιχαὴλ Ἀκομινάτου τοῦ Χωνιάτου τὰ σωζόμενα 1, ed. S.  Lambros (Athens, 1879–80, repr. Groningen, 1968). Monastic Archives: MM IV, pp. 62–3, 324–5, 329; H.  Ahrweiler, ‘L’histoire et la géographie de la région de Smyrne entre les deux occupations turques (1081–1317), particulièrement au XIIIe siècle’, TM 1 (1965), pp. 128–9; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 128–9; E. Ragia, ‘Η αναδιοργάνωση των θεμάτων στη Μικρά Ασία τον δωδέκατο αιώνα και το θέμα Μυλάσσης και Μελανουδίου’, Byzantine Symmeikta 17 (2008), pp. 223–38. 54  Pantokrator Typikon; P. Magdalino, ‘The Foundation of the Pantokrator Monastery in Its Urban Setting’, The Pantokrator Monastery in Constantinople, ed. S. Kotzabassi (Boston, 2013), p. 34. 55  See Chapter Eleven. 56  Synaxarium Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae. Propylaeum ad Acta Sanctorum Novembris, ed. H.  Delehaye (Brussels, 1902), pp. 887–90; tr. P.  Magdalino, ‘Appendix’ (2013), p. 34; Pantokrator Typikon, p. 29, p. 738; Ousterhout, ‘Pantokrator: Reassessing the Architectural Evidence’, pp. 226–7; Magdalino, ‘The Pantokrator Monastery in its Urban Setting’, passim; Jeffreys, ‘Piroska and the Komnenian Dynasty’, pp. 109, 117.

22  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Though, unfortunately, most of the opening, biographical, section of the typikon does not survive, the surviving text includes detailed descriptions of how the monks were to live, the ceremonies they should carry out, lists of individuals to be commemorated, the properties with which John and Eirene endowed the monastery, and, most importantly, the workings of the attached Pantokrator hospital and its associated philanthropy.57 This text is therefore profoundly useful for investigating aspects of John’s familial relations, personal piety, and the ideologies and policies of his regime, with the typikon additionally being the only text that includes the claim that it was written by John personally. Though the scale of the Pantokrator has previously marked it out as being John’s most important non-­military act, his other two projects may have completely dwarfed it had the emperor been able to complete them: the patronage of ecclesiastical and civil law, and his ecumenical project: the attempted reunification of the Greek Church with that of the Latin West and the Armenian East. John’s place within ecclesiastical legal history in particular has been completely overlooked due to the dominance of the late twelfth-­century commentaries of Theodore Balsamon (c.1140–99) in this field.58 Balsamon’s work is full of contemporary cases that illustrate his commentary, and yet these contemporary texts include no ecclesiastical legislation from John’s reign.59 With Balsamon as the primary lens through which twelfth-­century canon law is examined, John’s reign is a black hole, and yet beyond Balsamon our picture changes completely. Commentaries were also written by Alexios Aristenos, John’s cousin the Archbishop of Ohrid, and later by Zonaras, while there are also texts by a certain Doxapatres in addition to anonymous works.60 Reconstructing these men’s careers can be most successfully done in the cases of Zonaras, above, and of Aristenos, who is mentioned in the letters of Theodore Prodromos, as well as in encomia by Prodromos and Basilakes.61 Aristenos emerges as a figure who had a career that bridged ecclesiastical and imperial offices, similar to Italikos, and who was specifically commissioned by John to write his commentary, completing it in 57 M. Hinterberger, Autobiographische Traditionen in Byzanz (Vienna, 1999), p. 270; The Pantokrator Monastery in Constantinople, ed. S. Kotzabassi (Berlin, 2013); Stathakopoulos, ‘Historiographical Essay’, pp. 6–8. 58 E.  Herman, ‘Balsamon, DDC II’, cols. 76–83; S.  Troianos, ‘Byzantine Canon Law from the Twelfth to the Fifteenth Centuries’, The History of Byzantine and Eastern Canon Law to 1500, ed. W. Hartmann and K. Pennington (Washington, DC, 2012), pp. 180–3; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 293–7; Macrides, ‘Nomos and Kanon’, pp. 71–85; M.  Angold, Church and Society in Byzantium under the Comneni 1081–1261 (Cambridge, 1995), p. 101. 59 G. Stevens, De Theodoro Balsamone: Analysis operum ac mentis iuridicae (Rome, 1969), pp. 298–305; Angold, Church and Society, p. 75. 60 Alexios Aristenos, Kommentar zur ‘Synopsis canonum’, ed. E.  Papagianni, S.  Troianos, L.  Burgmann, and K.  Maksimovič (Berlin, 2019). For the anonymous works, see: S.  Troianos, ‘Η νομονοκανονική συλλογή του Cod. Cryptof. Zy VII’, Χαριστείον Σεραφείμ Τίκα (Thessalonike, 1984), pp. 453–73; History of Byzantine Canon Law, p. 192. 61 J. Darrouzès, Georges et Dèmètrios Tornikès, Lettres et Discours (Paris, 1970), pp. 53–7; Macrides, ‘Nomos and Kanon’, pp. 71–2; Troianos, ‘Byzantine Canon Law’, pp. 178–80.

Sources: Problems and Opportunities  23 c.1130.62 Zonaras too had his career split between state and church, and wrote his commentary alongside his more famous history.63 This work was, however, not completed until 1161, perhaps because of his split workload, and likely also because his work is far longer than that of Aristenos. More of a mystery, though, is the identity of the patron who commissioned Zonaras.64 Someone who would commission such a commentary alongside these others suggests that the patron disagreed with some of the conclusions reached by Aristenos, or perhaps one who was competing with the emperor in some way. Comparison of Aristenos’ commentary with Zonaras’ reveals several aspects of policy and opinion that date specifically to John’s reign. Further understanding of these aspects is aided by the commentary attributed to another of John’s cousins, a figure originally named Adrian but later named as Archbishop John of Ohrid, who wrote either late in John’s reign or early in Manuel’s. It is a commentary on the Syntagma of Canons found in a still unedited manuscript.65 Finally, there is Doxapatres. He was previously thought to be the author of a canonical commentary that was in fact a copy of Aristenos’ work, but a seal dating to c.1125 lists the occupation of a figure named Doxapatres as a judge. It is likely that this figure went into exile in Sicily after rivals forced him out, where he appeared as ‘Neilos’ Doxapatres and wrote texts that commented on canonical issues in ways that are intriguingly pro-­Byzantine.66 These commentaries have always been considered to be relatively unimportant as, unlike Balsamon, these canon lawyers rarely used contemporary examples in their works.67 However, what they do demonstrate is that the emperor was personally invested in improving the study of canon law, with John directly commissioning Aristenos, and perhaps the others. Such investment can also be seen in the production of the Ecloga Basilicorum: a selection of civil laws with commentary from the first ten of the sixty-­book corpus of laws known as the Basilica, originally begun under Emperor Basil I in 62  Ibid.; ‘Alexii Aristeni Nomophylacis’, PG 133, pp. 63–112; Macrides, ‘Nomos and Kanon’, p. 72. 63  Troianos, ‘Byzantine Canon Law’, pp. 176–8; Macrides, ‘Nomos and Kanon’, pp. 72–3. 64 Macrides, ‘Nomos and Kanon’, p. 73, based on the mention of Manuel’s second marriage, G. Rallis and M. Potlis, Σύνταγμα τῶν Θείων καὶ ἱερῶν κανόνων III (Athens, 1856), p. 80. 65 S.  Vailhé, ‘14. Adrien’, DHGE 1, ed. A.  Baudrillart, A.  Meyer, and R.  Aubert (Paris, 1912), pp.  613–14; H.  Beck, Kirche und theologische Literatur im byzantinischen Reich (Munich, 1959), p. 659; Troianos, ‘Byzantine Canon Law’, p. 191. 66 Seal: V.S.  Šandrovskaja and W.  Seibt, Byzantinische Bleisiegel der Staatlichen Eremitage mit ̌ Familiennamen, 1 Teil: Sammlung Lichacev—­ Namen von A bis I (Vienna, 2005), no. 73. His supposed commentary on the Nomokanon attests he originally came from Nicaea, was a deacon of Hagia Sophia, nomophylax, notarios to the patriarch and president of the protosynkelloi, which would give him a similarly prestigious career to the other commentators. His work is unpublished. For an overview taking the source as real, see: Mortreuil, Histoire du Droit Byzantin, pp. 483–5. For doubts expressed as to the manuscript, see: Troianos, ‘Byzantine Canon Law’, p. 191, nos. 77–8. For the possible link with the Sicilian canonist Neilos Doxapatres, see: J. Morton, ‘A Byzantine Canon Law Scholar in Norman Sicily: Revising Neilos Doxapatres’ Order of the Patriarchal Thrones’, Speculum 92.3 (2017), pp. 724–54, where his past is discussed on pp. 732–6, which especially notes that Neilos hoped ‘with tears’ that the emperor would learn the ‘hidden things’ concerning the ‘envious men’ who conspired against him. 67  Macrides, ‘Nomos and Kanon’, pp. 75–85.

24  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 the ninth century.68 These books primarily concern matters of jurisdiction and the organization of courts, their processes and appeals, and so in addition to being an invaluable source for reconstructing how civil courts operated in this period, they testify to John’s own interest in the efficiency of the courts.69 Compiled in c.1142 by an unknown jurist (who mentions judging a case personally), the author not only wrote under John but also may have been commissioned by the emperor personally as was the case with Aristenos. The fact that the project was aborted after the emperor’s death in 1143 strongly suggests this.70 There is even potential intertextuality between the work of Aristenos and the author of the Ecloga Basilicorum, which dangles before us the tantalizing possibility that John had commissioned a team of legal scholars to examine both canon and civil law as part of a large-­scale project of a sort not contemplated in many centuries.71 Had John lived to old age in Constantinople, the image in our sources might have been that of the great patron of jurisprudence, whose younger days only were spent on military campaigns. As if being the emperor who could have presided over a revision of Roman Law was not enough, the commonly held opinion that John was uninterested in ecclesiastical matters demands reappraisal considering the number of high-­ profile theological debates that took place during his reign, in addition to his direct correspondence with Pope Innocent II mentioned above. Though there are allusions to further debates whose proceedings have not survived, we have full accounts for two: the better-­ known Latin text by Bishop Anselm of Havelberg on his disputations with Bishop Niketas of Nikomedeia in 1136, and the less well-­known dialogues of Niketas of Thessalonike that were likely written around the same time.72 We also have a profession of faith written by the Armenian Katholikos, Grigor III Pahlavuni (in office 1113–66) to John, which the opening of the letter declares was requested by John himself.73 Furthermore, the canonical commentaries discussed above give opinions on the relationship 68  Ecloga Basilicorum, ed. L. Burgmann (Frankfurt am Main, 1988), pp. vii–­xviii. 69 Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 263; R. Macrides, ‘The Competent Court’, Law and Society in Byzantium: Ninth–­Twelfth Centuries (Washington, DC, 1994), pp. 117–29; D.  Penna, ‘A Witness of Byzantine Legal Practice in the 12th Century. Some Remarks on the Construction of the Ecloga Basilicorum’, Subseciva Groningana X (2019), pp. 139–62. 70  Ecloga Basilicorum, pp. xviii and 42; Macrides, ‘Competent Court’, p. 118; Penna, ‘Witness of Legal Practice’, pp. 155–7. Penna notes how the commentator talks about practice ‘σήμερον’ (today), and so it should certainly be seen as describing legal practice in the years prior to 1142, see: Penna, p. 154, citing Ecloga Basilicorum, p. 28. 71  Ecloga Basilicorum, p. x; N. van der Wal and J. Lokin, Historiae iuris graeco-­romani delineation: les sources du droit byzantin de 300 à 1453 (Groningen, 1985), p. 107. 72  Anselm of Havelberg, Anticimenon, ed. and comm. H. J. Sieben (Münster, 2010); A. Criste and C. Neel, Anticimenon: On the Unity of the Faith and the Controversies with the Greeks (Collegeville, MN, 2010); A. Bucossi, ‘The Six Dialogues of Niketas “of Maroneia”: A Contextualizing Introduction’, Dialogues and Debates from Late Antiquity to Late Byzantium, ed. A. Cameron and N. Gaul (Abingdon, 2017), pp. 137–52. 73  J.  Darrouzès, ‘Trois documents de la controverse gréco-­arménienne’, REB 48 (1990), p. 133; M. Lau, ‘A Dream Come True? Matthew of Edessa and the Return of the Roman Emperor’, Dreams,

Sources: Problems and Opportunities  25 between patri­arch­ies in the early church, and we have several short mentions of communications between John and members of other churches, with highlights including a late 1130s letter from Abbot Peter of Cluny to John, and the Abbot of St Victor, Marseilles, giving John a relic from his eponymous saint.74 Together, these sources evoke a policy of outreach and rapprochement on the part of John personally, such that, as with his legal patronage, if John had lived beyond 1143 he might have been remembered as much for his role in fostering ecumenical relations as for his martial campaigns.

Non-­Byzantine Sources Non-­Greek histories are among the richest sources of supplementary material for John’s reign, providing us with individually unique, non-­Constantinopolitan-­ based, voices. Several were written in neighbouring regions (in Syriac, Turkish, Armenian, and Arabic) at the time and later. These clarify what occurred within Anatolia and adjoining lands, as well as comment on relations between Byzantium and other powers. They are, however, outnumbered by Latin sources: the attention of Latin Christendom had been pulled eastwards by its abiding concern for the Crusader states established in the Levant in the early years of the twelfth century, and the ebb and flow in relations between the western powers and Byzantium, especially the German Empire, France, and the Italian merchant cities. Finally, there is a miscellany of other sources. One, the Chronicle of the Priest of Diokleia/Duklja (modern south-­eastern Montenegro), is useful despite the problems raised by its fraudulent authorship, while others view Byzantium from the distant north.

Memory and Imagination in Byzantium, ed. B.  Neil and E.  Anagnostou-­Laoutides (Leiden, 2018), pp. 160–79. 74  Peter the Venerable, The Letters of Peter the Venerable, ed. G. Constable (Cambridge, 1967), nos. 75, 76, pp. 208–10; J. Gay, ‘L’Abbaye de Cluny et Byzance au debut du XIIe siècle’, Echos d’Orient 30 (1931), pp. 84–90; Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 162; K. Ciggaar, Western Travellers to Constantinople: The West and Byzantium, 962–1204: Cultural and Political Relations (Leiden, 1996), p. 40. Gay dates the letter earlier, but only because he assumes it is contemporary with the letters of John to the Papacy, which as shown by Lilie date to the time of John’s eastern expeditions. St. Victor: P. Riant, Exuviae sacrae constantinopolitanae II, (Geneva, 1878), pp. 23–4. This relic diplomacy followed precedents set by Alexios I and former emperors going back to the fourth century, and it would be continued by John’s successors. See: H. Klein, ‘Eastern Objects and Western Desires: Relics and Reliquaries between Byzantium and the West’, DOP 58 (2004), pp. 283–314; P. Frankopan, The First Crusade: The Call From the East (London, 2012), p. 106; J.  Shepard, ‘How St James the Persian’s Head Was Brought to Cormery: A Relic Collector around the Time of the First Crusade’, Zwischen Polis, Provinz und Peripherie: Beiträge zur byzantinischen Geschichte und Kultur, ed. L. Hoffmann (Wiesbaden, 2005), pp. 287–336; J. Shephard, ‘The “muddy road” of Odo Arpin from Bourges to Charité-­sur-­Loire’, The Experience of Crusading II: Defining the Crusader Kingdom, ed. P. Edbury and J. Phillips (Cambridge, 2003), pp. 22, 26–8. However, crucially this example demonstrates that under John, relic diplomacy went from west to east as well as east to west.

26  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 The most important eastern source is the Chronicle of Michael the Syrian, Patriarch of the Syrian Church (sometimes referred to as ‘Jacobite’), with corroboration and some additional information provided by the Syriac Anonymous Chronicle of 1234. These previously overlooked texts for Byzantine history completely change our analysis of what occurred in Anatolia in this period, especially when supported by Armenian texts such as the Chronicle of Matthew of Edessa, and its continuation by Gregory the Priest.75 The Chronicle of Michael the Syrian was written in Melitene in the final decades of the twelfth century before Michael’s death in 1199.76 With his patriarchate under the rule of the Danishmendid Turkish dynasty, he provides the closest historical account possible to a Danishmendid perspective from this era: his detailed knowledge of the politics of the Turks of Asia Minor is second to none—­ unsurprising given his geographical and chronological proximity to events.77 Equally, his position as Syrian Jacobite Patriarch and partiality in favour of his faith makes him peculiarly even-­handed in his judgements: for though he is no friend of his Islamic overlords, he is equally hostile to the Chalcedonian Churches of Constantinople and Rome.78 Despite this, he evidences a genuine interest in events in Constantinople, and appears to know of Balkan events too through a certain Basil of Edessa who was present at least for John’s victory at Berroia in 1122.79 This man is likely to be Metropolitan Basil bar Çabuni, a well-­read writer of Greek who was excommunicated by Syrian Jacobite Patriarch Athanasius VII and so may have fled to John, and may have therefore authored a lost account used by Michael.80 The Chronicle fills in a number of almost empty years in Kinnamos and Choniates’ accounts, with some corroborating detail also found in the lacunae-­filled Anonymous Chronicle of 1234. This was also written from the late twelfth century onwards contemporaneously with Michael, with the author

75 Cf. P.  Guevara, Aftershocks of Byzantium: The Komnenian restoration through Twelfth and Thirteenth Century Syriac Chronicles (unpublished master’s thesis, Oxford University, 2019), esp. pp. 5–11, 16–8, 54–7 for Michael the Syrian and John. 76  Michael the Syrian’s biography is sketched in Mich. Syr. ‘Preface’, pp. ix–­xii, and further analysed by Spinei, ‘Michael the Syrian’, pp. 169–76, who also summarizes the available historiography of the patriarch. Both are based upon details in the text and the life given by the thirteenth-­century chron­ic­ ler Bar Hebraeus, Chronicon Ecclesiasticum Vol. 1 (Leuven, 1872), p. 575. See also: D.  Weltecke, ‘Michael the Great’, Franks and Crusades in Medieval Eastern Christian Historiography, ed. A. Mallett (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 213–42. 77  See M. Lau and R. Shlyakhtin, ‘Mas’ūd I of Ikonion: The Overlooked Victor of the Twelfth-­ century Anatolian Game of Thrones’, Byzantinoslavica LXXVI/1–2 (2019), pp. 230–52; S. Solmaz., ‘Danișmend Gazinin anadoluya geliși’, Selçuk Üniversitesi Edebiyat Fakültesi Dergisi 14 (2002), pp. 229–49. 78  Mich. Syr. 19.5, lost in the Syriac text, though preserved in an Armenian revision and Bar Hebraeus, see: Chabot, p. 334, n. 3; tr. 334–6; V. Spinei, ‘An Oriental Perspective on the Ethnic Realities of the Balkans in the Eleventh–­Twelfth Centuries: Michael the Syrian’, Archivum Eurasiae Medii Aevi 20 (2013), pp. 174–5; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 75–6. 79  Mich. Syr. 15.12, p. 600; tr. p. 207; Guevara, Aftershocks of Byzantium, esp. pp. 32, 39. See Chapter Four for more on the date of this battle. 80  Ibid., 15.7–9, p. 587, 590–2, 600; tr. pp. 185, 190–1, 200–1, 207; Spinei, ‘Michael the Syrian’, p. 195.

Sources: Problems and Opportunities  27 likely from Edessa; the main references to John are around his accession, where the author provides more information than Michael, and details on John’s great eastern expedition, while other sections are derivative of the Chronicle in both content and opinion, though this may be on account of consulting the same ­ori­gin­al sources rather than the author having read Michael’s work.81 Special mention should also be made here of the Danişmend-­name, the heroic epic tale of the founder of the Danishmendid dynasty, who conquered many of the lands held by the Danishmends in John’s reign in the late eleventh century.82 Though this text is filled with its Turkish and converted Roman heroes engaged in duels, rescuing princesses and battling magic-­wielding monks, and it relates eleventh-­century events while being compiled in the mid-­thirteenth century, the text displays an ‘impressionistic image of the Byzantine army and society during the Komnenian period’.83 This text also corroborates much of the information from Michael the Syrian and others, in addition to being an intriguingly insightful view of the Komnenian empire through the eyes of outsiders. Though more limited in geographical scope, Armenian texts provide us with a local voice for events in Cilicia. They are broadly divided by date, as the contemporary Chronicle of Matthew of Edessa, monastic elder of Karmir Vank’, is very complimentary about John, seeing him as a deliverer from both Latin and Turkish oppressors. He is much more negatively portrayed in the continuation of the Chronicle by Gregory the Priest, and in a few notes contained in the thirteenth-­ century Chronicle of Smbat Sparapet, which were written under the nascent kingdom of Armenian Cilicia.84 For these latter sources, John’s portrayal is transformed from defender of the Armenians to an oppressor who stood in the way of Armenian independence. John’s positive portrayal by Matthew of Edessa may also have been shaped by the possibility that they may have met, as I shall

81  Anonymi Auctoris Chonicon ad A.C.  1234 pertinens II, ed. I.  Chabot (Leuven, 1974), p. ix; Guevara, pp. 11–12; English tr: A. Tritton and H. Gibb (ed. and tr.), ‘The First and Second Crusades from an Anonymous Syriac Chronicle’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland 1 (1933), pp. 69–101 and 2 (1933), pp. 273–305; H. Teule, ‘The Anonymous Syriac Chronicle to the Year 1234’, Franks and Crusades in Medieval Eastern Christian Historiography, ed. A.  Mallett (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 243–56. 82  Danişmend-­name, ed. N. Demir, 4 vols (Cambridge M.A, 2002). 83 B.  Bayrı, Warriors, Martyrs, and Dervishes Moving Frontiers, Shifting Identities in the Land of Rome (13th–15th Centuries) (Leiden, 2020), pp. 22–8 and 90–5 on dating, pp. 44–57 on the simi­lar­ ities with the Komnenian period. 84  Matt. Ed., pp. 6, 225; Gregory the Priest, pp. 241–2; Smbat Sparapet, pp. 9–37. Andrews argues that Matthew had died by the time of John’s arrival in Cilicia, advocating that Matthew would not have written positively about him if the emperor was invading his homeland. I will discuss this further in Chapter Eight, but for further reading see: M.  Lau, ‘A Dream Come True?’, pp. 160–79, contra: T.  Andrews, Mattʿēos Ur˙hayecʿi and His Chronicle: History as Apocalypse in a Crossroads (Leiden, 2017); Andrews, ‘Matthew of Edessa (Mattʿēos Ur˙hayecʿi)’, Franks and Crusades in Medieval Eastern Christian Historiography, ed. A. Mallett (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 153–78. On Smbat and his Chronicle, see: S. La Porta, ‘The Chronicle Attributed to Smbat the Constable’, Franks and Crusades in Medieval Eastern Christian Historiography, ed. A. Mallett (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 179–210.

28  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 discuss in Chapter Eight, making his section of the Chronicle an invaluable contemporary source for John’s Cilician plans. For Syria, the primary goal of the Arabic sources is to argue for Islamic unity against the crusaders. Many of them were written a full century after the events they describe, using history to make their case for unity, though they may have used lost contemporary histories as their own sources. Our best author for chron­ ology and content is Ibn al-­Athir (c.1160–c.1233), who almost certainly wrote from the end of the twelfth century into the thirteenth in Mosul, Baghdad, Damascus, and Aleppo.85 However, his Chronicle (along with a separate history of the Atabegs of Mosul) was written expressly to glorify the Zengids due to Ibn al-­ Athir’s gratitude for the favour shown his family by the dynasty. His account therefore contains the best detail due to his family’s close proximity to events, but it is also the most likely to contain omissions and alterations in favour of the Zengids. The thirteenth-­century History of Aleppo by Ibn al-­Adim shares many of the same biases, but because he was writing a specific history of Aleppo, after the Zengid fall in Syria, the author does not eulogize Zengi to the same extent as Ibn al-­Athir, and indeed points out instances when Zengi let down the Muslim cause.86 For his History, Ibn al-­Adim drew on the Chronicle of the Aleppan poet and teacher al-­Azimi (c.1090–post -1161), of which only fragments survive.87 However, there is largely complete section relating an Aleppan perspective on John’s Syrian campaign of 1138. This contains details found in no other source, as might be expected considering al-­Azimi is likely to have been an eyewitness to John’s assault on Aleppo that year. In a different vein is the c.1183 work entitled: The Book of Learning by Example by Usama ibn-­Munqidh, which is, as the title suggests, a book of examples from which to draw life lessons, illustrated with autobiographical and historical details.88 Usama was the nephew of ‘Izz-­ al-­ Din abu-­ al-­ ’Asakir Sultan, the Munquidh ruler of Shayzar, to which John laid siege in 1138, and so regarding this siege his work is invaluable, particularly as he shows himself to be very open in his opinions as to the good and bad in Christians as well as Sunni and Shia Muslims that he knows. In many ways, the crusader sources are the reflection of their Islamic counterparts: recruiting for a new crusade, and arguing that only through Christian unity will the Holy Land be retained. The Latin source par excellence for John’s reign is 85  Ibn al-­Athir, The Chronicle of Ibn al-­Athir for the Crusading Period from al-­Kamil fi’l-­ta’rikh Part 1, tr. D.S.  Richard (Aldershot, 2006), pp. 2–3. For the few references for later periods, see: ‘Extrait de la Chronique intitulée Ibn-­Alatyr’, Kamel-­Altevarykh, RHC Historiens orientaux vol. I (Paris, 1872), pp. 187–800. 86  Ibn al-­Adim, ‘Chronique d’Alep’, RHC Historiens orientaux III (Paris, 1884), p. 674. 87  al-­Azimi, pp. 101–64. 88  Usama Ibn-­Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation. Islam and the Crusades, tr. P. Cobb (London, 2008), pp. xv–­xli; P. Cobb, Usama ibn Munquidh: Warrior-­Poet in the Age of the Crusades (Oxford, 2005), p. 63.

Sources: Problems and Opportunities  29 Archbishop William of Tyre’s Historia. Though still a child during the latter part of John’s reign, William met Emperor Manuel in 1168 and visited Jerusalem in 1171, while being a supporter of Manuel’s grandniece Maria as Queen of Jerusalem.89 His Byzantinophile character proves both a strength and a weakness. On the one hand, his very full accounts of John’s campaigns in Syria and the Levant appear to be based on either lost sources or oral accounts that he would certainly have been in the right place to have gathered.90 On the other, his account is almost suspiciously positive concerning John, who appears as the perfect Christian warrior, leading his troops from the frontline in defence of the faith.91 Such a portrayal is then juxtaposed with the image of the Latin crusader princes, who are portrayed as playing dice in their tents while these battles rage.92 In arguing for Christian unity, William’s portrayals and purposes are not too dissimilar from those of Choniates, though with more proximate information; where William’s text comes into its own though is that it can be directly compared with less favourable Latin and non-­Latin sources, such that any particularly partial sections in those other texts can be identified. The other major Latin crusader texts are only tangentially related to John, often focusing on the First or Second Crusade before or after his reign, but often with the same recruiting, uniting message as William. From the former camp is the chronicle of the French priest Fulcher of Chartres who participated in the First Crusade, and then authors that derive much of their material, directly or in­dir­ ect­ly, from him, such as the English monk Orderic Vitalis. Separate to these texts is Odo of Deuil’s c.1148 account of the Second Crusade, which represents a Latin voice from a specific contingent of a specific campaign, rather than an account of an author embedded in the east.93 Odo includes valuable background material, covering inter alia John’s reign. All three mistrust the ‘Greeks’ for being too close to the Saracens, with Odo’s account being almost uniformly hostile to these Greeks due to the French contingent’s treatment during the second crusade, and he projects that hostility back on to John’s reign.94 Fulcher ‘grieves for the sins of

89  P. Edbury and J. Rowe, William of Tyre: Historian of the Latin East (Cambridge, 1988), 16–9, 130, 144; Stathakopoulos, ‘Historiographical Essay’, p. 3. See Chapter Eight. 90  Ibid., p. 46. 91 William of Tyre, Willelmi Tyrensiis Archiepiscopi Chronicon, ed. R.B.C.  Huygens (Turnhout, 1986), 15.1, pp. 674–5. 92 Ibid. 93  On this difference, see: C. MacEvitt, ‘What Was Crusader about the Crusader States?’, Al-­Masāq 30.3 (2018), pp. 317–30. 94  See Chapter Eight. Odo of Deuil, pp. 68–9, 502–9; M. Bull, Eyewitness and Crusade Narrative Perception and Narration in Accounts of the Second, Third and Fourth Crusades (Woodbridge, 2018), pp. 156–92; Bull notes that Odo’s experiences represent just one viewpoint on the Second Crusade, and they can be neatly contrasted with the more positive experiences of the German contingent. Equally, despite his anti-­Byzantine stance he still makes time to make positive comments about specific Greek figures and applauds the contribution of Greek clergy to the celebration of the feast of St Dionysus. Bull, Narrative Perception and Narration, pp. 168–9.

30  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 the Venetians against the Greeks’ when discussing John’s war with Venice, even if he finds their appropriation of relics permissible.95 Fulcher’s account of the Venetian war of the 1120s highlights the importance of non-­eastern Latin texts for John’s reign, in particular those from Venice and Hungary that give the opposing perspective on these two wars. Fulcher’s account of the Venetian war is greatly enhanced by the Annales Venetici Breves, Dandolo’s Chronicon Venetum, the Historia Ducum Veneticorum, and two tales of the translation of St Isidore (whose relics were stolen by the Venetians from Byzantium at this time).96 These are all partisan Venetian sources, but between them they shed light on the otherwise all but invisible war with Venice, with their dates of composition being broadly contemporary with Choniates; considering this war is barely mentioned in Choniates and Kinnamos’ accounts, these chronicles are essential for piecing together what occurred in this conflict. Though our Greek histories provide comparatively more information on John’s Hungarian war, the thirteenth-­century Chronicon Pictum, Gesta Hungarorum and the Vita maior Stephani regis Ungariae all look at events from the Hungarian side. These later texts should be read in the knowledge that their unknown authors are criticizing the past in order to make comments about late twelfth- and early thirteenth-­ century Hungarian politics, especially with respect to how rulers should behave; but, conscious of this agenda, we can still determine the priorities of both John and King Stephen of Hungary, and thus clarify issues of dating.97 Beyond these wars, there are also Latin texts from the other Italian city states, Norman southern Italy, and the German empire. Again, the Greek sources barely mention these western lands during John’s reign, but from southern Italy and Germany the diplomatic role of Constantinople still looms large through a good number of texts composed in the 1130s or soon after. The pro-­Norman histories of Alexander of Telese, Abbot of San Salvatore, and Archbishop Romuald Guarna of Salerno, as well as the anti-­Norman history of Falco of Benevento and the Neapolitan Annals, all relate John’s participation in the coalition against King Roger of Sicily, with Bishop Otto of Freising, the Saxon Annalist and the thirteenth-­century Annals of Erfurt also mentioning theological debates and

95  Fulcher of Chartres, Fulcheri Carnotensis Historia Hierosolymitana (1095–1127), ed. H. Hagenmayer (Heidelberg, 1913), 3.41, pp. 758–60. 96  See Chapters Five and Six. ‘Annales Venetici Breves’, ed. H.  Simonfeld, MGH XIV (Hanover, 1883); Andrea Dandolo, ‘Chronicon Venetum. Andreae Danduli ducis Venetiarum chronica per extensum descriptum aa, 46–1280’, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores XII:I, ed. E.  Pastorello (Bologna, 1938); ‘Historia Ducum Veneticorum’, MGH SS 14 (Hannover, 1883); ‘Translatio Isidori’, RHC: Historiens occidentaux 5 (Paris, 1895), pp. 322–3; ‘Translatio Sancti Nicolai Monachi anonymi Littorensis’, RHC: Historiens occidentaux 5 (Paris, 1895), pp. 255–72. 97  See Chapter Six. ‘Chronicon Pictum’, SRH I, ed. I.  Szentpétery (Budapest, 1938), pp. 419–47; Simonis de Kéza, Gesta Hungarorum, ed. and tr. L. Veszprémy and F. Schaer (Budapest, 1999); ‘Vita maior Stephani regis Ungariae’, ed. G.H. Pertz, MGH (S) 11 (Hannover, 1854), pp. 229–42.

Sources: Problems and Opportunities  31 further diplomatic initiatives between the western and eastern empires.98 The Neapolitan Annals in particular are even dated according to the reign of the emperor in Constantinople, highlighting how many of these western sources can also assist with the dating of events which are unclear in our Greek texts. The contemporary Pisan and Genoese Annals give us yet another perspective on this diplomacy, while mentioning commercial treaties struck between these republics and the emperor, especially in the context of John’s great eastern expedition (1136–9), demonstrating in themselves how the Latin east and the Latin west were linked.99 Where these Latin texts have specific, though sometimes limited, uses, one regional voice has the potential to rewrite everything we know about John’s engagement with the Balkans, but it is also the most problematic source: the Chronicle of the so-­called Priest of Diokleia/Duklja.100 The authenticity of this text has been doubted for many years, and recently it has been accepted that its composition is the result of a seventeenth-­century fabrication, designed to stoke the spluttering fires of some form of Slavic resistance to the Ottomans.101 Though the early parts of the text are deeply questionable, it has been demonstrated that its coverage of many eleventh- and twelfth-­century events derive from the accounts of Anna Komnene or Kinnamos, which were used in the composition of three other seventeenth-­century histories.102 As such, for those years not covered by known sources, it appears likely that the chronicle bases its narrative on a ‘texte slave antérieur’, or possibly even a Greek text that has not survived to the present, as its level of detail, and alignment with other sources, does not change.103 Though the text contains few exact dates, when it uses dates they prove to be relatively accurate, correctly telling us that twelve years passed between Bohemond’s Norman invasion (1106) and Alexios’ death (1118), for example.104 This is profoundly helpful in clearing up dating issues from Choniates and Kinnamos, and although the text tends to favour the rulers of 98  Cf. Chapters Eight and Nine. Alexander of Telese, Alexandri Telesini Abbatis Ystoria Rogerii Regis Sicilie Calabrie Atque Apulie, ed. de Nava, L, commentary: Clementi, D (Rome, 1991); Romuald of Salerno, Chronicon, ed. G.  Andenna (Salerno, 2001); Falco of Benevento, Falcone di Benevento, Chronicon Beneventanum, ed. E. D’Angelo (Florence, 1996); Regii neapolitani archivi monumenta edita ac illustrate, ed. A.  Spinelli, 6 vols (Naples, 1858); Otto of Freising ‘Chronicon Ottonis episcopi Frisingensis’, pp. 83–301; Annalista Saxo, Die Reichschronik des Annalista Saxo, ed. K. Nass (Hanover, 2006); ‘Annales Erphesfurdenses’, MGH (S) rerum Germanicarum VI, ed. Grundmann, H (Munich, 1969), pp. 536–41. 99  Cf. Chapters Eight and Nine. Annali genovesi di Caffaro e de’ suoi continuatori, dal MXCIX al MCCXCII, FSI I, ed. Belgrano, L, and di Sant’ Angelo, C. I (Rome, 1890); Bernardo Maragone, Annales Pisani, ed. M. L. Gantile, RIS VI.2 (Bologna, 1936). 100  Priest of Diokleia. 101  A. Bujan, ‘La Chronique du Prêtre du Dioclée Un Faux Document Historique’, REB 66 (2008), pp. 5–38. 102  Ibid., esp. pp. 9, 20, 22, 36. 103  Ibid., p. 22. 104  Priest, XLV, p. 172; J. Fine, The Early Medieval Balkans A Critical Survey from the Sixth to the Late Twelfth Century (Ann Arbor, 1991), p. 232. Cf. J. Ferluga, ‘Die Chronik des Priesters von Diokleia als Quelle für byzantinische Geschichte’, Byzantina 10 (1980), pp. 431–60.

32  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Diokleia over their rival Serbs in Raška, this is less of a problem than it might appear, as this partiality can take us close to views of John’s own government. Diokleia was the Serb court loyal to Constantinople while Raška tended towards rebellion.105 This source is therefore of immense value for understanding what occurred in the murky decade of the 1120s when we have few other sources available. Without this text, we would have very little idea of the major players in the Serb lands at this time, and indeed what occurred there at all.106 Finally, we have some distinct voices from the north. Rus and Georgian chronicles were written principally to glorify the reigns of their respective hero-­rulers: Vladimir II Monomakh of Kiev and David IV ‘The Builder’ Bagrationi of Georgia. Though we rarely encounter direct mention of John himself, when we read these sources in parallel to those discussed above, some striking alignments occur that give a new perspective on events such as the nomad invasion of 1121/2. Such texts open up our understanding of wider contexts and imply that these rulers co-­operated with John against the mutual threat from the steppe.107 The Rus Primary Chronicle, based on the Laurentian Codex, and the Hypatian Codex exists in manuscripts dating from fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, but certainly contains earlier elements.108 The Georgian ცხოვრება მეფეთ მეფისა დავითისი, ‘History of the King of Kings David’ is the subject of numerous debates as to sections dating from different periods, but there is an abridged, Armenian adaptation that dates from the twelfth century, and this will be cited here unless stated otherwise.109 Also, of near contemporary twelfth-­century dating, and relating to the nomadic invasion, is evidence deriving from Norse sagas. Though the emperors and heroes mentioned date from the eleventh century (Olaf II of Norway and ‘Kirjalax’, derived from Kyrios Alexios) they contain details of events from the twelfth, especially regarding the battle of Berroia in 1122.110 The sagas tell us the place of battle 105 Stephenson, Byzantium’s Balkan Frontier, p. 119. 106  Lau, ‘Rewriting the 1120s’, pp. 87–108. See Chapter Six. 107  M.  Lau, ‘Multilateral Cooperation in the Black Sea in the Late Eleventh and Early Twelfth Centuries: The Case for an Alliance between Byzantium, Kiev and Georgia’, Cross Cultural Exchange in the Byzantine World, c.300–1500 A.D.: Selected Papers from the XVII Oxford University Byzantine Society’s International Graduate Conference, ed. K. Stewart and J. Wakeley (Oxford, 2016), pp. 19–36. See Chapter Four. 108  PSRL I, ed. K. N. Serbin (Leningrad, 1977), p. 33; PSRL II (1843). 109  ‘The History of David, King of Kings’, Rewriting Caucasian History The Medieval Armenian Adaption of the Georgian Chronicles, tr. R.W. Thomson (Oxford, 1996); S. Rapp, Studies in Medieval Georgian Historiography: Early Texts and Eurasian Contexts (Leuven, 2003). 110  Flateyjarbok vol. II, ed. S. Nordal (Akraness, 1944); Fornmanna sögur, eptir gömlum handritum útgefnar að tilhlutun hius Norræna fornfræða fèlags vols V and VI, ed. F. P. Hartv (Kaupmannahøfn, 1832; 1834); Heimskringla, XX-­ I, Snorri Sturluson, ed. B.  S.  Kristjánsdóttir (Reykjavík, 1991); ‘Legendae aliquot veteres de Sancto Olavo Rege Norvegiae’, Scriptores Rerum Danicarum II, ed. J. Langbek (Christiania, 1773), pp. 529–52; Passio et miracula beati Olaui: edited from a twelfth century manuscript in the Library of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, ed. F. Metcalfe (Oxford, 1881); Saga Olafs konungs ens Helga: Udförligere saga om kong Olaf den Hellige efter det ældste fuldstændige pergaments haandskrift i det store, ed. C. R. Unger and P. A. Munch (Christiania, 1853); R. Dawkins, ‘An Echo in

Sources: Problems and Opportunities  33 was called ‘Pézínavellir’ (a likely Norse derivation of Pazinak) in the land of the Vlachs (Blökumannaland), and that there were many invading ‘kings’ which likely represents the various tribal chiefs. However, the events of the battle do not follow Anna’s account of the battle of Levounion (1091), when Alexios defeated the Pechenegs—­indeed, Anna does not even mention the Varangians being present, and so it appears that these sagas are using details from Berroia to add colour to their ostensible eleventh-­century setting. A source for these events is Einarr Skúlason’s Geisli, which has a terminus ante quem of spring 1153, and specifically mentions the new miracles of St Olaf which were performed at the battle of Pézínavellir.111 This is described as a battle involving Norsemen in the service of the ‘Greek King’, where prayers to the saint turned the tide so that they could take the wagon-­fortress—­i.e. referencing events which as we shall see below refer to Berroia, and not Levounion. Though the text certainly includes some earlier material, Skúlason tells us he heard this story from a Swedish nobleman called Eindriði, known from other sagas to have served in the Varangian Guard for many years before he visited King Ingi of Bergen in 1148 (where he would have been able to meet Skúlason).112 These sagas therefore comprise invaluable accounts of Berroia and the nomad invasion from John’s reign, in addition to testi­fy­ing to the far-­reaching influences of this battle on the wider medieval world. The corpus of historical and rhetorical sources is thus far greater than can be supposed when simply researching Byzantine sources on John’s reign, and though not many are concerned with John directly, between them they are far greater than the sum of their parts for understanding this period. In addition to these four groups of sources, there is one last major category of evidence that dra­mat­ic­ al­ly reshapes our understanding of John’s reign: surviving fortresses and other buildings.

Archaeological Evidence The intersection of our texts with archaeology provides the best possible evidence for John’s reign. The written sources discussed so far describe John’s campaigns in particular as a story of Byzantine expansion, but they tell us little about how that expansion worked in practice. To give an example of the value of the material evidence, Choniates and Kinnamos mention in passing that John built fortifications

the Norse Sagas of the Patzinak War of John II Comnenos’, AIPHOS 5 = Mélanges Émile Boisacq (Brussels, 1937), pp. 243–9; S.  Blöndal, The Varangians of Byzantium, tr., revised, and rewritten by B. S. Benedikz (Cambridge, 2007), p. 122. 111  Einarr Skúlason’s Geisli: A Critical Edition, ed. M. Chase (Toronto, 2005), pp. 9–10 for dating, 41–3 for discussion of the battle, and 102–6 for the text on the battle itself. 112  An eleventh-­century date is argued by: O. Sandaaker, ‘Mirakelet på Pezina-­vollane’, Collegium Medievale 4 (1991), pp. 85–97.

34  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 at Lopadion; Prodromos dedicates a poem to Lopadion as a new city.113 The scale of the archaeological remains at this site, combined with its mentions in written sources, demonstrates that under John Lopadion became a major base of op­er­ ations and a flourishing city. The passing mentions of fortifications built by John tell us very little about the purpose of these structures: were they huge, invasion-­ stopping fortresses, or merely glorified watchtowers? Were they built quickly and on a limited budget, or monumentally with decorative features? Did these ‘castles’ guard towns, roads, or rivers? How did they operate with other fortifications in the area? What was their relationship to the geography and the landscape, both phys­ic­al and political, around them? Are we seeing islands of imperial control in a troubled landscape, or are these fortresses a sign of a settled and prosperous province? But as the Lopadion example demonstrates, archaeological remains can fundamentally reshape our understanding of existing written sources, and are therefore a vital complement to them when investigating this period, and many others. To introduce this material, we are hugely fortunate that Komnenian remains are often clearly datable due to their masonry and location, significantly making up for the lack of inscriptions or coin finds by which Byzantine buildings are often dated. Beginning with sites explicitly mentioned in our texts as being built by John, such as the aforementioned city of Lopadion or the fortress at Anchyrous, we are in a strong position to date to the same period other sites with similar features: rounded towers built with courses of red brick and white stone or spolia, along with the decorative use of cloisonné masonry.114 To allay any doubt about these two fortresses and their masonry being a useful diagnostic tool, we see the same use of brick and stone masonry in John’s monastery of the Pantokrator, and in two further churches in Kastoria, modern Greece, dated to the twelfth century on account of their interior decoration.115 Using such distinctive masonry as a template, further buildings can then be dated to John’s reign by their geographic location in areas where he campaigned. Some scholars have done so already, though the study of these buildings has often been limited by their modern context, as fortresses located in different countries are rarely examined side by side.116 In addition, many of these sites are relatively 113  NC, p. 33; JK, p. 38; Prodromos XVIII; Lau, ‘Power of Poetry’, pp. 195–214; Lau, ‘Ioannoupolis’, pp. 435–64. 114  C. Foss and D. Winfield, Byzantine Fortifications: An Introduction (Pretoria, 1986), pp. 146–7. 115  Though Ćurčić is convinced by the twelfth-­century dating of both churches, Epstein dates the church of H. Anargyroi to the tenth century, even though she dates H. Nikolaos tou Kasnitze to the twelfth century and the masonry of these two churches is all but identical, not only to each other but also to the Pantokrator and these fortresses: A. W. Epstein, ‘Middle Byzantine Churches of Kastoria: Dates and Implications’, The Art Bulletin 62 (1980), pp. 198–9; S. Ćurčić, Architecture in the Balkans from Diocletian to Süleyman the Magnificent (London, 2010), p. 381. 116  Major studies on Byzantine fortifications are still few, with initial work done by Foss and Winfield, see n. 132 above, which has since been expanded in the case of Anatolia in the work of: H. C. H. Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm: Defenses against the Turks in Western Anatolia (unpublished master’s thesis, İhsan Doğramacı Bilkent University, 2015), and in the Tabula Imperii Byzantini volumes.

Sources: Problems and Opportunities  35 inaccessible, whether that is due their being located on private land (such as Anchyrous, which is currently part of a hydro-­electric power station) or in pol­it­ic­al­ly troubled regions such as Kosovo or Syria.

Figure 1  South-­east corner Tower of Lopadion, showing the Komnenian brick cloisonné masonry.

Figure 2  South-­western towers of Achyraous, showing the same masonry.

Figure 3  Pantokrator Monastery/Zeyrek Camii: this photo was taken in 2006 before the restoration work covered much of the Komnenian masonry in the late 2010s. Photo copyright Dick Osseman.

36  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 4  Church of Hagioi Anargyroi (SS Kosmas and Damian) in Kastoria. Photo copyright Мико.

Figure 5  Church of Hagios Nikolaos tou Kasnitze, Kastoria. Photo copyright Todor Georgiev.

However, by collating the work of previous scholars with my own personal fieldwork I have been able to gather together a new corpus of archaeological evidence for this study. Though in some cases there remains some doubt as to whether a building could have been constructed in the latter years of Alexios’ reign, or the first years of Manuel’s, a large number of both military and ecclesiastical sites appear datable to John’s reign in both the Balkans and Anatolia, as shown in the maps here. We can therefore analyse the network of fortifications which protected im­per­ ial frontiers, and especially the roads and waterways that held the empire together. Further, the existence of many ecclesiastical buildings in these same areas demonstrates the restoration of ecclesiastical institutions in these territories. As such, we can see material evidence for the provincial life that Bishop Michael Choniates describes in his encomium for Bishop Niketas of Chonai; despite Turkish raids, we read of a vibrant landscape filled with farms, monasteries, and market towns.117

117  Michael Choniates, σωζόμενα I, pp. 50, 64; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 130–1.

0

100

0

100

H U N G A RY

200 miles 200

300 km

Zemun

Ras

Ad

Dubrovnik

ri at

ic

Kotor

Se

a

Bovan Brvenik

Niš

Lipljan

Diokleia

(ancient Roman Miltary Road)

Dyrrachium

Dristra

Prizren

Skopje

Ohrid

Păcuiul lui Soare

Danube R . Dobrich Ruen

Serdica

Philippopolis

Maritsa

Black Sea

Anchialos

Battle of Berrhoia

Debar Constantinople City Fortress John Fortress Battle Modern Site Via Militaris

N

Garvan

Zvečan

Nufărul

Axiopolis

Vidin

Galić

Jeleč

Skodra

Ravanica

Olt R.

Studenica

Braničevo

Ram

. aR Mor a v

Pečenog

Split

Turcoaia

Battle of Haram

Belgrade Šibenik

Isaccea

R.

ROMAN EMPIRE

Adrianople

Constantinople Kastoria

Aegean Sea

Map Four  Balkans, with John’s fortresses noticeably aligning with the location of his Serb and Hungarian campaigns.

200

0

300

0

Black

400 miles 600 km

Sea

N

Kastamon Trebizond

Kibotos Nicaea

Adramytteion

Pegadia

Aegean

Ankyra

Anaia

Iasos

Melitene

Philomelion

Sozopolis

Laodikeia

ME NDI DS

Ikonion

Lake Pousgouse

Trebenna Attaleia Yarbașçandir

S U LTA N AT E

Antiocheia-adCraggum

Kalanoros

C

OF RUM

I IL

Kizilca ehir

Syedra and Iotape

Mediterranean

Sea

s

A CI Korykos Seleukeia

Anazarbos

s

Didyma

. nd e r R Maea

SH

e rat ph Eu

Ephesus

Sea

NI

Amorion

Aizanoi

Philadelphia

Smyrna

Lykos R.

Kotyaion

Akrokos

Ankyrous

s

R.

Sultançayir

s R. ko

Rhyn da

ly Ha

DA

Sidera Sangario s R.

Neakaisareia R.

o

Pegae Lopadion

Gangra

Orontes R .

Ph

Dakibyza

ini kr ilo Nikomedeia

La m

Constantinople

Constantinople Major City City City of John Fortress Fortress of john

Map Eight  John’s Anatolian Fortress Network, demonstrating the proliferation of fortresses along the Rhyndakos and Maeander river valleys to the north-­west, and then along the western and southern coasts, aligning with imperial campaigns and the logistical network needed to supply them.

Sources: Problems and Opportunities  39 From these buildings, we can therefore understand both military strategy and the practical effects of John’s conquests on the landscape, which is then itself a source for John’s reign.118 While some places were close in distance, barriers such as mountains and the culture of the people could made them far removed from John and Constantinople; correspondingly, whether due to physical sea and river connections, or their economic or theological importance, other seemingly far-­ off lands loomed large in John’s policies and were closely connected to him and Constantinople.119 Further, the events of this period were shaped by climate and the weather, with campaigns decided by winters that were either much milder or much harsher than expected.120 Altogether, the combination of these buildings, and their context tell us far more than merely examining history through texts alone, opening a direct window on the means by which John attempted to restore his empire of New Rome.

Conclusion: A New John The John from our texts has been described as ‘almost entirely military: no laws have survived, no patronage, no evidence of personal piety’, and it has been opined that though the evidence is ‘not negligible in quantity, it is somewhat unimpressive in terms of the amount and quality of the information it provides’.121 When examining John’s reign as we would his father’s, his son’s, or indeed the reigns of many medieval rulers by trying to write an account based on historical narratives, this is an entirely reasonable judgement. But, when reading these histories in conjunction with our controls—­court texts, documents, foreign and provincial accounts, and archaeological evidence—­we can find new ways to

118  The primacy of geography in understanding this period is highlighted in: M. Whittow, Social and Political Structures in the Maeander Region of Western Asia Minor on the Eve of the Turkish Invasion (unpublished DPhil thesis, Oxford University, 1987), p. 23; Whittow, The Making of Byzantium, 600–1025 (Berkeley, 1996), esp. pp. 15–37. 119  B. Geyer, ‘Physical Factors in the Evolution of the Landscape and Land Use’, Economic History of Byzantium: From the Seventh through the Fifteenth Century I, ed. A.  Laiou et al. (Washington, DC, 2002), pp. 31–45; A. Avramea, ‘Land and Sea Communications, Fourth–­Fifteenth Centuries’, Economic History of Byzantium: From the Seventh through the Fifteenth Century I, ed. A. Laiou et al. (Washington, DC, 2002), pp. 57–90; M. Lau, ‘The Naval Reform of Emperor John II Komnenos: A Re-­evaluation’, Mediterranean Historical Review 31.2 (2016), pp. 115–38. 120  E. Xoplaki, D. Fleitmann, J. Luterbacher, S. Wagner, J. Haldon, E. Zorita, I. Telelis, A. Toreti, and A. Izdebski, ‘The Medieval Climate Anomaly and Byzantium: A Review of the Evidence on Climatic Fluctuations, Economic Performance and Societal Change’, Quaternary Science Reviews XXX (2015), pp. 1–24, esp. p. 21; J. Preiser-­Kapeller, ‘A Collapse of the Eastern Mediterranean? New Results and Theories on the Interplay between Climate and Societies in Byzantium and the Near East, ca. 1000–1200AD’, JÖB 65 (2015), pp. 195–242; M. Moroni, ‘Michael the Syrian as a Source for Economic History’, Journal of Syriac Studies 3.2 (2010), pp. 141–72. 121 M.  Mullett, ‘Constructing Identities in Twelfth Century Byzantium’, Byzantium Matures: Choices, Sensitivities, and Modes of Expression (Eleventh to Fifteenth Centuries), ed. C.  Angelidi (Athens, 2004), p. 133; Stathakopoulos, ‘Historiographical Essay’, p. 8.

40  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 characterize John and his reign. Beyond the image of a warrior emperor there is a man who, but for his early death, would have been better known as one of the leading patrons of ecclesiastical and civil law or as the emperor who sought to bring the divided branches of Christianity together, in addition to being the emperor who founded one of the most impressive monasteries and hospitals of the medieval world. Further, he left prodigious physical remains on two continents that attest to the endurance of his conquests, with the ecclesiastical buildings among his fort­resses evidencing that his conquests should be seen as far from ‘ephemeral’, but in fact had a lasting impact in those regions where he campaigned. The court texts and documents give us a direct line to the events and workings of his regime in real time, offering us a more immediate view than the principal narratives which were written so much later, while the non-­Byzantine sources allow us to see how these developments were viewed by those outside the empire. With the sources thus re-­evaluated, John’s reign can be investigated from new foundations, though first an introduction to John’s world, its institutions, and its people is in order.

Venice

Genoa

Cherson

Belgrade

Pisa Ad

ri

Ras

at

Diokleia

ic

Se

Rome

a Bari

Naples

k Blac

Serdica Philippoupolis Adrianople

Dyrrachium

Ty r r h e n i a n S e a Corfu

Methone

Ionian

Lemnos Aegean Lesbos Sea Chios

Sea

Didgori 1122

Sea

Tblisi

Kastamon

Constantinople

Gangra

Ankyra

Lopadion

Melitene

Sozopolis

Smyrna

Ikonion

Laodikeia

Attaleia

Trebizond

Neakaisareia

Anazarbos

Edessa

Mosul

Aleppo

Seleukeia

Antioch

M

N

Rhodes

e

d i t e r r a n e a n

Cyprus

Crete

S e a

Tripoli Tyre Acre

Jerusalem 0 0

200 200

400 miles 400

600 km

Map One  Eastern Mediterranean.

Baghdad

Damascus Constantinople Major City City Fortress Battle

Two Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople John was certainly a rare infant when he was crowned Roman Emperor by his father soon after his fifth birthday, but he was far from unique in having his youth influenced by his parents and siblings. The thirty-­one years before Alexios died in 1118 constitute more than half of John’s life, and yet the prominence accorded to his father by historians has led to little consideration of John’s role or agency in these decades. John’s birth, coronation, marriage and accession are certainly the events of note, but it is also in these decades that John gained the skills, and forged the relationships, that would shape his reign. These events are important not only for what they tell us about John’s early life but also for what he learned from them, and the relationships he formed through them. Looking at John during Alexios’ reign opens up a previously limited field of research which enables us to move closer to understanding the next quarter-­century of John’s own sole reign, and especially how his government was formed. This chapter will therefore move chronologically not only through John’s youth and maturity but also through his kith and kin, and will finish with an overview of his government. This will demonstrate that John was a political force long before 1118. Such a conclusion demands a re-­evaluation of how we view John’s so-­called succession and his familial relationships. Further, it will sketch out the key offices in the government of the empire, whom John chose to fill them, and demonstrate that an emperor known mainly for campaigning did not neglect civil affairs: they were in fact the foundation upon which his successful campaigning rested.

An Imperial Education John Komnenos was born in the purple around 3 a.m. on Monday 13 September 1087.1 Archbishop Theophylact of Ohrid delivered a prose encomium to Alexios the following year, congratulating him on the birth of his son, and urging the

1 The KC tells us John was born ‘at the tenth hour of night’, thus between 3 and 4 a.m., while the coins produced for John’s fourth birthday, baptism, and coronation confirm the 1087 birth-­year, see: KC, Chronik 5.3, p. 55; K. Varzos, Hē genealogia tōn Komnēnōn I (Thessalonike, 1984), p. 204; DOC, pp. 224–6, 228, 231; Stanković, ‘John II Komnenos before the year 1118’, pp. 16–17.

Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143. Maximilian C. G. Lau, Oxford University Press. © Maximilian C. G. Lau 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198888673.003.0003

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  43 emperor to crown John as co-­emperor immediately.2 Alexios prudently waited until November 1092 for the young John to survive infancy, but having done so he was baptized in Hagia Sophia by Patriarch Nicholas III Grammatikos, and then crowned by his father.3 One unique example of a coin produced to celebrate the occasion survives, displaying a beardless John in imperial regalia and holding the gospels on one side, and his imperial parents Alexios and Eirene on the other, much like a modern commemorative coin.4 John’s sister Anna described the new-­ born in her Alexiad as dark-­skinned, with a broad forehead, somewhat thin cheeks, a nose that was neither snub nor aquiline, darkish eyes, and a vigorous dis­pos­ition.5 William of Tyre also recorded his swarthy appearance, while in the 1152 Acts of the Eleousa Monastery on the Strumitza river (a tributary of the River Struma that flows through modern North Macedonia) he is referred to as ‘τοῦ Μαυροϊωάννου’ (Black-­John), though this is not particularly evident in either of the two detailed visual depictions of him as an adult (see figs. 83 and 84).6 His ‘vigorous disposition’, on the other hand, stayed with him throughout his life, as attested in both the rhetorical sources that praise his untiring nature, and in the fact that barely a year went by without a military campaign away from Constantinople.7 Of his childhood we have only fragments, and thus unstable suppositions as to what effect contemporary events may have had upon him. The Muses tell us that John grew up in the midst of one of the greatest crises the empire had known, ‘troubled all around by the barbarians that were causing distress and trying to constrict the children of Rome in their length and breadth’, while he and his father had been equally threatened by enemies within the empire, and indeed members of their own family.8 Though traditionally assumed to be a strength, Alexios’ use 2  Theophylact of Ohrid, ‘Λόγος εἰς τὸν αύτοκράτορα κῦριν Ἀλέξιον τὸν Κομνηνόν’, Théophylacte D’Achrida Discours, Traités, Poésies, ed. P. Gautier (Thessalonike, 1980), p. 235. 3  Though Zonaras implies his baptism and coronation were all immediate, the Neapolitan archive gives the exact date of 1092: Zonaras, 18.22, p. 739; Regii neapolitani archivi monumenta edita ac illustrata V, ed. A. Spinelli (Naples, 1858), nos. 457–8, 462, 464–7. See: Frankopan, Call From the East, p. 79, n. 40. 4  E.  DeWald, ‘The Comnenian Portraits in the Barberini Psalter’, Hesperia 13 (1944), pp. 82–4, ­citing W.  Wroth, Imperial Byzantine Coins in the British Museum vol. II (London, 1908), p. 544, n. 1. Since it does not appear in a major coin catalogue, Magdalino has made the suggestion to me that it may be a commemorative medal rather than a true coin. 5  AK, 6.8, p. 185. This description has traditionally been viewed as disparaging, see below, cf. Stanković, ‘John II Komnenos before the year 1118’, pp. 15, 19–21. 6  William of Tyre, 15.23, p. 706; L.  Petit, ‘Le monastère de Notre-­Dame de Pitié en Macédoine’, IRAIK 6 (1900), p. 30. The 1152 source mentions a visit by Alexios in 1106, assumedly with the eighteen-­year-­old John in attendance, as his twins were born in Balabista shortly after, see below, and cf. Stanković, ‘John II Komnenos before the year 1118’, p. 18. A satire by Theodore Prodromos is also addressed to ‘Emperor John the Black’, but it is impossible to know whether that title was included by the author or added to the manuscript later. See: Eideneier, Ptochoprodromos, I, p. 99; Bouchet, Satires et parodies, p. 10. On visual depictions, see: M. Lau, ‘John II Komnenos (1118–1143)’, Encyclopedia of Medieval Royal Iconography 2 (2022), pp. 669–78, https://doi.org/10.3390/encyclopedia2020046. 7 See: Prodromos, XVI, lines 38 and 65, in addition to occasions when Prodromos begs the emperor to follow a victory with a stay in Constantinople so he may acclaim his achievements, advice seemingly never followed: Prodromos, IXγ lines 11 and 16; Poem Xγ line 17; Poem XI, line 219. 8  Muses I, lines 282–6.

44  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 of his family in government also embedded a crucial flaw into the regime: ambitious family members could be tempted to become emperor themselves, and could be ideally placed in government to potentially succeed.9 Notably in 1094 when John was six, his cousin, also named John, conspired against Alexios.10 Though quashed, such challenges foreshadowed John’s own family troubles, though we shall see at the end of this chapter how it was that John attempted to mitigate this threat through personnel management. How much these challenges from foreign powers or rebellious relatives actually affected John in his early years is impossible to know, though from our knowledge of the youth and education of other imperial princes we can presume that he was not ignorant of this opposition to his father’s rule while he studied a curriculum that was described by Italikos as ‘the imperial science’.11 Though we have only a few incidental mentions of John’s own childhood, from the education of other twelfth-­century princes we know that John would likely have learned of  past rulers, good and bad, from antiquity onwards, while also studying ­scripture and Christianity, rhetoric, and perhaps above all, weapons training and ­military strategy.12 Kaisar Nikephoros Bryennios’ History specifically details the military skills learned by John’s father and uncle, telling us they were trained in weaponry (spear, shield, and bow), riding, how to line up in battle-­array, place an ambush, take up position in good time, and how to build a palisaded camp.13

9 G.  Ostrogorsky, ‘Observations on the Aristocracy in Byzantium’, DOP 25 (1971), p. 10; A.  Kazhdan and S.  Ronchey, L’aristocrazia bizantina: dal principio dell’XI alla fine del XII secolo (Palermo, 1997); J.-C.  Cheynet, Pouvoir et contestations à Byzance 963–1210 (Paris, 1990), p. 359; P.  Magdalino, ‘Byzantine Snobbery’, The Byzantine Aristocracy, IX to XIII Centuries, ed. M.  Angold (Oxford, 1984), pp. 58–78; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 180–91; Magdalino, ‘Innovations in Government’, Alexios I Komnenos-Papers, pp. 146–9; Magdalino, ‘Innovations in Government’, p. 165; Magdalino, ‘The Empire of the Komnenoi’, p. 613; Angold, Political History, pp. 23, 148–9; P.  Frankopan, ‘Kinship and the Distribution of Power in Komnenian Byzantium’, English Historical Review 495 (2007), pp. 1–34; Frankopan, Call from the East, pp. 57–86. 10  AK, 7.7–8, pp. 252–3, 9.6–9, pp. 271–8, 14.7, p. 451; Frankopan, ‘Kinship and the Distribution of Power’, pp. 1–27; Frankopan, Call from the East, pp. 79–86. 11 ‘βασιλικὴ ἐπιστήμη’, Italikos 44, p. 283. Likewise, Anna wrote about kingship being a science, AK, 3.4, p. 96; P. Magdalino, ‘Basileia: The Idea of Monarchy in Byzantium, 600–1200’, The Cambridge Intellectual History of Byzantium, ed. A. Kaldellis and N. Siniossoglou (Cambridge, 2017), p. 595. 12 Ibid. This includes Theophylact of Ohrid’s advice for Anna’s original intended, the young Constantine Doukas. See: R. Ayala, ‘Teofílacto de Ochida y la Educación Real’, Byzantion Nea Hellas 31 (2012), pp. 71–89. Cf. D.  Angelov, ‘Emperors and Patriarchs as Ideal Children and Adolescents. Literary Conventions and Cultural Expectations’, Becoming Byzantine: Children and Childhood in Byzantium, ed. A. Papaconstantinou and A-­M. Talbot (Washington, DC, 2013), pp. 105–6; H. Coufalová, ‘Youths in Komnenian Literature’, Graeco-­Latina Brunensia 20 (2015), pp. 3–17. 13  Italikos 44, pp. 282–4; Nikephoros Bryennios, Histoire, p. 75, Cf. Eustathios of Thessalonike, Eustathii Thessalonicensis: Opera minora, ed. P.  Wirth, CFHB 32 (Berlin, 2000), p. 285. Even in Prodromos’ contemporary mock-­epic the Katomyomachia, the mouse-­king proclaims to his people that from his earliest years he has directed his attentions to acquiring the virtues of the best military leader; he has used the lance, sword, and shield, ridden a horse and made himself agile and nimble. See: H.  Hunger, Der byzantinische Katz-­Mäuse-­Krieg. Theodore Prodromus, Katomyomachia (Graz, 1968), lines 160–80.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  45 For John specifically, an oration by Basilakes tells us that his military training was complemented by athletic pursuits and games, though he gives no details.14 John’s own successor, the emperor Manuel, was especially devoted to polo, which he could well have picked up from his father, but it is especially likely that Basilakes is referring here to John’s lifelong passion for hunting.15 This is revealed particularly by the planned assassination plot in the hunting park of the Philopation in 1119, John’s death while hunting in Cilicia in 1143, and indeed in Prodromos’ poem for John’s son Alexios where he details hunting equipment among other possessions needed for a prince.16 As for the results of his academic learning, the Pantokrator typikon is the only text that purports to have been written by John personally, and though its lost opening section robs us of further insights, what remains attests to a successful education, together with a deep faith, and a strong concern that the souls of his family and leading officials be honoured.17 John’s faith included a particular devotion to the Virgin Mary, the Theotokos. This may have begun during his childhood in the Blachernai Palace, home to the renowned Marian Shrine of the same name. A procession to the Chalkoprateia church started from here every week on Friday, where prayers for intercession were said to the Theotokos.18 This devotion appears to have been shared with his wife, who is likely to have been educated at a convent to the Theotokos at Veszprémvölgy, and we see a clear example of this in their dedication of the second church of the Pantokrator complex to the Virgin Eleousa (‘Showing Mercy’).19 Numerous ceremonies are detailed to take place here in the typikon, together with a separate ceremony whereby the famous Marian Hodogetria (‘She who shows the Way’) icon was to be placed at John’s tomb, and fifty gold coins shared between all those present, in perpetuity.20 The couple named their eldest daughter Maria, and the Virgin appears on the majority of John’s coinage. Our histories and court sources relate how John called out to the Virgin for aid at the battle of Berroia in 1122 and the siege of Gangra in 1135, and placed a Marian icon in the chariot at his triumph for the capture of Kastamon in 1133.21 Coupled with this piety, the Muses tell us that the crucial lesson John learned was always to 14 Basilakes, Or. 2, p. 87. 15  JK, pp. 263–4. 16  Prodromos, XLIV, lines 69–80. Cf. below for 1119 and Chapter Nine for 1143. 17  See Chapter Ten, cf. Pantokrator Typikon, pp. 235–62, specifically p. 234; A. Gkoutzioukostas, ‘Byzantine Officials in the Typikon of the Monastery of Christ Pantokrator in Constantinople’, The Pantokrator Monastery, ed. Kotzabassi (Berlin, 2013), pp. 71–81. 18  The Blachernai Shrine was founded in the fifth century by Emperor Leo I and his Empress Verina, and expanded by Justin and Justinian in the sixth, see: B.  Pentcheva, Icons and Power (University Park, PA, 2006), pp. 12, 145. 19  M. Jeffreys, ‘Piroska and the Komnenian Dynasty’, Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople, ed. M. Sághy and R. Ousterhout (Budapest, 2019), pp. 113–15. 20  Pantokrator Typikon, pp. 81–3; Pentcheva, Icons and Power, p. 165. 21  See Chapters Four and Six.

46  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 hold true to ‘virtue’, ἀρετή, with its connotations of courage and manliness that this carries in Greek.22 Such courage was called for when John was just ten. In April 1097, he was held hostage outside Constantinople by the leaders of the First Crusade to guarantee Alexios’ good faith.23 Cynically, one could point out that Alexios had fathered two other sons by this time, but a more generous reading of the situation would see the ten-­year-­old John being given his first chance to contribute towards his father’s delicate diplomatic initiatives. John was held by Baldwin, the nobleman who would be king of Jerusalem from 1118, making the young John personally familiar with the crusader rulers of the Levant from this impressionable age, and perhaps affecting his later priorities. Speculation aside, the other notable event that same year which shaped John’s later life was the capture of a young Turkish prisoner at the siege of Nicaea. Of a similar age to John, this boy became John’s constant companion, an ‘inseparable friend and near rival in games and early military training’.24 He was to be John’s future megas domestikos of east and west, John Axouch. Further inferences concerning John’s early life are less sure: Choniates tells us that his mother Eirene considered him ‘rash, pleasure-­loving and weak in character’ compared to her daughter Anna’s husband, Nikephoros Bryennios (albeit a man twenty-­five years John’s senior). Even if we are sceptical of Choniates here, the Muses pronounce that youth up until the age of thirty is ‘sullied and pleasure loving’, but on reaching the age of thirty-­one, as John had in 1118, one would ‘come under the control of yourself ’ and are worthy of rule.25 Therefore, there may be some hint of truth in Choniates’ account; even if the Muses are following a common trope from Mirrors for Princes texts here, they are using it in a very specific way to highlight John’s exact age, and to allude to major changes in John’s demeanour through his third decade. Such a hint is an intriguing one considering that John had been a hostage at age ten, and was then married at eighteen, a father of twins and a commander of soldiers shortly after, and then had his father’s Norman nemesis, Bohemond of Taranto and Antioch (c.1054–1111), swear him allegiance at twenty-­one. These events of 1105–8 not only marked John’s coming of age, and thus his emergence as a political figure with agency in his own right, but also shaped the diplomatic situation bequeathed to him by Alexios.

22  Muses I, line 253, and onwards; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 27. 23  Albert of Aachen, Historia Ierosolimitana History of the Journey to Jerusalem, ed. S. Edgington (Oxford, 2007), p. 84; William of Tyre, Book 2, 11.10–12.17, pp. 174–6. 24 Basilakes, ‘Λόγος εἰς τὸν σεβαστὸν καὶ μέγαν Δομέστικον’, Orationes et Epistolae, p. 87; NC, pp. 9–10; p. 79.24–9. 25  Muses I, lines 178 and 205–6, respectively.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  47

Pawn Becomes Knight John’s marriage was at once wholly political, arranged in order to safeguard im­per­ial security against a foreign invasion as shall be discussed in the next chapter, and yet Princess Piroska (Little-­Red) Árpád, renamed Eirene in the empire, was also the love of John’s life.26 In the introduction to the Pantokrator typikon, John addresses God with a strikingly personal declaration: for through thy help I found someone to share [the Pantokrator’s] planning, construction, and completion, my partner and helper in life, though before the complete establishment of the task she left this world by thy mysterious decision and by her departure cut me apart and left me torn in two.27

Such a profession of love and loss is all but unique from a medieval ruler, and there is no evidence that John had any mistresses or even took another partner after she died.28 Though we cannot know whether this depth of feeling developed immediately, Anna tells us that John and Piroska-­Eirene had their first children, twins named Alexios and Maria, on campaign in Balabista, in the theme of Macedonia just before the feast of St Demetrios on 26 October 1106.29 She also relates that soldiers commanded by the porphyrogennetoi, thus John and his brothers, were transferred to the authority of Marianos Maurokatakalon in 1108, and so it is on this campaign that John would have had his own retinue at the least, if not his own command.30 All of this testimony comes from Anna, which has led to considerable his­tor­ ic­al debate over whether her account is coloured by some level of personal animosity. Though undoubtedly the birth of imperial twins in the field, and a future heir no less, was a crucial event to record, some scholars have read here a subtle tool of delegitimization. Though these children are given the titles of porphyrogennetoi, being born at Balabista meant they were certainly not born in the Porphyra chamber of the Great Palace of Constantinople, technically making them ineligible for that title.31 Further, despite Bohemond’s oath to John as well as 26  Cf. M. Lau, ‘First Western Empress’, pp. 143–50, and papers in the same volume. 27  Pantokrator Typikon, p. 29; tr. p. 738. 28  M. Jeffreys, ‘Piroska and the Komnenian Dynasty’, Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople, ed. M.  Sághy and R.  Ousterhout (Budapest, 2019), p. 110. 29  AK, 13.7, p. 403; MB 7, pp. 180–2. Cf. the visit of Alexios to the Elousa Monastery on the Strumitza River near Balabista in 1106, and its mention of ‘Black-­John’. 30  AK, 13.7, p. 403. 31  AK, 13.12, p. 422; A. Saeki-­Katakur, ‘The Porphyra Chamber in the Alexiad’, Paper given at the 23rd International Congress of Byzantine Studies, 25th August 2016 (Unpublished, from a copy given to me by the author, 2016), p. 4; Stanković, Komnini u Carigradu, pp. 99–106, 229–32; Stanković, ‘John II Komnenos before the year 1118’, pp. 18–20; Vilimonović, Structure and Features, pp. 329–30, 334. Contra: Neville, Anna Komnene, p. 142.

48  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 to Alexios at the Treaty of Devol in 1108, Anna’s husband, Kaisar Nikephoros Bryennios, comes across as the hero for persuading Bohemond to accept peace.32 Seeing criticism of John in Anna’s words of praise for her husband is perhaps an overly harsh reading, but this other evidence, and the absence of John from the rest of the Alexiad, certainly points to some of the challenges John faced in the following decade from his own family.33 He would, however, face these challenges alongside his wife and eventual eight children, as the twins Alexios and Maria were joined by Andronikos, Anna, Isaac, Theodora, Eudokia, and Manuel between 1106 and 1118.34 These names are the same as John’s own siblings, bar only his eldest son who shared his father’s name, and so it is intriguing that at the moment when his familial relations seemed most fraught, he also named his children after those siblings who arrayed themselves against him. This conflict first arose during their father’s illness in 1112, and though the nature of that conflict was perhaps not as bitter as has previously been supposed, it was the struggle that secured the future of John’s rule as sole emperor.

The Politics of Transition and the Struggle for Sole Rule In 1112, Alexios fell gravely ill. Fearing he was dying, he gave control over the government to his wife Eirene Doukaina, who in turn ‘entrusted him [Nikephoros Bryennios] to pass judgement and he pronounced justice like the emperor’.35 Zonaras continues that ‘it was planned that all the power and the government of the empire be transferred to Eirene [Doukaina] after the passing of her husband, so that even he [John] should be subject to her’.36 Such a pronouncement did not disinherit John: he remained in his position as co-­emperor, but where he had until now been second only to his father, now he would continue to be second, but instead to his mother, and by implication her choice of delegates, after his father’s death. In response to this, Zonaras tells us that this ‘scheme was in­toler­ able to him [John] since he had already reached manhood and long since been joined in marriage to the daughter of the Hungarian ruler and become father of children’.37 Though Alexios was to recover from this illness, his brush with death revealed to John that it was not a given that he would inherit the unrestricted authority of his father, but might instead be forced to rule alongside another, as

32  Stanković, ‘John II Komnenos before the year 1118’, p. 19; Vilimonović, Structures and Features, esp. p. 334. 33  Magdalino has previously interpreted the Alexiad as neutral towards John on the whole, though an unknown person is accused of being the cause of the disease afflicting Alexios, which may be a reference to John, see: Magdalino, ‘Pen of the Aunt’, p. 21, citing AK, 14.4, p. 442. Vilimonović argues that the lack of information we have on John before 1118 is due to a deliberate act of damnatio memoriae by Anna, Vilimonović, Structure and Features, esp. p. 308. 34 Varzos, Genealogia, nos. 74–81. 35  Zonaras, 18.26, p. 754. 36  Zonaras, 18.24, p. 747. 37  Zonaras, 18.24, p. 748.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  49 many previous younger emperors had done. It should be emphasized that John’s mother and siblings did not intend to murder him, or even to completely exclude him from power, only to force him to accept a power sharing arrangement. This conflict was nevertheless serious and could well have escalated: we are told that John approached senators and family members to secure their support for his sole rule, while his mother sent spies to watch him and attempt to prevent him from contacting further supporters.38 We are not told why exactly Eirene was so against her son taking over, aside from Choniates’ statement regarding Eirene’s disapproval of her son John’s supposedly wild youth. Many scholars have suggested that Eirene Doukaina could have been partial to upholding the Doukas family interest in the imperial office, and that despite Alexios’ reign the dynastic struggles of the eleventh century remained below the surface.39 On a practical level, Eirene would also have known that she was would likely lose all her personal power at Alexios’ death, and thus she could only maintain her own position by weakening John’s. By doing so, she would also gain the position previously held by Alexios’ mother, Anna Dalassena, whom Anna portrays as the major power behind Alexios during his reign.40 Consequently from 1112, a war of influence was waged between those who supported John on the one side, and those supporting his mother on the other, with the prize being whether John would gain sole authority on his father’s death, or whether he would be forced to share it. To win this struggle, John was to bring together a dominant coalition of supporters, comprising family members, officials, the church, and the people of Constantinople. Though Zonaras provides some details, we can further reconstruct the composition of this coalition by examining John’s government in 1118, through the trial of Bishop Eustratios of Nicaea, and finally the events surrounding Alexios’ death. Doing so demonstrates that John used the years 1112–18 to forge a broad coalition, while those opposed to him were only supported by more niche interest groups. To begin with, the family members and senators that Zonaras tells us John approached. He specifically states that John secured support ‘with oaths’ that they would accept none other as Autokrator after Alexios.41 Though we should not forget John’s wife, beyond her his two most prominent supporters were his brother Isaac, his ‘strongest supporter within the Komnenian family’ and John’s childhood companion and brother-­in-­arms, John Axouch.42 These two men would respectively head the civilian and military administration under John; Axouch’s 38  Zonaras, 18.24, pp. 748–9; NC, pp. 4–8; Michael Glykas, Michaelis Glycae Annales, CSHB 21, ed. I. Bekker (Bonn, 1836), Part 4, p. 622, lines 15–19. 39  Angold, ‘An Afterword’, Alexios I Komnenos-Papers (Belfast, 1996), p. 406; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 185–7, 201–2; Stanković, Komnini u Carigradu, passim; Vilimonović, Structures and Features, pp. 67, 163–242, 265. 40 E.g. AK 3.8, 5–7, pp. 106–8. L. Garland, Women and Power in Byzantium AD 527–1204 (London, 1999), pp. 185–92. 41  Zonaras 18.24, p. 749. 42  NC, p. 6; Rodriguez Suarez, ‘Manuel’s Latinophile Uncle?’, p. 183.

50  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 role is clear-­cut, his title being megas domestikos, the now traditional title for head of the army, though his role would evolve later in the reign.43 It is unlikely that Axouch replaced anyone in this role: the last megas domestikos we have on record was Alexios’ brother Adrian Komnenos, who died in 1105, suggesting that the responsibilities as head of the army were perhaps exercised by John himself in the intervening years, as his campaigns in the Balkans in the last years of Alexios’ reign indicates, as shall be seen in the next chapter44 Choniates notes that members of the imperial family had to dismount out of respect for Axouch, and that he was not only a good general but also helpful, generous, and popular.45 Isaac too, is likely to have been promoted in title as he is named sebastokrator by John, having been kaisar and thus equal to Nikephoros Bryennios and below John’s brother Andronikos before this.46 More will be said on Andronikos shortly, but for Isaac, his position is presented to us by Choniates as being John’s ‘almost equal’ on the throne, at table, and at acclamations.47 Such a position echoes Choniates’ invented address of the dying Alexios to his wife Eirene as the ‘sharer of his empire’, and with Isaac not appearing anywhere but Constantinople in the next decade we can conclude that Isaac ruled in the capital whenever John was on campaign, and thus exercised the powers held by their mother Eirene under Alexios.48 Such a role is backed up by Anna’s own description of the role of sebastokrator, first created back in the 1080s for Alexios’ brother (also called Isaac) in light of the fact that Alexios’ brother-­in-­law, Nikephoros Melissenos, was already kaisar and Alexios wished to give his brother a higher position, one that Anna likens to a ‘second emperor’, having the right to wear a crown like the kaisar.49 It should be noted again here that Anna was writing under Manuel, having seen how John and his brother Isaac had ruled together. In addition to sebastokrator, Isaac continued to use the title porphyrogennetos, and so with these titles Isaac was clearly favoured above all others, stepping into what had been his mother’s role on behalf of his brother.50 Thus, with Isaac and Axouch, John had two reliable and competent deputies for civil and military administration on which to build 43  See Chapter Ten. 44  NC, p. 6; death attested in the typikon of the monastery of Christos Philanthropos: M. Kouroupou and J.-Fr. Vannier, ‘Commémoraisons des Comnènes dans le typikon liturgique du monastère du Christ Philanthrope (ms. Panaghia Kamariotissa 29)’, REB 63 (2005), n. 24. 45  NC, p. 9. 46  Though unnoticed by Varzos and most scholarship, which tends to assume that both Andronikos and Isaac were named as sebastokratores by Alexios, both Zonaras and the Kecharitomene typikon name Isaac’s title as kaisar in the early twelfth century. See: Zonaras, 18.24, p. 748; ‘Kecharitomene: Typikon of the Empress Irene Doukaina Komnene for the Convent of the Mother of God Kecharitomene in Constantinople’, tr: R. Jordan, Byzantine Monastic Foundation Documents: A complete translation of the surviving founders’ typika and testaments, ed. J. Thomas, A. Hero, and G. Constable (Washington, DC, 2001), p. 701. 47 ‘ἐξ ἴσου κοινωνόν’, NC, pp. 8–9. 48  NC, p. 7; tr. p. 5. 49 ‘δεύτερον βασιλέα’, AK, 3.4, p. 95. 50 ‘Σκέποις Κομνηνὸν ᾿Ισαάκιον, Κόρη | τὸν σεβαστοκράτορα πορφύρας κλάδον’. The seal has been provisionally dated to 1125: Spink Auction 127, Byzantine Seals from the collection of George Zacos, Part 1 (London, 1998), p. 83; ODB, p. 1862.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  51 the rest of his government in 1118. That one of them was his brother, and the other his childhood friend and companion-­in-­arms (despite his Turkish background), is representative of how from the top-­down John gained supporters from a mix of blood family members and talented outsiders.51 Such a policy may be hinted at in the Muses as the narrator advises John to have both old and young councillors.52 Though John was wholly successful in securing the support of his brother Isaac, Zonaras tells us that in 1112 he was opposed by their other brother, Andronikos, but we are not told why.53 There is a hint he may have had more sympathy with those opposed to John in the Alexiad, as Anna mentions that Andronikos was the dearest of her brothers.54 Despite this, Andronikos was seemingly invisible in the events of 1118. He retained his sebastokrator and porphyrogennetos titles, but in contrast to Isaac’s situation, there is no explicit mention of his titles being renewed by John; Andronikos is, however, lauded for fighting alongside his brother with distinction a few years later in 1122, and at his death in 1130 he is eulogized as ‘John’s counsellor, brother and warrior’.55 Accordingly, we must either conclude that John had brought Andronikos to his side by 1118 and kept him on in a mainly military capacity in the field, or that, like Nikephoros Bryennios, he was part of the opposing camp but did not commit to contesting John’s rule that strongly, and so retained his position but without new honours or responsibilities. Significantly, Nikephoros Bryennios’ continued support for John also deprived Eirene and Anna of a male would-­be emperor figure for their faction, robbing it of much of its legitimacy, in addition to Nikephoros’ value as a respected general and statesman. More will be said about Nikephoros when the question of resistance to John is addressed more fully 51  Komnenian government has often been viewed as empire of ‘household government’, whereby the Komnenoi clan had a nepotistic monopoly on the highest offices of state, and that family relations trumped ability. This will be discussed further below, but it is a common view presented since at least the 1970s. For just a few examples of many, see: A.  Kazhdan, Sotsialnyi sostav gospodsvuyushkego klassa Vizantii XI–­XII vv. (Moscow, 1974); Commentary of this in: P. Magdalino, ‘Byzantine Snobbery’, pp. 58–78; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 180–7; Magdalino, ‘Innovations in Government’, p. 165; Magdalino, ‘The Empire of the Komnenoi’, p. 613; Angold, Political History, pp. 23, 148–9; Ostrogorsky, ‘Observations on the Aristocracy’, p. 10; J. Haldon, ‘Provincial Elites, Central Authorities: Problems in Fiscal and Military Management in the Byzantine State’, The Province Strikes Back: Imperial Dynamics in the Eastern Mediterranean, ed. B.  Forsén and G.  Salmeri (Helsinki, 2008), p. 173; Haldon, Byzantium: A History (Stroud, 2000), p. 181. In more recent work, Magdalino has, however, nuanced his position slightly to one whereby Alexios instituted a ‘quasi-­privatization of state resources for the benefit of his extended family’, Magdalino, ‘Basileia’, p. 594, that non-­family members holding offices were included even if they were not part of the sebastoi elite; Magdalino, ‘Court Society and Aristocracy’, A Social History of Byzantium, ed. J. Haldon (Oxford, 2009), p. 226, and equally that with skilled management, that this system could be a positive, even though it proved fatal to both the Komnenoi and the empire after Manuel’s death: Magdalino, ‘The Komnenoi’, pp. 657–63. 52  Muses I, lines 72–98. 53  Zonaras, 18.24, pp. 748–9. 54  AK, 15.4, p. 475. 55 ‘ὤλετο σοι σύμβουλος ἀδελφεος ἠδὲ μαχητής’, Prodromos, II, line 47; Zonaras, 18.24, p. 749. Andronikos’ titles are attested in: Zonaras 18.24, p. 748; Prodromos II (the title), Pantokrator Typikon p. 43; AK, 13.7, p. 403, ‘Kecharitomene’, p. 701; Kouroupou and Vannier, ‘Commémoraisons des Comnènes)’, p. 46.

52  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 below, but between his other brother and brother-­in-­law, John had two senior, able field commanders for his campaigns. These two were supplemented by two of Alexios’ senior generals and officials, Eustathios Kamytzes and Eumathios Philokales, both of whom are com­mem­or­ ated in the Pantokrator typikon of 1136.56 Kamytzes had been chartoularios of the stable in 1094 and doux of Nicaea from 1112 onwards, while Philokales had ori­ gin­al­ly been doux of Cyprus and megas doux (the official in charge of the navy), and then in c.1118 had become praitor of Hellas and the Peloponnesos while retaining his position as megas doux.57 The support of these two men gave John the allegiance of the imperial fleet, together with two of the most important provinces of the empire, and proclaimed that his father’s loyalists were welcome in his regime. It is also noteworthy that the previous praitor of Hellas-­Peloponnesos had been a certain Gregory Kamateros: from an undistinguished family, he became a tax official under Emperor Alexios as a hypogrammateus (c.1094), then a provincial archon of the theme of Ohrid (1100), before being made praitor in addition to being awarded the court title of protokouropalates (before 1105).58 In 1107, he returned to Constantinople to take up the legal-­chancery role of protasekretis and was named nobelissimos.59 He, significantly, was or was soon to be married to another Eirene Doukaina, and so between this marriage and his removal from office it can be assumed he was one of John’s mother’s partisans who, with her, was excluded from government in 1118, though as will be seen, he was not to be out of office for long.60 The vacuum left by the removal from government of the faction opposed to John led to a few household administrative vacancies that John could fill with his own partisans. Choniates tells us that John included two of his cousins in these positions, making Gregory Taronites (son of Maria, sister of Emperor Alexios) protovestiarios, and John Komnenos (son of Eudokia, sister of Emperor Alexios) parakoimomenos.61 Neither of these cousins was connected to the old

56  Eustathios Kamytzes: P. Gautier, ‘Le synode des Blachernes (fin 1094). Étude prosopographique’, REB 29 (1971), p. 218; AK, 14.5, pp. 445–9 and 470; Pantokrator Typikon, p. 44; Eumathios Philokales: DO II, Seal 22.15; F. Miklosich and J. Muller, Acta Diplomatica graeca medii aevi VI (Vienna, 1890), p. 96; Philokales was succeeded in turn as praitor of the Peloponnesos and Hellas by a certain Michael, also Kouropalates: DO II, Seal 8.33; G. Zacos, Byzantine Lead Seals II, ed. J. Nesbitt (Bern, 1984), no. 1010, p. 444. 57  Philokales’ appointment in 1118 is not exactly dated, and so this could have been put into effect by either Alexios or John. As such, this role was either a reward for backing John, or indicative of John’s supporters already holding many key positions. 58  Choniates describes him as being from ‘τὸ δὲ γένος οὐκ ἀριπρεπὴς οὐδ᾽ ἐπίπαν εὐπάρυφος’, NC, p. 9. Hypogrammateus: AK, p. 275; NC, p. 9. Praitor and Protokouropalates Seals: K. M. Konstantopoulos, Bυζαντιακά Μολυβδόβουλλα του εν Αθήναις Νομισματικού Μουσείου (Athens, 1917), no. 94; DO II, no. 8.39. Archon of Ohrid: Theophylaktos of Ohrid, Letters, pp. 369–71. On these seals, the title is listed as ‘protopraitor’, though whether this denotes any special status is unclear. 59  His title is given as protoasekretis by Theophylaktos of Ohrid, and as hypogrammateus by Anna and Choniates, see: Theophylaktos of Ohrid, Letters, p. 571; AK, 9.8, p. 275; NC, p. 9. 60  NC, p. 9; Prodromos, LVII, line 15. 61  NC, p. 9.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  53 Doukas clan, and their appointment adds to the theory that John’s faction consisted of all those not seeking to uphold the Doukas interest in the imperial title.62 Regarding those in that camp, Anna speaks with affection of her sister Maria, who was married to Nikephoros Katakalon, the son of Constantine Euphorbenos Katakalon, one of Alexios’ most prominent generals.63 Though the father is likely to have died, the exclusion of Nikephoros Katakalon from power is perhaps indicative of his loyalties, though he would later be commemorated in the Pantokrator typikon so he and Maria, like Andronikos, may have come over to John’s side by 1118.64 There is less to be said regarding John’s relationship with his other siblings who survived to adulthood. His remaining sisters, Theodora and Eudokia, were both in convents after the former was widowed and the latter separated from her husband.65 All told, however, John had the majority of his siblings and cousins either supporting him or neutral by 1118, and significantly he had the backing of key figures in the army, navy, and two major provincial governors, with John’s support in the army likely being even greater due to his campaigning years. His early service alongside his father against the Normans was followed by his own command in 1118, though it should not be discounted that he could have been part of other campaigns in the intervening decade. Magdalino posits that Alexios gave ‘the empire’s military elite a collective identity and a degree of group feeling which it had never previously possessed’, likening them to the centralized noblesse d’épée of the French Ancien Régime, rather than the loose, western medieval bar­on­ial aristocracy.66 For men who had fought alongside John and accepted him as Alexios’ co-­ruler for such a long time, it was only natural that they would support his succession. Beyond the military, the support of the church was the other crucial component in John’s coalition of supporters. We can see how he gained this support through the trial of Bishop Eustratios in 1117–18, when rival ecclesiastical factions became associated with succession factions.67 Alexios was again bedridden at this time, so this trial was the next major flashpoint seized upon by both sides in their struggle for influence over the succession. Alexios had long been allied with the patriarchal clergy of the Great Church of Hagia Sophia, strengthening their institutional authority while simultaneously putting that clergy at his disposal, eventually promulgating a reform edict that gave them enhanced authority 62  Angold, ‘An Afterword’, p. 406; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 253–4; Vilimonović, Structures and Features, pp. 67, 163–242, 265. 63  AK, 15.14–16, pp. 499–501; Varzos, Genealogia, no. 33. 64  Pantokrator Typikon, p. 43. 65 John also had two siblings, named Manuel and Zoe, who did not survive infancy, Varzos, Genealogia, nos. 37–40. 66 Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 187–8. 67 Angold, Church and Society, pp. 75–6; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 275; Roskilly, Les évêques et leur autorité, pp. 357–9; M. Trizio, ‘Trials of Philosophers and Theologians under the Komnenoi’, The Cambridge Intellectual History of Byzantium, ed. A.  Kaldellis and N.  Siniossoglou (Cambridge, 2017), pp. 467–8.

54  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 over monasteries and the episcopal synod.68 John’s mother, sister, and brother-­in-­ law furthered Alexios’ links to the patriarchal clergy by hosting theatra: literary salons that were attended by these clerics, where they were acclaimed as heavyweight intellectuals themselves.69 This group has previously been called an ‘Intellectuals Faction’, which in addition to being synonymous with the so-­called Doukai Faction, counted among its members Bishop Eustratios of Nicaea, whom Anna praises for his skills as a dialectician.70 Eustratios was one of Alexios’ most favoured clerics: he had countered Leo of Chalcedon over icons, converted heretics in Philippopolis, and represented the emperor in high profile debates with representatives of the Latin and Armenian churches.71 Nevertheless, these latter debates in 1114 were to sow the seeds for his trial: he argued that Christ reasoned like Aristotle in order to refute the Armenian clergy, using the dialectic methods of his former teacher John Italos who had been tried and judged a heretic in 1082 (and whom Anna condemns vociferously, and ironically considering her praise for Eustratios).72 Further, certain seals of those close to Anna Komnene at this time are aniconical: one for Sebastos George Magganes bears an inscription that states it did not bear a holy image due to piety ( ἐξ εὐλαβείας οὐ φέρειν θεῖον τύπον).73 Eustratios’ Aristotelian argument was borderline Nestorianism, emphasizing Christ’s humanity separate to his divinity, while these seals evoke the iconoclasm that had divided the empire centuries before, spreading through the upper echelon of the court. It is, thus, unsurprising that three years later, bishops demanded Eustratios be tried for heresy as a 68 Angold, Church and Society, pp. 57–60, 70. The date of this reform edict has led to continuous debate among scholars, with 1092 and 1107 both having considerable traction, see: P. Bara, Prelates, Paideia, Politics Observations on the Sources, Background and Legacy of Komnenian Iconoclasm (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Szeged, 2019), esp. pp. 107–9; and P. Magdalino, ‘Reform Edict of 1107’, Alexios I Komnenos I, Papers, ed. M. Mullett and D. Smythe (Belfast, 1996), pp. 199–218. 69  Anna and Nikephoros’ intellectual abilities almost go without saying due to their respective Alexiad and Historia, but regarding their role as patrons Tornikes’ funeral oration for Anna emphasizes how she and Nikephoros made their house ‘a home of the Muses’, and various works, both philosophical, historical and fictional, can be traced to this theatron, see: Nikephoros Bryennios, Nicéphore Bryennios Histoire, tr. P. Gautier (Brussels. 1975), pp. 340–55; Prodromos, LIX; J. Cramer, ‘Xenedemus’, Anecdota graeca e codd. manuscriptis bibliothecarum Oxoniensum vol. 3 (Oxford, 1836), pp. 204–15; P.  Tannery, ‘Théodore Prodrome sur le grand et le petit’, Annuaire des Études Grecques 21 (1887), pp. 104–19. For Rhodanthe and Dosikles, see: E. Jeffreys, ‘Theodore Prodromos, ‘Rhodanthe and Dosikles’, Four Byzantine Novels (Liverpool, 2012), pp. 3–156; E. Jeffreys, ‘A Date for Rhodanthe and Dosikles?’, Der Roman in Byzanz der Komnenenzeit Referate des Internationalen Symposiums an der Freien Universität Berlin, 3. bis 6. April 1998 (Frankfurt am Main, 2000), p. 136; George Tornikes, Georges et Dèmetrios Tornikès, Lettres et Discours, ed. J. Darrouzès (Paris, 1970), p. 267, pp. 283–93; Italikos 15, pp. 146–51; Nilsson, ‘Komnenian Literature’, p. 122. 70  AK, 13.9, p. 457; NC, p, 10; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 194; Stanković, Komnini u Carigradu, p. 205; Vilimonović, Structure and Features, p. 266. 71  AK, 13.8–9, p. 457; P.  Joannou, ‘Der Nominalismus und die menschliche Psychologie Christi. Das Semeioma gegen Eustrate de Nicée’, BZ 47 (1954), pp. 368–78; Angold, Church and Society, p. 73. 72  Ibid. Angold, Church and Society, pp. 50–4. 73 M.  Campagnolo-­Pothitou, ‘«Comme un relent d’iconoclasme» au début du XIIe siècle: le témoignage sigillographique’, L’aniconisme dans l’art religieux byzantin, Actes du colloque de Genève (1–3 Octobre 2009) (Geneva, 2015), pp. 175–92 and 309–11; Roskilly, Les évêques et leur autorité, p. 358.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  55 broadside against him and those associated with him. His accusers were predominantly provincial bishops who had previously had their status reduced by Alexios: his measures against absentee bishops had been designed to crack down on corruption, but in the process had penalized those bishops who had fled conquered sees, particularly in Anatolia.74 These provincial bishops therefore became John’s nat­ural allies against the intellectual patriarchal clergy favoured by his mother, sister, and brother-­in-­law. This trial was their showdown. Though allegedly presided over by Alexios, due to his final illness it is unclear how much involvement the aged emperor actually had. The Patriarch of Constantinople since 1111 had been John IX Agapetos, an apparent compromise candidate as he was both nephew to the Metropolitan of Chalcedon and a renowned preacher and patron of learning who had risen through the patriarchal clerical ranks.75 Both he and Alexios campaigned for Eustratios’ innocence, for which they had to convince twenty-­two bishops from across the empire. Their strategy was to have Eustratios abjure any heretical statements, show contrition for his unintentional errors in doctrine, and present a profession of faith that would reveal his orthodoxy; the patriarchal statement included all of this and recommended that he not only be found innocent but should retain his episcopal position.76 In the vote that followed, it is intriguing that the bishops explained their decisions in writing, and it is especially ­striking that those who voted that Eustratios was innocent all did so with the qualification that this was only because the emperor or the patriarch had pressured them, while those who voted guilty were vociferous in their condemnations.77 Specifically, the bishop of Vize (Βιζύη, Thrace) called on the church fathers and other authorities to damn Eustratios, while the bishop of Leontopolis proposed that Eustratios’ faults be added to the synodikon of Orthodoxy. The Bishop of Ankhialos threatened schism should he stay in office, while the Metropolitan of Paros bluntly stated that even the emperor could not pardon what Eustratios said. ‘Guilty’ votes otherwise came from the metropolitans of Ephesus, Herakleia, Kyzikos, Nikomedeia, Neakaisareia, Apameia, and Sougdouphoulloi, while pressured ‘innocent’ votes came from Sardis, Corinth, Karia, Larissa, Naupaktos, Traianoupolis, Hierapolis, Chonai, Kerkyra, Maroneia, and Leukas. With the votes tied at eleven each, the trial adjourned for a year, during which Bishop Niketas of Herakleia wrote a tract attacking Eustratios and Alexios’ health 74  Magdalino, ‘Reform Edict of 1107’, pp. 199–218; Roskilly, Les évêques et leur autorité, pp. 216–18. 75 Zonaras, 18.25, p. 751; RP II, p. 348 n. 4; Nikephoros Kallistos Xanthopoulos, ‘Historia Ecclesiastica’, PG 147, col. 460, p. 498; Theodore Prodromos, ‘Θεοδώρου τοῦ Προδρόμου λόγος εἰς τὸν πατριάρχην Κωνσταντινουπόλεως Ἰωάννην Θ᾽ τὸν Ἀγαπητόν’, ed. K. Manaphes, Ἐπετηρὶς Ἑταιρείας Βυζαντινῶν Σπουδῶν 41 (1974), pp. 223–42, esp. pp. 239–41; Beck, Kirche und theologische Literatur, p. 631; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 275–6. 76  P.  Joannou, ‘Eustrate de Nicée. Trois pieces inédites de son procès’, REB 10 (1952), pp. 27–9; Angold, Church and Society, p. 74. 77  Joannou, ‘Eustrate de Nicée’, pp. 29–31.

56  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 faded further, such that when the trial reconvened Eustratios was found guilty, and his teachings even added to the synodikon as heresy.78 Though John is not directly mentioned, as a man who had spent much of his life on campaign, he would have empathized with those bishops who had had to vacate their sees due to the insecure situation at the frontiers. Beyond natural affinities, however, the marks of John’s involvement in this dispute can be seen in one of his few surviving pieces of legislation, and his increasing support of exiled clergy throughout his reign. Regarding the former, John’s novel of 1124 affirmed the protections given to bishops away from their sees, hugely benefitting all those clerics affected, and in a prostagma (decree) of John’s cited by Isaac II Angelos in 1192, we know he fined provincial officials who took advantage of the vacancy of a provincial see to seize the land and movable property of a bishop.79 The titular Patriarch of Jerusalem, John VIII, and that of Antioch, John VI/V, were also present in Constantinople in 1117 in an intriguing coincidence that may suggest a link with John that will be discussed in late chapters.80 John would also go on to restore many bishops to their sees through his conquests, and was accompanied on campaign by members of the provincial episcopate.81 Likewise, the Melkite Patriarch Sabbas of Alexandria visited Constantinople at this time, possibly to have his position officially recognized by the emperor according to Krijnie Ciggaar, though with Alexios ill, it may have been John who played a role here.82 Indeed, the whole occasion appears to have provided a venue for the episcopate and John to meet on the eve of Alexios’ death, implying that far more than the fate of Eustratios was discussed. Therefore, we have both general motive for John and these bishops to be allies, and specific incidents of his helping them in future years, while at the same time it is unmistakably the case that the patriarchal clergy were originally on the side of his mother, sister, and brother-­in-­law. The outcome of the trial of Eustratios in favour of the provincials must therefore be seen as a victory for John, and a demonstration that he had a significant part of the Church behind him. 78  Niketas of Heraclea, ‘Discours contre Eustrate de Nicée’, Documents inédits d’ecclésiologie byzantine, ed. J. Darrouzès (Paris, 1966), pp. 276–304; P. Joannou, ‘Le sort des évêques hérétiques réconciliés. Un discours inédit de Nicétas de Serres contre Eustrate de Nicée’, Byzantion 28, 1958, pp. 1–30; MM II, pp. 293–5; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 383–4; Roskilly, Les évêques et leur autorité, p. 358. 79 Mortreuil, Droit Byzantin III, pp. 167–8, 485–6; Jus Graeco-­romanum, pp. 363–5; Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. VII; Darrouzèz, ‘Un décret d’Isaac II Angélos’, esp. pp. 136–7, 139; Roskilly, Les évêques et leur autorité, p. 178. Cf. Chapter Ten. 80 V. Grumel, La Chronologie (Paris, 1958), p. 448; Grumel, Les Regestes des actes du Patriarchat de Constantinople: Vol. 1, Les actes des patriarches (Paris, 1972), no. 1038; Grumel, ‘Les patriarches grecs d’Antioche du nom de Jean (XI et XII siècles)’, Echos d’Orient 32 (1933), pp. 279–99; Grumel, ‘Notes pour l’Oriens Christianus’, Echos d’Orient 33 (1934), pp. 54–5; B. Hamilton, The Latin Church in the Crusader States: The Secular Church (London, 1980), pp. 173–81; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 40. 81 See Chapters Seven and Eight for the restoration of bishops in at least Gangra, Tarsus, Mopsuestia, and Anazarbos, and the presence of Archbishop John IV of Ohrid and a Syrian Jacobite Bishop Basil. 82  K. Ciggaar, ‘An Egyptian Doctor at the Comnenian Court’, Νέα Ῥώμη 2 (2005), pp. 287–302.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  57 It should be emphasized that in early 1118, John’s mother, sister, and brother-­ in-­law appealed only to these more niche interest groups: Doukas family members, Constantinopolitan cultural literati and clerics who cared more for central authority than the agreed orthodoxy. John, in response, was able to forge a broad coalition from non-­Doukas family members in the greater Komnenian clan, provincial clergy and elites not connected with Eirene’s literary theatron, plus, significantly, the army, the navy and at least two of the major provincial governors, and likely more that go unmentioned, due to his frequent campaigning in the provinces. In all, John had brought to himself a significantly more numerous, and more diverse, band of supporters, and it is no surprise that when Alexios finally lay at death’s door, John was ready.

1118: A Long-­Planned Seizure of Power While campaigning in the Balkans in the summer of 1118, John received word that his father was once again very ill, and hurried back to Constantinople.83 On 15 August, the feast of the Dormition of the Virgin, John visited his father at the Palace of the Mangana, and whether by his father’s gift or perhaps by force, he obtained his father’s imperial signet ring.84 John then moved fast to secure his rule: joined by Georgian ambassadors and other supporters, he went to Hagia Sophia to be acclaimed emperor by the clergy and the people while his partisans filled the Mangana district that comprised the easternmost section of Constantinople, and then John rode the short distance to the Great Palace.85 He gained entrance, either by winning over the Varangian Guard according to Zonaras, or indeed lifting the gates right off their hinges according to Choniates, and proceeded to occupy the physical centre of imperial power while his sup­ porters crowded the streets (and indeed a few unsuccessfully attempted to loot the palace).86 Empress Eirene and Kaisar Nikephoros Bryennios had briefly run 83  See Chapter Three. 84  Both Choniates and Zonaras mention the signet ring, and Anna implies the same incident, cf. KC, Chronik 6.1, p. 57; Chronik 14.78, p. 145; Chronik 15.23, p. 162; Chronik 16.26, p. 168; NC, pp. 6–8; Zonaras, 18.28, p. 763; AK, 15.11, pp. 497–502; Treadgold, Middle Byzantine Historians, p. 389. Whether he visited secretly or publicly is also debatable, with Choniates implying as much. 85  The Georgian acclamation is mentioned by Zonaras, while other accounts are less specific about which groups saluted John. The presence of the Georgians is relevant both to alliance negotiations discussed in the next chapter, and because it demonstrated John’s universal rule, whereby foreign nations also hailed him as ecumenical emperor. 86  NC, pp. 7–8; Zonaras, 18.28, p. 762. In addition to being the centre of government, the Great Palace contained the imperial mint and gold store, mentioned by both Choniates in his description of Andronikos’ deposition in 1185 and Mesarites’ account of the attempted coup of John the Fat in 1201. Thus, control over the Great Palace was essential to any hold on government. NC, 347; Nicholas Mesarites, Die Palastrevolution des Johannes Komnenos, ed. A. Heisenberg (Würtzberg, 1907), 25–6; C.  Morrisson, ‘Byzantine Money: Its Production and Circulation’, Economic History of Byzantium: From the Seventh through the Fifteenth Century III, ed. A. Laiou (Washington, DC, 2002), pp. 915–16.

58  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 the government during Alexios’ illness of 1112, so the first priority was to ensure that John’s own people were in place as his father died. Choniates informs us that John’s mother summoned him, but he remained at the palace, and even when Alexios’ funeral took place some days later John again refused to leave, only sending other family members as his representatives; he spent these days rewarding his family and partisans with positions to confirm their support, and taking over the functions of government.87 Choniates relates that Nikephoros Bryennios refused to get involved in any plot against John at this point, and it is only then that he tells us that Eirene Doukaina made one final appeal to Alexios to favour Anna in the succession; a request which he refused in a scene that was almost certainly invented by Choniates (Alexios had trouble breathing and could barely eat due to his throat swelling up in his last days according to Anna).88 In any case, John was now in possession of the imperial administration, and in particular the treasury. He had managed to secure the support of the Church, and given Choniates’ account of the streets being filled with his supporters, a significant proportion of the city’s populace.89 Though the mention of the attempted looting of the palace implies a chaotic scene, John’s handling of the ambitious rioters can be contrasted with his latter-­day namesake, John Komnenos ‘the Fat’ (ὁ παχύς), who in 1200/1201 launched an attempted coup against the ruling Angeloi, during which the Great Palace was actually seized and looted by the mob.90 Choniates may, therefore, be highlighting to his con­tem­por­ ary audience the earlier John’s comparative ability to maintain order, though his description of rioters, along with the drama of the bedside visit, riding across the eastern end of the city, and the problematic entry to the palace, all give the impression that John’s succession may have been somehow in doubt.91 Initially, indeed, Choniates’ description does not come across as flattering to John: from

87  NC, pp. 6–10. 88  AK, 15.11, pp. 495–9. 89  Kaldellis has suggested that the involvement of the people evidences an enduring tradition of republicanism in Byzantium, and that the people were here ratifying the succession, though this ­minim­izes the significance of Hagia Sophia as the place of acclamation: if any power was ratifying John, it was the people in their role as an ecclesiastical congregation. Beihammer also suggests that Zonaras’ account maximizes the role of the church at this moment because Zonaras was a monk when he wrote. A. Kaldellis, The Byzantine Republic: People and Power in New Rome (London, 2015), p. 106; A. Beihammer, ‘Comnenian Imperial Succession and the Ritual World of Nicetas Choniates’ Chronike Diegesis’, Court Ceremonies and Rituals of Power in Byzantium and the Medieval Mediterranean Comparative Perspectives, ed. A. Beihammer, S. Constantinou, and M. Parani (Leiden, 2013), pp. 165–9. One could suggest that John’s accession also aligns with theories of medieval rulership derived from institutional economics, which maintain that successful rulers have tended to come to power through the support and with the consultation of the dominant coalition of secular and ecclesiastical elites. See: D. North, J. Wallis, and B. Weingast, Violence and the Social Orders: A Conceptual Framework for Interpreting Recorded Human History (Cambridge, 2009). 90  NC, p. 1416. 91  Kazhdan and Stanković outline the ‘Komnenian Puzzle’ of whether John was some form of usurper or a defender of his father’s legacy, concluding merely that the truth was in the eye of the beholder. A.  Kazhdan, ‘Zagadka Komninov: Opyt istoriografii’, Vizantijskij Vremennik 25 (1964), pp. 53–98; Stanković, ‘John II Komnenos before the year 1118’, p. 12.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  59 the stealing of the ring and the attempted looting, to missing his father’s funeral, and above all the description of him clinging to the Great Palace, and thus power, ‘like an octopus’.92 Such aspersions however are somewhat misleading: a product of our own modern preconceptions and Choniates’ narrative agenda. The octopus simile may seem unflattering to us, but in contemporary use, monks were likened to octopi which cling to rocks when threatened by predators.93 John, as the octopus, survives by securing the palace until the danger passes, and missing his father’s funeral becomes a sacrifice necessary for him to bring order to the empire. Even if this simile was not being used in this way, Choniates’ dramatic tale, if exciting to read, seems unlikely considering the political manoeuvring that had gone on since 1112: John had had almost six years to plan for this moment, in addition to the fact that it was now almost twenty-­six years since he had even appeared crowned by Christ on imperial coinage.94 The story of his riding around Constantinople to secure his rule, if it did occur, may have been merely con­firm­ation of the control he had already secured; indeed the whole scenario could have been planned for some years, with the personnel, horses, and events already prepared for a stage-­managed take-­over on the highly auspicious date of 15 August.95 Before outlining John’s government and concluding this chapter, the final question to answer is whether there was determined resistance to John from his family. Choniates gives us dramatic accounts of attempted coups d’état, but his narrative has some major flaws.

Were There Plots? Resistance to John 1112–19 In short: both yes and no. To explain further, it is necessary to distinguish firmly between the three supposed coup attempts: at Alexios’ illness in 1112, on his death in 1118, and the alleged Philopation plot in 1119. The first led to John gathering support to prevent a serious threat later, while the second and third occurred most of a year apart with different participants. Historians have tended to group the plots together, in addition to interpreting them radically differently.

92  NC, pp. 7–8; see: Neville, Anna Komnene, pp. 105–7. 93  P. Gautier, ‘Le Typikon de la Théotokos Évergétis’, REB 40 (1982), pp. 50–1; B. Crostini, ‘Spiritual “Encyclopedias” in Eleventh-­ Century Byzantium? Miscellaneous Evidence for an Encyclopedic Outlook’, Encyclopedic Trends in Byzantium? Proceedings of the International Conference held in Leuven, 6–8 May 2009, ed. P. Van Deun and C. Macé (Leuven, 2011), p. 221. With thanks to Kirsty Stewart for ideas relating to this context. 94  Stanković, ‘John II Komnenos before the year 1118’, pp. 20–1. 95  It would also have taken only a matter of minutes to ride between the Mangana Palace and Hagia Sophia, and then again on to the Great Palace, with all these sites in close proximity to each other at the eastern end of Constantinople. Vilimonović also posits that John was likely to ‘have taken all ne­ces­sary measures in order to forestall the concomitant danger’; Vilimonović, Structures and Features, p. 265.

60  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Hill has argued that Anna would have seen herself as perfectly within her rights to challenge her brother. She argues that Anna would have envisioned herself as presiding over the internal administration of the empire while her husband was out on the frontier in the tradition of her mother and grandmother, and that far from the usurpation being proof of her ‘lack of understanding of politics in reality’, this was a coherent and logical move for her to make.96 Choniates’ depiction of a dramatic, contested accession supports this proposition, but considering John’s many years of co-­emperorship and gathering support, the idea that Anna simply failed to take advantage of the moment becomes less probable. Treadgold has assigned more agency to Nikephoros Bryennios, arguing that his position as kaisar and prominent role in the administration of the empire gave him enough strength to challenge John, and it is only due to his qualms about a coup before Alexios’ death, and his inaction while John seized the Great Palace, that he failed.97 Such qualms are dissected by Neville when she stated that ‘it is in light of the emotional distance of armchair antiquarianism, if not orientalist antiquarianism, that Nikephoros becomes portrayed as a passive weakling for failing to murder his brother in law’.98 Kaldellis echoes this point when he summarizes Choniates’ opinions as it being ‘better the cynical but capable Alexios and John than the learned but bitter Anna and sluggish Nikephoros’.99 However, these analyses exclude some details of Zonaras’ testimony together with what we know of John’s relationships with his relatives: the struggle in 1118 was not to replace John with Nikephoros and Anna, but to have John rule alongside them, and this is hinted at by the actions of all the participants. Beginning with John’s mother, though Eirene went so far as to set spies on her son in 1112, and then in 1118 summoned him twice (and perhaps begged her dying husband to do something), her words on learning of the 1119 plot were that she would suffer ‘unending sorrow’ far greater than the pains of childbirth if her son had died.100 Further, in 1110 when Eirene promulgated the Kecharitomene typikon she specifically commemorates ‘basileus Lord John’ alongside his wife ‘despoina Lady Irene’, and then the rest of her children and children-­in-­law.101 Thus, even before the illnesses of her husband, she was more than happy to recognize John’s 96 B.  Hill, ‘Actions Speak Louder than Words: Anna Komnene’s Attempted Usurpation’, Anna Komnene and Her Times, ed. T. Gouma-­Peterson (London, 2000), pp. 48, 52–3, 55–8; supported by: Vilimonović, Structures and Features, p. 68. Contra: J.  Howard-­Johnston, ‘Anna Komnene and the Alexiad’, Alexios I Komnenos-­Papers, pp. 260–301. 97 Treadgold, Middle Byzantine Historians, p. 359. 98 Neville, Heroes and Romans, p. 179. 99  Kaldellis, ‘Meaning of History’, p. 79. 100  NC, pp. 10–12. 101 ‘Kecharitomene’, p. 701. Though John and his line are not commemorated in the Christ Philanthropos typikon, which was also founded by Eirene after Alexios’ death, neither are Anna, Nikephoros Bryennios or any of Eirene and Alexios’ children, only Eirene’s ancestors and the children of Anna, Nikephoros, and Andronikos. Kouroupou and Vannier suggest that Eirene’s other children, including John, may have been commemorated separately, as was the case with Emperor Alexios and perhaps Michael/Athanasius Iasites. See: Kouroupou and Vannier, ‘Commémoraisons des Comnènes du Christ Philanthrope’, pp. 41–69, esp. p. 46.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  61 superior status to the others and to have it commemorated for eternity by the nuns in her convent, and would not casually murder her eldest son.102 As for Nikephoros, he had served alongside John on campaign, possibly since John was still a boy at the end of the eleventh century, and would continue to campaign with John until his death in 1138.103 He appears to have never been out of im­per­ ial favour, and thus together with Eirene’s not entirely antithetical relationship to her son, it is far more likely that the ‘plot’ of first 1112 and then 1118 was ori­gin­ al­ly a proposal for John to rule jointly with Nikephoros and Anna, a system of co-­rule that was common throughout New Roman history to ensure stability.104 John’s rejection of this arrangement and successful takeover of the administration in 1118 was, however, to lead to the so-­called Philopation plot, the details of which are only relayed by Choniates. While John was occupied on his first campaign in Anatolia, Anna, as ‘the ringleader’, is supposed to have plotted with ‘evil men’ to have John killed in the imperial hunting grounds at Philopation outside the walls of Constantinople when he returned, having bribed the guards.105 Again, neither Bryennios nor Eirene got involved, with Choniates quoting Eirene saying not only the words above but also that she would not conspire against a sitting emperor.106 The conspirators were unmasked, and John, at the urging of Axouch, forgave them all, restoring to them the property he had originally confiscated, and reconciling with Anna.107 That this was a very real challenge is corroborated by sources entirely unconnected to the Greek tradition: Michael the Syrian, and the Syriac Anonymous Chronicle. They state that John’s brother, sister, and mother had challenged him in an entry dated before May 1119, with the Anonymous Chronicle noting that these family members were attempting to prevent him from taking his place as em­peror.108 With no evidence that Michael or the anonymous author of the Chronicle had read Anna’s words (and with both texts predating Choniates), this note should be taken seriously, though the lack of detail in these Syriac accounts

102  NC, p. 5. Vilimonović takes the opposing view, arguing that Eirene never disregarded the pol­ it­ical fortunes of her ‘genuine family’, stating that ‘Emotions and motherly love were not at play in these years . . . were they ever in vogue when mingled with the crude political interest’; Vilimonović, Structures and Features, p. 67. Given that Eirene been married to Alexios since 1078, and had had nine children with him, the idea that these were not her ‘genuine family’ by 1118 seems overstated, particularly given her actions in summoning John twice and supporting him at the time of the 1119 ‘plot’. I agree that Eirene wished to maintain personal power for herself and her favoured daughter and son-­in-­law, and therefore the Doukas side of the family, but this was as part of a power settlement that included John, rather than one that necessitated murdering her eldest son. 103  Italikos 14 and 16, pp. 142–4 and 152–4; he contracted a disease in Syria, though died in the capital: AK, Prologue 1.4, p. 8. He too is commemorated in the Pantokrator Typikon, p, 43. 104  Of ninety-­four ‘senior’ emperors reigning between 330 and 1453, fifty had at least one co-­ruler. Cf. propositions regarding Komnenian government above. 105  NC, p. 10; Alexios had held court here, hearing petitions at appointed hours, for some time after his illness according to Zonaras, so it would have been a familiar haunt for John; Zonaras, 18.26, p. 753. 106  NC, pp. 10–12. 107  Ibid., p. 11. 108  Mich. Syr. 15.12, p. 204; tr. p. 632; Chron. 1234, p. 63.

62  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 prevents us from rejecting other possibilities entirely. The identity of the brother is an especially intriguing question: this could hint at Andronikos’ continued involvement in Eirene and Anna’s faction, or Michael could be referring to Nikephoros as John’s brother-­in-­law, but either way this confirms that John was challenged in 1118, though it does not corroborate any details of the Philopation plot. No emperor would have let things lie if Anna was truly murderously bent on his destruction: it is thus important to note that John allowed her all titles and possessions, while her husband remained as kaisar. Despite this, considerable debate has emerged over whether Anna was ostracized after these events, with one camp arguing that despite her titles and possessions she suffered what was essentially an internal exile in the Kecharitomene convent for the rest of her life.109 At the other end of the scale, doubt has been placed over whether this coup occurred at all or was fabricated by Choniates, especially given Anna’s extensive cultural contributions and the fact that her husband’s political career con­tinued.110 Some historians have softened the idea of internal exile by positing that it cannot have been much of a punishment.111 Others have pointed out that there is no evidence that Anna did not continue to reside at her family oikos until at least the death of her husband; her funeral oration remarked that her home with Nikephoros was ‘a home of the Muses’ and contained no references to any sort of monastic cell.112 The only evidence that connects this plot to Anna is from Choniates, who even states that she was the main instigator in 1119. Explanations for Choniates’ account have ranged from some form of gender bias, or on account of his wider purpose to explain the fall of Byzantium through the personal lives of his characters, rather than due to any actual evidence in his possession.113 In fact, Choniates contradicts himself when he notes that ‘evil-­ working men rallying around 109 Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 16; Diehl, Byzantine Empresses, p. 191; Treadgold, History of Byzantine State and Society, p. 629; Angold, Byzantine Empire, p. 183; B. Hill, ‘A Vindication of the Rights of Women to Power by Anna Komnene’, Byzantinische Forschungen 23 (1996), p. 46; D. Jones, Crusaders: An Epic History of the Wars for the Holy Lands (London, 2019), p. 182. 110 For the immense literary output of their theatron, see: Nikephoros Bryennios, Nicéphore Bryennios Histoire, tr. P. Gautier (Brussels. 1975), pp. 340–55; Prodromos, LIX; Cramer, ‘Xenedemus’, pp. 204–15; Tannery, ‘Théodore Prodrome sur le grand et le petit’, pp. 104–19; R.  Browning, ‘An Unpublished Funeral Oration of Anna Comnena’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 188 (1962), pp. 6–8; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 194, 332, 335–6. For the novel Rhodanthe and Dosikles, see: Jeffreys, ‘Rhodanthe and Dosikles’, pp. 3–156; Jeffreys, ‘A Date for Rhodanthe and Dosikles?’, p. 136; Jeffreys, Four Byzantine Novels, pp. 5–7. 111  Shepard, ‘Anna Komnena as a Source for the Crusades’, p. 11; Treadgold, Middle Byzantine Historians, p. 360; Neville, Anna Komnene, pp. 113–33, 151. 112 Tornikes, Lettres et Discours, p. 267, 283–93. Magdalino contends the Alexiad was a way for Anna to come to terms with not succeeding her father and mother in some way, and advocates for her being at home until her husband died, see in particular: Magdalino, ‘Pen of the Aunt’, pp. 21–2. 113 Neville, Anna Komnene, pp. 108–10; Kaldellis, ‘Meaning of History’, pp. 75–99. Vilimonović argues that perhaps Zonaras did not mention Anna had any involvement because she was still alive when he wrote, though she agrees with Neville that Anna was likely not of prime importance for the events of 1118 if she was involved at all, Vilimonović, Structures and Features, pp. 266, 318.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  63 Bryennios’ were to blame, rather than Anna and Nikephoros.114 Indeed, even these men were not severely punished, aside from a temporary loss of property. Choniates’ assertion somewhat later in his text that no one suffered capital, or even corporal punishment in John’s reign, also seems consistent with a fairly minimalist interpretation.115 So, if there was a Philopation plot, it was a damp squib to which John felt no need to respond violently. The key here may well have been the pending results of John’s 1119 Anatolian campaign: had it been a failure, or even a qualified success, perhaps those opposed to John would have found more fertile ground for their conspiracy, but John’s success meant that no major figures were willing to challenge him. Thus, the specific circumstance of each plot leads to different answers to the question of whether there was resistance to John’s accession. If Alexios had died in 1112, John could well have remained a junior co-­emperor under his brother-­ in-­law, mother, and sister. In the intervening years, John solidified his position. By 1119, with a victorious campaign under his belt, John was completely secure. In fact, Anna’s involvement in the Philopation plot appears tangential at best: keeping a low political profile in the years that followed so that she did not attract further ‘evil-­working men’ could well have been so that she could focus on her literary masterpieces. Accordingly, was Anna guilty? Of working with her husband and mother to share power with John in 1112 and 1118, yes. In 1119, she may have been guilty of association with those who did plot; she may also have been guilty of being one of the main beneficiaries had the plot succeeded; but is there any evidence at all that she attempted to have her brother assassinated aside from a chronicler writing the best part of a century later, finessing history to suit his literary goals? No. Anna’s involvement in 1119 was therefore minimal at best, though in the Muses of Alexios we do find a pointed reference to the possibility that anyone, ‘even a woman, even a child’, could become emperor, but to rule majestically and live with moderation is not simply the lot of a man and wife and child, but that of a man who knows how to rule safely, who is greatly concerned for a future work of celebration and is greatly concerned about the life to come.116

Whether this passage was tinder for the fire that stoked the Philopation plot, or was written in triumph shortly after, it is certainly notable that both Muses also open by noting that John was not just Alexios’ son and ‘flesh of [Alexios’] flesh’ but a ‘lover of his soul’ as well, ‘for you take after your father and delight in your

114  NC, pp. 10–11; tr. pp. 8–9.

115  Ibid., p. 47.

116  Muses I, lines 134–9.

64  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 father’s ways’.117 The mention of ‘a future work of celebration’ is likely to refer to John’s plans for his reign as a whole, but in 1119, it may also have referred to the auspicious birth and survival of his eighth child and fourth son, Manuel, on 28 November 1118, as well as to the coronation of John’s eldest son Alexios as co-­emperor.118 This latter event appears as the ceremonial inauguration of John’s administration, one that was very much a continuation of his father’s, but nevertheless represented a changing of the guard.

Old and New Government John’s own coronation had been a functional exercise of power, undertaken quickly so that he could take over the Great Palace as soon as possible before his father died. Having missed his father’s funeral as well, John had not held any major public event besides his partisans briefly taking over the streets on 15 August 1118. By 1119, he had returned from a successful campaign in Anatolia, and thus a celebration to confirm his regime was in order: one that would demonstrate to all that John and his coalition were now in control. This event drew attention to the stars of the new regime, though those in the background who made the wheels of government turn, and how John managed them, were just as important for the success of his rule. The coronation of John’s son has previously been misdated due to Choniates mentioning it only after he describes the 1123 expedition to Serb lands.119 However, as he does not use any of his usual chronological markers such as the ‘shortly afterwards’ used for the Serb section, or ‘in the summer’ used for the Hungarian section, this mention of the crowning of Alexios appears as an aside in his narrative. There is no such chronological ambiguity in the Neapolitan charters, which are dated according to imperial reigns; all those dating from 1119 to 1130 (the final entry) clearly state that on 1 December 1119, it was not only the twenty-­eighth year of John’s reign but also the first year of the reign of his son, Alexios Porphyrogennetos.120 Further entries allow us to narrow the date of his coronation down further, as on 10 July 1120 it was still the first year of his reign,

117  Muses II, lines 1–12, and Muses I title (‘The final admonitions and instructions of Alexios Komnenos, Philometor, Autokrator, to John Porphyrogennitos, Victor, Autokrator, Philopator, his son’). 118  Italikos 44, p. 279. 119  NC, pp. 16–17, p. 11. 120  ‘Imperante domino nostro Johannes porfirogenito magno Imperatore anno vicesimo hoctabo: sed et Alexium eius filium porfirogenito magno Imperatore anno primo: die prima mensis decembrii indictione tertia decimal neapoli’, Regii neapolitani archive VI (1858), no. 576. First noted by Hendy, DOC, p. 244; also noted in P. Magdalino and R. Macrides, ‘Theodore Prodromos, Carmina historica, I: Translation and Commentary’, After the text: Byzantine enquiries in honour of Margaret Mullett, ed. L. James, O. Nicholson, and R. Scott (London, 2021), pp. 6–7. With thanks to both authors for their sending their paper to me at an early stage.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  65 while by 7 October 1120 it was the second.121 Thus, his coronation must have taken place between 10 July and 7 October 1119. Such a date range falls during the exact time of the Philopation plot, suggesting two possible interpretations: either the coronation caused the Philopation incident when John’s internal rivals realized there would now be no possibility of co-­rule for themselves; or, in the wake of the Philopation challenge, John decided he should remove any ambiguity surrounding the succession and crown his then fourteen-­year-­old son as co-­ruler. A poem by Prodromos describes the event, within which we find hints that this coronation may have included some innovations, with line 123 referring to ‘reformers of old privileges and customs’.122 There is a large amount of space given in praise of John’s wife and empress, described as ‘Lady of all the Nations in the West’, and Prodromos goes into detail listing these nations. It cannot be ruled out that representatives from some or all of these nations may have been present at the coronation itself, thus providing additional power to these lines, akin to the way in which the Varangian Guard emphasized the emperor’s presumed authority over the whole Christian world.123 The reference to the people being unharmed from depredations by a mixed army from myriad nations in lines 111–13 of the poem could refer to any of the many invasions suffered during Alexios’ reign; but the implication drawn by Prodromos is that with the ‘power couple’ of John and his Lady of all the West, and now also their son and new co-­emperor, such problems would be a thing of the past. Prodromos’ focus is, however, on the twin emperors who now shone out upon their people: the ‘Saviours of Young Rome’ who presented themselves at the cor­ on­ation not only to the army and countless people, but specifically elders, sen­ ators, priests and the Patriarch’124 There is a focus on the legitimacy and lineage of the ‘two shining luminaries’, not only from their father and grandfather Alexios I Komnenos but also the Komnenos Emperor Isaac I and the Doukas Emperors Constantine X and Michael VII, in addition to continuity from classical antiquity in the reference to Claudius (perhaps identified as Claudius II Gothicus, the alleged grandfather of Constantine I).125 Thus, John and the young Alexios’ relationship 121  Ibid., nos. 577 and 579; this dating is reinforced by every subsequent entry in the source. 122 ‘τῶν παλαιῶν διορθωτὰς ἐθῶν καὶ προνομίων’, Prodromos, I, line 23; Magdalino and Macrides, ‘Carmina historica I’, pp. 10–13. 123 Cf. D.  Smythe, ‘Why do barbarians stand around the emperor at diplomatic receptions?’, Byzantine Diplomacy, ed. J. Shepard and S. Franklin (Aldershot, 1992), pp. 305–12. Here I correct my previous paper, Lau, ‘First Western Empress’, pp. 143–50, which I mistranslated in 2013 at the original conference and was sadly not able to change before publication. 124  Prodromos, I, lines 8–23. 125 ‘εἰ γὰρ καὶ Κλαύδιος δοκεῖ παρὰ Ῥωμαίοις μέγας ἐν τῷ χορῷ τῶν συγγενῶν τῶν σκήπτρου διαδόχων φρονῶν καὶ σεμνυνόμενος ἐν τῇ χοροτυπίᾳ καὶ προπομπῇ τῇ συγγενεῖ τῶν ἀπὸ σκηπτουχίας, ἀλλ᾽Ἰσαάκιος αὐτοῦ μείζω φρονῆσαι δόξει ὤν ὕψος μέγα Κομνηνοῖς τοῖς ἀπὸ γῆς ἡλίου καὶ Κωνσταντῖνος μετ᾽αὐτὸν Δοῦκας Ῥωμαίων ἄναξ

66  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 to both Komnenoi and Doukai emperors is emphasized, convincing listeners of the poem that they were the most legitimate candidates to rule after almost a century of dynastic continuity (in addition to just Alexios). Indeed, the stress on unity between Komnenos and Doukas may be a way in which Prodromos was able to re-­emphasize how John was bringing the two factions together again after 1119, and we see signs of this in his administration too. Regarding John’s distribution of offices to his supporters mentioned above, it should be appreciated that though on the one hand John’s government was an evolution of the administrative systems of Roman late antiquity, it was also sim­ul­ tan­eous­ly a product of Alexios’ recent reforms, which some historians have been called a ‘Komnenian Revolution’ in government.126 Alexios’ bureaucracy was intended to be leaner and more efficient than that which came before, but for both him and John it was also an intensely personal administration, with the powers and duties of specific offices adapting according to evolving priorities and the political and administrative acumen of the individuals who held them. It has been opined that John ‘did not systematically concern himself with administration’, but simply attempted ‘to manage in the best possible way’: this is at once true, and yet is also underestimating John and his regime.127 ‘Managing in the best possible way’ is the essence of being ‘systematically concerned’ with administration, as with the right personnel a government can become far greater than the sum of its parts. Byzantine central government was organized into sekreta (translated variously as ‘bureaus’, ‘departments’, ‘ministries’, or ‘secretariats’) and though at first sight they appear as distinct departments, for John’s reign in particular closer exam­in­ ation reveals that specific personnel held offices with overlapping responsibilities, cross-­connecting these institutions.128 These included the Army, Finance (Fisc), καὶ Κωνσταντίνου Μιχαὴλ παῖς Δοῦκας αὑτοκράτωρ καὶ μετ᾽αὐτὸν Ἀλέξιος μέγας Ῥωμαίων ἄναξ πολλοῖς προπομπευόμενοι σκηπτούχοις συγγενέσιν, ἐξ ὧν ἐβλάστησαν ἡμιν ἐκ τῆς σεμνῆς πορφύρας πατὴρ καὶ παῖς οἱ βασιλεῖς οἱ φύλακες οἱ ῥύσται’, Prodromos, I, lines 126–37. For Claudius II, see: Magdalino and Macrides, ‘Carmina historica I’, p. 5, n. 12. Another link could also be made to the Komnenoi themselves here, as many classical monuments dedicated to Claudius have been found in Kastamonu, the site of the Komnenian family estates, and so this classical emperor may have taken on a patron status to the Komnenoi clan as ‘their local’ classical emperor. Most of these are collected at the Kastamonu Museum (author’s personal visit in 2013). 126 Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 228–37, esp. n. 2 for a traditional overview of sources on ninth- and tenth-­century Byzantine administration. Haldon has previously illustrated the administration of previous centuries, while also including some discussion of how the administration evolved in the twelfth century: Haldon, Atlas of Byzantine History, pp. 132–3. For a critique of this overview, see: A. Gkoutzioukostas, ‘Administrative Structures of Byzantium during the 11th Century: Officials of the Imperial Secretariat and Administration of Justice’, TM 21 (2017), pp. 561–80. 127 Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos, pp. 8, 29. Cf. Treadgold’s judgement that John was a great manager rather than a great ruler: as above, I would contend that the former is an essential part of the latter. Treadgold, State and Society, p. 637. 128 Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 229.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  67 the Household, the Chancery, the Drome (Post), the city government of Constantinople, provincial administration and the Navy, with the Church operating its own bureaucracy that will be discussed in Chapter Eleven. Such overlapping responsibilities are epitomized in the powers exercised by two officials in John’s government. The first was his childhood friend John Axouch, whose primary role as megas domestikos was to head the army, but whose powers stretched far beyond that.129 Choniates describes Axouch as the power beside the throne, despite his ‘only’ bearing the lesser title of sebastos, which in itself demonstrates that court titles did not always reflect practical ­power.130 Axouch was an occasional keeper of the imperial seal, leading Magdalino to argue that he was John’s mesazon, or unofficial prime minister, and it appears that Axouch directly supervised certain provincial officials, specifically the doux of Crete (defined below).131 Empowering trusted officials with wide ranging authority had been a feature of Alexios’ administration too, notably in the creation of the office of the logothetes ton sekreton in order to coordinate the various sekreta.132 Though John did not name anyone to this position in 1118, perhaps thinking that he, Axouch, and his brother Isaac could handle matters directly until a suitable official was found, the vacancy appears to have only lasted until Gregory Kamateros was restored to imperial favour in 1119. With Kamateros’ wife being a Doukas, Kamateros’ own co-­option back into government was a clear sign that John was reconciling with those who had opposed him, holding out an olive branch to his erstwhile rivals. Kamateros had 129  His title of sebastos is attested in the title of Basilakes’ oration to him, as well as in several seals: Basilakes, ‘Τοῦ αὐτοῦ (sc. τοῦ Βασιλάκη) λογος εἰς τὸν σεβαστὸν καὶ μέγαν Δομέστικον πάσης ἀνατολῆς καὶ δύσεως κύριον Ἰωάννην’, Or. 5, p. 84; Zacos, Byzantine Lead Seals II, no. 525 (a) (b), 526; V. Laurent, Le Corpus des sceaux de l’empire byzantin II. L’administration centrale (Paris, 1981), no. 941; Jordanov, Corpus I, no. 7.1; C. Brand, ‘The Turkish Element in Byzantium, Eleventh–­Twelfth Centuries’, DOP 43 (1989), p. 8; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 208; A. Beihammer, ‘Patterns of Turkish Migration and Expansion in Byzantine Asia Minor in the 11th and 12th Centuries’, Migration Histories of the Medieval Afroeurasian Transition Zone: Asia and Europe, 300–1500 C.E., ed. J.  Preiser-­Kapeller, L. Reinfandt, and Y. Stouraitis (Leiden, 2020), p. 170. 130  Ibid. ‘πᾶσαν ὑπερανέβη πρεσβυτέραν παραδυνάστευσιν’, NC, p. 9; Basilakes, Or. 5, p. 84; Zlatar, Golden Byzantium, passim, but esp. pp. 260, 289, Zlatar, Red and Black Byzantium, passim but esp. pp. 127–57, 371–3. 131  JK, pp. 127–8; Magdalino, ‘Isaac sebastocrator (III), John Axouch, and a case of mistaken identity’, BMGS 11 (1987), pp. 211–12; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 254, 266; Brand objects that he was only given the seal temporarily, though Magdalino is ‘not convinced’; see, Brand, ‘Turkish Element in Byzantium’, pp. 1–25. In the Life of Leontios, John Straboromanos the doux of Crete was in the service of John Axouch under the authority of the emperor, and was there to collect taxes: ‘Καί ποτε τὴν τῶν κατ᾽αὐτὴν ποιουμένου ἐνέργειαν Ἰωάννου τινός, τὸ ἐπίκλην Στραβορωμανοῦ, ἐξυπηρετουμένου τῷ ἐπὶ τῆς βασιλείας Μανουὴλ τοῦ Κομνηνοῦ μεγάλῳ δομαστίκῳ ἐκείνῳ Ἰωάννῃ τῷ Ἀξούχῳ, οὗ δηλαδὴ δικαίῳ καὶ τὴν τοιαύτην διεῖπεν ὁ δηλωθεὶς Στραβορωμανὸς διοίκησιν’ Life of Leontios, pp. 67, 179–80, n. 30.2 and 4. This role is not unlike that played by Nikephoros Ouranos, κανίκλειος (‘keeper of the imperial inkstand’) during the reign of Basil II, with thanks to Catherine Holmes for this comparison, see: C. Holmes, Basil II and the Governance of Empire (976–1025) (Oxford 2005), pp. 383–8, 410, 457. 132  R. Guilland, ‘Les Logothètes: Études sur l’histoire administrative de l’empire byzantin’, REB 29 (1971), pp. 17, 75–7; Magdalino, ‘Innovations in Government’, pp. 146–66; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 252–4; ODB, p. 1247; Gkoutzioukostas, ‘Administrative Structures’, pp. 577–80.

68  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 been an imperial secretary and praitor of Hellas-­Peloponnesos, and in our texts is renowned for his tax gathering skills and legal expertise, also making this a clear promotion for a talented official.133 He was initially named as megas logariastes (‘grand accountant’—presiding over various fiscal departments) but he was remembered by Choniates as logothetes ton sekreton, in addition to being given the court dignity of pansebastos.134 Considering Kamateros’ successor, John Poutzenos, is referred to as megas logariastes ton sekreton at the Synod of Blachernai in 1157, it appears that between the 1120s and 1157, across the careers of these two men, the positions merged, with both offices also held sim­ ul­tan­eous­ly by a certain John Belissariotes at the end of the century.135 Less is known of John Poutzenos, aside from the fact that he replaced the now elderly Kamateros by 1135. By 1157, he appears with the rare epithet of megalodoxotatos (‘exceedingly-­most-­glorious’) as well as the office of protonotarios tou dromou, with some supervision over the bureau of the drome (concerned with communications; see below), while Choniates describes his wife pejoratively as ‘ἀπηνθηκυιῶν εὐγενῶν’ (‘from decayed aristocracy’).136 Possibly outside the purview of the megas logariastes were the major palace officials. We saw above how John appointed his cousin John as parakoimomenos, effectively the imperial chamberlain, but this cousin was quickly removed from this position due to his pride and impetuousness according to Choniates.137 His removal left the ‘restrained and careful’ Gregory Taronites (from a family related to the Komnenoi through Michael Taronites’ marriage to Maria, sister of Alexios I) as protovestiarios (first vestiarios, derived from the keeper of the emperor’s wardrobe), though whether Taronites assumed the responsibilities of the parakoimomenos or split the role with Kamateros who is mentioned in the same section 133  NC, p. 9; his legal expertise is praised by Prodromos: A. Majuri, ‘Anecdota Prodromea dal Vat. gr.305’, Rendiconti della reale Accademia dei Lincei, classe di scienze morali, storiche e filogiche, 5th ser., 17 (1908), p. 530. Cf.: P.  Magdalino, ‘Innovations in Government’, Alexios I Komnenos-Papers, ed. M. Mullett and D. Smythe (Belfast, 1996), pp. 153–4. 134  Ibid. His title of megas logariastes appears on the Patmos grants, discussed below, confirming Choniates’ account of his appointment at this early stage, see: E.  Vranousi, Βυζαντινὰ ἔγγραφα τῆς μονῆς Πάτμου. Αʹ. Αὐτοκρατορικά (Athens, 1980), pp. 79–83. Pansebastos: Italikos 12, p. 136. 135  Sakellion, ‘Τόμος συνοδικός’, pp. 316–17. Magdalino points out the dearth of mentions of the Logothetes ton Sekreton after Alexios’ death, even though the functions were certainly still being performed in Manuel’s reign. The two mentions from John’s reign are from Choniates for 1119, and then a possible reference from c.1142, Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 253, n. 83. Gkoutzioukostas points out that the position is also mentioned in 1160 and 1176 as προϊστάμενος τῶν σεκρέτων and προεστὼς τῶν σεκρέτων, respectively, which being minor variations of the same pre-­eminent office for a co-­ ordinator of the sekreta, supports the idea that it was the individual that made the office powerful, and then the name of that office evolved appropriately. See: Gkoutzioukostas, ‘Administrative Structures’, p. 579, nos. 134 and 135. On Belissariotes, see: Actes de Lavra I, pp. 350, 354; MM III, p. 27. 136  Literally the ‘withered well-­born’, NC, p. 56. Megalodoxotatos is a rare title, that may perhaps have been more of an informal epithet as it is otherwise found ascribed to more distinguished soldiers in documents of the later twelfth and thirteenth centuries, though there is the possibility that it was given as a specific honorific for Poutzenos. See: M.  Bartusis, Land and Privilege in Byzantium. The Institution of Pronoia (Cambridge, 2012), pp. 214–15. 137  NC, p. 9.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  69 is unclear.138 Regardless, alongside Taronites in the household department were one or more mystikoi, who appear as personal secretaries to the emperor, among whom we know of two from the Pantokrator typikon and another from an 1140 letter by Tzetzes, respectively officials named John (a eunuch) Tzykanisteriotes and Nikephoros Serblias.139 On the military side were also the heads of the three palatine military units: the Varangians (the emperor’s bodyguards of Scandinavian and English origin), the Vestiaritai (treasury and armoury guards), and the Hetaireia (‘companions’, described by Bryennios as made up of young imperial nobles).140 Norse sagas name the akolouthos (‘acolyte’: commander) of the Varangians as Þórir Helsingr at the battle of Berroia in 1122, while the Pantokrator typikon includes a Vestiarites Theodore Beroites, who may be the same man who fought the Normans in 1108 with John.141 For the Hetaireia we have no known officer in John’s reign, though we do know of Megas Hetaireiarches Constantine Antiochos from the 1094 synod of Blachernai, and George Palaiologos from the 1166 synod of the Great Palace, and so it is likely the position was filled in the interval by a man from a similarly prominent noble family.142 Considering the days John spent installing himself in the palace, having key supporters of his in these positions would have been crucial. Perhaps surprisingly there is less information for new men being installed in the chancery during John’s reign. Only in 1140 do we have mention of Theodore Styppeiotes holding the position of epi tou kanikleou (‘Keeper of the Inkstand’): he would prove a controversial bureaucratic figure in Manuel’s reign due to the amount of power he would amass.143 We have no known holders of the position of protasekretis, a judge who also drafted imperial chrysobulls, or the epi ton deeson (‘master of petitions’), though the latter is mentioned in 1106 and 1157.144 Though 138  ODB, pp. 1247, 1584, 1749; Varzos, Genealogia, no 11; Guilland, R., Recherches sur les Institutions Byzantines, vol. I (Amsterdam, 1967), pp. 202–36; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 252–4. 139  ODB, p. 1431; P.  Magdalino, ‘The Not-­so-­secret Functions of the Mystikos’, REB 42 (1984), pp. 229–40; Pantokrator Typikon, p. 45; Gkoutzioukostas, ‘Byzantine Officials in the Typikon of Christ Pantokrator’, pp. 72–3, nos. 6–12; Tzetzes, Epistulae, pp. 31–4. 140  Vestiaritai: AK, 4.4, pp. 24–5. Hetaireia: Nikephoros Bryennios, Histoire, pp. 1–2; AK, 3.3–5, p. 127; JK, p. 271; A. Hohlweg, Beiträge zur Verwaltungsgeschichte des oströmischen Reiches unter den Komnenen (Munich, 1965), pp. 45–80; Warfare, State and Society in the Byzantine World, 565–1204 (London, 1999), p. 120; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 231; Bartusis, Late Byzantine Army, p. 271; ODB, pp. 925, 2163. Varangians: see Chapter Four. 141  Fornmanna Sögur V, p. 136; AK, 4.4, pp. 24–5; Gkoutzioukostas, ‘Officials in the Typikon of Christ Pantokrator’, p. 73. 142  ‘Le synode des Blachernes’, p. 216; Ὁ πατήρ μου μείζων μού ἐστιν, p. 141. 143  Prodromos, LXXI and LXXII. His position is attested many times during early Manuel’s reign as well, including Prodromos LXXIII, NC, p. 59; JK, p. 184; Georges et Dèmetrios Tornikès, Lettres et Discours, p. 142; ‘Τόμος συνοδικός’, p. 316; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 229; Gkoutzioukostas, ‘Administrative Structures’, pp. 561–4. 144  ODB, p. 1742; N. Oikonomides, ‘L’évolution de l’organisation administrative de L’empire byzantin au XIe siècle (1025–1118)’, TM 6 (1976), p. 131; P.  Magdalino, ‘Justice and Finance in the Byzantine State, Ninth to Twelfth Centuries’, Law and Society in Byzantium: Ninth–­Twelfth Centuries, ed. A. Laiou and D.  Simon (Washington, DC, 1994), pp. 108–9; Magdalino, ‘Innovations in Government’, p. 165; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 229–30. Contra: A.  Gkoutzioukostas, ‘Η εξέλιξη του θεσμού των

70  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 lacunae in the record are certainly possible, it is also likely the powers of these offices were given to figures such as Poutzenos (see above), or the Logothothes ton Dromou Stephen Meles. Regarding the drome, many scholars believe it was merged with the chancery in this period, with the office now only in charge of drafting victory bulletins and dealing with foreigners in Constantinople, though others still see it as presiding over the postal and transport system of the empire as a separate department.145 Either way, during John’s great eastern campaign Meles appears as a key figure, being the sender and receiver of various letters to and from the capital at this time. The officials and tradesmen of the city of Constantinople were regulated by the eparch, an office which had evolved from that of the urban prefect of late Antiquity.146 Two men named Gregory Taronites held this position in 1107 and 1151, though what their exact relationship was with Protovestiarios Gregory Taronites is unclear.147 Together with the provincial tax agents, the eparch and his staff were crucial to John’s finances: the Muses articulate this by describing Constantinople as ‘a source of gold that will never dry up as long as God con­ tinued to smile on it’, and so the management of Constantinopolitan trade was one of the key pillars upon which the empire rested.148 Though John appointed all seven great judges of Constantinople (of whom the eparch and the protasekretis were two), the only office-­holder mentioned by name is the megas droungarios: a judge with jurisdiction over everyone except title-­holders (who were judged by the emperor), clergy (who had access to ecclesiastical courts), tradesmen (who were judged by the eparch) and soldiers (who were entitled to a military judge).149 ἀσηκρῆτις και του πρωτοασηκρῆτις στο πλαίσιο της αυτοκρατορικής γραμματείας’, Byzantina 23 (2002–2003), pp. 86–7. Gkoutzioukostas, ‘Administrative Structures’, pp. 561–4. 1106: Theophylact of Ohrid, Letters, p. 529; 1157: ‘Τόμος συνοδικός’, p. 316. On the epi ton deeson: R. Morris, ‘What did the epi tôn deêseôn actually do?’, La Pétition à Byzance, ed. D.  Feissel and J.  Gascou (Paris, 2004), pp. 125–40. 145  D. Miller, ‘The Logothete of the Drome in the Middle Byzantine Period’, Byzantion 36 (1976), pp. 438–70; Guilland, ‘Les Logothètes’, pp. 31–70; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 229, 313–14; Haldon, Atlas of Byzantine History, p. 132; K.  Belke, ‘Communication: Roads and Bridges’, Oxford Handbook of Byzantine Studies, ed. E. Jeffreys, J. Haldon, and R. Cormack (Oxford, 2008), pp. 295–308. J.  Fosella, The Emperor’s Eyes: The Dromos and Byzantine Communications, Diplomacy and Bureaucracy, 518–1204 (unpublished doctoral thesis, Saint Louis University, 2014); Avramea, ‘Land and Sea Communications’, pp. 60–1. On Venetians and other Italians, see: G. Tafel and G. Thomas, ‘Urkunden zur älteren Handels- und Staatsgeschichte der Republik Venedig, mit besonderer Beziehung auf Byzanz und die Levante’, vol. 1, FRA 12 (Vienna, 1856), pp. 274–5; Documenti sulle relazioni delle città Toscane coll’oriente, p. 13; Haldon, Atlas of Byzantine History, p. 132. 146  ODB, p. 705; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 230. 147  AK, 13.1, p. 384; Tzetzes, Epistulae, p. 124. 148  Muses II, pp. 356–8; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 28; Magdalino, ‘Empire of the Komnenoi’, p. 654; Dagron, ‘Urban Economy’, pp. 401–5; Whittow, ‘Middle Byzantine Economy’, p. 475. 149  Ecloga Basilicorum, pp. 268, 258, 276, 376; Oikonomides, ‘L’évolution’, pp. 133–5; H. Saradi, ‘The Byzantine Tribunals: Problems in the Application of Justice and State Policy (9th–12th c.)’, REB 53 (1995), p. 174; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 262; Macrides, ‘Competent Court’, pp. 122–3; A. Gkoutzioukostas, Η απονομή δικαιοσύνης στο Βυζάντιο (9 ος–12 ος αι.). Τα δικαιοδοτικά όργανα και δικαστήρια της πρωτεύουσας (Thessalonike, 2004), pp. 124–38; Gkoutzioukostas, ‘Administrative Structures’, p. 571.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  71 Both known holders were imperial relatives: a certain Nikephoros mentioned in the Pantokrator typikon, perhaps John’s uncle Nikephoros Komnenos, and a Constantine Komnenos (son of Emperor Alexios’ brother Isaac) from before 1147 (and so perhaps appointed during the reign of John, as he held the position of doux of Berroia in 1107).150 Turning to provincial administration, John’s empire was divided into provinces known as themata, or themes. The theme had a long history as an administrative division in the empire, but by the twelfth century had come to mean something new, with the most notable change being that it was now governed by a doux.151 The Komnenian doux, despite the shared Latin origin with the western ‘Duke’, was not a hereditary aristocratic title, but the office for a provincial governor. The holder wielded all military, judicial, and civilian administrative power in that region, but was limited by being an imperial appointee, with sources from the late eleventh century noting that they were in post for three to four years, and that after their term in office their performance was, at least in some cases, audited by the government.152 There were, however, frequent exceptions to this general model, with the theme of Hellas-­Peloponnesos actually being run by the megas doux, the head of the imperial navy, though he was aided by a praitor who handled civilian government on his behalf, while praitors are also attested in Thrace-­ Macedonia, and possibly Boleron-­Strymon-­Thessalonike.153 However, as much as 150  Nikephoros (Komnenos): Pantokrator Typikon, p. 126, n. 46, p. 773; Constantine Komnenos: Théophylacte D’Achrida Lettres, p. 563; Σύνταγμα τῶν θείων καἰ ἱερῶν κανόνων V, p. 307; Jordanov, Corpus II, p. 225. 151  ODB, pp. 659, 2034–5; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 234; M.  Öztürk, The Provincial Aristocracy in Byzantine Asia Minor (1081–1261) (unpublished master’s thesis, Boğaziçi University, 2013), pp. 100–1; Haldon, Atlas of Byzantine History, p. 128. The replacement of the strategos by the doux had been ongoing even before the eleventh-­century crises, see: J.-C.  Cheynet, ‘De stratège de thème au duc: chronologie de l’évolution au cours du XIe siècle’, TM 9 (1985), pp. 181–94; Zlatar, Red and Black Byzantium, pp. 175–6. 152  Théophylacte d’Achrida Lettres, p. 199. The Monastery of the Virgin founded by Gregory Pakourianos in 1083 contained ‘chrysobulls of acquittal’ concerning his administration of the themata of Theodosiopolis and Kars, see: P.  Gautier, ‘Le typikon du sébaste Grégoire Pakourianos’, REB 42 (1984), p. 127, English tr.: ‘Pakourianos: Typikon of Gregory Pakourianos for the Monastery of the Mother of God Petritzonitissa in Bachovo’, ed. and tr. R.  Jordan, Byzantine Monastic Foundation Documents I, ed. J.  Thomas and A.  Hero (Washington, DC, 2000), p. 555; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 234. Countering this, Cheynet has noted that even under the Isaurian emperors of the eighth century, some provincial governors began to stay in their posts for many years, noting one term of more than twenty years in the first half of that century; see: J.-C. Cheynet, The Byzantine Aristocracy and its Military Function (Abingdon, 2018), p. 18. 153 Thrace-­Macedonia: attested both by Sebastos and Praitor Andronikos Serblias, and also by Praitor George Serblias in the first/second third of the thirteenth century. This seal can be found in Jordanov, Corpus II, p. 369, and though originally dated to the late eleventh century, Wassiliou-­Seibt has redated it to the thirteenth century, see: A.-­K. Wassiliou-­Seibt, ‘Der Familienname Serblias und seine Träger in Byzance. Eine sigillographische-­ prosopographische Studie’, Studies in Byzantine Sigillography 11 (2011), pp. 35–55, no. 27, cited by Gkoutzioukostas, ‘Judges of the Macedonian Theme’, p. 119. Boleron-­Strymon-­Thessalonike: though a praitor is certainly attested in 1095, and it is often cited that there was one in the twelfth century in the following works, this evidence rests on the career of one John Taronites, who is cited in a patriarchal decision of 1164 as being sebastos, praitor and anagrapheus of Thrace, Macedonia, Boleron, Strymon and Thessalonike in 1102, see: Les Regestes des actes du Patriarchat de Constantinople I, no. 1055. This mention has resulted in suggestions from

72  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 this split was the case under the Megas Doux Nikephoros Vatatzes (and his praitor, John Hagiotheodorites) towards the latter part of John’s reign, the megas doux in 1118 was Alexios’ loyal general Eumathios Philokales, who bore the title of praitor simultaneously as we saw above; equally, Constantine Doukas is named as both doux and praktor of Boleron-­Strymon-­Thessalonike in 1118, making him both governor and tax collector.154 John himself may have installed a certain Theodore Pepanos as a ‘doux and anagrapheus’ (a tax assessor) in west Anatolia. Admittedly, this installation is recorded in the context of the same man being appointed doux of the newly founded theme of Mylasa-­Melanoudion, and so whether he had previously been simultaneously doux and anagrapheus in the region (similar to Constantine Doukas), or whether he had been first anagrapheus and then doux is not recorded.155 Either way, the model was certainly adaptive to the circumstances of the province and the governor himself even in the most regular provinces. More will be said concerning the nature of John’s administration in subsequent chapters, but even from this initial overview, we can understand how the levers of power were operated when John came into his full power in 1118. In many ways, he continued the policies of his father with regard to administration, particularly by empowering certain individuals with authority across multiple institutions: such omni-­competence is encouraged by rotations in most modern civil services, allowing institutions to co-­ordinate more effectively. That John’s administration was characterized by such efficiency finds support from across many sources. All of our named officials are lauded for being competent administrators (at least before Poutzenos’ ‘corruption’ during Manuel’s reign), with poor ones being replaced; Choniates himself notes that the administration John left Manuel was Lemerle and others that this huge provincial area was temporarily united under his control, while Gkoutzioukostas and Gregoriou-­Ioannidou have suggested this records two successive stages of Taronites’ career, while Oikonomides and Nesbitt argue that this position united fiscal control of the west (perhaps for the purpose of tax reform in the view of Magdalino), even if the provinces themselves were not technically united; Chatziantoniou’s analysis supports the latter proposal. For this study, the question is whether there was a praitor in this theme/these themes during John’s reign, and this we do not know, though the position of Constantine Doukas as doux and praktor of Boleron-­ Strymon-­Thessalonike must suggest that this province may have had some form of unique administration. For a full bibliography of this debate, see: E. Chatziantoniou, ‘The Kritai/Praitores of Boleron, Strymon and Thessalonike in the 11th Century Prosopography and Provincial Administration’, Byzantina 34 (2016), pp. 131–4. Cf. Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 233–4; Magdalino, ‘Justice and Finance in the Byzantine State’, pp. 110–11; Gkoutzioukostas, ‘Η απονομή δικαιοσύνης στο Βυζάντιο’, p. 294; Gkoutzioukostas, ‘Judges of the Macedonia Theme’, esp. p. 119; ‘Herrin, ‘Realities of Provincial Government’, passim. 154  DO II, 22.15; Acta Diplomatica graeca medii aevi VI, p. 96; Actes de Lavra, p. 332. 155  It would certainly be fascinating in itself if a person could rise from being a tax assessor to a doux in this period, though Papadopoulou posits that he held both positions simultaneously, which would make sense from a fiscal perspective as these new provinces were reintegrated into the imperial tax system, see: Papadopoulou, ‘Coinage, Numismatic Circulation and Monetary Policy’, p. 198. Acta et diplomata graeci medii aevi IV, pp. 324–5, 327, 329; Regesten der Kaiserkunden 3, p. 1305; R. Janin, Les églises et les monastères des grands centres byzantines (Paris, 1975), p. 447; E.  Ragia, ‘Η  αναδιοργάνωση των θεμάτων στη Μικρά Ασία τον δωδέκατο αιώνα και το θέμα Μυλάσσης και Μελανουδίου’, Byzantina Symmeikta 17 (2008), p. 235.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  73 far more efficient than the one Manuel bequeathed his son.156 Equally, the cap­ acity John had to finance and manage his military campaigns, fortress and church building, the extra wing of the Blachernai Palace, and large public events, without any complaints as to excessive tax raising until Manuel’s reign, testifies to the accuracy of these opinions. The centrality of Constantinople also comes across strongly. In addition, it should be recognized that John’s financial security rested on Alexios’ monetary reform of 1092, which consisted of the end of debased coinage and the reintroduction of high quality gold and silver coinage.157 This was a reform more dramatic than any in Roman history bar Diocletian’s at the turn of the third to fourth century. John further refined this system, producing many more middle denomination coins that facilitated a greater amount of economic exchange than previously.158 Though there remains insufficient economic evidence to fully explore whether John had a monetary policy, he certainly did not have to deal with the debasements and shortages of coin of his eleventh-­century predecessors, making finance less of an issue than it had been. Though John is still first and foremost known for his campaigning, the constant work done by his government to facilitate these endeavours should not be underestimated, nor his interest in civil affairs. Kinnamos tells us that before John embarked on his first campaign, he ‘devoted himself to civil affairs as far as time allowed’, and though much of that time was surely spent organizing this administration, three significant acts are recorded by which John sought to set the tone for his new regime.159

Civil Affairs and the New Regime The first was settling a land use dispute between three stratiotai (land-­owning soldiers) who held property near estates owned by the Lavra Monastery of Mount Athos: specifically Archontochorion near Thessalonike, where their 156  NC, pp. 59–60, 77, 204–6. Cited by: Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 252, and G. Maniatis, ‘The organic structure and effectiveness of the byzantine fiscal system - a critical evaluation’, Zbornik radova Vizantološkog Instituta 54 (2017), p. 100. 157 Hendy, Studies in the Byzantine Monetary Economy, pp. 513; Hendy, Coinage and Money, pp.  48–9, 57, 107–8; DOC, pp. 1, 11, 30, 39, 41–7, 96–128, 181–274, 251; Morrisson, ‘La Logarikè’, pp.  419–64; Morrisson, ‘Byzantine Money’, pp. 924, 932; Morrisson, ‘Money, Coins and the Economy’, pp. 37–8; E.  Turnator, Turning the Economic Tables in the Medieval Mediterranean: The Latin Crusader Empire and the Transformation of the Byzantine Economy, ca. 1100–1400 (unpublished PhD thesis, Harvard University, 2013), p. 45; M. Angold, ‘Belle Époque or Crisis?’, Cambridge History of the Byzantine Empire c.500–1492, ed. J. Shepard (Cambridge, 2008), pp. 619–20; G. Maniatis, ‘The Impact of Financial Institutions on the Development of the Byzantine Economy (10th–12th Centuries)’, ZRVI 53 (2016), pp. 104–5, 107; P. Papadopoulou, ‘The Big Problem of Small Change in the Byzantine World (Twelfth–­Thirteenth Centuries)’, Change in the Byzantine World in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries Proceedings (Istanbul, 2016), pp. 206–10; Whittow, ‘Middle Byzantine Economy’, p. 473. 158  DOC, pp. 245, 251, 253–4. See Conclusion below for more on John’s coinage. 159  JK, p. 5; tr. p. 14.

74  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 paroikoi (literally ‘one who lives near’, often translated as peasant in the sense of a dependant peasant or tenant farmer) were allowed to cultivate the land but not to live there.160 Doux Constantine Doukas of Boleron-­Strymon-­Thessalonike had asked the emperor for advice, and on John’s orders, through the agency of a logariastes (accountant) called Xiphilinos, Doukas granted Leon Loukites, Romanos Andreas Rentenos and Theotimos Loukites land from the imperial fisc for their paroikoi to live on, settling the dispute. Aside from providing valuable prosopographical detail, this incident also shows John beginning his reign by showing care in ensuring soldiers were well provided for, while still showing con­sid­er­ ation to the church: as a first act this provides some evidence for Choniates’ glowing description of John’s munificence, and it evokes John’s later reputation as ‘Kaloioannes’: John ‘the good’ or ‘fair’.161 The second act was a donation to the monks of Patmos in July 1119, likely granted shortly after John returned from his Laodikeia and Sozopolis campaign, as demonstrated by its signing by Kamateros.162 This primarily included con­firm­ ation of chrysobulls issued by Alexios I, which granted the monastery tax exemptions for naval transport of its products, and confirmed that the doux of Crete would donate 300 modioi of wheat and twenty-­four nomismata to the monastery every year. John, however, also went further by granting the monks an additional annual donation of 100 modioi of wheat, taken from the revenues of the kastron (fortified settlement) of Chandax (on Crete). As well as giving us evidence for Kamateros’ role in government, and John’s continued attempts to be seen as John ‘the good’, this demonstrates that John was comfortable giving up some military revenues to a monastery, and that he was keen to facilitate the contributions this monastery could make to the economic prosperity of the empire. This evidence for native Byzantine shipping had a substantial impact upon John’s third act of civil government from early in the reign, which was the one with by far the greatest consequences, though not for some years. This third act was John’s decision not to renew the trade privileges granted to Venice by his father by chrysobull in c.1082/1092. This chrysobull had allowed the Venetians to trade duty free all over the empire (i.e. without paying the kommerkion tax), in addition to granting them titles, pensions and even properties in Constantinople that would later become the core of the Venetian quarter.163 To refuse to confirm these privileges was John’s right, as each emperor renewed all 160  Actes de Lavra. Première partie: Des origines à 1204, Archives de l’Athos V, ed. and tr. P. Lemerle, A. Guillou, and N. Svoronos (Paris, 1970), p. 332. 161  NC, pp. 46–7. Cf. Conclusion. 162 Vranousi, Πάτμου Αʹ, pp. 79–83. 163  There have been numerous papers on the exact dating of this chrysobull; for a full account, see: T.  Devaney, ‘ “Like an Ember Buried in Ashes”: The Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict of 1119–1126’, Crusades—­Medieval Worlds in Conflict, ed. T.  F Madden, J.  L Naus, and V.  Ryan (Farnham, 2010), p.  129, note 5. Though Devaney settles on 1082, Frankopan has argued for 1092: P.  Frankopan, ‘Byzantine Trade Privileges to Venice in the Eleventh Century: The Chrysobull of 1092’, Journal of Medieval History 30 (2004), pp. 135–60.

Young Emperor John and the Rule of Constantinople  75 bulls passed by his predecessor, and it has been noted that John did not renew the privileges granted to Pisa in 1118 either, but it was still an act that would seriously harm relations with Venice, and so was not done without good reason.164 Though there were some broader geo-­political concerns with regard to Dalmatia, and perhaps there were worries about Venice’s growing economic prominence, the primary reason referred to by our texts is recent Venetian bad behaviour in the capital and across the empire: behaviour which the newly empowered John was keen to demonstrate to his domestic audience would not be tolerated.165 This bad behaviour dates back to 1099–1100, when certain Venetians dis­ obeyed Alexios’ orders not to go east to aid the crusaders and decided to torture local clergy in southern Anatolia into giving up some of the relics of St Nicholas of Myra.166 Though the Venetians compensated the bishop of Myra, the flagrant disrespect for imperial authority continued in 1107/8 when a Venetian monk stole some relics of St Stephen and brought them to a Venetian church in Constantinople.167 This led to a standoff, during which the imperial authorities would not enter the church and the Venetians could not remove the relics, broken only when seventy-­two prominent Venetians (one assumes with some form of diplomatic immunity) escorted them out of the city and back to Venice. This being done, Doge Ordelafo Falier installed them in the monastery of San Giorgio Maggiore, causing Alexios to grant Pisa commercial privileges as a direct threat to the Venetian monopoly, which led this large group of Venetians to cause further trouble in the capital.168 Choniates tells us that: They used to treat the citizen like a slave, not merely one of the general commonality, but even one who took pride in the rank of Sebastos…/they inflicted blows on many of the wellborn who were related to the emperor by blood, and generally insulted them savagely.169 164 Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos, p. 10. 165  John would make no moves towards Dalmatia militarily in his reign, and notably Venice had always been happy to recognize Byzantine suzerainty over these areas, so geo-­political arguments for this move appear exaggerated: Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 34–5; R-­J. Lilie, Handel und Politik zwischen dem byzantinischen Reich und den italienischen Kommunen Venedig, Pisa und Genua in der Epoche der Komnenen und der Angeloi (1081–1204) (Amsterdam, 1984), p. 367. An economic motive is proposed in: Ostrogorsky, History of the Byzantine State, p. 377. Poor Venetian behaviour in the capital as the crucial reason is proposed by Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, p. 134; Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos, p. 17. 166  ‘Translatio Sancti Nicolai Monachi anonymi Littorensis’, RHC: Historiens occidentaux 5 (Paris, 1895), pp. 255–64, 272; ‘Annales venetici breves’, p. 70; Dandolo, ‘Chronicon Venetum’, pp. 221–2; Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, 129–30. 167  Dandolo, p. 227; MM III, pp. 9–13; Ostrogorsky, History of the Byzantine State, p. 367; Lilie, Handel und Politik, pp. 69–76; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 27–34; Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, pp. 130–1. 168  Increasing numbers of Venetians in the capital are attested in the increasing numbers of documents relating to their activities: Documenti del commercio veneziano nei secoli XI–­XII vol. I, ed. R. Morozzo della Rocca and A. Lombardo (Rome, 1940), nos. 19, 24, 33, 41, 42, 45, and 46; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 27–34; Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, p. 131. 169  NC, p. 281; tr. p. 210.

76  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Considering the plots John had recently quashed, he is likely to have been especially sensitive to any who had the potential to challenge the new regime, and though the Venetians initially had to swallow their pride and trade without these privileges, their response would not be long in coming.170 Taken together, these three acts reveal John setting himself up as a protector of his subjects’ rights and properties, showing consideration to his supporters in the nobility, the army and the church while demonstrating to foreigners that priv­il­ eges had to be earned. Rounding up the key observations of the first thirty years of John’s life and his assumption of full power, there are several presumptions that must be reviewed, not least that there is very little to say concerning these years. Instead, John had been engaged in a struggle for influence with several members of his family for over five years, but he comes across as ready to forgive and move forward whenever possible, and a trait seen again when family conflict re­appeared a decade later. He succeeded by winning over a significant proportion of the army, church, key provincial governors and the people of Constantinople in addition to gaining the backing of the next generation of the Komnenian family. Regarding those family members who opposed him, it has often been assumed that they would have happily murdered John for power, whereas in actual fact they merely dis­agreed as to the limits of that power. John’s victory over them meant he had a free hand to organize his administration as he wished, and he did so initially by putt­ing his partisans in power in 1118, but by 1119 he removed one ineffectual relation and brought on board the able Kamateros in what must be seen as a significant move towards unity as well as administrative efficiency trumping loyalty. He continued his father’s policy of empowering specific individuals with broad authority in different departments, and, far from being uninterested in civil affairs, John began his reign by intervening in at least three significant disputes. These each demonstrated John’s concern for personal and property rights, and desire to establish himself as the just arbiter of disputes among his people, and between his people and the Venetians. Though no source specifically attests to John’s charisma or lack thereof, we must assume from his ability to bring together this broad coalition of supporters that he had some talent in this field, in addition to his willingness to include even his former opponents, his brother Andronikos, Nikephoros Bryennios and Gregory Kamateros in particular, in his army and administration. Thus, he had an able team of military and civilian officials with which to rule after his father’s death, and he would spend these first years attempting to complete the campaigns that the two of them had started together.

170  Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, p. 134.

Three The Horizons of 1118 As Alexios breathed his last in Constantinople, he left it to his son, heir, and ­colleague to finish alone the foreign policy initiatives that they had been working on together for the last ten years. Now that John was in total control in Constantinople, the Muses names several powers who would loom large in the emperor’s vision: the Normans and ‘Celts’, comprising both the Latin Crusaders, the rulers of the lost imperial provinces of southern Italy, and the western powers; the ‘Persians’, used in a classical sense to describe the Turkish threat to the east; the many ‘Skythian’ peoples of the northern Steppe who raided across the Danube; and the Arabs and other Islamic polities; distant lands such as India are also mentioned, as no lands were theoretically beyond the care or consideration of the empire, but the named near powers were no doubt John’s most significant geo-­ political concerns.1 Unfortunately, the incomplete version of the Muses that comes down to us means that we cannot know where exactly other polities may have fitted into this perception: did the original Muses outline a particular pos­ ition John planned to take for the peoples over whom the empire had previously presided, such as the Serbs or Armenians? And what of Georgia and Kiev, or indeed was a particular relationship articulated regarding the lost lands of southern Italy, Dalmatia, or the northern Italian cities such as Venice? Lacking such details in the Muses, we must draw out John’s plans from the events as they were recorded. From an overview of the empire and its neighbours, it is clear that John came to power in a much more stable position than his father had been at the time of his accession in 1081. In Alexios’ last years, John had become increasingly involved in diplomatic and military initiatives, such that in 1118 he simply con­ tinued his father’s design: namely, to restore the empire to its previously dominant international position, lost in the chaos of civil wars and invasions since 1071. The recent history and condition of the empire’s neighbours in 1118 therefore sets the stage for John’s entrance. In 1105/6 while his father was still alive, John’s marriage had played a crucial diplomatic role in the west. This would be followed by John’s own intervention in Serb dynastic struggles, in what would be his first known campaigns wholly independent of his father. Meanwhile Alexios’ last great Anatolian expedition in 1116–17 was closely followed by John’s campaigns in the east from 1118 to 1122. These saw John take on Alexios’ role as the now sole

1  Muses I, lines 272–6, lines 287–90, Muses II, lines 52–3, 65, 81; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 29.

Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143. Maximilian C. G. Lau, Oxford University Press. © Maximilian C. G. Lau 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198888673.003.0004

78  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 emperor, both on campaign and on the diplomatic stage, and continue the cause of imperial restoration. At this stage, we see John able to pick and choose his campaigns, granting us a clear vision of what he and his father were working towards. External crises would, however, soon catch up with John in the years to follow, delaying the fulfilment of that design.

Tour d’horizon Although the incomplete nature of the Muses prevents us from even partially seeing the world as John did, our sources conjure up images of a world near and far. An inner sphere of regions and powers loomed large, and then an outer sphere interacted with that nearer world, though as John advanced the frontiers that outer sphere became increasingly part of that nearer world. It is possible that the missing section of the Muses described the world similarly to the tenth-­century De Administrando Imperio: a text whose original Greek dedication was Πρὸς τὸν ἴδιον υἱὸν Ρωμανόν [To my son Romanos], though we shall never know if the Muses was written in conscious imitation of Constantine VII’s famous work. The model of the De Administrando is, however, a useful one for describing John’s world, and so in a similar way to that text, I will proceed from west to east. Beginning in the Balkans, the central plains of Thrace and upland Macedonia were the crucial areas of productivity and population for the empire, together with the fertile flood plains of the Danube that marked the empire’s northern border. These plains are separated by major mountain ranges, and it was therefore through control over these mountain passes and rivers that the empire was held together, in particular through the named cities and fortresses shown on Map Four. One of the most important cities in the western Balkans under Alexios had been Dyrrachium (modern Durrës, Albania): this city and its province had seen heavy disruption caused by the Norman invasion of Robert Guiscard in 1081–5, and the follow up invasion of Bohemond in 1106–8. However, Alexios’ retention of this province, together with control over the Danube and especially the fortress city of Belgrade, meant that he had bases from which he could seek to reimpose imperial overlordship over the Serbs, whose lands lay within imperial borders.2 The weakness of the empire in the eleventh century had led to the rise of an independent Serb polity under King Constantine Bodin (died 1101): based in

2 For this reconquest see: Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, for the fortresses of Dyrrachium, see pp.  162–3, and for their refortification, see p. 181. Cf. Curta, Southeastern Europe, pp. 272–6. For the doukes of the theme, see pp. 183–4, noting that at least two of the three known governors were close relatives of John by blood or marriage, highlighting the province’s importance as a safe cornerstone from which the empire’s position could be rebuilt and expanded once more. For the rebellions and polities of the eleventh century, see: Fine, Early Medieval Balkans, p. 201, and Curta, Southeastern Europe, pp. 268–70 for the earlier client status after the conquests of Basil II. See Map Four—­Balkans.

The Horizons of 1118  79 Diokleia, he led a coalition of other župans (princes) of regional centres such as Zahumlje or Raška, but these places preserved their individual nobilities and institutions, and his headship did not survive his death.3 The Chronicle of the Priest tells us that his four sons feuded over their inheritance, while his nephew, Vukan of Raška, gained in power at Diokleia’s expense.4 Though Alexios attempted to intervene in order to install one of these Diokleian heirs as an im­per­ial client, this was not particularly successful on account of Norman and nomadic threats requiring a greater share of imperial resources. Chalandon aptly called this conflict the most obscure of the century, and though the Chronicle relates the rise and fall of many figures over several bloody decades, much of it is barely datable and impossible to correlate to other events elsewhere in Byzantium and the wider region on account of the uniqueness of the information found in the Chronicle, and its rare use of exact dates.5 However, the important events that would shape John’s actions in the region are notable exceptions: the Chronicle tells us there were twelve years of peace in Serb lands after Bohemond of Taranto’s Balkan invasion of 1106, and it further mentions the presence of John in the region while Alexios was still alive, giving us a clear date of 1118 for the latest round of dynastic feuding between Bodin’s heirs.6 The Serb lands were thus in a state of flux in this period, a situation compounded by the presence of peoples who lived across these already nebulous borders. On these lands, there were numerous tribes of Pechenegs and Cumans living south of the Danube and therefore within imperial borders, while yet more lived to the north of the lower Danube region, along with the semi-­nomadic Vlachs who were, ostensibly, a client people.7 These peoples seem at first sight to evoke the Balkans’ pejorative reputation for division long before the modern era, but upon further examination it becomes clear that this region was merely a dynamic and diverse territory that does not fit easily into conventional classifications. In the following chapter, we will see how this northern Balkan Danubian province (often referred to as the Paristrion in our texts after the Greek name for the Danube) evolved further in John’s reign, adapting to its mixture of peoples and geography.

3 Fine, Early Medieval Balkans, pp. 220–30, particularly p. 223 for the organizational make-­up of the various Serb principalities. Fine’s account derives from his interpretation of the Priest, XLIII–­XLVII, pp. 162–80. 4  Priest, XLII–­XLVII, pp. 162–80; Fine, Early Medieval Balkans, pp. 225–31. 5 Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, pp. 69–70. See Introduction. 6  Priest, XLV, p. 172; Fine, Early Medieval Balkans, p. 232; John is called ‘Caloioannes Cumano’ with the latter word either being a corruption of Komnenos or perhaps giving him an epithet for his later defeat of the Cumans, cf. Chapter Four. 7  It was a Vlach named Pudilos that had passed on to Alexios the message that the Cumans had crossed the Danube during the 1095 invasion, though equally some others helped the Cumans cross, demonstrating how the empire had lost its undisputed position of regional hegemon in this period. AK, 14.8, p. 454; V.  Spinei, ‘An Oriental Perspective on the Ethnic Realities of the Balkans in the Eleventh-­Twelfth Centuries: Michael the Syrian’, Archivum Eurasiae Medii Aevi 20 (2013), p. 205; Madgearu, Military Organization on the Danube, p. 144. Cf. n. 38.

80  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 North of imperial outposts such as Belgrade, the Serb clients and nomadic tribe lands lay the border with the Kingdom of Hungary on the middle Danube. Bounded by the Danube to the south and west and the Carpathian Mountains to the north and east, the Pannonian plain (Great Alföld) forms a naturally secure, steppe-­like zone where nomadic peoples can flourish. The hill country of Transdanubia that lies west of the Danube and east of the Austrian foothills of the Alps is almost as perfect, and so the Magyar tribes who settled there in the ninth century were in some ways merely the latest nomadic people to make this region their home. Unlike their forebears, however, this nomadic federation began to convert to Christianity in the late tenth century, and then began to integrate with the kingdoms of Christian Europe.8 Our texts often portray Hungary as a wholly Western European style kingdom of vassal lords by the twelfth century, and yet there are numerous suggestions that the transition from nomadism had yet to complete. We shall see this through the raids carried out by its kings, and the affinity between other nomadic peoples and the Hungarians in the next chapter. At the turn of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, Hungary was very much a rising power under King Coloman the Learned (c.1070–1116). He had extended Hungarian influence towards Croatia, Bosnia, and the trading cities of Dalmatia, all of which had previously been under nominal Byzantine authority. He was, therefore, a ruler whom Alexios did well to court through John’s marriage, though the fast-­moving nature of the situation after Coloman died would rewrite the relationship entirely. Looking north from Constantinople across the Black Sea was a vast region that on the map appears geographically far distant; yet, by dint of the empire’s northern province of Cherson in the southern Crimea, and the frequent migrations of nomadic peoples south towards the Danube, this was an area in John’s inner sphere. It was the western end of the great Eurasian steppe: grasslands on which nomadic peoples grazed their herds, dominated at this time by the Cumans.9 They would come to the cities of the theme of Cherson to trade, as these cities and the nomads each produced goods the other could not.10 This trade led to the 8 Cf. K.  Leyser, Medieval Germany and its Neighbours, 900–1250 (London, 1982), pp. 43–68; N. Berend, ‘Hungary in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries’, The New Cambridge Medieval History 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-­Smith (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 304–12; P. Engel, The Realm of St Stephen: A History of Medieval Hungary 895–1526 (London, 2019), esp. pp. 1–65. 9 Rus sources and the twelfth-­century Arab traveller Mohammed al-­Idrisi mention a divide between ‘Black Cumans’ and ‘White Cumans’: labels that Curta points out reflect al-­Idrisi’s scholarly approach more than political reality, but which certainly point to political disunity. Hungarian sources place the ‘Black Cumans’ in the steppes to the east of the Carpathians, which may also be the ‘Savage Cumans’ referenced in Rus sources in contradistinction to the other Cumans: al-­Idrisi, Géographie d’Édrisi, tr. P.  Jaubert (Paris, 1840), pp. 400–1; F.  Curta, Southeastern Europe in the Middle Ages (Cambridge, 2006), pp. 311–12; V.  Spinei, Ultimele valuri migratoare la nordul Mării Negre și al Dunării de Jos (Iași, 1996), pp. 125–6; P. Golden, ‘The Polovcii Dikii’, Harvard Ukrainian Studies III and IV (1979–80), pp. 296–309. 10  J.  Shepard, ‘Close Encounters with the Byzantine World: The Rus at the Straits of Kerch’, Pre-­ Modern Russia and Its World: Essays in Honor of Thomas S. Noonan, ed. K. L. Reyerson, T. G. Stavrou,

The Horizons of 1118  81 construction of new churches and housing in these cities in the twelfth century, especially in Tmutarakan and Bosporos-­Kerch, but also in Mangup and Eski Kermen in the south and south-­east of the Crimean peninsula.11 In addition to various seals from the Hagiostephanitai family, probably the most prominent local aristocrats, we find seals from various Komnenoi, including John’s son and co-­emperor Alexios.12 Such a sigillographic record suggests heavy imperial interests in the province, and direct engagement with the tribes is demonstrated through a remarkable enamel cup from the Chungul Kurgan, north of the Crimea: this bears all the hallmarks of a piece commissioned during the reign of Alexios or John, and testifies to imperial gift-­giving on the steppe.13 The fortifications of the harbour of Cherson were also rebuilt at the end of the eleventh century, which demonstrates how the security of the city remained a concern, whether that be from the threat of the steppe nomads, or those who lived beyond them. For beyond the lands of the steppe were the forests ruled by the Rus princes, who despite their distance remained highly connected to the Black Sea and Europe through the great northern rivers such as the Don. and J. D. Tracy (Wiesbaden, 2006), pp. 15–77, esp. pp. 62–5; Shepard, ‘ “Mists and Portals”: The Black Sea’s North Coast’, Byzantine Trade, 4th–12th Centuries, ed. M. Mango (Abingdon, 2009), pp. 421–42, esp. pp. 426–39; I.  Dimopoulos, ‘Trade in Byzantine Red Wares, End of the 11th–13th Centuries’, Byzantine Trade, 4th–12th Centuries, pp. 179–90. 11  A.  Bortoli and M.  Kazanski, ‘Kherson and its Region’, Economic History of Byzantium II, ed. A. Laiou et al. (Washington, DC, 2002), pp. 659–65; A. Ajbabin, ‘Die Mittelalterliche sidlung auf dem Plateau Eski Kermen’, Die Höhensiedlungen im Bergland der Krim: Umwelt, Kulturaustausch und Transformation am Nordrand des Byzantinischen Reiches, ed. S.  Albrecht, F.  Daim, and M.  Herdick (Mainz, 2013), pp. 165–232; M.  Aufschnaiter and B.  Tobias, ‘Untersuchungen zu den Höhlen der Siedlung Eski Kermen’, Die Höhensiedlungen im Bergland der Krim, pp. 233–50; R.  Schreg, ‘Forschungen zum Umland der Höhlenstädte Mangup und Eski Kermen – Eine umwelthistorische Perspektive’, Die Höhensiedlungen im Bergland der Krim, pp. 403–45; V.  Chkhaidze, ‘City Blocks of Matarcha-­Tmutarakan in the Last Third of the X–­ the First Third of the XIII Centuries’, Sixth International Kuban Archaeological Conference. The Conference Materials (Krasnodar, 2013), pp. 442–6; Chkhaidze, ‘Building Complexes and City Planning Matarcha–­Tmutarakan (Last Third X–­the First Third of the XIII Centuries)’, Sugdeya Collection VI (2016), 340–67; Chkhaidze, ‘The Restoration of Byzantium’s Authority in Bosporos (Last Quarter of the 11th Century), X International Seminar of the Byzantine ΧΕΡΣΩΝΟΣ ΘΕΜΑΤΑ: ‘Empire’ and ‘Policy’ (Sevastopol, 2018), pp. 167–72; Chkhaidze, ‘Byzantine Rule at the Bosporos (Last Quarter 11th–­Early 13th Centuries), Materials on Archaeology, History and Ethnography of Tavria. Vol. XXIII (Sebastopol, 2018), pp. 721–30. Contra: C. Zuckerman, ‘The End of Byzantine Rule in North-­ Eastern Pontus’, Materials on Archaeology, History and Ethnography of Tavria. Vol. XXII (Sebastopol, 2017), pp. 311–36. 12 V.  Chkhaidze, ‘The Byzantine Aristocracy in the Crimea and Taman: The Hagiostephanitai (12th Century)’, Vestnik Volgogradskogo gosudarstvennogo universiteta. Seriya 4, Istoriya. Regionovedenie. Mezhdunarodnye otnosheniya 23.5 (2018), pp. 131–7; Chkhaidze, ‘Byzantine Lead Seals Addresses to Matrarcha in the Sixth to the Twelfth Century’, Byzantine and Rus’ Seals Proceedings of the International Colloquium on Rus’-Byzantine Sigillography Kyiv, Ukraine, 13–16 September 2013 (Kiev, 2015), pp. 62–3; W. Seibt, ‘Some Interesting Byzantine Seals with Surnames in the Collection of Oleksii Sheremetiev’, ibid., pp. 85–93; V.  Chkhaidze, D.  Kashtanov, Andrey Vinogradov, ‘The Mysterious Seal of Alexios Komnenos from Tamatarcha’, Higher School of Economics Research Paper No. WP BRP 57/HUM/2014 (2014), pp. 3–22, available at: https://ssrn.com/abstract=2471445. 13 W.  Woodfin, ‘Within a Budding Grove: Dancers, Gardens, and the Enamel Cup from the Chungul Kurgan’, The Art Bulletin 98.2 (June 2016), pp. 151–80. On relations with the Cumans of the steppe in general, also see: A. Savvides, ‘Οί Κoμάvoι (Κoυμάvoι) καί τὸ Βυζάvτιo, 11oς–13oς αί μ.’, Byzantina 13 (1985), pp. 939–55.

82  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 These Rus princedoms had recently come under the hegemony of Grand Prince Vladimir II Monomakh of Kiev (1053–1125), though he was still opposed by some princes, such as Prince Volodar of Premsyl (?–1124).14 Alexios had arranged a marriage alliance with Volodar as part of a policy to bring both him and various Cuman tribes to his side in order to see off nomad invasions in the latter part of his reign.15 We shall see below how this diplomatic engagement formed part of a chain reaction that led to John’s own marriage, emphasizing that this northern diplomacy was no sideshow, but crucial to the empire’s foreign policy. It was essential for the management of steppe peoples in particular, as the next chapter will make abundantly clear. To the east of the Black Sea and south of the steppe was the kingdom of Georgia, whose location in the Caucasus meant that it played a role in Anatolia too. As with the Balkans, the Caucasus is characterized by heavily wooded mountain passes. Control over the major cities and fortresses that dominated these passes was therefore crucial, in addition to adept diplomacy with those beyond. This control was a hallmark of a resurgent Georgia under the extraordinarily dynamic King David IV ‘the Builder’. He, following the conquest of the eastern Caucasian region of Kakheti at the turn of the century, and the defeat of the Seljuk invasion at the battle of Ertzukhi (1105), embarked on a series of campaigns between 1110 and 1118. These resulted in the conquest of the key fortresses and towns of Samshvilde, Rustavi, Gishi, and Lori in the southern Caucasus, and David followed this up by turning north for a campaign against a Cuman tribe at the time of Alexios’ death.16 As the presence of Georgian ambassadors at John’s accession has already shown (see previous chapter), they too were a major part of John’s horizon despite the distance between their realms. For both John and David, the main mutual gain they sought was, however, focused on Anatolia rather than the steppe. Anatolia has extensive fertile coastlands on the western, Aegean, side, and narrower fertile regions on the northern Black Sea and southern Mediterranean coasts. Mountains divide these coastal strips from the dryer central plateau, and so once again the control of crucial fortresses and cities in the mountain passes were crucial for any who sought to rule Anatolia. Since the passage of the armies

14  M. Dimnik, ‘Kievan Rus’, the Bulgars and the Southern Slavs, c.1020–c.1200’, The New Cambridge Medieval History 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-­Smith (Cambridge, 2004), p. 259. 15  AK, 14.8, pp. 454–8; PVL I, D.  S.  Likhashev (Moscow, 1950), p. 185; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 205. 16  Zonaras, 18.28, p. 761; ‘The History of David, King of Kings’, tr. R.W.  Thomson, pp. 317–25; P. Golden, ‘The Turkic people and Caucasia’, Transcaucasia. Nationalism and Social Change. Essays in the History of Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia, ed. R.  G.  Suny (Ann Arbor, 1983), p. 59; Golden, ‘Cumanica I: The Qipcaqs in Georgia’, Archivum Eurasiae Medii Aevi 4 (Wiesbaden, 1984), pp. 57–64; Golden, ‘Nomads in a Sedentary World: The Case of Pre-­Chinggisid Rus’ and Georgia’, Nomads in the Sedentary World, ed. A.  M.  Khazanov and A.  Wink (Richmond, Surrey, 2001), pp. 46–51; Spinei, Romanians and the Turkic Nomads, p. 128.

The Horizons of 1118  83 of the First Crusade in 1097, Alexios had been working to wrestle the coastlands back from the various Turkic groups who had held them since imperial authority had collapsed there in the chaotic decades following the battle of Manzikert in 1071. Alexios’ brother-­in-­law, Megas Doux John Doukas, successfully restored much of the Aegean coast to imperial rule in the first years of the twelfth century, leading to a truce with Sultan Kilij Arslan I of Ikonion (modern Konya, at the south-­central end of the plateau) that lasted until the latter’s death in 1107. This truce gave Alexios the breathing room he needed first to see off Bohemond’s invasion, and then to spend several years rebuilding the empire’s shattered economy and administration.17 By 1115, the empire was on firmer ground in all respects. However, the new sultan in Ikonion, Melik-­Shah (also known as Şâhinşah, from the Persian for ‘King of Kings’), was threatening these reconquered Anatolian provinces, especially in the south-­west, apparently encouraged by Alexios’ declining health and consequent inaction.18 By 1116 Alexios felt well enough to campaign once more, and he was apparently determined not only to see off these raids but also to take the fight to Ikonion itself. The extent to which Kilij Arslan and Melik-­Shah held authority over the various tribes of inland Anatolia is somewhat obscure in our texts, as the detail of Alexios’ 1116 campaign will make clear; however, what is certain is that this expedition hinged on the capture of the mountain passes which led from the fertile coastal zones to the more arid plateau: passes which follow the river valleys and Roman roads through the area, and which today host railways and motorways.19 These were the focus of both Alexios’ last campaign, and John’s first as sole emperor, though both expeditions were surely executed with an eye on the powers of eastern Anatolia. Starting in the north-­east, though the Pontic city of Trebizond and other parts of the northern coast that made up the theme of Chaldia remained in imperial hands, Alexios had had recent trouble from the Gabras family who governed the city: this family had successfully defended the city from the Turks after Manzikert and so had begun to question their allegiance to Constantinople.20 The rebellious Doux Gregory Gabras was replaced shortly before Alexios’ death with his younger brother, Constantine, though John would eventually regret his father’s forbearance. Much of inland Anatolia north and east of Ikonion and south of the Pontic

17  There are multiple examples of Alexios restoring order in these years, including fiscal reform between 1106 and 1109, clerical reform, diplomatic activity with the Pisans, Genoese, and Venetians, and theological debates with the Papacy. See: A. Harvey, ‘Financial Crisis and the Rural Economy’, and P.  Magdalino, ‘The Reform Edict of 1107’, Alexios I Komnenos-­Papers, pp. 167–84 and 199–218, respectively. 18  AK, 15.1, pp. 461–3. 19  See Map Six; in the western provinces of Anatolia down to Attaleia, there are only two major routes to Ikonion: the overland route to the east of both Sozopolis and Philomelion, and the coastal road near Attaleia, which in the modern era comprise the routes of the 300 and 400/695/330 motorways, respectively. Avramea, ‘Land and Sea Communications’, p. 76. 20 Angold, Byzantine Empire, p. 130.

84  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 mountains was ruled by Emir Ghazi II Gümüshtigin (reigned 1104–34) of the Danishmendids: son of the Danishmend Ghazi who had first conquered the arid plains of Cappadocia, and who was to be immortalized in the thirteenth-­century tale of the Danishmendnâme, mentioned in Chapter One. Though he was challenged by various members of his extended family based in major cities across Anatolia, it was Ghazi who would emerge as John’s key Turkish rival in the region. On the southern coast there was the divided land of Cilicia; a land divided geographically as well as politically, as the coastal plains give way to dense foothills and then forested mountains, with rivers running from the latter to the former. Since the civil wars and Turkish incursions of the late eleventh century, Cilicia had become increasingly chaotic, a fact not so much related by our sources as proved by their disagreement as to who ruled different parts of it. With the establishment of the principality of Antioch after the First Crusade, the Latins had claimed much of Cilicia and enforced their rule over the major cities, only to lose some of these to the Cilician Armenian Prince Thoros II a few years later.21 His hold over this land was fragile at best, with the texts mentioning bandits in add­ ition to Turks, Latins, and Isaurians who lived in highland Cilicia.22 Who owned what in Cilicia in this period is as much a historiographical debate as anything else, as Armenian histories in particular tend to be over-­teleological regarding the rise of the Kingdom of Armenian Cilicia later in the century, seeing its roots in this period, for which they find evidence in Choniates and Armenian sources that were all written only after the said kingdom had become a reality. Furthermore, some historians draw continuity from ancient precedents all the way to the modern Armenia, seeing any Armenian action as part of a broader movement to nationhood.23 Such a clear teleology is, however, untenable in the early twelfth century, with the region one of chaos and possibility, rather than an Armenian 21  Thoros conquered Anazarbos c.1111, but the existing sources disagree about whether it was previously owned by the Latins or the empire, or governed by an independent lord who owed allegiance to neither. This uncertainty is typical of the period. Mat. Ed., pp. 200–19; Smbat Sparapet, pp. 38–53; J.  Ghazarian, The Armenian Kingdom of Cilicia during the Crusades The Integration of Cilician Armenians with the Latins (Richmond, 2000), pp. 113–15; Edwards, The Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia (Washington, DC, 1987), pp. 5–6. G.  Dedeyan, Les Arméniens entre Grecs, Musulmans et Croisés, 2 vols (Lisbon, 2003), pp. 593–614 and 716–28, respectively. 22  Italikos’ Oration on John’s 1137 campaign tells us that Tarsus was under the control of ‘Keltic barbarians’ while Anazarbos was under the control of Armenians: Italikos 43, p. 253. Prodromos mentions the defeated peoples of the whole campaign including Italians, Syrians, Latins, Persians, ‘Isaurians and sorrowing sons of Cilicia’ (‘καὶ σὺν Ἰσαύροις τοῖς πικροῖς καὶ σὺν παισὶ Κιλίκων’), Prodromos, XI, lines 133–6. Kinnamos calls this expedition John’s ‘Isaurian wars’: JK, p. 16. Basilakes also mentions John clearing the roads of bands of robbers, specifically ‘Skironas and Pitokamptes’ in references to two mythological bandits whom Theseus killed when he journeyed from Troezen to Athens: Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 56; Italikos also mentions clearing the roads and taming the mountains multiple times, implying a great deal of chaos: Italikos 43, p. 247. Throughout the accounts, there are occasionally clues based on what name sources give to sites, such as the Armenian toponym Geben, used by Kinnamos among otherwise Greek toponyms, hinting strongly that this site was Armenian: JK, p. 20; Edwards, Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia, p. 129, n. 10. 23  NC, p. 21; Smbat Sparapet, p. 53; Nicolle, Crusader Warfare, pp. 161, 182; Ghazarian, Kingdom of Cilicia; Edwards, Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia.

The Horizons of 1118  85 state in waiting.24 Kinnamos does not mention who owned what, while William of Tyre tells us that Antioch had ruled the province undisputedly for forty years, contrary to any other source, but reflecting at least some enduring Latin influence.25 The main message these sources convey is thus one of a land in flux. Beyond Anatolia lay the Latin Crusader States of Syria, the ‘Holy Lands’ known as Outremer, which in their first years expanded in fits and starts as subsequent, follow-­up expeditions of westerners arrived, despite many of the original cru­ saders returning west.26 Though farther to the east, the Kingdom of Jerusalem, the counties of Tripoli and Edessa, and in particular the principality of Antioch that had been part of the empire not so long ago loomed large in John’s plans, and we can see the roots of this in the treaties that would follow John’s marriage. With the exception of the county of Edessa, located in the highlands between the upper Euphrates and Tigris rivers, the rest of the states clung to the more fertile Mediterranean coastlands, connecting them to both Byzantium and the West by sea. Beyond them lay the two great Islamic powers of the age, though both were in more delicate positions by the twelfth century than in the eleventh, much like Byzantium. The Shia Fatimid Caliphate that in the tenth century had stretched across North Africa, Sicily, the Levant and Arabia now clung to just its core Egyptian territories. However, these remained some of the richest lands in the world, fed by the Nile and the locus of trade across the Red Sea to India and Africa as well as to the Mediterranean: Fatimid power was therefore in decline, but not yet spent, even if the years to follow would see further instability as both palace officials and military leaders launched coups and rebellions.27 In Mesopotamia the Sunni Abbasid Caliphs retained Baghdad, but since the eleventh century their political authority was entirely subservient to that of the Great Seljuk Sultan, whose vast empire stretched from the Levant, across modern Iraq and Iran to the borders of Afghanistan and Kazakhstan.28 1118 would see Sultan Ahmad Sanjar (1085–1157) 24  R. Hovannisian and S. Payaslian (ed.), Armenian Cilicia (Mesa, 2008), pp. 1–93, with papers by R.  Hovannisian and S.  Payaslian, R.  Hewsen, A.  Bozoyan, G.  Dédéyan, and C.  Mutafian that all address this issue; Lilie expresses doubts, a sceptical view with which I have sympathy, Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusades, p. 106. Dedeyan agrees with Lilie, and presents as many sides of the story as possible without passing clear judgement: Dedeyan, Les Arméniens, pp. 593–614. See: Lau, ‘Dream Come True?’, pp. 160–79. 25  JK, pp. 16–17; ‘per annos quadraginta a principe Antiocheno sine calumpnia possessam’, William of Tyre, 14.24, p. 663. 26 H.  E.  Mayer, ‘The Latin East, 1098–1205’, The New Cambridge Medieval History 4.2, ed. D.  Luscombe and J.  Riley-­Smith (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 644–9; M.  Barber, The Challenge of State Building in the Twelfth Century: The Crusader States in Palestine and Syria (Reading, 2009). 27  M. Brett, ‘Abbasids, Fatimids and Seljuks’, The New Cambridge Medieval History IV, c. 1024–1198, ed. D.  Luscombe and K.  Riley-­Smith (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 675–709; Brett, The Fatimid Empire (Edinburgh, 2017). 28  Ibid. C. Bosworth, ‘The Political and Dynastic History of the Iranian World (A.D. 1000–1217)’, The Cambridge History of Iran 5: The Saljuq and Mongol Periods, ed. J. Boyle (Cambridge, 1968), pp. 1–202; A.  Lambton, ‘The Internal Structure of the Saljuk Empire’, The Cambridge History of Iran 5, pp. 203–82; A. Peacock, The Great Seljuk Empire (Edinburgh, 2015).

86  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 rise to rule through the defeat of three of his brothers and a nephew in a civil war following the death of his father Melik-­Shah I. Sanjar’s continued rule over this vast area relied on the support of local rulers, balanced with the support of the nomadic tribes of whom the Seljuks had originally been a part. These internal problems were compounded by external challenges, in particular the expanding Qara Khitai (western Liao): dynasts of Chinese origin who had been expelled by their former subjects the Jin, and who were now forming their own central Asian empire. It is therefore no surprise that John did not feature prominently on Sanjar’s own horizon, as this Seljuk empire had other substantial challenges, though John was not irrelevant either as we shall see when we examine John’s eastern campaigns. Completing the outer sphere of John’s world there were of course the rising western powers of Latin Christian Europe. The most relevant to John were those of Italy: both the former Islamic Sicily and the formerly Byzantine lands of the south were now ruled by competing Norman counts, dukes, and princes, and though some of these acknowledged Alexios’ nominal overlordship, others supported the efforts of Bohemond of Taranto and Antioch to invade the empire.29 The mountains and farmlands of the south both saw their reflection in northern Italy, but also their contrast as this region had become increasingly dominated by competing city communes in this period, which rose as the old kingdom of Italy disintegrated.30 Venice, Genoa, and Pisa stand out as the most important to John due to their commercial interests in the empire, along the Dalmatian coast, and their involvement in the nascent Crusader states. The interest of these communes in commercial tax privileges would see them heavily involved in military affairs as well, and Venice in particular was a key player across the eastern Mediterranean. Between the north and the south lay the Papal lands of the Bishop of Rome, who was at once simply another temporal Italian ruler, and yet was also becoming the pre-­eminent Latin Christian religious authority in this period due to the success of the eleventh-­century Gregorian reforms, notably including the institution of the college of Cardinals as having the exclusive right to elect the Pope, rather than the Pope being appointed by any emperor.31 The eleventh century had seen the Papacy divided from the Western German Emperor by the investiture controversy over whether the emperor had the right to invest clergy, as well as by growing differences with the church of Constantinople, with both conflicts blending into the question of the evolving political authority

29  G. Loud, ‘Southern Italy in the Eleventh Century’, The New Cambridge Medieval History 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-­Smith (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 94–119; Loud, ‘Norman Sicily in the Twelfth Century’, The New Cambridge Medieval History 4.2, pp. 442–6. 30  G. Tabacco, ‘Northern and Central Italy in the Eleventh Century’, The New Cambridge Medieval History 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-­Smith (Cambridge, 2004), esp. pp. 90–3. 31 U.-T.  Blumenthal, ‘The Papacy, 1024–1122’, The New Cambridge Medieval History 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-­Smith (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 8–37.

The Horizons of 1118  87 of the Papacy.32 Though scholars have traditionally labelled the theological and political disagreements between Rome and Constantinople churches the ‘Great Schism’, more recent scholarship has tended to downplay their extent in this period, even if these events do highlight the growing differences between western and eastern branches of the Christian world.33 Emperor Alexios and Patriarch Nicholas III of Constantinople suggested the traditional ecclesiastical way to solve these issues in a letter to Pope Urban II in 1089, inviting him to Constantinople for an ecumenical council of the church.34 In the context of the first crusade, Urban and his successors would continue to negotiate with Alexios and the eastern church, and though a synod of eastern and western bishops was held at Bari in 1098 to begin to address pressing theological questions (involving the great western theologian, St Anselm of Canterbury), no real progress was made. Intriguingly, even Alexios’ great Norman rival, Bohemond, suggested a church council to Pope Pascal II in 1106 or 1108 as a way both to resolve these theo­ logic­al issues and adjudicate his disputes with Alexios, but with the latter’s victory and the treaty of Devol, this also came to nought.35 Pope Pascal’s own letter to Alexios summarized the impasse, as he insisted on recognition of papal primacy by the patriarch of Constantinople before negotiations con­tinued, whereas the east would only do so if they were sure of the orthodoxy of the west, and that Rome was not intending to rule over them after such recognition.36 These debates would continue. Meanwhile the investiture controversy and the associated wars had raged across the great forested hills and mountains of the German Empire since the 1070s, though as of the early twelfth century Emperor Henry V (1105/6–1125, 32  Ibid. U.-T. Blumenthal, The Investiture Controversy: Church and Monarchy from the Ninth to the Twelfth Century (Philadelphia, 1988); H. Vollrath, ‘The Western Empire under the Salians’, The New Cambridge Medieval History 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-­Smith (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 50–71. 33 Treadgold, State and Society, p. 689; A. Papadakis and J. Meyendorff, The Christian East and the Rise of the Papacy (Crestwood, N.Y., 1994), pp. 69–106, 151–98; T. Kolbaba, ‘The Virtues and Faults of the Latin Christians’, The Byzantine World, ed. P.  Stephenson (London, 2010), pp. 116–20; J.-C. Cheynet, ‘Le schism de 1054: un non-­événement?’, Faire l’événement au Moyen Âge, ed. C. Caruzzi and H. Taviani-­Carozzi (Aix-­en-­Provence, 2007), pp. 299–312; Cheynet, ‘Some Thoughts on Relations between Greeks and Latins at the Time of the First and Fourth Crusades’, Byzantium and the West Perception and Reality (11th–15th c.), ed. N.  Chryssis, A.  Kolia-­Dermitzaki, and A.  Papageorgiou (London, 2019), pp. 84–101; J. Harris, ‘The ‘Schism’ of 1054 and the First Crusade’, Crusades 13 (2014), pp. 1–20; Harris, Byzantium and the Crusades, pp. 47–52; J.  Phillips, ‘Crusader perceptions of Byzantium, c.1095 to c.1150’, Byzantium and the West Perception and Reality (11th–15th c.), ed. N. Chryssis, A. Kolia-­Dermitzaki, and A. Papageorgiou (London, 2019), pp. 102–17; Angold, ‘Belle Époque or Crisis?’, pp. 601–2; A. Siecienski, The Filioque: History of a Doctrinal Controversy (Oxford, 2010); Siecienski, The Papacy and the Orthodox: Sources and History of a Debate (Oxford, 2017). 34  W.  Holtzman, ‘Die Unionsverhandlungen zwischen Kaiser Alexios  I.  und Papst Urban II. im Jahre 1089’, BZ 28 (1928), pp. 38–67; Kolbaba, ‘Latin Christians’, p. 121; Siecienski, Papacy and the Orthodox, pp. 262–3; Siecienski, The Filioque, p. 117. 35 Siecienski, Papacy and the Orthodox, pp. 263–7; Siecienski, The Filioque, pp. 117–20; J.  Rowe, ‘Pascal II, Bohemond of Antioch and the Byzantine Empire’, Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 49 (1967), pp. 192–202. 36  Pope Paschal II, ‘Epistola ad Alexium imperatorem Constantinopolitanum’, PL 163, pp. 388–9.

88  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 who was married to Matilda of England, daughter of King Henry I, son of William the Conqueror) began to settle these issues. They culminated in the Concordat of Worms with Pope Calixtus II in 1122: this formalized the emperor’s authority to preside over elections of bishops and to receive an oath of loyalty, but it was the church that invested them, and the Pope would be elected completely in­de­pend­ ent­ly.37 This allowed for an attempted restoration of political order, and Henry V would spend his last years seeking to bring the magnates of Germany back into line, as would his successors. Despite this, grandees such as Margrave St Leopold III of Austria (1073–1136) and Duke Vlasislav I of Bohemia (c.1065–1125) operated relatively independently of Henry’s suzerainty when it came to wars and diplomacy; thus, they too became a factor in John’s relationship with Hungary in particular. Beyond the western empire, on the furthest periphery of John’s world, lay France and Iberia at the other end of the networks of trade and pilgrimage that traversed the Mediterranean, while the kingdoms in Scandinavia and the British Isles provided men for the emperor’s bodyguards, the Varangians, in add­ition to their own pilgrims bound for the Holy Land. This was John’s world in the early twelfth century, though for the first part it was still Alexios at the helm navigating Byzantium’s place within it. The two crucial elements of Alexios’ foreign policy in his last years were the attempted pacification and reintegration of the Balkans, initially through John’s marriage, then through John’s own first independent campaign, and the second through Alexios’ Philomelion campaign that sought to restore inland Anatolia to the empire. These would set the international stage for John’s assumption of his father’s role.

The Marriage Alliance that Won the War, and John’s Serb Intervention The key figure at the heart of the empire’s troubles in the early twelfth century was Bohemond of Taranto: the Norman who had seized Antioch in 1098 during the First Crusade; the son of Robert Guiscard (c.1015–85) who had invaded the empire in the early 1080s; and the man who in 1105 attempted to organize his own ‘crusade’ against the empire, with Albert of Aachen mentioning he may have done so with Turkish support.38 This invasion was a serious threat in itself, but one which also had the potential to become a nightmare coalition aligned against Alexios. Regardless of any potential Turkish involvement, Bohemond’s uncle was 37  Vollrath, ‘The Western Empire under the Salians’, pp. 68–71. 38  Albert of Aachen, p. 683. The question of whether the expedition should be seen as a ‘crusade’ has been extensively debated, see: G.  Theotokis, ‘Bohemond of Taranto’s 1107–8 campaign in Byzantine Illyria—­Can it be viewed as a Crusade?’, Rosetta 11 (2012), pp. 72–81; Bárány, ‘Politics of Piroska’s Marriage’, pp. 72–6; Angold, ‘Belle Époque or Crisis?’, pp. 623–4; Stephenson, ‘Balkan Borderlands’, pp. 678–80.

The Horizons of 1118  89 the prominent Count Roger I of Sicily (c.1031–1101). Roger’s daughter Felicia had been the first wife of King Coloman of Hungary, whose second wife was Euphemia, daughter of Vladimir II Monomakh of Kiev, whom Alexios had recently slighted through his alliance with Volodar of Premsyl.39 In order to avert this potential nightmare coalition, Alexios negotiated in 1104/5 with Coloman that John, his heir, should marry Coloman’s cousin, the daughter of the previous Hungarian King Ladislaus I (c.1040–1095): Piroska-­Eirene. This arrangement has usually been seen as a fairly desperate lifeline for the empire, and one that also jeopardized Alexios’ existing Venetian alliance, as he appeared to have allowed Hungary to seize Dalmatia from the Venetians in a move that cannot have gone down well in Venice.40 However, there is evidence that Alexios not only ensured that Coloman’s Hungary did not join this coalition, and, through it, Vladimir’s Kiev, but also secured its active participation against Bohemond.41 Thus, through John’s marriage, Alexios had secured military support in the form of a Hungarian expedition against Apulia during Bohemond’s 1107–8 invasion, diplomatic support at the peace negotiations, and even some lands and riches as a dowry.42 Further, Piroska-­Eirene was also second cousin to the western Emperors Henry V and his eventual successor King Conrad (1093/4–1152), which perhaps contributed to the subsequent good relations and even alliance between the western and eastern empires later in John’s reign.43 Additionally, the Venetian-­Hungarian conflict over Dalmatia was a decade away, and so in 1105/6 this marriage can be considered a ‘triumph of diplomacy’, despite it having the potential to create problems with Venice.44 The lands of Piroska’s dowry may also have been a mixed blessing; though we cannot be certain of the exact territory included, a mid-­thirteenth-­century village named Pyros on the north bank of the Danube (modern Rumenka, Serbia) was supposedly named for

39  Gaufredus Malaterra, De Rebus Gestis Rogerii Calabriae et Siciliae Comitis et Roberti Guiscardi Ducis fratris eius, ed. E. Pontieri (Bologna, 1927), pp. 199–201; AK, 14.8, pp. 454–8; PVL I, p. 185; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 205; Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 180; Bárány, ‘Politics of Piroska’s Marriage’, p. 67. 40 M. Font, Koloman the Learned, King of Hungary (Szeged, 2001); tr. M. Miklán (unpublished PhD thesis: University of Pécs, 2001), pp. 73–4; Z. J. Kosztolnyik, The Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, Géza I to Emery (1074–1204) (Boulder, 2006), pp. 101–2; J.  Tuzson, Istvan II (1116–1131) A Chapter in Medieval Hungarian History (New York, 2002), p. 51; F. Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni: Political Relations between Hungary and Byzantium in the 12th Century (Budapest, 1989), p. 13; Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, pp. 148–9; Stephenson, ‘Balkan Borderlands’, pp. 680–1; Spinei, Romanians and Turkic Nomads, pp. 124; Madgearu, Military Organization on the Danube, pp. 148–9; Lau, ‘Multilateral Cooperation’, pp. 19–22; Stanković, ‘John II Komnenos before the year 1118’, pp. 17, 20; Bárány, ‘Politics of Piroska’s Marriage’, pp. 66–7. 41  The non-­involvement of Kiev was also possibly due to Coloman’s marriage to Euphemia not lasting the year as a result of her being caught in adultery shortly after the wedding. 42  The Hungarian ‘kral’ appears prominently as ‘συμπενθέρος’ [co-­father-­in-­law] of the emperor in the text of the treaty of Devol, AK, 12.28, p. 423; Bárány, ‘Politics of Piroska’s Marriage’, esp. pp. 64–9, 72–85. 43  Bárány, ‘Politics of Piroska’s Marriage’, pp. 86–7; Lau, ‘First Western Empress’, pp. 143–51. 44  Stephenson, ‘Balkan Borderlands’, p. 681; Bárány, ‘Politics of Piroska’s Marriage’, pp. 64–6.

90  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 being the place Piroska stopped on the way to Constantinople, and was therefore possibly a piece of Hungary that she brought to her marriage.45 These lands being in Byzantine hands could easily provoke Hungarian irredentism, suggesting another reason why the good relations between Hungary and Byzantium were not to last. Nevertheless, this alliance was crucial for ending the Norman invasion, and for the signing of the treaty of Devol in 1108, which was intended to solve the problems raised by Bohemond’s seizure of Antioch during the First Crusade. The terms of the treaty gave Alexios exactly what he wanted, while still showing consideration to Bohemond: the Norman would continue to rule Antioch, though now as an imperial doux and even sebastos (giving this enemy of the state a rank level to many in the emperor’s family); he would allow the appointment of a cleric of Hagia Sophia as patriarch of Antioch; he would provide troops when the emperor required, and for this he would be rewarded with further lands in Syria when they were captured: and all of this in return for an oath of allegiance to Alexios and John.46 Unfortunately this diplomatic coup was never to be enacted, as Bohemond died in 1111 and his nephew Tancred refused to honour the terms; despite a few diplomatic overtures to the Pisans and Pope Pascal II, the enforcement of the treaty of Devol was left to John to see through.47 Despite this, John’s marriage had allowed Alexios to defeat a major invasion and given the empire additional security in the west so that it could recover further, and, indeed set Alexios free to refocus on Anatolia. We can see these tactics through Alexios’ equivocation between Hungary and Venice in the years which followed: Dandolo’s Chronicle notes that whenever the Venetians asked for Byzantine help against Hungary in repayment for Venetian aid against Bohemond, Alexios ‘acknowledged their request, but sought council which drew out and delayed any action’ until eventually the Venetians launched an independent expedition in 1115.48 This proved decisive enough for Alexios to support Doge Ordelafo Falier (died 1117) in his expedition in July, which with some fortunate treachery on the part of an archbishop, secured Zadar, Šibenik, 45  Sághy, ‘Greek Monasteries’, p. 11, n. 2. There is also a fanciful tale in the Syriac Anonymous Chronicle of 1234 in which John gained a mountain containing a large amount of gold along with his bride. The perennially short of funds Alexios was likely to have been keen on the marriage for whatever dowry he was able to secure. See: Chron. 1234, p. 63; Guevara, Aftershocks of Byzantium, p. 32. 46  AK, 13.12, p. 422; Stanković, ‘John II Komnenos before the year 1118’, p. 19; Vilimonović, Structures and Features, esp. p. 334. 47  Ibid. J. Richard, The Crusades c.1071–c.1291, tr. J. Birrell (Cambridge, 1999), p. 130; Magdalino Empire of Manuel, pp. 31–2; A.  Jotischky, Crusading and the Crusader States (Harlow, 2004), p. 69; Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, p. 46; J. Pryor and M. Jeffreys, ‘Alexios, Bohemond, and Byzantium’s Euphrates Frontier: A Tale of Two Cretans’, Crusades 11 (2012), pp. 57–64; T. Asbridge, The Creation of the Principality of Antioch, 1098–1130 (Woodbridge, 2000), pp. 92–103; A. Buck, The Principality of Antioch and its Frontiers in the Twelfth Century (Cambridge, 2017), p. 189. 48  Dandolo, ‘Chronicon Venetum’, p. 229; Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, pp. 202–3; Alexios was also engaged in his campaign against the Seljuks in Anatolia at this time, so staying out of a western conflict was in his interest, cf. Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, p. 18.

The Horizons of 1118  91 and Split, meaning that despite further hostilities Venice was in control of the central Dalmatian coast by 1118.49 This would have ended in a negotiated peace, with the Hungarians controlling the north, and the Venetians the southern part of the coast, had not Coloman died in February 1116, leaving the fifteen-­year-­old Stephen II as king. By 1118, the now seventeen-­year old Stephen had suffered a major defeat in battle against his northern neighbours the Bohemians at the River Olšava after negotiations between Stephen and Vladislav I of Bohemia broke down, the two powers having been at war intermittently since 1108.50 Stephen’s attempt to gain a victory against Margravial Austria to salvage some Hungarian pride then backfired, as although he led a devastating raid that carried off a considerable amount of plunder in 1118, this was followed by a similarly devastating campaign by Margrave Leopold III of Austria in alliance with Duke Bořivoj II of Bohemia (Vladislav’s eldest son), which led to continuous raiding along Stephen’s western and northern borders throughout his reign.51 Thus, Hungary in 1118 was reeling on all fronts: its young king almost certainly felt betrayed by the empire, having previously committed to helping Alexios in his hour of need, only for Alexios to side first with the Venetians and then let the Hungarians fight alone against Bohemia and Austria, a situation that con­ tinued even when his aunt Eirene-­Piroska became Empress of Byzantium alongside John. As for Venice, Falier had been killed at Zara in battle with the Hungarians in 1117, and the new doge was Domenico Michele (died 1130), who was aided by his wife, the extremely capable Dogaressa Alicia, and between them they would serve the interests of Venice well in the years to come.52 Hungarian instability and these Venetian expeditions may suggest another reason why we find John assuming his first known field command in the Balkans around 1118, as with such a fast evolving political situation, the empire having troops nearby would certainly have been prudent. The principal reason for John’s appointment to this command in the Balkans was, however, the latest round of Serb infighting. The relative peace these lands had found after Bohemond’s invasion was shattered in 1118 when Jakvinta, the widow of King Constantine Bodin, contrived to install her son Juraj (also called 49  Ibid., pp. 230 and 203, respectively; ‘Annales Venetici Breves’, Monumenta Germaniae Historiae XIV, ed. H. Simonfeld (Hanover, 1883), p. 71; Kosztolnyik, Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, p. 103; It has been noted by Makk as well as Moravczik that the Venetians were usually ready to accept nominal imperial suzerainty over Dalmatia as long as they could trade, therefore their alliance may also have been preferable on that score. Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, p. 18; G. Moravcsik, ‘Les relations entre la Hongrie et Byzance à l’époque des croisades’, Studia Byzantina, ed. J Harmatta (Budapest, 1967), p. 316. The status of the southern cities is unclear, though in the aftermath of the Byzantine-­ Hungarian war, it appears imperial suzerainty may have been restored, see Chapter Six below. 50  CFHH, pp. 136, 224–6, 531–2, 805–7; SRH I, pp. 434–7; the Chronicon Pictum mentions that Stephen’s regent, named Janus, was actually in charge of the army and so he was directly to blame for this defeat. Tuzson, Istvan II, p. 83. 51  Ibid., pp. 90, 156, 259, 315, 504, 559, 1764. Makk, Árpáds and the Comneni, p. 19. 52 E. Staley, The Dogaressas of Venice: The Wives of the Doges (London, 1910), pp. 66–70.

92  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Đorđije or George) as king, causing those Diokleians opposed to him to flee to Dyrrachium to request imperial aid.53 With Alexios ailing, John led an expedition against Juraj on their behalf, seizing towns such as Shkodër and Kotor, capturing Jakvinta at the latter and bringing her to Constantinople where she died.54 Another claimant to the Diokleian throne, Grubeša, was then installed as a king loyal to the empire, while Juraj fled to Vukan of Raška. However, John and Grubeša were not able to pursue Juraj and impose imperial authority on Raška too, as it was then that Alexios’ health began to fail, so Imperial troops withdrew to Dyrrachium and John hastened to Constantinople. Vukan, or perhaps his successor Uroš I (it is unclear when exactly Vukan died), promised token allegiance to the empire and John was in no position to demand more from him or Juraj in 1118 as he had to secure his own succession in Constantinople.55 Therefore, due to Alexios’ death, John was unable to impose a more secure settlement upon Raška and Diokleia, nor to influence further the balance of Balkan power between Hungary and Venice. A resolution to these western challenges therefore remained elusive, and they would have to wait to be resolved later in his reign. Of greater importance was John taking up the imperial interest in Anatolia, an objective which Alexios had been pursuing in his last years.

Alexios’ Last Campaign to Philomelion and John’s Consolidation The practical goal of Alexios’ 1116–17 Anatolian campaign was to end the threat posed by Turkish raiders by striking back at them, though Anna also relates a speech whereby her father claims he was there to reverse the outcome of the battle of Manzikert by either driving the Turks from Anatolia or forcing them to join the empire.56 Between these humbler and more ambitious goals lay the fact that a campaign in this region would secure interior lines of communication and logistics across Anatolia, in addition to reopening the land connection with isolated imperial outposts such as Attaleia on the southern coast. The Anatolian coastal regions would also be more protected with an interior hinterland, and subsequent campaigns would be better supported by increased logistical backing, in addition to the benefit of taking the fight to enemy territory rather than remaining on the defensive. The campaign consisted of a series of skirmishes from the coast to the Anatolian plateau, culminating in the battle of Philomelion against Melik-­Shah of the Seljuk sultanate of Ikonion. As related by Anna Komnene, Alexios defeated the Seljuks in battle and then secured a peace treaty from Melik-­Shah, whereby he 53  Priest, XLV, p. 172; Fine, Early Medieval Balkans, p. 232. 54 Ibid. 55 Ibid. 56  AK, 15.6, 476–9; A. Beihammer, Byzantium and the Emergence of Muslim-­Turkish Anatolia ca. 1040–1130 (Abingdon, 2017), p. 375; Lau and Shlyakhtin, ‘Mas’ūd I of Ikonion:’, p. 231.

The Horizons of 1118  93 would return to the Empire all lands under his suzerainty.57 But, as with Bohemond, this treaty of Philomelion would never be enforced due to the death of Melik-­Shah, who was killed by his brother Mas’ud (allegedly he was first blinded by a candlestick originally given to him by Alexios, then strangled with a bowstring).58 As with Devol, so with Philomelion: Alexios had accomplished the removal of the immediate threat to the empire with this campaign, as the sultanate was weakened, both by Alexios’ victories in battle and due to Mas’ud’s succession. Mas’ud was distracted from making any attempt upon Byzantine security in the years that followed: in order to secure his throne in Ikonion, he allied with the Danishmendids, an arrangement sealed through his marriage to a daughter of Ghazi II. In order to repay the emir for helping him take Ikonion he was then required to campaign with him against Emir Tughrul Arslan of Melitene, another brother of Mas’ud.59 Thus, Alexios had removed a threat, and might soon have regained territories lost to the empire in the eleventh century had it not been for yet another unfortunate death. This being so, the empire did not secure those interior lines to Attaleia, nor the benefit of an economically productive and protected hinterland for its coast through this campaign. As with Antioch, John would inherit this unfulfilled objective, though his achievement of it was certainly facilitated by Alexios’ Philomelion campaign. With John holding the reins of power in 1118, there was, of course, a significant domestic need for a military victory to cement his rule, and ideally one that proved him a worthy successor to his father. Regardless of any strategic imperatives, he is likely to have chosen an arena that would both impress domestic audiences in Constantinople and show clear gains after just one campaigning season. Though John could have returned to the Balkans where he had been located before hearing of his father’s worsening condition, the token acceptance of im­per­ ial rule provided by Uroš was enough to stabilize the situation there, even if Juraj’s designs on Diokleia remained unresolved. This being so, John turned to Anatolia, where the security situation had deteriorated since 1117. What emerges from these years in Asia Minor is that John aimed to finish what Alexios had started in the region: the reclamation of both the western Anatolian plains and the whole south-­western coast. Given Sultan Melik-­Shah’s murder by his brother Mas’ud, John had two choices in 1119 if he was to follow the optimum strategy of retaking Anatolia by first assaulting the western coastlands, and then the lands now held by the Seljuks of Rum: either he could seek to compel Mas’ud to cede his lands, as Mas’ud’s brother

57  AK, 15.6, pp. 476–9; Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, pp. 78–80; See Map Five. 58  AK, 15.6, pp. 479–80; Mich. Syr. 16.1, p. 606, p. 219. Guevara, Aftershocks of Byzantium, p. 53. For Mas’ud, see: Lau and Shlyakhtin, ‘Mas’ūd I of Ikonion’, pp. 230–52. 59  Mich. Syr. 15.12, p. 600, p. 205; Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, pp. 44–5.

94  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 had previously promised at Philomelion, or he could accept that the sultanate of Rum would never become a client state, and seek to conquer it by force of arms. This situation was complicated further by Mas’ud’s loose authority (at best) over other Turkish elites, derived from his weak position as Sultan on account of his accession by murder, and then his alliance with the Danishmendids which forced him to campaign away from his capital at Ikonion. Our texts give us little information as to the exact reasons for John’s opening move: Kinnamos merely tells us John wished to regain lost land, while Choniates adds the detail that the Turks had broken treaties with his father (perhaps an oblique reference to Philomelion), and were ‘in great numbers overrunning the cities throughout Phrygia and the Maeander’.60 Doubtless, news of an emperor’s death was treated as an op­por­tun­ ity by raiders, and with Mas’ud’s lack of control, and, indeed, personal absence on campaign against Tughrul, there was no one to restrain them. With the winter to plan, John and his commanders could therefore expect their enemy to have no reinforcements and so would have made a carefully thought-­out choice of target: their opening gambit was to be the reconquest of Laodikeia on the Lykos, in south Phrygia. Laodikeia’s exact location is likely to have been near the ruins of the ancient city, placing it on the flat plain and so more vulnerable than many cities. Both chroniclers mention Laodikeia being ruled by Alp Qara (also referred to as Alpicharas and Picharas), one of the ‘most eminent men [among the barbarians]’.61 Choniates tells us that John routed Alp Qara, then built a wall around Laodikeia after the campaign, ‘putting everything else in good order’.62 Kinnamos adds that John camped near Philadelphia while sending Axouch to lay siege to the city, and then joined him (when the latter requested aid) with the whole army, and took Laodikeia almost without resistance, before ‘leaving a garrison and filling it ad­equate­ly with supplies’, and returning to Constantinople, meaning this was likely a very short but very successful campaign in 1119.63 From a geo-­political standpoint, the target makes perfect sense: reconquering Laodikeia would reopen the land routes across Anatolia, from Bithynia and Mysia in the north to Karia and the major city of Attaleia in the south, as well as provide a hinterland for the reconquered areas of the west coast via the narrow pass west from Laodikeia,64 Thus, the intended goal of the earlier Philomelion campaign would be fulfilled. Regarding John’s specific operational strategy and tactics, we

60  JK, p. 5; NC, p. 12, p. 9. 61  JK, pp. 5–6; tr. p. 14; NC, p. 12; tr. p. 9. 62  NC, p. 12; tr. p. 9. Choniates mentions the city being unwalled by Manuel’s reign, while Odo of Deuil mentions the city being evacuated in 1148, presumably because of the lack of walls. However, considering the city successfully defended itself from the Turks in 1133, it must have had walls at that point. Perhaps by the 1140s the city outgrew the walls built by John, reflecting growth and prosperity. See: NC, 124; Odo of Deuil, pp. 113–14; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, pp. 63–6. 63  JK, pp. 5–6; tr. pp. 14–15; see Chapter Eight. 64  Cf. Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, p. 87; Korobeinikov, ‘Turks’, p. 711.

The Horizons of 1118  95 find him adopting the prudent strategy of sending Axouch ahead with an army contingent along the narrow west-­east valley road to Laodikeia first while the emperor himself camped at Philadelphia: Laodikeia’s location on a relatively flat plain made it likely to fall without too much resistance, but that road would also have been a perfect site for a potential ambush, and so by sending Axouch first, John cleared the way and thereby prevented any risk to his larger army.65 This is implied by Choniates too when he mentions the ‘rout’ of Alp Qara and 800 other ‘eminent men’, presumably referring to at least a minor battle.66 It is unlikely that Alp Qara, an experienced soldier, would have been caught inside Laodikeia, and neither Choniates nor Kinnamos mentions that Alp Qara either surrendered or was captured or killed. Therefore, he must have escaped, an eventuality made much more likely by some form of field engagement. This specific mention of Alp Qara also raises the possibility that there was a more specific reason for this target beyond the geostrategic location of Laodikeia. It is noteworthy that neither Choniates nor Kinnamos mentions that Alp Qara was a lieutenant of Mas’ud, or in any way connected to the Sultanate of Ikonion. In Beihammer’s study of early Turkish Anatolia, he notes that these were not ‘unruly groups of marauding nomads but well-­equipped military units’, part of the ruling elite of Ikonion, though in a more recent article he states that the sultanate did not have effective control over them.67 This was, therefore, a campaign to halt Ikonion’s expansion in the region, and retaking Sozopolis in particular was essential to prevent Mas’ud from expanding to the coast. These groups of Turks may not have been disorganized nomads, but nor were they necessarily loyal to Mas’ud; either way, John’s seizing of Laodikeia was a decisive demonstration to Mas’ud that John could bring the might of the imperial army to bear upon the sultanate, if Mas’ud did not honour the treaty of Philomelion and become an imperial client. One way or another, the empire was determined to reintegrate these lands. This determination is demonstrated when John followed this campaign by targeting Sozopolis itself in spring 1120. Choniates tells us that he did this both because offence was the best defence for the provinces he already had, and to keep his army fully trained and ready for war—­a comment which perhaps indicates that John did not necessarily need to campaign to take these lands back, but also that an additional show of force was required to bring Mas’ud to the negotiating 65  We know from accounts of later campaigns written during John’s reign that the emperor and his lieutenants conducted extensive military operations and skirmishes on every campaign. By doing so, he was attempting to conquer the land in its entirety and not just the major fortified points. See Chapter Six, in addition to the strategy discussed in Lau, ‘The Power of Poetry’, pp. 207–9. 66  JK, pp. 5–6; tr. p. 14; NC, p. 12; tr. p. 9. 67 Beihammer, Byzantium and the Emergence of Muslim-­Turkish Anatolia, p. 376; Beihammer, ‘Turkish Migration’, pp. 182–3.

96  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 table. Kinnamos by comparison merely tells us that John set out to conquer.68 Though it goes unmentioned in the major accounts, another factor here may have been the proximity of the endlessly besieged fortress of Choma in this area. Though the exact site is still unclear, Choma was the sole surviving imperial bastion in this region of Anatolia throughout the turbulent eleventh and early twelfth centuries, and its soldiers, the Chomatenoi, were noted as a particularly hardened unit within the armies of both Nikephoros III and Alexios I; the location is mentioned by Choniates too.69 John would have had local military support for a campaign in the area, and reconnecting this fortress to the imperial frontier defence network would have further secured his territory in south-­western Anatolia. Sozopolis was a far more ambitious target for conquest due to its location on a ‘steep and overhanging site’.70 There was only one approach, and siege engines could not be deployed.71 John turned this challenge to his advantage with inspired tactics. Choniates and Kinnamos mention that John gave command of a detachment of his army to a bodyguard (δορυφόρος) of his named Paktiarios, probably the protonobelissimos and later Doux John Paktiarios attested by two seals.72 Kinnamos also mentions another bodyguard called Dekanos, who may be the same or related to either the George tou Dekanou commemorated in the Pantokrator typikon, or Nikephoros Dekanos who was kouropalates and anagrapheus of Nisos in the Balkans (modern Niš, Serbia).73 If these identifications are correct, both these members of John’s bodyguard and their families went on to be promoted to high office and were assumedly mentioned in imperial dispatches

68  NC, p. 12; JK, p. 6. 69  AK, 1.4–5, 11.5, pp. 19–22, 338; NC, p. 178; for Choma in general, see: C. Foss, ODB, p. 426; H. Ahrweiler, ‘Chôma-­Aggélokastron’, REB 24 (1966), pp. 278–83. Thonemann has recently proposed it should be identified with one of the fortified hilltops near the ancient Roman garrison town of Eumenea, which continued to have a bishop into the twelfth century (see: J. Darrouzès, Notitiae episcopatuum Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae: Texte critique, introduction et notes (Paris, 1981), p. 336); the maps in this volume locate the site just to the east of Sozopolis. See: P. Thonemann, The Maeander Valley: A Historical Geography from Antiquity to Byzantium (Cambridge, 2011), pp. 158–61. Further discussion of Choma can be found in Chapters Eight and Nine. 70  JK, p. 6; tr. p. 15. 71  NC, pp. 12–13; C.  Foss, C.  Foss, ‘The Defences of Asia Minor against the Turks’, The Greek Orthodox Theological Review 27 (1982), pp. 153–7; Deluigi agrees with Foss that the walls of Sozopolis were constructed by Romanos IV (1068–71), but also posits that John made serious repairs to the site: Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, pp. 66–7. Further discussion of this site will be found as part of John’s fortress network in Chapter Ten. 72  His name suggests a Turkish origin. Seyrig 821 was found in Beirut, suggesting Paktiarios was a commander for John in his Near Eastern expeditions, by which time he had become doux. He is listed as merely protonobelissimos on Orghidan no. 95. Les sceaux byzantins de la collection Henri Seyrig, ed. J.-C. Cheynet (Paris, 1991), no. 211; Documents de sigillographie byzantine: la Collection C. Orghidan, ed. P. Laurent (Paris, 1952), no. 95, p. 196. 73  Pantokrator Typikon, p. 45; Nikephoros Dekanos: DO I, 32.1; Gautier, ‘L’Obituaire du Typikon du Pantocrator’, p. 257. Nikephoros was also briefly made governor of Constantinople alongside Eustathios Kymineianos in 1107 when Alexios was on campaign against Bohemond in 1107. AK, 13.1, p. 384; B. Skoulatos, Les personnages byzantins de l’Alexiade: Analyse prosopographique et synthèse (Louvain-­la-­ Neuve, 1980), pp. 86–7.

The Horizons of 1118  97 back to Constantinople, reports that went on to be the sources for Kinnamos’ and Choniates’ histories. Their descriptions of the plan by which John gained Sozopolis are very similar, telling us that John commanded his subordinates to take the detachment of δορυφόροι to the gates with the rest of the cavalry and shoot at the Turks guarding them.74 When the Turks sallied, they were to ‘flee unashamedly’, and then turn and fight when the Turks were lured out. They were subsequently to secure the gates and trap the Turks between them and the rest of the army. According to Kinnamos, the cavalry unit did just that.75 Choniates differs in his telling by adding a few details. As well as making no mention of Dekanos, he relates that the cavalry lured the Turks away and then the rest of John’s army assaulted Sozopolis, switching the metaphorical ‘hammer and anvil’ divisions of the army around from Kinnamos’ account.76 However, they both agree that after taking Sozopolis, the army seized the fortress of Hierakokoryphitis and many other fortified towns and strongholds near Attaleia.77 Hierakokoryphitis has been identified as the classical Korakesion later named Kalanoros, the ‘beautiful mountain’, which is the modern Alanya.78 This is certainly the major stronghold in the region, sited on a mountainous peninsula with an ideal view of both the sea lanes and the major west-­east coastal road between the mountains and the sea, and so would have been an essential conquest for John to secure the imperial position on this part of the Anatolian Mediterranean coast, as well as to reopen the land route to isolated imperial holdouts in this area. Between here and the fortress city of Seleukeia, modern Silifke, we find several fortresses that would come to form an essential part of the empire’s defences in the region, as will be discussed at greater length in Chapter Ten. John’s initial conquest had therefore restored to the empire the entire coastal strip between Attaleia and Seleukeia for the first time since the eleventh century. This was a major early achievement of John’s regime, guaranteeing that all would recognize him as a worthy bearer of the imperial title. Though the coast was now secure, Sozopolis’ role in the defence of imperial Anatolia appears to have been intended as the lynchpin towards further expansion inland. Sozopolis’ location (near classical Apollonia in Pisidia) demonstrates that John was continuing Alexios’ strategy of taking land from the Sultanate of Ikonion to secure the southern Anatolian plains. Thus, it is likely 74  The so-­called Monaspa Bodyguard of the Georgian Kings were armed with lances and bows and so the Byzantine equivalent could well have been similar. The Monaspa played a crucial part at the battle of Didgori, see below. 75  NC, p. 13; JK, pp. 6–7. 76 Ibid. 77  NC, p. 13; JK, p. 7. 78  S. Vryonis, ‘Nomadization and Islamization in Asia Minor’, DOP 29 (1975), p. 45; H. Crane, ‘Evliya Çelebi’s Journey through the Pamphylian Plain in 1671–72’, Muqarnas 10 (1993), pp. 157–68; S. Redford, Landscape and the State in Medieval Anatolia: Seljuk Gardens and Pavilions of Alanya, Turkey (Oxford, 2000), pp. 14–15; N. Krabbenhöft, A Veneer of Power: Thirteenth-­Century Seljuk Frescoes on the Walls of Alanya and Some Recommendations for their Preservation (unpublished master’s thesis, Koç University, Istanbul) (2011), pp. 51–2; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, pp. 74–5; TIB 5.1, pp. 311–12.

98  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 that between Laodikeia and Sozopolis the frontier was moving eastwards across all of Anatolia. The impregnability of Sozopolis to assault made it an ideal site from which to defend that territory from this time forth.79 Furthermore, knowing that after the successful seizure of Sozopolis John consolidated the southern frontier by taking further targets suggests that the emperor’s preferred policy was to retake the entire territory controlled by Ikonion, and whenever he had the choice he appears to have returned to this policy throughout his reign: to enforce by the sword, or by treaty, the return of Roman lands first guaranteed by the treaty of Philomelion. This was the broader strategic picture inland that lay beyond John’s immediate concern of a military victory to cement his domestic position. Despite his reputation as the warrior emperor, however, John’s campaigns were also underpinned by an active diplomacy which gave him every advantage in Anatolia.

An Orthodox Black Sea Alliance? John expanded his father’s policy of marrying male kin to foreign brides. This marriage diplomacy went hand in hand with military co-­ordination, and it built upon the strategic priorities evident from his period of co-­rule with his father.80 As John rose to sole rule in September 1118, the crucial marriage arranged in 1116 was that involving Princess Katya of Georgia, daughter of David IV, together with another unnamed foreign bride from the Caucasus who arrived with the ambassadors that acclaimed John in 1118.81 The groom was most likely Alexios Bryennios Doukas, son of Anna Komnene and Nikephoros Bryennios, though whomsoever Katya or the unnamed bride of 1118 married, these nuptials demonstrate clear continuity in the alignment between David of Georgia and his fellow ‘re-­building’ monarchs Alexios and John.82 Both Alexios’ Philomelion 79  The exact location of Sozopolis has not been proven beyond doubt, but its location near classical Apollonia in Pisidia is shown by its replacement of the latter in Byzantine administrative lists, and the likelihood that when Apollonia was abandoned in late antiquity, Sozopolis was the more fortified location to which the city was move; this may be the steep hill where the current town of Oluborlu is located: W. Ramsay, The Historical Geography of Asia Minor (New York, 1972), pp. 400–1. 80  Cf. Lau, ‘Multilateral Cooperation’, pp. 19–36. 81  The twelfth-­century Georgian Chronicle does not mention who exactly Katya married, only that she and her sister Tamar (who married Shirvanshah Manuchehr III of Shirvan) reflected their father’s glory by marrying the potentates of the east and west. ‘History of David, King of Kings’, tr: Thomson (1996), p. 325; M.-F. Brosset, Histoire de la Géorgie de l’Antiquité au XIXe siècle (St. Petersburg, 1849), p. 360; R. Prinke, ‘Kata of Georgia’, Foundations 3 (2011), pp. 489–502. Katya was sent to Byzantium in 1116, while the Georgian ambassadors who acclaimed John were those that accompanied a woman due to be married to the elder of the Kaisar’s sons, according to Zonaras, see: Zonaras, 18.28, p. 761; R. Prinke, ‘Kata of Georgia, Daughter of King David IV the Builder, as Wife of Sebastokrator Isaakios Komnenos’, Foundations for Medieval Genealogy 3 (2011), esp. 490–4. 82  Ibid. Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 205; Varzos, Genealogia, pp. 308, 316–18, n. 66 for the unnamed bride; L. Garland & S. Rapp. ‘Mary of Alania: Woman and Empress between Two Worlds’, Byzantine Women: Varieties of Experience, 800–1200, ed. L. Garland (London, 2006), p. 121; E. Jeffreys,

The Horizons of 1118  99 campaign and John’s Laodikeia and Sozopolis expeditions occurred con­tem­por­ an­eous­ly with David’s own offensives westwards. This aligned the monarchs of Byzantium and Georgia politically, though the geographically distant locations of their campaigning meant they would not have been of great help to each other strategically at this stage. However, there is one intriguing mention by Ibn ­al-­Athir that Doux Constantine Gabras of Chaldia and 5,000 men were defeated by Balak, governor of Melitene, at ‘the castle of Sarman in the area of Andukan’, implying that John may have directed his easternmost doux to aid David in battle as a concrete expression of their alliance.83 Though this one mention goes uncorroborated, it does at least attest that in the eyes of their Islamic foes, the two Christian monarchs were aligned. While John took Sozopolis, David achieved his greatest success against the Turks. His achievements had led the Muslims of Tblisi and Ganja to appeal jointly to the western Great Seljuk Sultan Mahmud II, deputy of Sultan Sanjar. Despite his tender age of only 16 he formed a coalition against David led by his brother Tughrul of Nakhichevan, Najm ad-­Din Ilghazi (who had formerly ruled an Armenian principality of Mayafariqin on the upper Tigris and had previously been offered the rule of Tblisi but refused due to fear of retribution from David), and Manuchehr III of Shirvan, who had married one of David’s other daughters but feared David might next target his own territory.84 Rather than reverse David’s successes, this coalition led to David and his son Demetrios’ greatest victory at the battle of Didgori on 12 August 1121, where despite overwhelming odds their forces defeated the Islamic coalition through mastery of the mountainous terrain in particular. This victory allowed David to expand his territory to include a new capital at Tblisi in 1122–3, and then the emirate of Shirvan and the Caspian port of Derbent in 1124, defeating Cuman tribes en route, thereby more than doubling the size of his kingdom.85 Whether by mere virtue of the simultaneous campaigning of the two monarchs, or indeed the possibility that the marriage alliance between them consisted of an actual military coalition against the Turks, these synchronic deeds of John and David go some way to explaining their mutual success as their enemies were in retreat on multiple fronts, and so could not lend aid to each other. Again, it should be stressed that this was an alliance made in the

‘The Sebastokratorissa Irene as Patron’, Female Founders in Byzantium and Beyond, ed. L.  Theis, M. Mullett, M. Grünbart, with G. Fingarova and M. Savage (Vienna, 2014), p. 179. 83  The only two Andukans known are in Ferghana, Transoxania, and at the village of Sarakhs in Khurasan, both of which are very far to the east. Though neither seems likely, Gabras’ force was potentially heading east of Anatolia proper to aid David directly if Ibn al-­Athir is to be believed; Ibn al-­Athir, The Chronicle of Ibn al-­Athir for the Crusading Period from al-­Kamil fi’l-­ta’rikh Part 1, tr. D.S. Richard (Aldershot, 2006), p. 227. Equally, such expeditions were not unknown as under Basil II an expedition went as far as Lake Urmia in Persia: Holmes, Basil II, pp. 484–5. 84  ‘History of David, King of Kings’, tr. Thomson, pp. 309–53; D. Rayfield, Edge of Empires: A History of Georgia (London, 2012), pp. 92–3; Beihammer, Emergence of Muslim-­Turkish Anatolia, p. 378. 85 Ibid.

100  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 final years of Alexios’ life; as such it is another example of the continuity between Alexios’ last years and John’s first years of rule with his own son Alexios. The coronation of John’s eldest son, the young Alexios, was, as already discussed, an act of legitimization and imperial spectacle to demonstrate the power and stability of his regime. His choice of bride in 1122 was, however, the final part of a diplomatic rapprochement between Byzantium and the other major polities bordering the northern steppe, as the bride was Vladimir II Monomakh of Kiev’s granddaughter Dobrodjeja Mstislavna, known as either Eupraxia, Eudokia, or Eirene in Byzantium.86 Though we do not know whether John or Vladimir initiated the marriage negotiations, the fact that it occurred demonstrates a warming of relations between Byzantium and Kiev, allowing both rulers to focus on other matters at the least, and possibly implying shared goals and an alliance of a similar nature to that with David in Georgia. This marriage became very much a live issue in 1122, when John’s ability to choose his campaigns at will was suddenly curtailed. On arriving in Constantinople for the winter, John received word that nomadic barbarians, ­likened to locusts by Choniates, had crossed the Danube in huge numbers, invading and despoiling imperial territory.87 John needed every ally in the fight to come, but surveying his first few years as sole emperor he could be quietly confident that plans were progressing well. Challenges to imperial rule had not been neutralized, but nor were rivals in open rebellion, and more importantly John had proved his right to rule by extending imperial control in Anatolia. He had gained a hinterland for the regions reconquered by his father Alexios around the turn of the century, and re-­ established land connections with cities such as Attaleia. The renewal of Alexios’ alliance with Georgia through a second marriage, together with the marriage that allowed for a rapprochement with Kiev, also gave the empire allies in the wars to come. There was much more to be done if John wished to see the eleventh-­century empire restored, but in facing the nomadiinvasion of 1122 John had the op­por­ tun­ity to achieve something that his father, and indeed all emperors since Basil II, had been unable to accomplish: secure a lasting solution to the defence of the Danube frontier.

86  Pantokrator Typikon, p. 43; Gautier, ‘L’Obituaire du Typikon du Pantocrator’, p. 249; ‘Gustinskaja letopis´’, PSRL II (St Petersberg, 1843), p. 292; ‘Ipat’evskaja letopis’, PSRL II.I, ed. A.  A.  Šachmatov (Moscow, 1923), p. 1122; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 206–7; Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 13; B. Hill, Imperial Women in Byzantium 1025–1204: Power, Patronage and Ideology (Harlow, 1999), p. 107. 87  NC, p. 13; JK, p. 7.

Kiev

0

Vladimir II Monomakh

I C M A D O N

200

400 miles 400

N

600 km

Sea

T R I B E S

Casp

Terebovl Vasilko

200

0

ian

Premsyl Volodar

H U N G A RY Stephen II

ALANIA

Cherson

Tmutorokan

Ossetia

D H

Dristra 1086

Danub e R. ae

mu

k Blac

Paristrion

s Mts Berrhoia 1122

Constantinople Levounion 1091

ROMAN EMPIRE Map Two  Black Sea.

Bithynia

‘ d IV avi

GE

Sea

e Builder ”

GIA O R“Iron

Gates” Daryal Pass

Didgori 1122

Tblisi

Samshvilde

Lori

Paphlagonia

DA

G

ha

Trebizond

NI

zi

II

SH Gü

Ani

Derbent

Rustavi

Kakheti

Ganja Gishi

Chaldia

ME

mü

NDI

shti

gin

DS

Constantinople Major City City Pass Battle

Four Nomad Invasion Despite Choniates’ biblical analogies of locusts and destruction that were about to sweep over the empire, it had actually been only a few years since the last Cuman raid across the Danube in 1114.1 This invasion was in many ways merely the latest iteration of the ‘nomad problem’ from which the empire had suffered since Basil II had absorbed the Bulgarian state in the eleventh century, and which had been exacerbated by the eleventh-­century crisis that had also allowed the Turks into Anatolia. But it was also the invasion that ended in imperial victory at the battle of Berroia: a victory marked long after John’s reign with an annual festival. This victory feast was still celebrated until at least the close of the twelfth century, making it emblematic of John’s military legacy: this was John’s Agincourt, his Trafalgar, his Antietam, his El Alamein. To contemporaries, this was his greatest victory, and John used it to its maximum propaganda effect.2 John may have accompanied his father to face the 1114 Cuman raid, and so in 1122 together with his now considerable field experience John would have been as prepared, if not more prepared, than any emperor had been since the nomad problem had first arisen for Byzantium. Our sources highlight how John secured every advantage, military and diplomatic, in order to guarantee his victory before battle was even joined. Perhaps more significantly, many of the defeated nomads became imperial clients afterwards, demonstrating further why Berroia must be acclaimed among John’s greatest successes. He turned a potentially ruinous invasion into a materially beneficial campaign that expanded his army, secured the empire’s northern borders from nomadic attacks, and earned a huge boost to his and the empire’s reputation. John’s experience was, however, not the only reason why his methods appear as more successful than his predecessors in removing this nomad threat: the twelfth century provided new opportunities for different rulers around the Black Sea to work together to deal with a problem they all faced. This period saw a transformation in the fortunes of the settled peoples around the Black Sea against the nomads, with John and his contemporaries all redressing the balance against them.

1  AK, 14.8, pp. 454–6. 2  The battle of Trafalgar (1805) is possibly the best parallel. ‘Trafalgar Day’ is celebrated to the present day by Commonwealth navies; it was celebrated by the general public until the First World War, a hundred years after the original battle, just as Berroia was.

Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143. Maximilian C. G. Lau, Oxford University Press. © Maximilian C. G. Lau 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198888673.003.0005

Nomad Invasion  103 This chapter will analyse the events of this dramatic victory, in the context of the diplomatic and military factors that led to it, before turning to how John built upon that success in order to secure the northern border in the longer term. The course of the battle itself is also one of the few examples where we can analyse the battlefield tactics of John’s army, as well as its ethnic composition, his use of diversely armed troops and the importance of commanders such as Axouch and John’s brother Andronikos. Reconstructing a Byzantine ‘face of battle’ for Berroia can therefore shed light on John’s army, and its development in this period. Finally, the aftermath of the invasion allows John’s frontier policy in the Paristrion to be understood, though amidst this success we see that John’s contemporaries did not stand idly by, as Venice took advantage of the emperor’s preoccupation with the nomad invasion.

Facing the Horde—­the Battle of Berroia and Its Prelude The Rus chronicles record that in c.1121, Vladimir II Monomakh of Kiev carried out a successful campaign to expel nomads in his domain, whom the chroniclers name specifically as the Oghuz, Pechenegs, and Berendei tribes.3 Those same sources mention that the Cumans now dominated the wider Steppe, driving the Oghuz and Pechenegs away from their previous grazing lands along the River Don. Further, that while the Berendei moved to Hungarian lands before returning to the Rus in 1139, the Pechenegs and Oghuz were funnelled along the Black Sea coast, directly towards imperial lands. This larger view of events does however raise the issue of the exact ethnicity of the nomads, a question which has been debated extensively in the secondary literature, and which needs to be analysed to understand the nature of the nomadic invasion and thus John’s response to it. Choniates and Kinnamos refer to the invaders with the classicizing Σκυθοι, Skythians, or indeed simply Βάρβαροι, rarely using the more precise Πατζινάκοι or Πετζινάκοι, or indeed Κομάνοι for the Cumans, though Michael the Syrian

3 ‘Ipatіevskaja letopis´’, PSRL II (St Petersberg, 1843), p. 8. Also: ‘Letopis´ po Boskresenskomu spisku’, PSRL VII (St Petersberg, 1856), p. 25; ‘Gustinskaja letopis´’, PSRL II, p. 292; ‘Holmogorskaja letopis´’, PSRL I, p. 33, 42; The suggestion that Monomakh’s offensive may have caused the nomad invasion is proposed in: Spinei, Romanians and the Turkic Nomads, p. 126; Curta, Southeastern Europe, pp. 312–13; A.  Paroń, The Pechenegs: Nomads in the Political and Cultural Landscape of Medieval Europe (Leiden, 2021), p. 369. It has also been suggested that the Pechenegs’ migration in the eleventh century in particular may have been due to climate change, though this idea has also been contested as not being supported by enough data; thus Vladimir’s campaign seems the most likely primary cause of the migration. For the argument that climate caused these nomadic migrations, see R. Ellenblum, The Collapse of the Eastern Mediterranean. Climate Change and the Decline of the East, 950–1072 (Cambridge, 2012), passim. For criticism, see: Preiser-­Kapeller, ‘A Collapse of the Eastern Mediterranean’, passim, esp. pp. 200–10.

104  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 refers to this as the ‘Cuman War’.4 Though various historians have argued over whether the invaders were primarily Pechenegs or Cumans, the contribution of the Rus texts makes plain that this was no monolithic, unified, Pecheneg or Cuman invasion, but one that was made up of many peoples.5 This is also suggested by one of Prodromos’ epitaphs for John. Here, the poet tells us John defeated the western ‘Getae’, who were a mixed race, a ‘Skythian Chimaera’, who like the mythical beast and all nomad confederations was multi-­headed, and, thus, multi-­ethnic.6 Indeed, with many Pechenegs and other nomads already living south of the Danube, this invasion would have grown en route with opportunistic warriors keen for the plunder and lands such a horde could gain. Further, Choniates relates that over the winter of 1121–2, the horde was encamped in multiple locations with different chiefs, many of whom John was able to bring over to his side through feasts and ‘gifts of silk and silver’: his specific use of Skythian-­speaking envoys demonstrated the empire’s long acquaintance with these peoples, and knowledge of how to deal with them.7 Such political organization and the methods of dealing with them is standard in the typology of nomadic societies, and thus both John and the nomads were following well-­rehearsed patterns of behaviour at this point in the invasion.8 The mixed nature of the horde is confirmed by the Ecloga Basilicorum, which outlines that an appeal could be lodged with a higher court within ten days of a sentence, not counting rest days, both original and those introduced more lately, such as for victories. It then gives the specific example of the victory feast for the destruction of the Cumans or Pechenegs, ‘κατάλυσιν Κομάνων ἢ Πατζινάκων’.9 All in all, Choniates and Kinnamos tell us that there were many tribes, and that is exactly what they were: a diverse mixture of Pechenegs, Cuman and Oghuz tribes, some of which were driven from the steppe by Vladimir of Kiev, some of which were previously living in the corridor between the Black Sea and the

4  NC, pp. 13–14; JK, p. 7; Mich. Syr. 15.12, p. 599, p. 206. The Chronicle of the Priest of Diokleia also refers to John as ‘Caloioannes Cumano’: Priest, XLV, pp. 75–6, which may be awarding John the latter Latin epithet for a great victory over the Cumans, though it could also be a corruption of Komnenos. 5 Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 48; A. P. Horváth, Pechenegs, Cumans, Iasians: Steppe Peoples in Medieval Hungary (Budapest, 1989), p. 31; Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, pp. 106–8; Stephenson, ‘Balkan Borderlands’, p. 682; Papageorgiou, ‘Βυζάντιο και οι Σέρβοι, p. 358; Paroń, Pechenegs, pp. 368–70. 6 ‘ἡ δυσμικὴ δὲ τῶν Γετῶν πανσπερμία, ἡ Σκυθικὴ χίμαιρα’, Prodromos, XXV, lines 35–6. 7  JK, p. 7; tr. p. 16; NC, p. 14. 8  Standard studies include: A.  M.  Khazanov, Nomads and the Outside World (2nd ed., London, 1994), specifically pp. 164–97 on political organization and pp. 198–227 on relations between nomads and settled; T. J. Barfield, The Perilous Frontier Nomadic Empires and China (Oxford, 1989), pp. 5–8 on steppe political organization and frontier relations. 9  Ecloga Basilicorum, p. xvii; First noted in: S. Ivanov and A. Lubotsky, ‘An Alanic Marginal Note and the Exact Date of John II’s Battle with the Pechenegs’, BZ 103.2 (2011), p. 600; Paroń suggests that calling this feast the festival of the Pechenegs was in reference to the victories of Komnenian emperors since Isaac I Komnenos in 1059, and that therefore this was inaugurated as a dynastic feast that emphasized how the Komnenoi had always defended the empire from the nomads: Paroń, Pechenegs, p. 371.

Nomad Invasion  105 Carpathians, some of which had already settled south of the Danube. They had all opportunistically combined into a horde to plunder, or even carve a homeland for themselves out of the rich provinces of the empire. Defeat for John would therefore have meant yielding the Paristrion to this horde permanently, as well as rendering the economic and political heartland of Macedonia and Thrace permanently vulnerable to attack from the north. Worse even than this, defeat would have meant a weakening of John’s domestic support that was so newly earned, and also the empire’s still precarious international reputation: for though Alexios had laid the foundations for recovery, and John’s opening campaign in Anatolia had been an auspicious start to the reign in continuing that legacy, it would all be undone if this nomad invasion were not dealt with successfully. John’s response was calculated. Choniates and Kinnamos both mention that the emperor ensured that the expedition would be as well prepared as possible before they set out, with Choniates specifically saying John spent time to ‘gather the Roman forces, equipping them with the best arms possible’.10 This set the tone for John’s policy, whereby he loaded his hand with as many cards as possible to take on the nomads. While his troops were gathered, equipped, and no doubt trained, he launched a diplomatic offensive to bring some of the tribes over to him through ‘feasts . . ./and gifts of silk garments and silver cups and basins’, with Kinnamos saying this was successful and that many changed allegiances. Choniates tells us that this policy at least diverted the nomads, allowing John to bring his forces up against them while they debated peace with the empire.11 The chroniclers’ accounts then follow their usual form, with Kinnamos slightly denigrating John’s achievements by alleging they were only possible through bribery, while Choniates paints John as the grand strategist by distracting the enemy with these bribes, while all along intending to lure them to honourable battle. The truth is unclear, as there is no specific mention of the nomads fighting alongside John in the battle to come (though there is mention of what may be nomadic cavalry, and as shall be seen, such troops had enlisted by later campaigns). Nevertheless, the ease with which his settlement of the nomads was achieved afterwards hints that John had already shown his generosity and good faith before the battle, inclining his former enemies towards reaching an accommodation. This may have been aided still further by a particularly harsh winter, as to the east Michael the Syrian noted that in this year even the Euphrates froze, though whether these cold conditions stretched to the Balkans is uncertain.12 Whether freezing conditions contributed to this whittling of the enemy numbers still further or not, the battle of Berroia was still by no means a foregone conclusion as our sources make plain, with Kinnamos telling us it was ‘for some while in the balance’, and Choniates describing it as ‘one of the most frightful and

10  JK, p. 7; NC, p. 14; tr. p. 10.

11 Ibid.

12  Mich. Syr. 15.7, p. 543; tr. p. 111.

106  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 terrifying battles ever fought’.13 John continued to seize every advantage regarding the battle itself: he attacked on his terms in the April morning twilight, carefully selecting the field of battle, while many of the nomad leaders still had not decided whether they were going to come over to him or not.14 This sapped the will of the tribesmen to fight as they knew they could attain what they wanted by surrendering. The course of the battle loosely followed that of Alexios’ victory over the Pechenegs at Levounion in 1091. The discipline of John’s army first threw back the nomads on the open field, so that they retreated to their laager.15 This was a mobile fortification constructed from their wagons, similar to the corrals of the nineteenth-­century American frontier. For the first part of the battle, we have some references in two Greek poems regarding the heroics of John’s brother Andronikos, and the emperor’s friend and Megas Domestikos Axouch. Though almost hidden in a highly rhetorical section containing a great number of scriptural quotations, we have some details in a verse oration addressed by Basilakes to Axouch, possibly delivered shortly after the battle as the historical details within it mainly concern Skythians. Here, Axouch storms enemy ‘phalanxes’ and bears the brunt of the battle as a companion-­at-­arms of the emperor and commander of his warriors, before pursuing the remainder of the ‘Skythians’. These are then ­likened to the mythological, many-­headed Hydra whose heads regrew when they were cut off. Like Herakles, John beheads the Hydra while Axouch is likened to Iolaus, Herakles’ nephew, companion, and charioteer, who burnt the Hydra’s stumps so they would not grow back.16 Andronikos meanwhile, in a monody composed for his death in c.1130, is also described as an Homeric hero in a section that describes John as ‘Skythian-­bane’.17 Thus, we have John with at least two of his major commanders all fighting in this engagement. After the enemy withdrawal to their wagons, however, the battle reached a yet more difficult stage. In similar past engagements, settled peoples fighting the nomads had usually considered the day won and allowed the nomads to withdraw, but John was determined to breach the wagon fortress and end the threat of these nomads permanently. Choniates and Kinnamos tell us that many died assaulting the wagons, while the Fornmanna Sögur specifically mentions that first the emperor sent in Greeks, who lost many men and then fled, then Latin Franks and Flemings who fared 13  JK, p. 7; NC, p. 14. 14  Ibid. Ivanov and Lubotsky, ‘Alanic Marginal Note’, p. 602. 15  AK, 8.5, p. 249; 18.22, pp. 740–1; Cf. M. Lau, ‘The Battle of Beroia: A Byzantine Face of Battle’, The Byzantinist 1 (2011), pp. 8–9: http://oxfordbyzantinesociety.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/ obsnewsweb.pdf. 16 ‘καὶ τὸ βέλος ἐκεῖνο τὸ Σκυθικὸν ῾τόσσον ἀπὸ χροὸς ἔεργεν᾽, ὡς μὴ βληθῆναι τὰ καίρια’ ‘καὶ σὺ μὲν ὡς κεφαλῆς τοῦ βασιλέως ὑπερμαχόμενος’ ‘οὕτως οἱ παρασπισταὶ τοῦ βασιλέως προκινδυνεύετε καὶ τῆς κεφαλῆς οἱ πόδες προασπίζοντες βάλλεσθε’ and ‘τὸν καυτῆρα προσεπιθήσων καὶ τὰς ὑδρογενεῖς κεφαλὰς τὰς παλιμφυεῖς’ in Basilakes, Or. 5, p. 90. 17 ‘Σκυθολοιγέ’, Prodromos II, esp. lines 46–66.

Nomad Invasion  107 equally poorly.18 At this point, there was a meeting of the army leadership that resulted in the Varangian Guard being sent into battle, which each of our sources portrays in a different light. Choniates represents this initiative as a cunning plan of John’s, conforming to his usual paradigm of portraying John as the model emperor, complete with a portrayal of the emperor leading his bodyguard into battle himself after prayers to the Virgin.19 Kinnamos, by contrast, has John doing this against the wishes of his Roman advisors, implying he was an impulsive and foolhardy commander, though such an assault would perhaps be the natural reaction of a ruler who wished to lead his best troops against an enemy that was tiring.20 Both Kinnamos and the oration by Basilakes also mention that John had suffered an arrow wound in the leg at this point, and so John may well have led this assault because his blood was up.21 The Fornmanna Sögur (and the other Norse Sagas with fewer details) specifically relates that the emperor was angry, particularly after being told that he should use his ‘wineskins’, that being the slang name for his Varangian bodyguard.22 The emperor then replied that he would not waste his ‘jewels’ by throwing them away against so great an enemy, but then the Captain of the Guard, named as ‘Þórir Helsingr’ in the Fornmanna Sögur, declared that he and his men would be willing to leap into the fire if that would purchase the emperor’s pleasure.23 The emperor then told them to pray to St Olaf for victory—­in some versions the Virgin and St Olaf, in common with Choniates’ account—­and they swore to build a church to the same saint or saints before charging the nomads’ wagon-­fortress, with no mention of whether the emperor accompanied them himself or not. In all versions however, the attack is dramatically successful: the axes or swords of the Varangians demolished the wagon-­ramparts, allowing the rest of the army entrance, and though some Pechenegs fled they were rounded up by the Roman pursuit, leading to ‘captives beyond number’.24 Some of the Norse Sagas give the additional information that the Varangians captured the blind ‘over-­king’ of the many barbarian kings, and that both the Varangians and the emperor saw a noble warrior on a white horse riding in front of them, in

18  Fornmanna Sögur V, p. 136; Dawkins, ‘Echo in the Norse Sagas’, p. 246; If true, this could be because the Latin troops were more heavily armoured than the native Byzantine troops, though such a discussion must be considered in a broader study. 19  NC, p. 15. 20  JK, p. 8. 21 Basilakes, Or. 5, p. 90. 22  Fornmanna Sögur V, p. 136; Flateyjarbok II, p. 380; Heimskringla XX; Saga Olafs konungs ens Helga, p. 242; Dawkins, ‘Echo in the Norse Sagas’, pp. 246–7; the drunkenness of the Varangians as the reasons for such a nickname is attested in multiple sources throughout the period: Blöndal, Varangians of Byzantium, p. 239. 23  Fornmanna Sögur V, p. 136; Dawkins, ‘Echo in the Norse Sagas’, p. 246. The surname is a common one derived from the historical region of Hälsingland in Sweden. 24  JK, p. 8; NC, pp. 15–16; Also the Italikos Monody and Norse sources above. Geisli narrates it particularly well by relating the men calling on St Olaf, and then cleaving shields under arrow fire; after resisting a charge of heathens they managed to clear the wagon fortress. See: Geilsli, pp. 101–6.

108  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 reference to St Olaf giving the Varangians victory.25 This reference to the Varangians riding is noteworthy, as it implies they were here acting as mounted infantry. As an early form of dragoon, they not only would have been the perfect unit to have as a mobile reserve but also would have been an ideal unit to breach the wagon fortress: riding in quickly while under fire, to then dismount and use their axes. As elite lifeguards to the emperor, it would make sense if they were mounted, as the Alexiad attests they were under Alexios; so the success of the Varangians here can likely be attributed to their role as mounted infantry.26 As for the promised church, a fourteenth-­century document records a small monastery dedicated to the Virgin of the Varangians behind the chancel of Hagia Sophia, while there is mention of a Church of St Olaf in Constantinople (sup­ posed­ly containing the saint’s sword as a relic) in another twelfth-­century saga.27 Thus, Norse tradition is if anything more reliable than our Greek sources for these details as they are, perhaps surprisingly, corroborated in other sources. What is clear is that this was a conflict of legendary proportions, fitting for Norse sagas and works of imperial rhetoric, and its reputation was well earned by the results of this battle. All of these accounts also demonstrate that far from being entirely an army of mercenaries, following the reverses of the eleventh century, as is generally assumed, John’s army did in truth contain a good number of ‘native’ troops. Many of the foreign troops were also fully enrolled in the army as auxiliaries, or as part of a subject people’s commitment to support the empire, and the same pattern can be seen in all of John’s future campaigns.28 Indeed, Kinnamos and Choniates tell us that even those who were not rounded up were eager to swear allegiance to John after the battle, with Kinnamos telling us that the Pechenegs served for a long time, and are mentioned on multiple occasions by both Greek and Latin sources later as being a valued part of the

25  Saga Olafs konungs ens Helga, p. 242; Passio et miracula beati Olaui, p. 77; ‘Legendae aliquot veteres de Sancto Olavo Rege Norvegiae’, p. 539; Dawkins, ‘Echo in the Norse Sagas’, pp. 246–7. The earliest version of the story, in Geisli, merely mentions the prayers and the battle; this should possibly be seen as the most realistic version that was then embellished by later writers. See Geisli, pp. 101–6. 26  AK, 4.6, pp. 131–6. Though various general histories attest it was common for Anglo-­Saxons to ride to battle and then fight on foot, most references of this sort are derived from Anna Komnene, meaning the question of how typical this was of Anglo-­Saxons in general is a circular argument. Regardless of whether this practice was common in western Europe, in these two incidents this was how such troops were used in the empire, to devastating effect in this case. 27  Flateyjarbok II, p. 377; Heimskringla XXI; ‘25 Februar 1361 Kallistos I. überträgt dem Alexios Sophianos die Verwaltung des Monydrion der Thotokos Barangiotissa in Konstantinopel auf Lebenszeit’, Das Register des Patriarchats von Konstantinopel III, ed. J.  Koder, M.  Hinterberger and O. Kresten (Vienna, 2001), pp. 514–21; Blöndal, Varangians of Byzantium, p. 186; Dawkins, ‘Echo in the Norse Sagas’, pp. 246–7. Again, this may originate from the tale in Geisli whereby the sword was hung up by the ‘king of the Greeks’ in a church to St Olaf. Geisli, p. 42 for commentary, pp. 96–100 for the account of the sword. 28 For the lack of native troops under Alexios, see: Angold, Byzantine Empire, pp. 195–6; W.  Treadgold, Byzantium and its Army 284–1081 (Stanford, 1995), p. 219; D.  Nicolle, Crusader Warfare 1 Byzantium, Western Europe and the Battle for the Holy Land (London, 2007), pp. 163, 175. Further comment will follow in Chapter Ten.

Nomad Invasion  109 imperial army.29 In reality, following Berroia, the Pechenegs cease to be an independent force in our sources, integrating and thus disappearing from the his­tor­ ic­al record completely over the course of the next century.30 This integration must have occurred because John gave the nomad invaders what they wanted: lands and service in an army to put their fighting skills to use. Though the demands of imperial rhetoric painted the nomadic horde as purely adversarial to the Christian Romans, the Pechenegs in particular had had a long history of alliance with the empire in the previous century, even being called the ‘Christ-­loving host’.31 Their transformation into the epitome of the barbarian enemy in literature between the crises of the eleventh century and John’s reign demanded an imperial victory to subdue them wholly, and though John had provided such a victory, the res­tor­ ation of many of the nomads as loyal imperial clients was a significant factor in his final success.32 Equally, however, a similar process of assimilation was happening across the steppe.

The Wider Conflict of the Settled against the Nomadic This confrontation was the final battle in a series fought and lost by the Cumans, and other nomads around the Black Sea. John’s reign had seen new threats emerge against the empire, but also brought new opportunities. This produced an en­vir­ on­ment whereby the settled polities of Byzantium, Hungary, Kiev, and Georgia could act in concert against their common nomadic enemy, something for which both their multilateral diplomatic relations and simultaneous campaigns provide evidence. This is despite the fact that our sources, in seeking to glorify their respective rulers, do not state explicitly that there was any such co-­ordination.33 29  JK, p. 8; Pecheneg troops were used to capture the town of Nistrion near Shayzar in 1138, NC, p. 29; Pecheneg troops in service to either the Byzantines or the Asenids harassed the armies of the second and third crusades in 1147 and 1189, Odo of Deuil, pp. 40–1 and Das Itinerarium peregrinorum: eine zeitgenössische englische Chronik zum dritten Kreuzzug in ursprünglicher Gestalt, ed. H.E. Mayer, MGHS 18 (Stuttgart, 1962), p. 21. An exception is that some joined in the Serbian rebellion against Manuel in 1150, but this, if anything, shows them to be firmly part of the new order rather than as an independent people, and indeed may hint at where exactly they were resettled by John in the west, an issue discussed further in the following chapters. JK, p. 107. Additionally, Zonaras mentions that after Alexios defeated the Pechenegs in 1091 they formed a distinct fighting unit, and so these Pechenegs may well have joined this existing unit. See: Zonaras, 18.22 pp. 740–1. 30  Their last mention in Rus sources is in 1169, ‘Ipatіevskaja letopis´’, p. 96; Spinei, Romanians and the Turkic Nomads, p. 127. 31  The literature of the previous century is fully discussed in S.  A.  Kozlov, ‘Byli li pečenežskie sojuzniki vizantijcev«hristoljubivym voinstvom»?’ [Whether the Pecheneg Allies of Byzantines Were the «Christ-­loving Host»?], Electronic Science and educational journal ‘History’ 11.34 (2015), accessed 20 May 2015, URL: https://history.jes.su/s207987840000954-­8-­2. 32  S.A. Kozlov, ‘More than Enemies. The Description of Nomads in the Byzantine Literature of the Epoch of the First Pecheneg Incursions’, Rules and Violence: On the Cultural History of Collective Violence from Late Antiquity to the Confessional Age, ed. C.  Dietl and T.  Knäpper (Berlin, 2014), pp. 83–100. 33  This section is expanded further in the paper: Lau, ‘Multilateral Cooperation’, pp. 19–36.

110  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 After suffering for many years from nomad invasions, Hungary accepted those few Pechenegs and Cumans who did not swear allegiance to John. They are alleged to have become a bodyguard unit for King Stephen II, diminishing his support among his own nobility, though such allegations could simply be a literary trope to disparage the reputation of Stephen.34 Whether this is true or not, place names, material culture, archaeological finds and documentary evidence from the following centuries certainly confirm the nomads’ long-­term settlement in Hungary, and enlistment as semi-­autonomous Hungarian vassals.35 Therefore, even one of John’s more antagonistic contemporaries actually helped end the nomadic threat to the region. Vladimir Monomakh’s original expulsion of the nomads had precipitated the migration of a tribe of the Berenedei into Hungarian lands, though they returned to the Rus in 1139 to settle, and later integrate into the Kievan principality over the course of the next century.36 The same integration is seen across the steppe in Georgia, where a Cuman horde led by Atrak (also known as Otrok), likely also driven away from the steppe by another of Vladimir’s offensives, accepted a treaty to settle and fight for David the Builder.37 David had begun this process back in 1117–18, when he had subdued the Ossetians to the north of Georgia with an expedition through the Daryal Pass. While doing so, he supposedly settled 40,000 Cuman families in Georgia, granting them lands in exchange for serving in his armies.38 Donald Rayfield has recently suggested that though Vladimir and David never met, there is evidence of diplomatic contact between them via embassies. Rus sources mention Vladimir opening the ‘iron gates’ (the Daryal Pass) and chasing the Cumans out, while the seventeenth-­century historian Archdeacon Paul of Aleppo, who supposedly drew on now lost sources, believed that Rus soldiers helped David transfer the Cumans to Georgia.39 David certainly went a step further in order to integrate these Cumans when he divorced his Armenian wife Rusudan and married Atrak’s 34  Simonis de Kéza, Gesta Hungarorum, ed. and tr. L. Veszprémy and F. Schaer (Budapest, 1999), pp. 138–9; ‘Chronicon Pictum’, SRH I, ed. I.  Szentpétery (Budapest, 1938), pp. 419–47; Horváth, Steppe Peoples, pp. 31–2, 121; Tuzson, Istvan II, p. 13; Paroń, Pechenegs, p. 370. There is also the possibility that those who did not side with John were those Pechenegs professing Islam, as many had already settled in Hungary according to K. Štulrajterová, ‘Convivenza, Convenienza and Conversion: Islam in Medieval Hungary (1000–1400 CE)’, Journal of Islamic Studies 24.2 (2013), pp. 4–6. 35 Horváth, Steppe Peoples, pp. 32–8; Paroń, Pechenegs, pp. 377–83. 36 ‘Ipatіevskaja letopis´’, p. 8. Also: ‘Letopis´ po Boskresenskomu spisku’, p. 25; ‘Gustinskaja letopis´’, PSRL II, p. 292; ‘Холмогорская летопись’, p. 42; Spinei, Romanians and the Turkic Nomads, p. 126; Paroń, Pechenegs, pp. 383–7. 37 ‘History of David, King of Kings’, tr. Thomson, pp. 325–7; Golden, ‘The Turkic People and Caucasia’, p. 59; Golden, ‘Cumanica I’, pp. 57–64; Golden, ‘Nomads in a Sedentary World’, pp. 46–51; Spinei, Romanians and the Turkic Nomads, p. 128. 38 R.  V.  Metreveli, Nekotorye voprosy vnešnej politiki Gruzii v srednie veka: XII v (Tblisi, 1995), pp. 3–25; Rayfield, Edge of Empires, pp. 90–1. 39  For the Rus sources, see above. Incorrectly called an eighteenth-­century historian in Rayfield’s Edge of Empires (2012), p. 91, the Paul of Aleppo reference was discovered in one version of the manuscript by Metreveli, Nekotorye voprosy vnešnej politiki Gruzii, pp. 3–25; unfortunately, no reference is made to what his exact sources were, and so this possibility of direct contact cannot be confirmed.

Nomad Invasion  111 daughter Garandukht, together with betrothing his youngest daughter Rusudan to Jadaros, heir to the Ossetian throne, in c.1117–18.40 These marriages were not quite sufficient to produce what Rayfield has labelled a ‘pax Georgiana’, however, as after victory at Didgori in 1122 David still had to campaign against the Cumans. The synchronicity of this campaign with John’s victory at Berroia points to some level of co-­ordination between Byzantium and Georgia. Those same nomadic raiders had also threatened Alania for many years. Ivanov and Lubotsky have commented on how the twelfth century was a heyday for Orthodox Christianity in the region, despite its isolation from much of the rest of the Orthodox world. Due to the Alans’ shared Christian history of suffering at the hands of nomads, it is perhaps no surprise that the ‘festival of the Pechenegs’ as instituted by John was celebrated in the Caucasus until at least 1275.41 The fact of the transmission of this festival across great distances is indicative of two major changes to the old order of the Black Sea world, prompted by the battle of Berroia. The first was the major shifting of international alliances in the latter part of Alexios’ life and the early part of John’s reign. The second was the subsequent movement of John’s Balkan focus from the lower to the middle Danube as he attempted to earn for the empire a dominant role in the new geopolitical order. The marriages arranged by Alexios and John with Hungary, Georgia and Kiev meant that all of the Black Sea polities were linked to each other with Byzantium at the centre; all had carried out successful campaigns against their nomadic en­emies, and then started the process of integrating the Berendei, Pechenegs or Cuman tribes into their own polities.42 Byzantium’s place as the lynchpin of this alliance was a consequence of the restoration of imperial prestige, which was itself due to the victories that had culminated in Berroia and the imperial diplomacy that had resulted in these marriage alliances. The transmission of the news of this victory, whether in Greek, Syriac, Norse, or in the spread of the celebration of the ‘feast of the Pechenegs’ to the Caucasus, demonstrates the importance of this

40  ‘History of David, King of Kings, tr. Thomson, p. 325; Golden, ‘Nomads in a Sedentary World’, pp. 46–51; Rayfield, Edge of Empires, pp. 91–2; The arrival of Queen Rusudan in Jerusalem is preserved in a letter from praecentor Ansellus of Jerusalem to G (Gerbert of Galoni) archbishop of Paris, dated by Bautier and Rayfield to 1 August 1120, Cartulaire générale de Paris, ed. R. de Lasteyrie (Paris, 1887), p. 172; Z. Avalishvili, ‘The Cross from Overseas’, Georgica Vol II-­III (1936), pp. 3–11; G. Bautier, ‘L’envoi de la relique de la Vraie Croix à Notre-­Dame de Paris en 1120’, Bibliothèque de l’école des chartes 219 (1971), pp. 387–97. 41  The basis of their article is an Ossetic colophon in a manuscript dated to 1275 concerning the date of ‘Pecheneg Sunday’. Their point on the Ossetic expression that literally translates as ‘to exterminate the Pechenegs’, meaning ‘to strive, hanker, yearn for something’ is also very well made. Ivanov and Lubotsky, ‘Alanic Marginal Note’, pp. 602–3. 42  See Map Two; only with the breakdown of the unified Rus polity were the Cumans able to raid again by Manuel’s reign, and even then their major offensive was against Poland. Polish invasion: MPH II, ed. A. Bielowski (Lwów, 1872), pp. 832, 875; invasion during Manuel’s reign: NC, pp. 77–9; JK, pp. 93–5.

112  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 change to contemporaries as well as to historians.43 Within the empire itself, the victory is constantly mentioned in the rhetorical court sources as a prelude to John’s later deeds, making it foundational to all his later heroics.44 Though Papageorgiou does not connect it with Berroia specifically, an icon she mentions, described in the Marcianus Graecus 524 manuscript, that depicted John together with his father Alexios and Basil II, is a decisive statement.45 Placing Basil, who had first extended the frontier to the north, alongside John, who had won at Berroia, and his father, who had won at Levounion, in an icon that we can speculate may even have been used liturgically for the new feast of the Pechenegs, puts these three emperors together as the saviours of the settled, Roman world against the ‘barbarian’ menace.46 Though John’s real coup was in fact his mastering of the opportunities afforded by the rise of Hungary, Kiev, and Georgia, military achievements mattered. He used them to the fullest extent to bolster his reputation both domestically and abroad. The next step was less glamorous, but no less important for all that, as it was perhaps John’s most important act for the security of the empire in the west: the organization of the Paristrion region which ­followed Berroia.

The Nature of the Paristrion after Berroia Going all but unmentioned in our surviving sources were the practicalities of the frontier policy that demonstrates the change in the old order, a change that saw imperial resources move from the lower to the middle Danube. Stephenson and Madgearu have argued that the Komnenoi shifted their defensive frontier to the Haemos Mountains around the turn of the twelfth century, leaving the Paristrion as a ‘half open’, peripheral province, though one firmly in the imperial sphere of control according to Madgearu.47 These scholars point to depopulation revealed in the archaeological record by abandoned forts, and reports in twelfth-­century authorities such as William of Tyre, who refers to the ancient provinces of Dacia

43  Papageorgiou notes the battle was a ‘memorable event of his reign’ and so the feast was instituted to celebrate John’s own status as a soldier-­emperor and defender of the empire, similarly to his later triumphs: Papageorgiou, ‘Political Ideology’, pp. 48–9, esp. n. 43. Though this was indeed the case, I would argue her argument should be taken further: the fact it was celebrated long after John died, and in remote geographical regions, suggests that the feast at least became far more than merely Komnenian propaganda, even if it had originally started as that; the celebration symbolized a genuine watershed moment in the history of the region. 44  A selection includes: Prodromos, II, IV, VIII, X, XIV, XVI, XXV, XXIX, LXXI, Basilakes, ‘Λόγος εἰς τὸν ἀοίδιμον βασιλέα κῦρ Ἰωάννην’, ‘λογος εἰς τὸν σεβαστὸν καὶ μέγαν Δομέστικον’, and ‘λογος εἰς τὸν σεβαστὸν καὶ μέγαν Δομέστικον’, Orationes et Epistolae, passim. 45  Lambros, ‘Ὅ Μαρκιανὸς Κῶδιξ 524’, cited by Papageorgiou, ‘Political Ideology’, p. 49, n. 45. 46  And it also lends further support to Paroń’s suggestion of the feast emphasizing the many victories of the Komnenoi against the nomads. 47 Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, pp. 103–5; Madgearu, Military Organization on the Danube, p. 168.

Nomad Invasion  113 being left barren for military purposes. Their argument suggests that when targets (places to raid) were removed, the raiding stopped.48 When the developments of the previous century are taken into account, however, the evidence reveals a policy more complex than simply the creation of a no-­man’s land.49 The economic evidence demonstrates that the region had been far from wealthy or productive for at least the previous century, and the population of that region was at best predominantly made up of those called mixobarbaroi. Indeed, the region was for some time known as Patzinakia, and, thus, outside the imperial centres of Dristra, Isaccea, and Axiopolis there were very few people our sources would class as full Romans, but they were rather ‘Christian non-­Roman’ peoples who lived within imperial frontiers, and who were treaty-­bound, and thus subject to, the empire.50 Nevertheless, despite their conversion and these numerous treaties, they were always a threat on account of being a significant, distinct ethnic group in one geographical area. Further, they were a people that did not contribute much towards the empire’s security or finances, in fact they could be a danger to both, requiring a great deal of imperial investment in terms of men and money. Though the archaeological and textual evidence, mentioned above, supports Stephenson and Madgearu’s arguments that the number of settlements in the Paristrion declined during the rule of the Komnenoi, this evidence does not account for the nomadic tribes living there who would leave far less of an arch­ aeo­logic­al footprint.51 Despite a century of inhabiting the region, there were virtually no permanent settlements of a distinctive Pecheneg or Cuman culture, yet the aforementioned continuing growth of Dristra and the few other remaining imperial settlements in this period demonstrate that these continued to be the markets used by nomadic tribes when they needed Byzantine goods.52 The fact 48  The devastation in the archaeological record of Păcuilul lui Soare and Nufărul are noted by Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 105, based on coin finds—­with Madgearu specifically noting that though these together with Isaccea and Axiopolis were attacked in 1095, they were not abandoned until 1122 according to the latest archaeology. Madgearu, Military Organization on the Danube, pp. 142–5. The archaeological works in question are all referenced above. William of Tyre, 2.4, p. 126. Also proposed by Magdalino as a ‘no-­man’s land’, Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 134; Madgearu posits that this description is more likely to apply to the situation during William’s lifetime in the late twelfth century, rather than the situation during the passage of the First Crusade that is being described in this section, as it is not mentioned in other late eleventh-­century sources, Madgearu, Military Organization on the Danube, pp. 169–70. 49 Madgearu, Military Organization on the Danube, p. 169. 50 On mixobarbaroi, see AK, pp. 205–7, and for discussion see Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, pp. 107–10. 51 Curta, Southeastern Europe, p. 319. 52  Horváth makes the point that despite c.200 years of habitation on the steppe there are very few finds, with cemeteries being the only permanent sites the Pechenegs and Cumans built there, whereas in Hungary where there is more archaeological evidence we see a process of villages shifting to new sites after a short time, hinting at a semi-­sedentary mode of life even when the Pechenegs had all but assimilated into Hungarian society in the thirteenth century, Horváth, Steppe Peoples, pp. 19–25 and 35–6, respectively. Stephenson mentions a ‘boom in trade in the lower Danube’ in this period, while increased mercantile activity is noted by Gerolymatou and Preser-­Kapeller: Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, 81–98; M.  Gerolymatou, Αγορές, έμποροι και εμπόριο στο Βυζάντιο 9ος–12ος αι. (Athens,

114  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 that John pursued the invaders to their wagons and not to any permanent villages reinforces this interpretation, as does Kinnamos’ assertion that the Turks John fought in winter 1124 ‘were still untrained in agricultural labours, but gulped and devoured milk, like the Pechenegs, and were always encamped in scatterings on the plain’ [emphasis added].53 Indeed, the lack of military installations, such as these forts, may suggest that the region had become pacified, was no longer threatened by constant attacks and thus no longer required an imperial garrison outside of that at Dristra. Such a paradigm shift in our understanding that seemingly ‘empty lands’ could in fact be home to sophisticated polities has been in evidence in recent scholarship on North American native societies, in particular Hämäläinen’s The Comanche Empire, that has rewritten our understanding of the relationship between nomads and settled peoples in general as well as specific cases.54 Thus, rather than being a ‘no-­man’s land’, it may be more useful to think about the Paristrion as an area more like a native American Reservation for the nomadic tribes. The similarities between these twelfth-­century nomads and the nineteenth-­ century native Americans who were defeated militarily, bound by treaties, Christianized, and then relocated to an area that the central government did not want for its own people due to poor farmland and lack of resources, are striking.55 The early North American reservations had involved placing a cohesive ethnic group in one location, leading to successive rebellions, with the result that the United States government eventually divided the tribes, resettling them in smaller, more geographically scattered reservations across the country. So too did John with the Pechenegs and Cumans: Choniates clearly states that John sent many to settle along the western borders of the empire, in villages still surviving at his time of writing (indeed, during field work in Serbia in 2014, I passed through a village with the name of Pečenog near Kraljevo) while others (such as the ones who came over to John during the winter of 1121/2) no doubt remained in the Paristrion.56 Thus, the division of the Pechenegs from one geographically 2008), pp. 171–7; Preiser-­Kapeller, ‘Collapse of the Eastern Mediterranean?’, p. 203. Stephenson also suggests that they may have had a role in pacifying the lands beyond the Danube as well; by tying the nomads there into a peaceful trading relationship they would minimise risks from raiding. He cites the salt trade from modern Transylvania as his example, see Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 45. 53  JK, p. 9, p. 17; see below. 54 P. Hämäläinen, The Comanche Empire (London, 2008), esp. pp. 345–57. 55  Ibid. See also: K.  Frantz, Indian Reservations in the United States: Territory, Sovereignty, and Socioeconomic Change (Chicago, 1999), pp. 10–69; Frantz also calls to mind similarities to the breakup of tribal lands by European colonial authorities in Africa, p. 51. Khazanov’s classifications for nomadic adaption includes sedentarization, trade, and submission typologies that match what John carried out here. Khazanov, Nomads and the Outside World, pp. 164–227. 56  NC, p. 16. Pečenog is located near Kraljevo, Serbia, at 43° 46´ 0″ N, 20° 46´ 0″ E; In this way John avoided a problem that afflicted the empire from the first large scale settling of foederati barbarian allies, whereby eventually the cohesive barbarian tribe always attempted to take over the land in their own right, whether Franks, Visigoths or many others. See P. Heather, ‘The Late Roman Art of Client Management: Imperial Defence in the Fourth Century West’, The Transformation of Frontiers From

Nomad Invasion  115 cohesive ‘Patzinakia’ into several villages scattered across the Balkans, coupled with John’s international alliance system and the advanced warning bases in the Crimea, the ‘nomad problem’ was at last solved.57 However, in contrast to the resettlement of native Americans who had their original lands seized from them, these nomads had invaded the empire in the first place seeking new lands, which John had given them along with service in his army; with the nomads’ own support this solution became a very real success. What the nomads wanted was land and the goods that the empire produced, coupled with an outlet for their war­ riors, and John gave them all of this under imperial suzerainty.58 There is even a hint in Prodromos that the tribes paid tribute to the imperial fisc, making their status clearly that of an imperial client people if this rhetoric had basis in fact.59 This system, begun by Alexios after settling some Pechenegs near Moglena in 1091 and completed by John, was to continue for as long as imperial control over the whole of the Balkans endured.60 Manuel even combined the two strategies by giving four kastra of the province to Rus princes in the 1160s in exchange for their loyalty, while the nomads remained there, as a description from the late twelfth century by Eustathios of Thessalonike of the pacified ‘Skythians’, in add­ ition to accounts of the Third Crusade being attacked by Pechenegs in the same region, attest.61 This ‘nomad reservation’ was therefore a buffer zone between the steppe and traditionally organized imperial provinces, but it was also a region where the descriptions of ‘no man’s land’, or ‘gradual evanescence of Byzantine power’ would be misleading. The income from trade at the booming imperial centres such as Dristra was not insignificant, and for the price of only Late Antiquity to the Carolingians, ed. W. Pohl, I. Wood and H. Reimitz (Leiden, 2001), pp. 15–68 for an overview of the problem. John’s solution may be seen on multiple occasions in following chapters as he deals with Serbian, Turkish and Armenian Cilician clients through resettlement. 57  See Chapter Two for Cherson, which in agreement with Stephenson I see as an important part of future Byzantine nomad policy: given its role in information gathering, as well as its status as a base for trade and diplomacy with the northern polities, Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, pp. 104–5; see also the similar relocation of the Serbians and Armenians. 58  Successful relations between sedentary and nomadic peoples are often brokered on these lines, cf. Khazanov, Nomads and the Outside World, pp. 198–224; Barfield, The Perilous Frontier, pp. 90–1; Hämäläinen, The Comanche Empire, pp. 107–238. 59 ‘ὅς φόρους ἐπιτέθεικε ταῖς Παριστρίαις χώραις’, Prodromos, IV, line 226. 60  Zonaras, 18.22 pp. 740–1; Y.  Stouraitis, ‘Migrating in the Medieval East Roman World, ca. 600–1204’, Migration Histories of the Medieval Afroeurasian Transition Zone: Aspects of Mobility between Africa, Asia and Europe, 300–1500 C.E., ed. J. Preiser-­Kapeller, L. Reinfandt, and Y. Stouraitis (Leiden, 2020), p. 158; Paroń, Pechenegs, p. 366. 61  Stephenson translates Eustathius’ characterization of the Paristrion as a peaceful region containing these nomads as a place: ‘where the Scythian bow does not function, and his ropes are kept unused, he brandishes them only to keep his hand in’, Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 107, from ‘Allocutio ad imp. Manuelem Comnenum, cum esset Myrorum metropolita electus’, PG 135 (Paris, 1864), p. 938; For the grant to Rus, see JK, p. 236, and for the Rus’ sources, see Kazhdan and Epstein, Change in Byzantine Culture, p. 258. On the nomadic ambush of various participants of the Third Crusade in 1189, see: Itinerarium Peregrinorum et Gesta Regis Ricardi, ed. W. Stubbs (London, 1864), p. 45. On these Pechenegs, and others previous recruited and settled under Alexios, see: A. Madgearu, ‘The Pechenegs in the Byzantine Army’, The Steppe Lands and the World beyond Them: Studies in Honor of Victor Spinei on his 70th birthday (Iaşi, 2013), pp. 207–18.

116  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 maintaining a few military bases, security in the area was never higher, with loyal nomadic subject peoples surrounding these centres and serving in the imperial army, in complete contrast to the fortification-­ heavy Anatolian frontier.62 Supporting this, it is significant that one of the known chartoularata [imperial pastures for horses and other animals needed for the army] may have been located at Glavinitsa, some 20 km south of the Danube near Silistria, such that this region was undoubtably contributing to the empire in multiple ways.63 Control over the lower Danube was equally essential for more effective op­er­ ations on the middle Danube, and it freed up men and money to use in other areas, and so goes some way to explaining why John was able to achieve better results in other locations. The Paristrion and the former nomadic threat had been neutralized on account of a glorious victory and the international diplomacy that capitalized on it. However, with this being only the first theatre of war to be settled, players and events had moved fast in the other theatres, exposing potential weaknesses in this grand strategy of the cumulative acquisition of secured territory and clients. During the nomad invasion, the player in question was Venice, which through fortunate coincidence had the means to push its case for the renewal of trade privileges. Though seemingly tangential to the affairs of the Paristrion frontier, the contemporaneous nature of these events must be ac­know­ ledged as a key factor in why the conflict with Venice played out the way it did. John would prioritize other theatres, allowing his Venetian problem to grow unchecked, as will be seen over the next two chapters. At this early stage, however, it can be understood why John’s regime acted in the way it did in response to the Venetian threat.

The Venetian Fleet and Corfu: the Grey Lining of the Silver Cloud Five years had passed since Alexios’ death in 1118, and those five years had been an unparalleled success. John had followed up on unfinished business in Anatolia and the Balkans as he pushed for the re-­absorption of the Rum sultanate of Ikonion, and had decisively defeated the invading nomads, strengthening the imperial army and security along the Danube border in the process. His opening act of diplomatic firmness with the Venetians was however to have unexpected consequences in 1122. The Venetian fleet under Doge Dominico Michiel had set off eastwards in response to the defeat of King Baldwin II of Jerusalem by Ilghazi 62  See Chapter Eight; Curta, Southeastern Europe, p. 328. 63  Mentioned in the Partitio terrarium imperii Romaniae, the treaty that divided up the empire among the victors of the fourth crusade: I say ‘may’ as the context of this mention is along with the province of Dyrrachium, as so there is the possibility this could also be another, unknown, Glavinitza in that region. See: Tafel and Thomas, ‘Urkunden’, p. 472.

Nomad Invasion  117 of Aleppo at the Ager Sanguinis (Field of Blood), leading both King Baldwin and Pope Calixtus II to appeal for aid.64 This expedition would spoil John’s otherwise spotless record, not through a specific act that he provoked, but merely because he did not renew the privileges that Alexios had given the Venetians. Up to this point, Venetian merchants had continued to trade in Constantinople under less favourable terms, and in the doge’s appeal to his people there is no mention of Byzantium, only the possibility of re-­ establishing control over Dalmatian towns en route to the Latins in the east.65 The slow pace of the Venetian fleet as it went down the Adriatic coast, mentioned by Fulcher of Chartres as being particularly cautious and indeed calculated by John Pryor as being 0.8 knots, meant that it only arrived near Corfu in September/October 1122, and so when the winter seas proved treacherous to the Venetian galleys the doge was forced to overwinter there.66 Fulcher of Chartres does not mention that there were any hostilities, merely telling us that the fleet wintered in Corfu, before setting out in March 1123 to continue its journey to the Holy Land via Methone and Rhodes, which were again logical places at which to take on supplies.67 The ‘Historia Ducum Veneticorum’ does uniquely tell us that the Venetians laid siege to Corfu (city), but aside from this reference the nature of what may have occurred in winter 1122 on Corfu is unclear.68 Trouble was always to be expected if a large foreign force stayed in a local port over winter, particularly given the background of political tension that existed at the time between Byzantium and Venice over the revocation of trade privileges and concerns over each side’s ambitions with regard to Hungary and Dalmatia. Our other primary sources refer to raids, but only after they mention the Venetians seizing Tyre, and given the lack of any specific provocation on the fleet’s outward journey, I would argue that if hostilities did break out at Corfu, they were on a very limited scale. Trouble on the outbound route would be emphasized by Venetian sources later in order to make subsequent events seem part of a grand design, although the possibility that raids were carried out both on Corfu and other islands should not be entirely discounted.69 It has been argued that Venice may have carried out these raids 64  William of Tyre, 12.9–12, pp. 556–62; Fulcher of Chartres, 3.3, pp. 621–3; Tafel and Thomas, ‘Urkunden’, no. xxxviii, p. 78; Dandolo, p. 232; ‘Historia Ducum Veneticorum’, MGH SS 14 (Hannover, 1883), p. 73; ‘Translatio Isidori’, RHC: Historiens occidentaux 5 (Paris, 1895), pp. 322–3; D. Queller and I. Katele, ‘Venice and the Conquest of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem’, Studi Veneziani 12 (1986), p. 29; Devaney ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, p. 135. 65  Ibid. Evidence of Venetians trading in Constantinople between 1118 and 1122 are found in: Documenti del commercio veneziano, ed. della Rocca and Lombardo, nos. 41, 42, 45, and 46. 66  Fulcher of Chartres 3.15, p. 658; J. Pryor, ‘ “Water, water everywhere, Nor any drop to drink”: Water Supplies for the Fleets of the First Crusade’, Dei Gesta per Francos: Études sur les Croisades dédiées à Jean Richard, ed. M.  Balard, B.  Kedar and J.  Riley-­Smith (Aldershot, 2001), pp. 21–4; Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, pp. 136–7. 67  Fulcher of Chartres 3.15, p. 657. 68  ‘Historia Ducum Veneticorum’, p. 73. 69  These sources will be discussed in full next chapter; regarding the historiography, Lilie argues for a serious attack on Corfu timed specifically while John was occupied elsewhere, and then the fleet sailing directly for the Levant, with the latter point also being argued by Nicol, and Thomas Madden,

118  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 because there was no fear of reprisal, on account of the policy of John’s new finance minister, John Poutzenos to have naval taxes collected and spent centrally rather than on local defence.70 However, it has been pointed out by Judith Herrin that this policy was only instituted after 1126, in her view in response to the renewed promise that Venice would grant Byzantium naval support when it needed it.71 I  would go further and argue that localized defence fleets, though capable against pirates and smaller raids, would be entirely unable to defeat the huge Crusader fleet gathered by Venice in support of the kingdom of Jerusalem, and thus a large centralized fleet would be the obvious response to defending against such incursions in future, which later evidence would suggest was the model that John adopted.72 It is plain that the hostilities on Corfu did not cause serious damage as John did not react when he received news, completely unlike events in 1124. Traditionally, it has been thought that he was unable to do so, or he was unwilling to spend resources that would be better spent in other regions. It is more likely that the raid was of little consequence. In general, the modern historiography of this Venetian ‘war’ has previously been overly prone to hindsight, combining events that occurred years apart to create an artificial sense of a continuum that would not have been seen by John and his government. The non-­renewal of Venetian privileges on account of their recent abuses in 1118, and this winter spent on Corfu in 1122, certainly increased tensions, but they were hardly a declaration of war. Alexios (and later Manuel) and the crusaders skirmished frequently on land and sea, without escalation to full-­scale war. Similar events early in John’s reign were simply opportunism on the part of the crusaders to test imperial defences to see if they could gain some advantage for themselves.73 It was surely not an ideal situation for the emperor to be in, but in 1122–3 John could be fairly certain that regional fleets would deter the Venetians from doing further harm. Indeed, the Venetians would not have wanted to waste resources against the empire when their key purpose, supporting the kingdom of Jerusalem, was still to be undertaken. It is only when looking through the lens of 1124, if not 1204, that a

while Chalandon and Devaney remark that it is truly not clear whether there were any hostilities aside from in Corfu itself. Lilie, Handel und Politik, pp. 370–1; D. Nicol, Byzantium and Venice: A Study in Diplomatic and Cultural Relations (Cambridge, 1988), p. 79; T. Madden, Enrico Dandolo and the Rise of Venice (Baltimore, 2003), p. 16; Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 157; Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, p. 138. 70  NC, p. 54; H. Ahrweiler, Byzance et la mer: la marine de guerre, la politique et les institutions maritimes de Byzance aux VIIe–­XVe siècles (Paris, 1966), pp. 175–294; Lilie, Handel und Politik, pp. 613–43; Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, p. 137. 71  ‘Synopsis Chronikē’, MB 7, pp. 220–2; J.  Herrin, ‘Realities of Provincial Government: Hellas and the Peloponnesos, 1180–1205’, Margins and Metropolis: Authority Across the Byzantine Empire (Princeton, 2013), p. 86, n. 144. 72  See Chapter Five and Lau, ‘Naval Reform’, pp. 115–38. 73  Cf. First and Second Crusade skirmishing, see AK, 11.10, pp. 360–2; Maragone, Annales Pisani, p. 7; Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, p. 137.

Nomad Invasion  119 teleological pattern of escalating Byzantine-­Venetian tensions emerges, and thus I see the events to come on Rhodes in 1124 as the key turning point. In spring 1123, John felt free enough to turn to another piece of unfinished business that he had left simmering since his father’s death: a settlement for the Serb principalities of Diokleia and Raška. It is possible he may even have once more overwintered in the Balkans as no source mentions a return to Constantinople, and this would be the next obvious problem to tackle while he was in the region before returning to Anatolia. This business, however, was not to be solved by only one campaign as had been the case with the nomad problem; it would take up most of the next decade. John had completed the work of his father and their predecessors in bringing a new settlement with the nomads to the Danube frontier, and he had done so in conjunction with his fellow rulers around the Black Sea. He had in many ways cemented his reputation, being called ‘Skythian-­bane’ and perhaps ‘Cumanos’ for his victories, and so he could be forgiven for thinking that his next tasks could also be solved promptly and effectively. In the decade to come, however, John’s strat­egies would initially prove far from optimal in dealing with the new challenges of the twelfth century, and his overconfidence would lead to overextension.

Five Client Management and the Crisis of 1126 The chronology following the battle of Berroia in 1122 is vexed by obfuscatory sources, which range from vague to outright contradictory when they are examined together.1 Kinnamos has John go off to fight nomad Turks in Anatolia after Berroia, while Choniates has him immediately prosecute a war against the Serbs, almost certainly identified with the rebellious Raškan principality, while the text of the Priest of Diokleia gives few exact dates at all, and the Hungarian Chronicle does not mention the Serbs in this context.2 Compounded by the lack of court sources, this period appears the most convoluted decade of John’s reign, but a clearer picture does still emerge of the strategy John was following for the post-­ Berroia empire: namely, to impose Byzantine hegemony over the competing Serb courts, the Turks of Anatolia, and beyond. This strategy is often termed clientelism, whereby a patron seeks to rule in­dir­ect­ly over other rulers, and it is often a crucial step for any would-­be great power striving for ascendancy. John sought to acquire clients cumulatively in order to restore the pre-­eminent position the empire had occupied before the crises of the eleventh century. In the course of following this strategy, John over-­extended himself in 1126, and so had to make less than ideal compromises in order to ensure at least some of his initiatives succeeded. Whether from hubris after his victory at Berroia, or from the realization by outside powers of the threat of a resurgent Byzantium, John was forced to choose which clients he would secure, and which he would let slip for now. He chose to secure Raška and the Balkans at the expense of Venice and Ikonion in 1126, and through understanding this choice we can also comprehend why our texts provide such vague and differing accounts.

1 Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 65; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 35. As a caveat, outside of Anglo- and Francophone scholarship most Serbian historiography has more recently agreed on specific dates, see: Stanković, Komnini u Carigradu. This is because Serb scholars have used sources outside of the conventional Latin and Greek histories. They have come to many of the same conclusions as presented here. These are expanded upon in: M. Lau, ‘Rewriting the 1120s’, pp. 87–108. 2  NC, p. 16; JK, p. 9.

Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143. Maximilian C. G. Lau, Oxford University Press. © Maximilian C. G. Lau 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198888673.003.0006

Client Management and the Crisis of 1126  121

Managing the Client Principality of Raška—­the Campaign of 1123 The problems raised by the contradictory accounts are solved if there were in fact two Serb campaigns: the first in 1123 in the aftermath of Berroia, and a later one contemporaneous with John’s war with Stephen of Hungary.3 John had left the situation in the Serb lands unresolved when Alexios’ health started failing, and now he was in the Balkans with a battle—­hardened and victorious army, and so this was an obvious moment for him to finish what he had started in 1118. Choniates tells us that John declared war because the Serbs ‘were guilty of many crimes and violations of treaties’, and added that they ‘had always bowed to the yoke of neighbouring princes’, thus, their past record was most definitely being deployed as a key reason for war.4 There is little other evidence to suggest what exactly this rebellion entailed in the primary sources: a refusal to acknowledge imperial suzerainty may be assumed, perhaps coupled with a refusal to provide troops for the imperial army if they were called upon for Berroia, or perhaps to pay tariffs on goods, or some other form of taxation. Similar to the nomads or the Venetians, this Raškan ‘rebellion’ may have been a form of negotiation for greater subsidies and benefits from the empire, a holding out for a better deal from Constantinople.5 Equally, however, it may have been more a matter of domestic politics, as the Raškan court competed with that of Diokleia for influence over the Serbs, similarly to Hetumid and Rupenid rivalry in Cilicia.6 With the nomad invasion, the Raškan court may well have sensed imperial weakness and sought to exploit the situation, but with John victorious it was time to rein the Raškans in, and bolster his Diokleian client. This ties in with Stephenson’s argument as to why Kinnamos gives a later campaign date. Kinnamos only mentions a Serb revolt in the context of the hu­mili­ation by the emperor of a certain garrison commander of Ras named Kritoplos—­that being mounting him on an ass in women’s clothing and having him ride through the market—­in a similar manner to the punishment by the lash of Kourtikios, the commander at Braničevo when the Hungarians took it 3  Cf. Chapter Six; Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, pp. 22–7; Fine, Early Medieval Balkans, pp. 234–6; G. Moravcsik, Byzantium and the Magyars (Budapest, 1970), p. 78; Kosztolnyik, Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, pp. 104–8, Tuzson, Istvan II, p. 139, Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 206; Madgearu, Military Organization on the Danube, pp. 149–50; Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos, p. 22; Papageorgiou, ‘Βυζάντιο και οι Σέρβοι: το ζήτημα των εκστρατειών του Ιωάννη Β´ Κομνηνού εναντίον των Σέρβων’, Εώα και Εσπερία 8 (2008–12), pp. 353–67; Stanković, Komnini u Carigradu, pp. 437–50. Curta avoids the date issue entirely: Curta, Southeastern Europe, pp. 328–9. 4  NC, p. 16. 5  Cf. Barfield, The Perilous Frontier, pp. 90–1. 6  A mixed interpretation is common in the modern Serbian historiography, whereby from the eleventh century onwards the relationship between the imperial government and the Serbs is interpreted to be ‘an equal factor of the empire’s internal and foreign policies’. S. Pirivatrić, ‘The Dynamics of Byzantine Serbian Political Relations’, Processes of Byzantinisation and Serbian Archeology, ed. V. Bikić (Belgrade, 2016), p. 21. Stanković, Komnini u Carigradu, pp. 437–50.

122  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 in 1127.7 Stephenson argues that it is included at this point in the narrative to ‘invite the reader to note and condemn John’s poor treatment of generals’, and implies that by wasting time with such things John precipitated a Hungarian attack. Stephenson posits Kinnamos portrays this episode as a humiliation for John.8 Thus, Kinnamos’ chronology is changed to suit the needs of his rhetorical goal: portraying John as ‘a vengeful and spiteful coward’ as opposed to the ‘supreme military emperor’, and hero of Kinnamos’ story, Manuel.9 As such, this incident constitutes one of the best examples of the dangers of Kinnamos’ narrative in general, while Choniates’ account carries the usual opposite problem of focusing on all the victories and positives while minimizing any imperial setbacks. Though undated, the Chronicle of the Priest of Diokleia provides a full account, and so between Choniates and the Chronicle, the events following Berroia can be clarified, with Kinnamos’ account of the Serbs referring to the latter part of the decade.10 In contrast to the Priest’s detailed record, Choniates’ short account merely states that John inflicted a crushing defeat on the ‘Tribaloi (also called Serbs)’, carrying off ‘plunder beyond measure’, and then just as he resettled the Pechenegs in the west, he transferred the captive ‘Tribaloi’ to fertile lands near Nikomedeia in Anatolia to the east.11 It is entirely possible that this was in fact a ‘population swap’, as the Pechenegs were settled in the rebellious Raškan lands, and the displaced Raškans were brought with John on his next campaign against the nomadic Turks of Anatolia in 1124, and settled at Nikomedeia en route.12 This policy closely follows Peter Heather’s model of fourth-­century Roman client management in the west, whereby the empire maintained power on the frontier through a mixture of punitive expeditions to demonstrate Roman superiority, population resettlement, and licensing client rulers who were a subservient part of the late

7  JK, p. 12. 8 Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 208; see below. 9 Ibid. 10  Cf. Papageorgiou, ‘John II’s Campaign’s against the Serbs’, esp. p. 355. 11  NC, p. 16; tr. p. 11. 12  There were certainly Pechenegs in Serb lands as they took part in a Serb rebellion in 1150, see Chapter Four below. Resettling the Serbs in Nikomedeia would be part of a coherent strategy of solidifying the frontier in 1124, and indeed had been done many times in the empire’s history from the seventh through to the tenth centuries, as emperors Maurice, Constans II, Justinian II, and Constantine V all settled Slavs from that region of the Balkans into Anatolia to reinforce the frontier, and in the tenth century the Slavs of the Opsikion theme served as marines in the imperial navy as a distinct group. A community of a people known as Serbs in Anatolia endured until at least the thirteenth century, as a city called Σερβοχώρια (‘Serbian inhabitations’) is mentioned in the thirteenth-­ century Partitio terrarium imperii Romaniae. Choniates tells us John settled them ‘near Nikomedeia’, in Bithynia, perhaps bolstering or resurrecting the earlier community that would endure for the next century. NC, p. 16; tr. p. 11; P.  Charanis, ‘The Transfer of Population as a Policy in the Byzantine Empire’, Comparative Studies in Society and History 3.2 (Cambridge, 1961), pp. 142–9; Charanis, ‘The Slavic Element in Byzantine Asia Minor in the Thirteenth Century’, Byzantion 18 (1946–8), pp. 69–83; Tafel and Thomas, ‘Urkunden’, p. 475; Ahrweiler, Byzance et la mer, p. 402; Ramsay, Geography of Asia Minor, pp. 183, 210; P.  Wirth, ‘Die Bevölkerungspolitik der Komnenen und Laskaridenkaiser’, Byzantinische Forschungen 7 (1979), pp. 208–9; Papageorgiou, ‘John II’s Campaigns against the Serbs’, p. 365; Stouraitis, ‘Migrating’, pp. 152–3.

Client Management and the Crisis of 1126  123 imperial system of the Roman Empire as it, like John’s empire many centuries later, attempted to deal with a changed world.13 This is a model that will be relevant throughout this chapter, but to return to the end of 1123, John had defeated the nomadic horde, conducted a successful punitive expedition against the rebellious client ruler of Raška, resettled the Pechenegs on the latter’s doorstep while recruiting Raškans for the army, and then uprooted other Raškans to be resettled in Anatolia. This was all to support the defence of the frontier there against the Turks while also resolving any challenges from the Balkans. It therefore seems natural when Choniates tells us that John literally crowned his five years of success with the coronation of his son Alexios as emperor, along with the raising of his other three sons to the rank of sebastokrator, a status equal to that of John’s own brothers.14 Whether this is another case of Choniates changing the chronology to emphasize John’s triumphs, or whether the other sons were indeed made sebastokratores in 1123 and Choniates did not know that Alexios had already been crowned and thus amal­ gam­ated the two events, is unclear. But whatever the truth of this, John had followed up his victory at Berroia with yet another successful campaign.

Anatolian Campaigns of 1124 The new year saw John following the same strategy in Anatolia as he carried out a similar punitive campaign against nomad Turks, which would result in further recruits for his army. This campaign is dated by Kinnamos to ‘the winter’, and though this could mean that John went directly from the Balkans to Anatolia, and that it occurred in the winter of 1123, it is more likely that he spent most of a year in the capital, during which he installed his sons as sebastokratores, and then he settled the Serbs near Nikomedeia before campaigning.15 With the west seemingly secure from both nomad and Serb insurrection, and with troops from both groups supplementing John’s own forces, the emperor could now refocus on Anatolia. Rather than marching against the Seljuks of Ikonion or the Danishmendids, this campaign targeted the still nomadic Turkic tribes. Kinnamos describes them as untrained in agriculture, people who ‘gulped milk and devoured meat, like the

13  Heather, ‘Client Management’, pp. 15–68, 59 and 68 in particular; see also a similar resettlement of Armenians into Cyprus in Chapter Eight below. 14  NC, pp. 16–17. 15  Ibid., p. 16; JK, p. 9; Chalandon dates it to winter 1124 due to it being after the Serbian campaign, but before John wrote a letter to pope Callixtus II in June 1124, at which point he was in the capital. However, the dating of this letter is by no means secure, and most modern scholarship tends to date the letters of John to the popes in the context of his expeditions to the east as discussed in my introduction, so Chalandon’s dating is no more securely grounded than any other. Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 51.

124  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Pechenegs, and were always encamped in scatterings on the plain’.16 Though we have no way of quantifying this latter group, as they rarely appear in the sources, the amount of time John seems to have spent on campaign doing nothing specific would imply continuous operations important enough to bring him out to Anatolia. The pacification of these tribes, who may well have owed loose allegiance to Ikonion or the Danishmendids, would be an essential part of the transformation of western Anatolia back into prosperous imperial provinces by the end of the century, as we shall see in Chapter Ten. Kinnamos also mentions John converting them to the true faith and thus ‘causing an increase in the Romans’ forces’.17 This would seem to have been general policy: John enrolled defeated enemies in his army whenever possible, allowing him to pursue ever more ambitious goals, and thus we see Pechenegs, Serbs and Turks mentioned as separate divisions in John’s army thereafter, and there will be more examples in the years to come.18 However, such a strategy relied upon John having freedom of action to build up his forces and territories in this way, but that freedom ran out towards the end of 1124 as other political actors made their moves.

The Return of the Venetian Fleet At the same time as this winter campaign the Venetian fleet under Doge Dominico Michele returned, victorious, from the siege of Tyre, and in October 1124 it landed on Rhodes to take on provisions.19 Only Venetian sources and Fulcher of Chartres describe the following events, yet even these authorities are unspecific in assigning causes for what happened. Many scholars believe that the doge left the Levant straight after the siege of Tyre with the specific intention of putting pressure on John to restore Venetian trade privileges, particularly because in 1124 he  could not reach Venice before winter, having stayed in the Levant past late summer.20 Whether this was the case or not, both Dandolo and the Historia Ducum Veneticorum tell us that the Venetians landed on Rhodes unopposed and sought provisions, but were refused by the inhabitants.21 The antagonism may have been mutual, though no source states any explicitly hostile acts John committed: he 16  JK, p. 9; tr. p. 17. 17  JK, p. 9; tr. p. 17. On these initiatives in Byzantine in general, see: R.  Shukurov, ‘Barbarians, Philanthropy, and Byzantine Missionism’, Philanthropy in Anatolia through the Ages, ed. O.  Tekin, C. Roosevelt and E. Akyürek (Istanbul, 2020), pp. 141–52. 18  NC, pp. 16, 29–30; tr. pp. 11, 17. These Turks specifically appear in Hungary, Gangra, and Cilicia: NC, pp. 16, 29–30; tr. pp. 11, 17; JK, p. 10. 19  Fulcher of Chartres, 3.14–41, pp. 655–761; Dandolo, pp. 233–5; ‘Historia Ducum Veneticorum’, p. 74. 20 Nicol, Byzantium and Venice, p. 79; Madden, Enrico Dandolo, pp. 16–17; Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­ Venetian Conflict’, p. 139; Queller and Katele state that they merely left because the job was done and the other allies had also dispersed, rather than deliberately antagonizing the empire. Queller and Katele, ‘Venice and Conquest of Jerusalem’, p. 37. 21  Dandolo, p. 234; ‘Historia Ducum Veneticorum’, p. 74.

Client Management and the Crisis of 1126  125 had merely decided not to renew the privileges his father had granted the Venetians.22 It is true that provisioning a fleet of seventy vessels with an estimated fifteen thousand sailors would always be a major undertaking, and arrangements for this would have been made in advance if relations were peaceful, as water might be easy to come by, but food and naval supplies were not.23 Therefore, the doge must have engineered this situation to justify using a fleet gathered to support Christians in the Levant to attack the empire on the return journey to Venice. I would add to this the consideration that the inhabitants of Rhodes would have been much more likely to refuse provisions to such a huge Venetian fleet with winter upon them and their own mouths to feed, or indeed to accommodate them all winter themselves if they had received news of earlier raiding activity around Corfu. Therefore, there is every likelihood that this entire incident could have occurred because of this local refusal, without any direct orders from John to treat the Venetians as enemies. This was particularly the case because the Venetians knew that they had the strength to take what they wanted: the doge had everything to gain and nothing to lose in this situation, whatever John’s orders or lack thereof. The Venetians followed the sack of Rhodes by raiding as they pleased. According to Fulcher they attacked Methone and Samos, scattered targets that suggest either a widely marauding fleet looking for soft targets, or that the Venetians split into two, or that Fulcher merely has incomplete information; finally, they wintered on Chios. They destroyed the walls of towns, seized property, and took boys and girls into captivity.24 All sources, including Kinnamos, then confirm that the Venetian fleet used Chios as a base from which to plunder Lesbos and Andros in early 1125, before finally leaving on 29 March with the ­relics of St. Isidore the Martyr (still in Venice’s San Marco) and many prisoners, and arriving back in Venice in June as the conquering heroes of both the Levant and the Aegean.25 John’s response to these attacks is almost undetectable in our sources. Devaney and Pryor account for the Venetian success citing the lack of local naval fleets, though with the plan of John Poutzenos to centralize the fleet not instituted until 1126, we must assume that the existing localized fleets were simply unable to see off the Venetian armada.26 There is some hint that John did not ignore the suffering of the Aegean region, as in the introduction to Prodromos’ 1133 poem for the

22 Devaney posits that John had ordered Venetians to be treated as enemies, see: Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, p. 139. 23  Ibid., p. 140; see Pryor, ‘Water Supplies’, pp. 23–4. 24  Fulcher of Chartres, 3.41, pp. 758–60. 25  Dandolo, pp. 234–5; ‘Historia Ducum Veneticorum’, p. 74; ‘Translatio Isidori’, pp. 323–4; ‘Annales venetici breves’, p. 71; JK, 281; Pietro Giustiniani, Venetiarum historia vulgo Petro Iustiniano Iustiniani filio adiudicata, ed. R. Cessi and F. Bennato (Venice, 1964), pp. 106–7. 26  Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, p. 139; J. Pryor and E. Jeffreys, The Age of the ΔΡΟΜΩΝ: The Byzantine Navy ca 500–1204 (Leiden, 2006), p. 111.

126  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 0

200

0

400 miles

300

600 km

Black Sea

Constantinople Lemnos

Ae

Corfu

ge

Lesbos

an

Chios

Se Andros

a

Cephalonia

Samos

Methone Ionian Sea

Rhodes Crete

Map Three  The Venetian War, Lau, ‘The Naval Reform of Emperor John II Komnenos: A Re-­evaluation’, p. 118.

conquest of Kastamon, he mentioned that John had won a victory at Lemnos.27 Further, John had had ‘as many [victories] by land as by sea and islands’.28 Though rhetorical exaggeration of the emperor’s deeds is to be expected, a specific ex­ample of a victory at Lemnos is noteworthy, as John would have been too young to have campaigned there in the eleventh century, and short of another unknown victory against an unknown foe, the only military operations in this region would have been those conducted against the Venetians. Lemnos also makes sense as a site for an imperial victory, because imperial fleets would have been able to withdraw north towards Constantinople if they were overpowered, and imperial forces could most easily have been sent to Lemnos from the Anatolian coast or Constantinople were John to have launched a relief force from there; and finally it makes sense because Lemnos is as much at threat from a hostile fleet operating from Chios as Methone and Samos, and so would have been a likely target for the Venetians. Though this is but one reference to an unspecified victory at sea, there is specific mention of Axouch commanding triremes and other ships in a 27  Prodromos, IV, lines 271–4. This section forms part of the general re-­evaluation of John’s navy in: Lau, ‘The Naval Reform of Emperor John II Komnenos: A Re-­evaluation’, pp. 115–38. 28 ‘Ὦ νίκη Λαοδικεινή, νίκη Σωζοπολῖτις, ἑτέρα νίκη Σκυθικὴ καὶ Δαλματῖτις ἄλλη, ἑτέρα δ᾽ Ἀμωριανή, Λημναϊκὴ δ᾽ ἑτέρα, ἀπλῶς ὁπόσας κατὰ γῆν καὶ θάλασσαν καὶ νήσους’, ibid.

Client Management and the Crisis of 1126  127 fragmentary encomium by Basilakes, and throughout the works of Prodromos are several mentions of John’s dominion over the sea as well as the land.29 Although these could be considered rhetorical flourishes, they would not have been credible to contemporary audiences had John had no successes at sea at all. Together with this military response, Dandolo tells us that John burned the Venetian quarter in Constantinople in retaliation for these atrocities, which though only mentioned in this source, sounds like the obvious response for an emperor to make, though the presence of Venetians in the capital again tells us that this conflict was seemingly not planned long in advance by either John or the Doge, else these Venetians would have already left the city.30 Whether the emperor planned to follow this victory at Lemnos with further reprisals, or he assumed that the conflict was over now that the Venetians had returned home, it is certain that John responded to Venetian aggression.31 Developments in the wider world would, however, overtake the emperor as the eventful year of 1125 continued. It is with good reason that this is the least well-­ documented period of John’s reign, as from the perspective of Choniates, or even the occasionally hostile Kinnamos, there were no good choices for the emperor at this point, but only the least poor of many bad ones. Together with the Venetian challenge came three princes who offered John a chance to accelerate his plans, but it was in following this course that a crisis of overextension would result.

The Three Fugitive Princes of 1125 As John planned his next move against the Venetians, three foreigners sought refuge in Constantinople. With the emperor’s strategy being based around the acquisition of clients, the appearance of these three appeared to be highly for­tuit­ ous, potentially giving John suzerainty over all of their lands, and had they come at different times, greater success might have resulted. With their arrival at the same time as the Venetians, however, John’s avid pursuit of such a strategy rather than focusing on each in turn would court disaster. These would-­be clients were Mas’ud of Ikonion, Álmos of Hungary, and Gradinja of Diokleia. The first was perhaps the most surprising: he was Alexios and John’s old enemy Mas’ud of Ikonion, the sultan who had prevented the implementation of the treaty of Philomelion and the lands of Ikonion from becoming an imperial client state. According to Michael the Syrian, just as Mas’ud had killed his brother Melik-­Shah to seize the throne, so too had their brother Arab, fourth son of

29 Basilakes, Or. 5, p. 117; Prodromos, V, line 19; XI line 120; XV, lines 67–70; XVI, line 213; XVII, lines 130 and 348; XXV lines 42, 64; all are references to victories at sea, sea battles, or dominion over the sea and islands. 30  Dandolo, p. 236. 31  Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, p. 141.

128  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Kilij-­Arslan, rebelled against Mas’ud, causing him to take refuge with his former enemy and ask for aid.32 The second was Álmos, great uncle to the empress Eirene-­Piroska, and uncle to the current Hungarian King Stephen II.33 Álmos’ brother, the late King Coloman, had crowned Stephen at the age of four in 1105 to secure his succession, and since then Álmos had threatened his brother and nephew’s throne, both in theory and in fact. Álmos had gained support from the German emperor and other neighbouring princes to stake his claim unsuccessfully on multiple occasions, so that as Coloman approached his death in 1116 he ordered Álmos and his seven-­year-­old son Béla to be blinded, and the latter castrated (though this was not carried out).34 Álmos understandably stayed quiet after this, likely in his monastery at Dömös, until his flight to Constantinople in 1125.35 During Álmos’ quiet years, Stephen had suffered one setback after another in all of his endeavours. He had successively lost to the Venetians, Bohemians and Austrians in his first years, and then in 1123 he had managed to snatch failure from the jaws of victory in an adventure against the Rus. In 1123 he had marched north in support of Yaroslav’s claim to Kiev, in alliance with Volodar of Premsyl and Vasilko of Terebovl, but then Yaroslav died at the start of the siege and Stephen’s lords obliged him to return home. The Hungarian Chronicle relates an invented speech by a certain Cosma Pázmány, which asks Stephen whom he would install in Rus, as none of his lords wanted it, and if he wanted it himself they would return home and elect a new king.36 As 1124 dawned, Stephen’s ar­mis­ tice with the Venetians over Dalmatia ended and he could be forgiven for thinking that his luck might be about to change. Stephen had recently married a Norman princess of Capua, perhaps forming an alliance directed against the 32  Mich. Syr. 16.2, p. 608; tr. p. 223; Korobeinikov, ‘Turks’, p. 711. For more on Mas’ud, see Lau and Shlyakhtin, ‘Mas’ūd I’, pp. 230–52. 33  JK, p. 9; NC, p. 17. 34  ‘Chronicon Pictum’, pp. 429–30; Makk and Kristó, Az Árpád-­ház uralkodói, p. 151; Kosztolnyik, Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, pp. 101–3; Tuzson, Istvan II, pp. 79–81; Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, pp. 16–17. 35 Kosztolnyik, Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, p. 104 for the quotation. The exact date of Álmos’ flight has also been much debated by scholars, with Moravcsik and Chalandon believing that he fled immediately after being blinded around 1116. Makk establishes an uncontroversial terminus post and ante quem, however, as he notes that the Hungarian chronicle tells us that Álmos fled ‘from King Stephen’, that both Kinnamos and Choniates place Álmos’ flight in the reign of John, and that he died in Constantinople in 1127. He narrows this range of 1118–27 down by noting that Álmos’ sister Adalheid, who was married to the Bohemian prince Vladislav I, was welcomed at court in 1123. This reception would be unlikely if Álmos was persona non grata. Further, Choniates tells us that the war started due to Álmos’ flight, and so it could not have been too many years between that flight and war breaking out. Both of these point to Álmos’ arrival in Constantinople around 1125. Fine also sides with this interpretation, even if he sees the entire Hungarian wars happening earlier, discussed in Chapter Five; NC, p. 17; ‘Chronicon Pictum’, p. 459; Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 57; Moravcsik, Byzantium and the Magyars, pp. 77–8; Fine, Early Medieval Balkans, pp. 234–6; Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, pp. 22–3. 36  ‘Chronicon Pictum’, pp. 437–9; Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, pp. 19–20; Tuzson, Istvan II, pp. 125–8.

Client Management and the Crisis of 1126  129 Venetians, a possibility also suggested by the Chanson de Geste d’Aspremont: this relates that the Pope had even crowned Stephen king of Apulia and Hungary, which, though false, does provide evidence of the fact that contemporaries perceived a link between the two states.37 The Venetian fleet under Doge Michele was at this time occupied in the Levant and so unable to intervene in Dalmatia, while John would also favour Stephen’s rule over that of the Venetians due to their actions in Corfu, so there was never a better time for Stephen to reclaim the Adriatic coast.38 Though initially successful, as demonstrated by Stephen’s granting of privileges to Trogir and Split as his father Coloman had done before, the return of the doge in 1125 with his fleet reversed all of his gains, so that yet again Stephen was left defeated and humiliated.39 These continuous defeats meant that by 1125 the Hungarian nobility began to consider even the possibility of a blind King Álmos as a serious alternative to Stephen, typified by the alleged speech by Pázmány referring to Stephen staying in Rus and the Hungarians electing a new king; the situation was not helped by the fact that Stephen had no direct heir aside from his nephew, Saul.40 Whether Álmos still desired the kingship by 1125, and therefore made an active choice to seek support, or whether he went for sanctuary to prevent Stephen finishing the job his father had started, his flight to Constantinople was a necessity.41 Either way, his presence there was a sword of Damocles above the beleaguered Stephen’s head, although as with Mas’ud this provided as much danger as opportunity for John. In addition to formulating a response to Venetian aggression and the decision of what to do with Mas’ud and Álmos, John faced another challenge: in 1125, Uroš I of Raška, son of Vukan, made his move to restore Juraj to the throne of Diokleia. This led to the arrival of the third of the fugitive princes, Gradinja the brother of King Grubeša of Diokleia.

37 Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 204; Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, p. 20; R.  Bossuat, Extrait des chansons de geste (Paris, 1935), p. 39; Tuzson, Istvan II, pp. 84–5. 38 Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, pp. 156–8; Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, pp. 204–5; Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, p. 20; Tuzson, Istvan II, p. 56. 39 ‘Chronicon Pictum’, p. 434; CFHH (1937–43), pp. 209, 688, 1172; Codex Diplomaticus regni Croatiae, Dalmatiae et Slavoniae vol. II, ed. T. Smičiklas (Zagreb, 1904), pp. 37–8; Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 204; Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, p. 21; Tuzson, Istvan II, p. 56; Kosztolnyik, Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, p. 107; I also agree with Makk that the suggestions of Deér that John and Stephen were allied at this point are completely unsubstantiated in any source. J. Deér, A Magyar törzsszövetség és patrimoniális királyság külpolitikája (Kaposvár, 1928), p. 109; H.  von Kretschmayr, Geschichte von Venedig I (Gotha, 1905), p. 224. 40  The chronology is not clear, but following Tuzson argues that in 1127 some Hungarian lords selected Saul, son of Sophia, Stephen’s sister, to be Stephen’s heir, but this was contested by other noblemen. Thus, there was possibly a conflict going on among the nobles of Hungary during Stephen’s future war with the empire, though whether this was full, open warfare is debatable. Tuzson, Istvan II, pp. 135–6. 41  Makk believes he was biding his time throughout, Tuzson argues that because Álmos was half-­ Greek, ‘spoke Greek and had relatives there’, naturally he would go there, and Kosztolnyik portrays Álmos as a ‘refugee’. Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, pp. 22–4; Tuzson, Istvan II, p. 140; Kosztolnyik, Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, p. 105.

130  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 The Chronicle of the Priest of Diokleia tells us that since John had campaigned against Vukan in 1118, Grubeša had reigned in peace for seven years, which if true would put the year of the events he next describes at 1125.42 He tells us of a successful attack by Juraj and Uroš on Diokleia, leading to Grubeša being killed and Juraj finally reclaiming his place as ruler there.43 In order to prevent yet another imperial intervention in favour of another branch of the family, Juraj invited Grubeša’s three brothers to court under oath and gave them lands, but his ploy was unsuccessful, as two of the three brothers escaped to the doux of Dyrrachium while only the third was imprisoned. The doux is called ‘Pirigordi[us]’ in the Priest’s Chronicle, a figure who Chalandon identified as a relation of a ‘Pyrrhogeorgios’ mentioned twice by Kinnamos.44 What followed was a political dance that was becoming well-­rehearsed for the family by this point, as the fugitive Diokleian princes once again requested imperial aid against Juraj from the doux of Dyrrachium, Pyrrhogeorgios.45 The Priest’s Chronicle then relates that Pyrrhogeorgios gathered an army, and marched with the brothers into Diokleian lands—­and it is here we have our answer as to why this episode does not appear in our Greek sources, as John himself was not the commander. In addition to Kinnamos and Choniates rarely mentioning events unconnected to the actions of John himself, it was hardly in John’s interest for it to be reported that he had lost control of the Serb situation. It is not so surprising therefore that, as with Mas’ud, Gradinja’s arrival goes unreported by Kinnamos and Choniates. The Priest’s Chronicle, on the other hand, mentions how both Gradinja and Pyrrhogeorgios came to Constantinople, the latter following the occupation of much Diokleian territory and Juraj blinding the third brother of Grubeša who did not flee. He also blinded Prince Michael, son of the old Diokleian King Vladimir, who had allegedly been working with the empire and who, quite naturally, blamed Juraj’s mother for poisoning his father.46 It is not stated as such, but is likely that Pyrrhogeorgios and Gradinja, as one of the two surviving fugitive brothers of the late King Grubeša, travelled to the capital to update the emperor on the situation in 1125, and to seek John’s blessing and imperial support for Gradinja’s bid for the crown of Diokleia, while the other remained to resist Juraj on the ground. Thus, John and his regime were left with the choice of where to distribute imperial resources: to focus on defeating the Venetians at sea, or on offering aid to Mas’ud of Ikonion, Álmos of Hungary or Gradinja of Diokleia. 42  Priest, XLV, p. 174. 43  Ibid.; Fine, Early Medieval Balkans, p. 233. 44  This later Pyrrhogeorgios was primikerios at the court of Manuel and a commander during the 1146 campaign against Ikonion, and he was again at court in 1158/9; he was possibly the father of the family member mentioned by Kinnamos in Stephenson’s opinion: Priest, XLV, p. 176; JK, pp. 44, 184; Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 73; Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 184. 45  Fine notes the bias of the ‘Priest’ once more here, as the account mentions Juraj as a tyrant who planned to treacherously imprison the brother despite his oath, with the author favouring the descendants of Branislav over the descendants of Bodin: Fine, Early Medieval Balkans, p. 233; Priest, XLV, p. 176. 46  Priest, XLV, p. 176.

Client Management and the Crisis of 1126  131

The Choices of 1125 We have no way of knowing whether the three princes arrived together, and thus whether John had the option to deal with each one in turn or whether from the start he had all of them at court. What resulted was that John prioritized supporting these princes above further offensive operations against Venice.47 For Mas’ud, we have no information as to any agreement that may have been made. The most likely terms of any treaty would have been that John would aid Mas’ud in his quest to become sultan of Ikonion once more, in exchange for Ikonion becoming a client of the empire; in effect, enforcing the treaty of Philomelion as originally agreed with Mas’ud’s brother Melik-­Shah. Such a possibility would have been irresistible, and even if Mas’ud were to betray John, it would keep the Turks of Anatolia fighting each other, rather than raiding imperial territories. Michael the Syrian tells us specifically that John was happy to encourage divisions between the Muslims, and so he welcomed Mas’ud and contributed money so he could continue his struggle against his brother Arab.48 This was a highly advantageous situation for John. Despite some unexpected results, this funding contributed to keeping the Anatolian frontier occupied until John was able to return in 1130, and so should be considered a qualified success. Vučetić puts this meeting into the context of the long tradition of Roman emperors aiding foreign potentates, from Justinian to John’s successor Manuel, and thus argues that John’s plan was standard practice.49 Vučetić’s argument should be extended to the other two princes as well, as despite not being rulers, John had much to gain from backing them, though he would also learn he had much to lose. For Álmos, a more considered approach was taken. Kinnamos, Choniates and the Hungarian Chronicle tell us that he was warmly welcomed at court, with John regarding him ‘favourably and receiv[ing] him with kindness’.50 More than this, he was given lands in Macedonia to support himself and his followers, at a place allegedly called Constantinia after Álmos’ newly assumed Greek name, Constantine.51 Kosztolnyik has interpreted this as the imperial court establishing a ‘hub of Magyar opposition . . ./on its territory’, a view which is supported by the fact that in 1129 John also gave shelter to Boris Kalamanos.52 He was the son of Euphemia of Kiev and may or may not have been King Coloman’s son

47  Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, p. 141. 48  Mich. Syr. 16.2, p. 608; tr. p. 223. Michael’s take on these events is that John had deliberately sent Mas’ud and Ghazi against the Armenians too for his own gain. Cf. Guevara, Aftershocks of Byzantium, p. 55. 49  Vučetić, ‘John II’s Encounters with Foreign Rulers’, p. 76, n. 22. 50  JK, p. 9; tr. p. 17; NC, p. 17; ‘Qui ab imperatore honorifice susceptus erat. Inposuit sibi nomen Constantinus; Qui et ibi iam pridem edificaverat civitatem Constantinam in Machedonia; et multi Hungari atrocitate regis Stephani fugierant ad ipsum’, ‘Chronicon Pictum’, pp. 442–3. 51  ‘Chronicon Pictum’, pp. 442–3, 459; Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, pp. 22, 131; Tuzson, Istvan II, p. 140. 52 Kosztolnyik, Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, p. 107; Boris will be discussed further below.

132  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 (depending on how we read her alleged adulterous behaviour). John’s support for these Hungarian claimants in addition to Mas’ud and Gradinja indicates that he did have a policy of sheltering any claimants to neighbouring thrones who might become useful later. Such a ‘hub’ would be of use to any emperor wanting potential leverage over his neighbours. Despite this warm welcome, however, no further support was given. If John did intend an offensive campaign to put Álmos on the throne of Hungary he would not have given him lands: such a welcome implies that this Hungarian prince would be there for the long haul, and that John was keeping his options open, rather than choosing to act immediately on behalf of this fugitive prince. There was no telling quite what the future held for Stephen’s regime and the kingdom as a whole. There was no such ambivalence regarding Gradinja of Diokleia, though intriguingly Pyrrhogeorgios was retained at court. Though Pyrrhogeorgios may have been replaced on account of some failure, considering he had gathered troops and brought Gradinja to the capital, he appears to have performed his job well enough, and the position of his relative at Manuel’s court suggests a family given promotion rather than one disgraced by failure.53 Pyrrhogeorgios may simply have been at the end of his term as governor, or perhaps the escalating situ­ ation meant John preferred the higher profile figure of an imperial relative to take control. The Priest’s Chronicle mentions that Pyrrhogeorgios’ replacement was a certain ‘Kirialexius de Condi Stephano’, who was sent explicitly to support Gradinja’s claim to Diokleia. This person can almost certainly be identified as Kyrios (Lord) Alexios Kontostephanos, the brother of Stephanos Kontostephanos who married John’s daughter Anna in 1125. This was possibly a move to bind the Kontestephanoi even closer to the imperial family before entrusting an army to them.54 The Priest’s Chronicle then tells us that the people of Diokleia hated Juraj and would not support him, so Stephanos had no problem installing Gradinja as king, though Juraj then fled into the mountains and forests of the Serb prin­ci­pal­ ities. Here he waged a guerrilla war against imperial and Diokleian forces, one that would continue to be a thorn in John’s side until 1129, with the Priest’s Chronicle telling us that he was always ‘lurking’ in the woods and mountains where he had fled.55 53  Contra: Papageorgiou, ‘John II’s campaigns against the Serbs’, p. 362, n. 36. 54  Stephanos was to be commemorated with Anna in the Pantokrator Typikon of 1136, putting him in the inner circle of the Komnenian clan; this impression of family significance is reinforced by references in Kinnamos, Choniates and the poems of Prodromos during Manuel’s reign, and indeed the number of family members that appear during the reigns of following emperors. Importantly Isaac Kontostephanos had been a protonobelissimos during the Synod of Blachernae in 1094–5, and then in 1107 had been promoted to the office of megas doux. Thus it is unsurprising that his brother was given the important post of doux of Dyrrachium and was the commander that won Gradinja his throne. Pantokrator Typikon, p. 45; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 501; Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 184; NC, pp. 77–8; tr. 433–4; JK, pp. 96–7; tr. p. 268; Prodromos, LIV; I. Corpus of Byzantine seals from Bulgaria vol. I, ed. I. Jordanov (Sofia, 2003), seal 361, pp. 235–6; AK, 8.8, p. 378 for Isaac Kontostephanos’ promotion: AK, 13.7, pp. 403–4. 55  ‘Rex autem cum suis per montana et per silvas huc illuc fugiens latitabat’, Priest, XLV, pp. 176–8; Fine, Early Medieval Balkans, p. 233. The role of the landscape in this conflict is very similar what

Client Management and the Crisis of 1126  133 The fate of Juraj will be discussed below, but the issue of the chronology and a clarification of terms must first be addressed. Traditional interpretations have sought to examine the three accounts of a Serb campaign, put them together, and then deduce when this expedition occurred, as discussed earlier in this chapter. In adopting this approach to chronology, they seek to amalgamate Choniates’ account of a short, victorious raid immediately after Berroia, Kinnamos’ description of a fortress falling to the Serbs in the context of the Hungarian conflict, and the Priest’s Chronicle’s detailed descriptions of the long-­term cut-­throat family politics of the heirs of Bodin of Diokleia and the princes of Raška. However, it is apparent that these sources are not describing the same few years, but different events.56 The timing of Choniates’ account leaves no time for a protracted campaign of occupying fortresses in Serb lands in 1122. This is in addition to the low probability that the imperial army would have been effective at executing a protracted campaign immediately after Berroia (not to mention John’s arrow wound), on top of resettling nomadic tribesmen and then heading straight back to Anatolia. Whereas a swift show of force, taking home plunder and swapping their Pecheneg captives for Serb ones, would have been the best possible use of an army that had already been together for a year, anxiously camping over the winter in preparation for fighting the nomad horde. This dramatic show of force, coupled with the prestige of defeating the nomads and the resettling of nomadic peoples on Uroš I of Raška’s doorstep was a good plan for calming Raška and Diokleia, such that they would be content as imperial clients once more.57 But this was not how events played out, as Uroš and Juraj bided their time until the next moment of imperial weakness in 1125, and then the events described in the Priest’s Chronicle took place. Following this, the fall of the fortress of Ras described by Kinnamos is most likely to have occurred at the climax of Juraj’s guerrilla campaign in 1129, as such an initiative, though embarrassing to John according to Kinnamos, would also draw Juraj out into the open, facilitating his capture.58 Clarification of these events also necessitates the argument that using the term ‘Serbia’ is unhelpful with regard to John’s reign, especially when scholars such as Fine advocate that ‘Raška’ and ‘Serbia’ become interchangeable during the twelfth century.59 This approach minimizes the continuing importance of Diokleia as the centre of imperial support in a region that was not yet any sort of proto-­Serbian state, but two entirely separate courts that competed for political control in the

happened during the Yugoslav guerrilla campaign against the Axis powers in the Second World War, with the Axis controlling the valleys and the guerrillas the mountains and forests, see further below. 56  Papageorgiou first advocated this possibility, deducing that there were two separate campaigns described by Kinnamos and Choniates rather than one. Incorporating further information from the Priest of Diokleia, the campaign of Stephanos Kontostephanos should be included in addition to those at which John was physically present, making these three separate campaigns. Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos, p. 22. 57  Priest, XLIII, p. 172. 58  See Chapter Six. 59 Fine, Early Medieval Balkans, p. 225.

134  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 area that occupies what would later become the Serbian kingdom.60 Though Raška would eventually win that battle, and it was that court which continued to act as the centre of resistance to imperial rule, the teleological association of Raška with Serbia in the historiography confuses the realities of power on the ground. The same problems have previously been encountered when it comes to analysing our sources, as the differing accounts of the Priest of Diokleia and the Greek chroniclers would be more easily reconcilable if the target of the ex­ped­ ition as either Diokleia or Raška was specified. Interpreting the evidence therefore, we know that the Priest’s Chronicle is the chronicle of Diokleia, focusing on that principality, and thus there would be little reason to include a punitive ex­ped­ition against Raška by John in 1123 if it did not have any impact on Diokleia. Additionally, Choniates and Kinnamos compress their accounts of John’s campaigns against both the Turks of Anatolia and Hungary; thus it should be no surprise that they have done the same with dating here.61 It is apparent that in 1125, John was dividing his resources between several endeavours: he continued to hold firm against Venetian aggression, he had financed Mas’ud in his campaign to retake Ikonion, welcomed Álmos to his court, and sent Kontostephanos to ensure the stability of the new Diokleian King Gradinja’s rule. John was attempting to secure everything at once: if these initiatives succeeded, he would make clients of the Serb principalities and Ikonion, influence Hungary, and demonstrate imperial superiority against Venice by not conceding to their demands. Unfortunately for John, his gambles did not all pay off.

The Rebellion of Gabras and Peace with the Venetians: The Crisis of 1126 As 1126 began, Doge Michele may have had some awareness that John’s ability to respond to further challenges was limited. According to Dandolo’s History, he was outraged enough at the burning of the Venetian quarter of Constantinople that he demanded all Venetians shave their beards lest they be mistaken for Greeks, and then launched raids on imperial possessions in the Ionian sea, plundering Kephalonia and seizing the relics of St Donatos from Corfu.62 Whether these targets were chosen for their proximity to Venice and its Adriatic territories, or whether John had begun amalgamating the localized fleets into a navy capable of taking on the Venetians in the Aegean is unclear. However, from the fragmentary 60  In the eleventh century, and perhaps earlier, there was a theme named Serbia in this region, but its exact location is debatable, with the only consensus being that it probably changed location. The debate I am addressing here is whether any of the Serb courts deserve the political designation of ‘Serbia’. See: Pirivatrić, ‘The Dynamics of Byzantine Serbian Political Relations’, p. 21. 61  Cf. similar compression in their accounts of John’s Anatolian campaigns in Chapter Seven; for Hungary, it has been noted previously by Kosztolnyik, Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, p. 115, and will be discussed further in the following chapter. 62  Dandolo, p. 236.

Client Management and the Crisis of 1126  135 encomium to Axouch, we do know that John constructed a fleet in response to other threats on another occasion, and the date of the centralization of naval revenue would suggest a coordinated response was underway.63 Nevertheless, however well such a policy was working, or whatever plans he may have had to take the fight to the Venetians, in 1126 John received a huge shock to his regime in the form of an open rebellion by Doux Constantine Gabras of Chaldia. Though his Serb clients had been troublesome throughout, and he had faced down the Philopation conspiracy in his first year, this was the first direct challenge to his regime from the governor of an imperial province on a scale not seen since the dark decade of the 1090s under Alexios, as referenced in the Muses.64 Though Alexios had had trouble with the Gabras family before, with imperial power strong and John’s star rising, Constantine had stayed loyal. Now, with John’s regime overstretched in 1126, he made his move. The dating of his rebellion is hidden in the Greek sources, with Kinnamos letting it go unmentioned, and Choniates following his usual modus operandi and only mentioning it in the context of John setting off to deal with it in 1139, merely saying Constantine ‘had long held Trebizond subject, governing that city as a tyrant’.65 We do, however, have a date contained in a monody by Theodore Prodromos for his teacher Stephen Skylitzes, who had been made Metropolitan of Trebizond in 1140, which tells us the province had been detached for fourteen years before his arrival, giving us a clear date of 1126.66 This dating is confirmed by Michael the Syrian, who tells us that Mas’ud’s attempt to gain further support for his bid to regain Ikonion had born fruit as he had married Ghazi Danishmend’s daughter at this time. Ghazi and Mas’ud would then drive Arab from Ikonion, followed by a campaign against the now rebellious Gabras, establishing a terminus ante quem of c.1128.67 This was a disturbing development in itself, as it suggested that Mas’ud was aligning himself with a power other than the empire. Further, that Ghazi was taking advantage of Gabras’ rebellion to annex Trebizond, mirroring John’s own strategy of absorbing weaker rivals where possible. The apparent advantages of a diplomatic context where Turks were guaranteed to fight each other in any eventuality had now transformed into one where into one where two major Turkic powers had allied against a Roman rebel, setting a dangerous precedent. But, with the Venetian war, Serb insurrection and Hungarian threats, John did not have the resources to intervene.

63 Basilakes, Or. 5, pp. 116–19. 64  Muses I, lines 294–5; AK, 9.2, pp. 261–3. 65  NC, p. 34; tr. p. 20. 66  L.  Petit, ‘Monodie de Théodore Prodrome sur Etienne Skylitzès métropolitain de Trébizonde’, IRAIK 8 (1971), p. 3; this argument was first advanced by Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, pp. 37 and 84, and C.  Cahen, ‘Une famille byzantine au service des Seldjuqides d’Asie Mineure’, Polychronion; Festschrift Franz Dölger zum 75. Geburtstag, ed. P. Wirth (Heidelberg, 1966), pp. 145–9. 67  Mich. Syr. 16.2, p. 609; tr. p. 224; this campaign of Ghazi and Mas’ud against Gabras will be discussed further next chapter, and below as it must have happened after Ghazi and Mas’ud campaigned against both Arab in Ikonion and Thoros of Armenian Cilicia.

136  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 In 1125, John had decided to continue supporting all potential clients, but by 1126 he was overcommitted, and his strategy had to be curtailed by the reality of the situation. Campaigning against Juraj, backing Mas’ud, giving shelter to Álmos and war with Venice was already stretching himself thin, but with Gabras now in revolt his grip on the situation began to look as if it was slipping—­some element of compromise was required, and so John chose to sue for peace with Venice. Only one Venetian source tells us that John sent ambassadors to negotiate a peace, following a standard paradigm of glorifying the doge through the hu­mili­ ation of the emperor; despite this, the negotiations appear to have taken place in Constantinople as the text of the resulting chrysobull stipulated that the Venetians must follow the oath taken by their ambassadors by committing it to writing, in John’s presence.68 The text of John’s chrysobull to the Venetians is contained within an 1147 chrysobull from Manuel’s reign, and from its terms, it would seem that both sides gained and lost. As the Venetians had demanded all along, John restored the generous trade privileges his father had first given them, and in add­ ition, John undertook to treat them with the respect due to allies who had risked much to defend the empire during his father’s reign.69 As with the empire’s other neighbours, the nomads and the Serbs, Venice thus appears to have fulfilled its own strategy of causing trouble until it attained a better deal.70 In exchange, however, the Venetians promised not only to become allies and indeed servants of the emperor once more in a general sense but also to perform some specific services for the empire that unfortunately are not mentioned in the text. We do know they were to follow their oath to the empire fully, as promised by their emissaries, and as made in writing.71 The results of this peace were that John never again had any problem with Venice. Indeed, during embassies to the German emperor in 1135 and 1140–2, the Venetians supported John’s policies in securing an anti-­Norman coalition, and John’s conquest of Antioch.72 Doge Michele’s successor in 1130, Doge Pietro Polani, was also decidedly pro-­imperial in outlook: he faced up to renewed Hungarian aggression in Dalmatia, did not participate in the Second Crusade, and despite some domestic resistance, endeavoured to

68  Devaney interprets these events as John making a simple cost/benefit calculation and deciding it was not worth his while building and training a better navy; but with a navy possibly already being organized the signing of a peace was less a result of Venetian intimidation, and more the fact that neither side had much to gain any longer, and indeed John merely had more to lose by continuing to fight if he let other situations get out of hand. Dandolo, p. 237; Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, p.  141; ‘Emperor John II Komnenos, chrysobull to the Venetians’, Regesten der Kaiserurkunden 3, no. 1304; FRA 12, 1 (1856), no. xliii, pp. 95–8; see below for text regarding the oath and the written copy. 69  FRA 12, 1 (1856), no. xliii, p. 96. 70  Cf. previous chapters and Barfield, The Perilous Frontier, pp. 90–1. 71 ‘simul autem et propria quedam seruitia per scriptum et jusjurandum conuenientes seruire Imperio meo et Romanie, uelut facta ab apocrisiarijs eorum symphonia latius de his tractat . . ./ Verum tamen debent et Venetici eam, que per factam scripto conuentionem a legatis eorum promissa sunt, jurejurando Imperio meo firma seruare incorrupta’, ibid., pp. 97–8. 72 Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos, pp. 19–20.

Client Management and the Crisis of 1126  137 support Manuel I against the Normans in 1147 in exchange for the same guaranteed privileges, while trade between the two powers grew.73 This peace therefore allowed for the election of a pro-­imperial doge, paying long-­term dividends for John and his successor. Scholars have interpreted this peace as everything from a humiliation for Byzantium as John pursued a ‘needless war’, to John restoring the balance that the Venetians had upset with their insults and unlawful behaviour before 1118.74 Even seen in the best possible light, the Venetian war was hardly a great success for John. His obstinacy in not starting negotiations earlier had cost lives and materials, but he had at least established the principle that trade privileges were something earned through service to the empire, and they were not an inalienable right for the Venetians. The Venetians had followed a similar pattern to other imperial neighbours in ‘rebelling’ until a better deal was offered, and John was forced to propose that very deal in order to pursue his own strategy to acquire more clients, and to salvage the situation into which his own ambition had led him. The catalyst for John making the peace may have been Gabras’ rebellion compounding the resources John was expending in Anatolia and the Balkans, but despite achieving a less than ideal peace he did manage a deal that resulted in gains for the empire. Equally, the pre-­1126 imperial navy’s failure to defend against the Venetian fleet had brutally demonstrated that the old order of the eastern Mediterranean had changed, and to succeed in the new order it would have to evolve. Thus, John adopted a new naval policy of having one centrally controlled fleet that would be more suitable for supporting his operations over land, and which would be the numerical equal of a large fleet such as that used by the Venetians.75 However, John would have to work his way out of the 1126 crisis before he could develop such a fleet. Between the continuing guerrilla war against Juraj, Mas’ud’s bid for a return to Ikonion, and rising tensions with Hungary, John was still overcommitted. With Gabras now in rebellion as well, making peace with the Venetians was the lesser of many evils. Prosecuting a campaign against a power that could easily become an ally once more bore no comparison to the potential gains of settling clients in Anatolia and the Balkans, or indeed the potential losses if he ignored Hungary or allowed others to believe they could rebel with im­pun­ ity. So, John made peace with the Venetians, meaning he could now focus upon other problems and opportunities, and use his time and resources far more

73  Dandolo, p. 242; Documenti del commercio veneziano, ed. della Rocca and Lombardo, nos. 53, 54, 56, 57; Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, pp. 321–2; Lilie, Handel und Politik, pp. 22–4; Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, pp. 143–4. 74 Devaney, ‘Byzantine-­Venetian Conflict’, p. 142; Dumbarton Oaks exhibition, God’s Regents on Earth: A Thousand Years of Imperial Seals, curated by Jonathan Shea, found at: http://www.doaks.org/ resources/seals.gods-­regents-­on-­e arth-­a-­t housand-­years-­of-­byzantine-­imperial-­s eals/rulers-­of-­ byzantium/john-­ii-­komnenos-­1118–43; ODB, pp. 1046–7; Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos, pp. 18–19. 75  Lau, ‘The Naval Reform of Emperor John II Komnenos: A Re-­evaluation’, pp. 115–38.

138  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 ef­fect­ive­ly. In truth, 1126 reveals both the best and the worst aspects of an empire of client management whose success and failure was based on the loyalty and treachery of those clients. Concerning these projects, Kontostephanos continued to carry out operations against Juraj, likely involving the building and restoration of imperial fortresses in the western Balkans.76 Mas’ud and Ghazi Danishmend drove Arab from Ikonion, though their war was not over as Arab fled to the court of Prince Thoros Roupen of Armenian Cilicia, maintaining a state of uncertainty and warfare in Anatolia that Gabras’ rebellion had further exacerbated.77 However, it was the situation with Hungary that was to explode in 1127, delaying direct action against Gabras. For while John was negotiating with the Venetians and keeping an eye on Mas’ud and Gradinja, his treatment of Álmos had not gone unnoticed by Stephen of Hungary. John’s decision to support all three princes while waging war with Venice had resulted in the crisis of 1126. Though he had weathered the storm by making peace with Venice, he was now in uncharted territory, threatened with challenges unlike those he and his father had faced. Nevertheless, John had taken the first step to securing the empire’s place in the new order of the Balkans by seeing off the nomad invasion, and he was now committed to enforcing imperial hegemony over both Diokleia and Raška. To see this policy through to the end, and to return to John the freedom of action necessary to continue his overall strategy, entailed war with Hungary.

76  Cf. fortress building, Chapter Ten.

77  Mich. Syr. 16.2, p. 609; tr. p. 224.

0

100

0

100

H U N G A RY

200 miles 200

300 km

Zemun

Ras

Ad

Dubrovnik

ri at

ic

Kotor

Se

a

Bovan Brvenik

Niš

Lipljan

Diokleia

(ancient Roman Miltary Road)

Map Four  Balkans.

Dyrrachium

Dristra

Prizren

Skopje

Ohrid

Păcuiul lui Soare

Danube R . Dobrich Ruen

Serdica Battle of Berrhoia

Debar Constantinople City Fortress John Fortress Battle Modern Site Via Militaris

Axiopolis

Garvan

Zvečan

Nufărul N

Vidin

Galić

Jeleč

Skodra

Ravanica

Olt R.

Studenica

Braničevo

Ram

. aR Mor a v

Pečenog

Split

Turcoaia

Battle of Haram

Belgrade Šibenik

Isaccea

Philippopolis

Maritsa

Black Sea

Anchialos

R.

ROMAN EMPIRE

Adrianople

Constantinople Kastoria

Aegean Sea

Six The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War Since the marriage of John and Piroska-­Eirene, politics between Byzantium and Hungary had taken on an especially personal dimension: one that can only have deepened once Prince Álmos Árpád, fled to the empire, where he was known as Constantine.1 Whether he aimed to form a court in exile or not, Álmos’ flight was yet more fuel for the rising tensions between the two sides, which had first arisen when Alexios had chosen not to support King Stephen over Venice in Dalmatia, betraying the alliance that had allowed him to defeat Bohemond. Choniates tells us there was both a ‘specious and ostensible cause’ and a ‘hidden cause’ for the outbreak of war, with that relating to Álmos’ warm reception, being the true one.2 However, as the war continued in tandem with Juraj’s continuing guerrilla war, it becomes apparent that neither of these causes could have maintained the conflict until the end of the decade. Both John’s and Stephen’s goals evolved as circumstances changed. This highlights once again why events of John’s reign should be examined chronologically, in context, as they can only be truly understood as a product of their time. With this chronologically sensitive understanding, the final disposition of John’s western provinces can be better interpreted.

Countdown to War with Hungary This ‘public cause’ for the war related by Choniates was that Hungarian merchants who had come to the imperial town of Braničevo on the Danube had been attacked and ‘the worst of crimes had been done to them’.3 The land route from western Europe to the Levant went through Hungary and then on the ancient Roman roads through the imperial towns of Belgrade, Braničevo, Serdica (modern Sofia), Philippopolis, and Constantinople: control over the trade on this route may well have been a significant factor in tensions between the empire and 1  Tuzson believes Álmos to have been the son of King Géza’s unnamed Byzantine wife, and that he had always had ties in that direction, possibly forming the locus of a pro-­Byzantine faction in Hungary: Tuzson, Istvan II, especially pp. 78 and 137–41. Though Makk and Kristó believe Álmos was in fact the son of Géza’s first wife, Álmos could still have formed such a faction regardless of his ancestry. Makk and Kristó, Az Árpád-­ház uralkodói, p. 125. 2  NC, p. 17; tr. p. 11. 3 Ibid.

Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143. Maximilian C. G. Lau, Oxford University Press. © Maximilian C. G. Lau 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198888673.003.0007

The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War  141 Hungary, for the people, if not for the rulers.4 These roads were also essential for imperial control over these regions, facilitating both communications and the movement of armies, and with the Raškan insurrection ongoing, the empire was already concerned about its security.5 Even if this was the ‘specious and ostensible’ cause by Choniates’ reckoning, it may not have been an untrue one. Recent archaeological work in Braničevo has also demonstrated how it was a booming city, with Kinnamos also referring to it as a polis, an urban settlement, rather than simply a fortress.6 The finding of many seals, coins, elite glasswork, extensive ceramics, two helmets, and the remains of extensive suburbs support the theory that this was a major site of commercial exchange and imperial government, where such an incident is likely to have occurred between merchants.7 Therefore, as well as being a commercial city of great interest to the empire, it would have been a tempting target for Stephen to sack for plunder, located directly across the Danube from Hungary. In addition to Choniates’ suggestions, another possible cause of the war is mentioned only in Hungarian sources, and that is the involvement of the empress, Piroska-­Eirene. The Hungarian Chronicle tells us that the war began when Eirene

4 Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, pp. 21–2; Moravcsik, Byzantum and the Magyars, pp. 77–8; see Map Four; Tuzson posits that these merchants may in fact have been Flemish, operating under Norman overlordship in the Hungarian border provinces, and that therefore actions against them were in fact part of a Byzantine-­Norman dynamic rather than necessarily a Byzantine-­Hungarian one. This adds to Tuzson’s theory that the war was motivated by the Norman party at Stephen’s court; Tuzson, Istvan II, pp. 137–40. The presence of Hungarian traders in Constantinople is attested from the reign of St Stephen of Hungary in the early eleventh century, and from the travels of Benjamin of Tudela in the 1160s–70s. ‘Vita maior Stephani regis Ungariae’, ed. G.H. Pertz, MGH (S) 11 (Hannover, 1854), p. 235; Benjamin of Tudela, The Itinerary of Benjamin of Tudela: Critical Text, Translation and Commentary, M. N. Adler (London, 1907), p. 16; Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 54; Avramea, ‘Road and Sea Communications’, pp. 65–6. 5  Ibid.; Madgearu, Military Organization on the Danube, pp. 147–50. Madgearu points out that by the late twelfth century, this whole region was referred to as the Paristrion, implying perhaps that the Paristrion was now a ‘military’, stripped-­down province that was otherwise a reservation for subject peoples had extended along the Danube by that point. This is a source dated to 1193, but it does tell us that this road was the sine qua non of imperial control in the Balkans. Tornikes, Lettres et Discours, letter 342/3. Its role in trade has also been noted: A. Laiou, ‘Regional Networks in the Balkans in the Middle and Late Byzantine Periods’, Trade and Markets in Byzantium, ed. C. Morrisson (Washington, DC, 2012), p. 127. 6  J. Kalich, ‘Zemun u XII veku’, ZRVI 13 (1971), p. 34; G. M. Jevtić, ‘The Suburb of the Town of Braničevo—­ a Model of a 12th-­ Century Settlement’, Processes of Byzantinisation and Serbian Archeology, ed. V. Bikić (Belgrade, 2006), p. 123. 7  The glass vessels being purple imply that they were used by John on one or both of his two visits there: D. Spasić-­Đurić and S. Jovanović, ‘A 12th Century Set of Marvered Purple Glass Vessels from Braničevo (Serbia)’, Starinar 68 (2018), pp. 151–73; V. Ivanišević and B. Krsmanović, ‘New Byzantine Seals from Morava (Margum) and Braničevo’, Starinar 68 (2018), pp. 111–24; D. Spasić-­Đurić, ‘A Note on New Archaeological Explorations in Byzantine Braničevo’, Processes of Byzantinisation and Serbian Archeology, ed. V.  Bikić (Belgrade, 2006), pp. 109–15; P.  Komatina, ‘Military, Administrative and Religious Strongholds on the Danubian Frontier: The Example of Morava and Braničevo’, Processes of Byzantinisation and Serbian Archeology, pp. 103–7; G. Jevtić, ‘The Suburb of the Town of Braničevo—­a Model of a 12th-­Century Settlement’, Processes of Byzantinisation and Serbian Archeology, pp. 117–23; Radičević, ‘Fortifications on the Byzantine-­Hungarian Danube Border’, pp. 162–3. Further discussion of provincial government will follow in Chapter Ten.

142  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 expressed her opinion on the relationship between Hungary and the empire. She had informed Stephen that she regarded him as ‘her [liege]man’, although ‘even the emperor chastised her for speaking out of turn. However, when he heard this the king considered it a terrible slight and mustered an army’, which went on to invade Greece and devastate it with ‘fire and sword’.8 There is no other source for this event, but whether it occurred or not, it is representative of the concerns of the Hungarian court; though the Hungarian Chronicle dates from the fourteenth century, its antecedents and sources that came from the twelfth century were certain to have been concerned that under John and Manuel, the empire would recover its preeminent status in the region, and make Eirene’s comment the reality it had been in the eleventh century.9 If the incident is taken as fact, then it may well signify Eirene’s support for Álmos as king, as he may well have been willing to accept some level of imperial suzerainty if it secured him the crown of Hungary.10 The timing, however, was not opportune for John, occupied as he was with Juraj’s guerrilla campaign in Raška, and so Stephen may well have chosen 1127 specifically in order to strike proactively. Alternatively, the entire incident could hint that Eirene was behind the offer of sanctuary to Álmos in the first place, which would make her actions truly central to the outbreak of war. Finally, if it was a justification for the war invented by the author of the Hungarian Chronicle long after these events, then its symbolism is such that the narrative of the war is one of the old superpower seeking to reclaim its dominant role over Hungary, and the rising power of a resistive Hungary. Further, if the thirteenth-­ century legend concerning to the lands north-­west of Belgrade being Piroska-­ Eirene’s dowry is correct, then Stephen was also reclaiming lands that had been Hungarian until recently, which with the empress’ ‘betrayal’ of her native land he may have felt justified in seizing.11 One final, possible, indication as to the cause of hostilities, which links all the factors mentioned so far, comes from the war’s timing after John’s peace and renewed alliance with Venice. With that alliance, Stephen’s last hope of imperial support for his claims in Dalmatia was gone, and the possibility of a Venetian-­imperial alliance 8  ‘Interea imperatrix Constantinopolitana, filia regis Ladizlai nomine Pyrisk nunciavit regi Stephano dicens regem Hungarie esse hominem suum. Quam etiam contradicentum imperator castigavit. Cum autem hoc audisset rex, pro nimia reputavit iniuria et collecto exercitu in impetus spiritus sui invasit partes Grecie atque alias civitates Grecie igne et gladio devastavit’, SRH I, pp. 439–45; tr. Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, pp. 208–9. Despite the clarity of the Latin, this incident has been misinterpreted by many Hungarian scholars, who claim that John made the remarks and Eirene in fact defended the land of her birth as independent, enraging the emperor, and that Stephen went to war to answer the insult to his aunt. Though they could be deriving this from an unreferenced source, it is equally possible this is the product of the modern-­day popularity of St Eirene/Piroska in Hungary, and thus unease that a member of the beloved holy House of Árpád would support the Romans against the Hungarians. See Moravcsik, Byzantium and the Magyars, p. 79; Kosztolnyik, Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, pp. 104–7, and for her current popularity see G. Nagymihályi, Árpád-­házi Szent Piroska: Az idegen szent (Budapest, 2007), especially pp. 15–17, 61–4, 76. 9 Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, pp. 188, 209. 10 Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, p. 24. 11  Cf Chapter One, Sághy, ‘Greek Monasteries’, p. 11, n. 2.

The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War  143 to put Álmos on the throne of Hungary for the benefit of both Byzantium and Venice suddenly became a possibility. Thus, Stephen had to strike if he was not to be at the mercy of the empire, Venice and his own rebellious nobles. This conjunction of imperatives makes clear why the war broke out between Hungary and the empire, how John’s policies and actions interacted with those of Stephen and the wider world of political actors; from the fallout of this clash, the tone would be set for the dis­pos­ ition of the Balkans during the remainder of John’s reign. The resolution of this western question would also allow the emperor freedom of action in the east once more.12

‘Fire and Sword’ on the Danube Despite his poor record of success in foreign expeditions, Stephen demonstrated some astuteness on this occasion in matters of operational panning. All sources describe his opening gambit in 1127 as a decisive strike across the Danube, sacking Braničevo in the west and Serdica to the east according to Choniates, while Kinnamos adds that Belgrade was also taken, and both mention that the stones of Braničevo and Belgrade were used to build the fortress of Zeugme (Zemun/ Semlin) near Sirmium.13 This mention of the fortress as well as the plunder from these locations may highlight Stephen’s desperation to gain something tangible from his foreign campaigns for the first time, as though practicable by river, transporting these stones was certainly a significant endeavour over that distance, even if demolishing his enemy’s fortress to build his own made military sense. Equally, it reveals that Stephen was unlikely to have wanted to annexe the area, else he would have left the fortress standing and occupied it himself, but merely intended to jeopardize effective imperial control, for with strongpoints from Belgrade to Braničevo to Serdica taken, the aforementioned major artery of communication, trade and logistics for the empire across the Balkans was in Stephen’s hands.14 Control of this artery, and particularly Belgrade at the confluence of the Danube and the Sava rivers, was the lynchpin of the conquest strategies of the 12  See: B.  Özer, ‘Ioannes Komnenos Dönemi Bizans-­Macar İlişkileri ve Sırp İsyanı (1127–1129)’, Ortaçağ Araştırmaları Dergisi 3.2 (2020), pp. 436–41. 13  These attacks are confirmed in the archaeological record to this period by M. Popović, ‘Les forteresses du systeme defensive byzantine en Serbie au XIe–­XIIe siècle’, Starinar 42 (1991), pp. 171–5; JK, p. 10; NC, p. 17; The Hungarian Chronicle merely mentions Stephen ‘destroying the walls of Greek fortresses’ in Bulgaria, with 700 Frankish troops. SRH I, p. 440; tr. Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 209. On Zemun, see: Radičević, ‘Fortifications on the Byzantine-­Hungarian Danube Border’, pp. 163–4. 14  See Map Four. This therefore contradicts Tuzson’s theory that the war was to acquire lands for Stephen’s Norman subjects. Tuzson, Istvan II, p. 140. A number of seals have been found at the fortress of Pernik (also called Zemen), just to the south west of Serdica, which may have been one of the fort­ resses also destroyed by Stephen, or perhaps one of the few which held out due to the five seals that survive from there (respectively one from the emperor’s cousin Anna, three from her husband sebastos Manuel Botaneiates, and one from another sebastos Doukas; perhaps these important figures may have fled the sack of Serdica and were writing from their refuge at Pernik either during or after the war; respectively: Jordanov, Corpus II, 683, 117–19, 197.

144  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Romans, Goths, Bulgarians, Ottomans, Habsburgs, and all wars up until the twentieth century. Thus, the expulsion of the Hungarians and restoration of im­per­ial control over these sites became John’s immediate priority. The ongoing guerrilla campaign of Juraj of Raška was then a mixed blessing. Though Hungarian advances almost certainly aided Juraj’s partisans, they also meant that the empire already had troops operating in the area under Alexios Kontestephanos, likely out of the fortresses of Zvečan and Jeleč, which could form a second line of defence to halt Hungarian gains. John was also already in the Balkans himself, based in Philippopolis, and so was in position to direct a counter-­offensive.15 The dating of 1127 is contested by Fine, who in strictly following the Chronicle of the Priest of Diokleia places the entire Hungarian and

Figure 6  The oldest part of the walls of Belgrade castle, displaying distinctive layered red brick cloisonné masonry that is characteristic of the Komnenian period, though this exact wall is likely to date from the reign of Manuel. See: D. Radičević, ‘Fortifications on the Byzantine-­Hungarian Danube Border in the 11th and 12th Centuries’, Fortifications, Defence Systems, Structures and Features in the Past, ed. T. Tkalčec et al. (Zagreb, 2019), pp. 158–61. This wall faces the confluence of the Danube and Sava Rivers and was the bastion of imperial control in the region. 15  Popović, ‘Les forteresses’, pp. 175–9. This also gives weight to this specific dating, as because John is attested to have been at Philippopolis when war broke out, it is unlikely that the Serb campaigns were over, else there would be little reason for him to be in the region.

The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War  145

Figure 7  Northern view from the hilltop site of Braničevo to the Danube (and the site of the antique city of Viminacium).

Serb wars in 1125–6. This, however, assumes only single Serb expeditions, and would also mean that John did nothing of historical note between 1126 and 1130, which is very unlikely considering the level of his activity during the rest of his reign. A terminus ante quem is established by Makk for the wars in 1129, as Stephen’s ally for his second campaign, Moravian Duke Václav of Olomouc, is mentioned in a Bohemian source as having returned home from the wars and then dying four months later on 28 February 1129/30. Therefore, rather than postulating a long period where nothing of note occurred between 1125 and 1129/30, the war should be regarded as starting with Stephen’s 1127 offensive.16 The course of the war from this offensive onwards then becomes mired in the agendas of our sources, as well as the compression of multiple campaigns into one.17 This is first shown with regard to descriptions of John’s counter-­offensive. According to both Choniates and the Hungarian Chronicle, John made extensive preparations to ensure its success, while Kinnamos tells us he impetuously hurried to see the Hungarians off. This mismatch is explained by Choniates’ agenda to portray John as the best of emperors from which the others of the twelfth century could only decline, while Kinnamos as usual sees John as a poor predecessor to Manuel.18 In this case, the Hungarian Chronicle reinforces the account of Choniates, and John’s success bears witness to his preparations. Equally, the course of the war raises more questions concerning the objectives of the participants, as Álmos had died in September 1127/8.19 Stephen could

16  Makk uses modern dating of the year changing in December/January, whereas according to the Byzantine indiction dating system, it would be the same year, therefore the slash in dates. Fine bases his chronology on the work of Radojčić, found in B.  Radojčić, ‘O hronologiji ugarsko-­vizantijskih borbi I ustanku Srba za vreme Jovana II Komnina’, ZRVI 7 (1961), pp. 177–86; Fine, Early Medieval Balkans, pp. 235–6; Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, pp. 26–7, also note 42 on 131; though some avoid the dating issue such as Curta, Southeastern Europe, pp. 328–9, and others shorten the length of the conflict to just 1127–8, Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, p. 90, most agree on a 1127–9 dating: Moravcsik, Byzantium and the Magyars, p. 78; Kosztolnyik, Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, pp. 104–8, Tuzson, Istvan II, p. 139, Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 206; Madgearu, Military Organization on the Danube, pp. 149–50; for more on Václav see below. 17 Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, pp. 206–10. 18 Ibid.; JK, p. 10; NC, p. 17; SRH I, p. 440. 19  Again, with modern/Byzantine dating shown. CFHH, pp. 443, 1668. Michael the Syrian reports a particularly harsh winter in the east at this time, though again, whether this stretched to the Balkans is uncertain. Mich. Syr. 16.2, p. 608; tr. p. 225.

146  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 possibly have ended the war at this point with his objective fulfilled and plunder taken, as John may well have been happy to sue for peace with the Serb insurrection ongoing, along with the continuing chaos in Anatolia as Mas’ud and Ghazi made war on Thoros of Armenian Cilicia and Gabras of Trebizond. Instead, however, Stephen maintained his forces in control of the areas he had taken, perhaps hoping to press his advantage in the new year.20 When John’s counter-­offensive came, however, it would completely reverse all of Stephen’s gains, as well as ravage Hungary, further destabilizing his authority at home. John had used his time to order an imperial fleet to sail up the Danube, perhaps involving ships freed up for military offensives now that the Venetian threat was gone. Indeed, if ships had begun to be built and the new navy reorganized the previous year, now was the first chance to use them for imperial gain.21 Crucial to the success of the campaign was this combined use of the fleet with the army, such that it is also mentioned in Prodromos’ epitaph on John’s tomb. This led to the recapture of Serdica, Belgrade, and Braničevo, together with the newly built Zeugme and Haram (Chramon), which overlooked the river crossings on the Hungarian bank.22 Kinnamos tells us that John included an allied force of Ligurian knights and Turks for the campaign, the former perhaps indicative of John’s new treaties with Genoa, and the latter possibly an allied force from Mas’ud, repaying John for the aid in taking back the Seljuk sultanate from his brother Arab the previous year.23 This combined army and naval force met Stephen’s army at the battle of Haram in 1128. Here Kinnamos is at his most cutting, as his account of the battle seeks to strip all glory from John.24 He tells us that Stephen was ill, and therefore unable to command personally, and so John had no true opponent to match him, but Stephen still sent troops and had them guard the Danube crossing on the 20  Mich. Syr. 16.2, p. 608; tr. p. 223. 21  It is notable that Choniates and the Hungarian Chronicle make much of this innovative op­er­ ation; indeed, Madgearu calls it unique in Byzantine military history and a decisive victory, while Kinnamos does not mention it. JK, pp. 10–12; NC, p. 17; SRH I, p. 441; the naval operations may have been commanded by Doux Alexios of Berroia. Jordanov, Corpus I, 56. Further discussion of Doux Alexios in Chapter Ten. 22 ‘ἥπλωσεν Ἴστρος ὑπτιάσας τὴν ῥάχιν καὶ τοῖς ἐμοῖς πλώϊμος ὤφθη ναυμάχοις’, Prodromos, XXV, lines 41–2. In the classical Roman period, Belgrade (known as Singidunum) and Zeugme (known classically as Taurunum, also called Zeugminon and now modern Zemun) were linked by a bridge: A. Kazhdan, ‘Singidunum’, ODB, p. 1904. In modern times, the fortress of Ram has a ferry-­crossing site to Hungary, as discovered during fieldwork in 2014. The site of Kovin, also on the north bank of the Danube though in modern Serbia, also has earthwork fortifications built around this period, likely in response to this imperial invasion north of the Danube, see: Radičević, ‘Fortifications on the Byzantine-­Hungarian Danube Border’, pp. 164–5. See below for more on these sites, especially Haram that has so far not been identified in the archaeological record. 23 ‘συμμαχικὸν ἐπαγόμενος ἔκ τε Λιγούρων ἱππέων, οὓς Λωμπάρδους ἡμῖν ὀνομάζουσιν ἄνθρωποι, καὶ Περσῶν’. Brand takes the translation of ‘συμμαχικὸν’, allied, to mean mercenary, but considering contemporary events with Genoese participation in the coalition against Roger of Sicily and Mas’ud, ‘allied’ could indeed mean ‘allied’, or perhaps auxiliary might be a more apt term, though further discussion will follow in Chapter Eight for the Italian Theatre and Chapter Ten on the nature of the Komnenian military: JK, p. 10; tr. p. 18. 24  JK, pp. 10–11.

The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War  147 Hungarian side. Kinnamos relates that John sought to defeat the Hungarians by trickery: he divided his army, with half moving such that it made it appear that they were about to cross the Danube at Haram, while the other half was ordered to cross further upstream, such that they would be ready to assault the Hungarians from both sides at the same time. John’s stratagem worked perfectly. Attacked on two sides, the Hungarians fled, and while they were crossing a river (named as the Keraš in the Hungarian Chronicle, which is on the Hungarian side near Haram) the bridge collapsed, killing many, and allowing others to be captured, including the nobles Akuš and Keledi. At this point, John captured the fortress of Haram ‘without resistance’, and then he installed a new garrison at Braničevo under a certain Kourtikios. Thus, John’s victory in Kinnamos’ opinion was against a sickly opponent and based on luck and trickery. By contrast, the account given by Choniates and the Hungarian Chronicle mark the campaign as one of tactical brilliance and divine favour, though both sources compress events into one campaign ending with this battle, and show themselves to be twisting history for their own ends as much as Kinnamos, though in their cases in John’s favour and against Stephen, respectively. Choniates portrays the campaign as an irresistible advance by both land and river, with John, having rolled back the Hungarians, crossing the Danube in the imperial trireme with the army, and the cavalry scattering the Hungarians with a charge by his lancers.25 This victory allowed John free rein to seize Haram and Zeugme and carry off much plunder in the process. The Hungarian Chronicle is the most detailed of the sources, telling us that Stephen taunted John by saying he did not deserve to be an emperor, or even a king, but only a midwife, since only an old woman would be so feeble.26 John is alleged to have replied, ‘Certainly the king will believe he is in the company of a midwife when I sever his manhood like an umbilical cord.’27 Though Tuzson opines that such insults were customary between warring leaders, it would seem that Stephen and John were engaged in an acutely personal struggle to have had such an exchange noted in the Chronicle. In fact, for both men their reputation as the dominant power in the Balkans was at stake. Though John had beaten the nomads, defeat at Stephen’s hands would lead to an unravelling of his suzerainty over his provinces on the southern bank of the Danube and with them the Serb principalities. For Stephen’s part, this was his last chance not be deposed by his own nobles.28 The Chronicle continues that the Hungarians were unable to prevent the Greeks crossing at Haram due to the Greeks setting their ships ‘alight with sulphurous fires’, almost certainly referring to the use of ‘Greek

25  NC, pp. 17–18. 26  SRH I, pp. 440–1. 27  ‘Indubitanter credat rex quod sua, in presenti anus, simul cum umbilico virilia incidam’, SRH I (1937), pp. 440–1; tr. Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 209. 28 Tuzson, Istvan II, p. 140.

148  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Fire,’ and so the Hungarians were brought to battle near the river Keraš.29 The Hungarians were under the command of a certain Setephel, identified with ‘Serefel’, a name associated with the prominent Györ family, who were of French origin with a fleur-­de-­lys on their shield design, making it likely that the Hungarian army on this occasion included a significant Frankish, possibly Norman contingent.30 Whether the imperial Ligurian knights were simply stronger than the Normans and charged as Choniates relates, or whether the combination of Latin knights, Turks and other imperial troops bested the Franks and Hungarians, the river is alleged to have become ‘so infused with human blood that it appeared to flow with gore alone’. Warriors threw corpses into the river to try to cross them like a bridge, with our sources here probably mirroring Kinnamos’ account of the collapsed bridge but with far more macabre drama. Regardless of the narrative in question, the result was the same: a Hungarian rout, with the death of a Count Ciz mentioned together with that of ‘other fine soldiers’.31 This blood-­soaked but triumphant image suits the narrative paradigms of Choniates and the Chronicle. Each shows John in the best light and Stephen in the worst by ending their accounts at this point. Choniates then alludes to ‘several other engagements’ before peace was agreed, and the Chronicle skips straight to a description of how peace was finalized, leaving Kinnamos, uniquely, to go into detail about these events.32 Despite his own bias against John, his account has some merit when compared to earlier evidence from Hungarian sources. Though John withdrew to Constantinople after his victory at Haram, the battle still had a dramatic effect on Stephen’s position in Hungary, as while he was ill, ‘the traitors elected the counts Bors and Ivan as kings’.33 Makk notes that the use of the word comes, which I have translated as count, indicates that they were both members of Stephen’s inner circle.34 Despite this, Stephen was still able to cling to power when he recovered, as the Chronicle then tells us that Ivan was beheaded and Bors driven from court into exile in Byzantium. This may well have been done by other members of the court rallying around Saul as Stephen’s heir, rather than Stephen himself, on the grounds that in claiming the kingship for themselves Ivan and Bors had proven to be too power hungry. Though some scholars have identified Bors with Boris, Coloman’s bastard son by Euphemia, Makk outlines how these are distinct individuals in our sources and so should not be conflated. It must be noted however, that despite Álmos’ death, John’s court would then have had at least two pretenders to the throne of Hungary in the persons of

29 Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 209; Madgearu, Military Organization on the Danube, p. 149; Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, pp. 90–1. 30  SRH I, p. 441; Tuzson, Istvan II, p. 139; perhaps indicating that Stephen was indeed unwell during the battle. 31  SRH I, p. 441; tr. Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 209. 32 Ibid. 33  SRH I, p. 444; tr. and commentary: Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, p. 25. 34 Ibid.

The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War  149 Bors and Boris, and thus the option of supporting a Hungarian coup to place a more sympathetic ruler on the throne was still open to John.35 In any event, surviving this coup appears to have given Stephen a second chance as his leading domestic enemies were now neutralized, and so as 1129 began, he undertook two diplomatic offensives to continue the war. Stephen called in his Bohemian-­Moravian alliance with Soběslav of Bohemia, who sent troops under the command of the aforementioned Duke Václav, thus replacing Stephen’s losses from the battle of Haram.36 This alliance was coupled with an overture to the ever-­opportunistic Uroš of Raška, who had almost certainly been supporting Juraj’s guerrilla campaign since its inception, and who had bided his time for just such an opportunity to strike.37 Stephen therefore renewed his assault upon the empire with his new allies, taking Braničevo once more, while the Raškans with Juraj’s guerrillas seized the imperial fortress of Ras, threatening Byzantine security across the Balkans once more. This was possibly an even more dangerous situation than before, now that the Raškans were in full revolt.38 35 Makk, Árpáds and the Comneni, pp. 25–6; Boris married ‘consanguineam sibi imperatoris Kaloioannis’ while in Greece according to Otto of Freising, and then made a play for the throne of Hungary with Polish and German support in 1132 and 1146, respectively. Their son, known as Kalman in Hungarian, was also called Constantine Kalamanos in Byzantium according to Kinnamos, and later became governor of Cilicia under Manuel. Boris and his family were therefore treated quite well in Byzantium throughout their lives, again showing the imperial policy of keeping diplomatic options open, just in case the Hungarian king became too intractable: ‘Chronicon Ottonis episcopi Frisingensis’, MGH (S) 20, ed. G. Waitz (Hannover, 1912), p. 259; JK, pp. 216, 259, 286. 36  CFHH, pp. 442, 532; Makk, Árpáds and the Comneni, p. 26. 37  This alliance was sealed by the betrothal of Uroš’ daughter Ilona (Elena/Helena/Jelena) to Álmos’ son, the blind prince Béla, whom the Hungarian Chronicle tells us Stephen found at Pécsvárad Abbey on his lands at that time. According to the Chronicle, Stephen knew that because of his illness he would not have a son, and when Béla produced an heir of his own with Ilona he became the heir apparent to Hungary rather than the more obscure Saul, as discussed by Kosztolnyik, Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, p. 108; SRH I, p. 443. The marriage was therefore a wholly Hungarian initiative to a potential ally two years into a war with the empire, and thus Uroš of Raška should be seen as a rebellious vassal rather than a semi-­autonomous prince as in Stephenson’s model (further discussion below). 38  As mentioned above, the dating and even chronology of all of this has been the subject of fierce debate. Makk sets out the fact that the rebellion of Bors and Ivan must have resulted from the defeat at Haram, and thus Choniates’ and the Chronicle’s accounts of the conflict must be from before that battle, particularly as Choniates obliquely references ‘several other engagements’ and the Chronicle too mentions continuing disagreements after Haram. The involvement of the Bohemian source provides the terminus ante quem, giving us a year in which the events Kinnamos describes occurred, and these are events that fit with broader incidents so that his account should be taken seriously, as seen below. The time taken for the Bohemian-­Moravian auxiliaries to arrive, for the attempted coup of Ivan and Bors to occur, and for John to consider the matter resolved in Constantinople before being recalled, fit the event comfortably into 1129. Makk, Árpáds and the Comneni, p. 27. The dating of the sack of Ras is of this decade, but cannot be narrowed down by any further archaeology, but the rebellion of Uroš with Juraj and Stephen together make this the most likely time that a heavily fortified imperial fortress would have been taken, and the non-­involvement of the Raškans before this point make its fall unlikely. Curta and Popović argue for an earlier date based on the earlier attempt of Juraj to seize power in Diokleia, but if this were true, I believe the Priest of Diokleia’s Chronicle would have mentioned it. Curta, Southeastern Europe, p. 328; M. Popović, Tvrđava Ras—­The Fortress of Ras (Belgrade, 1999), p. 404. What is certain is that the fortress was rebuilt after the war with Hungary—­with an ongoing guerrilla campaign, it is unlikely that it would have stayed ruined for most of the decade considering its location and defence capabilities.

150  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 8  Northern view from the summit of Stari (old) Ras, looking towards the modern city of Raška and the plain on which it sits, also showing the ruins of the town that sat at the foot of the fortress. Control of Ras would thus allow Juraj to control the entire southern plain from a position of strength, as well as block imperial reinforcements coming from the valleys to the south.

Our picture of this phase of the war is coloured by Kinnamos, our only narrative source. Indeed, the tone is set by his mentioning that John allegedly wasted valuable time in lashing Kourtikios for losing Braničevo (despite the fact that he did not abandon the walls until the enemy had broken into the city and set fire to the houses) and then humiliating Kritoplos, the garrison commander at Ras (seized by the ‘Serbs’) by dressing him in women’s clothing and having him led through the marketplace riding an ass.39 Stephenson notes that Kinnamos’ account tells us less about whether these events actually occurred, and more about Kinnamos’ narrative goals. Just as later in the narrative, where he describes John’s impetuousness and ‘great rage’ at Kastamon, whether this event occurred or not cannot be determined without further evidence. The balance of probabilities might suggest that John would only have returned to Constantinople if he had believed the situation well in hand after the battle of Haram, and therefore may have been understandably critical of commanders, under whose watch the entire 39  JK, pp. 11–12; tr. p. 19.

The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War  151

Figure 9  North-­westerly view from the summit of Stari Ras, showing the remnants of the walls and demonstrating its lofty and all but unassailable position.

battlefront was reversed. Whether the disciplining of John’s commanders was controversial or not, it seems John had little trouble retaking Braničevo, making ‘haste to rebuild it’.40 Here Kinnamos’ narrative again focuses only on everything that went wrong with the campaign, seemingly linking John’s maltreatment of his commanders with his failures. Winter 1129 saw the imperial troops stationed on the Danube ‘suffering from winter weather and lack of necessities . . ./in severe distress’, leading the Hungarian troops to consider assaulting the weakened army.41 John was, however, warned by a Latin noblewoman, ‘outstanding in birth and other distinction’ of their intention, and so fortified what he could and made a retreat through the hill country so he did not lose his army in fighting a battle on the Danube he could not win. Despite the rough nature of this region, known as the ‘Evil Stair’, some Hungarian troops fell upon the emperor’s rear-­guard, and though they caused no great casualties, they made off with the awnings of the imperial tent.42 Kinnamos’ account of the Hungarian wars ends abruptly here, giving no ex­plan­ ation for what occurred later with the Hungarians, or indeed the Serbs. Though this could be because the account is an epitome of a longer original, it is a very 40  JK, p. 12; tr. p. 19.

41 Ibid.

42  JK, pp. 12–13; tr. p. 19.

152  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 odd place simply to end an account of these Balkan wars. If this abrupt ending was deliberate, the narrative would seem to be constructed in order to paint John as being justly humiliated for his poor treatment of his commanders, and generally to portray him as a ‘vengeful and spiteful coward’ (as characterized by Stephenson).43 Though there are no other major sources, we have clues that what Kinnamos is saying is not all hearsay without any source: Tuzson has identified the Latin noblewoman as the same or connected to the ‘Domina Christiana’ of the Hungarian Chronicle, whose burning was one of many ‘evil things’ that Stephen did that convinced Álmos that he must flee, and equally we know from the use of Bohemian troops under Václav that a second campaign involving them certainly took place.44 To reconstruct a coherent narrative, we do, however, have other accounts of two events with which to compare Kinnamos’ version, in addition to material evidence. First is the end of the Raškan insurrection according to the text of the Priest of Diokleia, when Doux Alexios Kontestephanos finally captured Juraj, taking him to Constantinople where he died under house arrest.45 Two seals of Juraj have also been found in the vicinity of Philippopolis that add material evidence to this account. They are inscribed with the legend ‘Geor Regis Bodini Filius’, literally ‘George, son of King Bodin’. Jordanov believes them to have been sent from captivity, perhaps attached to a document of abdication, as that would be the only way to explain why they were found near John’s base of operations, and why a Byzantine style seal in Latin naming him specifically as only the son of a king would be there.46 Secondly, there is the Hungarian Chronicle’s account of a peace negotiation by the main protagonists on an island in the Danube near Braničevo.47 John seems to have favoured speed over preparation on this campaign. There is no mention of either allied contingents or naval divisions, and it appears that Stephen’s diplomatic offensives had indeed wrong-­footed the usually militarily secure emperor. This focus on speed may also have been because of an unexpected advantage. The seizure of Ras is likely to have proved a double-­edged sword for Juraj’s and Uroš’ cause, as though Juraj had finally made some progress, the capture of Ras brought him and his warriors out of the woods and mountains and into the open for the first time, where they could be engaged in conflict directly by imperial forces. Thus John, and his Balkan commander Doux Alexios Kontestephanos, had a chance finally to end Juraj’s guerrilla war. Two chronologies are therefore possible: either (as Makk and Madgearu suggest) John went straight for the Serbs, eliminating them from the war, but this left his troops exhausted by the winter so that a strategic retreat into rough country to preserve 43 Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 208. 44  SRH I, 442; CFHH, pp. 442, 532; Tuzson, Istvan II, p. 140. Naturally she could not have both been burned and warned John, so either she was allegedly burned by Stephen later, or John was warned by one of her family if Tuzson’s identification is to be believed. 45  Priest, XLV, pp. 176–8. 46 Jordanov, Corpus I, 115–16, 98–9. 47  SRH I, p. 442.

The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War  153 his weary but still viable army was advised. Following the imperial army’s recovery in safer territory, Stephen was then obliged to negotiate; John was happy to do this that he could focus once more upon Anatolia.48 The alternative is that John split his forces, with some immediately retaking Braničevo while others supported Kontestephanos against the Serbs. The Hungarians therefore crossed the Danube in support of Juraj and Uroš, but John’s rear-­guard action prevented his enemies from joining up, meaning the unsupported Juraj and Uroš were crushed, and the Hungarians had to concede. The latter option has in its support the Priest of Diokleia’s account, in which Kontestephanos brings Juraj back to Constantinople in chains, as if the emperor had captured him; but if this was so, then it is likely have been mentioned in panegyric and the chronicles as another of John’s glorious deeds. Other Greek sources, such as the rhetorical works of Prodromos and Basilakes, are woefully unspecific, only remarking how Axouch had ‘shut away the Tribaloi’, and assorted other references to John having victories over ‘Dalmatians’ in the same context as the Skythians and Getae (nomads), or Dacians (Hungarians). Thus these victories could refer to either or both periods of fighting.49 Whichever of the two possible chronologies occurred, though John suffered a tactical defeat, and possible embarrassment at the awnings of his tent being taken, strategically he had won the war; Juraj was taken to Constantinople in chains, Uroš swore fealty and probably agreed once more to provide soldiers and ma­ter­ ials at the emperor’s call, while according to the Hungarian Chronicle, Stephen and John worked out a lasting peace on an island in the Danube near Braničevo.50 This meeting is only related by that fourteenth-­century source, and thus Vučetić is right to question whether it was written in accordance with western literary conventions of rulers meeting, rather than an account based on real events.51 If it is to be believed, however, it is significant that a frontier site was chosen, whereby the rulers met on neutral ground as apparent equals, leading Vučetić to conclude that this exceptional meeting may be some form of ‘missing link’ between the earlier period of Byzantine history whereby foreign rulers always visited the emperor on imperial ground, and often in Constantinople, and later periods where the emperor went abroad.52 Though that is certainly possible, as John would have been keen to return east to Anatolia, and so was

48 Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni, p. 27; Madgearu, Military Organization on the Danube, pp. 149–50. 49 ‘ὁ Τριβαλλὸς ταῖς λόχμαις ἐναποκλείεται’, ‘Λόγος εἰς τὸν σεβαστὸν καὶ μέγαν Δομέστικον’, Basilakes, Orationes et Epistolae, p. 118; short of otherwise historically unknown victories over other ‘Dalmatians’, this eponym must refer to the Serbs. References include: ‘ἑτέρα νίκη Σκυθικὴ καὶ Δαλματῖτις ἄλλη’, Prodromos, IV, line 271; ‘Δαλμάτης ἠνδραπόδισται’, Prodromos, V, line 26; ‘ἐμὴν ἀπειλὴν Δαλμάτης ὑπεστάλη’, Prodromos, XXV, line 40; ‘ὁ Δαλμάταις πῦρ ἐμπεσὼν καὶ φλὸξ Δάκαις’, Prodromos, XXIX, line 8; Basilakes ‘ἐκεῖνα καὶ Δαλμάτας ἐτρέψατο καὶ Σκύθας ἐπτόησε καὶ Νομάδας’, ‘Λόγος εἰς τὸν ἀοίδιμον βασιλέα’, Orationes et Epistolae, p. 52. 50  The duties of Uroš to John are discussed below. 51  Vučetić, ‘John II’s Encounters with Foreign Rulers’, p. 78. 52  Ibid., p. 79.

154  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 perhaps willing to make compromises on location and ceremony to speed the process along and so was willing to meet with Stephen as an apparent equal, the island location could have been just as much a show of imperial power. John’s victory at Haram had been secured by his naval dominance on the Danube, and so the emperor’s arrival by ship, indeed specifically the ‘imperial trireme’ mentioned by Choniates, would have constituted a perfect display of the might of the imperial fleet.53 Stephen would have humiliatingly had to either use an imperial ship himself to arrive on the island or use a much humbler vessel, while likely surrounded by John’s riverine navy. Far from being ‘neutral’ territory, the Danube had been proven to be a Roman waterway first and foremost in this war, and thus this peace treaty would have emphasized John’s power just as much. Though sadly no description beyond that of the Hungarian Chronicle exists, the practicalities of this peace meeting being on the river that John had won makes this interpretation more likely than that of John meeting Stephen as an equal. Regarding the results of the meeting itself, Kinnamos makes no comment on the Balkan settlement, in fact he never again mentions the Balkans playing any role in the events of John’s reign, and the Hungarian Chronicle merely states that the rulers first ‘accused and excused each other’ before finally they ‘agreed a firm peace and returned to their lands’. In contrast, Choniates gives us an impromptu explanation of John’s foreign policy.54 His passage in full relates that John: made peace with [Hungary]. Those remaining barbarian nations along the western borders of the Roman empire against whom he had often prospered in battle he compelled to enter into friendly relations. He felt it was his duty to use every possible means to win over the nations beyond his borders, especially those who sailed down to Constantinople to trade and petition favours. Thus, he also conciliated the Italian seaboard, whence ships spread their sail for the queen of cities.55

This foreign policy account must of course be seen as a product of Choniates’ portrayal of John as ‘the crowning glory, so to speak, of the Komnenian dynasty to sit on the Roman throne’, and that since John, emperors had got worse, leading to disaster, and specifically disaster from those nations beyond his borders who all traded with Constantinople.56 This inherent agenda accepted, this policy statement does nonetheless tell us a few things about John’s Balkan settlement. Though the mention of winning over ‘those who sailed down to Constantinople to trade and petition favours’ must principally refer to Venice, considering this statement is relayed after the war with Hungary, and refers to ‘nations’ along the western

53  NC, pp. 17–18. 54  SRH I, p. 442; tr. Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 209. Vučetić, ‘John II’s Encounters with Foreign Rulers’, p. 77. 55  NC, p. 18; tr. p. 12. 56  Ibid., p. 47; ibid., p. 27.

The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War  155 borders, other Italian ‘nations’ and perhaps those who dwell on the Dalmatian coast are also implied. We know that John made treaties with Genoa and Pisa so as to decrease the effect of the Venetian monopoly, and so this is what may be referred to in the second part with its explicit reference to Italian ships that come to Constantinople. We also have one explicit reference of renewed imperial suzerainty on the Dalmatian coast from the city of Kotor (just under 100 km south-­ east of Dubrovnik, modern Montenegro). A missal, produced in Kotor in the first half of the twelfth century and now in Berlin (Staatsbibliothek, Preussischer Kulturbezitz, lat. Fol. 920), contains within it the Easter liturgical commemoration (exultets) of ecclesiastical and civil authorities over the town.57 Alongside the clergy and ­people of the town, it commemorates the current pope, their bishop and abbot, and also to ‘Memento etiam domine famuli tui imperatoris nostri N.  et regem nostrum N.  et celeste illi concede uictoriam’ (Remember also, Lord, your servant our emperor N., and our king N., and grant him celestial victory’.58 Petrak has been the first scholar to investigate the identity of the emperor and king mentioned in this missal, and being the first half of the twelfth century, the king must be that of Diokleia, and specifically one before 1142 as from 1142 onwards the ruler of Diokleia bore the title of knez, prince, rather than rex, king: this narrows the king down to either Grubeša or Gradinja, and the emperor must be John.59 Similarly, an 1192 imperial chrysobull of Emperor Isaac II Angelos to the city of Dubrovnik restated that he was the supreme authority in the city, while regulating aspects of local government, jurisdiction, defence, permissible diplomatic alliances, and significantly granting Ragusans freedom of trade in the empire.60 We can therefore infer that John brought these trading cities of at least southern Dalmatia back into the imperial orbit, and that they remained in that orbit for the rest of the century. Indeed, with Kotor counting itself to a certain extent part of Diokleia as well, such cities should be counted as part of the imperial client network in the west. Finally, the reclamation of the southern Dalmatian coast bears out Bárány’s argument that 57  S. Rehle, ‘Missale Beneventanum in Berlin’, Sacris erudiri 28 (1985), pp. 469–510; T. Kelly, The Exultet in Southern Italy (Oxford, 1996), p. 255; Kelly, ‘The Exultet in Dalmatian Manuscripts in Beneventan Script’, Srednjovjekovne glazbene culture Jadrana—­Medieval Music Cultures of the Adriatic Region, ed. S. Tuksar (Zagreb, 2000), p. 34; R. Vojvoda, Dalmatian Illuminated Manuscripts Written in Beneventan Script and Benedictine Scriptori in Zadar, Dubrovnik and Trogir (unpublished doctoral thesis, Central European University, Budapest, 2011), pp. 314–25; and especially: M.  Petrak, ‘The Byzantine Emperor in Medieval Dalmatian Exultets’, Byzantium in Dialogue with the Mediterranean: History and Heritage, ed. D. Slootjes and M. Verhoeven (Leiden, 2019), pp. 60–2. 58 Kelly, The Exultet in Southern Italy, pp. 285–9; Petrak, ‘Byzantine Emperor in Medieval Dalmatian Exultets’, pp. 60–1. 59 More on the change in title below. Petrak, ‘Byzantine Emperor in Medieval Dalmatian Exultets’, p. 61. 60  Petrak, ‘Byzantine Emperor in Medieval Dalmatian Exultets’, p. 51, citing: Codex diplomaticus regni Croatiae, Dalmatiae et Slavoniae, pp. 256–7; Regesten der Kaiserkunden 3, no. 1611; J.  Lučić, Povijest Dubrovnika II. Od VII. st. do godline 1205 [The History of Dubrovnik. From the Seventh Century to the Year 1205] (Zagreb, 1973), pp. 60–2.

156  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Alexios’ concession of the suzerainty of these Dalmatian cities to either Venice or Hungary was only ever a temporary measure, and so with this peace in the west, John proved Alexios’ diplomatic ploy to have been entirely worthwhile as the empire had now regained its position in the region.61 Beyond Diokleia and the Italian and Dalmatian cities, however, we have to guess the details of John’s disposition of his western provinces. As it does not suit his narrative, we have no image in Kinnamos of Uroš swearing fealty to John as Uroš II would do for Manuel, but something similar must have occurred; the cere­monial occasion may even have been identical, with Uroš’ legal re­spon­si­bil­ ities to the emperor also agreed.62 Both Serb principalities were therefore settled by 1129, and with the territorial situation as the status quo ante bellum Hungary does not feature again. Therefore, the conclusion must be that John and Stephen were able to resolve any differences between them. As with many conflicts, the causes of the war, whether they had been connected to Hungarian internal politics, merchants, Empress Piroska-­Eirene, or Prince Álmos, had become fairly remote, if not irrelevant, three years after Stephen sacked Sofia, when the two monarchs met on an island in the Danube. Tuzson argues that because the war continued after Álmos’ death, he could not possibly have been its cause, and that Normans at Stephen’s court wanting new lands must be to blame.63 Álmos had died while Stephen’s star was in the ascendant, Stephen having captured much of the southern bank of the middle Danube. He was hardly about to break off the war while everything was going his way, particularly with his past record, and John still having Bors and Boris at court. Most recent commentators note the war as an entirely defensive enterprise on the empire’s part. They advocate that the only goal was for John to retain control of the central Balkan communication and logistics line based around Belgrade and Braničevo, and Stephenson specifically notes that John did not consider ‘Hungary a major threat’.64 Makk sees the empire as simply being caught up in a Hungarian conflict as to who would wear the crown after Stephen, and possibly while he still lived, and he critiques older interpretations that see the conflict as part of a ‘struggle against the imperial aspirations of Byzantium in the mid-­twelfth century’, primarily by noting that Hungary took all the initiatives in the war and the empire merely defended what belonged to it or what was in its interest.65 Papageorgiou notes however that beyond mere preservation of territory, the empire had an interest in Hungary having a pro-­Byzantine government, specifically noting that John’s grant of lands to Álmos demonstrated his interest in keeping his options 61  Cf. Chapter Two and Bárány, ‘Politics of Piroska’s Marriage’, esp. pp. 68–9. 62  JK, pp. 112–13. 63 Tuzson, Istvan II, p. 140. 64 Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 210; Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, pp. 90–1; Madgearu, Military Organization on the Danube, p. 150; see Map Four. 65 Makk, Árpáds and the Comneni, p. 28; this specifically critiques: Moravcsik, Byzantium and the Magyars, pp. 77, 79.

The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War  157 open should Hungary turn against him.66 She notes that as the war ended, Stephen’s successor was recognized as Álmos’ son Béla the Blind whom the empire must have felt would be a safe choice for maintaining good relations. Though it would be wrong without a stronger steer from our sources to assume that the empire had a hand in that recognition, it would at least have had to approve the choice due to John’s support of Béla’s father.67 My own view supports the interpretations of Makk and Papageorgiou, but additionally I would draw attention to the fact that had John been defeated much of the empire’s newly dominant position in the Balkans would have been lost. Though scholars have interpreted this as a ‘defensive’ campaign and therefore seen it as unimportant in the greater scheme of John’s reign, had John faltered the consequences for the empire in the Balkans could have been dire. Both Serb principalities may well have seceded, the southern bank of the Danube would have been lost to Hungary, and imperial power and prestige, not to mention the resources of men and materials for other enterprises, would have declined. Defeating Hungary was a necessity for the empire to find its place in the new order of the Balkans in the twelfth century, and rather than being uninterested, John actively sought a productive status quo to secure territories and trade with neighbouring powers in the region, with the empire remaining the senior player. After peace was made on the Danube in 1129, John could focus on the east with the knowledge that his borders were secure, his clients were loyal or at least cowed, and the reputation and strength of the empire as the regional hegemon had been restored. These years represent a combination of traditional small and medium scale operations in convincing neighbours and clients to stay obedient through punitive expeditions, while at the same time settling the area and acquiring greater resources to enforce a similar settlement in the more challenging the­ atre of operations in the east.68 It was not a foregone conclusion that the empire would regain its place as the leading power in the Balkans. John had to enforce his rule at the point of a sword for almost an entire decade before the settlement on the Danube could be reached, and it was a process that had started with the battle of Berroia. This victory set the tone that John and his government wished for the role of the empire in the new order of the Balkans: through the rhetorical works, his victories over these peoples are referenced in every poem as a prologue, and a foundation on which his next deeds would rest.69 In Prodromos’ epitaph on John’s tomb, second only to extending the empire across the Halys and defeating the 66 Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos, p. 21. 67  Ibid. Makk, Árpáds and the Comneni, p. 28. 68  Cf. previous chapter: Heather, ‘Client Management’, pp. 59, 68, and with thanks to Catherine Holmes who pointed out the similarity with the last years of Basil II’s reign, see: Holmes, Basil II, pp. 475–543. This section also highlights how many of the problems that John faced had been problems since Basil II had first absorbed the Balkans in the late tenth and early twelfth centuries. 69  Prodromos, II, line 46; Poem IV, line 53 and 224; Poem V, lines 25–7; IX, line 8; X, line 9; Poem XIV, line 18; Poem XVI, line 7; Poem XXV line 11; Poem XVIII, line 54; Poem XXIX, lines 8–9; Basilakes, ‘Λόγος εἰς τὸν ἀοίδιμον βασιλέα’, Orationes et Epistolae, pp. 51–2.

158  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 ‘Ismaelites’ is John’s defeat of the ‘Skythian Chimaera’, the ‘Dacians’ and the ‘Dalmatians’, and the way in which he became master of the Danube by land and sea, by the strength of Christ.70 From the sources, we can also see he was successful in that aim, as not until the next generation of Manuel and his contemporaries would the place of the empire in the Balkans be challenged again, and the ability of Manuel to retain and expand that role owed much to the foundations that John had laid. Specifically, it is notable, as mentioned above, that Radoslav, Gradinja’s successor as ruler of Diokleia, was named knez, prince, rather than rex, king, when Gradinja passed on in 1146, and this change must indicate some greater degree of integration into the empire, as a result of the success of John’s policies.71 Before turning, as John did in 1130, eastwards to Anatolia, a deeper examination of John’s fortresses and cities in the region will demonstrate fully both John’s strategic intentions in the region, and the realities of the empire at war, and at peace, on the ground in its Balkan provinces.

Control of the Balkan Frontier: Fortresses and Client Management John’s reign had seen a major change in the deployment of imperial resources in the Balkan provinces following the battle of Berroia. Whereas throughout the eleventh century there had been multiple garrisons and fortresses in the lower Danube to guard against the nomads, the focus was now on the middle Danube and the south of modern-­day Serbia. The Paristrion was treated as a nomad reservation, under imperial control through military bases on the Danube, but otherwise left to nomadic clients, and a similar strategy was used on the middle Danube, while the two Serb principalities were ruled through the king of Diokleia and the prince of Raška. Fortresses at Isaccea, Axiopolis, and the city of Dristra secured the lower Danube; after Berroia, the middle Danube was secured in a similar way through neighbouring fortresses and towns at Belgrade, Braničevo, and Ram. Further to the east, Serdica (modern Sofia) is located in a valley surrounded by mountains

70 ‘ἡ δυσμικὴ δὲ τῶν Γετῶν πανσπερμία, ἡ Σκυθικὴ χίμαιρα, τὸ ξύνθρουν γένος, ἐμῇ μαχαίρᾳ παγγενῆ διεφθάρη· σὺ γὰρ κατ᾽αὐτοῦ τοὐμὸν ἐστίλβους ξίφος. ἐμοῖς Δάκης ἔκαμψε ταρσοῖς αὐχένα, ἐμὴν ἀπειλὴν Δαλμάτης ὑπεστάλη. ἥπλωσεν Ἴστρος ὑπτιάσας τὴν ῥάχιν καὶ τοῖς ἐμοῖς πλώϊμος ὤφθη ναυμάχοις, καὶ τοῦτο, Χριστέ, σῆς παναλκοῦς ἰσχύος’, Prodromos, XXV, lines 35–43. 71  Priest, XLVI–­XLVII, pp. 79–80; Petrak, ‘The Byzantine Emperor in Medieval Dalmatian Exultets’, pp. 62–3.

The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War  159 on all sides in the centre of modern Bulgaria. Nothing remains of the imperial fortress of Serdica, but its location at the confluence of viable routes through the region made control of it essential for communications and logistics, as well as power projection, in this region south of the Danube. Belgrade, Braničevo, and Ram, however, all overlook the fertile floodplain of the Danube basin (cf. Fig. 7), and in addition to controlling the Danube and the northern end of the mountain valleys that lead to the south of modern-­day Serbia, the lands surrounding these fortresses were valuable, which made them targets for plunder by Stephen. In addition to the Danube, Braničevo overlooks the ruins of the classical and late antique city of Viminacium, which though partially excavated was mainly covered by farms when I visited in 2014. The likelihood of this fertile floodplain also being home to valuable villages and farming during the twelfth century is also high, suggesting why both John and Stephen considered this region valuable. This has been re-­emphasized by the recent archaeological work at Braničevo, as such an extensive city would have required rich hinterlands to support it, and the finds demonstrate the value of the settlement as a trading entrepôt.72 The fact that Ram was built just a short distance to the north of Braničevo along the Danube, in prime farming country, compounds the suggestion that this was a region John was very keen to safeguard, both because it was a natural border for the empire and for its produce. Equally the building of the fortress of Haram (which has so far gone unidentified as a site) on the northern bank of the

Figure 10  The rebuilt amphitheatre of Viminacium in the midst of modern farmland on the banks of the Danube. The city of Braničevo lies on the hill slightly to the west of here, cf. Fig. 7. 72  See ns. 579 and 580, above.

160  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 11  View of Ram and the Danube. Much of what remains is a later Ottoman rebuilding, but the plot of the fortress appears to have been consistent, and its location at the tip of an outlying rocky spur makes it very unlikely the Komnenian fortress would have been differently located.

Danube by the Hungarians demonstrates the interest that both Hungary and the empire had in this region, and why the battle took place in that location.73 Equally, the width of the Danube at this place makes it easy to see how John utilized the navy to great effect during this campaign. Belgrade itself is at the confluence of the Danube and Sava rivers as well as on the aforementioned military road that led across the Balkans to Constantinople. In modern times, Zemun, where Stephen built his counter-­fortress, is a suburb of Belgrade and during both the classical Roman period, and from the Ottomans until modernity, there has been a bridge between the two towns and the fort­ resses that guard them, as mentioned above. Consequently, this location was another extremely likely candidate for the site of the merchant troubles that are said to have presaged the Hungarian war, and thus was the natural location for Stephen to cross the Danube and plunder (see Fig. 6 for Belgrade castle). This is reinforced by the fact that Zemun market had been the site of a famous dispute during the First Crusade, where apparently an argument over a pair of shoes between crusaders and merchants had led to the Crusaders attacking the city and its castle, before fleeing across the river to Belgrade where they skirmished with Belgrade troops and apparently pillaged the city, allegedly involving the 73  Radičević believes that Haram can be identified with the fortress near the modern village of Dupljaja in the Serbian Banat, due to it matching the descriptions of Haram and being in the correct location north of the Danube, which based on the evidence appears likely. See: Radičević, ‘Fortifications on the Byzantine-­Hungarian Danube Border’, pp. 166–9.

The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War  161 death of 4,000 Hungarians and many Bulgarians too.74 This incident demonstrates that, like Braničevo, Belgrade-­Zemun was a major cosmopolitan centre for trade, and thus vital to imperial interests. It was rebuilt by John, hosted armies of the Second Crusade, and Manuel used it as a base of operations in the Balkans as well.75 Overall, despite the seeming geographical gap between imperial heartlands in Macedonia and Greece, and these locations on the Danube with client Serbs in between, the river and the military roads meant that these cities and fortresses were very much a part of the empire, and vital to its security and trade in the Balkans. In guarding the Danube, John was following ancient precedent in treating it as the empire’s ‘natural’ frontier for their Balkan provinces, a policy echoed by court rhetoric that often focused upon rivers as the boundaries of the empire.76 With the loss of much of Anatolia in the eleventh century, however, the wealth of the Danube had become much more important to imperial finances, as had security concerns. Control over the intervening lands was therefore essential; John had to produce a workable settlement with the Serbs, balancing the interests of Diokleia and Raška. Though Raška was inherently rebellious in this period, when imperial power was strong Uroš I did serve the emperor, and this was a model that was to continue into the reign of Manuel and beyond.77 This power was projected through a number of military installations throughout Raškan lands, such that even if the prince of Raška was administering the land, militarily the empire was in control. Popović has identified the fortresses of Zvečan, Jeleč, and Ras itself as imperial installations during the twelfth century in this region, providing a fortress network that (unlike the fortresses in the Paristrion) can be compared to that on the eastern frontier in Anatolia, providing the area with greater security through control of the lines of communication and logistics, as part of a strategy of defence in depth.78 Zvečan dominates the land around it, that is the modern breakaway region of north Kosovo, as well as overlooking the main crossing of the River Ibar (at its confluence with the River Sitnica) that separates the north from the rest of Kosovo, which when I visited in 2014 constituted the divided city of Mitrovica. The geography of Kosovo is that of a fertile plain almost entirely surrounded by mountains, with the exception of the river Ibar dividing the land to the north; this 74 From the account of Albert of Aachen, who wrote in c. 1120 based on eyewitness sources. A. Krey, The First Crusade: The Accounts of Eyewitnesses and Participants (Princeton, 1921), pp. 48–52. 75  Odo of Deuil, p. 30; JK, pp. 214, 240; NC, p. 127. 76  Prodromos, IV, line 53; Poem IXβ, line 8; Poem XVIII, line 54; Poem XV, lines 41 and 88; Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 52; Italikos 11 and 39, pp. 133 and 229. 77 Kosztolnyik, Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, pp. 236–8. And, indeed, before in the case of regional, ethnically distinct peoples, see J.-C.  Cheynet, ‘Official Power and Non-­official Power’, Fifty Years of Prosopography: The Later Roman Empire, Byzantium and Beyond, ed. A.  Cameron (Oxford, 2003), pp. 148–50. 78  Popović, ‘Les forteresses’, pp. 176–80; cf. Chapter Ten for the eastern frontier.

162  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 being so, control over the fortress of Zvečan and thus the crossing of the River Ibar safeguards the entire region from any threat from the north, in addition to guarding the southern end of the mountain passes leading to modern Serbia, Montenegro and Bulgaria, such that Popović labels its construction as the ideal frontier fortress. Although the masonry evokes that used under John, an earlier fortress may have existed on the site used by Alexios.79

Figure 12  View taken from the north of Zvečan, looking south, demonstrating how steep the hill is and therefore how defendable it is from that direction. This area is also only a small plain before the valley passes into Serbia guarded by Ras and Jeleč.

Figure 13  View of Zvečan from the south looking north, demonstrating it is still a worthy fortress from every side.

Ras, known in modern times as Stari Ras (Old Ras) is just to the southwest of the town of Raška itself and controls the northern end of the mountain passes, along with the River Raška that flows into the Ibar further north, and is sited on an equally impregnable spur site. Stari Ras is the only site that has been the 79  Ibid., p. 178; its use by Alexios is posited by Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 149.

The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War  163

Figure 14  Komnenian style cloisonné masonry at Zvečan.

subject of a major study.80 Popović posits that the fortress, rebuilt by John, was designed by an adept architect, with expert form to deflect siege weapons, and elements of fortification in tune with the natural landscape, but that it was built in haste with inadequately qualified workers as shown by the sloppy construction of the western gate in particular.81 He also notes the remains of log houses, and one building constructed of masonry with water resistant plaster in the cellar, which he suggests may be a granary as it is not a domed structure as a church would almost certainly be (though a cistern also seems likely).82 Twenty-­six coins of four different types date from John’s reign, and all come from the same layer that contains evidence of burning, quite plausibly from Juraj’s assault on the site when Kritoplos was commander, and John’s subsequent rebuilding.83 To the east of Ras, controlling the mountain valley away from the plain where the modern cities of Novi Pazar and Raška lie, on a very high location is the small fortress of Jeleč.84 Controlling this region would be essential for any empire asserting its authority as the valley is the only way to travel through the area. Even in 2014, this valley was very fertile, with farms all along it. Along the mountain pass north from Ras was the fortress of Studenica, which in the thirteenth century was to become the major monastic site for the new Serb kingdom. This too lies near the Ibar River and along the fertile valley through which any army would travel north. To this Popović adds the fortress of Brvenik, just to the south of Studenica along the Ibar, of which very little remains but from its location at the confluence of the Ibar and the River Raška, it would be the obvious site for a fortress as part of this network.85 These fortresses extended the frontier and are 80 Ibid. 81  Ibid., pp. 404–5. 82  Ibid., p. 405. 83  Ibid., pp. 429–30; coins: pp. 693–718; see figs. 3–4. 84  Popović, ‘Les forteresses’, p. 178. 85  Ibid., pp. 171–81.

164  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 15  The river valley leading from the modern cities of Raška and Novi Pazar south towards Jeleč, was steep and treacherous in 2014, and yet perhaps surprisingly fertile with many farms. Control of such a valley could be easily accomplished with the fortress of Jeleč, controlling both the villages and the narrow road.

Figure 16  This view of the valley surrounding Studenica Monastery demonstrates its control over the river valleys of Serbia. Though there is little direct evidence of Komnenian masonry, it most definitely fits the strategic pattern of where Alexios’ and John’s fortresses were sited, and its immediate use as a major site by the late twelfth century suggests some prior use, as Popović has suggested.

The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War  165 0 0

50 50

100 miles 100

150 km

H U N G A RY Battle of Haram

Zemun

N

Belgrade

Ram Morav a

R.

Ras

Jeleč

Diokleia

Brvenik

(ancient Roman Miltary Road)

Braničevo

Ravanica Bovan

Studenica

City Fortress John Fortress Via Militaris

Vidin Danube R.

Niš

Galić Zvečan Lipljan

Serdica

Map Five  John’s Balkan Fortress Network depicting the valleys defended by John and Alexios’ fortresses through the Serb lands, and how they relate to the imperial territory on the Danube.

forward of those used by Alexios, for example Lipjian, Skopje, Prizren, Ravanica, Strymon, Bovon, and Niš. In fact, John pushed forward the frontier in Anatolia in much the same way by extending Alexios’ previous network.86 From these fortresses it can be deduced that through fortress building John sought to physically anchor the empire to the landscape, projecting imperial power over the land through the valleys and along the rivers, and between these garrisons and Alexios Kontestephanos’ campaigning during Juraj’s insurrection, he was successful in keeping the Raškans as part of the empire without any more trouble until the reign of Manuel. Fortress building was an integral part of John’s policy in the Balkans, as it was in Anatolia and though building up client relations was important, control of land, people, and resources through these fortresses was the second most important part of this strategy. Stephenson has previously interpreted this network of fortresses as an internal frontier, and has the rulers of Diokleia and Raška acting autonomously throughout the twelfth century, even if they were ‘nominally subject to the emperor’s higher authority’ and were within the empire’s de iure ‘natural’ frontier of the Danube.87 86  Most are mentioned by Anna Komnene, with these and others having identifiable archaeological sites; full discussion of Alexios’ fortresses in Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, pp. 148–9. 87 Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 155.

166  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 He sees the crucial marks of this autonomy as the division between ‘themata and županias . . ./strategoi or doukes from župans’ and the ability to conduct an independent foreign policy, though he admits that they were still in the imperial sphere of influence as a ‘buffer of sorts between the empire and the world beyond’. Thus, the two principalities of twelfth-­century Serbia were imperial satellites rather than imperial clients in Stephenson’s view, a perspective which is e­ choed by Curta with his tacit acceptance of Ras and the other fortresses as being on the ‘border’.88 If acceptance of imperial rule and not acting contrary to im­per­ial interest was the sum of the Byzantine-­Diokleian and Byzantine-­Raškan relationship then I would be inclined to agree with Stephenson. However, there were other factors at play, which make the modern Serbian historiographical view of the region being at least ‘an equal factor in the empire’s internal and foreign politics’ a more accurate characterization.89 First, there was John’s relocation of the Tribaloi (almost certainly Raškans) to Nikomedeia, where they were given lands, and where, Choniates tells us, ‘[John] enrolled some in the army and the rest he made tributaries’.90 Though this may have required a military victory to enforce, the ability to enrol the Raškans into his army, and others to guard his frontier with the Danishmendids, demonstrates authority far stronger than merely ‘nominal.’ Furthermore, it was not only raw power that compelled the Raškans but legal agreements. We know from Kinnamos that when Manuel defeated Grand Prince Uroš II (1150–2), he promised not only his loyalty but also that: ‘should he [Manuel] campaign in the west, he [Uroš] agreed to attend him with two thousand men; for fighting in Asia, he would send two hundred men in addition to the previously customary three hundred’, and indeed the Serbs were called up and fought for Manuel in 1160.91 As this was the first conflict between Manuel and the Raškans during his reign, the agreement to supply three hundred men for campaigns in Asia must have originated with John, if not earlier, and possibly refers to the Serbs enrolled by John, and mentioned by Choniates. Though 300 men may seem a token submission, for one Serb prince to supply and outfit this number for campaign in Asia was a far from token undertaking, to say nothing of how many John may have arranged to attend him if he was in the Balkans (perhaps two thousand had already been agreed under John). This would be in addition to the Serbs who would come if the emperor called as part of the contingents from other princes, and so should certainly be seen as a significant contribution to John’s forces. Diokleian Serbs are specifically mentioned as being one of many peoples giving homage to Empress Eirene at the 88  Ibid.; Curta, Southeastern Europe, p. 328; Fine relates the events rather than analysing the exact settlement John was attempting to reach in the region. 89  Pirivatrić, ‘The Dynamics of Byzantine Serbian Political Relations’, p. 21. 90  NC, p. 16. 91  Italics added by me for emphasis. JK, pp. 113 and 199; tr. pp. 90 and 151.

The Raškan Insurrection and the Hungarian War  167 coronation of co-­emperor Alexios in 1119, though whether their presence was physical or merely rhetorical is an open question (though it is likely there was a similar customary military obligation).92 As for the idea of Raškan autonomous foreign policy, the key piece of evidence here is the marriage between Jelena (also called Helena, Ilona and Elena) daughter of Uroš I, and king Stephen II of Hungary’s heir, the future Béla II, known as ‘the blind’.93 As mentioned above, this marriage occurred in 1129 as a Hungarian initiative that places the marriage in the very specific context of Uroš being already in rebellion and Stephen wishing an alliance; thus this has less to do with Raškan external relations, and everything to do with Byzantine-­Hungarian relations. Therefore, the idea held by Stephenson that the Hungarian-­Raškan alliance implies Raškan (or indeed ‘Serbian’) quasi-­ independence does not stand up under examination of the evidence from the reigns of John and Manuel. Raška and Diokleia were client states of the empire, albeit the former was a rebellious one that under the stresses of Alexios’ reign or at opportunistic moments during John’s and Manuel’s reigns would make a bid for greater autonomy. Regardless, they were both clients which, by the projection of imperial power through fortresses across their land, treaties, and frequent acknowledgement of their rulers, were subject to Byzantium. Although Diokleia appears to have received no similar fortifications in this period, the fortresses used in the previous century may well have still been gar­ risoned.94 Indeed, two churches were built at Dyrrachium in this period, which may indicate that this province was developing from the militarized zone it had been in the eleventh century when under threat by Bodin and the Normans, into a safe imperial province, with a more reliable and loyal Diokleia to the north under Gradinja.95 Such an analysis is reinforced by the sigillographic evidence from John’s reign, and it can be deduced that John’s policies to the north allowed business as usual for the regional nobility and clergy in the western imperial provinces.96 This created stability and prosperity for the Balkans for the rest of his reign, and allowed the emperor to focus on the east from that time onwards.

92 ‘σοὶ Διοκλέων καὶ Δακῶν ἔθνη δορυφοροῦσι’, Prodromos, I, line 90. See Chapter Ten for discussion of the Komnenian military. 93  SRH I (1937), pp. 442–3; Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 155; Curta, Southeastern Europe, p. 328; Fine, Early Medieval Balkans, p. 236; Kosztolnyik, Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, p. 108. 94 Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 164. 95 Ibid. 96  Further discussion to follow in Chapter Ten, but it is based upon Jordanov’s corpus of Bulgarian seals with Seibt’s corrections with backing from DO and A Collection of Dated Byzantine Lead Seals, ed. N. Oikonomides (Washington, DC, 1986); Jordanov, Corpus I and II, pp. 63–4, 154–83, 214–25; W. Seibt, ‘Ivan Jordanov, Corpus of Byzantine Seals from Bulgaria vol. 1 (Sofia, 2003), Review’, BZ 97 (2005), pp. 129–33; W.  Seibt, ‘Ivan Jordanov, Corpus of Byzantine Seals from Bulgaria vol. 2 (Sofia, 2006), Review’, BZ 100 (2008), pp. 819–24.

168  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

The Way the West Was Won By the end of the first decade of John’s rule, he had snatched a victory from the jaws of defeat by settling his western provinces sufficiently that he did not return to them again during his reign. He had preserved and strengthened the territories that he had inherited, and he had completed his father’s work in settling the nomadic tribes within his lands. John had brought the two Serb clients and the southern Dalmatian cities back under his aegis, and he had proved to Hungary that Byzantium was still the dominant power in the region. Though not commented on overly in the sources, it should also be recognized that this was the first time that a Roman army had campaigned north of the Danube in many years, which in itself testified to a return of Roman power. It had not been bloodless or painless by any means: seven years of continuous wars in the Balkans, allowing a rebellion to continue in Trebizond under Gabras, while leaving the other polities of Anatolia to their own devices, making peace with the Venetians on less-­than-­ideal terms. However, despite these setbacks, the navy had now been reorganized to be more effective, and divisions of both nomadic and Serb troops had been added to the army, and so as the 1130s began John could look to the east, festooned with his cognomens ex virtute of ‘Skythian-­ Bane,’ and ‘Kalo Ioannis’: ‘John the Good,’ used for the first time in 1126 and again in 1127 in the Neapolitan archives.97 His reputation, and the reach of imperial power, appeared to ride high despite the setbacks of 1126. For the first time since 1125, he was free to act not only against Gabras but also against those who had changed the shape of the eleventh-­century empire: the Turks of Anatolia. Little did the emperor know that his over-­ambition would be matched by one of those closest to him, changing John’s plans entirely.

97  Regii neapolitani archive VI (1858), no. 596 and 600. There is also the possibility of ‘Cumanos’, once again only on the provision that this was not a corruption of ‘Komnenos’.

200 300

600 km

Constantinople

Rhyn da

Lopadion

Gangra

Sangarios R.

Ankyra

Trebizond Constantine Gabras

Neakaisareia ly Ha

Lykos R.

. sR

DA

NI

Gh

s R. ko

azi

Kotyaion Amorion

Philadelphia

Sea

Ephesus

Laodikeia

Melitene (Tughrul Arslan)

Philomelion

Ikonion

Sozopolis .

Lake Pousgouse

OF RUM S U LTA N AT E Mas’ud

C ou L oIs I R Korykos I C or Seleukeia

Mediterranean

Sea

s

Anazarbos

s

I Ap e n

Attaleia

Map Six  Anatolia, c.1130.

IDS

e rat ph Eu

nd e r R Maea

M

R.

Smyrna

SH

II G END üm üsh tigi n

o

Aegean

N

Kastamon

Nikomedeia Nicaea

Sea

Orontes R .

0

Black

400 miles

La m

0

Constantinople Major City City City of John Fortress Fortress of john

Seven Betrayal and Conquest in Anatolia John had finally returned to Anatolia after most of a decade’s absence. His first campaigns here had seen him take up his father’s struggle to retake the west, and in doing so he proved himself as a worthy successor. Just as then, John’s Anatolian campaigns were now driven as much by domestic politics as foreign interests. Only when all was well in Constantinople were conquests attempted according to what could unequivocally be seen as the best interests of the empire. Accordingly, John choices in this period were shaped by the actions of traitors to his cause: delaying, disrupting, and forcing evolution on any strategy he might wish to pur­ sue in Anatolia. This relates to the second key dynamic of Anatolia in this period: that John was but one of many actors on the political stage, and that no one remained station­ ary. Scholars’ reliance on Kinnamos and Choniates for their narrative histories has hindered as much as benefitted study of the 1130s as their accounts focus on John and exclude his contemporaries, giving the impression that he was the prime mover. However, read in the light of the contemporary rhetorical court sources, as well as the account of Michael the Syrian, and viewed in the context of arch­ aeo­logic­al evidence, John’s actions take on new meanings, and it is evident he was far from the only protagonist in the region. After reviewing what had occurred in Anatolia since John had last campaigned there, we will address how John’s initial plans were immediately changed by betrayal at home. Confusions as to how many campaigns there were will be cleared up, and details as to the nature of these cam­ paigns prised out. With this new picture, historiographical interpretations as to why John acted in these ways can be reassessed. This reappraisal will follow later in the remaining chapters in this volume, as the central question as to the reasons for and the worth of John’s campaigning in Anatolia and further east can be ana­ lysed only once his campaigning has been presented in its entirety.

Anatolia in the 1120s: The Rise of Ghazi Danishmend While John focused on the Balkans after his overreach in 1125/6, his erstwhile prospective Anatolian client, Mas’ud of Ikonion, had gone looking for a new backer against his usurping brother. Michael the Syrian tells us that he found that backer by renewing his 1117 alliance with Ghazi II Danishmend. Since his conquest of Melitene from Mas’ud’s brother Tughrul in the early 1120s, Ghazi had attempted Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143. Maximilian C. G. Lau, Oxford University Press. © Maximilian C. G. Lau 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198888673.003.0008

Betrayal and Conquest in Anatolia  171 to consolidate his hold on eastern Anatolia, and by 1127 he was the target of a coalition, notably including Mas’ud’s brother Arab as well as the Prince Thoros Roupen of the Cilician Armenians.1 Thoros and Arab’s alliance was initially quite successful against Ghazi and Mas’ud. They captured Ghazi’s son Mohammed and an apparently important emir named Yunas in battles in northern Anatolia, the location of which in itself demonstrates either the extent of their support across central Anatolia, or their success in advancing that far north from Cilicia and Ikonion. Though Ghazi was able to free his son after taking Ankyra, Arab then captured Ghazi’s other son Yagan, which prolonged the conflict still further. Only suffering two defeats forced Arab to concede to Ghazi and Mas’ud, at which point he either was killed or himself took refuge in Constantinople in 1129 where he died (Michael the Syrian relates both possible deaths at different points in his narrative).2 Despite Ghazi and Mas’ud’s eventual success, this conflict had also allowed Mas’ud’s brother Tughrul to retake Melitene and re-­emerge as a threat to Ghazi’s eastern territories. In the same section of his narrative, Michael remarks that there were a great number of Turks who found refuge with the Christians at that time, though whether this refers to the empire, Armenian Cilicia, Georgia, or merely regional rulers is difficult to say.3 Either way, these refugees appear to be a symptom of the instability caused by Ghazi in his attempt to gain hegemony over the region. John’s focus was entirely on the Balkans. If he knew of these develop­ ments, he was in no position to act on them, and these events go unrelated in the Greek sources. The overall picture presented by Michael, who would have been a child in Melitene when these events occurred, is one of continuous warfare as Ghazi and the competing sons of Kilij-­Arslan fought over Anatolia. Meanwhile, out­ side the protection of the empire, Gabras of Trebizond became one more of these competing ‘emirs’, isolated as he was in Chaldia. In 1129, Michael tells us that Ghazi began annexing fortresses on the Pontic coast that were under the control of a certain ‘Kasianos’, though in what capacity is not clear.4 Kasianos may have defected along with Gabras, or remained loyal to John, or he could even have been an independent rebel who finally went over to the Danishmendids. This was followed by a turn eastwards as Ghazi took advantage of the death of Prince Thoros to occupy the mountain passes into Armenian Cilicia, and

1  Mich. Syr. 16.2, p. 608; tr. p. 223. 2  Ibid., pp. 223–4. 3  Ibid., pp. 224–5. 4  Mich. Syr. 16.3, p. 610; tr. p. 227; Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 81; The Kassianoi were a major family in the region, and a later member did indeed join the Turks in the fourteenth century, though that probably has no bearing on his ancestor’s loyalty or lack thereof. His exact status is unfortunately unknown, which is likely a product of the chaos of the time, or Michael’s own lack of knowledge of events that occurred in his childhood. Treadgold also posits that Kassianos was doux of Armeniakon and revolted with Gabras. See Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 128; Treadgold, State and Society, pp. 630–1; S. Kyriakidis, ‘The Revolt of General Kassianos in Mesothynia (1306)’, Byzantion Nea Hellas 33 (2014), pp. 165–80.

172  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 having done so to retake Melitene from Tughrul once more.5 Fresh from this success, Ghazi finally appears in Latin, Armenian and Arabic sources as an opponent to Bohemond II of Antioch in Cilicia, who himself was taking advan­ tage of the death of Thoros to extend the principality of Antioch’s dominion north in 1129–30.6 Ghazi’s intervention had come at the request of the new prince, Leon Roupen, though what Leon promised in exchange for this aid is unknown and probably inconsequential, given his later penchant for breaking promises.7 John likely had little influence over any of these events, though he may have continued to subsidize Mas’ud throughout this period to keep the war going in Anatolia while he was occupied in the west.8 Regardless, by 1130 Ghazi was coming close to achieving hegemony over all of Anatolia east of the frontier John had established in 1121, though warfare continued between Ghazi and his rivals: Bohemond of Antioch, Gabras of Trebizond and Tughrul of Melitene, whom he was on the brink of defeating if Michael is to be believed. John concluded affairs in the Balkans just in time to prevent a unified Danishmendid Anatolia, though he could hope that Mas’ud might switch sides again to prevent Ikonion becoming subsumed by the Danishmendids. Chalandon’s original analysis was that John entered into an anarchic situation in Anatolia in 1130 in order to take advantage of the quarrels between emirs; this was to a cer­ tain extent true, but it was also an anarchic situation that was on the brink of becoming a Danishmendid dominion, a new polity that could seriously threaten imperial frontiers in Anatolia if John did not intervene.9 With this political situation in 1130, we can see that John had three major issues to deal with in Anatolia: the rising power of Ghazi Danishmend, the rebellion of Gabras of Trebizond, and the reintegration of Mas’ud of Ikonion as a client ruler. John’s options were either to make a show of strength towards Ikonion, in a similar way to his bringing of Serb clients back under imperial aegis, or to cam­ paign against Danishmendid-­held Paphlagonia, the central-­northern Anatolian region. Though the Paphlagonian option would advance John’s interests against both Ghazi and Gabras, and it came with the benefit of potential maritime lo­gis­ tic­al support, the Ikonion option would add another client and troops to John’s forces, and it would thus make a future Paphlagonian invasion easier. An invasion of Paphlagonia first would see John pit his army against the more difficult foe, rather than pick off the potentially easier targets first. On the other hand, the moment was opportune, since in 1130 Ghazi was occupied with Bohemond and .

5 Ibid. 6 Ibid.; William of Tyre, 13.10, p. 597, 13.28, pp. 623–5; Ibn al-­Athir, p. 279; Orderic Vitalis, Ecclesiastical History, pp. 134–6. 7  See Chapter Seven. 8 Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 80. 9 Ibid.

Betrayal and Conquest in Anatolia  173 Tughrul far to the south-­east, meaning that his forces were a long way from both Mas’ud and Paphlagonia. Michael only tells us that in the same year as the death of Bohemond of Antioch (February 1130), John built a town on the coast and prepared to move against ‘the Turks’, an identification that could still refer to either target.10 Kinnamos and Choniates generate much confusion as to the chron­ology of the following campaigns, but Michael’s text reconciles their often contradictory accounts.11 From 1130 to 1135, Choniates mentions two distinct campaigns, though one is described in two parts separated by a winter and so one could arguably speak of three campaigns; Kinnamos is unclear but implies either two or three, while Michael the Syrian mentions five separate campaigns, with three in Paphlagonia.12 Michael’s five-­campaign schema is the only one that eliminates lacunae in John’s reign. Without Michael’s account there appear to be whole years in the 1130s in which John did nothing noted down by anyone; considering John’s unflagging energy in the prosecution of his campaigns for the rest of his reign, often attested by Prodromos, a hypyothesis of inaction seems very unlikely.13 This would once more fit the pattern established in Choniates’ and Kinnamos’ accounts of the Balkan wars, whereby they exclude campaigns not relevant to their major narra­ tive goals. Michael’s scheme also provides reasons for each campaign that find corroboration in Prodromos’ contemporary works, unlike Kinnamos and Choniates. They, along with Prodromos, should therefore be read as companions to Michael, elaborating on some of the campaigns he outlines, rather than as the main guides to these campaigns.14 Thus, taking these factors into account, a new chronology can be established, and it reveals campaigns shaped by betrayals. The first was Gabras’ rebellion, but the second must have rocked John’s regime: his trusted brother and co-­emperor in all but name: Sebastokrator Isaac Komnenos Porphyrogennitos had plotted against him.

10  Mich. Syr. 16.4, p. 612; tr. p. 230; William of Tyre, 13.27, pp. 623–5. This is perhaps a reference to Lopadion, cf. Chapter 10. 11  The use of Michael the Syrian in clearing up these chronological issues has been recently recog­ nized in Magdalino, ‘The Triumph of 1133’, pp. 63–4. 12 Chalandon supports this view, whereby Michael is essentially correct and Prodromos, Kinnamos, and Choniates provide more information on those campaigns in accordance with their own narrative paradigms. NC, p. 82; tr. p. 344; JK, p. 13; Mich. Syr. 16.4–5, pp. 612–14; tr. pp. 230–5. Prodromos’ court poems describe the campaigns in more detail than any of these other narratives, but do not allow for a particular number of specific campaigns to be identified, although a figure of at least three is implied. 13  Examples include Prodromos, XVI, lines 38 and 65, in addition to occasions when Prodromos begs the emperor to follow a victory with stay in Constantinople so he may acclaim his achievements, advice seemingly never followed: Prodromos, IXγ lines 11 and 16; Xγ line 17; XI, line 219. 14  His chronology also has the benefit of fitting the archaeological evidence, cf. Chapter Eight.

174  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

The Treachery of Isaac Isaac’s betrayal goes completely unmentioned by Kinnamos, while Choniates only relates it in the context of Isaac’s second exile in 1139, but we are given a secure date of 1130 in a poem by Prodromos datable to 1138.15 Only Michael the Syrian provides us with details as to what occurred: John, having set out to march against the Turks, learned that his brother had sought to conspire with other lords against him: he immediately turned his army around, causing Isaac and his son to flee from Constantinople as they did not have enough support to hold the city against John.16 Isaac’s betrayal in 1130 may have been prompted by two prox­im­ ate causes: first, the death of their brother Andronikos in Anatolia, which would surely have put personal strain on them both, and second, the coming of age of young Basileus Alexios, who was now twenty-­two years old.17 Though we cannot hypothesize much on what effect Andronikos’ death had upon their personal relationship, we might assume that as he is referred to as both John’s counsellor and Anna’s favourite brother, he may well have played a peacemaker role in family disputes. We can theorize more precisely as to the effect of the coming of age of Alexios, and John’s other sons, the sebastokratores. With these men now grown and associ­ ated with John’s victories, Isaac may well have seen himself consigned to at least third, or even fifth position for the first time. Since 1125 Isaac had had the capital to himself, but with John’s and the campaigning court’s return from the Balkans he would suddenly have felt himself overshadowed by his brother and nephew, who along with most of the court would have had numerous war stories and con­ versations about the last few years that could have left him feeling excluded and relegated. Equally, any of the elite returning from campaign who was dissatisfied with John’s conduct, such as the humiliated garrison commanders, would have had the opportunity to talk to Isaac for the first time. Thus, it was only in 1129/30, when John had left the Balkans, that Isaac would have really felt deprived of power. This was caused by John’s return and the age of the young co-­emperor

15 For further discussion of Isaac’s betrayal, see: M.  Lau, ‘Isaakios in Exile. Down and Out in Constantinople and Jerusalem?’, Isaakios Komnenos, ed. V. Lovato (Abingdon, forthcoming). NC, p. 32; tr. p. 19; Isaac’s exile has previously been misdated to between 1122 and 1123 in the major bio­graph­ ic­al study on him and his monastery of the Kosmoteira by Sinos. The death of Empress Piroska-­Eirene, dated to 1123, is used by Sinos as a terminus ante quem. But with the death of Piroska-­Eirene in fact occurring in 1134 (see below), and a poem by Prodromos (II) on Andronikos’ death which appears to reference Isaac’s continued presence in the capital, 1130 is the only possible date, and the political events surrounding it reinforce that chronology: Prodromos, II, lines 13–29, and XLII; S. Sinos, Die Klosterkirche der Kosmosoteira in Bera (Vira) (Munich, 1985), p. 9 n. 24; ‘Kosmosoteira: Typikon of the Sebastokrator Isaac Komnenos for the Monastery of the Mother of God Kosmosoteira near Bera’, tr: N. Ševčenko, Byzantine Monastic Foundation Documents, ed. J. Thomas, A. Hero and G. Constable (Washington, DC, 2001), p. 782. 16  Mich. Syr. 16.4, p. 612; tr. p. 230. 17  Prodromos, II; Alexios was born in 1108: AK, 13.7, p. 403.

Betrayal and Conquest in Anatolia  175 Alexios and his siblings. Equally, at this time Isaac was given the opportunity to plot with any who might consider resisting John. These cannot have been signifi­ cant figures, as none are mentioned going into exile with Isaac, but regardless, John spent just over a year in Constantinople after this event to reconfirm his position. Michael tells us he put Constantinople back in good order in this time, and though he does not give us an exact date, he does indicate that John next campaigned after the death of Joscelin I of Edessa. This occurred in the winter of 1131 while Joscelin was forcing Ghazi to retreat from his siege of the fortress of Keysun in the county of Edessa. Thus, John’s next campaign can be dated to spring 1132, though neither he nor Isaac was idle in the meantime.18 Isaac fled directly to Ghazi Danishmend, spending the winter in Melitene with Mas’ud as well (an event Michael could well have personally remembered, as he would have been between eight and twelve years old at the time). There, Isaac supposedly also treated with Gabras to convince him to support his claim to the throne, while Ghazi himself is mentioned as receiving tribute from Leon of Cilicia. This must have involved some deal with Isaac too, as we are told Isaac’s son (also called John) was married to a daughter of Leon, receiving both Mopsuestia and Adana as a dowry.19 Thus, Isaac threatened John with a potential coalition of Ghazi, Mas’ud, Gabras, and Leon. John was, therefore, far from the only political actor playing rulers off against internal rivals for gain. The situation was also con­ stantly evolving: the alliance between Isaac and Leon (and by implication, their children’s marriage if it occurred) did not last very long, as the two supposedly quarrelled and Isaac fled to Mas’ud in Ikonion, though unfortunately Michael does not provide us with a date for this quarrel.20 As much as John may have wished to pursue Isaac into Anatolia immediately, he prudently decided to secure his home front first. His authority in Constantinople needed to be re-­established. John completed the major part of the Pantokrator monastic complex, discussed in Chapter Eleven, and began to commission the court rhetors, Prodromos, Italikos and Basilakes. These rhetors would communi­ cate the regime’s messages to the capital as frequently as possible, and their works were often accompanied by dramatic ceremonies and spectacles. It is no coinci­ dence that only after 1130 do we have this material, or that John organized his great triumph of 1133 as he did: they were in response to Isaac’s treachery, to make the emperor’s presence and authority felt in the capital even if he remained on campaign.21 Similarly, it is likely at this time that John arranged various mar­ riages between his kin and other elites: his children were all now of age, and appear to all have married by the time of the composition of the Pantokrator

18  Ibid., p. 232; William of Tyre, 14 3.1–32. 19  Mich. Syr. 16.5, p. 614; tr. p. 232. 20  Ibid., The terminus ante quem would be 1136, when Isaac was in the Holy Land. Prodromos, XL. 21  Also suggested by Magdalino, ‘The Triumph of 1133’, p. 63.

176  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 typikon in 1136.22 Since John had been on campaign throughout the 1120s, and resumed campaigning from 1132 onwards, the intervening years appear to have been the obvious time for him to have made these arrangements, and it was in the wake of Isaac’s betrayal that John most needed the reassurance of broad support. Once he had settled affairs in Constantinople, John set out once more for Anatolia, his targets and strategy forced on him by his brother’s betrayal. When reading Choniates, Kinnamos, and the rhetorical works of Prodromos, it would seem that the Paphlagonian campaigns were always the grand plan after the west was settled. Bishop Eustathios of Thessalonike’s poetic likening of the Komnenian emperors to waves crashing against the Turks has been fairly fixed in the historio­ graphical tradition from the Byzantines themselves onwards, as if such was always John’s plan.23 The incorporation of Mas’ud as an imperial client would perhaps have been a more measured step: this would turn one of Ghazi’s supporters into one of John’s, and it would continue John’s previous strategy of the cumulative acquisition of clients. If not that, then ending the rebellion of Gabras would have made the most sense, as every month that rebellion continued was a challenge to John’s authority as Roman emperor, and John’s army could well have travelled by ship to Chaldia. Yet he did none of these things: instead, Choniates and Kinnamos relate that he campaigned to take Kastamon from the Danishmendids, following Isaac. This led Bishop Eustathios of Thessalonike to make his later analogy of the three waves, and from it derives Birkenmeier’s interpretation of John’s grand strategy for Anatolia, as one based upon the capture of fortified points, taking the coast first then moving inland. This is despite the fact that the campaign to seize Kastamon appears the least beneficial of options, gaining John the enmity of Ghazi, now ruler of the most powerful polity in Anatolia, without first defeating lesser enemies. This choice only makes sense if John’s primary goal was to neu­ tralize the threat that Isaac posed with Ghazi’s backing. Ghazi’s forces may well also have already started offensives against the imperial frontiers, as Kinnamos tells us that John attacked Kastamon because: ‘the Turks who dwelt there used to raid the adjacent area, which was subject to the emperor, and continually mal­ treated the Romans there’, though we cannot know whether these Turks were under the command of Ghazi, or whether this was a generic pretext Kinnamos applied to the opening of hostilities in this region.24 Such a statement depicts the war as the Romans against the Turks, while the reality was far from clear-­cut, as John had to suspect that Ghazi’s forces were operating as a proxy for Isaac, whether such was actually the case or not. John had to confront the main power 22  For John’s daughters and their husbands, see Varzos, Genealogia, nos. 74–81. Although, as we have seen, John’s daughter Anna married Stephanos Kontestephanos in 1125, the typikon denotes a terminus ante quem for the marriage of John’s eldest daughter Maria to the later kaisar John Rogerios Dalassenos, son of the Norman defector, the marriage of Eudokia to sebastohypertatos Theodore Vatatzes, whose descendants would become emperors in the thirteenth century, and of Theodora to the general and advisor Manuel Anemas. 23 Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 124–5; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, p. 49. 24  JK, p. 13; tr. p. 20.

Betrayal and Conquest in Anatolia  177 of Anatolia head on, and at the very least demonstrate why it was foolish to back Isaac. With Mas’ud also linked to Ghazi and Isaac he could not be trusted, and so taking Paphlagonia, and thence opening the way by land to Gabras too, was John’s only choice if he was to remove the existential threat to his rule posed by Isaac.

The First Paphlagonian Campaign of 1132 The nature of Paphlagonia as a province under Turkish occupation is unclear, but it appears to have gone from being a wild, lawless country in the late eleventh century to one that was more clearly under the control of the Danishmendids, used by them as a base for raiding the empire. Kastamon had been the family seat of the Komnenoi in Anatolia, the place where Isaac I Komnenos, Alexios I’s uncle, was acclaimed emperor by his troops in 1057.25 Nikephoros Bryennios’ History describes a visit by Alexios in 1075, painting a picture of him bursting into tears at the memory of his parents while wandering the deserted halls away from his escort, in danger of falling victim to a Turkish ambush had his companions not re-­joined him.26 Though Kastamon had been lost by 1075, Bryennios’ account mentions that noble estates nearby, such as that of Dokeianos, were still inhabited and secure.27 From this time, however, the region destabilized, with Albert of Aachen recording a massacre of foragers from the Crusade of Merzifon by Turks near ‘civitas Constamnes’ in 1101, which James Crow has identified as Kastamon.28 There is the possibility that some of this territory may have been under the con­ trol of the Kassianos mentioned above, though whether he had joined Ghazi’s rebellion or stayed loyal to John, Ghazi’s assaults had brought most of this region under his control by 1130.29 Whittow demonstrated that before the eleventh-­century Turkish incursions, ‘Byzantium did not have a militarised aristocracy based in the provinces’, and that resistance against the Turks ‘required . . ./above all a de­ter­min­ ation not to let any ground go by default’.30 This previously wild borderland of Alexios’ reign had been ceded ‘by default’ to the Turks in the early 1100s, and so as hostilities opened between Ghazi and John, the raids mentioned by Kinnamos would have been almost certainly launched from Kastamon. This was the most important defensible site in the region, well placed both for John’s territories and for receiving reinforcements from the rest of Danishmendid territory.31 25 Michael Attaleiates, Historia, ed. I Bekker (Bonn, 1856), pp. 59–70; tr. Michael Attaleiates, Miguel Ataliades: Historia, ed. I. P. Martin (Madrid, 2002), pp. 46–53. 26  Nikephoros Bryennios, Histoire, ed. and tr. P. Gautier (Brussels, 1975), pp. 196–7. 27  Ibid., pp. 194–5. 28  Albert of Aachen, pp. 600–1; J. Crow, ‘Alexios I and Kastamon: Castle and Settlement in Middle Byzantine Paphlagonia’, Alexios I Komnenos-­Papers, p. 16. 29  See above, and some discussion at the end of this chapter regarding the identification of some or all of this region as the Armeniakon theme in this period. More in Chapter Ten. 30  M. Whittow, ‘How the East was Lost: The Background to the Komnenian Reconquista’, Alexios I Komnenos-­Papers, ed. M. Mullett and D. Smythe (Belfast, 1996), p. 66. 31  Cf. Chapter Eight, Kastamon.

178  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 17  Kastamon Fortress 2013. Little remains of the original Byzantine fortress, but the Ottoman fort sits upon its foundations in what is still an imposing defensive position, above a river with fertile lands below.

The capture of Kastamon would therefore prevent raids on imperial lands, as well as provide an easily defendable bastion from which John could protect territory in Paphlagonia and launch further strikes against the Danishmendids. The narrative histories of Choniates and Kinnamos are fairly brief in their accounts of the campaign, instead focusing on John’s triumph in Constantinople that followed it in 1133. Niketas Choniates relates that: [John] marched through the provinces of Bithynia and Paphlagonia and appeared before the city. Throwing up many scaling ladders and surrounding it with siege engines, he took Kastamon. The Persarmenian [Danishmendid] satrap despaired of the situation and fled. After taking captive no small number of Turks, John returned to Byzantion.32

While Kinnamos, aside from providing the casus belli with his description of Turkish raids, only tells us that: the emperor marched to Asia, hastening to take the city of Kastamon which is adjacent to Paphlagonia . . ./Stunning them by the magnitude of his preparation for war, he constrained them to yield the city and themselves to the Romans.33

32  NC, p. 18; tr. p. 12.

33  JK, p. 13; tr. p. 20.

Betrayal and Conquest in Anatolia  179 Reading these lines, we can easily see how some have considered John’s modus operandi in Anatolia as one entirely based around sieges, since this seems to be a clear-­cut example of the emperor gathering overwhelming force, taking the strong point, and then returning home, mission accomplished, having pushed forward the frontiers of the empire and eliminated a base for raiders. On the other hand, one might argue that such ‘conquests’ were rather more illusory than reality, with these islands of imperial control in a Turkish landscape not appear­ ing to have established any sort of a firm return to order, an impression we gain from sources such as Odo of Deuil’s account of the passage of the Second Crusade.34 However, if we take into account Prodromos’ poems, containing more than 400 lines of additional information over two poems, in addition to two further poems on the triumph that followed the campaign, much more can be deduced regarding the capture of Kastamon and Paphlagonia as a province. Therefore, on the basis of his poetry, a siege-­based interpretation of the campaign should be modified, and Odo’s later account, doubted.35 The first Kastamon poem is written in a highly archaic and formalized style of Greek, which would have been understood by only the most educated of the Constantinopolitan elite. It is likely to have been delivered to the court who would have taken the salient points from it, or to the intelligentsia who would have understood the literary production in full.36 In this contemporary, official account, Prodromos focuses on the heroics needed for the capture of Kastamon and its high citadel, and the emperor’s personal qualities as the God-­chosen ‘Stemmer of Battle’ (a Homeric epithet). He also expands on what is preserved in the later his­ tories by describing the Turkish raiders: ‘running as wolves, hastily through dense thickets and woods, going after the flock, which having wandered off from its pen looks if it can find a place to hide from the ravenous wolves.’37 This paints an evocative picture of the insecurity of the population: the Christians under con­ stant threat from the Turkish ‘wolves’, and, thus the relief the emperor could bring them through the conquest of Kastamon. As well as the details of the sur­ render of the Turks, who opened the gates and then begged the emperor to spare their lives while he was fully armed on his horse, which corroborates 34  Odo of Deuil, passim in Anatolia, but as one example there is the description of the territory around Laodikeia, pp. 1113–14. 35  These poems are fully explored in Lau, ‘The Power of Poetry’, pp. 195–214. See also: Prodromos, IV with discussion in: R. Shlyakhtin, ‘Master of Kastamon, Emperor of Eternity Ioannes Komnenos as Border-­maker and Border-­breaker in Theodoros Prodromos’ Poem “On the advance to Kastamon” ’, From Constantinople to the Frontier: The City and the Cities, ed. N.  Matheou, T.  Kampianaki and M. Bondioli (Leiden, 2016), pp. 425–34. 36  Cf. Chapters One and Ten. 37 ‘ἀλεξητῆρα . . ./οἱ δὲ λύκοι ὥς Πέρσαι ἀνατροχόωντο διὰ δρυμὰ πυκνὰ καὶ ὕλην ποίμνιον ἀμφαφόωντες, ὅ ῥ᾽ἐκ σηκοῖο λιασθὲν δίζεται εἴ τιν᾽ἴδοιτο λύκων ἀγρίων ἀλεωρήν’, Prodromos, III, lines 12–13; further discussion of this literary image as an ‘image of the other’ is to be found in A. Papageorgiou, ‘Οἱ δὲ λύκοι ὡς Πέρσαι: The image of the ‘Turks’ in the reign of John II Komnenos (1118–1143)’, Byzantinoslavica 69 (2011), pp. 149–61.

180  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Choniates and Kinnamos’ assertion that John had brought such overwhelming forces that Kastamon had no hope of holding out, Prodromos also mentions that two fortresses named Alamos and Alazos had been taken.38 This part of the poem is dedicated to showing the emperor hunting the Turks through the countryside and driving them across the River Halys. This done, the army follows the dis­per­ sing Turks across the river and then plunders goods and takes prisoners before conquering Balza on its return to Byzantine territory.39 The poem is short at under 200 lines, and though the usual imperial praises are made, and there is some focus on the world being ripe for imperial expansion, it is fairly to the point as an account of the campaign despite its high style, lending it the air of an official court presentation of events.40 The second poem is twice as long and is more complex. It is formally divided into dekastichs (stanzas of ten lines), and from the title we can see it was written for the demes to sing in political verse, and thus would have been sung by two or more choirs in a location such as the hippodrome or Hagia Sophia, possibly as part of the 1133 triumph.41 Evidence for this can be found in many places in the poem, including the lists of the different social strata present: Councillors and Senate . . ./ monks . . ./ scholars . . ./ soldiers . . ./ artisans . . ./ foreigners.42

In addition to numerous other references to chanting or singing, and the descrip­ tion of the triumph and ceremony that would have been occurring while this poem was sung, the many references to the emperor as the Sun evoke facets of the later Byzantine ceremony of prokypsis and its emphasis on the ceremonial appear­ ance of the emperor as light, demonstrates an evolution from the trad­ition­al kathisma ceremony.43 This imagery is taken further by the stanzas devoted to 38  Prodromos, III, lines 85–8 and line 53, respectively. 39  Ibid., III, lines 100–5. Though the locations of Alamos, Alazos, and Balza are unknown, Matthews and Glatz have identified ‘at least a dozen’ fortified hilltop sites during their study of Paphlagonia that date to the Byzantine period, thus this was certainly a province with a number of rural fortresses that needed to be secured by any possible conqueror. C. Glatz and R. Matthews, At Empire’s Edge: Project Paphlagonia: Regional Survey in North-­Central Turkey (London, 2009), pp. 195–7. 40  On the conceptual world in the poem, see: Shlyakhtin, ‘Master of Kastamon’, passim. 41 ‘Εἰς τὴν ἐπὶ τῇ ἁλώσει τῆς Κασταμόνος ἐπινίκιον πρόδον τοῦ αὐτοκράτορος κυροῦ Ἰωάννοῦ τοῦ Κομνηνοῦ δεκάστιχα πολιτικά τοῖς δήμοις’ [Dekastichs in political verse on the victory procession of the emperor lord John Komnenos, for/by the Demes], Hörandner, ‘Zur kommunikativen Funktion byzantinischer Gedichte’, pp. 114–18. For the triumph in general, see Magdalino, ‘The Triumph of 1133’, pp. 53–70. 42 ‘Ὦ δεῦρο σύγκλητε βουλή . . ./οἱ τοῦ μονήρους βίου . . ./μαθήμασιν . . ./πολέμοις . . ./τύχης . . ./ξένης’, Prodromos, IV, lines 240–8. 43 Ibid., lines 31–40, 121–30, 201–10 (the latter containing the immortal lines: ὦ φλέγε φλέγε, νικητά, φλέγε τοὺς πολεμίους, φρύξον αὐτοὺς ὡς λάχανον, O burn burn, victor, burn the enemies, Roast them as vegetables); A.  Heisenburg, Aus der Geschichte und Literatur der Palaiologenzeit (Munich, 1920), pp. 85–132; M. Jeffreys, ‘The Comnenian Prokypsis’, Parergon n.s. 5 (1987), pp. 38–53. Macrides disputes that prokypsis occurred in the Komnenian era, but elements of such a ceremony are being

Betrayal and Conquest in Anatolia  181 extended metaphors of the emperor being like the sun giving life to the empire with his rays, and how the sweat of his hard work nurtures the land.44 This per­ form­ance aspect of the triumph is crucial to understanding what it can tell us about the campaign, as the poem complemented the visual ceremonial being per­ formed in front of the spectators as it was being read or sung. Where the first Kastamon poem presented an official report of the campaign in high style to the court, the triumph and this associated deme choir poem show­ cased the campaign to the whole populace of Constantinople, something likely to have been of great benefit to John following his brother’s failed coup. Along with grandiose praise for the emperor, such as John being not only richer than Croesus but also a better general, not to mention his being guided by the Mother of God rather than demons, the poem delivers a lot of information to its audience.45 His previous victories over the Dalmatians and Pechenegs and prior Anatolian cam­ paigns, including the references to Amorion and Lemnos that are not otherwise mentioned in our narrative sources, are communicated, together with a double mention of the other fortresses captured in the twentieth and twenty-­ sixth ­stanzas.46 The expulsion of the Turks and the plunder taken from across the Halys mentioned in the first poem are corroborated with a hunting metaphor used in the eighth stanza and a description of the despoiling of the land in that region in the twenty-­sixth stanza.47 This description is likely to have directly referred to the procession of this plunder through the city to the ‘divine sanctuary’, possibly referring to Hagia Sophia.48 In the same way, one stanza is entirely dedicated to listing captured ‘Satraps’ (a classicizing reference to contemporary Turkish chief­ tains) who would have been paraded as part of this procession, as direct proof of the success of the campaign.49 Prodromos says that he himself recognized a cer­ tain Emir ‘Thogkril’ of Amaseia, Emir Alp Arslan of Gangra, and then eight more important enough to be named along with ‘many others’.50 At the same time, John is acclaimed for having brought the Turkish ‘wolves’ into the light by transform­ ing them into ‘guard dogs’ for his citizens, thus informing us that John almost certainly enrolled some of his erstwhile foes into his army as he had Pechenegs,

evoked in poem by Prodromos written specifically for John’s appearance at the races, where almost all of the imagery is equating John with light: Prodromos, XII; R.  Macrides, Pseudo-­Kodinos and the Constantinopolitan Court (Farnham, 2013), pp. 407–8; from this evidence, John’s reign is a period of transition regarding ceremonial such as this. 44  Prodromos, IV, lines 31–40, 61–70, 121–30, 201–10. 45  Ibid., lines 151–60. 46  Ibid., lines 224–6, 270–3 and lines 211–12, 265, respectively; cf. Chapter Four for Lemnos. 47  Ibid., lines 81–90 and lines 260–9, respectively. 48  Ibid., line 240. 49  Ibid., lines 230–9. 50 ‘τοὺς δὲ σατράπας μάλιστα καὶ τοὺς ἐκκρίτους ὅρα· ὅρα τὸν Ἀμασειανὸν πρὸ τῶν λοιπῶν Τογκρίλην, τὸν ἀπὸ Γάγγρας Ἀλψαροῦς, τὸν ἀμηρᾶν Πραχίμην, τὸν Ἐλελδῆν, τὸν Ἐλπεγκοῦς, τὸν Τζυκῆν, τὸν Ἰνάλην. ἔχεις πρὸς τούτοις ἀριθμεῖν καί τινας ἄλλους πλείους, Καλλινογλῆν, Ἀϊτουγδῆν, Αὐσάραριν, μυρίους·’, ibid., lines 232–7.

182  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Serbs, and other Turks beforehand.51 Though there were Turks in John’s army before, he would have an entire Turkish contingent at Antioch, and they are mentioned specifically during many operations in Cilicia, and so it is likely he recruited many of these soldiers at this time.52 There was therefore a lot more to this campaign than the capture of Kastamon itself. John’s strategy may have focused on the siege of the primary target, Kastamon, but the conquest of a territory is not accomplished through the capture of one site alone. Prodromos provides this extra information: rather than seeing the emperor marching to a city, seizing it, gaining tribute and going home, we can now produce a far more realistic model of John’s Kastamon campaign: John was not able, however, to complete this strategy in a single year: though the River Halys was crossed and Kastamon secured from the east, it was still vul­ nerable from the south via the pass through the Olgassys mountains, the modern Ilgaz Dağları. As with any pre-­modern army, John had up until then favoured one expedition a year, ideally returning himself to the capital over the winter, and allowing his army to return home. This policy was to change after 1133, as just as he held his glorious triumph in Constantinople, the crowning achievement of any Roman general, and a necessary demonstration in the capital that John and the Byzantine Territory • •

Imperial forces gather at a chosen city or fortification They train and secure supply lines before embarking on their campaign, often over the previous winter or at least the spring

A new target territory is chosen for the next campaign

Target Territory for Conquest • •

•

Cities and fortresses are conquered Enemies are defeated over multiple skirmishes as the countryside is scoured of hostile forces The remainder are driven out of the territory

Fortifications are built if needed and garrisons installed

Territory for Plundering • •

•

Enemies are defeated in battle again (if necessary) This territory is raided for plunder, captives, livestock and wealth in general A natural barrier is used to separate this territory and the target territory, delineating the two

Imperial forces retreat, having gained material wealth and greater security for the target territory

Figure 18  Model representing John’s offensive strategy in Anatolia, Lau, ‘Power of Poetry’, p. 208. 51 ‘τοὺς λυμεῶνας καὶ φθορεῖς τὴς πολιτείας λύκους κύνας δεικνύεις φύλακας αὐτῆς τῆς πολιτείας’, ibid., lines 177–8. 52  See Chapter Eight.

Betrayal and Conquest in Anatolia  183 empire had found a new equilibrium after the troubled late 1120s and Isaac’s con­ spiracy: Kastamon was recaptured by Ghazi. As the imperial army had returned to Constantinople, Ghazi had returned from the east with an army that had been almost wholly successful against cru­ saders there, and besieged Kastamon. Despite its strength, it could not hold against such a storm, and so Ghazi gained some small revenge for John’s cam­ paign by massacring the Roman garrison.53 Once again, it is Michael the Syrian who provides us with these crucial narrative details, as Choniates and Kinnamos obscure or are merely uninterested in the details of what occurred in the prov­ inces. His worth as a balanced narrator with regard to Byzantine and Turkic mat­ ters in general is demonstrated here by an almost smug, ironic tone, as John captures Kastamon, and then Ghazi takes it straight back. Michael then tells us that John lost no time in setting out again against the Turks with his sons, but while he was in Turkish territory he received word that his beloved wife Eirene-­ Piroska had died while in Bithynia, likely having followed John into the province to see him and his army off to the boundaries of the empire as was customary for the women of the court.54 Michael goes further by saying that John’s eldest son, the young emperor Alexios, was also ill, and Kinnamos mentions that following his wife’s funeral and the news of Kastamon’s fall (though by Michael’s chron­ ology it would have been seized before John set out on campaign), John too fell ill, delaying the campaign until early spring 1134.55 Michael adds to this picture that Isaac’s remaining supporters in Constantinople attempted to smuggle him back to the capital to take advantage of John’s absence.56 Though John was informed of the renewed plot, this incident demonstrates that Isaac remained a threat, and gave John another reason to make sure his presence was felt in the capital. Michael also mentions that during John’s illness, a Turkish army, by impli­ cation composed of supporters of both Isaac and Mas’ud with Ghazi’s blessing (though the Danishmendids were still campaigning around Edessa) attacked Sozopolis, but were unable to take the city and withdrew.57 Here, Isaac may have been trying to prove himself John’s military superior, portraying himself as having the ‘allegiance’ of the other Anatolian powers so his supporters would depose John. But, with his failure to take Sozopolis, Isaac’s gamble failed, and his coalition was weakened. 53  Choniates mentions the ethnicity of the garrison; Mich. Syr. 16.5, p. 614; tr. p. 233; NC, p. 19; JK, p. 14. 54  Mich. Syr. 16.5, p. 234; JK, p. 14; John left to build the fortress of Ankyrous when ‘ladies of the court departed from the city (of Lopadion)’, implying it was normal for the ladies to join John at least in the safer provinces while he was away from Constantinople: NC, p. 19; see L. Garland, ‘Imperial Women and Entertainment at the Middle Byzantine Court’, Byzantine Women: Varieties of Experience, 800–1200, ed. L. Garland (Aldershot, 2006), pp. 181–2. 55  Mich. Syr. 16.5, p. 614; tr. p. 234; JK, p. 14. 56  Mich. Syr. 16.5, p. 614; tr. p. 232. 57  Ibid., p. 233.

184  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 John had set out against Paphlagonia to prevent Danishmendid hegemony and to neutralize the threat posed by his brother, but at the same time he had to secure his rule in Constantinople through the triumph, ironically meaning that Kastamon was lost immediately. Coupled with John’s own illness and Isaac’s con­ tinuing threat, we can see clearly how John’s personal and domestic concerns shaped his foreign policy in Anatolia. The assault on Sozopolis, though in­ef­fect­ ive, demonstrated that Isaac’s betrayal had made the Anatolian polities more hos­ tile to the empire as they actively campaigned to unwind John’s gains. Fortunately for John, he not only recovered from his illness in 1134, but Ghazi Danishmend also died in September. This occurred even as the ambassador of the caliph of Baghdad recognized him with the title of melik (king): this confirmed Ghazi’s place as the pre-­eminent Muslim ruler in the area that he had fought for all his life against fellow Turks, Crusaders, Armenians, and the empire.58 His death would mark the beginning of the end for the Danishmendids. His son Mohammed was immediately beset by revolts from two of his brothers, Yaghi and Ayn al-­Dawla, though according to Michael, because Ghazi was in Melitene he did not even learn of their revolt until November. Thus, John’s next campaign occurred at the perfect moment to take advantage of the new disunity of the Danishmendids.59

The Second Paphlagonian Campaign of 1134 and the Treachery of Mas’ud The death of Ghazi meant not only war between Mohammed and his brothers but also opportunities for Mas’ud of Ikonion: he was married to Ghazi’s daughter and so was just as much an enemy of Mohammed as his brothers, a fact noted by both Choniates and Kinnamos.60 John therefore sent ambassadors with an alliance proposal, and though we have no details of the terms of this we know it was en­ticing enough to convince Mas’ud to send forces to join John’s army: Kinnamos tells us specifically that ‘one of the nobles of his court came with an army to give hostages and join in the war.’61 This created a full alliance, and one that suggests continuity once more with the policies of John’s father, who had relied on Sulayman in the same way to recapture imperial cities lost to enemy Turks before making agreements with Melik-­Shah.62 Mas’ud had likely been playing both sides since John supported him in 1126, and so he was also following the terms of his previous position as a client of John, though he could always break ties again whenever it suited him to do so. His opportunistic nature is also indicated by the mysterious disappearance of Isaac, who had previously been a guest at Mas’ud’s court. Isaac would re-­emerge, according to Prodromos, though not in Latin 58  Ibid., p. 237. 59 Ibid., p. 238; JK, p. 14; NC, p. 19. 60  JK, p. 14; NC, p. 19. See: Lau and Shlyakhtin, ‘Mas’ūd’, pp. 230–52. 61 Ibid. 62 Frankopan, Call from the East, pp. 46–56.

Betrayal and Conquest in Anatolia  185 sources, in the kingdom of Jerusalem in 1136.63 Whether he was let go by Mas’ud or merely escaped once more is unknown, but either way, Mas’ud appears to have always kept his options open throughout this period, as John sought to clear up the mess created by his brother’s betrayal, and from there to advance the empire’s position in Anatolia. With Mas’ud’s troops in support, the imperial army marched to the city of Gangra, located south of the mountain pass to Kastamon.64 In this, John could amend his previous mistake and secure Paphlagonia and Kastamon from every side, and with Gangra taken Kastamon would be surrounded and thus taken eas­ ily. Our Greek narrative sources both tell us that Mohammed then carried out a diplomatic coup by winning Mas’ud back over to his side, ‘with letters, amongst other things’, and that the Turkish troops with John left the encampment outside Gangra in the middle of the night, making this at least the third betrayal John had suffered in Anatolia.65 No mention is made of what John did to the hostages he had taken earlier, though he was apparently furious and keen to chase the Turks down immediately, but he was persuaded to stay by ‘some monks who chanced to be present’, accord­ ing to Kinnamos, who tells us the monks contended that he only had to be brave and he would prevail against Gangra.66 The emperor then assaulted the citadel, but (perhaps unsurprisingly considering Gangra’s natural defences) was repulsed and forced to retreat to Lopadion on the Rhyndakos for the winter, where he was close to the frontier and could easily receive dispatches from Constantinople and the rest of the empire by river.67 Kinnamos might have sought here to demonstrate John’s piety in that he lis­ tened to the monks despite his desire to deal with his treacherous former allies. Or perhaps John actually did launch this assault after consulting these monks, and Kinnamos implies that John listened to the wrong counsel, leading to this failed operation. Either way, John could not have laid siege to Gangra over the winter. Indeed, even at Lopadion Kinnamos tells us there was hunger as John kept the army together, likely because he was expecting to overwinter in reconquered lands, or to disperse for the winter, and as such had not stored enough provi­ sions.68 Choniates does not mention any of this, conforming to his usual practice of preserving the image of John as the perfect emperor by simply omitting inci­ dents where John was not an immediate success, merely saying ‘and henceforth the Romans met with little success in this campaign’—a line that conveys a great deal if there was nothing good to say about the remaining military operations.69

63  Prodromos notes in an encomium that Isaac visited all the holy sites in Palestine as a pilgrim, spending a lot of his own money to bring water in channels to the Monastery of St John Prodromos on the Jordan to alleviate pilgrims’ thirst. Prodromos, XL. 64  JK, p. 14; NC, p. 19. 65  Ibid. Quotation from NC, tr. p. 13. 66  JK, p. 14; tr. p. 21. 67  Ibid., cf. K. Belke, Paphlagonien und Honorias, TIB 9 (Vienna, 1996), pp. 196–9. 68 Ibid. 69  NC, p. 19; tr. p. 13.

186  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 This incident demonstrates once again how the personal interactions of the leading figures could change the outcome of a campaign. It took John a fifth cam­ paign to secure Paphlagonia finally.

The Final Paphlagonian Campaign of 1135 and the Siege of Gangra After John spent the winter ruminating on these new setbacks—­both losing his ally and having been repulsed from Gangra—­Choniates was likely putting it mildly when he tells us that John ‘engaged Mohammed once again in battle, but now even more vigorously’ when he returned to Paphlagonia in 1135.70 From Kinnamos we learn that Kastamon was regained ‘by agreement’, and that on John’s arrival at Gangra the Turks there did not surrender because they were expecting relief from Turkish forces gathering near the River Rhyndakos. These forces had, however, dispersed over the winter, and Gangra surrendered when this became evident.71 Choniates tells us the Turks were unwilling to negotiate but does not say why that was, and that John first took the surrounding area before setting up his camp.72 In contrast to Kinnamos, Choniates goes into detail concerning a sustained artillery bombardment that John ordered as his main tactic to take the city. He first attacked the citadel, but unsurprisingly, considering its height, strength, and the will of the defenders, he made no progress against it.73 He then had to switch tactics and targets to ‘the houses which could be seen from the hilltops on which the Romans were camped’, killing those within and thus rendering it ‘no longer safe to walk the streets nor to remain indoors’, a brutal tactic of targeting ‘non-­ combatants’ far more familiar to us in the modern era.74 However, brutality was to have the desired effect, as on account of this, and the death of the ruler of Gangra (possibly the emir Alp Arslan who was captured by John in his previous Kastamon campaign and exhibited in the triumph), the Turks surrendered the city to him, and John ‘expelled the Turkish hordes’ and posted a garrison of two thousand troops before returning to Constantinople.75 This was an exceptionally large garrison, as will be discussed in Chapter Ten, indicative of Gangra’s position on the frontier. Choniates’ narrative then continues into the future, saying that Gangra was in fact to fall to the Turks when ‘the emperor’s attention was diverted by other grave issues’. This unusual departure from his usual rhetorical strategy of omitting John’s failures could well be down to Choniates’ personal experiences during the sack of Constantinople in the Fourth Crusade, although whether he is 70 Ibid. 71  JK, p. 15; tr. p. 21. 72  NC, p. 20. 73 Ibid. See Fig. 16. 74  Ibid., pp. 20–1; see Chapter Eight; Glatz and Matthews, Project Paphlagonia, p. 191. 75 Ibid.

Betrayal and Conquest in Anatolia  187 correct in this regard is unsubstantiated.76 Choniates experienced first-­hand what a conflict that targeted non-­combatants was like during the horrors of the fall of the Queen of Cities; his willingness to narrate the deliberate targeting of civilians by his usual paragon of emperors may reflect his desire to show God’s judgement upon such acts. This trope becomes more common in Choniates’ narrative as his depiction of the taxis of the world broke down.77 In John’s defence, a siege may not have been a viable option due to the cisterns to be found at Gangra even in modern times, demonstrating why an assault was necessary. These accounts are not mutually exclusive, as both sets of events could have happened, and this could merely be a case where Choniates had more informa­ tion. A whole new perspective on this siege is, however, provided in a lengthy poem by Prodromos.78 The poem opens with a corroboration of Michael the Syrian’s chronology. It mentions how John was ‘rushing upon the east, face to face with evildoers’ when ‘insufferable pain blunts the glorious assault’: John’s beloved wife, Empress Eirene-­Piroska, had died.79 This opening usefully confirms Michael the Syrian’s chronology, but also mentions how, as emperor, John had to place the living before the dead (lines 17–20), and that he had previously captured the Lord of Gangra (Amir Alp-­Arslan), who had now died, leaving Gangra ruled by his widow (lines 25–6). This information is unique to this source, as is all further information concerning this unnamed Lady who led the defence of Gangra. From this point on she is attributed many verses of speech where she appears alternately

Figure 19  Gangra 2014. Barely a few towers remain, though the citadel hill still dominates modern Çankırı. 76 Ibid. 77  Ibid: Choniates personal experiences are recounted on p. 328, while his lament for the city makes up most of the last quarter of his work. 78  Prodromos, VIII. For full discussion of this poem, see: M. Lau, ‘ “Both General and Lady”: The 1135 Defence of Gangra by Its Amira’, Women and Violence in the Medieval Mediterranean, ed. L. Caravaggi, L. Domingues and G. Paoletti (Abingdon, 2022), pp. 25–38. 79 ‘ἀντολίηνδ᾽ἐπόρουσας ἐναντιβίους κακὰ ῥέξων’; ‘ὡς δέ τευ ἄλγος ἄλαστον ἀπήμβλυνε φαίδιμον ὁρμήν’, Prodromos, VIII, lines 8 and 11, respectively, death and her funeral being mentioned in lines 11–17.

188  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 20  The immense cisterns at Gangra testify to how long it could have held out during a siege, while the view from the citadel down to the remains of the Hellenistic and medieval period city show how devastating a bombardment would have been, as it could be easily targeted from the surrounding hills.

as a savage enemy and cunning nemesis to John, and yet also a noble and worthy lady and general. When John sent his ‘finest men’ as ambassadors to negotiate a surrender, she laughs, defying their ultimatum (lines 27–35). In her speech, she describes herself as a woman who puts forth the strength of a man, and willingly embraces the joys of battle rather than surrender to John. She declares that she will not yield as she sits secure in a lofty citadel with well-­armed soldiers, and then possibly taunts John by mentioning that she is not ‘without allies’ (lines 26–44). Though Prodromos relates that these words did not anger or alarm John, despite their ‘arrogance’, and the poem moves swiftly on to John’s capture of Kastamon, and arrival at Gangra in person (lines 51–7), this may be a subtle reference to the betrayal of Mas’ud, though Prodromos gives not a hint of the outraged reaction Kinnamos relates. Whether this occurred or not, we can certainly see that Prodromos is presenting John here in the best possible light, even as he then presents the Lady of Gangra as an ambiguous figure who is both truly inimical to the empire, and yet a worthy enemy for John despite her being a heathen woman. Prodromos (in accordance with the later accounts of Kinnamos and Choniates) then relates that in the spring the emperor first returned to Kastamon, on which he unleashed all the might of imperial siege engines: penthoused siege engines, miners, ‘wall-­destroying machines, a hail of rocks’.80 This deadly barrage was maintained for three days before the Turks surrendered and opened the gates, a 80 ‘μήχεα ὠλεσίτειχα, χαλαζοβόλει δέ τε πέτρους’, Prodromos, VIII, line 63.

Betrayal and Conquest in Anatolia  189 description that makes Kinnamos’ statement that the city was taken ‘by agreement’ appear a dark simplification, in addition to being another example of Kinnamos’ occasional minimization of John’s achievements.81 Following this, Prodromos tells us that John took counsel, and decided to leave behind any soldiers who could not travel, and though he set up his banner under­ neath the walls of Gangra, he also sent his men all around the countryside, with Prodromos using the vivid simile that: ‘as the hare is gulped down as it is seized by the hounds, so will the fleeing Persians be seized by the sons of Ausones.’82 This confirms Choniates’ reference to John taking the surrounding area first, as he did on the previous campaign to secure the entire region.83 Prodromos’ poem then outlines a simile-­heavy description of an assault upon the lower city, evoking the image of rocks and arrows falling like flour upon the city.84 Having taken the lower city, the siege engines were turned on the walls of the citadel as well as civil­ ian houses (confirming Choniates’ description of events), while John raised his sword to heaven and prayed to the Virgin Mary to end the people’s suffering by giving Gangra to him, specifically by guiding barbarian peoples to his feet as she had before, so as to end this bloodshed (lines 147–73). This echoes John’s actions at Berroia and so should be considered more than a narrative flourish, but what is unusual is that the Theotokos’ opponent then appears in the person of the Gangran Lady in order to ‘weave fine plans of wicked cunning’ (lines 186–7). She gives a powerful speech noting the ‘great wickedness the great lord (John) has done against the city and still does’, ‘ὅσσα πόλιν κάκ᾽ἔρεξεν ἄναξ μέγας ἠδ᾽ἔτι ῥέζει’, in reference to John’s siege weapons, in response to which she hires an assassin, who will disguise himself as a fugitive, get close to the emperor and then kill him with a poisoned blade (lines 192–216). However, her plan is thwarted when an arrow hits the assassin as he was sneaking out of the citadel, causing her to deliver two further speeches (lines 231–42 and 244–8). She then tells the women in her entourage that she must no longer be queen but must become a slave to John so that they might live, as all was now lost. She further instructs her entourage to tell the men, perhaps their husbands, to shave their hair, put dust on their heads and tie their hands (following biblical paradigms for ­humility) and descend to the city to surrender to John.85 She then bids farewell to her city, and when John accepts the surrender and enters the gates, she prostrates herself, fully armed, in front of his horse (lines 254–5). She then seems to disappear from the poem as John processes to Gangra’s cathedral to celebrate his victory, and the

81  JK, p. 15; tr. p. 21. 82 ‘ἀλλὰ καὶ ὣς δασύπουν κεκαφηότα κύνες ἕλοντο, ὣς ἄρα καὶ φυγάδας Πέρσας ἕλον Αὔσονες υἱοί’, Prodromos, VIII, lines 93–4. 83  NC, p. 20. 84  Prodromos, VIII, lines 123–46. 85  Putting dust on one’s head and rending one’s clothes is used especially in the Old Testament to dis­ play humility and grief, see: Ezekiel 27:30; Lamentations 2:10; Job 2:12; Joshua 7:6; 2 Samuel 1:2 and 15:32; Amos 2:7; Revelations 18:19. Shaving of the head is also referenced in Isaiah 22:12 for mourning.

190  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 poem ends with John being acclaimed as the only true equal to Alexander the Great for his victories (lines 249–63 and 285–92). This last section is notable for being packaged with an extended simile where John is equated to a hard-­working hus­ bandman, who after his labours returns home to be presented with a cup of wine by his wife as a reward, and he is then praised by his fellow herders of cows, goats, and sheep (lines 264–82). The final fate of the Lady goes unmentioned as John returns to Constantinople in late 1135, but the epic scope of Prodromos’ tale presents these events in the most dramatic way possible, justifying both John’s heroism as ruler and the reason for the campaign to the court at home.86 Such a presentation would have been particularly important in the capital at this time, as contemporaneous with the start of Isaac’s exile we have a number of Prodromos’ poems encouraging the emperor to stay in Constantinople.87 John had spent much of the last five years in the field countering the Danishmendid threat through multiple Paphlagonian campaigns, and only with the death of Ghazi did the province look secure. To be sure, John installed his cousin Adrian Komnenos as doux in the region: in an oration to the later Archbishop of Ohrid, Basilakes tells us that the young Adrian was named as doux of ‘Χάλυβες’, which has usually been associated with the Chaldia and dated to around 1130.88 Gabras’ rebellion excludes this possibility, however, and a later date is disproven by Adrian taking holy orders as a monk before John headed east in 1137 according to both the oration and other sources that place Adrian with John in Syria.89 The term ‘Chalybes’ is the name of a tribe in ancient authors such as Strabo and Xenophon, and though they do place their home as the area in the eastern Pontos, Basilakes could simply be using the term poetically to refer to a tribe of the east.90 More precisely, Herodotos tells us that this tribe lived west of the mouth of the Halys river, which would actually place this tribe near to Sinope, and, thus, Kastamon and Gangra.91 Furthermore, on Abraham Ortelius’ 1624 map of the voyage of the Argonauts, this is also where he places the Chalybes.92 Whether Basilakes meant the phrase poetically and unspe­ cifically, or specifically in accordance with Herodotus’ geography, the only eastern province with any connection to Chalybes that Adrian could have been made governor of around the 1130s was here—­and this province might at this point be identified as the Armeniakon theme. Such an identification is uncertain: though Paphlagonia is used as a toponym in our sources, it is never described as a theme in twelfth-­century sources, and there is no doux with that association, whereas

86  Further discussion of this unique poem in Lau, ‘Both General and Lady’, pp. 25–38. 87  See Chapter Nine for full analysis of these poems. 88 Basilakes, Or. 2, pp. 35–7. 89  See Chapter Eight. 90 T.  Broughton and D.  Brand, ‘Chalybes’, Oxford Classical Dictionary, ed. S.  Hornblower and A. Spawforth (Oxford, 2005), p. 304. 91  Herodotus I, p. 28. 92  Abraham Ortelius, ‘Argonautica’, in: Ortelius, Parergon, 1606, Facsimile edition (s.l., 1968).

Betrayal and Conquest in Anatolia  191 when John headed east to unseat Constantine Gabras of Trebizond he is also said to have marched in order to expel ‘the barbarians who had intruded upon the Armeniakon theme’.93 Using this term, rather than Pontos, or indeed Chaldia, and separately to the recapture of Trebizond, tells us that he must be referring to a region to the west of Chaldia, and that there was thematic administration there that these ‘barbarians’ had encroached upon. Security in this part of Anatolia was, however, not to last. Ghazi’s death not only led to a four-­sided civil war between the three sons of Ghazi and Mas’ud but also resulted in a multi-­sided conflict including the empire, Armenian Cilicia, and a number of more local forces, from nomadic Turks to Greek- and Latin-­ speaking outposts. With the situation in such a constant state of flux, it is unsur­ prising that one of the parties would seek to gain advantage by seizing imperial territory, and such a strike was to come from Prince Leon of Armenian Cilicia, a strike that John decided to counter with a full invasion. The events of 1130–5 were shaped by a combination of Isaac’s betrayal, Gabras’ rebellion, and Mas’ud’s treachery, together with the death of Empress Piroska-­ Eirene, the illness of John and his heir, and the warring within the wider Danishmendid clan. This was an era where the personal, domestic situational politics of leading figures shaped events as much as any other factor. As noted first in the Introduction to this volume, there has been considerable debate as to the reasons for, and success of, John’s campaigning: whether his campaigns formed part of some form of Komnenian reconquista, with an almost crusader ideology, or indeed whether these gains were ephemeral and barely delayed the Turkish ascendancy in Anatolia.94 In this chapter, it can be seen that questions of ideology were secondary to the absolute primacy of maintaining authority in Constantinople. Further, most of Paphlagonia remained an imperial province throughout Manuel’s reign, even if Gangra itself was retaken. John’s work in recovering the province does not appear to have been wasted. In both cases, there is an economic dimension that has also been overlooked in both the causes and results of this campaign; all of this can only, however, be analysed once the next seven years of John’s campaigns, and their legacy into Manuel’s reign, have been examined. As 1136 began, Paphlagonia was retaken, Ghazi was dead, his sons fighting each other, and Leon of Cilicia had chosen the wrong moment to attack the empire when John was in fact free to choose his actions for the first time in years; and he must have recalled that it was Leon too who had supported Isaac in his coalition against him. This would lead to the greatest of John’s campaigns, in Cilicia and Syria. 93  NC, p. 34; tr. p. 20. 94 Examples include: Lilie, ‘Byzantine and Turkish States’, pp. 37–50; DOC, p. 246; Papageorgiou, ‘Political Ideology’, pp. 37–52 and Beihammer, ‘Emergence of Muslim-­Turkish Anatolia’, esp. pp. 377 and 379; Magdalino, ‘Empire of the Komnenoi’, p. 633; D. Sullivan, ‘Byzantine Fronts and Strategies 300–1204’, A Companion to the Byzantine Culture of War, ca. 300–1204, ed. Y. Stouraitis (Leiden, 2018), p. 287.

Seleukeia

mo

La

Anazarbos Edessa Sarventikar Turbussel Adana G lek Mopsuestia Manbij Tarsus Alexandretta Buza’ah Gastin Aleppo Antioch Ferep Orontes R .

Attaleia

M

Shayzar

e

d

t

e

r

Mosul

Kafartab Nistrion Hama

Eu ph ra tes

Homs

Cyprus

i

Kesoun

Marash

s

Lake Pousgouse

Vahka

N

ri Tig

Ikonion

Geben/Kapniskerti

s R.

Melitene

Baghdad

Tripoli

Baalbek

r

a

Damascus

n

e a n

S e a

Tyre Acre

Jerusalem 0 0

Map Seven  Cilicia and the Levant.

100 100

200

300

200 300

400

500

400 miles 600 km

Major City City Fortress Pass

Eight The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria John’s expedition to the east from 1136 to 1139 was perhaps the most ambitious endeavour of his reign. With the benefit of hindsight, historians know that it was from Turkish Anatolia that the Ottomans would eventually rise, finally ending the empire in 1453, so John’s focus on Armenians and Crusaders rather than Anatolia has been seen as a strategic error.1 John’s choice has been justified on the grounds that he was a crusader carrying out a Komnenian reconquista, or that he went east to stake his claim to being head of Christendom, as Roman emperors had been before.2 John’s decision to go east was, however, as much due to opportunism as ideology, and it should be appreciated that these eastern adventures were just as crucial to advancing John’s goal of a restored New Roman Empire as his Anatolian campaigns, and had results more concrete than he has traditionally been acknowledged. The Treaty of Devol, agreed upon in 1108 by John’s father Alexios and Bohemond I, whereby it was agreed that Antioch was an imperial city, had never been implemented. With John’s western provinces settled, and Anatolia in chaos at the death of Ghazi, he now had opportunity to press his claims in person. As before, his strategy consisted of using military force and generous terms to overawe local rulers, make them his clients, and then use their forces to supplement his army for further campaigns. By the turn of the year 1135 to 1136, two major developments occurred that provide additional context for John’s actions at this time: the offer of a marriage by ambassadors from Antioch, and an incursion into Pamphylia by Leon of Armenian Cilicia.3

1 Karayannopoulos, Ιστορία Βυζαντινού Κράτους, pp. 108–23. 2 Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos, p. 16; Papageorgiou, ‘Political Ideology’, pp. 37–52. Stouraitis, ‘Narratives of John II Komnenos’ wars’, pp. 22–36; Stouraitis, ‘Jihād and Crusade: Byzantine Positions towards the Notions of “Holy War” ’, Byzantina Symmeikta 21 (2011), pp. 11–63, esp. 17–26; Stouraitis, ‘ “Just War” and “Holy War” in the Middle Ages: Rethinking Theory through the Byzantine Case-­ Study’, JÖB 62 (2012), pp. 229–50; Harris, Byzantium and the Crusades, pp. 81–5. Contra: Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 140–1; P. Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 37–41. 3  Mich. Syr. 15.12, pp. 617–18; tr. p. 209.

Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143. Maximilian C. G. Lau, Oxford University Press. © Maximilian C. G. Lau 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198888673.003.0009

194  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

The Antiochene Proposal, the Siege of Seleukeia and Diplomatic Moves There is no particular month given by Kinnamos for the arrival of the Antiochene ambassadors in 1135, but if they came by ship then John is likely to have met with them late in the year after he had returned to Constantinople from Paphlagonia. Though Buck has proposed that these ambassadors might have arrived a few years earlier on account of the waning influence of the kingdom of Jerusalem over Antioch in those years, John was busy campaigning in Paphlagonia at this time.4 As such, he was unlikely to have been able to give his full attention to their ­proposal if they had arrived at an earlier date. By 1135, however, this embassy would have been of great interest: the ambassadors proposed a marriage between Constance (heir to the principality of Antioch after the death of Bohemond II at the hands of Ghazi’s forces back in 1130) to John’s youngest son Manuel, and with that marriage the absorption of the principality into the empire.5 Since Tancred’s refusal to hand over Antioch on the death of Bohemond I, as he was sworn to do under the Treaty of Devol, the principality had technically been in constant rebellion against the emperor, but with this embassy it appears that at least some Antiochenes were in favour of a rapprochement.6 An opportunity to secure the imperial claim to Antioch by marriage would certainly have appealed to John, and with the empire’s western provinces secure and the sons of Ghazi at war with each other, he was as free as he could have wished to secure his claim. Even before the year was out the emperor appears to have started preparations for an ex­ped­ ition to the east, on the one hand gathering a large army of diverse peoples and provisions, and on the other engaging in extensive diplomatic initiatives with the Latin west and Fatimid Egypt.7 These western initiatives were primarily focused on Italy, with the aim of aligning John with the Italian maritime republics, the Papacy, and the German emperor against the expanding power of the Normans of southern Italy. The death of Pope Honorius in 1130 inaugurated a schism in the western church: Pope Innocent II now competed for recognition with Pope Anacletus  II. When Roger of Sicily took advantage to have himself crowned king by Anacletus, Emperor Lothar III (1133–7), in alliance with Innocent II, led an army against Roger in 1132.8 Prior to the schism, the papacy had needed the Normans as allies 4 Buck, Principality of Antioch, pp. 191–2. 5  JK, p. 16; Treadgold, State and Society, p. 633. 6  See nos. 33–5, Chapter One. D. A. Parnell, ‘John II Comnenus and Crusader Antioch’, Crusades—­ Medieval Worlds in Conflict, ed. T. Madden, J. Naus, and V. Ryan (Farnham, 2010), p. 151; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 37. The idea that John’s reign was the era in which the Antiochene nobility first considered accepting Byzantium as their suzerain has also been recently proposed by Buck, Principality of Antioch, esp. pp. 190–2. 7  William of Tyre, 14.24, p. 662. 8  J.  Rowe, ‘The Papacy and the Greeks (1122–1153)’, Church History 28 (1959), p. 115; G.  Loud, ‘The Papacy and the Rulers of Southern Italy’, The Society of Norman Italy, ed. G. Loud and A. Metcalfe (Leiden, 2002), p. 116.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  195 against the German emperors and their own rebellious populace, but with the ending of the investiture controversy through the Concordat of Worms in 1122, it was the Normans who had emerged as the primary threat to papal power.9 John sent an embassy to Lothar in 1135, and another to Pisa, containing Venetian envoys as well, which according to the Annalista Saxo were all aimed at an alliance between the Roman empire and Lothar against Roger, the so-­called ‘tyrant’ of Sicily.10 This alliance would keep Roger busy in Italy, and thus unable to attack imperial territories while John was in the east, and would have had the secondary objective of smoothing over any qualms some in the west may have had over John’s claims on Antioch.11 In early 1136, both the Antiochene proposal and this diplomatic activity were followed by the arrival of news that Seleukeia in Pamphylia was under siege.12 During John’s campaigning, the ambitious Leon had been extending his authority from the mountains to coastal Cilicia; his latest move aimed to take this strategic fortress on the coastal road leading out of Cilicia.13 Unfortunately for Leon, with Kastamon and Gangra conquered, and Mohammed, his two brothers and Mas’ud at war, John was at liberty to meet this attack head on, marshal his army and make for the southern coast that very year, causing Leon’s forces to retreat.14 Winter 1136, therefore, saw John on the south coast at Attaleia, taking ship there according to al-­Athir, where he then awaited the arrival of a fleet bringing the rest of his b ­ aggage and military equipment.15 Whether from there, or before he left Constantinople, John also sent another embassy to Lothar that arrived in 1137, bringing gifts.16 The Annales Erphesfurdenses note that this embassy was concerned that Sicily had seized ‘Africa’ from the empire, in addition to Apulia and Calabria, and had attacked the Venetians.17 Though it has been posited that Africa is included in the Annales merely to make Roger seem more of a threat (and thus give more glory to  Lothar for defeating him), the source reflects the contemporary political ­situ­ation.18 Venice under its new doge, Pietro Polani, found itself once more in alignment with the empire against the Norman threat. John’s own claims on Italy would have appeared especially at risk due to the contemporaneous siege of 9  Loud, ‘The Papacy and the Rulers of Southern Italy’, pp. 154–62. 10  ‘pacem et amicitiam et auxilium contra Rokkerum tirannum, qui partem Romani imperii et terram Grecorum nimis vexaverat’, Annalista Saxo, pp. 601–2; Maragone, Annales Pisani, p. 10; ‘Annales Erphesfurdenses’, MGH (S) rerum Germanicarum VI, ed. H.  Grundmann (Munich, 1969), p. 540; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 113–14; dating for the Annalista Saxo: Nass (1996), pp. 179–207. 11  Parnell, ‘John II Comnenus and Crusader Antioch’, p. 152. 12  JK, p. 16; NC, p. 21. 13 Edwards, Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia, pp. 221–9; Avramea, ‘Road and Sea Communications’, p. 76. 14  Ibid.; the court sources make it plain that John did have to fight through Pamphylia and not merely travel through it: Italikos 43, p. 247; Basilakes, Or. 1, pp. 54–5. 15  Ibn al-­Athir, p. 337. 16  Annales Erphesfurdenses, p. 540; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 114. 17  Annales Erphesfurdenses, p. 540. 18 Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 114.

196  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Naples by Roger, as its duke, Sergios VII, was the last ruler in the region who still used Byzantine titulature; its chronicle was still dated according to John’s reign, and so the city was the last bastion of any form of imperial influence in the peninsula.19 Coupled with that, Roger’s conquests in Africa (specifically modern day Tunisia with some of eastern Algeria and western Libya) could well have contributed to a fear of further Norman expansion and so would have been equally troub­ling to John, the Papacy, the maritime republics, and the German Empire.20 Lothar responded favourably to the embassy, as did his rival German King and eventual successor Conrad III (when he succeeded Lothar unopposed in 1137): Bishop Anselm of Havelberg was sent to Constantinople as the German emperor’s ambassador for the remainder of John’s reign. Through Anselm were channelled diplomatic initiatives such as the betrothal of Conrad’s sister-­in-­law, Bertha of Sulzbach, to a member of the imperial family, and religious initiatives such as theological discussions with Niketas of Nikomedeia.21 Though Anselm admits that he added certain texts later, and so his account is not an exact transcription, its conclusions point to a warming of relations between Constantinople and the west.22 Anselm portrays Greek Christians and their theology as reconcilable with the Latin west, and there is independent material evidence that reinforces this further. At this time, Pisa received 200 silk pallia from John plus a renewal of the privileges granted to them by Alexios in 1111.23 The expansion of Venetian trade privileges to Crete and Cyprus can be dated to c.1137 as well.24 Together with the subsidies for Lothar, this demonstrates that John spent considerable resources on this alliance. This expenditure was entirely justified as it freed John to go east. Pisa sacked Amalfi in 1135, and from late 1136 to 1137, Lothar led an expedition into 19  Alexander of Telese also mentions the duke unsuccessfully attempting to gain aid from Pisa, and so these alliance structures were not only bilateral with the empire. Alexandri Telesini, Book III, 19–Book IV, 6, pp. 147–60; Falco of Benevento, pp. 176–8. The Neapolitan Chronicle mentions John in Regii neapolitani archive V (1858), nos. 457–8, 462, 464–7, and all subsequent entries, and names Sergios as ‘domini sergii in dei nomine et minentissimus consul et dux atque domini gratia magister militum et imperialia protosevasto’. Although this includes many ancestral titles, the use of the im­per­ ial protosebastos dates from the time of Alexios who granted Sergios’ father John VI the title in return for an alliance against the Normans, no. 580; von Falkenhausen, ‘The South Italian Sources’, p. 107. 20 H. Houben, Roger II of Sicily: A Ruler between East and West (Cambridge, 2002), pp. 78–9. 21 J.  T.  Lees, Anselm of Havelberg (Leiden, 1998), pp. 40–7 and 164–282; Anselm of Havelberg, Anticimenon; J.  Hussey, The Orthodox Church in the Byzantine Empire (Revised Edition, Oxford, 2010), p. 1802; Ciggaar, Western Travellers, p. 262. 22  B. Dunkle, ‘Anselm of Hevelberg’s Use of Authorities in his Account of the Filoque’, BZ 10 (2012), pp. 695–722; also ‘Introduction’ of Anselm of Havelberg, Anticimenon, pp. 13–42, 45; A.  Novicoff, ‘Anselm of Havelberg’s Controversies with the Greeks. A Moment in the Scholastic Culture of Disputation’, Dialogues and Debates from Late Antiquity to Late Byzantium, ed. A.  Cameron and N. Gaul (Abingdon, 2017), pp. 104–22. Bucossi has also noted that the text is certainly not entirely fabricated either, as demonstrated by Anselm’s acknowledged ignorance of Greek sources or expressions, see: Bucossi, ‘Six Dialogues of Niketas’, p. 146. Further discussion in Chapter Eleven. 23 Maragone, Annales Pisani, p. 10. 24 Tafel and Thomas, Urkunden, nos. 95–98, 124; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 113–17; Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos, p. 20.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  197 southern Italy.25 The German emperor relieved the siege of Naples and conquered most of Apulia including Bari. He did so with financial and possibly military support from John.26 Lothar’s luck then turned, as he fell out with the Pope over Apulia, his army revolted, and in spite of impaling more than 500 men to restore dis­cip­line he was forced to retreat, and upon his return north he died in the Alps on 4 December.27 This allowed Roger to retake all of southern Italy and Sergios of Naples swore allegiance to him to prevent another siege.28 Though a blow to the alliance, these events were not against John’s interests: had Roger been soundly defeated it would have led to the possibility of Lothar or the Papacy absorbing southern Italy while John was otherwise occupied.29 The narrow failure of Lothar’s expedition had weakened all parties except John. The situation in southern Italy remained open for exploitation by him in the future and, most im­port­ant­ly, kept these powers occupied while John travelled east. Alongside this western diplomacy, we also find intriguing hints as to diplomatic contact with Fatimid Egypt mentioned as an aside in a Genoese letter exchange, though sadly without details.30 We must speculate as to whether this delegation merely discussed routine trade, was simply a polite overture, or whether it had a more pertinent diplomatic purpose. If John’s empire became a permanent presence in the Levant once more, then Egypt would become increasingly relevant, and this was also an especially turbulent time in Egyptian politics. After a half decade of revolts, Caliph Al-­Ḥ āfiz had named an Armenian Christian, Bahrām, as his Wazīr in 1135, a man who had arrived as a refugee from conflicts in Cilicia. His uncle had been the Byzantine governor of Antioch, and he may have been related to Roger’s Armenian admiral and councillor, George of Antioch.31 Though Bahrām was to be ousted in 1137, this intriguing mention of talks in 1136 ­suggests the beginning of a diplomatic rapprochement between Byzantium and Egypt, and hints that John was making every effort to facilitate Byzantium’s return to the Levant. However, this diplomatic good fortune was not to hold on all fronts, as even before John entered Cilicia he learned that Constance of Antioch had been

25  Falco of Benevento, pp. 175–206; Annalista Saxo, pp. 602–11; Romuald of Salerno, Chronicon, ed. G.  Andenna (Salerno, 2001), p. 223; JK, p. 90; the most comprehensive account is presented in R. Rogers, Latin Siege Warfare in the Twelfth Century (Oxford, 1992), pp. 116–18. 26  JK, p. 90; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 38. The reference to Byzantine troops as well as sub­ sid­ies in Lothar’s army is interpreted by Stephenson, Balkan Frontier, p. 210. 27 Ibid. 28  ‘Confestim magister militum Sergius civitatis Neapolitanae ad suam convertiture fidelitatem’, Falco of Benevento, p. 196. 29 Lilie, Handel und Politik, pp. 376–91; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 37–8. 30  W. Wattenbach, ‘Iter austriacum, 1853’, Archiv für Kunde österreichischer Geschichtsquellen XXIV (Vienna, 1855), pp. 79–80. This letter collection was compiled as a teaching aid, but the content of the letters from Emperor Lothar suggests that these are stylized versions of originals, dated between 1132 and 1136. See: D. Abulafia, The Two Italies: Economic Relations between the Norman Kingdom of Sicily and the Northern Communes (Cambridge, 1977), pp. 74–6. 31  Brett, ‘Abbasids, Fatimids and Seljuks’, p. 716; Brett, The Fatimid Empire, pp. 262–72.

198  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 married to Raymond of Poitiers.32 Though Kinnamos tells us the proposal to the emperor had come from the ‘principal personages in the land’, other nobles evidently did not relish the prospect of absorption into the empire, and so conspired with King Fulk of Jerusalem to marry Constance to Raymond.33 William of Tyre obliquely refers to this proposal when he relates that John was indignant that this marriage, and thus the disposition of Antioch, had been arranged without his knowledge or consent.34 The reason for this is probably to be found in the in­tern­al politics of Antioch between Alice, Bohemond’s widow, and her opponents, and therefore there is every likelihood that the proposal came from her before she was politically outmanoeuvred.35 The withdrawal of this proposal has led to the suggestion that John went east  motivated by revenge for this diplomatic slight.36 But, considering John’s ­diplomatic and military preparations for most of the year before this, vengeance cannot be accepted as his main motivation. This marriage would have no doubt facilitated things for John when he reached Antioch, but John was already committed to the conquest of Cilicia, and through it the reconnection of Antioch to the rest of the empire by land. To summarize, in 1136 John had motive on account of the Treaty of Devol, opportunity due to Ghazi’s death and the subsequent Anatolian chaos, and by taking diplomatic steps to free himself from western concerns he could commit to a lengthy eastern campaign. The marriage proposal implied that at least some in Antioch favoured imperial suzerainty, and in case he needed additional mo­tiv­ ation, John’s treacherous brother Isaac was still at large in the east. Finally, 1137 would have been particularly attractive for an eastern expedition for yet one ­further reason: the region was thrown into yet more chaos by the capture of Prince Leon of Cilicia by Raymond of Antioch in late 1136.37

Cilicia in Chaos The 1130s had seen a continuation of the instability Cilicia had suffered since the Turks had overrun much of Anatolia in the late eleventh century. Bohemond II of 32  JK, p. 16. 33  JK, p. 1; tr. p. 22. 34  William of Tyre, 14.24, p. 662. 35  William of Tyre casts multiple aspersions on her character, claiming she attempted to disinherit her daughter and rule herself, though we have only William’s word for any of this information. See: T. Asbridge, ‘Alice of Antioch: A Case Study of Female Power in the Twelfth Century’, The Experience of Crusading II: Defining the Crusader Kingdom, ed. P.  Edbury and J.  Phillips (Cambridge, 2003), pp. 29–47; N. Hodgeson, Women, Crusading and the Holy Land in Historical Narrative (Woodbridge, 2007), pp. 181–2. 36 Harris, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 82. 37  Lilie has previously noted that Isaac may well have been a cause of this expedition, and he linked the marriage of Isaac’s son and Leon’s daughter to Italikos’ accusation that Leon had usurped imperial rights from John that had to be reclaimed. Italikos 43, p. 255; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 110–11.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  199 Antioch had attempted to retake some of Cilicia in 1130, prompting Leon to call in Ghazi Danishmend, whose force killed Bohemond (Ghazi sent his embalmed head to the Abbasid Caliph), but this victory was not followed up due to John’s capture of Kastamon. Unsupported by Ghazi, Leon was, however, able to capture the plains cities of Mopsuestia, Tarsus, and Adana in 1131, and add Sarventikar to his conquests by 1133, an important fortress that guarded the Amanian Gate: the major northern pass through the Amanus mountains (modern Nur Dağları).38 His hold over this territory remained weak: bandits, pirates, and enclaves of Turks, Latins, and ‘Isaurians’ loyal to Constantinople remained. Leon’s already fragile rule was then tested by Raymond. In one of his first actions as the new Prince of Antioch, he allied with Baldwin of Marash, one of the leading nobles of the County of Edessa and the previous ruler of Sarventikar, to press Antiochene claims on the region. Leon was, however, able to gain the support of Count Joscelin II of Edessa, his nephew by marriage, who likely feared that he too would be forced to bow to Antioch, and together they defeated Raymond’s forces.39 Though it looked as if Leon had persevered despite the odds against him, he then made two mistakes. He attacked Seleukeia when he thought John was distracted, and meanwhile he consented to a personal meeting with Baldwin of Marash to agree a peace. At this meeting, Leon was treacherously seized and imprisoned in Antioch. In their father’s absence, Leon’s three sons then fell out, with the eldest, Constantine, blinded by his brothers, and then they too were also captured.40 Considering John had heard the news of Constance’s marriage before he reached Cilicia, it is likely that the emperor was very well informed that Cilicia was now at its most vulnerable to any conqueror, and this was his chance to be that conqueror.

The Conquest of Cilicia, Spring 1137 Historians have traditionally portrayed John’s Cilician campaign as a great success.41 No army met the emperor in the field, and only one siege, Anazarbos, appears to 38  Smbat Sparapet, p. 53; William of Tyre, 13.27, pp. 623–4; Chron. 1234, p. 275; Ghazarian, Kingdom of Cilicia, pp. 115–16; Edwards, Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia, p. 6. 39  William of Tyre, 14.3, p. 635. 40  Ibid., 14.24, p. 663; Smbat Sparapet, p. 53; Smbat believes that the Antiochenes won the battle and then captured not only Leon but also Leon’s other sons after Constantine was blinded. William of Tyre’s account (used above) is seen as the more trustworthy, because of his greater chronological proximity to the events themselves, the circumstances surrounding Leon’s release (discussed below) and Smbat’s erroneous identification of Bohemond as still being the prince of Antioch. Matthew does not mention these details: Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 103–8. Al-­Azimi simply relates that Raymond raided Leon’s lands and captured him, al-­Azimi, p. 138. 41 Ghazarian, Kingdom of Cilicia, p. 116; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 37–8; Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, pp. 48, 91–2; Parnell, ‘John II Comnenus and Crusader Antioch’, p. 152; Lilie gives the most complete account, though he omits the battle at the Cilician Gates related by Basilakes: Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 117–19. For this Cilician campaign, see: Lau, ‘Dream Come True?’, pp. 160–79.

100

50 100

200 miles

200

Melitene

300 km

s

0

150

Vahka os

R.

Geben

Ikonion

La

Anazarbos

113

Attaleia Seleukeia

ed

it

er

Tarsus

Korykos

Mopsuestia Alexandretta Gastin

Antioch

n

ea

n

Cyprus

Se

a

Map Nine  Eastern Campaign, spring/summer 1137.

Turbussel Manbij

Syrian Gate

Shayzar

ra

Edessa

Sarventikar

Toprakkale

Adana

7

G lek

Kesoun

Marash

m

Orontes R.

Cilician Gates

Lake Pousgouse

M

ri Tig

0

1137

Aleppo

Ferep Kafartab

Euphrates N

Nistrion Hama

Homs

Tripoli

Buza’ah

MajorCity City Fortress Pass Battle Route of John’s conquest of Cilicia

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  201 have been a challenge. From the Anonymous Chronicle of 1234 and Ibn al-­Athir we hear that John’s army was able to move through Cilicia at great speed because its baggage was carried by ship.42 Yet even with this advantage, the non-­Byzantine and court texts reveal that John overcame considerable obstacles to advance across Cilicia, and to retain the territory. This Cilician campaign is perhaps the most recorded event of John’s reign, but these accounts are of varying use for the reconstruction of what occurred and why. Both our court texts and Greek histories provide a great deal of detail on individual incidents, but also deliberately adapt chronology for dramatic effect. We are often given the names of fortresses and cities John conquered, but in an order that defies any form of geographical sense for reconstructing the itinerary of his campaign. To solve this problem, answers can be found in the thirteenth-­ century texts of Ibn al-­Athir and the Chronicle of 1234 in particular. Despite their later date of composition, these evidence a great deal more local knowledge of  geography and practicalities: these sources provide us with a clear itinerary whereby John went logically from west to east, starting from Attaleia, and doing so with the aid of a maritime baggage train. His army set out from Attaleia through the mountain passes of Pampylia, in response to which Leon’s army broke their siege of Seleukeia. However, considering Leon himself had been captured by Raymond, and his sons were feuding, this withdrawal may have been as much due to Armenian disunity as any fear of John. A Komnenian era church built within the ruins of the Late Antique Basilica at Hagia Thekla may well date from this period, or soon after, as the Komnenoi had long had a link to St Thekla.43 The first Komnenian Emperor, Isaac I Komnenos, built a chapel to St Thekla at the Blachernai palace in Constantinople in 1059; this chapel is portrayed by Anna as the site of her and John’s grandmother’s moment of triumph, as Anna Dalassene attended the family chapel after she had masterminded the family’s return to the throne.44 Though she died when John was only five, he specifically commemorated her in his monastery of Christ Pantokrator, and this would have been the palace chapel where John lived and grew up, and so now arriving at the ancient site of her death the site makes perfect sense for an expression of imperial patronage, and as a rallying point for his army before it entered Cilicia proper.45 Such late antique sites had been used by tenth- and 42  Chron. 1234, p. 275; Ibn al-­Athir, p. 337. Cf. the capture of the many ports related below. 43 E.  Herzfeld and S.  Guyer, Meriamlik und Korykos; zwei christliche Ruinenstätten des rauhen Kilikiens (Manchester, 1930), pp. 1–89; F. Hild and H. Hellenkemper, Kilikien und Isaurien, TIB, 5.1 (Vienna, 1990), pp. 441–3. Herzfeld and Guyer identify it as ‘Armenian’, only due to its twelfth-­century dating, as architecturally there is nothing distinctively Armenian about it, and the surviving brickwork suggests a structure more in keeping with Komnenian churches. 44  Michael Psellos, Imperatori di Bisanzio (Cronografia), vol. II, ed. S.  Impellizzeri (Vicenza, 1984), pp. 262–70; AK, 3.8, 5–7, pp. 106–8; V. Stanković, ‘Comnenian Monastic Foundations in Constantinople: Questions of Method and Historical Context’, Belgrade Historical Review 2 (2011), p. 51. 45  Pantokrator Typikon, p. 210.

202  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 eleventh-­century armies as staging posts before, and these late antique pilgrimage sites were themselves undergoing a revival in this period as stopping points for the new pilgrims heading east, with the shrine of St Nicholas at Myra also being restored at this time.46 From Seleukeia, what goes unmentioned in any of our sources is that in order for Leon to have attacked Seleukeia at all in 1135, the Armenians are likely to have taken one or both of the twin fortresses of Korykos and Kızkalesi.47 The only source to mention this at all is the oration of Italikos, who briefly mentions that Korykos was overwhelmed by the stones and ‘thunderbolts’ of the Emperor’s siege weapons.48 When I examined these fortresses in 2019, it was evident that the sea castle had been extensively reconstructed by the Armenians in the thirteenth century and later, but there is more debate concerning the dating of the land castles’ fortifications.

Figure 21  Section of the southern walls of the land castle of Korykos, showing the ashlar blocks, spolia, and the rougher-­cut stones. 46  W.  Saunders, ‘Qal’at Seman: A Frontier Fort of the Tenth and Eleventh Centuries’, Armies and Frontiers in Roman and Byzantine Anatolia. Proceedings of a colloquium held at University College, Swansea, in April 1981, ed. S. Mitchell (Oxford, 1983), pp. 291–303; C. Foss, ‘The Lycian Coast in the Byzantine Age’, DOP 48 (1994), pp. 34–5; P.  Mougoyianni, ‘Confrontation and Interchange between Byzantines and Normans in Southern Italy: The Cases of St Nicholas of Myra and St Nicholas the Pilgrim at the End of the 11th Century’, Byzantium in Dialogue with the Mediterranean: History and Heritage, ed. D. Slootjes and M. Verhoeven (Leiden, 2019), p. 121. See further discussion is Chapter Ten. 47  This has been ignored in most secondary literature as well, with the notable exceptions of Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 117 and Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, p. 55. 48 ‘Ἐντεῦθεν ἐπὶ τοὺς Κωρυκαίους Τυφῶνας χωρεῖς, οὓς καὶ κατακεραυνώσας τοῖς σοῖς βέλεσι, βασιλεῦ, καὶ λίθοις καταχώσας ἠφάνισας’, Italikos, ‘Λόγος βασιλικὸς εἰς τὸν αὐτοκράτορα Ἰωάννην’, p. 251.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  203

Figure 22  Both castles seen from Kızkalesi beach, with Korykos (L) and Kızkalesi (R).

Though the northern walls are of the same later Armenian date and design as the sea castle, the southern wall contains a great many examples of spolia and reused ashlar block stones, as well as more roughly quarried stones in assorted sections, as shown in Fig. 21. Most scholars agree that the rough stonework is the work of the eunuch Eustathios, who hurriedly refortified the castle in Alexios’ reign, and that these were therefore the same fortifications overcome by the Armenians, and then encountered by John.49 But there is also the possibility that what we are seeing are the repairs John’s army made after damaging the walls with their siege weapons: with the amount of classical spolia around the site, there would be plenty of building material on hand without resorting to any other form of masonry, and therefore Korykos could easily be an atypical fortification built by John for that reason.50 Either way, the doubtless formidable defences of the double fortress demonstrate how the recapture of Korykos and its harbour was an essential first step for John’s conquest of Cilicia, giving him both a fortified port to ship in further supplies and ship out communiqués to the rest of the empire, and control of the major road between Seleukeia and Tarsus; additionally it demonstrated that no enemy could take imperial territory and hold it for long. John’s exact march from Korykos is less clear. Choniates, Kinnamos, and William of Tyre all tell us that John went straight for the major cities of Cilicia, but do not describe his exact route, or if anything happened to him along that route. The court texts and the Chronicle of 1234, on the other hand, tell us that John’s army saw immediate action as it entered Cilicia. Italikos and Basilakes relate that the army entered Cilicia through a narrow pass ‘above the clouds’, ὑπερνέφελοι, where John’s army was assaulted by missiles launched by those lying in wait to spring ambushes from the mountains, and that John seized an unnamed 49  A. Lawrence, ‘A Skeletal History of Byzantine Fortification’, The Annual of the British School at Athens 78 (1983), p. 179; Foss, and Winfield, Byzantine Fortifications, p. 22; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, pp. 55–6; TIB, 5.1, pp. 315–20. Contra: Edwards, Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia, pp. 161–7. 50 Cf. large sections of the walls of Syedra, Iotape, and Antiocheia-­ad-­Craggum discussed in Chapter Ten, the sites of which contain large amounts of classical stonework from the much larger antique cities that previously stood there.

204  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 fortresses held by unidentified ‘barbarians’.51 This action is first compared to the battle of Thermopylae, though John had to fight many more than 300 to open the pass for his army, with John himself then equated to Theseus defeating the bandits Skironas and Sinis Pitukamptes on the road between Troezen and Athens.52 A section drawing on the Biblical psalms relates that these fortresses fell and their commander was taken by direct assault, though, if a more literal reading is taken, then John may well have captured at least one fortress by leading the enemy out onto open ground where the emperor’s forces could destroy them. The latter sounds very similar to the tactics John used at Sozopolis to lure out the Turkish garrison, but aside from that, this description does not fit the geography of the road from Seleukeia to Tarsus at all: running along the coast, this was certainly not a high road with any lofty fortresses, and does not truly pass through the Taurus mountains. Much better as a fit for these descriptions than the coastal road is the region of the Cilician Gates, which allowed passage through the Taurus mountains, the modern Gülek Pass through the Toros Dağları.53 Though this is certainly not on the Seleukeia–­Tarsus road, it is around 65 kilometres north of Tarsus, and thus less than an hour by car or 14 hours walking, so a few days’ march for an army.  This is the major north-­south pass through the mountains, guarded by a dra­mat­ic­al­ly high castle, Gülek Kalesi, which appears ‘like the nest of some ­prehistoric bird almost 1600m above sea level’, some 2 km southwest of the Gates.54 Though this castle is not mentioned by name in any source until 1199, and the surviving stonework suggests a later Armenian construction for what can be seen today, it is in the position described by Basilakes.55 This identification is also supported by the Anonymous Syriac Chronicle, which (contrary to every other source) informs us that John arrived into Cilicia through the Gates, and then sent a message to the Latins asking for them to pay their respects to him.56 The strategic geography of the area supports this account further, as do further details from Italikos. This fortress secured both the pass and the entrance to this part of Cilicia from the north. Capturing the Gates as well as Korykos before advancing further into Cilicia would grant greater security to this province, demonstrating that John had  learned the lessons of his Paphlagonian campaigns. As with those, Italikos mentions smaller fortresses and engagements that John’s army encountered before the major cities, most of which are at geographically strategic sites such as river crossings and high points, testimony which also supports the proposition that John captured Tarsus only after he had secured the surrounding mountains.

51  NC, p. 21; Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 56; Italikos 43, pp. 249–51. 52 Ibid. 53 Nicolle, Crusader Warfare, p. 190. See Map Five. 54 Edwards, Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia, pp. 138–40; TIB, 5.1, pp. 132 and 323–4. 55 Ibid. 56  Chron. 1234, pp. 275–6.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  205

Figure 23  The Cilician Gates in 1935, from Library of Congress, Control Number 2007675296.

Figure 24  The Cilician Gates, 2019.

206  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 25  (L) Fortress of Gülek Gates (R) view from the narrow path up towards the northern walls.

Italikos tells us that John’s shots (or arrows or other missiles) were well aimed against ‘watchful Askora’, where the ‘first of the spoils of Cilicia’ were seized.57 There was also a skirmish when a troop of cavalry crossed the River Lamos (the modern Limonlu), which is located just east of the fortress of Korykos ‘which was struck with the thunderbolts of [John’s] missiles . . . and destroyed with stones’.58 The only known Askora is located two hours’ drive south-­ west of Lake Beyşehir, and just north-­west of the Cilician Gates.59 Though another, unknown, Askora could exist in the vicinity of Tarsus, it seems more likely that John sent a detachment further north to seize a rich prize that would provide him with a small foothold north of the mountains, where a substantial Christian presence lived still according to records of Cappadocian bishops in the region who were tried for heresy in 1143; evidence which implies some level of imperial authority in the region.60 Together with his later campaign towards Neakaisareia, such arrangements provide additional evidence of John’s broader design to surround central Anatolia, though without a clearer identification we should be wary of hypothesizing too far, given the single mention only of this site of ‘Askora’. The skirmish on the Lamos is more informative, however, as its location east of Korykos tells us that John was advancing eastwards towards Tarsus, though this skirmish involving a flying column may well have taken place while the main 57 ‘τίς τὰ κατὰ τὴν Ἄσκοραν εὔσκοπά σου τοξεύματα ἢ τὴν ἐκεῖθεν αἰχμαλωσίαν καὶ τὰ πρῶτα τῆς Κιλικίας λάφυρα καὶ πρωτόλεια;’ Italikos 43, p. 251. 58 ‘Ἐντεῦθεν ἐπὶ τοὺς Κωρυκαίους Τυφῶνας χωρεῖς, οὓς καὶ κατακεραυνώσας τοῖς σοῖς βέλεσι, βασιλεῦ, καὶ λίθοις καταχώσας ἠφάνισας’, and ‘δι᾽ ὦν τὰς ἀνέκαθεν πόλεις Ῥωμαίων πάλαι προηρπαγμένας ἐπανασῴζεις, καὶ οἶά τις θεὸς ἀπό τινος αἰμαλωσίας πολυχρονίου πάρει ταύτας ἀναρρυόμενος;’, ibid. 59  W.  Ramsay, ‘Pisidia and the Lycaonian Frontier’, The Annual of the British School at Athens 9 (1902–1903), p. 249; W. Ramsay, ‘Lycaonian and Phrygian Notes (continued)’, The Classical Review 19 (1905), p. 426. The TIB lists the location of Askora as unknown, TIB, 5.1, pp. 199–200. 60 Ramsay, Geography of Asia Minor, pp. 293–4, 356; TIB, 2, pp. 272–3; NC, pp. 51–2; RP V, pp.  85–7; Les Regestes des actes du Patriarchat de Constantinople I, p. 1012; Italikos 44, p. 292; J. Gouillard, ‘Quatre proces de mystiques à Byzance (vers 960–1143): Inspiration et autorité’, REB 36 (1978), pp. 39–43, 68–81; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 276–7; Angold, Church and Society, p. 491; Roskilly, Les évêques et leur autorité, esp. 300.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  207 army with John was further north. It is related by Italikos straight after the seizing of the Gates, and it is followed by a reference to the River Kydnus (the modern River Berdan or Tarsus). There follows an account of how John rescued from captivity the ancient cities of the Romans, meaning that with western Cilicia under control, he had at last arrived at Tarsus, famous as the birthplace of St Paul and the place where Mark Antony and Cleopatra first met.61 The Anonymous Chronicle records that Raymond of Antioch and Joscelin of Edessa responded to John’s call for the Latins to do homage, and that John was overjoyed to receive them near Tarsus, before he took the city.62 Al-­Azimi also relates that Raymond organized a visit to Tarsus. Since it seems unlikely that the prince or princes would come in person across the chaotic lands of Cilicia, it is more likely that John received some ambassadors here.63 It also means the Chronicle aligns with the contemporary rhetorical sources regarding the sequence of John’s conquest. Either way, Italikos and Basilakes tell us that John asked the inhabitants of Tarsus to surrender, calling on their shared Christianity as well as notifying them they were surrounded. They refused, and so he brought up siege weapons. A barrage of missiles convinced them to surrender, at which point John is said to have treated them well, making them allies, ‘σύμμαχοι’.64 This seems to have been John’s favoured approach throughout this campaign—­a display of strength, ideal­ly accomplished with siege weapons and thus with no loss of his soldiers, followed by clemency and peaceful absorption of his former enemy. Italikos notes the contrast between the admirable John and the comparatively flawed Alexander the Great, who had killed everyone when he took a city that resisted him.65 Our two rhetors then tell us that though the city of Tarsus surrendered, the garrison retreated to the acropolis, which acted as their ‘final anchor’.66 Basilakes’ account is far longer, which he uses to draw out details such as the garrison being made up of heavily armoured, arrogant barbarians, who resisted their lawful emperor despite being the ‘countrymen of St Paul’.67 Both he and Italikos note that siege weapons had to be brought up again to cow them into submission, but in Italikos’ oration he specifically credits John’s son and co-­emperor Alexios with setting up the siege weapons.68 John and Alexios are specifically likened to Herakles and Iolaus, who together cut off the many heads of the Hydra. This section highlights that the young Alexios, like the young John while his father still 61  Italikos 43, p. 252. 62  Chron. 1234, p. 276. 63  al-­Azimi, p. 138. 64 ‘ὤ μάχης ὁμαιχμίας ἀπογεννώσης καὶ μαιευομένης τὸ φίλιον’ is also used a description for John’s new relationship with Tarsus by Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 59, with Basilakes noting the city gates being opened for the emperor as he delivers the city from tyrants on p. 57; Italikos 43, p. 252. 65  Italikos 43, p. 252. 66 ‘Τελευταία τούτοις ἡ ἀκρόπολις ἄγκυρα’, ibid., pp. 251–2. The Gautier edition falsely capitalizes ἄγκυρα, leading to the impression that a city called Ankyra was also taken, leading to the reference in the TIB of a phantom Ankyra in the region: TIB, 5.1, p. 191. With thanks to Paul Magdalino for ­pointing this out. The acropolis is also referenced by Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 58. 67 Basilakes, Or. 1, pp. 57–8. 68  Italikos 43, p. 251.

208  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 lived, was earning his own spurs through battlefield command; the court texts were beginning to take note, in preparation for John’s eventual passing, and we see this again below when Alexios is tasked to seize the castle of Gastin. Further, it highlights how military operations were not only carried out by John himself but frequently delegated down the chain of command, as will be discussed further in Chapter Ten. Finally, it once more illustrates that John’s conquest faced more resistance than the later written chroniclers relate. Despite this resistance, the capture of Tarsus and subsequent benevolent treatment of its citizens led to further fortified settlements falling to John’s army without a fight. Adana and Mopsuestia, located not far from each other, surrendered and John ‘received their weapons’; Tarsus, and by implication the others also, are characterized as going from enemies to friends in our court sources, implying that a contingent of troops from the garrison joined John’s army.69 Tarsus and Adana’s location on the plain made them easy targets for John’s siege weapons, but it is much more striking that Mopsuestia also surrendered.70 Though the city was on the plain, the citadel is located on a forbidding ridgeline as the Adanan plain gives way to the foothills of the Taurus mountains. This citadel could have given John trouble had it stood against him, but the mix of his intimidating army and the favourable treatment of those who had previously surrendered (the texts do not state whether the city of Mopsuestia surrendered before the citadel, though it appears likely) won John the castle without a fight. Other fortresses were soon to fall in a similar way, but first John had to deal with the capital of Armenian Cilicia: the fortress city of Anazarbos. How he got there is related differently by each source, as this table outlines.71 Choniates

Kinnamos

William of Tyre and the Court Texts

Adana

Mopsuestia

Tarsus

Tarsus

Tarsus

Adana

Adana

Mopsuestia

Figure 26  Cilician campaign order according to each source. 69 ‘ὤ μάχης ὁμαιχμίας ἀπογεννώσης καὶ μαιευομένης τὸ φίλιον’, Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 59. The quotation regarding the weapons specifically refers to Mopsuestia, but by extension to all the cities in that area, ‘Μόψου πόλεις ὅπλοις ἐλάμβανες’, Italikos 43, p. 252; Chron. 1234, p. 276. For the fortress at Mopsuestia, see: Edwards, Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia, pp. 198–200. 70  For Tarsus, only the classical ‘Cleopatra’ Gate survives to be seen easily in the modern era, which if typical of the fortifications as a whole suggests that they would not have held John for long, though admittedly the city was supposedly extensively fortified in the eighth century by Caliph Harun al-­Rashid, though what survived of these fortifications by John’s time is unclear (see TIB, 5.1, p. 436). Therefore, it makes sense that only the citadel resisted for long, though nothing of that remains today. The medieval castle at Adana too has also seemingly been destroyed by modern developments, but from its supposed location could also not have been on any natural defensive site of particular merit, see: TIB, 5.1, pp. 156–8. 71  NC, pp. 21, 25; JK, p. 16; William of Tyre, 14.24, p. 663. See Map Five.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  209 William’s account is the most logical order of attack as it runs from west to east, and considering that this order is backed by the court texts as well, it should be taken as the most likely sequence. As John and Alexios advanced that spring and summer, news of their c­ onquests reached Antioch. In response, an alliance was made between the still captive Leon of Cilicia and Raymond of Antioch to resist the emperor, on certain conditions: Leon would hand back his conquests on the plain (Mopsuestia, Adana, and Sarventikar) along with a cash sum, leave his sons as hostages, and ally with Raymond against John.72 Whether Leon was released on these terms at this point, and whether he actually handed over these cities or hostages to Raymond before John conquered and captured them, goes unstated by the texts. It seems unlikely given the time scale, even if Leon did mean to fulfil his promise.73 Tarsus and Anazarbos are notably not in this list, confirming our court texts which state that these cities were intended to remain in the hands of the Latins and Armenians, respectively: until John arrived.74 Anazarbos was the most crucial fortress city the emperor had had to take to secure his rule over the Armenian inhabitants of Cilicia. All our sources have a moment of rare agreement in describing it. This was, without doubt, the most important military and political centre in Cilicia at that time, protected not only by high walls on a hill but with siege engines atop those walls and well trained and equipped men within.75 Choniates describes the opening engagement: John sent forward a Turkish division, which had recently taken part in the conquest of Gangra, to ascertain where the loyalties of the Armenians lay.76 Though we cannot know whether John knew the details of Leon and Raymond’s recent alliance, it is possible this was the first Armenian stronghold he had encountered, or at least the first one loyal to Leon. So, a peaceful absorption of Leon’s Armenians back into the empire was a possibility just as Uroš of Raška had sworn to the imperial cause once John brought force to bear. Whether John was misguided to use the Turks, or the Armenians were determined to resist him, this Turkish division was set upon by a sally from those inside the city. This force defeated the Turkish division and pursued them, only retreating when confronted by the remainder of John’s army.77

72  Smbat Sparapet, p. 53. Al-­Azimi relates that Leon’s son at least attempted to pay a ransom, ­al-­Azimi, p. 138. 73 The Anonymous Syriac Chronicle tells us Leon was not released until after John arrived at Antioch; see below regarding the fate of Leon according to our various sources. 74  The rulers of Tarsus are noted by Basilakes to be a mixture of Cilicia’s ‘ancient citizens and remaining natives’ and ‘Kelts’. Italikos is not as clear, but he mentions poetically that John went from ‘barbarian Kelts to barbarian Armenians, from Tarsus to Anazarbos’: Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 57; Italikos 43, p. 251. 75  NC, p. 25; JK, p. 17; William of Tyre, 14.24, p. 663; Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 60; Italikos 43, p. 254; Edwards, Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia, pp. 65–72; TIB, 5.1, pp. 178–85. 76  NC, p. 25. 77  Ibid., pp. 25–6.

210  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 27  (Left) Mopsuestia from the west, taken from a modern farmers field (Right), Mopsuestia main gate from the north end looking south, with the modern Ceyhan River, the classical Pyramos, below. Cf. TIB 5.1, pp. 355–8.

Figure 28  The ‘main route’ up from the lower to the upper city of Anazarbos consists of these narrow, steep steps, which even when new, would have been treacherous to assault under any kind of fire.

The emperor, therefore, brought siege weapons up. But, unlike other cities, the Armenians within Anazarbos launched missiles back: not only stones to kill John’s soldiers but also burning pellets to set fire to his siege engines.78 Choniates also tells us that they sallied out again to destroy yet more siege engines, and taunted John from the walls.79 In light of the terrain, John likely set up his siege 78  JK, p. 17; Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 60; Italikos 43, p. 254.

79  NC, p. 26.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  211

Figure 29  (L): The alternative approach to Anazarbos from the south-­east, but even after the ruins of at least one defensive wall, the jagged rock forms a natural obstacle to anyone crossing this land even in 2019, let alone while under fire during John’s assault.

Figure 30  Komnenian brick courses at Anazarbos: these are common at a handful of specific sections along the upper city walls, and so are most likely to represent later rebuilt sections where John breached the walls.

212  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 31  Anazarbos in 1861, V. Langlois, Voyage dans la Cilicie et dans les montagnes du Taurus, exécuté pendant les années 1852–1853 par ordre de l’Empereur (Paris, 1861), p. 507. Aside from the modern village, much of this remained in 2019 in more ruined form.

weapons up on the south-­eastern slope, where a small sortie by the defenders could cross the broken ground, wreak havoc, and return before any response from the rest of the army camped on the plain below could reach them. Kinnamos relates how this sally initially dismayed John, until his son Isaac suggested that the siege engines should be covered by brick hoardings to stop them being set alight by the Armenian missiles.80 The same strategy is mentioned by Choniates, Italikos, and Basilakes, though they give John the credit for the ploy.81 With his siege weapons secured, John was able to breach the walls of Anazarbos in mul­ tiple places, and though Kinnamos merely says the defenders surrendered, both Italikos and Choniates refer to a retreat to the citadel, with Choniates referring to two assaults before they too surrendered.82 With the capture of Anazarbos, Leon’s wife and children fell into John’s hands, though the sources disagree on whether Leon himself was present. Kinnamos and Choniates do not mention him either way, while the continuation of Matthew of Edessa by Gregory the Priest notes that he was captured (along with a famous icon of the Virgin that had originally belonged to the Byzantines), and Italikos’ oration states he escaped.83 Alternatively, he may not have been present at all, and was taken only with the later capture of Vakha, or he may have come to the 80  JK, p. 17; Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 60; Italikos 43, p. 254. 81 Ibid.; NC, p. 26. 82 Ibid.; JK, p. 17. 83  Italikos mentions that Leon escapes while his family was seized: Italikos 43, pp. 255–6. Gregory the Priest, p. 241.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  213 Emperor voluntarily; the majority of sources written nearest to these events tell us that Leon escaped, and so his capture by John will be related below.84 All our sources bar Basilakes, Kinnamos, and Ibn al-­Athir then record that John continued towards Antioch after the capture of Anazarbos. Basilakes’ oration becomes woefully unspecific after Anazarbos, mentioning no city by name until John’s triumphal entry to Antioch after his Syrian campaign, though his oblique references correspond with other accounts.85 Kinnamos alone mentions that John intended to lay siege to Vakha, one of the last major Armenian strongholds left in Cilicia, but on hearing Raymond had returned to Antioch from the kingdom of Jerusalem decided he should go straight there and take Vakha later.86 Ibn al-­Athir mentions that John also seized the strong fortress of Tell Hamdun (modern Toprakkale).87 One of the few fortified hilltops in what is otherwise rich, flat, farmland, located at the confluence of routes between Anazarbos, Mopsuestia, Sarventikar, and Alexandretta, Tell Hamdun was an essential addition to John’s conquests. Ibn al-­Athir also relates that John relocated its inhabitants to Cyprus, presumably replacing them with a Greek garrison. Cyprus had had an Armenian community for the last few centuries, and it was to grow further as the twelfth century progressed, indicating that John may have relocated an entire community here in addition to just a garrison.88 Specifically, it is consistent with John’s previous relocations of nomadic, Serb, and Turkic peoples after his victories against them.89 Equally, it once more testifies to the support John received on this campaign from the imperial navy, which would have transported this community to Cyprus. The decision to go to Antioch at this point demonstrates that John believed his conquest of Cilicia to be relatively secure. In leaving Cilicia, he was comfortable allowing not only at least one hostile Armenian fortress to remain at his back (two by Kinnamos’ reckoning, including the fortress of Kapniskerti), and possibly Leo at large, but also the recently conquered cities the loyalty of which, even with new imperial garrisons and commanders, would have been suspect at best.90 84  He came voluntarily to the emperor after the capture of his family according to Smbat Sparapet, p. 53, though this happened only after John had also captured Vakha on his return from Syria. Matthew of Edessa also implies John only removed Leon from Cilicia after returning from Syria: Mat. Ed., p. 239. The Anonymous Syriac Chronicle tells us Leon was only released from Antioch after John arrived there, at which point he voluntarily came to John as a supplicant, though it then relates that Leon, his sons and household were sent to Constantinople. Chron. 1234, p. 276. 85 Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 71. 86  NC, p. 27; JK, p. 18; Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 62; Italikos 43, pp. 257–9. 87  10 km east of the modern town of Osmaniye; Ibn al-­Athir, p. 337; Edwards, Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia, pp. 244–53, 242, n. 9; TIB, 5.1, pp. 445–7. 88 For an overview, see: S.  Kasbarian and A.  Gorman, ‘The “Others” Within: The Armenian Community in Cyprus’, Diasporas of the Modern Middle East (Edinburgh, 2015), pp. 241–73; A-­M. Hadjilyra, The Armenians of Cyprus (Nicosia, 2009), pp. 9–11. 89  Cf. Chapter Five and Chapter Seven. 90  JK, p. 20; a new commander for Anazarbos is implied in Italikos 43, p. 155. A garrison at Adana is mentioned by the Chron. 1234, p. 276.

214  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 32  Fortress of Tell Hamdun (Toprakkale). It is surrounded by rich farmland on all sides, and is on one of the few hills along the road in what is otherwise the last of the Adanan plain before the foothills. The Amanus pass is to the south and the Tauros mountains to the north, and still in 2019 it is at the crossroads of major roads in the area going in all directions.

Though Basilakes mentions certain ‘natives’ who welcomed the emperor, John must have been proactive in undertaking other initiatives to gain these cities’ ­loyalty.91 Though it has been suggested that John may have played certain noble families off against each other based on later events, none of our contemporary sources detail him doing so.92 What they do outline is how John restored order to the region, and how he engaged with the Armenian and Syriac churches. It should first be appreciated that this region had not had a united, stable administration for fifty years. Italikos and Choniates are expansive in describing how John ‘moved barbarians and mountains, showing his right hand mightier than the mountains are secure . . . /placing stele’ and clearing the roads of bandits as Theseus did.93 As in Paphlagonia, John not only captured fortified points, providing islands of imperial authority in a sea of lawlessness but made the efforts required to clear the countryside and bring security to the entire province, a pol­ icy clearly articulated by Basilakes.94 Consequently, it should be expected that after so many years of chaos the region would welcome a return to order, and it is noteworthy that there is also a significant increase in the number of coins minted

91 Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 57; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 118. 92 Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 37, n. 30; Edwards, Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia, p. 6. The following section follows: Lau, ‘Dream come True?’, pp. 169–70. 93  Italikos 43, p. 250; Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 56. 94 Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 57; Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, p. 98.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  215 in this period.95 Though this can be partially explained by the requirements of the army, this increase above all provides evidence for how John sought to reintegrate this province economically as well. There was, however, one remaining roadblock before Cilicia could be fully absorbed: the non-­ Chalcedonian Christians of Cilicia. Towards that end, the texts from the time and some from after this period describe a policy of tolerance and rapprochement, though some of our later sources also describe harsher measures to bring the Armenians under imperial control. As mentioned in Chapter One, Matthew of Edessa holds a positive opinion of John that is derived in no small part from his benevolent treatment of the Armenians. In addition to the merciful treatment given to the inhabitants of  captured cities, Matthew specifically gives the example of a favourable ­religious pol­icy.96 He records that John’s father Alexios had enacted a policy of re-­baptizing Armenian Christians, which John gained Armenian goodwill for reversing.97 Matthew’s depiction is corroborated by one piece of direct evidence that demonstrates John reaching out to the Armenian ecclesiastical establishment: a profession of faith written by the Armenian Katholikos Grigor III Pahlavuni (in office 1113–66), to the emperor, which the opening of the letter declares was requested by John himself.98 Though unfortunately we cannot date this letter more spe­cif­ic­al­ly, there is no reason to date it to before John’s arrival in Cilicia, and so it is likely to be from between 1137 and 1143. This text deals mainly with the Armenian understanding of the nature of Christ and the Trinity, and it has been suggested that there was a lost second letter which dealt with issues of rites, customs, and traditions.99 The text survives in what is likely a fourteenthor fifteenth-­century manuscript, with a number of scribal additions from the same period.100 The original twelfth-­ century introduction summarizes the entire letter, and is very complimentary to John. It uses not only stock phrases praising the emperor’s piety but also compares the katholikos’ intelligence as a drop in the ocean compared to the emperor’s, and as a star beside the sun; Grigor writes, however, that he hopes that by quoting the church fathers and

95  DOC, p. 97; Hendy, Coinage and Money, pp. 107–8; Papadopoulou, ‘Monetary Policy’, pp. 185–99. 96  Mat. Ed., p. 225. 97  Aristenos’ commentary on canon 95 of the Council in Trullo (692) goes into detail concerning when it was appropriate to re-­baptize heretics, or when simply sealing their faith in an orthodox church was acceptable, suggesting that a revision of the policy was enacted in this period, especially as Basilakes’ oration refers to easterners receiving the name of Christians through the ‘σφραγῖδα πολύτιμον’: ‘the much-­revered seal’ which surely refers to chrismation, the eastern equivalent of the  Church sacrament of Confirmation, rather than requiring baptism as well. Aristenos, ‘Synopsis canonum’, pp. 196–7; Basilakes, Or. 1 p. 71. 98  J. Darrouzès, ‘Trois Documents de la controverse Gréco-­Arménienne’, REB 48 (1990), p. 133. 99  Ibid., pp. 94–5. 100  The text is only preserved in one manuscript, Athen. gr. 375, f. 234–237, and Darrouzès judges a later date as more likely due to the content of the scribal additions. Ibid., p. 90.

216  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 the holy canons the truth can shine through, heavily implying that this approach would prove the Armenians orthodox in the emperor’s eyes.101 The profession of faith that follows is suitably orthodox to a Chalcedonian reader, such that the later scribal addition notes that the Armenians have written about the two natures of Christ correctly [εὐσεβῶς], but he adds they have only done this to be cunning, or in fear of the emperor, rather than because they actually believed this.102 For the purposes of establishing ecumenical relations under John, however, it would seem that the katholikos went to great pains to demonstrate his orthodoxy to the emperor, and that if believed this declaration of faith would have been accepted as orthodox. The conclusion here must be that John and the Armenian Church were engaged in negotiations for at least an accommodation, if not reunification, and that this policy of rapprochement must have given John the assurances he needed before he pressed on to Antioch and Syria. This conclusion is supported by evidence from Anonymous Syriac Chronicle, which relates that the Syrian Jacobite Christians of Adana rejoiced to be under ‘Greek’ rule as they were freed from the severe taxes of the Latins.103 Equally, it should not be forgotten that Michael the Syrian’s main source on John’s activities appears to have been a Syrian Jacobite bishop, Basil of Edessa.104 Thus, John is remembered for treating the Syrians well in Adana, and appears to have had no problem with non-­Chalcedonian Christians either in his retinue, or communicating with their fellow clerics. The links between John and Edessa went even further as well, as shall be discussed further below. Further evidence from after John’s reign does, however, provide more of a mixed picture. Odo of Deuil’s notoriously anti-­Byzantine account of the Second Crusade tells us that John replaced the Latin bishops of Tarsus and Mopsuestia with ‘heretic bishops’, while the later twelfth-­century work of the Armenian Nerses of Lampron also refers to the removal of the Latin bishop of Anazarbos.105 Though there is no direct evidence of a similar removal of Armenian bishops, we can presume that John was installing bishops loyal to Constantinople. Indeed, Nerses records that the replacement bishop was given an income from the country, implying an imperial stipend, and so John was certainly restoring a Greek ecclesiastical hierarchy in the province, which may have raised tensions with the Armenians. The relocation of the Armenians at Tell Hamdun was also not an act of an entirely kindly conqueror, and more specifically Nerses’ only other mention 101  Ibid., p. 133. 102 ‘δόλῳ τυχὸν ἢ φόβῳ τοῦ βασιλέως’, ibid., 145. 103  Chron. 1234, p. 276. 104  Mich. Syr. 15.12, p. 207; tr. p. 616; Spinei, ‘Michael the Syrian’, p. 195. 105  Tarsus and Mopsuestia: ‘Prius cepit Tarsum et Mamistrum et castella plurima terramque latissimam, expulsisque catholicis episcopis urbium et haereticis substitutis’, Odo of Deuil, pp. 68–9. Odo relates this information as part of bishop Godfrey of Langres’ speech against the Greeks when the army of Louis VII camped outside Constantinople; Anazarbos: Nerses of Lambron, ‘Reflexions sur les institutions de l’église et explication du mystère de la messe’, RHC Documents Arméniens I (1869), p. 577; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 119.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  217 of the Greeks under John is far from complimentary. He tells us that at this time the Greeks devastated many convents and churches, broke crosses, and dealt terrible blows to the Armenians.106 This mixed evidence is not necessarily contradictory: John could well have personally engaged in dialogue with the Armenian katholikos and ordered captured cities to be treated well, while his sub-­commanders and soldiers could well have carried out atrocities. This could well have occurred without his knowledge, or simply breaches of discipline among his soldiers, or John may have permitted a level of harsh treatment as a warning for what could happen if the Armenians did not side with him. This conquest and its aftermath could also have been a turning point in relations from Alexios’ policy of forced conversions, as after John we find Manuel actively working towards reunification with both the Armenian church and the Syrian Jacobites too, with Nerses being one of the proponents of reunification.107 Nerses was, indeed, bishop of Tarsus in 1176 and so forty years after John’s conquest we find the churches continuing to engage in dialogue on reunification, with accommodation being reached in the meantime. A deep, long-­ lasting schism dating back to the fifth century could not be solved in a few years, but John was a great supporter of these initiatives with the Latin church, as we shall see in Chapter Eleven. His initiatives among the Armenians and Syrians therefore look like the opening moves for the same policy of rapprochement with the eastern churches. Between these olive branches, his overwhelming military force and the accompanying return to order, John accomplished a lighting conquest of Cilicia. It had not been a completely effortless conquest, and indeed the following year would immediately put John’s hold on Cilicia to the test, but it had been successful enough that he was able to continue eastwards towards Antioch.

The Emperor Arrives at Antioch William of Tyre tells us that by late summer 1137, John’s forces were already blockading the city of Antioch.108 This is not unlikely, as Italikos’ oration praises the young Alexios for capturing the city of Gastin, located just south of the Syrian 106 I.  Augé, ‘Convaincre ou contraindre: la politique religieuse des Comnènes à l’égard des Arméniens et des Syriaques Jacobites’, REB 60 (2002), p. 136, citing: G. Dédéyan, Les pouvoirs arméniens dans le Proche-­Orient méditerranéen (1068–1144) (unpublished doctoral thesis, Paris, 1990), p. 692. Guevara, Aftershocks of Byzantium, p. 20. No mention is made of the treatment of the Syrian Jacobite Christians to corroborate this. 107  Ibid. Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 75–6, n. 189; Also V. Nersessian, ‘Armenian-­Byzantine Church Relations at the time of the Cilician Kingdom’, Treasures from the Ark: 1700 Years of Armenian Christian Art (London, 2001), pp. 48–51; A. Terian, ‘To Byzantium with Love: The Overtures of Saint Nerses the Gracious’, Armenian Cilicia, ed. R.  Hovannisian and S.  Payaslian (Costa Mesa, 2008), pp. 131–52. 108  William of Tyre, 14.24, p. 663 and 14.26, p. 666.

218  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Gates (the Belen Pass), from the ‘Kelts’.109 John therefore sent his son and co-­ emperor with a division of the army to secure the gateway to Syria while he was still occupied in Cilicia, just as Alexios had operated independently when he captured the acropolis at Tarsus. This decision demonstrates unequivocally that John had no intention of halting his campaign after the conquest of Cilicia. A thorough analysis of events does, however, demonstrate that his exact intentions in Syria were less clear, and no one could be sure whether the emperor came as conqueror or saviour. Despite the ‘blockade’, Raymond had answered a call for aid from King Fulk of Jerusalem. The king was being besieged with many of the other nobles of the kingdom in the castle of Montferrard by Imad ad-­Din Zengi, Atabeg of Mosul and Aleppo.110 According to William, on hearing of the approach of Raymond and Joscelin II of Edessa with a relief army, in addition to learning that the emperor was in Antioch and fearing that he might also descend upon him, Zengi gave Fulk terms of surrender such that he and his men could leave as long as they gave up the castle. Fulk, oblivious to the approaching reinforcements, accepted. Raymond then hurriedly returned to Antioch, and according to Kinnamos he encountered Roman scouts en route who almost captured or killed him, an anecdote that again confirms that imperial troops were in the area.111

Figure 33  Gastin, also referred to as Baghras, castle. Though ensconced in the hills, looking in the other direction east from the castle are the flat plains of Syria, and behind this castle are the narrow passes leading west to Alexandretta (İskenderun) and Antioch (Antakya). 109 ‘ἡ πόλις Αἱ Γάστουναι’, Italikos 43, pp. 258–9. 110  William of Tyre, 14.24, p. 663 and 14.26, p. 666.

111  JK, p. 17.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  219

Figure 34  Early nineteenth-­century drawing of the Syrian Gates (Belen Pass) looking westwards towards the coast near Alexandretta. The modern road goes over the mountains, but the pass is still to be seen westwards beyond Gastin castle, which is at the eastern end of this pass. Drawing from W. Bartlett, Syria, The Holy Land, Asia Minor &c. Illustrated, vol. I (London, 1836).

Both Kinnamos and William of Tyre describe skirmishes between imperial troops and the Antiochenes, as the forces of the principality barred the gates, and those of the empire camped close to the river Orontes, though whether John ­himself was with the army when it first arrived is not stated specifically.112 Where William refers in general terms to sallies, Kinnamos relates a specific incident where imperial soldiers were picking fruit in the orchards when the Antiochenes attacked them; when reinforcements arrived, the Latins retreated to  the city, leaving the Romans to begin siege operations.113 William describes how war engines threw giant stones, while archers and slingers picked out targets on the walls as they scouted for places to undermine the defences.114 Italikos by comparison relates no battle, but that John did ‘throw lightning as a hurricane’ causing the Latins to run and hide, perhaps implying the use of siege weapons.115 112  Foss and Winfield, Byzantine Fortifications, pp. 216–17 and 224. 113  William of Tyre, 14.30, p. 670; JK, p. 18. 114  Ibid. If John’s troops crossed the river either to the west or east then there are sections of the walls where undermining would have been viable, see Fig. 35, though neither would have been an easy option. Still, this might explain Basilakes’ account of a battle over the river. Analysis of John’s siege weapons and these passages of William have been made in: M. Fulton, Artillery in the Era of the Crusades: Siege Warfare and the Development of Trebuchet Technology (Leiden, 2018), pp. 105–7. 115  Italikos 43, pp. 259–60.

220  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 35  Early nineteenth-­century drawing of Antioch looking south over the Orontes, and thus the view that would have confronted John’s armies, but with the river walls still standing. Drawing from Bartlett, Syria.

Figure 36  The other alternative for John was the southern pass, guarded by the Iron Gates, seen here during fieldwork in 2019. Neither an assault north over the Orontes or south through these gates would be easy if John decided to take the military option.

No texts specifies when exactly John took charge, whether he left Vakha unconquered at news of Raymond’s return, or merely at news that hostilities were es­cal­ at­ing, and indeed whether John himself ordered siege operations to commence or they were already in progress before he arrived. In many ways this Antioch leg of the campaign was a continuation of operations in Cilicia, with Raymond allied with Leon against him. Throughout this campaign, John had allowed cities to surrender in exchange for allegiance, and even when he was forced to attack a city, he

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  221 treated its inhabitants well. John’s goal was to bring both Cilicia and Antioch into the empire, preferably with no bloodshed but the threat was always there. This goal is presented clearly by Ibn Al-­Athir, who additionally notes that John had the harbour at Alexandretta repaired.116 As the principal port of Antioch, it was unlikely to have been damaged unless the Antiochenes had done so themselves to prevent John from receiving naval support; whether it was damaged or not, John’s rebuilding tells us he was setting down roots to enforce his dominion over the principality. This also reinforces both Ibn al-­Athir and the Chronicle of 1234 in the claim that John’s baggage and equipment for the expedition were carried by ship. William and Kinnamos tell us that these hostilities took place over several days, during which Raymond often went to the emperor and requested a ­com­prom­ise whereby he would swear his allegiance in exchange for being able to rule the city in John’s name.117 He was unsuccessful in this until a council of the Romans decided to accept.118 Though John’s standard practice of campaigning with most of the imperial elite gave them a shared corporate identity through the  army, bringing such company carried with it the associated politics of the im­per­ial court, and it can be assumed that two factions formed over whether to seize Antioch militarily or seek diplomatic options.119 Due to a combination of the skirmish on the river, the artillery barrage, and the nobles who spoke for peace on both sides, John and Raymond finally made common cause without further bloodshed. If John had taken the military option, he might have not only lost a great many troops but also had to deal with a hostile populace. Further, there would have been consequences for his relations with other Latin powers both east and west that would require troops that he seems to have preferred to use against the Muslims of Syria. A new agreement was signed between the rulers, the salient points of which are related by both contemporary court texts and William of Tyre. William states that a ceremony was held in John’s camp, in the presence of the emperor and the ‘illustrious and distinguished nobles 116  Ibn al-­Athir, p. 337. 117  JK, p. 19; William of Tyre, 14.30, p. 671. 118  Orderic presents a different version, whereby Raymond leads a daring assault on John’s camp that caused the emperor to retreat, but then realized that John’s claim was true and so yielded to him—­an unnamed Frank then began negotiations: Ord. Vit., pp. 502–9, vi pp. 502–9; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 121. 119  Those present include John’s sons Alexios and Isaac, as well as Andronikos (who is mentioned as having been on this campaign in the monody by Italikos); Manuel is not mentioned in the contemporary poem but his presence is claimed in an oration by Italikos after he came to the throne: Italikos 44, pp. 284–6. William of Tyre and Basilakes later refer to all the sons being present at the Triumph in Antioch: William of Tyre, p. 97; John’s nephew Bishop Adrian Komnenos accompanies John ‘as Aaron followed Moses’ according to Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 44. Italikos wrote letters to both Megas Domestikos Axouch and Logothetes ton Dromon Meles, while both Anna and Prodromos attest Kaisar Nikephoros Bryennios as being present in the context of his catching an illness at Antioch that would later lead to his death: Italikos 11, 37, 39, 40, pp. 130–34, 222–4, 229–30, 232–3, respectively; AK, Prologue 1.1, pp. 7–8; Prodromos, IXXXX, lines 171–2. John’s sons, brothers, sons-­in-­law, and whole court are ­mentioned as present in the Chron. 1234, p. 276.

222  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 of the imperial palace’, but giving due honour to Raymond. Three things were certainly agreed: first, that Raymond would swear allegiance and fealty to John and his heirs; second, that whenever the emperor might wish to enter Antioch or its citadel, in peace or war, he would be granted access. Third and most im­port­ ant­ly, it was agreed that Aleppo, Shayzar, Hama, and Homs would be given to Raymond, and he would relinquish Antioch in its entirety to John. In return, John would allow Raymond and his heirs to hold that territory as a perpetual fief, as a vassal of the Empire.120 The twelfth-­century chronicler Ibn al-­Qalanisi gives us a fourth clause: Raymond had to allow a Greek patriarch in Antioch, a condition that occasioned the Latin patriarch Ralph of Domfront to fall out with Raymond, and Raymond to imprison him and plunder his house.121 This event is also recorded by al-­Azimi, though he does not relate what prompted it, only that the Latins did for a time trust in a Roman patriarch, though then reconsidered that decision.122 This religious condition is corroborated by the fact that John had maintained titular patriarchs of both Antioch and Jerusalem in Constantinople. For example, Patriarch John V had been replaced after his death in 1134, just a few years before, by a certain Patriarch Luke.123 As with Cilicia, John intended to bring Antioch back into the empire, and restoring a Greek ecclesiastical hierarchy was a crucial step in that process, perhaps acting as a bridgehead before further imperial administrators could be installed.124 Aside from al-­Azimi, there is no specific mention of Ralph being replaced, and so some sort of compromise may have been proposed that was still unacceptable to the Latin patriarch.125 This policy was to have repercussions the following year for John, but for now, Raymond was willing to arrest the Latin patriarch. With this agreement, John was welcomed by Raymond into the city, and the imperial banner was flown at the citadel. John gave rich gifts to Raymond, and our court sources note enthusiasm from both the Antiochene lords and the general populace.126 They were presumably 120  William of Tyre, 14.30, p. 671. Italikos alludes to the treaty by reporting how the emperor compensated the Latins for the cities taken away from them with other cities captured from their enemies, in addition to gifts. Italikos 43, p. 261. The Anonymous Syriac Chronicle conflates the agreement and John’s later demand to use the Antioch citadel for his treasure and baggage, but it also mentions that this treasure was collateral: part of an agreement whereby John would give Raymond territories that they would take from the Muslims, though the exact cities are not mentioned. The Chronicle also mentions that Raymond did not like this plan, though he and supposedly Joscelin too paid homage to John in his camp anyway. Chron. 1234, p. 276. Basilakes merely has the ruler of Antioch decline to offer resistance due to his amazement at John’s conquest and become an ally: Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 63. 121  Ibn al-­Qalanisi, p. 245. 122  al-­Azimi, p. 141. 123  Grumel, ‘Les patriarches grecs d’Antioche du nom de Jean’, pp. 279–99; Grumel, ‘Notes pour l’Oriens Christianus’, Echos d’Orient 33 (1934), pp. 54–5; Hamilton, Latin Church in the Crusader States, pp. 173–80; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 40. 124  Cf. Chapter Ten on this policy in general. 125  The frequency of such compromises is the central thesis in: C. MacEvitt, The Crusades and the Latin World of the East: Rough Tolerance (Philadelphia, 2008). 126  William of Tyre, 14.30, p. 671; Italikos 43, pp. 260–1. Later in Basilakes’ oration, he emphasizes John’s piety while at the same time praising his rejection of money in and of itself, only wishing for allegiance and joint war against their enemies: Basilakes, Or. 1, pp. 67–8.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  223 grateful that a peaceful solution had been found. Choniates picks up the narrative here, noting how John stayed in the city for some days, while Kinnamos additionally notes that the Knights Templar and Hospitaller and others in the territory yielded to the emperor. Thus, John appears to have received homage from all in his new province.127 Further, Choniates and Italikos report that representatives of Jerusalem did obeisance, and that Edessa’s troops became John’s, while Prodromos refers to Tripoli being made subject in the same way Italikos refers to the ‘rulers of  Phoenicia giving their pledge’.128 Though William considered the original treaty of Devol as invalid due to Alexios’ ‘betrayal’ of the crusaders, he does not consider John’s claims of Antioch invalid as a whole, and so describes John’s position positively at this time.129 Though John gained everything he wanted from this new agreement, the treaty still favoured Raymond strongly enough: he was assured of his rights to a territory of equal value to Antioch, and it should be recalled that Raymond had only become prince there a few years before. John here assumed the role of a benevolent overlord, justly protecting the rights of his new subjects rather than usurping them.130 This treaty is in keeping with John’s strategy for expanding the empire since the 1120s: overawe a locality with the imperial army, co-­opt local princes, take control of fortified points, and then begin the process of extending imperial administration to the province. Gaining Aleppo as a client under Raymond would be even better, providing Antioch with a defensive hinterland, and would replace a persistent threat with a friendly neighbour. As with all of these initiatives, John had to keep his new clients on side, however, and for this he had to make gains against the Muslims

127  JK, p. 19; NC, p. 27. 128  NC, p. 27; Prodromos, XI, line 168; Italikos 43, pp. 260–1; Chron. 1234, p. 276. Care must however be taken with this, as with the exception of Edessa that did indeed fight for John in the year ahead, Latin sources do not mention anything relating John to Tripoli or Jerusalem at this time, and therefore both Choniates and the rhetors may be exaggerating. It is unlikely that King Fulk of Jerusalem truly submitted to the emperor, indeed he seems to have made sure he stayed away from John so that he would not be forced to so, but ambassadors from the king may well have given him homage. Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 124–5. However, Augé has argued that Tripoli had been in the Byzantine sphere since its foundation, and that successive counts had all sworn fealty to the emperor. Though she takes her examples from Alexios’ and Manuel’s reigns, she sees John as attempting to institute the same relationship on Edessa and Antioch, and so this mention by Prodromos fully supports her argument. See: I. Augé, ‘Les Comnènes et le comté de Tripoli: une collaboration efficace?’, Le comté de Tripoli: état multiculturel et multiconfessionnel (1102–1289) (Paris, 2010), pp. 141–56. 129  William of Tyre, 14.24, p. 662; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 121. 130 Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 122–3; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 35–41; Parnell, ‘John II Comnenus and Crusader Antioch’, pp. 149–53; I.  Augé, Byzantins, Arméniens et Francs au temps de la croisade: politique religieuse et reconquête en Orient sous la dynastie des Comnènes (1081–1185) (Paris, 2007), pp. 269–77; Buck, Principality of Antioch, p. 196. Contra: Harris, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 81–5, who believes John did not desire ‘physical dominion’, but only token recognition. Asbridge adds that he sees the significance of the treaty of Devol to this negotiation as overstated by historians, as there are no direct references to it in John’s claims or in any of the Greek histories. However, the terms of the treaty and John’s demands are virtually identical, and the continuity in imperial policy is clear. See: T. Asbridge, Principality of Antioch, pp. 101–3.

0

100

50

200

Melitene

300 km

1: Late summer 1137 Mohammed invades

4: John divides his forces, some to winter camps,

e

d

it

e

Korykos

R. La m

o

s

Toprakkale

Alexandretta Gastin

Antioch

Syrian Gate

r

a

n

Cyprus

e a n

S e a

Map Ten  Eastern Campaign, autumn/winter 1137.

Homs

Tripoli

2: John responds to Mohammed

Aleppo

Hama

Shayzar

r

Turbussel

Mopsuestia

Orontes R.

Seleukeia

M

Adana

Tarsus

Attaleia

Edessa

Anazarbos

Cilician Gates

G lek

Kesoun

Marash

Ikonion Lake Pousgouse

3: Mohammed withdraws

Vahka

Geben

N

s

100

200 miles

ri Tig

0

150

Euphrates

MajorCity City Fortress Pass Battle Route of John’s Autumn Campaign Route of Mohammed Danishmend’s Autumn Campaign

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  225 in the following year. He did not even have to wait that long, as in late 1137 Mohammed Danishmend came south to stake his own claim on Cilicia and Edessa.

The Autumn War of 1137 William of Tyre, Choniates, and Kinnamos relate that following the submission of Antioch, John overwintered near Tarsus before starting his campaign in Muslim Syria.131 This has caused many scholarly accounts to follow suit, with the winter deemed irrelevant to the principal goal: the following year’s campaign against the Muslims.132 In fact, the operations of autumn and winter 1137/8 were just as important as any carried previously, as not only was John’s position in Cilicia with the Armenians at stake, but they also gave the emperor the opportunity to prove his worth as overlord of the County of Edessa. Worse still, John’s position in Anatolia was being challenged by the still powerful Danishmendids. Though John had secured the Cilician coastal plain before marching on Antioch, the mountains were still in Armenian hands, and their diminished state had not gone unnoticed by Mohammed Danishmend. Though his sultanate was weaker than it had been under Ghazi, Mohammed had managed to defeat his brothers in the previous few years and now sought to secure his position further through victories in foreign campaigns, just as his contemporaries did. Mohammed’s plan was to carry out a number of raids against the empire while John was away, probing for weaknesses that he could exploit to roll back John’s gains.133 A contemporary coin of his bears this legend in Greek: ‘Great Melik of all Romania and Anatolia’ (the latter possibly meaning simply ‘the East’, as the words are the same in Greek).134 Such a claim thus encompassed not only his existing lands but also at least those ruled by Mas’ud of Ikonion, Cilicia, and John’s own Anatolian provinces, and ­perhaps also the lands of Mesopotamia and the Levant. With these claims to empire, the weakened north of Cilician Armenia would be a tempting first target after his civil war victory, alongside the lands of Marash that were part of the County of Edessa. These had been much fought over in recent years as outlined in Chapter Two, and with Joscelin II’s army only just returned from aiding King Fulk, and possibly attending upon John in Antioch if Italikos and Choniates are to be believed, Mohammed would have seen an opportunity.

131  William of Tyre, 15.1, p. 674; NC, p. 27; JK, p. 19. 132 Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 134; Harris, Byzantium and the Crusades, p. 83; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 37–41; Parnell, ‘John II Comnenus and Crusader Antioch’, p. 153. 133  Mich. Syr. 16.9, p. 622; tr. p. 248. 134  N. Oikonomides, ‘Les Danishmendides, entre Byzance, Bagdad, et le Sultanat d’Iconium’, Revue Numismatique 6 (25) (1983), pp. 198, 201–2.

226  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Though Matthew of Edessa and the continuation of his Chronicle by Gregory the Priest confuse the dating, it is most likely that while John was at Antioch in late 1137, Mohammed invaded the lands of Marash.135 The Turks burned villages and monasteries, devastated orchards, cut off water supplies to the town of Kesoun and then encamped nearby to await Kesoun’s surrender from starvation or terror.136 The Anonymous Syriac Chronicle provides corroboration by relating that at the end of October a great caravan, accompanied by Frankish horsemen, was attacked near a village called Patal on the road to Edessa by the son of the Turkish lord of Mardin and Mayyafariqin (present day Silvan).137 Though Mohammed was unable to take the city due to a lack of siege engines, we can see why Matthew would tell us that Baldwin, lord of Marash and Kesoun and vassal of Joscelin of Edessa, begged John on his knees for aid against this threat.138 Thus, after his short stay in Antioch, John was once again on the march north to prove himself as a suzerain who could protect his new Latin clients against their aggressors. The Anonymous Syriac Chronicle tells us that while John was at Antioch, a Turkish army launched a surprise attack at dawn on a Sunday at Adana, where John had left a garrison.139 A strike force of raiders could certainly have bypassed the Cilician fortresses and cities taken by John if there was no field army to hand. Adana’s location on the flat plain made it one of the easiest targets. The Anonymous Chronicler, who clearly dates it to this time, should be preferred to Michael the Syrian, who places it during John’s visit to Antioch the following year.140 The Anonymous Syriac Chronicle relates how a Turkish warrior ascended the walls by grasping a defender’s spear, allowing the Turks to seize the wall, the gates, and then devastate the city, its houses, churches, and convents. The chron­ic­ ler goes into detail about how boys, girls, and clerics were all taken into captivity, with both he and Michael the Syrian noting that the Jacobite bishop was captured. When John heard of the attack, he set out immediately to catch these raiders. John therefore returned to Cilicia to rescue the Adanan captives, relieve the siege of Kesoun, and to take the still unconquered Armenian stronghold of Vakha.

135  Matthew tells us that Mohammed invaded at the start of 1137, but also that John was already in the vicinity of Antioch devastating Muslim territory. Gregory the Priest is just as vague, relating how John went from Cilicia to Antioch to Shayzar, and then Mohammed came; but he uses no specific phrases to specify when exactly this occurred in relation to John’s campaigns. The contradiction can be resolved however by the timing of Baldwin’s appeal to the emperor and his subsequent march north and sieges of Vakha. These events were exceptionally unlikely to have occurred after Shayzar as John hurried back to Constantinople and so they must have taken place after John had resolved his differences with the Latins. Therefore, 1137–8 is the most likely date: Mat. Ed., pp. 238–9, 241; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 118–19, n. 95 and 125, n. 117. See Lau, ‘Dream come True?’, p. 74. 136  Mat. Ed., p. 238. 137  Chron. 1234, p. 278. Whether this raid occurred in conjunction with Mohammed or entirely independently, it certainly attests to the county of Edessa being under assault at this time. 138  Mat. Ed., p. 239. 139  Chron. 1234, pp. 276–7. 140  Mich. Syr. 16.8, p. 620; tr. p. 245. Cf. below.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  227 These acts would raise his reputation through defence of his new subjects, further confirming his legitimacy as rightful liege lord of Cilicia, Antioch, and Edessa.141 Regarding the poor captives of Adana, the Chronicle tells us that due to a seven-­ day head start, John was not able to catch up with the raiders. They were sold as slaves, in Melitene in particular, though the emperor looked after all those who escaped.142 However, Matthew relates that on the mere word that the emperor was advancing, Mohammed withdrew north, unwilling to face the emperor in battle when he had not conquered any major fortresses to defend against him.143 Gregory the Priest’s continuation does not link John’s march to the Danishmendid withdrawal, only telling us Mohammed failed to take the fortress of Shuplsa, despite many assaults, and therefore he retreated, confirming that Mohammed did not conquer any major fortress in the region.144 After this, some of John’s army went to winter quarters in Tarsus, but divisions laid siege to Vakha (Feke), and Kapniskerti (Geben).145 The capture of Kapniskerti is significant as it had been held by the Danishmendids since at least the First Crusade, when Godfrey of Bouillon bypassed the castle to go through Marash to Edessa. Its capture not only would have been a blow to Mohammed but also would have provided greater security for the whole of Cilicia as the castle guarded one of the two major passes through the mountains there.146 141  Frankopan has demonstrated how Baldwin of Bouillon acted as an imperial agent in the foundation of the county of Edessa, effectively relieving Thoros as imperial governor of the isolated province. Though there is no known equivalent to the treaty of Devol with the counts of Edessa, they too were perceived as imperial clients by John: Frankopan, Call from the East, pp. 150–3. 142  Chron. 1234, p. 277. This timescale just about works, since the distance between Antioch and Adana is just under 200 km; if the call for help came by ship, then there was certainly enough time for John to be only seven days behind the raiders. The level of detail, with there being many Syrian Jacobite Christians in Melitene, also attests to the plausibility of this account, as it is unlikely that this failure to catch up with the raiders would have been of interests to our Greek rhetorical sources. With the Armenian sources mainly concerned with the Armenians it makes sense for this Syriac source to be the only one that focused on the Syrian Jacobites. 143  Mat. Ed., p. 239. 144  Ibid., p. 241; unidentified, though Edwards notes that further exploration is doubtless needed to uncover further fortresses in this thus far poorly surveyed region: Edwards, Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia, p. 40. 145  Again, Kinnamos describes how this event took place on John’s return to Constantinople, but with the Danishmendids pressing his Anatolian frontier to the west he is unlikely to have spent time besieging Armenians en route; as such the events he describes are more likely to have occurred when every other source relates that they occurred: during this winter. JK, p. 20; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 125, n. 117. Ibn al-­Adim notes how John attempted to lull the Syrian Muslims into a false sense of security with an attack on the Armenians, having supposedly sent an ambassador with his good wishes to Zengi and exchanged gifts, but this is uncorroborated and may simply evidence Ibn al-­Adim rhetorically demonstrating the treachery of the emperor: Ibn al-­Adim, p. 674. Choniates notes how John attacked Vakha after all the other fortresses were taken and he had become master of the country; he also claims that John said he would be happy to lay siege to the city until his head turned grey and had been sprinkled by many snowfalls, implying this time of year (or several winter seasons) at least, in a campaign in no way connected to John’s return west, though with no exact dating: NC, pp. 21–2. Ibn al-­Athir places this campaign at this precise point in time, accordance with Matthew of Edessa and Gregory the Priest: Ibn al-­Athir, p. 337. 146  Gesta Francorum et Aliorum Hierosolimitanorum The Deeds of the Franks and the Other Pilgrims to Jerusalem, ed. R. Hill (London, 1962), pp. 25–7; Edwards, Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia, pp. 124–9, n. 7; TIB, 5.1, pp. 287–8.

228  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 37  Vakha Castle (left), though much of what can be seen on the outside is modern restoration work. The right photo is taken from the eastern tower, showing the north-­south pass.

It is, however, the capture of Vakha that takes prominence in our sources, ­particularly with Choniates, who was so impressed by the tale of its seizure that he places it first in his campaign narrative for dramatic effect.147 As with Kapniskerti, Vakha sits on a major strategic north-­south road through the mountains, and consists of a major fortress and town, with impressive ruins visible when visited in 2019; these support Choniates’ description of the fortress as a rock made even stronger by walls.148 Unlike any other Armenian stronghold aside from Anazarbos, Vakha caused John’s army some difficulty, as the siege continued for three weeks with no apparent progress. Choniates relates how John offered terms of surrender many times, but he does not relate whether or not the emperor brought up siege engines. The modern roads leading to Vakha are particularly narrow and winding all the way through the pass, more than any other fortress investigated during my fieldwork in the region. Assuming these were the same or worse when John attacked, he must have laid siege here without most or all of his artillery.149 The incident that so impressed Choniates is one that likely occurred to break the stalemate. He tells us that the Armenians, under a noble called Constantine, showed remarkable stubbornness despite their situation; Constantine insulted the  imperial troops in Greek, and challenged any who dared to single combat. John ordered his taxiarchs to select a champion, and a certain Eustratios from the Macedonian legion accepted the challenge. There followed an epic-­style duel between the raging Armenian and the stoic Macedonian, who timed his thrust perfectly to shatter Constantine’s shield, leading to both the flight of Constantine and the surrender of the fortress a few days later.150

147  NC, pp. 21–5; The capture is also mentioned with no details by JK, p. 20; Gregory the Priest, p. 241; Smbat Sparapet, p. 53. The latter two do mention Leon being finally captured there however. 148  NC, p. 22; Edwards, Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia, pp. 259–65. TIB, 5.1, pp. 207–8. 149  TIB, 5.1, pp. 207–8. 150  NC, pp. 23–5.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  229 With Mohammed driven off, and both north-­eastern passes secured against his return, John had demonstrated himself a worthy protector to his new Armenian and Latin subjects, in addition to extinguishing the last Armenian resistance. It was at this point that Leon and his family were sent by ship to Constantinople. The prince was to die in captivity, apparently having acknowledged that he could never have continued, caught as he was between Latins and Turks.151 Ibn al-­Athir adds that Leon offered John vast sums of money and agreed to be his subject, and so there is the possibility that some form of treaty was agreed according to John’s usual preference for client rulers.152 Regardless, the emperor imprisoned him, either because he did not trust Leon to keep his oath, Leon refused, or John needed the political capital. Far from resting before a return to Syria, this campaign was an essential part of  the activities of an emperor consolidating his role as imperial overlord of both  Armenian Cilicia and Latin Edessa, while dealing a blow to Mohammed Danishmend. His use of at least one population transfer, a conciliatory attitude towards the Armenian church, and the ability to bring stability to the province that had been fought over for most of the last fifty years explains how he was able to accomplish so much in so short a time. Ibn al-­Adim relates that John spent the rest of the winter between Anazarbos, Adana, and all over ‘little Armenia’. Thus, John may well have toured his new domains extensively that winter to organize its administration, bond with its nobles, and especially to look after the devastated city of Adana, as John sought to prove himself a fit substitute for Leon.153 However, before the winter was out, John was already marching south against Aleppo.

The Syrian Campaign of 1138 John’s primary objective was the conquest of at least part of Syria, ideally Aleppo, to provide Raymond with a new principality to rule under John’s suzerainty. In doing so, John would gain Antioch, and he would justify his role as overlord over both Raymond and Joscelin of Edessa, and possibly beyond. Also, by raising his prestige in Outremer and the West, it would legitimize his annexation of Antioch, and make up for his father’s alleged betrayal of the crusader cause.154 With Antioch under his direct rule, and at least Edessa and Aleppo as clients, the reconquest of Anatolia would also become much easier: John would thenceforth be able to draw upon his new clients for military support. Already, John’s star at 151  Choniates mentions how he immediately escaped, but then was captured again: NC, p. 25; Mat. Ed., p. 239; Gregory the Priest, p. 241; Smbat Sparapet, p. 53. This incident again emphasizes the support of the imperial navy throughout this campaign, and how the dating is again 1137/8 rather than 1138/9, as had the incident been later John would likely have brought Leon back himself: Ibn al-­Adim, p. 674. 152  Ibn al-­Athir, p. 337. 153  Ibn al-­Adim, p. 674. 154 Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 123.

0

100 200

200 miles

Melitene

300 km

Vahka R.

Geben

La m

Cilician Gates

Lake Pousgouse

Marash

Kesoun

Anazarbos

Edessa

Toprakkale

G lek

Adana Tarsus

Turbussel

Mopsuestia

Manbij

Alexandretta Seleukeia

M

err

an ane

Korykos

Antioch

Sea

Aleppo Ferep

Euphrates

Kafartab Shayzar

Cyprus

Map Eleven  Eastern Campaign, spring/summer 1138.

Buz’ah Orontes R.

Attaleia

MajorCity City Fortress Pass Battle Route of John’s Syrian Campaign

s

o

Ikonion

t edi

N

s

100

150

ri Tig

0

50

Nistrion Hama Homs

Tripoli

April 1st/4th John begins his campaign Raymond joins Baldwin and Joscelin join 14th April, Aleppo besieged 28th April, Nistrion captured Mid-summer John returns in Triumph

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  231 the court in Constantinople could not have been higher. The rhetors went into overdrive extolling how it had been too long since the Euphrates had known ‘an Ausonian ruler, Roman cavalry’.155 There are further hints that John reached for even more ambitious goals, and after taking Cilicia in a season, there was nothing to say that these goals were not within his grasp. A letter from a Jewish doctor in Seleukeia, addressed to his relatives in Cairo and dated 21 July 1137, explains that not only had the emperor ‘already taken Antioch’, but also that the doctor had asked ‘our commanders [unfortunately unidentified] to take along any medical books for [him], from Aleppo or from Damascus, which might fall into their hands’.156 Naturally, this remark could be nothing more than soldiers boasting to the doctor that of course they would bring him some books when they returned as conquering heroes—­but the Chronicle of 1234 also testifies that John went east because ‘zeal awoke’ in him, and that he had sworn an oath to win a great victory.157 Combined with further outreach efforts that John extended towards the Holy Land that will be related below, this campaign was very much intended to be one of the greatest expeditions in recent Roman history. If maximally successful, John would see the entire Levantine coast and its hinterland enter the Roman orbit. Ibn al-­Adim tells us how the campaign opened when Raymond arrested Muslim merchants in January and February. Whether John approved is unknown, but these moves were in keeping with other crusader expeditions.158 William of Tyre gives us some insight into actual military preparations by recording that all forces were gathered at Antioch from the entire principality, while messengers were sent to Edessa.159 William has John setting off around 1 April, Ibn al-­Adim gives an exact date as 4 April, while al-­Azimi tells us John was already besieging the fortress of Buza’ah on 3 April, and so must have set out earlier. The latter was in Aleppo at the time and so his is perhaps the most reliable account of the first part of this Syrian campaign. William’s account also skips straight to the siege of

155 Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 65; Italikos 39, p. 229. 156 S.  D.  Goitein, ‘A Letter from Seleucia (Cilicia): Dated 21 July 1137’, Speculum 39 (1964), pp. 298–303, quote on p. 300. Further discussion in: M. Lau, ‘Immigrants and Cultural Pluralism in Twelfth-­Century Byzantium’, Seiyo Chusei Kenkyu 10 (Medieval European Studies—­ Byzantine Empire and the Medieval Christian World Special Issue, 2018), pp. 87–120, esp. 88–93. 157  Chron. 1234, pp. 275–6. The Chronicle does, however, conflate this expedition with John’s second eastern campaign: John also swears not to return to Constantinople until he has accomplished such a victory, and as the author notes that it is God who grants victories, John’s death is therefore held up as a moralizing lesson on those too proud to put their trust in God as the emperor never returns to Constantinople. 158  Ibn al-­Adim, p. 675; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 126; John appears to have no problem with Muslim subjects, as his dealings with both Mas’ud above, and Shayzar below, demonstrate, therefore this could well be Islamic propaganda, or a quick way for Raymond to raise money. 159  William of Tyre, 15.1, p. 674.

232  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Shayzar, missing the campaign that led up to that struggle, though our other sources describe it well.160 John first struck east to rendezvous with the Edessan army under Joscelin, with Gregory the Priest confirming that after Easter, Baldwin, Lord of Marash, left his lands to join John’s army.161 The Anonymous Chronicle, perhaps due to its Edessan author, provides us with more information than most at this point, relating that messengers were sent to the Frankish leaders, and that the army then passed through the Edessan lands of Marash, Aintab, and Turbessel towards the fortress of Manbij.162 Having arrived at the border between the lands of Edessa and those of Aleppo, the army’s first target was the castle of Buza’ah (Piza) 10 km east of the modern Al-­Bab [‘the gate’], at the outskirts of modern Aleppo.163 Taking Buza’ah would both extend the domain of Edessa south and provide a base for the capture of Aleppo. Ibn Jubayr’s chronicle entry from 1184 makes plain why John would have wished to capture this site, noting that Buza’ah was: smaller than a city, and larger than a village. It has a market . . . /and at its higher part there is a large and powerful fortress . . . /the town has a surface spring whose waters flow through a broad valley with gardens radiant with verdure and vegetation.164

Choniates tells us that Aleppan forces met John’s vanguard in the field with such ferocity that it was forced to retreat. When the Emperor’s personal phalanx took the field however, the enemy were driven back behind the double walls of Buza’ah, at which John brought up siege weapons.165 This battle may have occurred when the leader of the vanguard attempted to seize the castle on his own, a likely scen­ ario for the young Alexios, another Byzantine noble, or indeed the new Latin clients desiring the Emperor’s favour.166 The gamble did not pay off but John’s siege engines won the town even so. With their fortifications breached, the inhabitants sued for peace, though al-­Azimi also refers to unspecified treachery after a 160  Ibid.; Ibn al-­Adim, p. 675; al-­Azimi, p. 141. John’s conquests until this point may have served no specific purpose for William’s narrative, or perhaps he simply did not have the information. 161  Gregory the Priest, p. 241; some scholars have the Edessans also meet at Antioch due to the vagueness of William of Tyre, Kinnamos, and Choniates as to when the Edessans joined. If this was the case, however, the choice of Buza’ah as a first target makes little sense considering the allies later assaulted fortresses closer to Antioch, and it ignores the testimony of Gregory the Priest: Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 123. 162  Chron. 1234, p. 278. 163 Ibid. Gregory the Priest, p. 241; NC, p. 27; JK, p. 19; al-­Azimi, p. 141. W. Stevenson, The Crusaders in the East: A Brief History of the Wars of Islam with the Latins in Syria during the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries (Cambridge, 1907), p. 140; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 126. For al-­Bab see: Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, tr. R.J.C.  Broadhurst (London, 1952), pp. 259–60; G. Le Strange, Palestine under the Moslems: A Description of Syria and the Holy Land from A.D. 650 to 1500 (London, 1890), p. 406. 164  Ibn Jubayr, p. 259. 165  NC, p. 27; their use is confirmed by Ibn al-­Athir, p. 340. 166 Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, pp. 92–3.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  233 seven-­day siege.167 Choniates tells us that they exchanged the city’s wealth for their lives in possible reference to this, while Ibn al-­Adim relates that many were killed despite these terms, with four hundred becoming Christians to save themselves.168 Kinnamos records that an immense quantity of plunder was taken from Buza’ah, and that many captives were sent to Antioch under a secretary called Thomas who had served since childhood, though he was ambushed by Aleppan forces and lost his captives en route.169 Buza’ah itself was given to Joscelin. Thus, in its opening move the expedition had already borne fruit for all parties.170 This even-­handedness was of course the whole point, as John sought to demonstrate to his new clients the value of being under his aegis. The campaign that followed is best explained by John’s need to acquire prestige vis-­à-­vis his clients, coupled with the desire to fulfil the treaty of Antioch so that John could take possession of that city. Choniates tells us John decided against taking Manbij, c.36 km east of Buza’ah and 30 km west of the Euphrates, due to its location on the open plain.171 With only a small fort, it could be taken at his leis­ure later. This may, however, cover the fact that even if John’s march east had allowed him to rendezvous with the Edessans and to take Buza’ah, it had also allowed time for Aleppo to be reinforced by 9 April.172 Al-­Azimi specifically mentions that an ‘infidel Turk’ had left the Byzantine army and warned the people ‘like an angel’, and that following this warning came five hundred horsemen under Emir Sayf al-­Din Sawar. Al-­Azimi then describes how these reinforcements gave hope to the people of Aleppo when they arrived on 10 April.173 Al-­Azimi and Ibn al-­Din then relate how John remained at Buza’ah ten days before advancing on Aleppo, some 46 km to the southwest, though the former tells us he arrived on Tuesday 19 April, while the latter records Thursday 14 April.174 Aleppo was the regional prize: described by Choniates as a populous city, and by Ibn Al-­Athir as the strongest Muslim fortress in Syria, it is likely the ‘great Assyrian city’ mentioned by Basilakes.175 It had been besieged twice but not ­captured by the crusaders in 1124 and 1129.176 Its capture would make John’s reputation, and potentially see all his plans fulfilled. 167  al-­Azimi, p. 142. 168  NC, pp. 27–8; Ibn al-­Adim, p. 675; Ibn al-­Athir, p. 340; Ibn al-­Athir adds details about the murder of Muslims after terms were given and the killing of people hiding in caves by suffocation when John’s forces lit fires to smoke them out. Whether this occurred or not, it certainly aids his rhetorical case against the Christians. 169  JK, p. 19. The plunder is also noted by the Chron. 1234, p. 278. Al-­Azimi also refers to many captives taken, though not their fate at this time, al-­Azimi, p. 142. 170  NC, pp. 28; Chron. 1234, p. 278. 171  Known classically as Hierapolis Bambyce, and Vembetz in NC, p. 28; Le Strange, Palestine under the Moslems, p. 500. 172  Dating from Ibn al-­Adim, pp. 675–6; Stevenson, Crusaders in the East, pp. 139–40. 173  al-­Azimi, p. 142. 174 Ibid. 175 Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 65. 176  William of Tyre, 12.9, p. 556 (cf. battle of Ager Sanguinis), 13.15, p. 603; NC, p. 28; Ibn al-­Athir, p. 340; Le Strange, Palestine under the Moslems, p. 360; Asbridge, Principality of Antioch, pp. 87, 90.

234  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 38  Aleppo Citadel, though much of what is seen was rebuilt after Tamerlane destroyed it in the fifteenth century, its fortified position can be easily comprehended. Little remains of the city walls, though considering the fortification of this citadel in addition to the walls, John’s decision to try again for Aleppo another time can be readily understood. Photo Credit Paul Gapper. This photo was taken before the twenty-­first-­century civil wars, and so the damage done since is, as yet, unaccounted for.

As the Crusaders had discovered before, however, there was little wood or water in the region: John could not resort to his Cilician strategy of using siege engines to overawe the populace, or easily supply his army to wait Aleppo out.177 Al-­Azimi tells us that John set up his tents to the south of the city, on the River Quwayq, and then attacked the very next day, Wednesday 20 April.178 Ibn al-­Adim gives us the same date (though records it as a Tuesday), while Choniates without dates refers to a major sally by the defenders after John attacked—­likely to have been the horsemen of Sayf al-­Din Sawar. Each chronicler claims their side got the better of the skirmish, but either way John did not enter the city, nor was he driven off, though one of his generals may have been killed according to Ibn ­al-­Athir.179 While attempting to survey the walls John was shot at multiple times according to Choniates, who then makes plain that the emperor’s impressions of the city were that it would withstand a very long siege.180 John’s supply lines might not support a long siege in hostile country. Nor would it provide benefits for the 177  NC, p. 28; JK, p. 19. 178  al-­Azimi, p. 142. 179  NC, p. 28; Ibn al-­Adim, p. 676; Ibn al-­Athir, p. 340; Stevenson, Crusaders in the East, p. 140. 180  NC, p. 28.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  235 loyalty of his new clients—­nor would the loss of life caused by further assaults help his cause. John therefore settled on a new strategy of seizing the other towns and fort­resses in the region. Through this strategy he could hope to take Aleppo more easily in future: with its hinterland in his hands, he would have secure supply lines (their weakness demonstrated by the ambush of the secretary Thomas), Aleppo would be cut off from support and more likely to surrender, and his Latin clients would remain convinced of the final success of their venture.181 The army therefore marched south, taking first al-­Atarib (Ferep) and then Kafartab, both of which were given to counts from the principality of Antioch, rewarding them for their efforts so far and the loss of Thomas’ captives.182 Ibn ­al-­Athir adds colour to this account by telling us that the garrison at al-­Atarib was massacred, while Ibn al-­Adim and al-­Azimi tell us they merely deserted (with the latter noting they burned everything of value first). Both Ibn al-­Athir and Ibn ­al-­Adim tell us there was a brief defence of Kafartab before John’s army continued its march south towards Shayzar; Pecheneg troops secured the well-­fortified town of Nistrion as a base of operations by 28 or 29 April.183 Al-­Azimi, uniquely, also mentions that John took the fortified city of Maarat al-­Numan, which lies equidistant between Kafartab and Shayzar, and that he additionally had to contend with a counter raid by Sayf al-­Din Sawar.184 According to him, the prisoners taken at Buza’ah and the valley of al-­Bab were being held in the citadel at al-­Atarib, and with John and his army further south, Sayf al-­Din Sawar led his cavalry to rescue them. He managed to return a thousand prisoners to Aleppo, bringing the people of the city great joy according to al-­Azimi, though John then moved from Maarat al-­Numan and al-­Atarib was abandoned once again. This account could be the source of the story of Thomas mentioned by Kinnamos, or another event entirely;

181 The Anonymous Syriac Chronicle provides an opposing narrative, whereby Aleppo was certain to fall to John’s army, but then the ‘deceitful Franks’ convinced him to attack Shayzar instead, which the chronicler notes was held by noble Arabs who ‘loved all men and were good mediators at all times’. Though the Chronicle usually corroborates our other accounts, or provides unique details on occasion, the extent to which this account clashes with every other version we have from Arabic, Greek, and Latin authors means we should likely see it as an incident of history changed to reinforce the portrayal of the ‘deceitful Franks’, and to highlight the chronicler’s distinction between those lords who treated Syrian Jacobite Christians well and those who did not. Chron. 1234, pp. 278–9. 182  NC, pp. 28–9; JK, p. 19. Kinnamos tells us Hama was taken as well, but this as unlikely as it was located south of Shayzar and is not mentioned by any other source: Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 126, n. 129. In addition, it was likely still under siege by Zengi, as Ibn al-­Adim, Ibn al-­Athir and al-­Azimi tell us: Ibn al-­Adim, p. 676; Ibn al-­Athir, p. 340; al-­Azimi, p. 142. 183  Ibn al-­Athir p. 340; Ibn al-­Adim, p. 676; NC, pp. 29; al-­Azimi, p. 143. Nistrion has been identified as the Gistrum mentioned by Walter the Chancellor, and thus the Hisn al-­Jisr of Arabic sources: C.  Tonghini, Shayzar  I.  The Fortification of the Citadel (Leiden, 2012), p. 50, n. 50. Houtsma and Arnold have identified it with a castle that in the nineteenth century probably stood on the eastern bank of the Orontes, guarding a suburb of Shayzar. If true, this would make it the perfect place to base troops in order to take Shayzar: M. Houtsma and R. Arnold (eds.), ‘Shaizar’, Brill’s Encyclopaedia of Islam 1913–1936 (Leiden, 1993), p. 289. 184  al-­Azimi, pp. 142–3.

236  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 either way, it demonstrates that John’s campaign into Syria was fiercely contested, and he would have to win a great many more engagements to conquer it as he had Cilicia—­and the next step was Shayzar. Shayzar was ruled by the Munqidh dynasty. In 1138, that meant rule by ‘Izz-­al-­ Din abu-­al-­’Asakir Sultan, whose nephew Usama Ibn-­Munqidh wrote an extensive description of the siege.185 The siege of Shayzar is one of the best-­documented events of the century, though it is also one of the most contentious because of the differences between competing accounts. Shayzar is located on a bluff overlooking the River Orontes with a layout similar to Antioch: its mountain citadel was deemed to be all but impregnable by con­ tem­por­ar­ies; walls ran down from it to the plain to enclose the city, with some suburbs outside the walls.186 In addition to the rich city itself, its location on the border of the Crusader states but on the Syrian plain made it the ideal staging point to secure supply lines for any future conquest of Aleppo to the north and Homs to the south, which itself opened up the route to Damascus, and thus the conquest of all the fertile lands west of the Syrian Desert. With the campaign a month old, the Muslims of Syria decided to make their stand at Shayzar, with various cities all providing troops and food supplies for its defence.187 Where Atabeg Zengi of Mosul and Aleppo stood in this conflict is unclear, occupied as he was with the siege of Hama. He may have exchanged gifts and embassies with John, implying a modus vivendi whereby John and Zengi could split independent Syria between them, or there may have been an attempt to lull Zengi into trusting John before his betrayal as Ibn al-­Adim relates.188 Alternatively, Zengi may have been aiding Shayzar as part of a proxy war rather than fighting John directly, as the Anonymous Syriac Chronicle notes that he prevented supplies from reaching John.189 Al-­ Azimi relates that Zengi both ­welcomed John with gifts and raided John’s army. In the September before the campaign, al-­Azimi mentioned that a messenger of John’s had visited Zengi, and that Zengi had sent back his chamberlain to gift John with cheetahs, goshawks,

185  Chron. 1234, p. 279; Usama Ibn-­Munqidh, Book of Contemplation, tr. P. Cobb, pp. xv–xli and pp. 11–12. 186  Italikos calls it the ‘strongest place in the region’: Italikos 43, p. 263; William of Tyre, 15.1, p. 674. Chron. 1234, p. 279. For an overview of Shayzar in general, see: W.  Müller-­Wiener, Burgen der Kreuzritter im Heiligen Land, auf Zypern und in der Ägäis (Munich, 1966), p. 57; P. Deschamps, La Défense de comté de Tripoli et de la principauté d’Antioche: Étude historique, géographique, toponymique et monumentale, 2 vols (Paris, 1973), p. 114; Tonghini, Shayzar, especially pp. 2–24. 187  NC, p. 29; Usama Ibn-­Munqidh, pp. 11–12. 188  Ibn al-­Adim, p. 674. 189  Chron. 1234, p. 279. The Chronicle does not, however, mention that Zengi was occupied with the siege of Hama, and impossibly places him at Aleppo when John is at Shayzar (considering he was laying siege to Damascus before Hama, he could not have gone all the way north with his troops, past John’s army, and then returned south). However, some of Zengi’s troops could well have harassed supplies sent to John’s army. Ibn al-­Athir quotes poems praising Zengi for throwing John back, but he does not actually relate any example of Zengi actually doing so. Ibn al-­Athir, pp. 2–3, 340–2.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  237

Figure 39  Shayzar Fortress and modern town from the Orontes in 2007. Photo Credit Loris Romito.

and kestrels—­appropriate gifts for an emperor partial to hunting.190 At this point in the narrative though, he mentions that both Zengi and Sayf al-­Din Sawar raided John’s detachments while he was assaulting Shayzar.191 Given that Zengi’s involvement is not mentioned by Ibn Munqidh or any other Christian account, I would argue that Zengi was waiting to see how the situation developed, and so was taking a deliberately even-­handed approach to John’s campaign. Christian defeat would allow Zengi dominion over Syria, but Christian victory would require cordial relations with the emperor to establish a new Komnenid-­Zengid order in Syria. Or, indeed, to convince John that he did not need to continue his campaign to Damascus too. It was at Shayzar that Syria’s fate would be decided either way. The defenders first fought for the river, with Choniates remarking how their reed spears and swift horses were not enough to stop the imperial army.192 Basilakes appears to corroborate this account in his mention of the second unnamed city John confronts: it is a city far inland but with a watery moat hewn from the rock, where the defenders laid an ambush for the Roman phalanxes.193 John is then compared to Moses, working wonders with his sword rather than staff, as the river is filled with the fallen and the defenders flee, followed by the walls themselves shaking. This latter refers to the artillery bombardment that caused immense damage to both the walls and the people of Shayzar. Ibn Munqidh gives 190  al-­Azimi, p. 140. 191  Ibid., p. 143. 192  NC, p. 29. 193 Basilakes, Or. 1, pp. 67–8.

238  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 several anecdotes of friends killed by siege engines, al-­Azimi mentions the suburbs being devastated, and William of Tyre reports that John encouraged the operators of the siege engines personally.194 Choniates has John surround the city and divide the army into ‘Macedonian’, ‘Keltic’, and ‘Pecheneg’ divisions, causing the defenders to retreat from the outer to the inner walls.195 From here, John’s troops stormed the breaches in the walls, only to have to fight house to house against the defenders, both within the city and the suburbs as the Muslims counter attacked.196 John is said to have arranged shifts for the troops to fight and rest to maintain the pressure on Shayzar, and fought on the front line himself. William praises John for mixing with the ranks in breastplate and sword, untiringly fighting alongside them with his golden helmet marking him out, offering words of encouragement to all.197 Were it not for John’s personal heroics at Berroia, well attested by con­tem­por­ ar­ies, this description might seem exaggerated. William directly contrasts his portrayal of John with that of Raymond and Joscelin: they are pictured playing games of chance in their tents, encouraging others to join them rather than fight.198 The ‘passive resistance’ of Raymond and Joscelin goes unmentioned by other sources bar the Anonymous Syriac Chronicle’s usual descriptor of ‘deceitful Franks’, and a more intriguing hint by Ibn al-­Athir.199 He tells us that Zengi encouraged division by writing to John and the Latins, warning the latter that they would lose everything if the emperor were successful, while also warning John of the treachery of the Latins.200 These letters would allow Zengi to claim he  was working against the Christians all along should the emperor fail, or to reach an agreement with the Latins or Greeks should the campaign succeed, ­demonstrating again that Zengi was putting himself in the best possible position to succeed, whatever the result. Regardless of Raymond’s and Joscelin’s personal desires for their future as imperial clients, the fact remained that the fighting had gone on too long: supply shortages were setting in, and the death toll was mounting over a city far less important than Aleppo. April was already almost over, and campaigning in midsummer in Syria would only make the water situation for the siege of Aleppo worse, even with towns en route secured for safer supply lines. In addition, William of Tyre, Kinnamos, and the anonymous Syriac chronicler tell us that as 194  Usama Ibn-­Munqidh, pp. 125–6; NC, p. 30; al-­Azimi, p. 143; William of Tyre, 15.1, p. 674; Italikos 43, pp. 263–4. Discussed in Fulton, Artillery, pp. 107–12. 195  NC, pp. 29–30. 196  William of Tyre, 15.1, p. 675; NC, p. 30; Usama Ibn-­Munqidh, pp. 125–6; Ibn al-­Adim, p. 676; Ibn al-­Athir, p. 341. 197  William of Tyre, 15.1, p. 675. 198  Ibid. Basilakes does specifically mention that that the emperor ‘met not a small number face to face’, οὐκ ὀλίγους μικρὸν ἀντωπῆσαι, possibly corroborating William. Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 68. Cf. Augé, Byzantins, pp. 274–5; Buck, Principality of Antioch, p. 197. 199  Chron. 1234, p. 279; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 127. 200  Ibn al-­Athir, p. 341; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 127.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  239 soon as the suburbs were taken the emir started suing for peace, offering treasure in exchange.201 William reports that John agreed to a short truce to evacuate women and children from the city, implying that channels of negotiation were open between the two throughout, and that John was just as willing to act with kindness and justice to Muslims as Cilician Christians. This is noteworthy, for it recalls not only John’s willingness to have Mas’ud of Ikonion as an imperial client, and thus that John was in no way carrying out a Christian ‘crusade’ in Syria, but he was in fact out to restore the Roman empire as it had been in the early eleventh century, with the imperial territories around Antioch secured by autonomous rulers in the imperial orbit.202 Shayzar could continue under its Muslim ruler, paying John tribute, and this would in no way break John’s promise to Raymond to give him a new principality, and would still secure his supply lines for Aleppo. It would also convince other cities in the region to surrender to John as a sign that they would be well treated. The arguments against continuing to fight for Shayzar were mounting. Where Choniates and William of Tyre attest that John could have taken the citadel had he been so minded, Kinnamos and the anonymous chronicler contend that the emperor accepted he could not take it, and therefore agreed to the emir’s proposal.203 Basilakes refers to John feeling pity for the suffering of those within, and his willingness to turn opponents into subjects for tribute.204 John gained great deal of treasure, including a precious red (‘λυχνίτης’) cross sup­ posed­ly commissioned by Constantine the Great, together with a sumptuous table, both of which were part of the loot seized from the tent of Emperor Romanos IV Diogenes at the battle of Manzikert.205 Choniates adds that John left after receiving word that Edessa was under threat, while Ibn al-­Adim and al-­ Azimi tell us that John retreated upon receiving word of a Muslim relief army approaching. Al-­Azimi notes that his forces first retreated to a hill outside the city, and then they withdrew entirely on 21 May, with Ibn al-­Adim and Michael the Syrian relating that he even set fire to his siege engines in his haste.206 Finally, 201  William of Tyre, 15.2, pp. 675–6; JK, p. 20; Chron. 1234, p. 279. 202  For Aleppo in the eleventh century, see: M. Canard, Histoire de la Dynastie des H’amdanides de Jazira et de Syrie (Paris, 1953), pp. 831–8; W.  Farag, ‘The Aleppo Question: A Byzantine-­Fatimid Conflict of Interests in Northern Syria in the Later Tenth Century’, BMGS 14 (1990), pp. 44–60; J. Haldon, Palgrave Atlas of Byzantine History (Basingstoke, 2005), p. 72. Cf. A. Beihammer, ‘Strategies of Diplomacy and Ambassadors in Byzantine-­Muslim Relations in the Tenth and Eleventh Centuries’, Ambassadeurs et ambassades au coeur des relations diplomatiques 47 (2012), pp. 371–400, especially p. 371, n. 1. 203  NC, p. 30; William of Tyre, 15.2, p. 676; JK, p. 20. The anonymous chronicler has John realize the treachery of the Latins, as well as appreciate his lack of supplies and inability to seize the citadel by assault, Chron. 1234, p. 279. 204 Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 68. 205 Ibid. NC, pp. 30–1; JK, p. 20; Italikos 43, pp. 264–5. Chron. 1234, p. 279. Possibly also the herd animals mentioned as captured on this campaign in Prodromos, XI, lines 177–80, 191–200. 206  NC, p. 30; al-­Azimi, p. 143; Ibn al-­Adim, p. 678; Mich. Syr. 16.8, p. 620, p. 245; Ibn al-­Athir, p. 341, tells us that John merely abandoned his siege engines.

240  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 William of Tyre claims John left in order to punish Raymond and Joscelin for their lack of faith, as he would not continue to labour on their behalf with no support.207 Most previous interpretations of John’s withdrawal from Shayzar have posited that the focus on the treasure was to cover up John’s failure to take the citadel.208 The Muslim relief army mentioned by Ibn al-­Adim and al-­Azimi might be a topos, demonstrating that when Islam united, any army would retreat, but if real it could well have been the crucial factor in John’s decision.209 The threat to Edessa would also have been of grave concern, as it is almost certainly ‘the town of Vahram’ referred to by Gregory the Priest. He tells us it was empty of men, and that he himself had to encourage the commander to take heart when Turks were in the region, and that later that year the town was sacked.210 Smbat tells us that Mohammed Danishmend advanced into Cilicia sometime in 1138 with a raiding force, so Edessa and Cilicia might indeed have been under threat from the north.211 William of Tyre remarks that Joscelin was much in the emperor’s council after Shayzar, perhaps indicating that Joscelin wanted John to march north to secure his own lands rather than continue extending those of Raymond.212 Whether Edessa was a factor in this retreat or not however, the court sources provide us with the contemporary rationalizations for the return to Antioch. Both rhetors mention the plunder, but Basilakes adds a reference to Psalm 121 whereby John did not ‘stumble’ as the guardian of New Rome, the city whose true walls are not made of stones, but (quoting the fourth century bc Athenian statesman Demosthenes) of ‘weapons and missiles and horses and all nations smitten and subdued’.213 In the following verse he switches back to the Old Testament by lauding John for pillaging from the ‘barbarians of Assyria’ and casting down the ‘Moabites’ [a people who had opposed the Israelites settling in Canaan, whose kingdom was east of the Jordan). He also refers to Psalm 46, where God has ‘worked wonders upon the earth cancelling wars as far as the Euphrates and 207  William of Tyre, 15.2, p. 676. 208 Stevenson, Crusaders in the East, p. 141; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 127–8; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 41; Parnell, ‘John II Comnenus and Crusader Antioch’, p. 154; Tonghini, Shayzar, p. 51. Contra: Harris, Byzantium and the Crusader States, p. 84, who sees prestige and treasure as more important than conquest. 209  See Augé, Byzantins, pp. 273–5; Buck, Principality of Antioch, p. 197. 210  Vahram being Matthew in Armenian. Gregory the Priest, p. 242. The incident of the caravan near Edessa being attacked, and the town threatened, mentioned by the anonymous chronicler, could also perhaps be re-­dated to this period, cf. Chron. 1234, p. 278. Michael the Syrian notes the raid on Adana here too. 211  Smbat Sparapet, p. 53. 212  William of Tyre, 15.2, p. 676. 213 ‘εἰς σάλον τὸν πόδα σου’ is from Psalm 121, the Song of Ascents, which is especially appropriate in this context. To cite it in full: ‘I lift up my eyes to the hills, to find deliverance; from the Lord deliverance comes to me, the Lord who made heaven and earth. Never will he who guards thee allow thy foot to stumble; never fall asleep at his post! Such a guardian has Israel, one who is never weary, never sleeps; it is the Lord that guards thee, the Lord that stands at thy right hand to give thee shelter. The sun’s rays by day, the moon’s by night, shall have no power to hurt thee. The Lord will guard thee from all evil; the Lord will protect thee in danger; the Lord will protect thy journeying and thy home-­ coming, henceforth and for ever.’ Basilakes, Or. 1, pp. 70–1.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  241 Tigris’. These comparisons indicate that Basilakes viewed God as working through John to bring peace through war in order to secure the empire’s eastern frontier. In doing so, John acted in the tradition of his biblical and classical predecessors, who had safeguarded and enriched the Israelites and Greeks by carrying out punitive expeditions rather than conquests. It should also be noted that the princes of Antioch had, in the last few decades, extracted tribute from Shayzar themselves, and so John had at the very least equalled their previous achievements.214 Italikos’ oration adds a new dimension. He likens the emir to Porus of Paurava and John to Alexander the Great.215 The battle of Hydaspes in 326 bc was one of Alexander’s most costly victories, but the resistance shown by Porus impressed Alexander enough that he made him a satrap in his empire, incorporating the Punjab and opening up India to Greek influences. Italikos claims that John took the kingship from the barbarian, then made him king again for not bearing ill will towards the empire, for the emperor was standing up as a ‘guardian of all’ and sought to ‘fasten by ropes rulers from every side’ to himself.216 The promise of yearly payments would certainly imply that John had secured long-­term agreement with Shayzar, but whether he had secured the city as an imperial client or not, the goal in both fact and rhetoric was the conversion of coastal Syria into imperial territory surrounded by client rulers. Had Shayzar been conquered, it would have been given to Raymond, but the crucial city in Syria was Aleppo, and its capture necessary to create a secure client state in Syria. John’s withdrawal from Shayzar on terms was the most rational decision: the heat of summer was coming, he needed to preserve troops for the siege of Aleppo, and Raymond should be punished for not giving his all at Shayzar. Furthermore, there is the intriguing note from Michael the Syrian that John did actually station some fighting men in Shayzar when he withdrew, and this is partially confirmed by al-­Azimi who notes that between August 1140 and August 1141, Sayf al-­Din Sawar expelled certain Latins from Shayzar.217 With some troops actually stationed in the city, some form of client relationship must have been agreed, and therefore John had certainly exceeded the best efforts that the princes of Antioch had managed to accomplish on their own with regard to projecting power over these cities of Syria. Though this campaign cannot be counted as a great conquest on the level of Cilicia, it was far from a defeat. The true setback to the emperor’s ambitions in the region was to come on his return to Antioch.

Triumph and Tribulation in Antioch Choniates and Ibn al-­Adim report that en route back to Antioch, some of Zengi’s forces attacked John’s, but were wholly unsuccessful according to the former, with 214 Asbridge, Principality of Antioch, p. 215. 217  Mich. Syr. 16.8, p. 656; al-­Azimi, p. 148.

215  Italikos 43, p. 264.

216 Ibid.

242  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 the sons of Zengi and the brother of Emir Samuch taken.218 Ibn al-­Adim adds that there were then further negotiations between John and Zengi, though does not specify what they concerned. When John departed, Kafartab was abandoned and subsequently occupied by Zengi. This may imply some form of horse-­trading between the rulers. This is further implied by the fact that even though Zengi finally brought Homs and Baalbek into his domain by marrying the emir’s mother, with Mahmud of Homs’ marrying Zengi’s own daughter, he did not attack anywhere else in Syria, so a truce may have been agreed.219 Al-­Azimi uniquely mentions that Sayf al-­Din Sawar attacked a detachment at Al-­Atarib that was carrying supplies, presumably with the intention of supporting the garrisons John had left in that city and others, though he does not reference further reconquests at this time, as the expulsion of the Latins from Shayzar was not until 1140/41.220 Regardless, the emperor’s entrance into Antioch was a Roman triumph in the traditional sense. The patriarch, clergy, and lords of the city joined John and his  son’s soldiers in procession, first to the cathedral and then to the palace, ac­com­pan­ied by music and applause from the people.221 During the triumph, Raymond and Joscelin served as his equerries (‘stratores’), and afterwards John was truly munificent to both lords and common citizens, sharing the wealth of his conquests.222 To consolidate this moment of triumph further, on the road back to Antioch John finally reconciled with his brother, Isaac.223 Two poems written by Prodromos on Isaac’s return to Constantinople tell us that Isaac had a literal Road to Damascus moment in the Holy Land, which prompted him to reconcile with his brother.224 However, we find an extra layer of this alleged redemption story related in Basilakes’ orations to John and to John’s cousin, the eventual Archbishop of Ohrid, Adrian Komnenos.225 These tell us that when John and Adrian were in Antioch, with Adrian playing ‘Aaron’ to John’s ‘Moses’, Adrian was involved in the return of the emperor’s brother and nephew from foreign hands, during which Adrian received a tithe of the emperor’s plunder.226 Adrian then proceeded to travel all over the Holy Land, debating the 218  NC, p. 31; Ibn al-­Adim, p. 679. This might also be referenced in Chron. 1234, p. 279, if the chronicler put the raid as being before John left Shayzar rather than after. 219  Ibn al-­Adim, p. 679; Ibn al-­Athir, pp. 349–50; Stevenson interprets this as Zengi prudently awaiting John’s final departure. I would, however, contend that with John’s departure the political situ­ation changed, prompting Zengi’s conquests, as discussed below. Stevenson, Crusaders in the East, p. 141. 220  al-­Azimi, p. 144. 221  William of Tyre, 15.3, pp. 676–7; NC, p. 31; Italikos 43, pp. 265–6; Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 73. 222  William of Tyre, 15.3, p. 677. 223  NC, p. 32; Basilakes, Or. 1, pp. 63–4; Italikos 43, p. 265; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 110–11. Further discussion: Lau, ‘Isaakios in Exile’, Forthcoming. 224  Isaac specifically restores the aqueduct of the monastery of St John on the Jordan in the first poem, while he is equated with St Paul in the second: Prodromos, XL, esp. lines 28–33; E.  Kurtz, ‘Unedierte Texte aus der Zeit des Kaisers Johannes Komnenos’, BZ 16 (1907), pp. 112–17, esp. lines 24–6 and 77–8. 225 Basilakes, Or. 1 and 2, pp. 46 and 63–4. 226 Ibid.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  243 filioque in Jerusalem before bathing in the Jordan and suffering in the desert, just like Isaac.227 Adrian is lauded by Basilakes as the envoy to Palestine who made peace between Isaac and John, and he did so with a tenth of all John’s plunder from the  conquest of Cilicia. Considering this oration mentions Adrian aiding the Orthodox all over the Holy Land, a good amount of this money was presumably used for this purpose, with the rest spent in some way to secure Isaac’s return. Though it is usually assumed that it was Manuel who began the Byzantine policy of soft power patronage towards the crusaders, through these acts we can see signs of this policy taking shape under John.228 If Antioch was restored to im­per­ ial rule, then Jerusalem would become a neighbouring power, and so Adrian’s mission prepared the way for the next wave of imperial client management. All of this aside though, with Isaac and his son reconciled with John, the emperor was significantly more secure. As he recuperated in the baths and the palace of Antioch in mid-­summer, 1138, John’s star was still at its zenith: Cilicia, Edessa, and Antioch incorporated, Muslim towns and castles captured, and Shayzar providing him with plunder at the very least. Now Isaac too had come back into the fold, and with a few weeks rest the fight could be taken back to Aleppo; with his clients’ territory secured, their troops could join his army in Anatolia. Adrian’s journey around Jerusalem even suggests that a further advance south was a real possibility. It was now that John made what must have appeared to him a reasonable request, but one that would undo many of his achievements in the east. As with many of John’s mistakes, this incident is all but ignored in the Greek sources, but William of Tyre relates it in full. The emperor called Raymond, Joscelin, and their nobles to him, and asked for use of the citadel to store his war chest, which may have included the treasure they had taken thus far. He also wished to base more troops in the city while he constructed siege engines for Aleppo.229 William notes that none of these demands was unreasonable; they were in keeping with the treaty of the previous year as John had not asked for Raymond to step down or do anything else unlawful: he merely stated that through these actions, the pre­par­ ations against Aleppo would progress more efficiently. John’s requests were, however, a step too far for his Latin clients. William makes it clear that asking the sons of crusaders, who had restored Antioch to Christendom by the blood of princes, to give it up to ‘effeminate Greeks’, was beyond the pale, and that John had not yet earned the right to demand the city.230 John’s successes and his triumphant 227 Basilakes, Or. 2, pp. 47–8. 228 Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 138–41 cf. 220–1. 229  William of Tyre, 15.3, p. 677. The reference that Cilicia was too far away for use as a base ­perhaps reveals that these towns were considered safe bases and fully under imperial control. 230 Ibid., p. 98. Buck rightly emphasizes that William specifically records that John was going ­further than the treaty in his request that the city and the citadel should be given into the hands of the

244  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 welcome to Antioch appear to have gone to his head, compromising his usual good judgement, and thereby contributed to the early end of this Syrian campaign. Joscelin appears as the ringleader standing against the emperor’s demands, first asking for time to consult with other lords, and then sending out messages to the people not only relating the emperor’s demand but also that everyone would be forced to leave their homes to make way for Greeks.231 Whether Joscelin took the lead because Raymond was a virtual prisoner in John’s entourage, or whether Raymond was simply more loyal to the emperor, mattered not, as these letters destabilized John’s position: rioting swept across the city, with members of the imperial household dragged from their horses, whipped, and put to the sword—­a surprise for them as they had so recently been welcomed with applause and music from these same people. William has Joscelin spin a tale about how he himself was also attacked in an inn before he flung himself at the emperor’s feet, thus cementing his portrayal in William’s narrative as a two-­faced opportunist.232 John responded by summoning the nobles to him and telling them that if the people were so set against his using the citadel and the city, then he retracted his demand, and would withdraw to his camp outside the walls until the people calmed down. But this retraction was too late to repair the damage, especially because there was another cause for the unrest. On 28 March 1138, Pope Innocent II sent a letter addressed to all Latin Christians ‘faithful to God who are in the army of the king of Constantinople or live in his land’, which would have arrived in the east about this time.233 In this letter, Innocent not only downgrades John from emperor to king but also describes him as a schismatic and advises all Latins that they will share in his damnation if they aid him in attacking Antioch or other places that faithful Christians may p ­ ossess.234 There were two likely causes for the Pope’s turning against John: the first was his replacement of Latin bishops in Cilicia, combined with a threat to replace the Latin patriarch of Antioch too if Ibn al-­Qalanisi is to be believed. These policies had no doubt earned him the label of schismatic in the Pope’s eyes, but more decisive still was the changed diplomatic situation in Italy. The death of Lothar in 1137 had led to a slackening of the war against Roger, as each of the maritime republics made peace. They actively sought peace due to the threat to their shipping in the Adriatic and Tyrrhenian seas; at the same time,

empire now: ‘urbem cum presidio in manus imperii transferre’, William of Tyre, 15.5, p. 681. Buck, Principality of Antioch, pp. 198–9. 231  Ibid., pp. 98–100. 232  Ibid., p. 99. 233  ‘universis dei fidelibus Latinis, qui sunt in exercitu regis Constantinopolitani vel in terra sua habitant’, G. Bresc-­Bautier, Le Cartulaire du Chapitre de Saint-­Sepulcre de Jerusalem (Paris, 1984), No. 10, pp. 51–2. The date of this letter has been debated, but, given the context of external events, Lilie’s dating to 1138 appears to be correct: Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 130–3. 234  ‘rex Constantinopolitanus, qui se ab unitate ecclesie dividit’ and ‘Antiocham vel alia loca que fidelis Christiani possident’, ibid., p. 52.

The Great Eastern Campaign for Cilicia and Syria  245 Roger wanted peace and recognition of his rule from the republics.235 When in the late 1130s it seemed likely that the alliance of Lothar, Innocent, and John would prevail, the Italian city states sided with them, but with Lothar dead, his heir Conrad involved in a civil war, and John in the east, Pisa, Venice, and Genoa settled their differences with Roger.236 This in turn left the Papacy with no allies against Roger, but with the death of Anti-­Pope Anacletus in 1138, Roger was keen to be reconciled with Innocent.237 This would only occur with the treaty of Mignano in 1139, but in the meantime Innocent and the whole Italian peninsula was aligning itself with Roger, and thus turning from allies to being neutral or hostile towards John.238 Not only did this realignment contribute to Latins in the east turning against the emperor, but also his western provinces were now no longer secure from a Norman kingdom freed from fighting at home in southern Italy. Together with this potential threat, reports would have begun filtering in that not only was Mohammed Danishmend threatening Cilicia, but John’s Anatolian territories along the Sangarios River seemed vulnerable to Mas’ud of Ikonion.239 There is also a unique but intriguing mention by al-­Azimi that at this time the price of foodstuffs in the empire saw an increase that he must have felt worthy of noting.240 Overall, John had lingered too long in the east and the rest of the empire was beginning to suffer from his absence. There were no doubt many voices in the imperial camp outside Antioch clamouring for John to return to Constantinople. So, when a delegation arrived from Antioch assuring the emperor of loyalty, John was able to satisfy his army and leave Syria with his dignity intact.241 William tells us that John was in such a rage that he considered taking Antioch by force, and that these envoys were sent to assuage his anger. Whether true or false, this embassy, followed by one further audience between John, Raymond, Joscelin, and other nobles, reconciled the emperor with his Latin clients enough for honour to be satisfied. Without the emperor camped outside the walls, Antioch and Edessa’s allegiance as imperial clients was now in name only. John’s seemingly reasonable demand for security for his treasure and a base for his siege engines had lost him control of the city at exactly the moment external pressures from Anatolia and Italy recalled him from the east. It was not defeat at Shayzar that halted John’s 235 G.  Gallasso, ‘Social and Political Developments in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries’, The Normans in Sicily and Southern Italy Lincei Lectures 1974 (Oxford, 1977), p. 61; Abulafia, Two Italies, p. 55. 236  Ibid., p. 76. 237 Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 130–1. 238  Ibid.; D. Matthew, The Norman Kingdom of Sicily (Cambridge, 1992), p. 52. 239  Choniates only mentions that Ikonion had had taken advantage of John’s absence to attack, but he also references Turks attacking along the Sangarios in early 1139 so the implication is there. By contrast, Italikos directly mentions how barbarian neighbours on the Tigris and Euphrates and those on the Sangarios are related, and that the people of Ishmael had broken treaties and attacked Bithynia: NC, p. 31; Italikos 43, p. 267. 240  al-­Azimi, p. 145. 241  William of Tyre, 15.5, pp. 680–1.

246  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 conquest of Aleppo, but his ill-­judged demand at Antioch coupled with events in the wider world. Though John left Syria without Antioch and Edessa as loyal clients, and so could not include their soldiers in his armies to bring overwhelming forces to bear against the Turks of Anatolia, Kinnamos was not wrong when he summed up John’s expedition as one where much had been achieved in a short time. Compared to the slow conquests in these regions during the tenth century, John’s annexations were truly exceptional, and the eastern Latins were primed to be brought into the fold upon the emperor’s return.242 Cilicia had been conquered, and the Rupenid family was under house arrest in Constantinople. The princes of Antioch and Edessa had acknowledged John’s overlordship, despite their lack of loyalty; thus, he had enforced the demands that he and his father had made in treaty of Devol. Though he did not take direct possession of these states, it appears probable that the formerly Antiochene lands north of the Syrian gates, and especially the port of Alexandretta that John had repaired and would use a few years later, remained part of the empire. John had therefore moved the imperial borders eastwards to the Amanus mountains, where the castle at Gastin guarded the Syrian Gates, and Sarventikar the Amanian Gate. Both crusader states had also been strengthened, with the fight taken to the Muslims in Syria, rather than the Christians being on the defensive. In 1138, John may have been leaving the east, but he had every intention of returning. Judging him by what had occurred by 1138, John’s achievements in the east were not as great as they would have been had the events at Shayzar and Antioch gone differently, but they were still considerable, and could be built upon with a further expedition.243 However, that expedition would be a few years away, as John first had to restore security in Anatolia.

242  JK, p. 21. 243 Treadgold’s opinion that John had achieved “nothing of importance in Syria” seems overly harsh considering these benefits. Treadgold, State and Society, p. 636.

Nine The Last Campaigns The imperial retreat from Syria in 1139 was by no means passive. John re-­entered an arena that had become unstable in his absence, and he had brought his large field army back to resolve a deteriorating security situation. The Turks of Ikonion were once more raiding Roman territory, such that John sent a division of his army north against them, while he travelled to Constantinople through Cilicia.1 Choniates relates that this took the form of a counter raid, one which despoiled the land, ‘taking captive both men and animals of all kinds, draft animals as well as those suited for riding’. These phrases echo Michael the Syrian’s description of Turkish raids that had occurred while John was away, and so John appears to have used the Turks’ own tactics against them.2 John returned only briefly to the cap­ ital despite his three-­year absence and poor personal health, for Anatolian stability was not to be achieved with only one successful raid against Ikonion.3 Even though Mohammed had retreated from John near Edessa, his defeat of his brothers now meant that the Danishmendids were once more united. Mohammed could launch attacks against Bithynia and Cilicia simultaneously, an eventuality stated plainly by Italikos as a key reason for John’s return west.4 This was the exact strategy that Mohammed adopted, as the Turks attacked both northern Cilicia and crossed the Sangarios into Bithynia in early 1139. The mere presence of the ailing John in Bithynia apparently averted the Danishmendid raiding in the region, perhaps indicating that this was a feint, and Cilicia was the intended thrust. Michael the Syrian tells us that the fortresses of Vakha and Kapniskerti, fruits of John’s autumn Cilician campaign, were taken by Mohammed.5 Though they are both a considerable distance from the major fort­resses and cities of Cilicia—­more than 100 km from the Adanan plain proper—­it was a definite reversal against John’s otherwise effective conquest of Cilicia and the mountain passes that led to it, as the fertile lands around Anazarbos were once more at potential risk of raids. Such a raid is perhaps noted by al-­Azimi, as he records that between August 1139 and August 1140, Muslims from the Syrian desert had fought the Romans and given them victory.6 Though Cilicia remained in imperial hands, John’s great conquest appeared far less secure than it had the previous year. 1  NC, p. 31; Mich. Syr. 16.9, p. 622; tr. p. 248. 2 Ibid. 3  Both Choniates and Prodromos note how John set out on another expedition despite his illness, indeed Prodromos praises him all the more for it: NC, p. 33; Prodromos, XVI, lines 49–56. 4  Italikos 43, p. 267. 5  Vagha and Gaban in the original, Mich. Syr. 16.9, p. 622; tr. p. 248. 6  Al-­Azimi, p. 146.

Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143. Maximilian C. G. Lau, Oxford University Press. © Maximilian C. G. Lau 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198888673.003.0010

248  Emperor John II Komnenos Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 The Danishmendids were, therefore, once more John’s most dangerous foe in Anatolia, and dealing with them became his priority for the year ahead. Doing so was primarily to secure his current territories, but conquest of new territory would demonstrate renewed imperial strength to both current and prospective client rulers. In addition, it would make the fighting take place in other lands than his own, relieving his Anatolian provinces. Further, John had to settle Anatolia if he was ever to return to the Levant. The two theatres of war were interconnected, as with further Anatolian conquests he would have an even more secure position when he returned to integrate Antioch, and when he returned from that he could use his new clients to push further still into Anatolia. With the Danishmendids on the offensive, Anatolia became the priority, but John’s ambitions in these years stretched far beyond it. John was not to know that these would be his last five years, or indeed that his plans for the succession would be totally overturned before he died. His plans in this half-­decade come perilously close to both major success and failure, but one thing they do not lack was a grand vision of imperial restoration. His years sta­bil­ iz­ing Anatolia before he returned east involved extensive diplomacy with the west, with the strong implication that further involvement there was also part of his plan. In this final chapter of John’s life, we see the heights of his ambitions, both those more possible and those more fanciful. From this vision we can better appreciate the dichotomy between what John actually accomplished, and what he had the potential to accomplish in other spheres as well, with those other spheres being the subject of the final two chapters.

The Quiet Fall of Gabras of Trebizond Now back in Anatolia, John was better able to focus on the Danishmendids because the Turks of Ikonion broke off their raiding. No further offensives are mentioned by any source at this time, aside from an intriguing note by Choniates that John took advantage of a ‘cessation of hostilities’ to build a fortress at Ankyrous on the Makestos in Phrygia.7 It is unclear whether this was a formal truce between John and Mas’ud, or whether Mas’ud simply pulled back now that John and his army had returned. Either way, there was no peace with Mohammed, so John built Ankyrous to secure his Phrygian territories, in order that he could focus on claiming Danishmendid territory in northern Anatolia. By doing so, he could also finally resolve a problem he had left untouched for many years: the rebellion of Gabras of Trebizond. John lost no time in launching this northern expedition. Choniates tells us for the first time that there was some resistance to John’s incessant campaigning from 7  NC, p. 33; tr. p. 19.

The Last Campaigns  249 the troops themselves, and not merely from poets bereft of imperial patronage. Apparently, John’s ‘imperial decrees’ that the army be kept together after the years long eastern campaign, not to mention the raids against Ikonion and defence of Bithynia carried out on the return west, made the emperor appear ‘unremitting and imperious’ for the first time. Choniates tells us John prevented his soldiers from going home by using: ‘those who kept diligent watch over the roads and points of embarkation’ to prevent them; something easily done considering the network of fortresses that John developed, the subject of the following chapter.8 Choniates here notes that John allowed his detractors (by implication homesick soldiers, though possibly counsellors advising him to do otherwise) to air their grievances, not pretending he did not know or care about their complaints. John was seemingly able to mollify them, such that he could retain the initiative against his Anatolian enemies with a campaign in late spring 1139. Choniates itemizes the threefold goals of this campaign: to expel ‘the barbarians who had intruded upon the Armeniakon theme’; to seize Constantine Gabras who had been ruling as a tyrant in Trebizond for some time; and finally to march against Neokaisareia and the Danishmendids, whom Choniates here mentions were ‘the strongest and most ruthless of those who had subdued the cities of the Romans’, highlighting their renewed status as the major threat to John’s plans.9 Choniates gives no details on the summer and autumn campaign; nor is there any other mention of John’s deeds until he took up winter quarters at the winter solstice (21 December) in the Pontic city of Kinte.10 This location is unknown, but it could be identified with Kundu in the Lykos River valley in Cappadocia, to the east of Neokaisareia and the site of a Roman bridge across the Lykos.11 This identification is strengthened by Prodromos’ poem on the campaign of 1140, which opens with a successful engagement against Mohammed in February on the Lykos; John reaching Neokaisareia so soon in 1140 would have necessitated local winter quarters.12 If this were the case, between late spring and 21 December John’s army would have campaigned across northern Anatolia to reach the Lykos valley. Of John’s three aims for this campaign outlined by Choniates, two must, therefore, have been accomplished: the Armeniakon theme, consisting of the central Pontic region between Paphlagonia and Chaldia, must have been at least partially secured from Danishmendid assault, and the Trebizond rebellion finally extinguished. Though the former may be assumed to be fairly uninteresting as far as dramatic engagements went for writers of histories and court rhetoric, the lack of focus put on the end of an almost ten-­year resistance to imperial rule is a striking 8  NC, p. 33; tr. pp. 19–20. 9  Ibid., p. 34; ibid., p. 20. 10 Ibid. 11 Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 177; Based on a travel account from the nineteenth century, D. Hogarth and J. Munro, Modern and Ancient Roads in Eastern Asia Minor (London, 1893), p. 730. See Fig. 44. 12  Prodromos, XIX, lines 11–30.

250  Emperor John II Komnenos Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 40  The modern Kelkit River was the River Lykos, with this photo taken from the road bridge referred to as ‘Kundu’. Though a local man looking after cattle said there used to be ruins of a village near here, which may be the Kundu referred to by Hogarth and Munro, there was no evidence to be seen on the ground. Still, this appears to be the most likely site for Kinte and, thus, John’s winter quarters in 1140 in the Lykos valley. See: M. Lau, ‘Project Report: Crossroads of Twelfth-­Century Empires: The Byzantine, Danishmendid and Georgian Landscape of Power’, Heritage Turkey 9 (2019), pp. 14–15.

omission. The reason is likely to be that whatever prestige the emperor may have gained by restoring Trebizond under his aegis, it was as nothing to what he had lost by letting such resistance go on for so long. Gabras had even minted his own coins in the last few years, and so the less focus on it by both contemporary rhet­ or­icians and Choniates’ eulogizing history, the better for John’s reputation.13 Still, the reintegration was successful, and likely involved the replacement of locals with Constantinopolitans if the information in one of Prodromos’ letters was typical. In the 1142/3 letter Prodromos wrote to his former master, colleague and friend Stephanos Skylitzes, he suggests that if his penury did not improve he would join Stephanos in Trebizond, as Skylitzes had become the metropolitan bishop of the city shortly after its restoration to the empire.14 That Prodromos 13 P. Grierson, Byzantine Coins (London, 1982), pp. 228–9. 14 Theodore Prodromos, ‘Τῷ μητροπολίτῃ Τραπεζοῦντος’, pp. 94–100; commentary: pp. 302–7. Also see Prodromos, LXXIX and Petit, ‘Monodie de Théodore Prodrome sur Etienne Skylitzès’, p. 3.

The Last Campaigns  251 would leave the capital for Trebizond implies it was a secure part of the empire only a few years later. The fact that Trebizond stayed loyal until the fall of Constantinople in 1204, and then became the centre of the successor empire of Trebizond, demonstrates the success of John’s reconquest. Of Gabras’ own fate we are unsure, but regarding his sons we know that one became a councillor of Manuel I while another ended up at the court of Turkish ruler of Ikonion, and still another went to the Crimea.15 It can certainly be assumed that they were barred from taking up any further office in Chaldia. As the spring of 1140 began, John had therefore secured the entire Pontic coast and quietly ended Trebizond’s rebellion in a campaign that would keep the coast Roman until 1204. He was now set to press his advantage against Mohammed Danishmend with the conquest of Neokaisareia and the northern part of the old province of Cappadocia.

A Campaign Too Far: Logistics, Treachery, and Failure at Neokaisareia The capture of Cappadocia must have appeared as a tantalizing prize to John, one that could lead to the conquest of all Anatolia if it succeeded. Not only would it rip the heart from Mohammed’s territories, likely causing his followers to desert him, but geographically it would open the land route across the peninsula to Cilicia, a potentially similar outcome to that accomplished by John in the first few years of his reign when he captured Laodikeia and Sozopolis. Even more significantly, though, this conquest would cut off both the remaining western Danishmendid territories and Mas’ud’s Ikonion from the rest of the Islamic world. East of Cappadocia would be borders guarded by both Edessa and Georgia, the latter now under the capable King Demetrios I who in 1139 was raiding the Turks in Ganja, modern Azerbaijan; thus, with Roman su­per­ ior­ity in the ascendant once again, John could reabsorb central Anatolia at leis­ ure if Neokaisareia could be seized. However, unlike many of his other campaigns where John stacked the odds in his favour with meticulous preparation before setting out, John began this one with several disadvantages. His army had been on campaign all but continuously since 1137 with only a few short rests. It had overwintered in the small town of Kinte in the newly held frontier region between Chaldia and Cappadocia rather than returning home. The winter had been unusually harsh, with the cold leading to ‘diverse evils’ as John began his campaign in the still bleak February of 1140.16 15  A. Bryer, ‘A Byzantine Family: The Gabrades, c. 979–c. 1653’, University of Birmingham Historical Journal 12 (1970), p. 171; NC, p. 121. 16  NC, p. 34; tr. p. 20; JK, p. 21; Kinnamos contends that John began the siege of Neokaisareia in winter, which is a possibility, though it does not change the narrative a great deal either way. This winter is also mentioned separately in: Mich. Syr. pp. 623–4; tr. pp. 250–1.

252  Emperor John II Komnenos Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Supplies were depleted, pack animals and warhorses died, and the Turks took full advantage. They launched frequent surprise raids and attacks, and even engaged in open battle on the Lykos river, either on the route to Neokaisareia or while John was already laying siege, depending on whether Choniates’ or Kinnamos’ accounts are to be believed. In order to reach Neokaisareia from Trebizond, any traveller has to go up and down across the mountain passes, and even on the modern roads this journey takes most of a day by car. These lands are also hardly fertile enough for an army that needed to live off the land, as scattered grazing animals are all that are to be found in this mountainous region. With this landscape, it is clear why there are few major population centres in the area, and thus Neokaisareia, despite its distance from Trebizond, was the first and only major city in the area. Its capture would have required heavily stretched supply lines through hostile territory, though if John had managed to capture it, it would have secured all the lands between from all but a similarly determined assault. Aside from Kinte, obviously chosen for its location on the river not too far from Neokaisareia, the only other site known is Atra, supposed birthplace of Theodore Gabras who rebelled against Alexios, and the site of a small medieval chapel and castle, just to the south of the modern city of Gümüşhane.17 Both were isolated outposts, so this campaign’s success rested heavily on seizing Neokaisareia. The area around the city is far more fertile and so was a prize in its own right, but then as now it was defended by a walled citadel hill that would have been a nightmare for any army to assault, particularly while Turkish raiders attacked the besiegers. Though Prodromos’ poem paints the engagement (whether it was on the Lykos or outside the walls) as a great victory against the Turks, Choniates’ account is more nuanced.18 The Danishmendid hit and run attacks at Kinte, together with the loss of horses over the winter, had caused John to constitute an elite squad of cavalry composed of the most skilled lancers among the Romans and Latins. He had given them the best horses and had them charge down the Turks while at the same time raising up infantry standards to give the appearance of more cavalry units, putting the Turks to flight.19 Though this ingenuity had led to victory, John’s army was not in the best condition when it began the siege of Neokaisareia, relying on the trickery of assumed cavalry superiority when in fact John did not have the troops, and it was still suffering from the cold winter away from any supply lines. Prodromos goes to great lengths describing the steep hills and narrow passes overgrown with thorn bushes

17  J. Crow and A. Bryer, ‘Survey in Trabzon and Gümüşhane Vilayets, Turkey, 1992–1994’, DOP 51 (1997), pp. 288–9. 18  Prodromos, XIX, lines 21–40. 19  NC, p. 35; Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, p. 94.

The Last Campaigns  253

Figure 41  Western view across Neokaisareia’s citadel. This demonstrates both the height and security of Neokaisareia’s fortifications, as well as the fertile lands between the city and the encircling mountains.

while the sun blazed down and there was no water to drink; at night the army was cold and exposed, all the while wearing armour in constant fear of attack.20 Choniates, Kinnamos, and Prodromos note one such attack when John’s youngest son Manuel showed particular heroism: the twenty-­one-­year-­old charged in personally to relieve a Roman division that was losing to a superior Turkish force, and though John publicly praised the young prince, he was furious and privately beat him for almost getting himself killed.21 These accounts tell us once again that the conduct of John’s sieges was not merely the act of assaulting the walls of a city, but a thorough process of engaging with enemy forces in the whole territory, requiring many skirmishes as well as the dramatic city-­taking to conquer a province. Despite the fact that this is the one occasion when we hear of a Byzantine division being hard pressed, there are again hints at the difficulties encountered during this winter campaign, far from home, and deprived of the usual logistical 20  Prodromos, XIX, lines 92–111. 21  NC, p. 35; JK, pp. 25–6; Prodromos, XIX, line 78; Prodromos merely mentions Manuel’s heroism, Choniates notes the beating, while Kinnamos alleges that the emperor was angry but also filled with admiration, following his usual pattern of glorifying Manuel with comparison with his father, while Choniates marks the emperor as a harsh but fair disciplinarian.

254  Emperor John II Komnenos Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 support of the navy. Such logistical support must have been missed all the more as the terrible weather conditions continued, since Michael the Syrian tells us that from the harsh winter onwards there was no rain until May in this region, substantiating Prodromos’ mention of heat and thirst.22 It is at this point that Kinnamos relates that John gave up, deciding to rescue Christian prisoners and seize as much plunder as possible before abandoning the siege. Kinnamos also notes how few of the Romans returned from this campaign on horseback.23 Prodromos’ poem focuses on the heroic endurance of the emperor, the courage of his sons and his men as they return, bringing tribute despite their failure to take the city, while Choniates provides us with an incident that explains John’s retreat in more detail.24 Choniates tells us that the emperor’s nephew John, son of his newly reconciled brother Isaac, had inherited his father’s penchant for treachery at the worst possible moment for the emperor’s plans. Where Choniates only informs us that Isaac betrayed John for being ‘vexed at some trifle’, this time he relates an equally trifling thing for which his son betrayed his lord, family and religion.25 The emperor saw a distinguished knight from Italy without a horse (likely one of his previously mentioned handpicked squad of lancers that had seen off the Turks), and asked the young John to dismount his Arabian stallion, knowing that he had no lack of horses. The haughty young aristocrat rejected the emperor’s demand, going so far as to challenge the knight to a duel to determine who was the better warrior so that the greater man could remain mounted, but at the emperor’s anger (for they were in the middle of a skirmish) he had to acquiesce. Upon mounting another horse, he rode straight towards the Turkish ranks, but put up his lance and defected to them. He must have recalled how he had spent his youth with his father in Turkish company, and with an attitude of teenage indignation, decided to change sides to one where he believed he would be better treated. Fortunately for him, the young John was indeed welcomed by the Turks and would soon convert to Islam and marry a daughter of Mas’ud—­but before that his very act of defection was to scupper single-­ handedly the Cappadocian campaign. The emperor—­probably quite rightly—­feared that the young John would reveal to the Turks ‘the Roman army’s predicament . . . the lack of horses and supplies and every other plight in the camp’, and so was forced to withdraw, enduring attacks all the way back to the coast.26 Though far from being a second Cilician campaign, John had still achieved modest goals in the northeast. Armeniakon was secure, Gabras’ rebellion finally ended and Chaldia restored to his authority. These were not mean achievements, 22  Mich. Syr. pp. 250–1, 623–4. 23  JK, p. 21. 24  Prodromos, XIX, lines 92–201. 25  NC, pp. 35–6. 26  Ibid., p. 36, p. 21. For more on this defection, see: A. Beihammer, ‘Defection across the Border of Islam and Christianity: Apostasy and Cross-­ cultural Interaction in Byzantine-­ Seljuk Relations’, Speculum 86 (2011), p. 619.

The Last Campaigns  255 but when compared to the successes of previous years they seem paltry. Had John prepared better, and had more luck with his nephew, his campaign may have produced the rewards he wished, but in retrospect it was a step too far for his exhausted army. Even so, he is likely to have spent some time securing his new frontiers, as he did not return to Constantinople until 15 January 1141.27 The following year was one of consolidation and rebuilding; while John did leave for Lopadion to carry out some operations on his eastern frontier, there were no great campaigns, and he returned to the capital before winter set in.28 A possible cause for this may have been unusual weather conditions across this summer, as Michael the Syrian notes that hail devastated vines and trees around Melitene in May 1141, with June bringing great winds that uprooted any remaining trees.29 How far west these conditions may have stretched is uncertain, but it could certainly have been a summer to stay home if Michael’s account can be applied to Anatolia as a whole. One consequence of the campaign was, however, the quiet banishment of John’s brother Isaac to Herakleia Pontika, a fortified city at the mouth of the Lykos in Bithynia.30 This is only mentioned as an aside by Kinnamos when he discusses the start of Manuel’s reign, where he notes that Isaac had been exiled there, but had lived there honourably such that Manuel could recall him in 1143. This location put Isaac out of the capital but still within easy reach of it by land and sea, and so could be considered some form of compromise solution compared to the house arrest Manuel’s own brother Isaac was placed under at his succession in 1143.31 It seems highly unlikely that Isaac would truly have been any real threat to John in the capital by this point, reliant as he was upon his brother for funds and position. Though it has been argued that Isaac’s later building works demonstrate that he did not give up his imperial ambitions, and in the same vein that Anna’s Alexiad was written as a delegitimizing piece inspired by this period, such pol­it­ ical statements would only have affected John’s legacy rather than his authority by the 1140s.32 Not only were these projects not completed until after John’s death, but the fact they occurred at all may demonstrate John’s complete security, as it is only a very nervous regime which finds criticism from former rivals impossible to countenance. Equally, John’s last years would hardly be restful, as there was much court business to catch up on from his years away, not least the developing situ­ ation in Italy. 27  NC, p. 37. 28  Ibid. This is, perhaps oddly, also noted by al-­Azimi, who says that at this time the ‘king of Rum reintegrated the provinces of Constantinople’—though what this refers to, how or why al-­Azimi in Aleppo would have deemed it noteworthy to record is a mystery. Al-­Azimi, p. 148. 29  Mich. Syr. 16.9, p. 624; tr. p. 252. 30  JK, p. 32; Varzos, Genealogia, p. 244; Beihammer, ‘Defection across the Border’, p. 621; Linardou, ‘Imperial Impersonations’, p. 159; TIB 9, pp. 208–16. 31  JK, p. 32. 32  See in particular: V. Stanković, ‘Komnenian Monastic Foundations in Constantinople’, pp. 47–72, esp. pp. 59, 62–3; Vilimonović, Structures and Features, pp. 310–12.

256  Emperor John II Komnenos Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Italian Diplomacy Since his return from Syria, John had attempted to restore the anti-­Norman coalition that had existed in 1137, with the maritime republics, the Papacy and the German Empire aligned with him against Roger’s Norman Kingdom of Sicily. Such a coalition was imperative not just to secure his western borders, as had been shown by the Pope’s letter labelling him a schismatic (see Chapter Eight), but to his eastern ambitions, and to any possibility of southern Italy’s return to Byzantine suzerainty. One of John’s first acts when he had returned, briefly, to the capital in 1139 was to send a letter to the Pope expressing his belief in the unity of the church, as a clear riposte to the papal letter that had sought to undermine his Syrian campaign.33 Aside from a skilful navigation of the papal supremacy issue by using a trans­lit­er­ ation of Innocent’s title, ‘παπας’, rather than a translation, and despite the letterhead being composed of five crosses in reference to the pentarchy, there is little of substance in this letter, while John’s follow-­up letter in 1141 is more specific.34 This second letter refers to the ‘two swords’ that defend the church, an idea formulated by Pope Gelasius in the fifth century that posited a union of Christian society under the twin governance of the secular emperor and the church, and indeed the letterhead is changed to three crosses, implying a more unified church of east and west.35 The ‘two swords’ is a loaded phrase, which has lent itself to two rather opposed scholarly interpretations of John’s policy: on the one hand, this phrase could express John’s intention to ally with the Pope ‘and together they would restore the unity of the Christian Church and establish the world supremacy of the one Roman Empire’, deriving an ambition for world conquest from this small phrase.36 On the other hand, this phrase could be John merely rhetorically stating the bene­fits of an alliance, being ‘friendly but inconclusive’ so as to retain his freedom of action in the Levant and not be tied down by any papal restrictions.37 A midpoint could be that John was sounding the Papacy out about his imperial claims

33  ‘Unam enim esse ecclesiam quam Salvator sanguine proprio redemit, nulli eorum qui divinam scripturam docti sunt omnino ignotum est’, Monumenta spectantia ad unionem Ecclesiarum Graecae et Romanae, vol. I, ed. A.  Theiner and F.  Miklosich (Vienna, 1872), p. 20; Rowe believes that the olive branch was in fact Innocent’s initiative, attempting to keep both John and Roger on his side. Though possible, Lilie’s more standard interpretation of the letter as John’s initiative to improve relations is more likely, though Rowe’s suggestion that the Papacy also had much to gain from imperial friendship is worth mentioning: Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusades, p. 135; Rowe, ‘The Papacy and the Greeks’, p. 121. 34  Monumenta spectantia ad unionem I, p. 17. 35  Based upon Luke 22:38; Pope Gelasius, ‘Duo Sunt’, Readings in European History, tr. J. Robinson (Boston, 1905), pp. 72–3; ‘duobus gladiis’, Monumenta spectantia ad unionem II, p. 20. The letters have been digitized online at the Archivum Secretum Apostolicum Vaticanum. 36 Ostrogorsky, History of the Byzantine State, p. 385. 37  ‘. . . généralités sur les bienfaits de la réunion’, Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 163; Rowe, ‘The Papacy and the Greeks’, p. 122.

The Last Campaigns  257 to Italy, while seeking papal recognition for his imperial title, an approach adopted by his son Manuel during his reign.38 These interpretations read much into small phrases, though none of these explanations is beyond the realm of possibility. John’s major flaw was occasional overambition, though the most likely reading of the text is simply that John wished to have the Pope support rather than resist his overlordship of Latin Christians in the lands he ruled, or might rule in the near future. In the letters sent originally by the Pope to the emperor, the Pope had named John specifically as ‘rex Constantinopolis’ and a schismatic, attacking the basis of his rule over Latin subjects, at exactly the time when John hoped to enforce his dominance over both Crusaders and, eventually, Italians and expand beyond his current maritime republican clients.39 With these two letters, John reaffirms his devotion to a single church and requests recognition of his title as Roman Emperor, thus his full set of titles in Latin names him as ‘Ioannes in Christo deo fidelis rex, porfyrogenitus, sublimis, celsus, fortis, augustus et imperator Romanorum’.40 Such a claim is not, however, to be interpreted as inimical to the German emperor, with whom John had exchanged ambassadors in 1140, 1141, and 1142.41 Conrad III was occupied with a German civil war and the Normans were hardly his top priority, so John proposed a marriage alliance with his youngest son Manuel to sweeten the alliance, for which we have a poem of Prodromos remarking on the Princess Bertha’s arrival at court, and the alliance between the ‘king of old Rome’ and John that would lead to Conrad joining in the future wedding celebrations ‘when the lord returns to us victorious’.42 The marriage did not, actually, take place until after John’s death, with the sticking point in negotiations said to be the rights of Conrad and John over the supposedly soon to be conquered southern Italy, but even so the two great powers had renewed their alliance. They appear to have done so with the support of both Venice and Pisa as a Pisan ambassador was present in Constantinople during the German

38 Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 89. 39  Bresc-­Bautier, Cartulaire du Chapitre de Saint-­Sepulcre, no. 10, pp. 51–2. 40  Monumenta spectantia ad unionem I, pp. 18–20. 41  Regesten der Kaiserurkunden 3, nos. 1320–2; W.  Ohnsorge, Das Zweikaiserproblem im früheren Mittelalter: der Bedeutung des byzantinischen Reiches für die Entwicklung der Staatsidee in Europa (Hildesheim, 1947), pp. 374, 379, n. 50, 384, 387; Lilie, Handel und Politik, pp. 387, 395; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusades, p. 134. 42  Ὦ μέγα ῥὴξ τῆς παλαιᾶς καὶ πρεσβυτέρας Ῥώμης, βαθύτατε τὴν φρόνησιν, δεινὲ τὴν στρατηγίαν, τὸ γένος εὐγενέστατε, περίδοξε Κονράδε, καὶ κηδεστὰ λαμπρότατε τῶν δορυφορουμένων, νῦν ὑπερῆρας τῇ τιμῇ, νῦν ηὐγενίσθης πλέον, ὅτι καὶ τῷ Κομνηνικῷ συνεκεντρίσθης γένει καὶ καθωράθης ἀγχιστεὺς τοσούτου βασιλέως· ὅθεν καὶ χαῖρε μεθ᾽ἡμῶν καὶ σύνᾳδε τῇ κόρῃ νῦν μὲν παιᾶνας μουσικοὺς τοὺς ἐπιβατηρίους, μετ᾽οὐ πολὺ δὲ σὺν θεῷ τοὺς ἐπιθαλαμίους ἐπαναζεύξαντος ἡμῖν σὺν νίκαις τοῦ δεσπότου’, Prodromos, XX, lines 37–47.

258  Emperor John II Komnenos Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 negotiations, which involved Doge Pietro Polani of Venice as mediator.43 Thus, the support of these two maritime republics was as strong as it had been in 1137 despite their peace treaties with Roger. It must be repeated that John chose to remain aligned against Roger as prep­ ar­ation for a reconquest of southern Italy. Roger in fact proposed a marriage of his son to an imperial princess in an attempt at establishing peaceful relations according to Kinnamos.44 John did not refuse this plan outright, but he also kept the negotiations going long enough that he died before anything had been decided. It seems that John’s preferred policy was his anti-­Norman alliance as this was the most likely route to restoring the lands of southern Italy lost by the empire in the eleventh century. The drawing out of negotiations with both the Germans and the Normans demonstrates that John was serious about his rights there, and that his end goal was the restoration of the empire as it had been in the previous century. Such negotiations in 1141 do not necessarily imply that John was immediately planning an Italian invasion, or a return to the east to make his authority over the crusaders a concrete fact as well as a rhetorical claim, but they do demonstrate that these plans would be enacted when the situation allowed. However, December and the new spring would see another major change in the Anatolian situation requiring imperial action: the death of Mohammed Danishmend, and an attack on Sozopolis.

Renewed Turkish Civil Wars and the Lake Pousgouse Campaign in 1142 As with the death of Ghazi in the previous decade, chaos followed Mohammed’s death (on 6 December), chaos such that Michael the Syrian and al-­Azimi are unclear on the details, with only the fourteenth-­century chronicle of Abu’l-­Fida giving a coherent narrative.45 He tells us that Mohammed’s death led his three sons, his son-­in-­law Mas’ud (a seemingly eternal opportunist), and Mohammed’s three brothers and their three sons to fight once more over Anatolia.46 This multi-­ party civil war was understandably complex even for contemporaries, but over the course of a few months the camps consolidated into three: one led by Mas’ud who allied with Ibrahim, Mohammed’s eldest son who did not succeed him as melik but had inherited Melitene. Another was based at Neokaisareia; this was

43  Documenti sulle relazione delle città toscane coll’Oriente Cristiano e coi Turchi fino all’anno MDXXXI, ed. G. Müller (Florence, 1879), no. 2, 4; Dölger, Regesten der Kaiserurkunden 3, no. 1322; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusades, p. 135. 44  JK, p. 91. 45  Abul-­Feda, ‘Chronique’, RHC Historiens orientaux I (Paris, 1872), pp. 1–165; Mich. Syr. 16.10, p. 625; tr. p. 253; al-­Azimi, p. 150. 46  Abul-­Feda, ‘Chronique’, pp. 26–42; Mich. Syr. 16.10, p. 625; tr. p. 253.

200

0

400 miles

300

0

N

600 km

Kastamon

Trebizond

Constantinople

Gangra

Nikomedeia

R lys Ha

Neakaireiasa

.

Lykos R.

Nicaea Lopadion

Rhyn da

Each faction of the Danishmendid Civil War is marked by their faction leader next to their base of operations

s R. ko

Ankyra Kotyaion

Philadelphia

nd e r R Maea

. Laodikeia

R.

Lake Pousgouse

Attaleia

C

I IL

A CI Korykos Seleukeia

Map Twelve  Danishmendid Civil War, 1142.

s

o

Ikonion

Sozopolis

Anazarbos

Orontes R .

Ephesus

Philomelion La m

Smyrna

Melitene

rates ph

Eu

Amorion

Constantinople Major City City City of John Fortress Fortress of John Faction leader

260  Emperor John II Komnenos Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 ruled by Mohammed’s brother Yaghi who was allied with his brother Ayn al-­ Dawla, who had governed Melitene previously, along with their sons Taghi and Dhu’l Qarnayn. Both of these camps opposed the succession of Mohammed’s second son, Dhu’l Nun based in Ankyra, as the new melik.47 It is unclear exactly when this civil war broke out, and the timeline of events is uncorroborated; eventually Dhu’l Nun would defeat his uncle’s Neokaisareia alliance, but then he would in turn be defeated by Mas’ud and his heir, Kilij-­Arslan II by 1164.48 Nevertheless, who exactly attacked Sozopolis in 1142 is unknown, with the attackers only identified as ‘Turks’ by Kinnamos, but it is likely to have been the new Melik Dhu’l Nun seeking to prove himself worthy of his position.49 This identification is lent credence by a letter from Manuel to Mas’ud in 1145 where he mentions that he and Taghi Arslan are allied. Though this could have been very quick diplomacy on Manuel’s part, it is likely that John laid the foundations by despairing of Mas’ud ever coming into the imperial fold, and so he aligned himself with the Neokaisareia camp in classic ‘enemy of my enemy is my friend’ diplomacy.50 Despite the Turks attacking Sozopolis ‘in full strength’, John appears to have had no trouble relieving the city, such that he then went off to Attaleia, where ‘he intended to remain for some time so as to establish greater order in the surrounding provinces’.51 This restoration of order involved the conquest of Lake Pousgouse, the classical Karalis, and modern Beyşehir, which shows how, for Choniates, conquest meant security for existing provinces, and demonstrates how the two policies were linked.52 This campaign is illuminating as to the nature of the inhabitants of Anatolia in this period, since the people of the lake were Christians (indeed Kinnamos calls them Romans) who due to close proximity, commercial ties and long custom, were allied with the Turks, treated the emperor as an enemy, and resisted the restoration of imperial authority.53 This restoration was of huge strategic importance to John, as the people of the lake could travel to Ikonion and back in a day, and so possession of it would give him the perfect staging post to take Ikonion itself. His past conquest of Askora had already brought Roman authority to the edge of the lake, and so the islands themselves were the next stepping-­stone to Ikonion. These islands were especially useful due to their fortifications, and with the size of the body of water creating a huge moat for each fortress, these islands were well able to resist any invader. John first asked the inhabitants to surrender, or to yield the islands and go over to the Turks if they preferred. The latter is an intriguing offer that at once 47 Ibid. Corroboration for this can be found in: ‘Extrait de la Chronique intitulée Ibn-­Alatyr’, Kamel-­Altevarykh, RHC Historiens orientaux I (Paris, 1872), p. 544. 48 Ibid. 49  JK, p. 22. 50  Ibid., p. 39. 51  JK, p. 22; NC, p. 37. 52 Ibid. 53  This incident has been debated extensively by scholars of the period, as it illuminates the chan­ging political and socio-­economic situation of Anatolia, see recent discussion by Beihammer, Turkish Migration, p. 183.

The Last Campaigns  261

Figure 42  (L) Typical snapshot of some of the islands on Lake Beyşehir. Most are fairly steep sided and contain only one or two landing places, and so it is likely these landing places that were fortified. Little remains of the fortifications today, though it appears likely they were quarried for the stone used to build the thirteenth century Seljuk Palace, the Kubadabad Sarayı, on the western shore (R).

demonstrates how important the conquest of the lake was, while also evidencing that John had not lost his penchant for devious negotiation, as such an offer would surely have divided the population of the islands. They refused both options, but John then devised an ingenious solution to negating the islands’ fortifications. He ordered that a quantity of boats should be bound together, and planks tied atop them, so that he could mount his war machines on floating platforms and use his siege engines against the lake castles. Both Kinnamos and Choniates record that strong winds occasionally drove across the lake, capsizing these rafts and leading to great loss of life, but despite the winds the islands were taken.54 Whether John had intended to follow the capture of the lake with an immediate siege of Ikonion or not will never be known, as his eldest son and co-­emperor the young Alexios was suddenly struck down by a fever that killed him quickly. In response to such a tragedy, John and the army returned to Attaleia to send Alexios’ body home by sea, accompanied by his brothers Andronikos and Isaac.55 On the voyage home, Andronikos also died: a double blow to the now ageing emperor, with Kinnamos, Choniates, Italikos’ monody and letter to Meles, and the Kleinchroniken all remarking on how the emperor grieved for his sons, and began to view his best-­laid plans as all falling apart.56 Indeed the Kleinchroniken optimistically relate that John planned to send his eldest son Alexios to Rome to be 54  JK, p. 22; NC, p. 38. 55  JK, p. 24; NC, p. 38; Italikos 11 and 27, pp. 130–1, 181–3; William of Tyre, 15.19, p. 700. 56 Ibid.; KC, Chronik 6.2, pp. 57–8. Chron. 1234, p. 280. The latter relates that John’s sons died before John ever left Cilicia in c.1138, and that after they died, he returned to Constantinople, having failed in his oath to win a great victory, and ‘not taken one house from the Muslims’. This conflates the timeline for dramatic effect in the author’s narrative, particularly as he then has John return the following year, skipping over the years 1138–42 entirely.

262  Emperor John II Komnenos Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 crowned, and Andronikos to Jerusalem while Isaac and Manuel would be given other parts of the world; we have no means of knowing as to whether John actually believed he could carry out such a plan, but the loss would have affected not only him personally but also the army as a whole. As both Italikos and Choniates make clear, it was not a good omen for the march ahead, and we saw before how Alexios had taken command himself for the capture of the citadel at Tarsus and the castle of Gastin, and so now both the succession and the military chain of command were in question. John’s next move was to return to Cilicia and Syria, though whether he had always intended to do this after the Lake campaign, or whether he had changed his mind after the death of Alexios is unclear, with Choniates presenting Alexios’ death as a turning point, and Kinnamos implying it was always his plan.57 The date already being 2 August also left little time for a siege that year, which may have influenced the emperor’s decision further. Either way, the Lake campaign clearly indicates that Ikonion was in John’s sights for imminent conquest, and the fact that besieging it was one of Manuel’s first acts underlines this intention.58 With the Turkish civil wars raging, imperial frontiers would be safe from any major incursion, and since John was already in his eastern territories the temptation to impose a final settlement on the Levant, as he had in the Balkans, would have been considerable. With such a settlement he could add the crusaders as clients to his army too, and so be even more effective in Anatolia and perhaps southern Italy beyond that, in addition to salvaging at least one of his great plans from the personal tragedy caused by the death of two of his sons. In addition, the time was especially opportune, as Prince Raymond himself had recently called for imperial aid.59

The Return East Choniates tells us that John’s overt purpose in 1142 was to travel to Cilicia to integrate it further into the empire, but that he also travelled east to push his claim to Antioch once more.60 Kinnamos relates that John planned to grant Manuel his own territory, comprising Attaleia, Cilicia, Antioch, and Cyprus, because Raymond, prince of Antioch, had rebelled.61 Though the Kleinchroniken entry for the death of the young Alexios also implies that John intended setting up his sons with different parts of the empire to rule directly in his old age, such a division of territory between sons would have been exceptionally innovative.62 Equally, the reason given by Kinnamos that Raymond was in rebellion is noteworthy, suggesting that either John now held him to account for the failures of 1138 despite 57  JK, pp. 22–4; NC, pp. 38–9. 58  JK, pp. 38–63; NC, pp. 52–3. 59  William of Tyre, 15.20, pp. 701–2. 60  NC, p. 39. 61  JK, pp. 22–3. 62  KC, Chronik 6.2, pp. 57–8.

The Last Campaigns  263 forgiving him earlier, or that Raymond had been called to attend on the emperor with troops but had not come. In fact, William of Tyre relates that Raymond had been requesting the emperor to return for some time to save the crusaders from Zengi.63 Thus, there are a number of issues with John’s 1142 expedition to the east that are contentious: his exact goals and the reasons he decided to return are both unclear in the sources, but his actions are to some extent illuminating. Equally, the circumstances surrounding his death may not give us enough information to determine whether the emperor was murdered, but they do tell us who benefitted from his early demise. To address Kinnamos’ alleged plan to give Manuel his own portion of territory, it would be useful if we knew whether this plan predated the death of young Alexios, and an eventuality which might lend credence to its practicality, in add­ ition to aligning with the testimony contained in the Kleinchroniken. Some further support for this plan might be found in the Anonymous Syriac Chronicle, which relates that when John met with the eastern Latin leaders, he sought to arrange a marriage with them.64 The details of this meeting will be discussed below, but this aside suggests that Manuel’s marriage to Bertha-­Eirene had stalled because John wished to keep Manuel single in case a beneficial eastern marriage could be gained, and that something similar to the initial plan to marry Constance of Antioch was being considered. What we do know is that Cilicia and Antioch had become accustomed to local rule for the last half-­century; allowing it a level of independence under a young imperial prince, particularly one with a reputation as a Latinophile, might have been regarded as more welcome to local elites than full imperial annexation.65 Further, such an approach would provide benefits for defence and expansion as a local ruler could be proactive on the territory’s behalf. A ruler of this sort uniting this region would both be able to offer protection against Zengi and promote the Christian cause against Ikonion, the Danishmendids, and the Muslims of Syria, while at the same time the emperor and/or his brother Isaac could be carrying out other operations on behalf of the empire.66 John’s age 63  William of Tyre, 15.19, p. 700. 64  Chron. 1234, p. 280. 65  Manuel’s early reputation as a Latinophile may derive from being the youngest child of his Latin mother, but the only supporting evidence, William of Tyre’s assertion that the Latin soldiers in the army welcomed his ascension to the throne and an encomium by Italikos, state that the Latin contingents were indeed under Manuel’s command. During his later reign there are, however, many more examples of his favouring Latins and Latin practices, for example, holding a joust in the Hippodrome in Constantinople: William of Tyre, 15.13, pp. 705–6; Italikos 44, p. 286; NC, p. 382; L.  Jones and H.  Maguire, ‘A Description of the Jousts of Manuel I Komnenos’, BMGS 26 (2002), pp. 104–48. It should, however, be pointed out that for Manuel to be holding a joust this early he should be con­ sidered one of the earliest adopters of jousting, if not one of the earliest pioneers of the sport, and so even this is not a clear-­cut case of him adopting a Latin practice. 66  Lilie agrees that some form of Kinnamos’ plan was likely for the same reasons, while Harris throws it out as unlikely due to the ‘indivisibility of imperial power’, citing a fourteenth-­century condemnation as evidence. In fact, the enduring use of co-­emperorship by John as a co-­emperor with his father and son make such a settlement possible at least, particularly as the plan reported by Kinnamos did not suggest independence, merely that Manuel would administer this as a separate territory, presumably under his father: Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusades, pp. 138–41; Harris, Byzantium and the Crusaders, p. 85, n. 37.

264  Emperor John II Komnenos Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 was another factor, as he was now fifty-­five years old while Isaac was twenty-­nine and Manuel twenty-­four, so 1142–3 would be an obvious time for the emperor to start transitioning to a more sedate lifestyle in the capital while his sons continued to fight on the frontiers. This being so, some form of plan to empower his sons was likely being considered, though with the deaths of Alexios and Andronikos, the exact form of that plan was almost certainly under review. Isaac (and ori­gin­ al­ly Andronikos) had probably been ordered back to Constantinople to reassure the court that all was well despite the deaths, while John considered a new succession plan. Though ageing, he would not have con­sidered that his death was imminent and so it is likely he travelled east considering his options, rather than having already made up his mind, as his heirs would be in a stronger position were John to crown them as co-­emperors back in Constantinople. What is certain is that John aimed to bring Edessa and Antioch into the im­per­ial fold through surprise and overwhelming force if necessary as, though Alexios had only died on 2 August, the emperor had gone through Edessa and was encamped at Gastin, captured during the late Alexios’ last campaign, by 25 September.67 William then relates that the emperor and his ‘incomparable host’ arrived at Turbessel, [Tell Bāshir], described as a very rich fortress just over twenty miles from the Euphrates. Stunning Joscelin with both his sudden arrival and the size of his army, an obvious warning that the emperor’s forces could overwhelm his at any time, John demanded hostages from the count, leading Joscelin to hand over his daughter Isabella.68 William relates that the emperor’s demand was just, taking into consideration Joscelin’s previous reluctance to carry out his orders in 1138: either way, John was taking no chances on Edessa becoming an imperial client this time. Having secured Joscelin’s loyalty, he sent messages to Prince Raymond that he should hand over Antioch according to their previous agreements, in order that war could be waged effectively against their mutual enemies in Muslim Syria.69

The Demand for Antioch John was, thus, picking up exactly where he had left off in 1138. Choniates’ language is unequivocal that John had a ‘burning desire to unite Antioch to Constantinople’.70 If this involved Raymond staying on as a client prince then so be it, but John was resolved to annex Antioch one way or another. William of Tyre again exonerates 67  NC, pp. 38–9; William of Tyre, 15.19, p. 701. 68  William of Tyre, 15.19, p. 701. 69 Ibid.; NC, p. 39. The Anonymous Chronicler relates that John came to Tarsus with a large army and then sent for the Frankish rulers, though considering the alignment of William and Choniates on Turbussel, it is more likely the Chronicler is conflating the meeting with Joscelin and Raymond with that of the Jerusalem envoys described below. Chron. 1234, p. 280. 70  NC, p. 39. Contra: Harris, Byzantium and the Crusaders, p. 85.

The Last Campaigns  265 John from any treaty breaking, since if joining Antioch to the empire was what was necessary in order to safeguard the Holy Land for Christianity, it was entirely justified.71 With Antioch’s citadel and fortifications in hand, John could locate his war chest in the former and use it as a base to gather his army and build siege weapons for the conquest of Syria, as he had intended before. Raymond was now in a difficult position: much as he no doubt desired independence, the protection of the emperor as a distant sovereign, or even Manuel as a local suzerain, was now needed to defend his principality against Zengi. William relates that Raymond had been sending messages calling for the emperor to return for the last few years, and now the emperor was there he could hardly reject him.72 On the other hand, many nobles of his principality were deeply hostile to the idea of any return to imperial suzerainty, with the patriarch and the ‘Italoi’, that is Normans from southern Italy, emphasized by William and Choniates, respectively, as being part of an anti-­Roman camp.73 As before, this faction brought up the fact that the ‘indolence of the Greeks’ had lost the city more than once before, and that they could not hand it over to them in the best interests of the land. A reference to the patriarch and St Peter by William may also suggest that the Latin Church in particular was hostile to John’s suzerainty due to the possibility of their being replaced by Greek clergy. Norman hostility to John had been maintained since the days of Bohemond, and a state of cold war still existed between Roger of Sicily and John despite ongoing marriage negotiations. Nevertheless, they all wished to avoid open war with the emperor, and they could rely on the fact that John would prefer not to take Antioch by storm, as it would ruin his reputation in the west as well as with the Latin east. This being so, they refused John on the basis of feudal law, claiming that Raymond only held the territory due to his marriage to Constance, and neither Raymond nor Constance could transfer sovereignty without the consent of their subjects, or they would be driven out.74 Passing responsibility in this way at the very least played for time. Choniates relates how John knew that if he entered the city now, he would do so only on sworn conditions, such that he would receive only token obedience once more and would then again have to leave without ‘altering anything in its established customs’.75 Further, that he knew how unwise it would be to force entry. It was already too late in the year to carry out a campaign against the Muslims, and the seacoast would be better than the plain when winter came, as John had learned to his cost at Neokaisareia. Thus, John resolved to go to winter quarters in Cilicia with a view to drawing Raymond out with a joint campaign the following 71 Despite William’s exoneration, Lilie sees John’s demand as violating the treaty of 1137, but Parnell had made the point that using Antioch as a base to conquer Raymond’s new territory did not constitute annexing the territory. Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusades, p. 136; Parnell, ‘John II Comnenus and Crusader Antioch’, pp. 155–7. 72  William of Tyre, 15.20, pp. 701–2. 73  Ibid., p. 126; NC, p. 39. 74  William of Tyre, 15.20, p. 702. 75  NC, p. 39.

266  Emperor John II Komnenos Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 year. Even so, he did not leave without a show of force. John allowed his troops to pillage the suburbs and even strip the fruit trees for both fruit and firewood as he pulled back, though he forbade any waging of war against Christians so these were presumably Antiochene suburbs populated by Muslims.76 Though undoubtedly frustrated to be refused yet again, John was able to go to Cilicia with the thought that the New Year would easily see all of his goals fulfilled in Syria, as William points out.77 His likelihood of success can also be seen by the presence of a Genoese embassy at John’s camp at Antioch negotiating for trade privileges, presumably because they believed he would shortly take the city.78 With the maritime republics backing him, an imperial annexation of Antioch in the New Year seemed imminent, and further gains in the Levant and Syria beyond. Meanwhile, John could rest his forces that had once more been on campaign for a year and a half, and he was able to bolster his position further in Cilicia.

Winter in Cilicia: The Jerusalem Proposal While John’s sons had their funerals back in Constantinople, the emperor spent the winter at the ancient city of Tarsus, from which we see the shape of his intentions after Antioch.79 From here, he sent an ‘embassy of the highest nobility’ to King Fulk of Jerusalem, explaining that he wished to visit the kingdom for the purpose of prayer and devotion, and to lend aid against the enemy in those parts.80 This desire is also expressed by John in the speech Choniates relates at his death, by Kinnamos where he describes a planned visit to Palestine and how John gave a lampstand made of twenty talents of gold to the Holy Sepulchre, and by a poem of Prodromos where this same donation is recorded.81 Regarding this goal, even William is sceptical, relating that this plan was to ‘dissimulabat mentis conceptum’ (to disguise his real purpose).82 That purpose may have been the recognition of his imperial status by Fulk, who up until now had been able to avoid meeting John and so evade any possibility of having to acknowledge the emperor’s superior rank.83 Provision for Orthodox Christians in the kingdom of Jerusalem may also have been on the agenda.84 As we saw, John’s cousin Adrian had travelled all over the kingdom during John’s last eastern expedition, and we must assume he gave a full report to John about its current state, and how John’s rule might benefit from further involvement there. 76  Ibid., pp. 39–40. 77  William of Tyre, 15.21, p. 702. 78  Annali genovesi di Caffaro, p. 31; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusades, p. 138. 79  Italikos 11, p. 132. 80  William of Tyre, 15.21, p. 702; Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusades, p. 138. 81  NC, p. 42; JK, p. 25; Prodromos, XXII, lines 1–16. 82  William of Tyre, 15.21, p. 702. 83 Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusades, p. 137. 84 Harris, Byzantium and the Crusaders, p. 86; J. Pahlitzsch and D. Baraz, ‘Christian Communities in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem’, Christian and Christianity in the Holy Land: From the Origins to the Latin Kingdoms (Turnhout, 2006), pp. 206–13.

The Last Campaigns  267 Indeed, John’s donation of the lamp to the Holy Sepulchre suggests he had intended to follow up his cousin’s visit with further displays of imperial favour. John had also maintained a titular patriarch of Jerusalem, with the current incumbent being Patriarch Nicholas (c.1122–c.1156).85 Even if this was more for giving weight to synodal decisions in the capital rather than for undermining the authority of the Latin patriarchs, with John planning to go to Jerusalem he could well have wished to impose a similar religious settlement there as he had planned for Antioch.86 Even if these plans were too ambitious, John could certainly have benefitted from Fulk’s support for imperial claims on Antioch and Edessa, and the kingdom becoming an imperial ally in a similar way to Venice. These political gains would all be in addition to the prestige and fame John would accrue for being the first Roman emperor to visit Jerusalem and the Holy Land since Heraclius in 629. His brother and cousin had now both visited, and, considering John’s known piety, such a pilgrimage was very much in keeping with his personality, particularly as he had begun to enter old age and two of his sons had just died. It should also be mentioned that many Christian communities were aware of the prophecy of the last emperor: a Christian eschatological tradition whereby a Roman Emperor would fight for many years against the enemies of the faith before relinquishing power in Jerusalem, ushering in the end of days.87 With the death of his sons, it is not completely outlandish to consider whether John’s faith could have led him to believe that he might be the prophesied emperor who would begin the apocalypse (and, eventually, God’s kingdom on earth). Even if that were not the case, an emperor going to Jerusalem would have had immense propaganda value, as others would certainly have ascribed a great deal of meaning to a Roman Emperor visiting the holy city.88 The year 1143 therefore appears as the one when John intended to reshape the Levant in the best interests of the empire through agreement and warfare, much as he had done in the Balkans in 1129. Imperial power in the region would not only be restored to mid-­eleventh century levels, but with Jerusalem as a client or ally John would even surpass his predecessors.89 Such a settlement would allow 85 V. Grumel, La Chronologie (Paris, 1958), p. 448; Grumel, Les Regestes des actes du Patriarchat de Constantinople I, no. 1038. 86 Hamilton, Latin Church in the Crusader States, pp. 180–1. 87 P.  Alexander, ‘The Medieval Legend of the Last Roman Emperor and Its Messianic Origin’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 41 (1978), pp. 1–15; A.  Kraft, ‘The Last Roman Emperor “Topos” in the Byzantine Apocalyptic Tradition’, Byzantion 82 (2012), pp. 213–57. 88 On propaganda and prophecy, see: P.  Magdalino, ‘The History of the Future and its Uses: Prophecy, Policy and Propaganda’, The Expansion of Orthodox Europe. Byzantium, the Balkans and Russia, ed. J. Shepard (Aldershot, 2007), pp. 29–64. Matthew of Edessa may well have seen John conforming to Armenian prophecies of the emperor who would deliver them from the Turks, see: Lau, ‘A Dream Come True?’, esp. pp. 160–2. 89 The extent to which the emperors of the eleventh century might have wished to conquer Jerusalem is argued to be quite low by Shepherd, but with a Christian king now holding these lands, the situation had certainly changed. See  J.  Shephard, ‘Holy Land, Lost Lands, Realpolitik: Imperial Byzantine Thinking about Syria and Palestine in the Later 10th and 11th Centuries’, Al-­Qant ̣ara 33 (2012), pp. 505–45.

268  Emperor John II Komnenos Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 John and his heirs to focus on Anatolia and Southern Italy from that point forward, as his Ikonion campaign and Italian negotiations imply. Fulk replied with an embassy of his own, containing some of the most highly ranked figures of the realm to convince the emperor of his sincerity. Anselm, Bishop of Bethlehem, Rohard, Castellan of Jerusalem, and Geoffrey, Abbot of the Temple of the Lord (who was well versed in Greek), conveyed to John that Fulk would be happy to welcome him to his kingdom, but that its small size meant that he would not be able to support such a large army. Could he, therefore, only bring ten thousand men with him as escort?90 William tells us John abandoned his intentions at this point, supposedly because bringing only ten thousand men was not in keeping with his imperial dignity. Whether he could not hope to carry out his objectives without a large army, or whether he merely shelved his plans for another occasion (as with naval support, he would be more than able to supply the army himself) is unknown. However, the Anonymous Syriac Chronicle tells us that this meeting also discussed a marriage proposal that would bring everyone together in agreement and ‘true love’.91 Though unmentioned by other sources, a marriage alliance between Manuel and Constance had been the original plan to reconcile the imperial and crusader lords of the east, and this design was eventually carried through by Manuel, whose second wife was to be Constance’s daughter (not born until 1145). The chronicler could, of course, be alluding to this in advance, though there were a few potential brides of sufficient status already in existence. The two main possibilities were Joscelin’s two daughters: Agnes of Courtenay was around eight years old at this time, and considering she was to marry five times (including one king of Jerusalem), with the first marriage at age fifteen, she was perpetually one of the most eligible brides in the region.92 Her sister Isabella, at this time a hostage of John’s as noted above, is a more shadowy figure, though she later would perhaps marry Thoros II, son of Leon of Cilicia.93 Whether this was the case or not, King Fulk’s own children and those of his predecessor Baldwin II were all either married or in holy orders. As such, betrothing Manuel to one of Joscelin’s daughters was the best way to marry Manuel into the crusader nobility. Though this is a unique reference, it once more suggests that John was intending to anchor the empire into the region. Regardless, John did not intend to spend the last period of his Cilician stay unprofitably. In early spring, shortly before the season ‘kings ordinarily lead forth their armies to war’ in the words of William, our sources find him hunting near

90  William of Tyre, 15.21, p. 703. 91 Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos, p. 24; Chron. 1234, p. 280. 92 See: B.  Hamilton, ‘Women in the Crusader States: The Queens of Jerusalem (1100–1190)’, Medieval Women, ed. D. Baker (Oxford, 1978), pp. 159–60. 93 W.  Rüdt de Collenberg, ‘L᾽empereur Isaac de Chypre et sa fille (1155–1207)’, Byzantion 38 (1968), p. 130, though no primary source is mentioned for this, and so it is disputed in all other works.

The Last Campaigns  269 Anazarbus.94 This trip was likely not merely for sport, but a social event to bring local elites further into the imperial fold. Anazarbus had been Prince Leon’s old seat, and, thus, probably the centre of any anti-­Roman party of local nobles. The empire’s newly integrated province would surely have benefitted from imperial visits as they could then fall into old patterns of imperial rule. But, unfortunately for John, the process of integration, and his plans for a Levantine settlement, were cut short.

The Death of John Since at least the ruminations of Browning in 1961, the question of whether John was murdered has been debated.95 There is no indication of foul play in any of the narrative histories, or indeed those court sources Browning believes may imply foul play, as those sources are almost certainly referring to fates dealing an untimely blow to the empire rather than to any conspiracy or assassination. The way in which John received a fatal wound varies from one source to another, but the crucial details are that John was afoot hunting a boar with a spear when he was thrown backwards and the arrows in his quiver cut his palm.96 Whether through poison or merely infection, the wound became inflamed and, despite the doctors lancing the swelling, the pain only grew worse.97 John refused to allow the doctors to amputate, supposedly with the line that it would be unbecoming for the Roman Empire to be ruled by one hand.98 This pride in refusing the doctors’ advice concerning the bandage is related especially by Kinnamos, in such a way that the implication is that had the emperor not been so stubborn, he might have lived.99 Choniates meanwhile fills his account with portents: the valley where John was resting was filled with heavy rains, so that the imperial couch had to be moved, leading John supposedly to quote the prophecies known as the Oracles of Leo the Wise: specifically that an emperor would fall in watery places, and then another where an emperor would become food for crows, referring to both the sizzling irons that cauterized his wound and his location in the 94  William of Tyre, 15.22, pp. 704–15.23, p. 706; NC, p. 40; JK, p. 24; Gregory the Priest, p. 242; Chron. 1234, p. 280. 95  R. Browning, ‘The Death of John II Comnenus’, Byzantion 31 (1961), pp. 229–35; cf. M. Lau, The Suspicious Case of the Death of Emperor John II Komnenos—­ Cui Bono?, Delivered at Leeds International Medieval Congress 2012: https://www.academia.edu/8542942/The_Suspicious_Case_ of_the_Death_of_Emperor_John_II_Komnenos_-­_Cui_Bono. 96  William of Tyre, 15.22, p. 704; NC, p. 40; JK, p. 24. The anonymous chronicler mentions a deer rather than a boar, Chron. 1234, p. 280. 97  The possibility that it may have been an infection rather than poison is advocated by J. Lascaratus and D. Voros, ‘The Fatal Wounding of Emperor John II Comnenus’, Journal of Wound Care 7 (1998), pp.  195–6; K.  Markatos, A.  Papaioannou, M.  Karamanou, and G.  Androutsos, ‘The Death of the Byzantine Emperor John II Komnenos (1087–1143)’, Acta Chirurgica Belgica 118.2 (2018), pp. 132–6. 98  William of Tyre, 15.22, pp. 704–5; Chron. 1234, p. 280.    99  JK, pp. 24–5.

270  Emperor John II Komnenos Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 mountains at a place called the Crows’ Nest.100 If there is some truth to this, perhaps this evidences the bitter realization that John was not to be a prophesied saviour any longer, or indeed some wistfulness on Choniates’ part that John died before his designs could be completed. In any case, on 4 April, Easter Sunday, John took communion and then allowed any to petition him, doing so again on 5 April at the suggestion of Axouch.101 In William’s account, this was where John spe­cif­ic­al­ly consulted with his commanders as to the succession, which his imminent death had made a pressing issue.102 Though Choniates, Kinnamos, and William all have John decide that Manuel must succeed in order to safeguard the army, and indeed that his qualities may have been superior to Isaac’s, in an oration by Italikos addressed to Manuel in 1143, he describes the army acclaiming Manuel as emperor, and then John merely ‘nodding assent’.103 It is notable that both Italikos and Choniates indicate that Manuel had wide popular support.104 This is by no means conclusive, but it does suggest that Manuel connived at his own succession by getting the army on his side, and thereby forced his father to name him sole emperor, rather than Isaac, or both sons as co-­emperors. As to the suggestion that John’s death was murder, we need to consider whether any party benefitted, and who had opportunity. Manuel benefitted, but he may well have accomplished his goal through a year’s campaigning alone with his father, and it is difficult to believe that he or his party would actively hurt imperial interests in the Levant when they were so close to fulfilment. Cilician nobles would have no guarantee that prince Leon and his sons would ever escape from Constantinople, and so killing John would hardly have secured their objectives. Latin and Turkish enemies of John are unlikely to have had sufficient opportunity to tamper with John’s arrows or his treatment so as to be able to assassinate him. What is more, though John’s death did hamper imperial designs in the region, with Manuel and Isaac alive and having campaigned with John for so many years, there would be no reason to suggest that his sons would improve the situation for any of the empire’s enemies, as would eventually prove the case when Manuel forced Prince Raymond to supplicate at John’s tomb, finally realizing his father’s goal of rendering Antioch a loyal imperial client.105 Together with the medical

100  NC, pp. 40–1, ns. 94–5; Leo ‘the Wise’, Leonis, Romanorum Imperatoris Augusti Opera, PG 107, 1132B.2 and 1129B.4, respectively. For an introduction to this text and a translation of the Amsterdam manuscript, see: Sapientissimi imperatoris Leonis oracula & Anonymi Narratio de Vero Imperatore [The Oracles of the Most Wise Emperor Leo & The Tale of the True Emperor] (Amstelodamensis Graecus VI E 8) Text, Translation and Introduction, ed. W. G. Brokaar et al. (Amsterdam, 2002), pp. 63 and 58, respectively. 101  NC, p. 41. 102  William of Tyre, 15.23, p. 705. 103  Italikos 44, p. 290. The anonymous chronicler merely notes that Manuel was proclaimed emperor while John still lived, see: Chron. 1234, p. 280. 104  NC, p. 46. Choniates mentions that Manuel was acclaimed as emperor as if he had been elected. 105  JK, p. 35.

The Last Campaigns  271 evidence suggesting infection, the case for John having been murdered is therefore quite unlikely. John died four days later, on 8 April. His body was conveyed to Mopsuestia and thence by ship to Constantinople to be buried at the imperial monastery of Christ Pantokrator, where his son Isaac had been imprisoned by Axouch to facilitate Manuel’s accession.106 His death left the Christians of the east without a major power protecting them from Zengi, leading to the fall of Edessa almost two years later in 1144, and with it the declaration of the Second Crusade. The emperor’s last years had almost seen the fulfilment of a life spent attempting the restoration of Roman power. One more summer could well have seen the Latins of the Levant coming to ressemble varying ranks of imperial clients as the Serbs, Pechenegs, and Italian maritime republics had before, and a status quo reached with Zengi of the sort that had previously been arranged with the Hungarians. With this settlement accomplished, Ikonion would have been ripe for conquest after the Lake campaign, and with the Danishmendids occupied in civil war there had never been a better time for Anatolian conquests. Diplomatic initiatives with the Papacy, the Germans and the Italian cities had secured the coalition against Roger once more, so that southern Italy was also open to im­per­ ial expansion. Though the death of Alexios and Andronikos had been a serious blow, it was not a mortal one to imperial power with Isaac and Manuel still alive and able to work with their father in his old age on behalf of the empire. John’s last expeditions demonstrate once more that he appears to have operated a policy whereby whenever the Turks fought each other, he would campaign in other arenas, but when they were united, he gave them his full attention. These campaigns in Anatolia and his last journey east do, however, also demonstrate better than any other feature of his reign how the deeds of individual actors could change the shape of a political field dramatically. The treachery of his nephew John resulted in failure at Neokaisareia, the death of Mohammed in renewed Turkish civil war and the facilitation of John’s final eastern campaign, and the death of Alexios in the retreat from Ikonion. The death of John and his intended heir left his plans undone, and the situation had entirely changed by the time Manuel could consider completing his father’s unfinished goals. We are therefore left asking how significant any of John’s achievements were, or whether they all proved ephemeral in the face of his untimely death. Though his greatest ambitions were not to be fulfilled, any claim that his deeds were evanescent at best must first acknowledge the renewal of the empire in Anatolia in particular, and especially the fortresses John built that we can still see today.

106  Ibid., p. 29; NC, pp. 48–50: KC, Chronik 6.3, p. 58; Chronik 14.79, p. 145. Al-­Azimi relates 10 April, al-­Azimi, p. 150.

Ten

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army The Komnenian period is one that has often been analysed through the lens of Constantinople’s fall to the armies of the Fourth Crusade in 1204. A parallel can here be made with the characterization of the history and literature of the former East Germany as ‘Ende schlecht, alles schlecht’: because the regime ended in failure, everything about it is seen as a failure.1 No matter how competent John and his regime may have been at war or diplomacy, the fall of Constantinople is held up as more than enough reason to assume that something must have been rotten in the medieval Roman state, as the empire did not last more than sixty-­one years after John died. The Komnenian relationship with the provinces has been dismissed as ‘apathetic and ignorant’ with Constantinople as a ‘parasite’ that sought to extract all it could while giving nothing back at worst, or ‘liberal . . . and incurious’ at best.2 However, this cause and effect is less straightforward than it would first appear: the fall of Constantinople was followed by the emergence of Roman successor states in regions that prior to the Komnenoi had been overrun by Turks and ­others: in particular the so-­called Nicaean Empire thrived and expanded in Anatolia, eventually retaking Constantinople in 1261.3 This being so, John’s conquests there should be viewed as far more than ‘ephemeral’, considering such Anatolian territories remained in Roman hands longer than Constantinople itself. Their survival must be due in no small measure to a successful restoration of Roman government in these lands after their conquest, the reclamation and retention of which came about through the construction of an extensive network of fortifications that embraced whole regions rather than only protecting population centres. Much more than simply establishing a frontier zone of control or march, these fortresses were used to carry out active defence of the regions where they were built, able to support each other in case of invasion by enemies, while also controlling lines of communication and logistics and facilitating future

1 H. Mayer, Der Turm von Babel: Erinnerung an eine Deutsche Demokratische Republik (Frankfurt, 1991), p. 17. With thanks to Aoife Ní Chroidheáin for this apt comparison. 2 J.  Haldon, ‘Social Élites, Wealth, and Power’, The Social History of Byzantium, ed. J.  Haldon (Chichester, 2009), pp. 179–80; Herrin, ‘Realities of Provincial Government’, esp. p. 83. Kazhdan and Epstein, Change in Byzantine Culture, p. 46; Neville, ‘Authority in Provincial Society’, passim, esp. p. 118; Öztürk, Provincial Aristocracy, p. 150. 3 Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 124.

Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143. Maximilian C. G. Lau, Oxford University Press. © Maximilian C. G. Lau 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198888673.003.0011

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  273 conquests by the Romans. Within these regions, monasteries and churches were also constructed, and textual evidence demonstrates the restoration of civil as well as ecclesiastical provincial administration. Backing all of this up was an army that won battles and sieges more often than not, which has also received relatively ­little scholarly attention considering John’s reputation as a ‘warrior-­emperor’.4 This chapter will consequently outline John’s fortification network, assessing how it was at the heart of his strategy both to reclaim and to retain lands, before examining the restoration of Byzantine provincial administration and the army under John.

Building Security in Anatolia The control of fortified sites was crucial for the enduring success of John’s ­campaigns. In surviving accounts of these campaigns from both the Balkans and Anatolia, we find much of the action centred around named fortresses and cities. John’s capture of Laodikeia and Sozopolis in his first years had opened the route to Attaleia, while Kastamon and Gangra had been the keys to Paphlagonia. Likewise, control over the river and valley fortresses of the Danube and the Serb lands was critical to John’s success in defence of the Balkans during the war with Raška and Hungary. Conversely, John’s failure to take Neokaisareia and Aleppo prevented any similar conquests of Cappadocia and Syria. These sites were crucial in controlling roads and rivers, establishing security in the surrounding countryside, and by facilitating future campaigns, allowed John to put pressure on neighbouring powers. When it comes to Anatolia though, John built new fortifications in order to restore and extend his control over territory. Though we are fortunate that some of these fortifications are attested in our written sources, in many cases they are not. Further fortresses dating to this period can, however, be identified on the basis of masonry type and strategic positioning. As shown in Chapter One, we are fortunate that Komnenian period fortifications have an especially dis­tinct­ ive masonry style, based around bands of brick and stone courses, often with decorative cloisonné. These features narrow dating down to the reigns of Alexios, John, or Manuel, but we can then more decisively date a fortress to the reign of each specific emperor by cross referencing the location with where John was campaigning in the literary sources. Through this identification, we can appreciate how John built up a network of fortifications across the Anatolia, such that it 4  Cf. J. Haldon, Warfare, State and Society; McGeer, Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth; Treadgold, Byzantium and Its Army; M.  Bartusis, The Late Byzantine Army: Arms and Society, 1204–1453 (Philadelphia, 1992); S.  Kyriakidis, Warfare in Late Byzantium, 1204–1453 (Leiden, 2011); A Companion to the Byzantine Culture of War, ca. 300–1204, ed. Y. Stouraitis (Leiden, 2018). The only dedicated study is Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, which has been noted in reviews to be restricted in its sources and secondary scholarship and to contain a number of contradictory statements. See: Bartusis, ‘Review of Birkemeier’s Development of the Komnenian Army’, pp. 136–9; Kaldellis, ‘Review of Birkenmeier’s Development of the Komnenian Army’, pp. 91–3.

274  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 should be no surprise that the strongest Roman successor state, that of Nicaea, emerged here after 1204. Beginning with those attested in the literary sources, the lynchpin of John’s offensive and defensive operations in Anatolia was the fortress city of Lopadion, mentioned multiple times in our texts.5 Though not a newly constructed settlement as contemporary sources imply, the long walls and towers put around the more than ten-­hectare site demonstrate how this was the jewel in the crown of John’s Anatolian building projects. It was a small city but large enough to support the court away from Constantinople and serve as a staging post for the main imperial field army. Its location on the River Rhyndakos and the east-­west road also put it in constant contact with the rest of the Anatolian frontier and the remainder of the empire.6 The only other fortification mentioned by Choniates in Anatolia by name is Achyraous, located just over 100 km south of Lopadion as the crow flies, though closer to 150 km following the river valleys to the west.7 It was built on the banks of the River Makestos (the modern Susurluk), to the south of the modern town of Balıkeşir. In addition to guarding the river, it is on the main west-­east Roman road between the Mysian plain and coastal provinces of Lydia and Ionia, making its location central to the major arteries of transport and communication across this region of Anatolia.8 The largest towers are also the ones that face the road, which, coupled with the highly decorative nature of the fortress, demonstrate the importance of the visual statement it made about the restoration of imperial power in the region; indeed, it has more in common with contemporary church buildings than some other fortresses.9 This could be evidence that John wished this crossroads fortress to be especially magnificent, perhaps serving as an ‘imperial monument’ to stability in the region.10 Despite this, the two larger towers of Achyraous may also reveal that this fortress was built quickly and economically without sacrificing defence, as, Choniates’ account implies. The original five towers dominate the hilltop, while the main gate is protected by the right angle of the wall and the east by the drop down to the river. This is a well-­planned defensive design, but its small size means that it could not have held much of a garrison or been any sort of invasion-­stopping fortress on its own, unlike contemporary crusader castles, which had curtain walls and earthworks to dissuade would-­be attackers.11 Nor was it meant to be, as 5  For full discussion, see: Lau, ‘Ioannoupolis’, pp. 435–64. 6  Avramea, ‘Land and Sea Communications’, pp. 76, 83. 7  NC, p. 33. 8  Foss, ‘Defences of Asia Minor’, p. 162; Avramea, ‘Land and Sea Communications’, p. 76. 9  Cf. Chapter One and other ecclesiastical buildings mentioned in this chapter. 10  Foss, ‘Defences of Asia Minor’, p. 162. There is also the possibility that soldiers from the army itself were deployed as builders when not actively campaigning, a suggestion supported by the Kosmosoteira typikon where Isaac’s vestiaritai are mentioned as having built his monastery. See ‘Kosmosoteira’, tr. Ševčenko, p. 846. 11 See H. Kennedy, Crusader Castles (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 112–13. For both the visual and prac­ tical value of Byzantine fortifications, see: N. Bakirtzis, ‘The Practice, Perception and Experience of Byzantine Fortification’ in The Byzantine World, ed. P. Stephenson (London, 2010), p. 356.

0 0

100 yards 100 metres

Figure 43  Plan of Lopadion above, showing the bridge across the Rhyndakos at the top right and the towers of the south wall. The towers are shown more clearly in the photo below. The bridge foundations today on land show clearly how the river used to be much wider.

276  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 44  Bridge over the Rhyndakos, showing a rebuilding that may have occurred following an earthquake, located next to the ruins of a nineteenth-­century bridge and with the modern road bridge marginally further downriver, demonstrating the enduring importance of this location as a crossing point (despite the contraction of the town due to the silting up of the river shown clearly in the first photo), and how, with a wider river, this bridge would have been essential.

rather than seeking to prevent an invasion on their own, Achyraous and Lopadion operated as part of a network of fortifications along the roads, rivers, and coasts of Anatolia, that improved upon the fortifications built by Alexios I. The decoration used at these two sites is an expression of the wealth and power of John’s government, which is only emphasized by the number of other fortifications built in close proximity to them. Beyond these two fortifications, similarities in masonry and strategic positioning, following the model of Lopadion and Achyraous, are our guide for further sites. About 55 km south-­west along the valley from Lopadion and less than 100 km north and downriver on the Makestos from Achyraous is the modern village of Sultançayır. This is the site of a large Constantinian bridge over the Makestos, which in the late twentieth century still had some remnants of a Byzantine fortification with the same decorative zig-­zag cloisonné masonry as Achyraous.12 Where 12 Foss and Winfield, Byzantine Fortifications, pp. 191–2; see fig. 57 for the site as Foss saw it. Unfortunately, during fieldwork in 2013 the site seemed to have disappeared, while the Makestos bridge is

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  277

Figure 45  Achyraous from across the dam, showing the two monumental, decorative towers and its position in the landscape. In Foss’ study from the 1980s you can see grainy photos of other unidentified ruins and this fortress atop a hill above the old road. See: Foss, ‘Defences of Asia Minor against the Turks’, p. 162.

Sultançayır is on the same river as Achyraous, the ruins of Pegadia are on the same road, only 30 km to the west and at a site that Anna Komnene mentions was threatened in her father’s day by the Turks as they sought to break back through to the coast. Thus, these four sites gave John control over the roads and rivers in the region, and therefore the ability to protect the area as a whole.13 also in an increasingly dilapidated state compared to its appearance in 1902: T.  Wiegand: ‘Reisen in Mysien’, Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Athenische Abteilung 29 (1904), pp. 300–1. 13  Foss, ‘The Defences of Asia Minor’, pp. 189–91; AK, 14.3, pp. 434–5. Recent mining operations have caused huge damage to the Sultançayır site when I visited in 2013, but the zig-­zag pattern was in evidence as a determiner of stylistic dating in Foss’ 1980s images. This was in addition to the terminus post quem of Alexios’ reign established by the Alexiad, and the likelihood that Manuel would not have built a fortress so far behind his borders (and that had he done so it would have been more extensively reported upon). As for Pegadia, there was very little remaining even when the site was first surveyed in the 1830s, but the remains of nine towers can be seen according to Z.  Mercangöz, ‘Bizans Çağında Balıkesir’, Bitek Kent: Balıkesir, ed. F. Özdem (Istanbul, 2003), p. 39; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, pp. 70–2.

278  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 46  Sultançayır Makestos Constantinian bridge in 2014, demonstrating how the site has degraded since both Foss’ fieldwork and particularly since Wiegand’s fieldwork in the early twentieth century, based on the former’s descriptions and the latter’s drawings below.

Alexios had previously established fortresses further east of these four at Akrotos and Aizanoi, and further inland still is the fortress of Kotyaion. Although the ­latter is often assumed to be a fortress of Manuel’s due to its eastern location, the existence of two phases of construction typified by Komnenian masonry, as well as its location between Akrotos and Aizanoi, make an initial construction during the reign of John more likely.14 This is in addition to the implications of the otherwise unattested victory that Prodromos tells us John won at Amorion, which is another 100 km even further east.15 John could well have taken this territory, fortified it, and then continued the fight further into enemy territory, just as he did in Paphlagonia. The fortifications at Sultançayır, Achyraous, and Lopadion were built to the west of these eastern fortresses, evidencing that they were not constructed in order to defend a hard frontier, but as part of a deep network of fortifications that would protect the routes and countryside of the region. 14 C.  Foss, Survey of Medieval Castles of Anatolia I: Kütahya (Oxford, 1985), pp. 64–79; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, pp. 91–3. 15  Prodromos IV, line 273.

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  279 HOEHE DER FAHRBAHN

STROMSEITE HOEHE DER ANSCHWEMMUNG 1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

15

20 M

4,30

0

ca. 14,20 ca. 17,80

JETZIGES FLUSSBETT

ALTES FLUSSBETT 0

50

100

200 M

BRÜCKE ÜBER DEN MAKESTOS BEI SULTANTSCHAIR.

Figure 47  Plan of the Makestos bridge: Wiegand, ‘Reisen in Mysien’, p. 301.

This network then continues south to the fortified cities of Laodikeia and Sozopolis, reconquered by John in his first campaigns as emperor and the stra­ tegic locations of which were discussed in Chapter Three. Choniates tells us John built walls around the former, while the latter evidences the usual Komnenian cloisonné technique, though of stone rather than brick, leading Deluigi to speculate that John carried out repairs here using spolia from the walls built by Emperor Romanos IV in the eleventh century.16 The never-­conquered, though thus far unidentified, fortress of Choma just to the east of Sozopolis would bolster this network further, as would the fortress of Tabala. The latter guarded the eastern approach to the city of Philadelphia and overlooked the River Hermos, while at the same time being equidistant between the more northern fortification group of  Achyraous et alia mentioned above, and the southern fortification group of

16  NC, p. 12; Foss, ‘Defences of Asia Minor’, 153–7; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, pp. 66–7. Cf. Chapter Three.

280  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 48  The towers of Kotyaion, Photo Credit Dosseman.

Sozopolis, Choma, and Laodikeia.17 Further south still is the fortress city of Attaleia (modern Antalya), together with the fortresses of Trebenna and Yarbaşçandır Kalesi, the location and masonry of which make them likely products of John’s reign. These are both found near the coast west of Attaleia, and they were likely built either in the first years of John’s reign when he reopened the land routes across Anatolia through recapturing Laodikeia and Sozopolis, or perhaps around 1141–2 when John is described as spending time there to ‘bring order to the ­surrounding provinces’.18 Together with the formidable defences of Attaleia itself, these would extend the network all the way to the southern coast, aiding the defence of the region from sea-­borne threats as well as any daring Turkish raids coming across the mountain passes from Ikonion.19 Attaleia and these forts also had a role to play in the communications and logistics network that kept John’s forces in contact and supplied while on campaign. 17 Foss assigns the site as a Laskarid foundation, while Deluigi sees the northern wall as Komnenian: C. Foss, ‘Late Byzantine Fortifications in Lydia’, JÖB 28 (1979), p. 319; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, p. 125. 18  JK, 22; NC, 37; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, pp. 72–4, based on: E. Akyürek, ‘The Bey Dağları in the Byzantine Period: Trebenna, Neapolis and their Territories’, The IIIrd Symposium on Lycia 07–10 November 2005, Antalya Symposium Proceedings, ed. K. Dörtlük, B. Varkıvanç, T. Kahya, J. Des Courtils, M. Doğan Alparslan, and R. Boyraz (Antalya, 2006), pp. 6–7 for Yarbaşçandır Kalesi; Akyürek, ‘On İkinci Yüzyılda Batı Pamphylia’da Bizans Varlığıμ Arkeolojik Buluntular Işığında Bir Değerlendirme’, 1. Uluslararası Sevgi Gönül Bizans Araştırmaları Sempozyumu Bildiriler [Papers of the First Sevgi Gönül Memorial Symposium 2007], ed. A. Ödekan, E. Akyürek, and N. Necipoğlu (Istanbul, 2010), p. 234 for Trebenna. 19  ‘The Cities of Pamphylia in the Byzantine Age’, Cities, Fortresses, and Villages of Byzantine Asia Minor, ed. C. Foss (Brookfield, Vermont, 1996), p. 8.

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  281

Figure 49  Though much of the walls of Attaleia are Ottoman or modern restorations, there are small sections that underneath the graffiti and plant life appear to have Komnenian style brickwork, with one examples shown here (L). Considering Attaleia had been the base from which Alexios, John, and Manuel had sought to secure the entire south coast, it is reasonable to assume they frequently repaired the fortifications that were originally built in the tenth century. The (R) photo looks south over Attaleia’s defensive walls that stand above the harbour; local scholarship assigns a set of steps near here to the reign of Alexios Komnenos, who had them built for the Venetians to go from the city to the harbour. The right of the photo shows the southern peninsula of the Cilician coast as it stretches westwards.

This is why we find further north-­south fortifications built along the Aegean and Marmaran coasts in the period, as multiple strongpoints would have been needed to pass messages and supplies swiftly either by the coastal road or by ship, or to provide further garrisons in support of the eastward fortresses when needed. Three small fortresses overlook the southern part of the Aegean coast: Anaia near Ephesos, and then Didyma (Hieron) and Iasos further south in the gulf of Karia, and all three are in better condition than Sultançayır and Pegadia.20 Anaia 20 Anaia: W.  Müller-­ Wiener, ‘Mittelalterliche Befestigungen im südlichen Ionien’, Istanbuler Mitteilungen 11 (1961), p. 70; Foss and Winfield, Byzantine Fortifications, p. 146; Z.  Mercangöz, ‘Emporion ve Kommerkion Olarak Anaia’nɩn Değişken Tarihsel Yazgɩsɩ’, 1. Uluslararası Sevgi Gönül Bizans Araştırmaları Sempozyumu Bildiriler [Papers of the First Sevgi Gönül Memorial Symposium 2007], ed. A. Ödekan, E. Akyürek, and N. Necipoğlu (Istanbul, 2010), pp. 284–5; Turnator, Turning the Economic Tables, pp. 225–6. Didyma: E. Ragia, ‘The Inscription of Didyma (Hieron) and the Families of Phokas and Karantnos in Western Asia Minor (12th–13th C.)’, BZ 100 (2007), pp. 133–46. Iasos: M.  Cornieti, ‘Fortificazioni Urbane di Frontiera in Asia Minore: Le Difese di Iasos di Caria in Età

282  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 sits on a hill overlooking the coast protecting the plain and the Aegean Sea lanes.21 It has double or triple courses of brick between stone masonry and an irregular vertical cloisonné present in its sixteen towers, enclosing an area of 130 m. There is a larger tower on the corner facing the plain (the most vulnerable part of the fortress, and a good lookout point for any enemy) and three around the small gateway less than 15 m away, which, in a similar manner to Achyraous, would provide effective use of enfilading fire with arrows, which is evidenced by numerous slits.22 Iasos and Didyma were both classical cities that were still inhabited with reduced populations in this period; these fortresses were built using ma­ter­ ials from the old city, with Iasos even using the classical acropolis. They similarly overlook the sea in the Karian Gulf as well as the main coastal road. Though there is much greater use of spolia in the construction of these fortresses, Didyma can be dated to 1103/4 by an in situ inscription, while at Iasos we find distinctive Komnenian brick cloisonné in the walls and an additional tower built to defend the approach to the western port in the late eleventh century.23 These forts are sited at strategic positions along the coastal road, built to be competently defensive but on a small scale. It is striking that there was no Venetian assault against the coastal mainland in the 1120s, possibly evidencing its greater defences compared to the islands that were raided by the Venetians. In addition to deterring and defending against raiders, the location of these fortresses on transport routes provided for the defence of the entire local region, increasing the speed of any imperial response as well as reassuring the local people (leading to the growth of settlements in these areas, as discussed below). The multiple functions of these sites is epitomized in the construction of both walls and cisterns at Pegae (modern Karabiga) on the Sea of Marmara. Located c.130 km west of Lopadion along the coast, Pegae has a convoluted archaeological history, due in the first place to its being built on the site of the classical city of Priapos, meaning many of the buildings feature extensive spolia, and in the second to becoming a major city under the Laskarids in the thirteenth century.24 Before that time, it both supplied the armies of Frederick Barbarossa in 1190 and was used as a staging post by the Latin Empire for the Latins’ attempted conquest of Anatolia in the early thirteenth century, highlighting the use of the site to supply armies.25 Pegae consists of a fortress on the north side and then a wall running across the peninsula with multiple towers, and no less than four cisterns. Though Bizantina’, La Transgiordania nei secoli XII–­ XIII e le ‘frontiere’ del Mediterraneo medievale, ed. G. Vannini and M. Nucciotti (Oxford, 2012), pp. 449–57. 21  Foss, and Winfield, Byzantine Fortifications, p. 146; figs. 44–5. 22  Foss, ‘Defences of Asia Minor’, pp. 184–5. 23 Cornieti, ‘Le Difese di Iasos’, pp. 451–5; Ragia, ‘Inscription at Didyma’, pp. 135–7. For this inscription, see below. 24  W.  Aylward ‘The Byzantine Fortifications at Pegae (Priapus) on the Sea of Marmara’, Studia Troica 16 (2006), pp. 179–203; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, pp. 76–7. 25  ‘The History of the Expedition of the Emperor Frederick’, The Crusade of Frederick Barbarossa, tr. G. Loud (Farnham, 2010), p. 96; Foss and Winfield, Byzantine Fortifications, pp. 154–5.

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  283 all the fortifications have previously been dated to the thirteenth century, Alexios may have used the site for the initial reconquest of the area, and more significantly the pentagonal, Laskarid style towers include rounded towers of a different masonry style, suggesting that the fortifications were upgraded with pentagonal towers in the thirteenth century (Fig. 50).26 These towers also feature prodigious cloisonné masonry, using a ‘herringbone’ design similar to Achyraous, and while the walls and fortress display less of the cloisonné pattern, they still have brick courses as well as horizontally laid fieldstones surrounding a rubble core, in common with other fortifications of John. The cisterns are a standout feature of the site. It is notable that the fortress cistern is designed so that the eaves of the fortress would channel water into it, and that the other three cisterns all use the same materials, and so they were built or at least restored at the same time as the fortress.27 Pegae was, therefore, storing a lot more water than would be required by a garrison or a small harbour town, and this extra capacity only makes sense if it was used for supplying the imperial army and navy. John’s use of the navy for logistical support in the Balkans and in Cilicia and Syria made bases like this a necessity, and the campaigns early in his reign from Anatolia to the Balkans and back again twice between 1120 and 1125 would have required large reserves of drinking water.28 Our texts make special note of the few occasions when armies were not properly supplied.29 Therefore, there must have been a huge volume of food, water, and other necessities being sent out to supply the frontier fortresses, armies, and navies constantly, and this harbour seems to have been part of that supply system. This network of fortifications for both defence and offense extended to the ­narrow fertile coasts of both north and south Anatolia. Beginning in the north,

Figure 50  Pegae towers—­the sea of Marmora lies just beyond. Photo Credit Izabela Miszczak. 26  Argument for later dating, see: Müller-­Wiener, ‘Ionien’, p. 73; Foss, ‘Defences of Asia Minor’, p. 185. 27  Aylward, ‘Pegae’, pp. 195, 198. 28  Pryor and Jeffreys estimate that the average mariner, rowing eight hours a day, would need around eight litres of water (and when I myself rowed for four hours in the English Channel around Guernsey, I can confirm that about a litre of water was drunk per person, per hour); this has led Cosentino to estimate that even if the average rower made do with less in that period with six litres for eight hours, the tenth-­century imperial crews would still have needed a little under two tonnes of water per day; thus an incredible amount of water was needed. See: Pryor and Jeffreys, The Age of the ΔΡΟΜΩΝ, p. 356; S.  Cosentino, ‘Naval Warfare: Military, Institutional and Economic Aspects’, A Companion to the Byzantine Culture of War, ca. 300–1204, ed. Y. Stouraitis (Leiden, 2018), p. 340. 29  Most especially the Neokaisareia campaign in Chapter Nine.

284  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 we saw in Chapter Seven how the fortress-­cities of Kastamon and Gangra were captured together with unknown places named Alamos, Alazos, and Balza. This would extend the fortress network to Paphlagonia, and we can see the same pattern in Chaldia too. The imposing towers of the city of Trebizond were again not the fortifications of an isolated outpost, but, like Lopadion, Laodikeia, Sozopolis, Attaleia, and Kastamon, this city was also the centre of a network of fortifications defending the province, and notably through fortresses sited in the mountain passes leading south. The eastern Pontos has been densely fortified since an­tiquity, with the walls of Trebizond being a prime example, containing elements from the first century bc all the way through to Ottoman times.30 This being so, the reuse of earlier fortifications and structures in Komnenian times is as prevalent here as it is at sites such as Pegae, and we will see the same pattern on the southern coast as well. Trebizond is flanked by two fortresses that are both within sight of the coast and guard mountain valleys leading south. To the south-­east is a fortress known as Kalecik that has been extensively restored in modern times, such that is difficult to see any original stonework, but despite this I identified one brick course in the outer wall that may indicate a Komnenian repair or restoration when I visited in 2019. To the south-­west is the immensely high fortress of Hortokop, which at 675 m above sea level has an unparalleled view both north to the coast and south over the mountains, and so would have been an ideal fortress to control the routes from coastal to inland Chaldia. Though no brick is spe­cif­ic­al­ly in evidence, its reuse in the Komnenian period must be seen as highly likely to control that pass, and thus secure this coastal zone, in a similar manner to the southern coast east of Attaleia. Here we find a great many more fortifications, indicative perhaps of both the increased threat in the Pontic region, and John’s intention to retake the area. Around 130 km east of Attaleia along the coast sits the modern city of Alanya, which as noted in Chapter Three was the medieval Kalanoros, which is usually identified with the Hierakokoryphitis that both Kinnamos and Choniates tell us John captured after Sozopolis.31 Kalanoros can be seen today as part of a group of castles and fortified cities along this section of the coast that all display evidence of Komnenian masonry. Directly across the coastal plain from Kalanoros/Alanya, though hidden from view from the plain below, is Kızılcaşehir, which has been identified in previous surveys as containing the remains of a Komnenian chapel inside its older fort­ress.32 Though the overgrown state of the fortress in 2019 meant I could not identify what these previous surveys had seen, the fortress’ location, coupled with defences

30  Crow and Bryer, ‘Survey in Trabzon’, pp. 283–9. 31  NC, p. 13; JK, p. 7. 32 Redford, Medieval Anatolia, pp. 16–18; S. Doğan, ‘Byzantine Surveys in and around Alanya in 2005’, Anadolu Akdenizi Arkeoloji Haberleri 4 (2006), p. 65; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, pp. 75–6.

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  285

Figure 51  View from Kalanoros/Alanya Citadel across the old town towards the mountains and the coastal road northeast. Kızılcaşehir is hidden from view halfway up the mountain ridge in the centre of the photo.

Figure 52  Detail of Kalanoros Citadel Chapel and inner walls, displaying Komnenian era brick cloisonné.

that are still upright and sturdy in the twenty-­first century, let alone in the 1120s, would have made it an obvious site to have been garrisoned by John once he had retaken Kalanoros. Further down the coast, but still within sight of Kalanoros, is  the ancient city of Syedra: many of the ruins are classical and Late Antique, complete with colonnaded streets, but the spolia-­filled outer walls, the church and the citadel all contain Komnenian-­era brick masonry that suggest repairs in this period at the very least.33 Whether Syedra was still a fully inhabited city in Komnenian times or not, there was certainly a large settlement around the classical city of Iotape, as the 33 Redford, Medieval Anatolia, p. 19; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, p. 123.

286  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 53  Kızılcaşehir, looking south-­west towards Kalanoros/Alanya.

Figure 54  Classical street in Syedra and Komnenian brick in the Syedra citadel chapel.

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  287

Figure 55  Sydran Outer Wall with Komnenian brick, and the view from Syedra Citadel looking east-­southeast towards Kalaonoros/Alanya.

Figure 56  Iotape Komnenian Church, near the steps that lead up to the overgrown citadel south, looking eastwards across the bay towards structures that could perhaps be identified as warehouses. The right photo also shows the narrow coastal road that runs through the site.

Figure 57  Antiocheia-­ad-­Craggum—­view westwards towards Iotape (L) and detail of Komnenian brickwork in the chapel (R).

288  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Komnenian era church is in the lower city, nearer the coastal road, rather than in the citadel.34 There is evidence of structures either side of the old coastal road, squeezed between steep hills and the sea, in addition to the remains of a harbour where on a clear day you can see over to Cyprus. Consequently, Iotape seems the ideal location as a customs point for both sea and road traffic, and thus a valuable commercial as well as military site to secure. Further along the coast towards the point is Antiocheia-­ad-­Craggum, another classical site with extensive ruins in a wide area around the citadel on the coast, where Komnenian brickwork in the chapel is visible (Fig. 57).35 Eastwards round the coast, the land becomes even more rugged, with very few good sites for a settlement, until a small coastal strip emerges. That is where the fortress of Seleukeia, modern Silifke, Hagia Thekla and the double fortress of Korykos are located. These latter had been recaptured and refortified by Alexios after the First Crusade in order to prevent Bohemond from refortifying them first and holding Cilicia against him.36 These were discussed in Chapter Eight, as, indeed was John’s capture of the many fortresses and cities of Cilicia and around Antioch, and especially the harbours at Korykos, Tarsus, and Alexandretta. These conquests extended the fortress network, and its associated ability to provide communication and logistical support for John’s army on campaign, along the whole Mediterranean coast of both Anatolia and the northern Levant, as well as the mountain passes leading north.37 The establishment of this network across the wide fertile coastlands of Anatolia is reflected on a smaller scale in the Balkans as we saw in Chapter Six, where the middle Danubian fords and the roads and river valleys across modern Serbia and Kosovo held their own network of fortifications. Though this network was designed to protect the most important cities, the density of the network underlines the local protection that these fortifications could and did give to the lands in between.38 For both Anatolia and the Balkans, Byzantium managed to reclaim and retain these lands by pursuing the best active defence: using these fortifications as bases for counter raids. Mark Whittow characterized how Constantinople lost control of much of Anatolia in the eleventh century by highlighting how much

34  Ibid. G. Huber, A Survey of Coastal Cities in Western Cilicia (Ankara, 1967), p. 38. TIB 5.1, pp. 275–6; Avramea, ‘Land and Sea Communications’, p. 76. 35 W. Ramsay, Geography of Asia Minor, pp. 380–1; Huber, Coastal Cities, p. 21; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, p. 123; TIB 5.1, pp. 191–3. 36  AK 11.10, p. 353; Edwards, Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia, pp. 161–7, 221–9; TIB 5.1, pp. 67–74, 315–20, 403. 37  Foss, ‘Defences of Asia Minor’, pp. 157–9; the fortress at Seleukeia also dominates the crossing of the river Kalykadnos, maintaining another facet of the Komnenian defensive strategy, Foss, p. 59. 38 Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, pp. 39 and 66 in particular. Birkenmeier’s thesis is that ‘it was his [John’s] deliberate strategy to obtain fortified points that would enable him [in the east] to threaten his most important foes, the Danishmendids’, Birkenmeier Development of the Komnenian Army, p. 98.

200

0

300

0

Black

400 miles 600 km

Sea

N

Kastamon Trebizond

Kibotos Nicaea s R. ko

Aegean

Sea

Anaia

Iasos

ME NDI DS

Amorion

Aizanoi

Melitene

Philomelion

Sozopolis

Laodikeia

SH

Ikonion

Lake Pousgouse

Trebenna Attaleia Yarbașçandir

OF RUM S U LTA N AT E

IL C Kizilca ehir

Antiocheia-adCraggum

Kalanoros

Syedra and Iotape

Mediterranean

Sea

s

I

A CI Korykos Seleukeia

Anazarbos

s

Didyma

. nd e r R Maea

NI

e rat ph Eu

Ephesus

DA

Ankyra

Philadelphia

Smyrna

Lykos R.

R.

Pegadia

ly Ha

Kotyaion

Akrokos

Ankyrous

Sangario s R.

Rhyn da

Sultançayir

Adramytteion

Sidera

Neakaisareia . sR

o

Pegae Lopadion

Gangra

Orontes R .

Ph

Dakibyza

ini kr ilo Nikomedeia

La m

Constantinople

Constantinople Major City City City of John Fortress Fortress of john

Map Eight  John’s Anatolian Fortress Network. Not shown are the unknown sites of Alamos, Alazos and Balza near Kastamon, which would add a similar protective zone of fortresses to the north, and the many Cilician castles shown in the map of John’s Eastern Campaign. On the map are however multiple fortresses built under Alexios, of which the most recent survey is in Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, pp. 52–61. Presumably a similar pattern would be found around Trebizond as well if a survey were undertaken in this area. This demonstrates that under the Komnenoi, Anatolia became much more fully castellated.

290  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 more active the Turks had been, and posited how Byzantium might have been able to retain control. The Turks were not invincible; their herds were as vulnerable as Byzantine ­villages; but their defeat or containment required an effective system of local defence based on a network of castles whose garrisons were prepared to launch counter-­strikes in response to Turkish raids.39 This is exactly what John set up in twelfth-­century western Anatolia to secure his conquests. It was John’s army that threw back Turkish invasions while the fort­resses boosted the projection of that force, and this is what justified to the provinces why they should give their allegiance and taxes to Constantinople. Basilakes was being quite literal when he pronounced that Rome’s true walls were not made of stone, but of ‘weapons and missiles and horses’.40 Comparisons with the tenth-­ century east Anatolian frontier based around defence in depth, or the ‘protective ring’ of fortresses around fourteenth-­century Thessalonike do not accurately portray what was occurring.41 John’s network embraced the whole region, rather than specifically protecting population centres, and rather than establishing a march, these fortresses were carrying out active defence of these areas by controlling lines of communication and logistics. This system had two major implications: the rebirth of Byzantine Anatolia, and with it the Byzantine army.

The Dividends of Castellating: The New Themata This castle building programme raises two key questions: how was this network of fortifications organized? And how effective was this system for creating se­cur­ity in the provinces? The answers to these questions give us a better understanding of what a twelfth-­century Byzantine theme was, and therefore what life was like for those living in the provinces in this era. Though it should be expected that Komnenian conquests were followed by the restoration of some form of imperial administration in these regions, there is little actual administrative evidence beyond Choniates and Kinnamos referring to the old thematic names of the seventh to the eleventh centuries. Some rare exceptions are, however, to be found in the monastic archives of Theotokos Lemviotissa, near Smyrna, and Theotokos Stylos, near Miletos. Documents there provide proof that the Thrakesion theme was re-­founded by 1127 at the latest, alongside a new theme called Mylasa-­Melanoudion.42 The Thrakesion had been one of the most 39  Whittow, ‘How the East Was Lost’, p. 66; Whittow, ‘Rural Fortifications in Western Europe and Byzantium, 10th–12th Century’, Bosphorus—­Court, City and Country in Byzantium, ed. S. Efthymiades, C. Rapp, and D. Tsougarakis (Amsterdam, 1995), pp. 56–74. 40 Basilakes, Or. 1, pp. 70–1. 41  Bakirtzis, ‘Byzantine Fortification’, pp. 364–47; Haldon, Warfare, State and Society, p. 65. 42  Ahrweiler, ‘L’Histoire et la géographie de la region de Smyrne’, pp. 1–204, who gives a terminus ante quem of c.1133, recently updated by E. Ragia, ‘Η αναδιοργάνωση των θεμάτων στη Μικρά Ασία

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  291 important themes before the Turkish incursions, and geographically it comprised much of west-­central Anatolia, especially the city of Philadelphia, while Mylasa-­ Melanoudion took over its southern section, including the city of Laodikeia. This administration was not that of a disorganized frontier: the archives preserve records that state that these themata were subdivided into ‘κατεπανίκια’, katepanates [‘captaincies’], with at least four being attested in this region from the eleventh to the thirteenth centuries: Abydos, Smyrna, Anaia, and Hillarimos, and more here and elsewhere are listed or implied in the Partitio terrarium imperii Romaniae, the treaty that would divide up the empire after the Fourth Crusade in 1204.43 This substructure is reinforced by a letter from George Tornikes to the ‘man of the doux of Thrakesion’ in Ephesos, and the assumed presence of the doux himself in the major regional city of Philadelphia.44 The mention of two katepanates in Macedonia in the Partitio tells us they existed in the west as well at least by the end of the century, though these mentions alone are not enough to tell us how typical these subdivisions were of the empire as a whole. Still, from Choniates’ indication that John was able to keep his army together for his northern campaign by giving orders to ‘those who kept diligent watch over the roads and points of embarkation’ to prevent their leaving, we have to assume this system operated across at least Anatolia, with John having the capacity to give an order to  its various sub-­commanders in itself testifying to a well-­organized system.45 This implies that each sub-­division, likely referred to as a katepanate, had an administrative and military head, who would oversee the fortifications and soldiers in their specific geographical area. Though it has been claimed that twelfth-­century themata ‘no longer had any direct military implications’, it is accepted that localized ‘militia’ were commanded by a doux or one of his subordinates, and that the system of defended strongpoints supported by a Constantinopolitan field army remained the same strategy as that τον δωδέκατο αιώνα και το θέμα Μυλάσσης και Μελανουδίου’ [The Reorganization of the Themes of Asia Minor in the Twelfth Century and the Theme of Mylasa and Melanoudion], Byzantina Symmeikta 17 (2008), pp. 223–38, who posits 1127, with the Thrakesion dating from the latter part of Alexios’ reign. Citing: MM IV, pp. 62, 63, 324–5, 329. Also followed up on by: Haldon, Atlas of Byzantine History, p. 128; Öztürk, Provincial Aristocracy, pp. 91–2. 43  Ragia, ‘The Reorganization of the Themes of Asia Minor’, p. 225. Abydos: Actes de Lavra I, p. 48. Smyrna: MM IV, 62–3, 86, 207. Anaia: N. Wilson and J. Darrouzès, ‘Restes du cartulaire de Hiéra-­ Xérochoraphion’, REB 26 (1968), pp. 21, 35. Hillarimos: MM IV, 320. The Partitio terrarium imperii Romaniae includes two divisions that are classified specifically as a ‘catepanikium’: that of Eno and Russa, the former of which has been linked with Ainos, where we know from Isaac’s typikon of the Kosmosoteira that soldiers lived, see above and Tafel and Thomas, ‘Urkunden’, p. 484; P.  Soustal, Thrakien, TIB 6 (Vienna, 1991), p. 170; A. Külzer, Osthrakien, TIB 12 (Vienna, 2008), p. 621. Further to this, various ‘provintia’ are based around one major fortress or city and so are more likely to have been katepanates. A good example of this may be John’s fortress of Anchyrous, see: Tafel and Thomas, ‘Urkunden’, p. 478, in addition to ‘pertinentia Lopadi’ if it is to be identified with Lopadion, Tafel and Thomas, p. 469, though Carile has found this identification less likely, see: Carile, ‘Partitio terrarium imperii Romanie’, pp. 258–9. 44  George Tornikes, Lettres et Discours, pp. 148–9; NC, pp. 262–3; Ragia, ‘The Reorganization of the Themes of Asia Minor’, p. 229, esp. n. 32. 45  NC, p. 33, pp. 19–20, cf. Chapter Nine.

292  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 used by the empire in previous centuries.46 When examining how this system operated in more detail, we are fortunate to have an epitaph by Prodromos relating the life of a commander who likely served from the end of Alexios’ reign into John’s.47 The poem refers to this anonymous frontier commander as a sebastos with a wife and many children (lines 35–46), who in addition to guarding the frontier in general (12–13), had specifically served in the military at Philomelion against the Turks (56), at Sozopolis (60), against the Serbs (64), then was stationed at a place called Kodrai that could be a bishop’s see near Ephesus (66), and at Philadelphia (75), and then his service on the eastern border specifically is mentioned once more (86).48 Such a career shows this man commanding a garrison on the eastern frontier, and probably in the Thrakesion theme specifically, where both Kodrai and Philadelphia are located; he and his troops were then called up for campaign duty on numerous occasions, and this man’s career peaked when he was named as sebastos and presumably doux of Thrakesion (the capital of which was at Philadelphia). Perhaps he was one of the first doukes after the re-­establishment of the theme. Before attaining that office, he may have been a katepano, or perhaps kastrophylax [fortress-­warden] as the position is referred to in later periods.49 The exact nomenclature is uncertain, as when surviving texts mention the humiliated garrison commanders of Braničevo and Ras, they merely refer to ‘the one in command’ of the garrison.50 Correspondingly, the letter of Tornikes referenced above demonstrates that similar subordinates would have commanded the garrisons at towns such as Ephesus. They must have been at least readily competent, as illustrated by the defence of Sozopolis against the Turks while the campaigning army was with John in Syria. Further, they must have been of sufficient numbers that they could survive a siege for quite some time before an imperial relief army arrived, in addition to the oft-­mentioned raids upon imperial territory. Though similar evidence for every other theme is lacking, we do have a ­reasonably good idea of how many soldiers would make up a garrison, and therefore can estimate the numbers of men available to each theme. The only exact figure given by our histories is from Choniates, who tells us that John left 2,000 46 Haldon, Atlas of Byzantine History, p. 128; Haldon, ‘The Army and Military Logistics’, The Byzantine World, ed. P. Stephenson (London, 2010), p. 50. 47  Prodromos, Poem LXXV. Hörandner suggests this dating based on the specific battle honours listed in the next line. If they are given in order then an earlier date is hugely likely, though it is also possible the order is unimportant, in which case Manuel’s reign is also possible. See Hörandner, Historische Gedicte, p. 541. 48  Ibid.; there is a bishop’s see called Κόδρα, Κόδραι mentioned in tenth-, eleventh-, and thirteenth-­ century notitiae, see: R. Janin, ‘CODRA (Κόδρα, Κόδραι)’, Dictionnaire d’histoire et de géographie ecclésiastiques 13 (Paris, 1956), pp. 189–90. 49  Katepans are also used in later periods in the successor empire of Trebizond. See: ODB, p. 1115; Bartusis, Late Byzantine Army, pp. 33–4, 189–90, 236; Kyriakidis, Late Byzantine Warfare, p. 167. ‘Kastroktistes’ is also attested in the early twelfth-­century letters of Theophylact of Ohrid, and so ‘the one commanding a castle’ may have been an entirely descriptive rank rather than a fixed office. Theophylact of Ohrid, Lettres, p. 236. 50  See Chapter Six.

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  293 men in Gangra: this can be assumed to have been an especially large garrison from its location on the frontier, and the very fact that it is mentioned at all.51 Such an assumption tallies well with garrisons in the better-­ documented fourteenth ­century, when the campaigning Emperor John VI Kantakouzenos’ history relates that the town of Apros was defended in 1322 with 220 cavalry, 200 archers, 30 crossbowmen, plus a local force of 100 cavalry, ‘not a few archers and slingers’ and ‘a great number’ of those who lived there and volunteered for the defence.52 John VI uses the exact phrase ‘sufficient for the garrison of a [small] city’ and also relates the following figures: 200 soldiers were installed after he took the town of Rhentina in 1342, and the same number was placed in Vodena in 1350, who were still there a year later when the town was retaken, and in 1341 he left 300 cavalry behind in Pamphilion.53 Villehardouin’s numbers for Frankish garrisons in Thrace after 1204 consist of similar figures: Adrianople: 40 cavalry and 100 mounted sergeants; Tzouroullos: 80 cavalry; Rhousion: 140 cavalry and many sergeants; Vizye: 120 cavalry plus sergeants; Selymbria, 50 cavalry.54 In com­par­able eleventh- and twelfth-­century English sources, wartime garrisons averaged between eighteen and 450 soldiers, while peacetime garrisons varied from two to fifty.55 These were for smaller castles of course, while Kantakouzenos also gives one figure for a larger garrison: when Kantakouzenos left Didymoteichon in 1342, he left 1,000 cavalry under four commanders, and 8,000 archers under eight commanders—­ these numbers are confirmed by other sources.56 This 9,000-­man garrison likely included everyone in the city who could wield a weapon, ‘everyone, down to the last octogenarian with a cudgel’, but it demonstrates rough numbers for this late period that lead us to believe that Choniates’ figure of 2,000 men left at Gangra is broadly accurate, while the garrisons of smaller forts would be around forty during peacetime and up to a few hundred if all local volunteers were mustered. The extrapolation of soldier numbers available to an entire theme is hindered by not knowing how many forts were in each theme, and the vari­ations between them. But, if we assume that each theme had at least one major city and then three or four fortresses, we are left with 2,000–4,000 men per theme, which is intriguingly similar to the figures for thematic armies in the centuries prior to the battle of Manzikert.57 These sorts of figures also tally with con­tem­por­ary evidence from

51  NC, pp. 20–1. 52 Kantakouzenos, historiarum I, p. 140; Bartusis, Late Byzantine Army, pp. 295–6. 53 Kantakouzenos, historiarum II, pp. 187, 232, 236, 277, Vol III, pp. 129, 161; Bartusis, Late Byzantine Army, p. 296. 54  Geoffroi de Villehardouin, La conquete de Constantinople, ed. E.  Faral, 2 vols (Paris, 1938–9), pp. 273, 343, 402, 403, 411; Bartusis, Late Byzantine Army, p. 296. 55 Bartusis, Late Byzantine Army, p. 297, citing: S.  Painter, ‘Castle-­Guard’, American Historical Review 40 (1934–5), pp. 451–4. 56 Kantakouzenos, historiarum II, pp. 195, 282; Bartusis, Late Byzantine Army, p. 297, n. 65 for corroborating evidence. 57 Treadgold, Byzantine Army, pp. 43–86; Haldon, Warfare, State and Society, p. 103.

294  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Song China: fortresses for large frontier colonies were gar­risoned by approximately 2,000 men, while smaller fortresses held 500 men each.58 As seen in the career related by Prodromos above, these men could and were called up for campaign service as well, they could engage in their own raiding of enemy territory in the time when they were not standing guard, and in case of invasion could be mobilized to support the threatened strongpoint. We therefore see what appears to be a well-­organized and well-­manned thematic system in place, but the question now arises as to how effective it was. The most well-­known sources written by Latins depict mid-­twelfth-­century provincial life quite poorly: Odo of Deuil and William of Tyre portray Attaleia during the Second Crusade as a beleaguered outpost under constant threat from inland Turkish raids, requiring supplies by sea to even feed the inhabitants.59 However, this moment—­mid-­Crusade, and after the sudden death of an emperor—­should be seen as relatively exceptional; instead, when compared with other textual, archaeological, and documentary sources we can see that this new thematic system was well adapted to reclaiming Anatolia for John and the Komnenoi. We are fortunate to have an extraordinarily detailed depiction of mid-­twelfth-­ century provincial life preserved in an encomium written by Bishop Michael Choniates of Athens (brother of Niketas Choniates) for a former Bishop Niketas of Chonai, the brothers’ home town that was located more than 100 km west of Sozopolis. When reading the text, it is apparent at first sight that John’s fortresses were needed: when Niketas first travelled to his see before 1143, he was un­deterred by the ‘barbarians encamped’ nearby, and that when the bishop took ‘the high road of Lydia’ to confer with the provincial authorities (presumably in Philadelphia) during Manuel’s reign, his party was attacked by Turks, and survived only due to a miracle.60 However, despite these incidents, the provincial picture that emerges is one of a landscape filled with farms and monasteries, its people focused on the more practical problems of provincial life, such as droughts, disputed property rights, and that the Turks could be merchants as well as raiders at the seasonal fair.61 Further, in keeping with the redevelopment of St Nicholas’ shrine at Myra and Hagia Thekla, Niketas convinced his contacts in Constantinople to pay for the restoration of his church at Chonai, and throughout the work we see wealth entering the town with the pilgrims that resulted.62 At both Gangra and Cilicia we find John installing bishops, and the presence of the Cappadocian bishops at

58 Chung, Military Logistics during the Song Dynasty, p. 61. 59  Odo of Deuil, pp. 128–30; William of Tyre, 26, pp. 178–9; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, pp. 90–1. 60  Michael Choniates, σωζόμενα I, esp. pp. 50, 64; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 130–1. 61  Ibid., p. 72; A. Laiou, ‘Exchange and Trade, Seventh–­Twelfth Centuries’, The Economic History of Byzantium: From the Seventh through the Fifteenth Century II, ed. A. Laiou et al. (Washington, DC, 2002), pp. 739, 756. 62  Ibid., p. 41.

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  295 Sasima and Balbissa implies that bishops were in many ways the bridgeheads of Komnenian reconquests.63 As such, it should be no surprise that the building of fortresses went hand in hand with the building of new ecclesiastical buildings. We saw above how the fortresses of Kalanoros, Kızılcaşehir, Syedra, and Antiocheia-­ad-­Craggum all had chapels with Komnenian masonry, but beyond these lesser examples we find far more dramatic examples of ecclesiastical building projects in these new Anatolian themata. One case study shines new light on Odo and William’s characterization of Attaleia as a beleaguered frontier, as in the hills above Attaleia is a large, dis­tinct­ively Komnenian monastery complex, now named Kisleçukuru.64 The majority of its brick cloisonné decoration faces the road that winds up the hills that leads to the monastery, making an impressive visual statement on any viewer. Despite some level of monastic seclusion, this site was therefore in no way hiding from potential raiders, and for such a complex to have been constructed and to flourish it must have been in a region that was at least nominally secure. Twelfth-­ century pottery finds associated with nomads near ancient Sagalassos in the mountains to the north (some 200 km north of Attaleia, with Lake Pousgouse being just beyond to the north-­east) indicate that the Turks were certainly still nearby. Thus, the fortresses in the region were in no way merely decorative, but actively making the region secure enough for this monastery to thrive.65 This therefore appears to be exactly the sort of provincial life described by Bishop Michael Choniates. Nor is this an isolated example: the newly restored basilica of St Nicholas at Myra must similarly attest to security on the south coast, as must the church at Hagia Thekla, allowing that the latter may be exceptional if it was the forward base for John’s campaigning in the region. Further examples on the south coast will no doubt be discovered through future fieldwork, but this pattern can also be seen on the Black Sea coast around Trebizond. A monastery complex comparable to Kisleçukuru can be found in Buzluca, which despite the latter having a curtain wall around the whole complex, is still vulnerable to an assault from its south side, and so must have relied on a high level of security in the surrounding region.66 This site may be the same as the reported ninth-­century Monastery of Christ the Saviour, but architecturally it is quite distinct from either 63 Roskilly, Les évêques et leur autorité, pp. 133, 223–38. On p. 233, Roskilly highlights the colophon of a Vatican gospel book that praises a bishop who has not ceased to preach in Turkish territory, with the book being dated to before 1168. Cf. Ibn al-­Qalanisi’s mention of John requiring that Antioch welcome back a Greek patriarch as well in Chapter Eight. 64  A.  Tiryaki, ‘Kisleçukuru Manastırı: Antalya’da Onikinci Yüzyıla Ait Bir Bizans Manastırı (The Monastery at Kislecukuru: A 12th Century Byzantine Monastery in Antalya)’, I.  Uluslararası Sevgi Gönül Bizans Araştırmaları Sempozyumu (First International Sevgi Gönül Byzantine Studies Symposium), ed. A. Ödekan, E. Akyürek, and N. Necipoğlu (İstanbul, 2010), pp. 447–57. 65  A. Vionis et al, ‘A Middle-­Byzantine Pottery Assemblage from Sagalassos: Typo-­Chronology and Sociocultural Interpretation’, Hesperia: The Journal of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens 79 (2010), pp. 459–60; Beihammer, ‘Turkish Migration’, p. 183. 66  Ibid., pp. 284–7.

296  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 58  The Komnenian brick cloisonné of Kisleçukuru is used to stunning decorative effect in this monastery, with the approach by winding road revealing the most decorative sides that still make an impressive visual statement to any viewer.

local traditions of monastic building, or Georgian or Armenian traditions.67 In fact it has much in common with either imperial Constantinopolitan foundations, or the eleventh-­century katholikon of the Great Lavra on Mt Athos. In add­ition to  Kisleçukuru, I would add that it also bears some similarity to the fortress monasteries in modern Serbia and Kosovo such as Studenica, where again we see the pattern of fortresses and monasteries in the mountain valleys that make up a frontier zone (cf. Chapter Six). Despite Buzluca being vastly more overgrown today than during the survey conducted during the 1990s, brick elements of a type comparable with other Komnenian sites can be seen. This is in addition to the similarities in location and plan, which strongly suggest that under either Gabras or John the monastery received new patronage. Its location, within sight of the sea, is to the south-­east of the provincial capital of Trebizond and just to the south of the fortress of Kalecik, while the tall fortress of Hortokop lies to the west (though a journey along the coast to Trebizond is required to travel between the two due to the terrain). Though it cannot be proved that these monasteries were financed by John, they are of the same masonry type and decoration as his forts, and they are built in the 67  Ibid., pp. 285–6.

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  297 same regions. Their presence demonstrates that security and a flourishing ­provincial life were beginning to recover after the chaos of the previous decades, and this is also the picture we find in our few documentary sources. An 1133 record from the monastic archive of Lembos, near Smyrna, preserves an attempt by the monks to claim back property they had owned before the Turkish invasion. This property had now been taken over by a local paroikos, while the monasteries of Latros and Hiera near the mouth of the Meander River (and thus the border of the Thrakesion/Mylasa-­Melanoudion themata) evidence similar disputes.68 Though we do not have much more information concerning paroikoi resettling the region, we do have some mentions of elites. From the treaty by which the ­victorious crusaders divided the empire in 1204, we know that the episkepseis [estates] of the Kontestephanoi and Kamytzes families lay near Laodikeia and the River Meander, north but not too much further west from Chonai, therefore in the same general region described by Bishop Michael Choniates.69 Likewise at the fortress of Hieron on the Aegean, mentioned above, the 1103/4 inscription refers to the restoration of the fort by Doux and Vestarches Michael Phokas-­Karatouinos of Crete, who also held the title of protospatharios and the military rank of tagmatophylax (see below for discussion of ranks).70 These titles not only mark him as part of the minor, local, aristocracy, but it is even more significant that this family continued to be present in the region in the thirteenth century, testifying to the success of the return of imperial administration. All in all, this evidence reveals an administration embedding itself back into western Anatolia, and, thus, why it was that these reconquered areas would come to form the basis of a viable successor state in the thirteenth century: the re-­fortification of this theme was coupled with its administrative reorganization, and we can see the continuation of this process with Manuel’s founding of the theme of the Neokastra later in the century. Choniates notes directly how Manuel’s fortification of threatened Anatolian settlements was the act ‘most beneficial to common welfare’, taking into account everything that emperor ever did.71 Likewise, it has been opined that any prosperity the empire gained in the twelfth century must be attributed to the century of internal peace and freedom from invasion that came about through these initiatives.72 Naturally there was one final ingredient to this success, and that was having a field army that won battles and sieges more often than not.

68  MM IV, pp. 62–3; Wilson and Darrouzès, ‘cartulaire de Hiéra-­Xérochoraphion’, pp. 31–4; Ahrweiler, ‘L’histoire et la géographie de la region de Smyrna’, pp. 128–9; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 128–9. 69  Tafel and Thomas, ‘Urkunden’, p. 479. 70  Ragia, ‘Inscription at Didyma’, pp. 135–9. 71  NC, p. 150; cf. N.  Matheou, ‘Khoniates’ Asia Minor: Earthly and Ultimate Causes of Decline’, Landscapes of Power Selected Papers from the XV Oxford University Byzantine Society International Graduate Conference, ed. M. Lau, C. Franchi, and M. Di Rodi (Oxford, 2014), pp. 222–3. 72 Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, esp. p. 141.

298  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

The New Komnenian Army When John took the field, why did he tend to win? In short, through organization, numbers, and professionalism. Beginning with the former, John’s army maintained the system of unit ­subdivisions with a specific command structure that had been characteristic of the Roman army from antiquity. The Alexiad describes Alexios giving individual commanders separate orders, and the presence of junior officers and divisions are mentioned multiple times by both Choniates and Kinnamos. From John’s reign specifically, noteworthy mentions include the heroics of Paktarios and Dekanos in John’s 1119 campaign with light cavalry divisions, the Varangians (likely used as dragoons) at Berroia, the tactics of the Turkish cavalry in Cilicia, the choosing of a champion from among the taxiarches at Vakha, and indeed Eustratios of the Macedonians winning that duel.73 In addition, a mid-­twelfth-­century theological text on the filioque by the former chartophylax, and now metropolitan, Niketas of Thessalonike, has the Latin disputant speak of the relationship between the emperor, a taxiarch and a soldier as a metaphor for the trinity, with the taxiarch being an authority figure to the soldier despite being under the emperor.74 This clearly evidences a chain of command that still existed in the twelfth century, and was known to ecclesiastics too. Tenth and eleventh-­century texts describe a taxiarchia [regiment] as being composed of some variation of 500 heavy infantrymen, 300 archers, and 200 light infantrymen, while cavalry parataxeis comprised 500 cavalry each, with the former 1,000 men being commanded by a Taxiarchos, with a Kentarches (centurion) commanding 100 men—­a Kentarchia—­and a Dekarchos commanding ten men—­a Kontoubernion—­who classically would be the unit who shared a tent.75 We saw above how the fort of Hieron was restored by a doux who had also been a tagmatophylax [regiment-­warden], and so though there had been some evolution of nomenclature, the system remained. This command structure is clear reason for imperial success on numerous occasions, and from Manuel’s reign there is mention that the Byzantine army knew this well. Choniates relates a battlefield speech from Sirmium (1167) where the general 73  AK, XV 5–6, pp. 474–80; NC, pp. 13, 25, 29–30, 102, 125, 152–4, 29–30; JK, 6–7, 58, 271–23. Cf. Chapters Three, Four, and Eight. 74  N. Festa, ‘Nicetas di Maronea e I suoi dialoghi sulla processione dello Spirito Santo’, Bessarione 16 (1912), p. 99. This text will be examined further in the following chapter for its theological significance. 75  Nikephoros II Phokas, Nicephori praecepta militaria, ed. J.  Kulakovsky (St Petersburg, 1908), pp.  1–3, 13–14, 19; Three Byzantine Military Treatises, pp. 84–6 and 262; Kekaumenos, Consilia et Narrationes, ed. and tr. C. Roueché (London, 2013), https://ancientwisdoms.ac.uk/mss/viewer.html? viewColumns=greekLit%3Atlg3017.Syno298.sawsGrc01%3Adivedition.divsection3&viewOffsets=-1607; ODB, pp. 601, 1020–1, 2018, Haldon, Warfare, State and Society, p. 117; N. Oikonomides, Les listes de préséance Byzantines des IXe et Xe siècles (Paris, 1972), pp. 335–6; Bartusis, Late Byzantine Army, p. 191. McGeer, Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth, pp. 52–6; Treadgold, Byzantium and Its Army, p. 113; Treadgold, ‘Standardized Numbers’, esp. p. 12.

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  299 states that the numbers and armaments of the armies were similar, but that Roman strength lay in its organizational superiority.76 This also had immense benefits at the strategic level: we have seen how armies were led by John Axouch, the young Alexios, and Kontestephanos simultaneously with another army being led by John, in addition to cities and fortresses being defended while the emperor was in a different area. The ability to coordinate two campaigning armies in the field effectively involved a significant strategic challenge, and this too should be seen as a major organizational strength of John’s army. This strength was coupled with the ability to put forward consistently armies deemed large by the standards of the day, though again there are few exact numbers related. William of Tyre’s mention that John deemed a ten-­thousand man escort to Jerusalem too few is an interesting starting point, as presumably this figure was suggested by the Jerusalemite envoys as one that would still have been useful to the Christian cause in the Levant, but not so large as to ensure that John’s army greatly outnumbered the crusaders.77 Choniates and Kinnamos only give exact numbers for any army at the aforementioned battle of Sirmium, just over twenty years after John’s death. There, Andronikos Kontostephanos defeated 15,000 Hungarians with a force which they tell us was of similar size; Kontostephanos’ army was divided into three divisions, a screening force of cavalry, and a reserve force, with Kinnamos relating that the left wing was divided into four taxiarchiai under named leaders (therefore 4,000 men), and five-­hundred Serbs are specifically listed as being part of the central division. During this battle, 800 men were ­captured and 2,000 killed.78 In total numbers, this battle aligns with those listed in other battles, such as John Kontostephanos supposedly defeating 20,000 Turks alongside King Baldwin III of Jerusalem in 1160, or the 10,000–15,000 men assembled in the wars of Emperors Michael VII Doukas and Nikephoros III Botaneiates after Manzikert in the 1070s.79 Though not helpful for assessing numbers in general, we are well informed by multiple Islamic sources that John had fourteen great siege engines at the siege of Shayzar, which was seen as a very large number.80 Both these engines, and armies in general, would have required a huge 76  NC, pp. 155–6; Haldon, Warfare, State and Society, pp. 226–8; Haldon, ‘Army and Military Logistics’, p. 50. Further discussion of armament below. 77  William of Tyre, 15.21, p. 703. 78  JK, pp. 270–4 and NC, pp. 151–6. J.-C. Cheynet, ‘Les effectifs de l’armée byzantine’, Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale 38 (1995), p. 331; noted in more detail by both Haldon, Warfare, State and Society, pp. 138–9 and Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, pp. 119–24, 162. On taxiarchiai, see below. 79  John Kontostephanos: JK, pp. 199–201; Post Manzikert: Bryennios, Histoire, p. 269; AK 1.5, 1.8 and 2.1, pp. 20, 31, 56. 80  Ibn al-­Athir, p. 340; Ibn al-­Adim, pp. 677–81; Usama Ibn-­Munqidh, p. 125; Fulton, Artillery, pp. 107, 110. Ibn al-­Adim also mentions John had four la-­ab, or lighter stone throwers with him. ‘illustrious men’ [ἄνδρας ἀγαυούς] urging on the wall destroying machines are mentioned at Gangra in Prodromos VIII, line 177, which Birkenmeier has taken to refer to these engineers, though it could just as easily be the commanders urging on the crews, just as John himself was said to have done at the siege of Shayzar by William of Tyre, 15.1, p. 674; Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, p. 189.

300  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 amount of logistical support, and so the ability to consistently provision these large armies should be seen as a key reason for John’s success in itself. We have frustratingly few mentions of this logistical support, though for Manuel’s Myriokephalon campaign (1176), supposedly the largest army gathered in his reign, we are told that he used 3,000 wagons.81 The use of his fortress network and navy to keep his army supplied gave John a considerable logistical advantage in terms of speed as well as the ability to transport certain materials more swiftly and more securely: the fact that John transported his army back and forth between the Balkans and Anatolia in the 1120s testifies to the strength of the system, as does the fact that apart from the Neokaisareia campaign supplies are never mentioned by surviving sources as a problem. For that same Myriokephalon campaign, we are also told that the Turkish forces that invaded the empire in the following year numbered 24,000 men.82 We may assume that this size of army was around the upper limit gathered for any of John’s campaigns too, such as his expeditions east where a mere 10,000 men was too small a portion of his army, and so for John’s campaigns in general armies likely ranged between 15,000 and 25,000.83 Being able to put this many men into the field consistently gave his armies a considerable advantage, especially as he also had the organizational structure to use them effectively. Once battle was joined, however, there was also the final advantage John’s forces had over his rivals: a higher level of professionalism. This professionalism consisted of three facets: pay, diversity, and training. The first of these may appear obvious to a modern reader, but it was certainly not a given for the medieval period: Byzantine soldiers, just like their classical Roman forebears, were paid for their service, and were, therefore, professional soldiers. Though it has been opined that the disasters that led to 1204 were due to overuse of ‘mercenaries’, and especially foreign mercenaries, and the lack of a ‘native force’, this characterization of John’s armies misrepresents them.84 Ninth-, tenth-, and early eleventh-­century field armies received their pay directly as full time soldiers too, and though some scholars have labelled this as being the same as ‘mercenary forces’, it should be recognized that soldiers being paid for service is simply the sign of professional soldier, whether they be native or foreign.85 An increase in 81  JK, p. 229; Cheynet, ‘Les effectifs de l’armée byzantine’, p. 333. 82  NC, p. 192. 83 Cheynet, ‘Les effectifs de l’armée byzantine’, pp. 333–5; Haldon, Warfare, State and Society, pp. 104, 198; Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, p. 132. The latter advocates as many of 35,000 due to the presence of allied forces during the larger campaigns. The Anonymous Syriac Chronicle’s suggestion that John gathered an army of 400,000 men is a clear exaggeration, but it does reflect the fact that this army was exceptionally large. See Chron. 1234, p. 275. 84 Treadgold, Byzantium and Its Army, p. 219. Carr, in his work for a broader audience, speaks of the ‘psychological link between people and military and patriotic sentiment’ being broken by the reliance on mercenaries, and that the use of foreign mercenaries was a ‘governing philosophy’ of the Komnenoi, demonstrating how this characterization is most definitely the mainstream view. Carr, Komnene Dynasty, pp. vii, 125. Bartusis refers to Alexios’ army as ‘makeshift’, though he does not argue that this was the cause of the 1204 collapse: Bartusis, Late Byzantine Army, p. 5. 85  K. Roy, ‘Review of Warren Treadgold, Byzantium and Its Army’, The Indian Historical Review 26 (1999), pp. 201–2; Haldon, Warfare, State and Society, pp. 92–3, 125; S. Kyriakidis, ‘Army Structure: Roman Continuity and Byzantine Change’, A Companion to the Byzantine Culture of War, ca.

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  301 the use of foreigners in the army is also comparable with their rise in Early Modern Europe, where the ubiquity of, for example, Swiss Pikemen and German Landsknechts in the sixteenth century is seen as a crucial step in the so-­called ‘military revolution’ that led to the professionalization and modernization of western European armies.86 The use of foreigners with distinct military skills is therefore a sign of an innovative and successful military, which brings us to the second facet of professionalism. John could deploy Latin heavy cavalry, Pecheneg and Turkish light cavalry, Varangians, and Serbs in addition to his ‘native’ troops. This diversity in military skills is especially highlighted by his engineering capabilities, especially in the use of siege engines. Regarding these, various scholars have argued that the Komnenian army enjoyed a notable technological advantage in this regard by using the counterweight trebuchet before it became common in other armies.87 The counterweight trebuchet uses the eponymous counterweight to fling stones much further and with more force than could be achieved by teams of people pulling on the ropes at one end of the beam (a traction trebuchet). The evidence used by the proponents of this theory is based on distinctly ambiguous language, and as pulling crews are still mentioned in this period (John himself is mentioned as encouraging siege crews at Shayzar, something useful only if there were pulling crews) it appears likely that John’s siege engines were no more advanced than any others.88 However, John appears to have used these engines more effectively than his contemporaries did.89 300–1204, ed. Y. Stouraitis (Leiden, 2018), pp. 249–50. This use of ‘mercenaries’ is also noted in the armies of the thirteenth century: Bartusis, Late Byzantine Army, pp. 139–42. 86  The ‘Military Revolution’ debate is a major historiographical controversy that has been going since at least M. Roberts, The Military Revolution: 1560–1660 (Belfast, 1967). Various positions have been argued as to what caused the ‘revolution’, or indeed ‘evolution’, of European armed forces from the medieval to the modern period, such as gunpowder itself, the size of armies, various specific tactics and equipment, fortification design, and, specifically for this study, the rise of professional soldiers, first in the form of mercenaries and then the rise of national armies after that. As an introduction to the subject and various positions in addition to Roberts, see: J. Hale, War and Society in Renaissance Europe (Leicester, 1985); C. Rogers (ed.), The Military Revolution Debate (Abingdon, 1995); G. Parker, The Military Revolution, Military Innovation and the Rise of the West 1500–1800 (Cambridge, 2002). 87  G. Dennis, ‘Byzantine Heavy Artillery: The Helepolis’, Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 39 (1998), pp. 112–14; P.  Chevedden, ‘The Invention of the Counterweight Trebuchet: A Study in Cultural Diffusion’, DOP 54 (2000), pp. 110–11; Birkenmeier, Development of the Komnenian Army, pp. 88–96, esp. pp. 89, 94. Here they argue against the older ideas of Chalandon that the east fell behind in terms of siege warfare, see: Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, pp. 620–1. 88 Chevedden, ‘counterweight trebuchet’, p. 86; C.  Makrypoulias, ‘Siege warfare: The Art of ­Re-­capture’, A Companion to the Byzantine Culture of War, ca. 300–1204, ed. Y. Stouraitis (Leiden, 2018), pp. 375–9; Makrypoulias, ‘ “Our engines are better than yours”: Perception and Reality of Late Byzantine Military Technology’, Byzantium and the West: Perception and Reality (11th–15th c.), ed. N. Chryssis, A. Kolia-­Dermitzaki, and A. Papageorgiou (London, 2019), pp. 311–12. In addition to Makrypoulias, further discussion and bibliography with regards the mechanics of such siege weapons can be found in: Fulton, Artillery, esp. pp. 39–58 on mechanics, and p. 110 for critiques. One of the best images of a traction trebuchet can be found in an eighth-­century Persian wall painting, see: D. Nicolle, Arms and Armour of the Crusading Era, 1050–1350, 2 vols (London, 1999), II, no. 647, p. 257 with the image on p. 461. 89  Kyriakidis notes the substantial increase in siege weapons under John and Manuel, though does not ascribe this increase to a technological edge, merely a willingness to invest in these machines. Kyriakidis, Warfare in Late Byzantium, p. 172.

302  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 The court texts often mention the emperor’s ability to shoot fire, lightning, and stones through his siege weapons, as if he were a classical god among men, and though they are not helpful with regard to the exact missiles used, they emphasize how John employed these engines practically to take cities, and also the psychological effect they had on his enemies. Whether at Gangra, Buza’ah, Lake Pousgouse, or the many cities of Cilicia, John secured the surrender of urban settlements through artillery bombardments, and it is notable in the Danişmend-­name that the magic-­wielding Roman monks create a fire-­crushing dragon to defend their monasteries from the Turkish hero, suggesting that the cultural memory of fire-­ wielding Romans was alive and well in the century after John.90 Though not a technological edge in itself, the innovation demonstrated by the covering of the siege weapons in brick hoardings at Anazarbos and the mounting of siege weapons on ships at Lake Pousgouse testify to a tactical edge in this regard. William of Tyre’s reference to a blockade and undermining of the walls at Antioch, and the mention of siege towers in both the Alexiad and by Kinnamos of Manuel, affirm that lack of siege engineers were certainly not to blame for any withering of the empire in 1204, as the Romans persisted in using and adapting technologies used across the entire 900 year span of Byzantine history.91 Just as with the imperial navy, John invested time and money into having a large and competent corps of  engineers who would have operated these engines, which paid dividends at multiple offensive sieges, and who would blame his rhetors for focusing on that feature of his arsenal? John’s army may not have had counter-­weight trebuchets, but they certainly used traction ones alongside other siege techniques to the best of their ability, and the skilful use of these engines should certainly be acclaimed as a major factor in the success of John’s army. The advantage found in the use and provision of siege weapons, rather than a specific technological advantage, is reflected more broadly in the many different troops to be found in John’s army. Reconstruction of the equipment used by imperial soldiers has been hampered by a lack of archaeological finds, together with artistic depictions (such as those found in ecclesiastical wall paintings and icons) usually being stylized and archaized; this has already been seen in our  written sources as well, with both chroniclers and rhetorical authors using extensive classical models (triremes, bronze armour, etc) rather than useful descriptions.92 Equally, we have the speech at Sirmium mentioned above, according to which the Romans and the Hungarians were said to have the same armament,

90  Danişmend-­name I, pp. 49–50; Bayrı, Warriors, Martyrs, and Dervishes, pp. 42–3. 91  William of Tyre, 14.30, p. 670; AK, 11.6 and 14.10–11, pp. 324, 432; JK, p. 241; Makrypoulias, ‘Siege Warfare’, passim, esp. pp. 379–85. 92  Cf. Hunger, Literatur I, pp. 429–41; G. Theotokis, ‘Military Technology: Production and Use of Weapons’, A Companion to the Byzantine Culture of War, ca. 300–1204, ed. Y. Stouraitis (Leiden, 2018), pp. 442–3, with p. 462 specifically about terms used for armour.

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  303 and so only organizational advantages mattered.93 The central advantage which this evidence suggests that the Byzantines enjoyed is that the varied units in John’s army had a hugely diverse array of equipment, while that of most of his rivals was more uniform: therefore in vastly different engagements John’s army was more likely to have soldiers equipped to counter whatever his enemies threw at him.94 This, together with a willingness to combine potentially useful troops and equipment from east and west, is therefore the second reason why John’s army had an edge in professionalism over its rivals: it was not so much that John’s troops had technology others did not, but that they used a broad variety of it, whereas most of their rivals were more specialized. This diversity did, of course, require competent commanders to use it ef­fect­ive­ly. Command structures and organization, numbers, and professionalism had to be held together by well-­trained officers and men, and it was here that John’s army had a final professional edge over his rivals. Though there was no formal officers’ academy for either subalterns or commanders, we have several descriptions of at  least the high nobility being given both practical and theoretical training in warfare, as mentioned in the cases of John, Axouch, and Manuel in Chapter Two.95 Practical skills encouraged in these noblemen included exercise so that they would be fit enough to hone their skills with a shield against an enemy’s arrows, wielding and throwing a spear, drawing up a battle-­line, hitting a target with a bow, and, especially, riding a horse.96 In this, they were perhaps no different to rival warrior-­aristocrats of other polities, but in addition to these practical war-­making skills, our sources note how noblemen were taught how to place an ambush, take up position in good time, build a palisaded camp, participate in military training with their troops, pay attention to the advice of experienced soldiers, practice with siege weapons (and even design their own) and to read military treatises from previous centuries in their spare time.97 This training was not just for the officers of course, but required intensive training for soldiers in the whole army. We find examples of this training both before and after John’s reign: from the dramatic accounts of Emperor Nikephoros II Phokas’ 966 cavalry contest to the tournaments that Manuel took part in personally at Antioch in 1159 against western knights.98 Less dramatically, there is also the mention by Kinnamos of Manuel 93  NC, pp. 155–6; Haldon, Warfare, State and Society, pp. 226–8. 94  On the equipment of both John’s armies and his contemporaries, see: Nicolle, Arms and Armour I and II. 95  Cf. Chapter Two, esp. Coufalová, ‘Youths in Komnenian Literature’, esp. pp. 8–9. 96 Ibid. 97  Ibid.; Nikephoros Bryennios, Histoire, p. 75; Theophylact of Ohrid, Discours, Traités, Poésies, p. 207; Kekaumenos, Consilia et Narrationes. 98  Leo the Deacon, Leonis diaconis Caloensis Historiae libri decem, ed. C. Hase (Bonn, 1828), p. 63; NC, pp. 108–20. On Manuel’s tournaments, also see: P.  Schreiner, ‘Ritterspiele in Byzanz’, JÖB 46 (1996), pp. 228–32, and more recently, Maguire and Jones, ‘Jousts of Manuel’, pp. 104–48. Older

304  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 drilling his army in weapons in Cilicia, and so it can be readily assumed that any army of John’s gathering at Philippopolis, Lopadion, or Hagia Thekla before a campaign would have involved extensive drilling.99 The tenth-­century Sylloge Tacticorum manual describes how the army learned valuable military skills by engaging in a grand hunt: scouting and maintaining formations over terrain, co-­ordination between different units, and the use of different weapons is all described, with the game caught as a reward; with John’s penchant for hunting, it would be surprising if he did not hone the skills of at least his officers, if not his campaigning army more generally, through what amounts to an early form of war games.100 This would certainly imply that Kekaumenos’ later eleventh-­ century advice to read military manuals was followed, which is corroborated by direct evidence of the Komnenoi experimenting with siege weapons as he  recommends, recalling John’s son Isaac’s idea to cover the war engines in brick hoardings during the siege of Anazarbos, and John’s own installation of these machines onto boats during the Lake Pousgouse campaign.101 Ambushes and stratagems were used at sieges such as Sozopolis, which certainly imply a tactical advantage over enemies who would have learned warcraft entirely from experience, though John’s ­commanders would have had plenty of that as well with his nigh-­constant campaigning.102 If this command structure and training regime for officers and their sub-­ divisions of soldiers existed in the armies of any of John’s rivals then they go unmentioned, and, therefore, his opponents were far less likely to be as practised as John’s forces. Inherited from the institutional traditions of the Roman army going back over a millennium, the survival of this level of organization for

his­tori­og­raphy has tended to stress the western influences of this ‘joust’, such as Ostrogorsky, History of the Byzantine State, p. 380, though there have also been more balanced views in papers such as: A. Kazhdan, ‘The Latins and Franks in Byzantine Perception and Reality’, Byzantium and the Muslim World: The Crusades from the Eastern Perspective, ed. A. Laiou and R. Mottahedeh (Washington, DC, 2000), pp. 83–100. As mentioned previously, if anything Manuel was introducing this sport sim­ul­tan­ eous­ly with his western contemporaries, perhaps working it into existing Roman military drills, and so rather than necessarily a sign of ‘western influence’ this is simply evidence of changing aristocratic and martial culture across the Christian world. See: R.  Barber and J.  Barker, Tournaments. Jousts, Chivalry and Pageants in the Middle Age (New York, 1989), pp. 14–20. Such tournaments continued into later Byzantium, see: Kyriakidis, Warfare in Late Byzantium, pp. 53–6. 99  JK, pp. 125–6. On training in general, see: JK, pp. 61–2; McGeer, Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth, p. 88. 100  G. Chatzelis and J. Harris, A Tenth-­Century Byzantine Military Manual: The Sylloge Tacticorum (Abingdon, 2017), p. 91; cf. Coufalová, ‘Komnenian Youths’, pp. 9–10. 101  On the later use of military manuals, see: D. Sullivan, ‘Byzantine Military Manuals. Prescriptions, Practice and Pedagogy’, The Byzantine World, ed. P.  Stephenson (London, 2010), pp. 149–61; G. Chatzelis, Byzantine Military Manuals as Literary Works and Practical Handbooks The Case of the Tenth-­Century Sylloge Tacticorum (London, 2019), esp. pp. 88–161; Kyriakidis, Warfare in Late Byzantium, pp. 63–4. Cf. Chapter Eight, pp. 358–9 and Chapter Nine, p. 463. 102  Kyriakidis notes that training by experience was certainly valued in Late Byzantium, and that in this Byzantium was typical of Western European training by experience methods as well, see: Kyriakis, Warfare in Late Byzantium, p. 63, citing: J.  France, Western Warfare in the Age of the Crusades, 1000–1300 (London, 1999), p. 186.

Fortresses, the Provinces, and the Army  305 individual units and their commanders in such a hierarchy demonstrates that the old Roman military model did not totally come to an end in the eleventh century. Combined with an investment in siege engines, enviable numbers and ­competent commanders working within an organizational structure derived from an­tiquity, this diversity saw John’s forces usually claim victory whenever they took to the field.

John’s Military Achievement Twelfth-­century Byzantium has often been seen as a period when the empire was in terminal decline, with the so-­called Komnenian restoration being intrinsically flawed. Yet the construction of these fortresses and the reintroduction of Byzantine administration led to the survival and expansion of Byzantine Anatolia long past 1204. Far from being ‘apathetic and ignorant’ or even ‘liberal . . . and incurious’ we see John investing in provincial defences and perhaps provincial ecclesiastical buildings as well, while also being actively involved in the re­organ­iza­tion of the thematic system. This led to an enviable network of fortresses that could ­provide active defence, communications, and logistical support to his field army. The institution of that field army was also another major success in and of itself, as between organization, numbers, and professionalism it gave John the crucial tool he needed to execute his campaigns. John’s goals were, however, not limited to military victories and the re-­establishment of Byzantium’s territorial empire. They included the reclamation of the empire’s ecclesiastical pre-­eminence as well.

Eleven The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism John’s reign appears as an anomaly in Byzantine ecclesiastical history: both Alexios and Manuel engaged deeply with the church, by necessity in response to serious challenges, and by choice as they sought to work with the church for their own goals, whether pious or secular. By contrast, John has been characterized as a ‘non-­interventionist’ with ‘little interest in the church and no trouble with his patriarchs . . ./preoccupied with campaigning and foreign affairs’, with the reign being marked by ‘the singular absence of ecclesiastical issues’ and a ‘scarcity of sources’.1 And yet, between canonical commentaries, monastic archives and theo­ logic­al texts our evidence is not as lacking as it first appears, and so there is certainly something more to be said for John’s place in ecclesiastical history.2 This is particularly the case as the Komnenoi have been described as those emperors who came closest to the so-­called ‘caesaropapist ideal’, whereby the church was entirely or partially subject to the emperors, a controversial analysis that still shapes any discourse on church and state in Byzantium. Therefore, a re-­ examination of the place of the Church in John’s empire is long overdue in order to unravel this persistent issue.3 The principal ecclesiastical event noted by scholars has been John and Piroska-­ Eirene’s founding of the monastery of Christ Pantokrator, but it has been less 1 Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 275; Angold, Church and Society, p. 75; H.  Ewing, A ‘Truly Unmonastic Way of Life’: Byzantine Critiques of Monasticism in the Twelfth Century (unpublished doctoral thesis, Ohio State University, 2014), p. 164. 2  Bucossi, ‘Filoque’, pp. 121–2. 3  See in particular the use of the term epistemonarches [‘corrector’] with regards to Alexios and Manuel, and the debate over Byzantine ‘caesaropapism’ in general: G. Dagron, Emperor and Priest: The Imperial Office in Byzantium (Cambridge, 2003), pp. 282–312; D.  Nicol, ‘Byzantine Political Thought’, The Cambridge History of Medieval Political Thought c.350–c.450, ed. J. Burns (Cambridge, 1988), pp. 51–79; J. Burns, ‘Conclusion’, The Cambridge History of Medieval Political Thought c.350–c.450, pp. 696–703; D. Geanakoplos ‘Church and State in the Byzantine Empire: A Reconsideration of the Problem of Caesaropapism’, Church History 34 (1965), pp. 381–403; Macrides, ‘Nomos and Kanon’, pp. 61–4; Angold, Church and Society, pp. 49, 99–103; Angold, ‘The Byzantine Empire 1025–1118’, The New Cambridge Medieval History Vol 4. C.1024–c.1198 Part 2 (Cambridge, 2015), p. 247; D. Angelov, Imperial Ideology and Political Thought in Byzantium, 1204–1330 (Cambridge, 2007), pp. 351–416; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 280–1, 285, 287, 289–90, 294, 299; G. Majeska, ‘The Emperor in His Church: Imperial Ritual in the Church of St. Sophia’, Byzantine Court Culture from 829–1204, ed. H.  Maguire (Washington, DC, 2007), pp. 1–12; W.  Woodfin, The Embodied Icon: Liturgical Vestments and Sacramental Power in Byzantium (Oxford, 2012), pp. 200–1; Kaldellis, Byzantine Republic, pp. 165–98, esp. n. 111.

Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143. Maximilian C. G. Lau, Oxford University Press. © Maximilian C. G. Lau 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198888673.003.0012

The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism  307 appreciated that this foundation was an expression of a general programme of philanthropy during John’s reign. The renewal of both civil and canon law in this period was characterized by mercy, as were the few laws of John that come down to us. Beyond this programme, we have seen already how John had an interest in religious matters when they intersected with his foreign policy.4 Relations with Latin, Armenian, and Syrian Jacobite Christians had a direct relationship upon both international diplomacy and the viability of his conquests. Ecumenical relations during John’s reign were not merely ad hoc side shows, however, but were in fact early negotiations for an ecumenical council that in the end never occurred. This planned council would have re-­established the place of the emperor in Constantinople as the adjudicator of the entire Christian world and resolved the rising tensions between east and west Christendom. It is this that should be considered John’s most grand design, one that would have rewritten ecclesiastical history had it been accomplished, and potentially averted the disasters of sixty years later.

Piety and Philanthropy: The Pantokrator and the Law An anonymous letter addressed to John concerns the behaviour of an ideal emperor: the writer tells him that just as the good tree is identified by its good fruits, similarly a good king is known by his philanthropies and his application of justice.5 Further, the emperor is extolled to distribute wealth to the needy, women, the young and the old, imitating the rain that falls on both land and sea.6 Though this letter does not directly relate to either the founding of the Pantokrator or the reform of canon law, it neatly illustrates the sort of philanthropy for which John was being praised and encouraged to carry out. Indeed, a token or commemorative coin dating to this period bears an icon of the Pantokrator on one side and Proverbs 19:17 on the reverse: ‘he who gives to the poor lends to God’.7 We saw before how John appears to have been genuinely pious, with an especial devotion to the Virgin Mary, and so in many ways the founding of the Pantokrator with his wife was merely an expression of that personal piety. However, the scale of its philanthropy was especially immense, and when combined with the commentaries on civil and canon law that John commissioned and his other laws, it becomes

4  Cf. Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, p. 308; Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos, pp. 27–8. 5 ‘ὡς γὰρ τὸ δένδρον ἐκ του καρπου, οὕτω βασιλεὺς ἐκ του εὐεργετειν καὶ μαλλον τὸ κοινόν, οὐκ ἐκ του ἀδικειν γνωρίζεται’, G. Mercati, ‘Gli aneddoti d’un codice Bolognese’, BZ 6 (1897), p. 142. 6  Ibid., p. 140. 7 Proverbs 19:17; C.  Diehl, La société byzantine à l’époque des Comnènes: conférences faites à Bucharest (avril 1929) (Paris, 1929), p. 51. No further copies of this coin exist, but then if it was a limit­ed edition commemorative coin or some form of token, then few would have ever been produced.

308  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 apparent that John was attempting something that went well beyond charity to secure his personal salvation. The latter point is, of course, still significant, and the Pantokrator was very much in the tradition of both previous Komnenian foundations and, perhaps, an expression of Piroska-­Eirene’s likely upbring at a convent of the Theotokos at Veszprémvölgy, 100 km to the west of modern Budapest.8 The Synaxarion presents a stylized tale of the Pantokrator’s foundation, telling us that it was ori­gin­ al­ly the project of John’s wife. It is related that she took her husband by the hand into the unfinished church and then fell to the floor, burst into tears in order to entreat John into giving her ‘a greater helping hand’ to make the Pantokrator the most magnificent of churches.9 What began as a more modest monastic church therefore evolved into an immense foundation, both in its ecclesiastical buildings and in the philanthropy it would carry out. The central structure consists of three separate churches with three separate dedications, and from both restoration work carried out in the 1990s and viewing the floor plan, it is apparent that the last-­built church (the Heröon: dedicated to the Archangel St Michael) is somewhat awkwardly sandwiched between the other two (those being the principal monastic church dedicated to Christ Pantokrator, and the secondary church dedicated to the Virgin Eleousa).10 With the lack of contemporary brick stamps or dedicatory inscriptions, there is no way to date conclusively any part of the complex to a specific year of John’s reign; the only near certainties are that it was rapidly constructed and completed over the course of a decade.11 With the typikon dated to 1136 (mentioning all 8  Past Komnenian dedications include those to Christ: Pantepoptes ‘The all-­overseeing’, Philanthropos ‘who loves mankind’, and Evergetes ‘The benefactor’; Theotokos: Kecharitomene ‘full of grace’ and Pammakaristos ‘all-­blessed’. See: Magdalino, ‘The Pantokrator Monastery in its Urban Setting’, p. 39. On Piroska’s likely convent upbringing, see: Jeffreys, ‘Piroska and the Komnenian Dynasty’, pp. 113–15. 9  Synaxarium Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae. Propylaeunt ad Acta SS Novembris, ed. H. Delehaye (Brussels, 1902), pp. 887–90; tr. P.  Magdalino, ‘Appendix’ (2013), p. 34; Ousterhout, ‘Pantokrator: Reassessing the Architectural Evidence’, pp. 226–7; Magdalino, ‘The Pantokrator Monastery in its Urban Setting’, passim; Jeffreys, ‘Piroska and the Komnenian Dynasty’, pp. 109, 117. 10 R.  Ousterhout, ‘Architecture, Art and Komnenian Ideology at the Pantokrator Monastery’, Byzantine Constantinople: Monuments, Topography and Everyday Life, ed. N.  Necipoglu (Leiden, 2001), p. 133; Ousterhout, ‘Pantokrator: Reassessing the Architectural Evidence’, pp. 225–59; Ousterhout, ‘Constantinople and medieval urban identity’, The Byzantine World, ed. P. Stephenson (London, 2010), pp. 345–6. It has been suggested that the twin-­church design may have been the original intention, as that plan would have mirrored Alexios founding the monastery of Christ Philanthropos and his wife Eirene Doukaina founding the Kecharitomene, see: E. Demirtiken, ‘Imperial Women and Religious Foundations in Constantinople’, Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople, ed. M.  Sághy and R.  Ousterhout (Budapest, 2019), esp. pp. 184–6; Jeffreys, ‘Piroska and the Komnenian Dynasty’, pp. 108, 110–11. However, these were separate, albeit complementary, monastic foundations, while the Pantokrator has only one specifically monastic church and is a single building complex. 11  R. Ousterhout, M. Ahunbay, and Z. Ahunbey, ‘Study and Restoration of the Zeyrek Camii in Istanbul: First Report, 1997–98’, DOP 54 (2000), p. 268; M. Ahunbay and Z. Ahunbey, ‘Restoration Work at the Zeyrek Camii, 1997–1998’, Byzantine Constantinople: Monuments, Topography and Everyday Life, ed. N.  Necipoglu (Leiden, 2001), pp. 117–32. R.  Ousterhout, ‘Contextualising the Later Churches of Constantinople: Suggested Methodologies and a Few Examples’, DOP 54 (2000),

The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism  309

Figure 59  Floor plan of the three Pantokrator churches, E. Congdon, ‘Imperial Commemoration and Ritual in the Typikon of the Monastery of Christ Pantokrator’, REB 54 (1996), p. 189.

310  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 three churches and thus the likelihood that they were all constructed or nearing completion at the time of writing) this gives us a rough start date for the construction of the first church in 1126, with Isaac’s treachery in 1130 and Eirene’s death in 1134 constituting moments for expansion and accelerated construction that fit with the archaeological evidence and ideological messages too well for unintended coincidence.12 After the betrayal of Isaac in 1130, John’s need to influence the capital even while away on campaign grew exponentially; and as his need grew, so too did the Pantokrator.13 Both the typikon and the epigram for the inauguration of the Pantokrator allude to the circumstances of its foundation. In the introduction to the typikon, John gives thanks to God first for placing him as ruler of the ‘Ausonians’ (a Classical term for the Romans) and for his past victories, then for rescuing him from ambushes from within and without, particularly mentioning ‘those of my friends and relations who stood against me and wickedly distanced themselves from brotherly concord’.14 Though this may also represent an expression of gratitude to God for rescuing John from the plots of 1114–19, in the context of 1130 it was the treachery of Isaac that would have loomed large. Following this, John states that in return for these favours he submitted himself entirely to the will of God, which guided him to build the monastery with his ‘partner and helper in life’ with whom he shared its ‘planning, construction and completion’.15 The in­aug­ur­ation epigram adds to this picture by confirming once again that it was Eirene who raised the walls and buildings and gardens of the monastery, and it was she that was acclaimed founder as ‘Queen Xene’—this being the monastic name she took on her deathbed.16 However, the purpose of the ceremony and the poem is elucidated in the second half, where over many lines God is called upon pp. 247–8; Ousterhout, ‘Komnenian Ideology at the Pantokrator Monastery’, pp. 133–50. Many of the materials used appear to be reused sixth-­century bricks, including one brick stamp tentatively assigned to that period, supporting Magdalino’s thesis that the site was originally the house of Hilara, daughter of the emperor Maurice: P. Magdalino, Studies on the History and Topography of Byzantine Constantinople (Aldershot, 2007), pp. 68, 72–3. 12  ‘. . . παρὰ τῆς βασιλείας μου κατὰ μῆνα ὀκτώβριον, ἰνδικτίωνος πεντεκαιδεκάτης, ἔτους ἑξακισχιλιοστοῦ ἑξακοσιοστοῦ τεσσαρακοστοῦ πέμπτου’, Pantokrator Typikon, p. 131. 13  Ousterhout agreed that 1130 appears to be a likely date for when the other two churches were added, while from c.1118 to 1130 only the southern church was being constructed. I asked him this during questions for his paper, ‘Piroska and the Pantokrator’, presented at Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople, International Conference at the Central European University Budapest, 3 June 2015. 14 ‘…τῶν φίλων καὶ τῶν πλησίον ἀπεναντίας μοι στάντας καὶ ἀπομακρυνθέντας κακῶς τῆς ἀδελφικῆς ὁμονοίας καθελοῦσα καὶ συμποδίσασα’, Pantokrator Typikon, p. 28. ‘Ausones’ is a Greek form of Aurunci, used by the classical historians Livy and Diodorus Siculus, and in Greek poetry it was used as a term for all from Italy by poets such as Dionysus Periegetes in the first century AD, see: A. Kaldellis, Hellenism in Byzantium: The Transformations of Greek Identity and the Reception of the Classical Tradition (Cambridge, 2007), esp. pp. 63, 221, 303, 355, 374; Lau, ‘Rewriting History at the court of the Komnenoi’, p. 137. Its use here can be equated to using a term such as Albion to describe Britain. 15  ‘. . . τοῦ βίου κοινωνὸν καὶ συλλήπτορα’, and ‘…τῆς προθέσεως καὶ τῆς προσαγωγῆς καὶ τῆς πράξεως’, Pantokrator Typikon, p. 29. 16  Magdalino, ‘Appendix’, pp. 49–52, lines 30, 41, 52, 60, 136.

The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism  311 to grant victory to the emperor against his ungodly enemies, specifically the ‘offspring of Hagar’, lending him His right arm in battle to fulfil his wishes.17 By building and endowing the Pantokrator and its philanthropy, John was in the first place thanking God for the heavenly aid he received, and we know he continued to do so throughout his reign. An epigram by Kallikles commemorates John’s donation of a renovated icon of Christ to the Pantokrator after a campaign.18 The typikon includes a long list of properties from the estates of both John and his wife, and also mentions that there will be properties excluded ‘in the present document’, implying that John continued to gift new properties to the Pantokrator after 1136.19 This support was to enable the Pantokrator to serve as a dynastic monument to John’s victories: its monks would commemorate his soul and those of his family and ministers, and it is in this role that it has received much attention in past scholarship.20 But beyond this monumental role, the monastery of the Pantokrator was an immense philanthropic institution, and the typikon intricately lays out the workings of the hospital in particular.21 The text goes into minute detail regarding surgical tools, medicines, diets and the importance of bathing for the patients.22 At any one time there were to be twenty-­nine medical staff on duty, serving a maximum of sixty-­one patients who required beds, and six doctors devoted to those that had minor ailments. This would give it a patient-­to-­doctor ratio any modern hospital would envy, and the typikon even details that cloaks and shirts were to be provided for poorer patients, in addition to any new clothes required for medical reasons. This provision for the poor is also shown in its prohibition on the doctors seeing patients privately, and the typikon further stipulates that the hospital had to have an instructor of doctors in order to pass on medical knowledge to others.23 The necessity of 17  Ibid., lines 106–9, 126–35. 18 I.  Vassis, ‘Das Pantokratorkloster von Konstantinopel in der byzantinischen Dichtung’, The Pantokrator Monastery in Constantinople, ed. S. Kotzabassi (Berlin, 2013), pp. 221−4. 19 ‘ἐν τῇ παρούσῃ γραφῇ’, Pantokrator Typikon, pp. 115–25. 20  As an introduction, see: Congdon, ‘Commemoration and Ritual’, pp. 161–99; Magdalino, ‘The Pantokrator Monastery in its Urban Setting’, pp. 41–6, 54; Pentcheva, Icons and Power, p. 175; Ousterhout, ‘Urban identity’, p. 345; Ousterhout, ‘Reassessing the Architectural Evidence’, pp. 240, 253–4; F.  Spingou, ‘Ritual and Politics in the Pantokrator: A Lament in Two Acts for Eirene’s Son’, Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople, ed. M. Sághy and R. Ousterhout (Budapest, 2019), pp. 305–22; Papageorgiou, ‘Political Ideology’, p. 49. On relatives and officials commemorated, see: Pantokrator Typikon, pp. 235–62, esp. p. 234; Gkoutzioukostas, ‘Byzantine Officials in the Typikon of Christ Pantokrator’, pp. 71–81. 21  Pantokrator Typikon, pp. 85–107, 161; P.  Charanis, ‘The Monk as an Element of Byzantine Society’, DOP 25 (1971), pp. 61–84; Magdalino, ‘The Pantokrator Monastery in its Urban Setting’, p. 42; T. Wolford, ‘ “To each according to their need”: The Various Medieval Charitable Institutions of the Pantokrator Monastery’, Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople, ed. M. Sághy and R. Ousterhout (Budapest, 2019), esp. 204–9. 22  Pantokrator Typikon, pp. 92–105; Wolford, ‘To each according to their need’, pp. 211–14. 23  It has been suggested that there is inspiration from the Islamic hospital system for such medical instructors, an idea with which Wolford has some sympathy considering such figures do not appear until the twelfth century when contact between Islamic and Byzantine worlds was on the rise, even if the exact influences between Byzantine and Islamic medicine is unclear. Pantokrator Typikon, pp. 110–11;

312  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 projecting the image of a benevolent, legitimate, emperor in the capital after the attempted coup by John’s brother Isaac in 1130 surely played a role in the scale of this philanthropy, as did John wishing to honour his departed wife after 1134. But, when putting the Pantokrator alongside John’s other ecclesiastical initiatives, this was not merely a one-­off, reactive philanthropic policy. The reviews of both civil and canon law were also guided by mercy in this period, as were those few laws of John’s. The anonymous author of the c.1142 Ecloga Basilicorum is greatly concerned with the principle of ‘ὁ πρόσφορος δικαστής’, ‘the competent court or judge’ in addition to matters of jurisdiction, but this jurisprudence is predicated upon judges using the principle of φιλανθρωπία ‘love of man’ or φιλάγαθον ‘love of goodness’ in their judgements.24 A good judge is described as wise, just and charitable: ‘σοφὸς, δίκαιος, φιλανθρωπος’, and the Ecloga Basilicorum provides case examples as to how judges can utilize this in their judgements.25 This principle can be seen clearly in John’s few known laws: we saw in Chapter Two how John magnanimously allowed ­bishops who had been forced to vacate their sees to get their houses into order before they were taxed. Two further laws outline in their opening why they were being introduced. The first concerns inheritance tax, which John reformed in order ‘to prevent the overthrow of many great houses’ and so that matters will be better from this point onwards; the second law, concerning the disposition of a dowry after adultery, was passed due to John learning that a custom contrary to the law had become common in the provinces, and so he was setting down what should occur from then on.26 The provisions outlined in these laws also attempt to be kind to people in bad circumstances: the first law provides inheritance tax relief from the remaining dowry in some cases if the mother should die early, providing an obvious benefit to those in such a situation. The second is more complex. It outlines that it had become customary in the provinces for dowries to be seized in revenge in the case of a wife’s adultery. John sets down that this should only occur if there were no children; if there were, then the dowry should go to them, and John goes further to legislate that the dowry should be shared equally between the children of the marriage and the children of the adultery if A.  Philipsborn, ‘Der Fortschritt in der Entwicklung des byzantinischen Krankenhauswesens’, BZ 54 (1961), p. 355; T. Miller, The Birth of the Hospital in the Byzantine Empire (Baltimore, 1985), pp. xx–­xxi; P.  Horden, ‘Medieval Hospital Formularies: Byzantium and Islam Compared’, Medical Books in the Byzantine World, ed. B. Zipser (Bologna, 2013), pp. 145–64; Wolford, ‘To each according to their need’, pp. 210–11, 214–15. 24  Ecloga Basilicorum, competent court: pp. 68, 150–1, 305, 372, 514; jurisdiction: pp. 68, 235–7, 243–4, 250–2, 254–5, 259–60, 270, 279, 282, 372; φιλανθρωπία or φιλάγαθον: pp. 108–9, 150. Macrides, ‘Competent Court’, pp. 119–20; Penna, ‘Witness of Legal Practice’, pp. 142–53. 25  Michael Psellos, Michaelis Pselli Scripta minora magnam partem adhuc inedita. Vol. II: Epistulae, ed. E. Kurtz and F. Drexl (Milan, 1941), p. 47. See: Penna, ‘Witness of Legal Practice’, pp. 144–5, esp. n.  33 for a bibliography, though for a background on the evolution of the imperial legal system and philanthropia, see: Saradi, ‘Byzantine Tribunals’, pp. 165–204, esp. 168, 187. 26 Mortreuil, Droit Byzantin, vol. III, pp. 167–8, 485–6; Jus Graeco-­romanum, pp. 363–5.

The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism  313 there were some of each.27 Although this law does not benefit the adulterer, its focus on the welfare of the children, whether they were legitimate or not, is certainly aimed to demonstrate mercy and concern for those blameless in the crime. It is also worth recalling here that Choniates professes that that under John no one suffered capital, or even corporal, punishment.28 The reality of this startling abolition finds some corroboration in praises written for Emperor Alexios III Angelos by Niketas Choniates’ brother Archbishop Michael of Athens. He writes how John the ‘most kind’ banned judicial mutilation; thus, even if Niketas’ Choniates’ account is somewhat exaggerated in recording that John abolished the death penalty, John is likely to have mitigated judicial corporal punishments in at least one regard, in keeping with his other merciful legal initiatives.29 John’s long-­time concern for mercy is, however, attested by the fact that the jurist Alexios Aristenos completed his Synopsis of the Canons in c.1130, meaning that he must have been commissioned by John some years previously. Alexios had stipulated in his ecclesiastical reform edict of 1092/1107 that the synod should read, confirm, and renew the text of the nomokanon.30 Thus, a youthful John would have seen it as his mission to continue pushing for his father’s vision to be fulfilled. This decree ushered in the ‘great age of Byzantine canon law’, with the standard textbook that was the Nomokanon in Fourteen Titles being revised in c.1090, which was then followed by the commentary of Aristenos, and then those by Zonaras, Doxapatres, Balsamon, and more besides.31 Indeed, if our analysis is taken more widely, then a new analysis of canon law appears to be part of a Zeitgeist that swept all of Christendom in this period, which begs a comparative study in the future. In the west we have Gratian, the so-­called father of western canon law, but less well known we find Arsen of Iqalt’oeli translating the Great Nomokanon from Greek into Georgian at King David the Builder’s great centre of learning at the Gelati Monastery, just outside the old capital of Kutaisi, from 1114. Further, there exists a Coptic Nomokanon from Patriarch Gabriel ibn Turaik (1131–45), who also composed thirty-­two canons aimed at reforming both clergy and laity.32 John and his father were therefore very much part of a pan-­Christian 27 Ibid. 28  NC, p. 47. 29 ‘ἀγανώτατε Ἰωάννη’: Michael Choniates, σωζόμενα I, p. 318. With thanks to Paul Magdalino for this reference. 30  Gautier, ‘L’édit d’Alexis’, pp. 196–7. Highlighted by Morton, ‘Neilos Doxapatres’, p. 742. Though 1092 is the most widely accepted date for this decree, Bara has recently argued that the 1107 date is entirely due to a copyist error in the one manuscript that gives a date, and, further, that the major themes of the edict are paralleled by other sources from 1092, making an earlier date more likely. See: Bara, Prelates, Paideia, Politics, pp. 107–19, 132. This corresponds with the date originally suggested by Dölger and Wirth, see: Regesten der Kaiserkunden 3, pp. 132–3. 31  A. Schminck, ‘Das Prooimion der Bearbeitung des Nomokanons in 14 Titeln durch Michael und Theodoros’, Fontes Minores 10 (1998), esp. pp. 379–83. As Morton points out, this adds strength to the argument for dating Alexios’ reform edict to 1092, as this revision would then directly follow the reform edict. Morton, ‘Neilos Doxapatres’, p. 742. 32 On Gratian see in particular the classic work of: S.  Kuttner, ‘The Father of the Science of Medieval Canon Law’, The Jurist: Studies in Church Law and Ministry 1 (1941), pp. 2–19. Recently

314  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 movement to recodify canon law, potentially even its founders, and certainly its sponsors. Regarding John and Aristenos’ specific contribution to this movement, two immediate themes are apparent: clarity and mercy. This first point is neatly illustrated in the new edition of Aristenos’ Synopsis of the Canons, where a large number of canons are glossed simply with the description ‘ Σαφής’ [clear], while many other comments are kept short and to the point.33 Though the work of Balsamon has been acclaimed as an improvement on earlier commentators for providing examples of current practice and generally engaging with the reader in discussion over the canons, and Zonaras too always provides discussion and opinion, Aristenos’ work has all the hallmarks of a quick reference guide for a practitioner wanting a simple answer to a simple query.34 The fact that the basis of his text is the aforementioned eleventh-­century nomokanon rather than the complete syntagma of the canons attests to this also, in addition to implying that Aristenos’ synopsis was the natural development from this text: fulfilling Alexios’ mandate to read and confirm, and ‘renew’ the ­canons.35 Its potential practical use as a handbook also links it to the Ecloga Basilicorum, such that between the two texts we have what amounts to a two-­volume quick reference guide to the previously impenetrably verbose corpus of civil and ecclesiastical Roman law. It is the second point where Aristenos’ commentary is especially set apart from his fellows, however. His writing expands into greater detail on occasion, and so between focusing on these unusually long sections, and the short, bold comments on potentially controversial canons, we can identify the major themes that Aristenos was emphasizing in his canonical hermeneutics. A rare exception to Aristenos’ lack of personal statements occurs when he decried canon 2 of the Council of Serdica (343 ce).36 The canon states that communion should be refused at the point of death to someone found guilty of trying to rig an episcopal election in his favour, but Aristenos vociferously argues that communion should never be refused at such a moment. Likewise, his commentary on the Synod of Ankyra (314 ce) is especially lenient. This council had been specifically concerned with how to deal with Christians who had been persecuted and then apostatized under duress in late antiquity. In canons 1–2, Aristenos is

supplemented by a new wave of scholarship, especially: A. Larson, Master of Penance: Gratian and the Development of Penitential Thought and Law in the Twelfth Century (Washington, DC, 2014); J. Wei, Gratian the Theologian (Washington, DC, 2016). For an overview of the east, see: H.  Kaufhold, ‘Sources of Canon Law in the Eastern Churches’, The History of Byzantine and Eastern Canon Law to 1500, ed. W. Hartmann and K. Pennington (Washington, DC, 2012), pp. 278, 283–4, 335. On p. 218 he also notes how the Copts seem well informed on new canons from other churches, and the responses of Balsamon to Mark of Alexandria certainly attest to contact between Chalcedonian Churches in Constantinople and Egypt towards the end of the twelfth century, see: RP IV, pp. 447–96. 33  Also noted in Macrides, ‘Nomos and Kanon’, p. 76. 34 Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 293–4. 35  Troianos, ‘Byzantine Canon Law’, p. 179. 36  Aristenos, ‘Synopsis canonum’, p. 97; Macrides, ‘Nomos and Kanon’, p. 76.

The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism  315 markedly kinder than Zonaras when they discuss priests who return to the faith after apostatizing, while canon 5 displays additional compassion on those who converted only briefly, ‘with tears’.37 Whether this was mainly an academic exercise on outdated canons, or did in fact reflect that these canons had taken on a new relevance in the twelfth century, we see the same expressions of mercy in Aristenos’ commentary on canons concerned with marriage. These also display an active engagement with civil laws as well. A prominent example is canon 9 of Basil the Great, which clearly states that women may not separate from their husbands. However, Aristenos notes that this canon had been superseded by the Justinianic civil legislation on divorce, which is allowed with just cause, as established by a judge with reference to the Basilica.38 Similarly, the original canon 11 of the synod of Ankyra decrees that any woman who is betrothed and kidnapped must be returned to her original intended. However, Aristenos’ commentary (longer than that of Zonaras and almost the same length as Balsamon’s) tells us that if the kidnapped woman is willing (‘ἡ ἁρπαγεῖσα θέλῃ γυνή’), and a child has been produced, then she and her kidnapper may marry, seemingly permitting elopement as long as a child is produced.39 Aristenos goes into great detail when it comes to one particular marriage issue in canon 93 of the Council in Trullo: that which sought to cover the rules regarding soldiers returning home to discover that their wives had remarried while they were presumed dead.40 Though also drawing on Justinianic legislation, Aristenos’ final comment allows the soldier to try to reunite with his wife if he wishes, again allowing for personalized settlements to complicated social problems. This last example evidences the seeming especial resonance the canons of the Council in Trullo appear to have had in Aristenos’ commentary. Like the twelfth century, the late seventh-­century empire had been wracked by invasions, territorial loss, and displacements, and so it should not be surprising that these canons took on a new vitality. Trullo 62 forbade certain pagan festivals to both clergy and laymen with a view to improving moral standards for all Christians, but where Zonaras goes into detail concerning the potential sins of laughing and dancing, Aristenos merely forbids involvement.41 This more forgiving outlook is reflected in his commentary on multiple other canons: 21 affirms that priests who break canon law can be 37  Aristenos, ‘Synopsis canonum’, pp. 30–2; RP III, pp. 21–2. 38  Aristenos, ‘Synopsis canonum’, pp. 219–20; RP IV, pp. 120–3. In Viscuso’s research on the later canonist Blastares, who draws on all three of his eminent twelfth-­century predecessors, he notes that Aristenos ‘definitely summarises this discussion’ with his shorter commentary, as opposed to the more verbose commentaries of Zonaras, Balsamon and Blastares, demonstrating Aristenos’ utility in these cases. See: P.  Viscuso, A Byzantine theology of marriage: The ‘Syntagma kata stoicheion’ of Matthew Blastares (unpublished doctoral thesis, Catholic University of America, 1989), pp. 153–5. 39  Aristenos, ‘Synopsis canonum’, pp. 33–4; RP III, pp. 41–3. 40  Aristenos, ‘Synopsis canonum’, pp. 195–6. 41  M. Parisanidi, ‘Entertainment in the Twelfth-­century Canonical Commentaries: Were Standards the Same for Byzantine Clerics and Laymen?’, BMGS 38.2 (2014), pp. 185–200; Aristenos, ‘Synopsis canonum’, p. 188.

316  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 restored if they are repentant, and merely laicized if not; 43 confirms that everyone has the right to become a monk if they wish; 44 allows monks guilty of fornication simply to marry.42 A phrase that may summarize this entire ecclesiastical project is found in Aristenos’ linked commentaries on Trullo 16 and canons 14/15 of the Council of Neakaisareia: the latter limited the number of deacons in a city to seven, as prescribed in the Book of Acts, but Aristenos notes that the number of deacons can exceed seven as long as they do not take part in the mysteries of the mass. Further, that this was in order that the church not be lacking ‘both phil­ an­thropy and zeal’ (φιλανθρωπίας τε καὶ σπουδῆς).43 Though this is by no means a comprehensive survey of the canonical commentary of Aristenos, it does neatly evidence how distinctively associated they are with mercy. Later centuries would see the ecclesiastical courts become ‘a refuge for orphans, victims of injustice, and the defenceless’, and the evidence from Aristenos’ commentary suggests that this evolution began during John’s reign.44 Aristenos’ views may also derive in no small part from the fact that he not only held prominent judicial positions such as nomophylax but also was the orphanotrophos: the director of the great imperial orphanage of Constantinople that had been endowed and expanded greatly by John’s father Alexios.45 Thus, Aristenos’ own career also epitomizes how phil­an­ thropy was being woven into the fabric of the empire under John. Naturally, all of this could be interpreted cynically as a political play for popular support. So too with the Pantokrator: in order to maintain control over Constantinople while John campaigned, an impressive monastic foundation that cared for the poor was useful propaganda. Though certainly true, reducing all of this altruism to political calculation would undervalue all kinds of philanthropy by rulers in any place and in any era. John’s nickname of ‘Kaloioannes’ will be discussed further in the Conclusion, but when surveying his philanthropy, it appears to be well earned. John would, however, need every positive reputation he could earn if he was to move forward with his most ambitious project, however: the reunification of Christendom.

Preparation for an Ecumenical Council In 1089, just before the First Crusade, Alexios had invited Pope Urban II to Constantinople in order to hold an ecumenical council of the church.46 This had been the way Christendom had established both ecclesiastical and political 42  Aristenos, ‘Synopsis canonum’, pp. 172–3, 182. 43  Aristenos, ‘Synopsis canonum’, pp. 46–7, 170. 44 Angold, Church and Society, p. 241. 45  Aristenos’ position is mentioned in the titles of Prodromos, LVI and Basilakes, Or. 10. On the orphanotrophos, see: R.  Guilland, ‘Étude sur l’histoire administrative de l’empire byzantine: L’orphanotrophe’, REB 23 (1965), pp. 205–21. 46  Cf. Chapter Three.

The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism  317 consensus since the first ecumenical council had been convened by Emperor Constantine in 325 ce, such that even Bohemond had suggested that a council be held to resolve his conflict with Alexios in 1106/8. Though neither Urban II nor his successor Pascal II accepted the invitation, they and John would encourage debates between eastern and western clerics to prepare the way for such a council. John would further task his clergy to better establish their position through canonical exegesis, and he would involve himself directly in outreach to Latin churches inside and outside his territories. It should also be appreciated that these initiatives were being carried out alongside similar outreach to Armenian Christians in particular, as we saw in Chapter Eight. John’s conquests had led to many Armenian and Latin Christians falling under his aegis, and if he and his successors intended to secure these ter­ri­tor­ies and further conquests, the le­git­im­acy conferred by an ecumenical council would be essential. It would allow John to smooth over relations with these new subjects and foreign powers beyond, in addition to the prestige John would gain by being counted alongside Constantine and the other emperors who had convened these great councils. John’s early death would lead to Manuel having to restart many of John’s plans on the backfoot, such that the momentum towards a council, which had built through John’s reign, was lost. Examining this momentum, however, allows us to see what John planned, and therefore the nature of an ecumenical policy that might have seen Christendom reunited. These debates between western and eastern churches are still ongoing in the twenty-­first century. A multitude of theological, cultural, and political points have been under dispute for the last millennium, but when examining the debates and canonical commentaries during John’s reign, two crucial points of argument are especially prominent. The first was the filioque clause that the western church had added to the Chalcedonian formulation of the Nicene-­Constantinopolitan creed, which raised questions regarding the nature of the Trinity; the second was the issue of Roman Papal primacy over the entire church of east and west.47 In response to these issues, the main picture that emerges from our sources is that the eastern church was making moves to compromise on the filioque with concessions to the Latin position, as long as the definition of Papal primacy remained limited. In order to prepare the ground for such a compromise, the plan was to hold a series of lower-­level debates to negotiate these differences in advance. The future ecumenical council could therefore take place without one side or the other alienated by the prospect of losing any debates, as it was in the interest of both sides to avoid a schism, such as had occurred after the councils of Ephesus (431 ce) and Chalcedon (451 ce).

47  For an introduction to these issues, see: Papadakis and Meyendorff, Christian East and the Rise of the Papacy, pp. 151–98; A.  Siecienski, The Filioque: History of a Doctrinal Controversy (Oxford, 2010); Siecienski, The Papacy and the Orthodox: Sources and History of a Debate (Oxford, 2017).

318  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Though it has been opined that the theological nature of these debates indicates that the emperor was not attempting himself to unify the churches, this analysis underestimates John by implying that he would not have appreciated the importance of getting the theology right first. As the fifteenth-­century successors of these clerics would discover after the Council of Ferrara-­Florence (1431–49) attempted to reunify eastern and western Christians, if the church at home on one side or the other simply did not accept the theological and ecclesiological conclusions then any compromises simply would not hold. Thus, these debates should certainly be seen as an example of both churches attempting to sort out their issues in a way most likely to lead to actual resolution.48 John had been an adult and a statesman through Alexios’ various dealings with Latin clerics. The clear continuity in policy between the debates under Alexios and those under John indicates that this was another plan that they initially worked on together before 1118, one which John intended to finish.49 Regarding Alexios, the consensus of most scholars is that he was willing to introduce western theological pos­ itions, ‘if and when it was considered profitable for the empire’, and John should be seen as much the same in this regard.50 We can see this highlighted during the 1112 visit by Peter of Grossolano, Archbishop of Milan, who set out the Latin position to the church of Constantinople, and, thus, to Alexios and presumably John.51 Peter debated with seven eastern theologians, including the soon-­to-­be-­tried Eustratios of Nicaea, together with the prominent theologians John Phournes, Niketas Sides, and probably Theophylact of Ohrid too; importantly, though Peter called on Alexios to be the judge, he also stated clearly that this was the prerogative of the papacy.52 The Latin account of this debate relates that Alexios supposedly found Peter’s position on the filioque convincing, and instructed his theologians to produce one text on the filioque amalgamating their positions with Peter’s arguments.53 Admittedly, the ­favouritism exhibited towards Peter, and the note that Alexios’ theologians should supposedly write up their argument in Latin, certainly suggests that this account has been embellished to at least some extent. Subsequent theological tracts

48 D.  Nicol, The Last Centuries of Byzantium, 1261–1453 (2nd ed., Cambridge, 1993), esp. pp. 306–78; S. Dezhynyuk, Council of Florence: The Unrealised Union (unpublished master’s thesis, Phillips Theological Seminary, Tulsa OK, 2015); Papadakis and Meyendorff, Christian East and the Rise of the Papacy, pp. 379–408; Siecienski, The Filioque, pp. 151–72; Siecienski, Papacy and the Orthodox, pp. 327–38. Treadgold notes that neither Alexios nor John was willing to impose unity, Treadgold, State and Society, p. 690, though encouraging the church to accept unity was certainly within their remit. 49  Bucossi, ‘Filioque’, p. 122. 50  Ibid. Citing: P.  Lamma, Comneni e Staufer: ricerche sui rapport fra Bisanzio e l’Occidente nel secolo XII (Rome, 1955), p. 21. 51  Bucossi, ‘Filioque’, p. 122; Shepard, ‘Hard on Heretics, Light on Latins’, pp. 776–7. 52  Bucossi, ‘Six Dialogues of Niketas’, pp. 141–4; Bucossi, ‘Filioque’, pp. 122–3, citing: Peter Grossolano, Due sermoni inedita di Pietro Grosolano, Arcivescovo di Milano, ed. A. Amelli (Florence, 1933), p. 35. 53  Peter Grossolano, Due sermoni inedita di Pietro Grosolano, pp. 35–6; Shepard, ‘Hard on Heretics, Light on Latins’, pp. 776–7.

The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism  319 evidence an eastern position on the filioque issue shaped by an increasing concern for precision in the technical theological language used, but, assuming these concerns were addressed, eastern theologians were open to the Latin pos­ition. Theophylact in particular noted that the Latin error was in confusing procession (ἐκπορεύεσθαι) with bestowal (χορηγεῖσθαι) due to the imprecision of Latin as a language (which merely uses procedere to convey all such meanings). Theophylact concluded that this was an error of ignorance, and as long as both sides agreed on the theology, the Latin addition was acceptable. He does, however, also note that nothing should be added to the Greek creed, as this would be an innovation (καινοτομία) that had not been authorized by any church council.54 Such a council would have to occur before any addition could be made. Papal authority was another matter. Theophylact praised the Pope as the successor of St Peter, but he also condemned the papacy for claiming to speak with Peter’s voice and authority, clearly setting out the position that would be taken up in the next great debate between east and west: the aforementioned 1136 discussions between Anselm of Havelberg and Niketas of Nikomedeia.55 The fraternal atmosphere and search for understanding between the participants is noteworthy in the Latin account of this debate, and this is reflected in the choice of venues.56 The first part of the debate was in the church of Hagia Eirene close to the Pisan quarter, and thus, at least close to ‘Latin’ ground in Constantinople; the second part took place on ‘Greek’ ground in Hagia Sophia.57 This may have reflected debates held the previous year when John’s ambassadors first visited Emperor Lothar in Merseberg, Germany, though if so, no record remains.58 For the Constantinopolitan debate, we are told that there were so many onlookers that some had to stand, and that a certain Moses of Bergamo, perhaps Jewish from his name, acted as a neutral translator.59 Anselm opened by saying he was not there to quarrel, but to understand his opponent’s faith, and his own, better, displaying an admirable spirit of cooperation.60 Most

54  Theophylact of Ohrid, Discours, Traités, Poésies, esp. p. 257; Bucossi, ‘Filioque’, p. 131; Siecienski, The Filioque, p. 116. 55 Hussey, Orthodox Church, p. 1802; Ciggaar, Western Travellers, p. 262; Kolbaba, ‘Latin Christians’, pp. 124–5; Siecienski, Papacy and the Orthodox, p. 266, citing: PG 123, p. 1073, PG 124, p. 313 and PG 126, p. 241. Cf. Chapter Eight. 56 Siecienski, The Filioque, pp. 121–3; Siecienski, Papacy and the Orthodox, pp. 268–7. 57  Novicoff, ‘Anselm of Havelberg’, p. 116. 58  Bucossi, ‘Filioque’, p. 123. 59  Novicoff, ‘Anselm of Havelberg’, p. 116; Anselm of Havelberg, Anticimeron, tr. Sieben, p. 77; tr. Criste & Neel, p. 45. We have a letter from Moses in 1129 ‘ex Datia’ (assumedly referring to Dacia: Hungary), suggesting that Moses worked as a translator for John at the end of his war with Stephen. Rodriguez Suarez, ‘From Greek into Latin: Western scholars and translators in Constantinople during the reign of John II’, John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium, In the Shadow of Father and Son, eds. A. Bucossi and A. Rodriguez Suarez (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 100–2. Moses also produced a poem for John on his native city, Milan: Moses of Bergamo, ‘Il ‘Liber Pergaminus’ di Mosè de Brolo’, ed. G. Gorni, Studi Medievali 11 (1970), pp. 409–60. Moses was therefore originally from Italy but now worked for John, and if he was Jewish as well, then he was perhaps as neutral a translator as could be found. 60 Ibid.

320  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 importantly, Anselm demonstrates throughout his text that when both bishops attempt to trap each other using Aristotelian logic they get nowhere, but when they debate with the spirit of harmony and brotherhood they make progress; Niketas even suggests that there should be a church council called under western leadership to truly resolve their issues.61 Though the latter suggestion may be an addition of Anselm’s for the papal audience of his text, it once more makes clear how all of these debates were intended to be a prelude to an ecumenical council as far as both sides were concerned. Indeed, one of Niketas’ main objections to the filioque is that no council had authorized it, and so the implication contained in Anselm’s text is that if a council were held then this objection would be removed. This was especially because the debate ended on a note of agreement where Niketas allowed that the Son had a role in the procession of the Holy Spirit, while Anselm allowed that the Father remained the principal source of divinity.62 However, they remained at loggerheads over papal primacy. Niketas’ powerful words regarding the papacy ‘assuming a monarchy which does not belong to her office’, and seeking to make ‘slaves, not sons’ of the church in the east rather than take council with them in brotherhood, is still quoted in modern times as emblematic of the Orthodox view of Rome’s claims to supremacy.63 Still, even within this fiery denunciation, perhaps all the more intriguing since it is related in a Latin source, Niketas agreed that Rome had primacy during a general council, even if in more usual ecclesiastical matters, Constantinople was able to govern itself since it had become the imperial city.64 Overall, Niketas advocated a developed version of the positions set out by Theophylact of Ohrid, with the focus once more being on the future council that would resolve these issues absolutely. Perhaps significantly, in the Pantokrator typikon that was promulgated in the October after these 1136 debates, John decreed that a lamp should burn in front of the images of the ecumenical councils in the monastic church all night, every night.65 Though this could be coincidence, it appears that in his own words and in his own monastery, the emperor had both commissioned images of the councils, and noted that they should be honoured by his monks. This certainly indicates that councils were on his mind in this year of ecumenical debate. It is therefore likely that he would have pushed for negotiations to continue the following year. Two further debates were held in Italy with visiting eastern theologians: June and July 1137 saw meetings with Emperor Lothar and Pope Innocent II, primarily 61  Novicoff, ‘Anselm of Havelberg’, pp. 116–19. 62 Siecienski, The Filioque, pp. 121–3; Anselm of Havelberg, Anticimeron, passim. 63  Anselm of Havelberg, Anticimeron, tr. Sieben, p. 150; tr. Criste & Neel, p. 171; Siecienski, Papacy and the Orthodox, pp. 269–71; S. Runciman, The Eastern Schism: A Study of the Papacy and the Eastern Churches during the XIth and XIIth Centuries (Oxford, 1955), p. 116; K. Ware, The Orthodox Church (London, 1993), p. 57. 64  Anselm of Havelberg, Anticimeron, tr. Sieben, pp. 150–1; tr. Criste & Neel, pp. 170–84. 65  Pantokrator, pp. 37–9.

The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism  321 to discuss the alliance against Roger of Sicily. The first involved a figure referred to as ‘Mauros Kouropalates’, and the second a Greek ‘philosopher’, who might well be Michael Italikos if his letter to John regarding being an ambassador to ‘Rome’ is interpreted as him being an ambassador to the Pope and the German emperor rather than to the city itself.66 We do not have a record of these two debates, but supposedly one was made for at least the second of them. It was specifically written in Greek for dissemination in the east to the patriarch of Constantinople and the ‘Imperator Porphyrogenitus’: John himself.67 This reference, together with these negotiations including discussion of pol­it­ ical alliance together with theological and ecclesiological matters, demonstrates further the context in which John wrote his two Roman letters expressing his belief in the unity of the church. Rather than involve himself directly in theo­ logic­al debates in the manner of Alexios and later emperors, John delegated this to theological specialists, in what was probably a calculated move to ensure that there could be no accusation of the emperor prioritizing political concerns over spiritual ones. John’s apparent lack of involvement in these debates was a political choice that allowed him to appear neutral and a fitting adjudicator for a future council. His letters to Rome, and the sending of ambassadors to debate theology, should be seen in the context of the diplomatic evidence that he was assessing what was occurring with great interest. He was working alongside the church to achieve a settlement acceptable to both west and east, rather than pushing for political alliance without ecclesiastical agreement. From the above debates, the solution to compromise on the filioque as long as Rome’s claims to primacy were limited, and to seal it all with an ecumenical council that would bring prestige to all parties, is ­re-­emphasized in two final groups of sources in John’s reign: the theology in the dialogues of Niketas of Thessalonike, and the ecclesiology in the canonical ­commentaries. These, together with the mention of councils in the Pantokrator typikon, again demonstrate John’s supervision but, notably, no direct involvement. Niketas is attested as chartophylax [‘archivist’—though this office-­holder was also the head of the Great Church’s chancery, and became the Patriarch’s main deputy] of the Great Church on a seal datable to between 1121 and 1133, since he took up his episcopal position in Thessalonike in 1133.68 He had perhaps heard of

66  ‘Chronica Monasterii Casinensis’, pp. 570, 590; Italikos 23, pp. 173–5; Bucossi, ‘Filioque’, p. 124. Though the location of the first meeting is unclear, the second took place at Lagopesole, between Melfi and Potenza. 67  Peter the Deacon, ‘Altercatio contra Graecum quondam, sive Defensio Romanae Ecclesiae ad orationem legati Constantinopolitani imperatoris in aula Lotharii’, Miscellanea Cassinese, ed. A. Amelli (Montecassino, 1897), p. 28; Bucossi, ‘Filioque’, p. 124. 68  Chartophylax: J. Darrouzès, Recherches sur les ὈΦΦΙΚΙΑ de l’église byzantine (Paris, 1970), esp. p. 340; ODB, ‘Chartophylax’, pp. 415–16. Niketas: V. Laurent, Le Corpus des sceaux de l’empire byzantin. L’église: Supplément (Paris, 1972), no. 1647; L. Petit, ‘Évêques de Thessalonique’, Echos d’Orient 5 (1901), p. 28.

322  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Anselm and Niketas of Nikomedeia’s debates, but possibly not their exact content.69 This Niketas had therefore gone from the Patriarch’s deputy in Constantinople to become bishop of one of the premier sees in the empire: he could certainly have been commissioned to write his dialogues by either the emperor or the patriarch, but it would be all the more remarkable if he had written them on his own initiative.70 Either way, he relates to us a mission very similar to that expressed by Anselm in his debate. Niketas tells us he writes in order to resolve the quarrel between ‘us and the Latins, aiming to eradicate the separation between the two’, and so we can deduce that his intended audience were eastern Christians that he sought to convince of his position.71 There is possible inter­text­ual­ity between the dialogues and the positions expressed by Peter Grossolano in 1112.72 Since it is not impossible that Niketas had been present for that debate, his text may be actively following the orders of Alexios that theologians should in­corp­or­ate Peter’s propositions into their arguments.73 His use of the same metaphors and analogies as Grossolano (especially in the Fourth dialogue), and his engagement with Latin ideas as a whole, does not condescend to the Latins, or excuse their ignorance as Theophylact did. Instead, he systematically takes the reader through both the Greek and Latin positions through the speech of his two characters: a Greek and a Latin cleric. It is striking that the resolution of this debate echoes that of Anselm and the other Niketas, with the Greek cleric making a concession on the filioque: the character accepts that the Holy Spirit proceeding either ‘through the Son’ [διὰ τοῦ Υἱοῦ] or ‘from the Son’ [ἐκ τοῦ Υἱοῦ] was interchangeable, though he still advocated that the filioque not be added to the Greek creed simply due to it being an innovation.74 However, Niketas too does not accept Roman ­primacy, insisting that only an ecumenical council could truly establish such a doctrine.75 And when it came to that council, we find in the canonical commentaries the arguments that Greek clerics were ready to deploy in support of their position. These will be addressed below, but by way of preparation it should be appreciated that this compromise on the filioque is roughly similar to the one proposed both at the Council of Ferrara-­Florence, and the one upheld by modern Roman Catholics and liberal Orthodox theologians: the filioque is omitted when the

69  Bucossi, ‘Six Dialogues by Niketas’, pp. 138, 145–7; Bucossi, ‘Filioque’, pp. 126–30. 70  His aforementioned use of the military metaphor for the Trinity might imply a lot of time spent with soldiers or even John himself, or that his text was also written for military men, although this remains simply a hypothesis without further evidence. 71  Bucossi, ‘Six Dialogues of Niketas’, p. 137. 72  Bucossi, ‘Six Dialogues of Niketas’, pp. 142–4. 73  Shepard, ‘Hard on Heretics, Light on Latins’, pp. 776–7. 74  Giorgetti, ‘Niceta di Maronea’, p. 224; Bucossi, ‘Filioque’, pp. 130–1; Bucossi, ‘Six Dialogues of Niketas’, p. 140; Siecienski, The Filioque, p. 123. 75  Bucossi, ‘Filioque’, p. 127; Siecienski, The Filioque, p. 123.

The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism  323 creed is said in Greek, and the theology understood more or less as above.76 Though far from perfect, as the continuing schism between Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Christians evidences, this was a workable solution, and one that was increasingly necessary due to the number of Latin Christians who already lived in the empire, and those who might in future. Making this theo­ logic­al compromise went hand in hand with a harder negotiating position regarding the ecclesiology of Roman primacy, as what John and his church wanted was jurisdiction over Christians of all confessions in at least the lands of the current empire. These canonical commentaries were, therefore, a key part of forming arguments for the expected ecumenical council. At the same time, John was carrying out a ‘soft power’ charm offensive with Latin Christians to gather support for the emperor’s ecumenical authority. The two crucial canons that support the eastern position on Roman primacy are Chalcedon 28 and Trullo 36: these affirm that Constantinople had ‘equal’ privileges to Rome [ἴσα πρεσβεῖα], while they also decreed that New Rome (Constantinople) was next in rank to elder Rome.77 Aristenos—­who, it should be emphasized once more, was specifically commissioned by John—­interpreted the word ‘next’ as entirely relating to the chronological date of when privileges were gifted, though this argument was deemed as specious by Zonaras who wrote soon after. Zonaras was perhaps specifically criticizing Aristenos when he noted that the canon definitely refers to rank, and that anyone who says otherwise is overly keen on ensuring that Constantinople’s honour is not diminished.78 This is where Neilos Doxapatres’ text from c.1143, specifically named the Order of the Patriarchal Thrones [Τάξις τῶν πατριαρχικῶν θρόνων], is relevant. He goes further than Aristenos and even the later Balsamon in affirming that old Rome had actually lost its status as an imperial seat due to the Lombard conquest centuries before. As a consequence, and because the emperor was the one with true authority over the church, it was therefore in Constantinople that true primacy lay; this was only insofar as ensuring the orthodoxy of the other patriarchates, not in actual jurisdictional matters such as appointing bishops.79 Doxapatres is here 76  Papadakis and Meyendorff, Christian East and the Rise of the Papacy, pp. 379–408; Siecienski, The Filioque, pp. 151–72; Siecienski, Papacy and the Orthodox; K. Ware, ‘Christian theology in the East 600–1453’, A History of Christian Doctrine, ed. H. Cunliffe-­Jones (London, 2006), p. 208; ‘The Greek and Latin Traditions Regarding the Procession of the Holy Spirit. Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity’, L’Osservatore Romano (English edition, 20 September 1995), p. 3, archived at: https:// web.archive.org/web/20040903132523/http://www.ewtn.com/library/CURIA/PCCUFILQ. HTM. Siecienski notes in Papacy and the Orthodox that the ‘Council of Ferrara-­Florence was what the East had been requesting for centuries’, p. 328. 77  RP II, pp. 281, 387; Aristenos, ‘Synopsis canonum’, pp. 73, 178. 78  RP II, p. 282; Morton, ‘Revising Neilos Doxapatres’ Order of the Patriarchal Thrones’, p. 745. 79 Siecienski, Papacy and the Orthodox, pp. 171–2; Morton, ‘Revising Neilos Doxapatres’ Order of the Patriarchal Thrones’, pp. 745–8, citing: Neilos Doxapatres, ‘Τάξις τῶν πατριαρχικῶν θρόνων 3’, Hieroclis Synecdemus et Notitiae Graecae episcopatuum; accedunt Nili Doxapatri Notitia patriarchatuum et locorum nomina immutata, ed. G.  Parthey (2nd ed., Amsterdam, 1967), pp. 287–92. In general, see: Ciggaar, Western Travellers, pp. 289–90.

324  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 advocating the Pentarchic system of five equal patriarchates, which he enunciates specifically by equating the patriarchs to the five senses of the human body, with the role of the emperor being crucial for the church to operate.80 Doxapatres may have formulated his argument in this way as an attempt to redeem himself in John’s eyes and return to Constantinople from exile in Sicily, though the idea of the primacy of Constantinople over Rome is also expressed in the Alexiad, where Anna (erroneously) tells us that the emperors had given primacy to Constantinople since the council of Chalcedon.81 This argument would require an ecumenical council almost totally subservient to the eastern church in order to be accepted, but there is something to be said for Aristenos’ short commentary that explains how various options were on the table. Where the original canon of Chalcedon 28 mentions that Constantinople had jurisdiction over the Pontic, Asian and Thracian dioceses (the original fourth-­century administrative sub-­ divisions), Aristenos’ commentary (as distinct from the other commentaries) adds more specific geographical regions: Macedonia, Illyria, Thessalia, Attica, the Peloponnese, all Epirus, and unspecified ‘pagan’ [ἐθνῶν] lands.82 The argument for the superiority of Constantinople over Rome expressed by Anna and Doxapatres can be explained as the most extreme negotiating position to be deployed against any claims of papal monarchy, whereas Aristenos’ list of regions comes across as those regions over which Constantinople was determined to retain control in a more balanced jurisdictional settlement. We saw in Chapter Six how the southern Dalmatian cities were once more brought into the imperial orbit during John’s reign, and with the competing claims of the Normans, Hungarians, and Venetians in the region, we can see how Illyria would be somewhere over which both the church and the empire would be keen to retain every kind of jurisdiction. This was in addition to the many Latin churches already in the empire, with which Alexios and John had sought to foster positive relations in order to set themselves up as legitimate suzerains of western Christians. To give a brief survey, Constantinople was home to a number of Latin rite churches already, in particular the Venetian Churches of St Acindynus and St Nicholas (established c.1090), while a place of worship for the Varangian Guard, his personal bodyguard, dedicated to the Virgin and possibly St Olaf is also attested (as noted in Chapter Four).83 Alexios gave the Pisans an official space in 80  Neilos Doxapatres, ‘Τάξις τῶν πατριαρχικῶν θρόνων’, p. 286; J.  Siciliano, ‘The Theory of the Pentarchy and view on papal supremacy in the ecclesiology of Neilos Doxapatrius and his contemporaries’, Byzantine Studies/Études byzantines 6 (1979), pp. 167–77; Morton, ‘Revising Neilos Doxapatres’ Order of the Patriarchal Thrones’, pp. 746–8. 81  AK, 1.13, p. 44; Siciliano, ‘Theory of the Pentarchy’, pp. 176–7; Morton, ‘Revising Neilos Doxapatres’ Order of the Patriarchal Thrones’, pp. 732–56. 82  RP II, p. 286; Aristenos, ‘Synopsis canonum’, p. 73. 83 Venetians: Tafel and Thomas, Urkunden I, pp. 67–8 and p. 56, respectively; R.  Janin, ‘Les Sanctuaires des colonies latines à Constantinople’, REB 4 (1946), p. 107; R-­J.  Lilie, ‘Die lateinische Kirche in der Romania vor dem Vierten Kreuzzug’, BZ 82 (1989), pp. 203–4.

The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism  325 Hagia Sophia, and in 1142 the German King Conrad III requested that John provide a German Church for Germans living in Constantinople.84 Outside the cap­ ital there was a Venetian Church to St Andrew in Dyrrachium, and there are a number of Latin monasteries from Manuel’s reign that were probably founded under Alexios or John, notably Philippopolis, Adrianople, Corinth, and Sparta, while the later famous Latin hospital of St Sampson was likely functioning already.85 Though the very existence of these churches is indicative of relatively positive ecumenical relations, there is also direct evidence for John’s personal outreach in the form of a letter from the Abbot of Cluny, Peter the Venerable, to the emperor in the late 1130s, which is significantly contemporary with the theological debates in the east and west, and John’s own letters to the Pope. This letter requests the restitution of a Latin monastery at Kibotos (near Nikomedeia), likely the same one originally founded by Alexios, which was a daughter house of Charité-­sur-­ Loire, itself a daughter house of Cluny.86 Peter tells John that it was he [John] ‘who today glories in the Roman empire that in ancient days defended the church from barbarians’, and who now faced the Arabs and the Turks, defending all Christendom, particularly on behalf of the King of Jerusalem, the Prince of Antioch and all the ‘Gauls’ [pro universis denisque Gallis nostris].87 He asks that John should unite with Cluny to be an example to the kings of France, England, Spain, Germany, all emperors of Rome, and the kings of Hungary. This letter shows that Peter knew exactly what John’s current strategy was, and what he wanted from the Latin Church, and in response he is telling the emperor that if he wanted Cluny’s support then funding this monastery is what he had to do.

84 Pisans: Documenti sulle relazione delle città toscane coll’Oriente Cristiano, no. 34, p. 53; Lilie, ‘Lateinische Kirche in Romania’, p. 208. German Church: Otto of Freising, ‘Chronicon Ottonis episcopi Frisingensis’, pp. 168–9; Janin, Les Églises et les monastères, p. 575; Janin, ‘Les Sanctuaires des colonies latines’, p. 175; Riant, Exuviae sacrae constantinopolitanae I, p. 102. Manuel was asked about the site of this church during the first years of his reign so this request was followed up on and agreed to by John at least. 85  Dyrrachium: Tafel and Thomas, Urkunden I, pp. 43–55; Lilie, ‘Lateinische Kirche in Romania’, p. 203. Philippopolis is attested by Odo of Deuil, so was almost certainly in operation under John, along with that of Corinth attested in 1146. Less certain are Adrianople (1163) and Sparta (1168) and the hospice that also appears under Manuel. Philippopolis: Odo of Deuil, pp. 42–3. Corinth and Sparta: P. Schreiner, ‘Untersuchungen zu den Niederlassungen westlicher Kaufleute im byzantinischen Reich des 11. und 12. Jahrhunderts’, Byzantinische Forschungen 7 (1979), p. 179. Adrianople: Janin, Les Églises et les monastères, p. 578. Hospital: Janin, pp. 570, 578; T.  Miller, ‘The Sampson Hospital of Constantinople’, BZ 15 (1990), pp. 127–30; D. Stathakopoulos, ‘Discovering a Military Order of the Crusades: The Hospital of St. Sampson of Constantinople’, Viator 37 (2006), p. 257. 86  Peter the Venerable, The Letters of Peter the Venerable, ed. G. Constable (Cambridge, 1967), nos. 75, 76, pp. 208–10; J. Gay, ‘L’Abbaye de Cluny et Byzance au debut du XIIe siècle’, Echos d’Orient 30 (1931), pp. 84–90; Chalandon, Jean II Comnène, p. 162; Ciggaar, Western Travellers, p. 40. Gay dates the letter earlier, but only because he assumes it is contemporary with the letters of John to the Papacy, which as shown by Lilie definitely date to the time of John’s eastern expeditions. For this monastery at Kibotos, see: Shepard, ‘Odo Arpin’, pp. 11–28. 87  Gay, ‘Cluny et Byzance’, p. 86.

326  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 Though we have no details of any restoration work, there are a number of Byzantine influences on Benedictine monasticism at this time that suggest ­favourable contact at the very least, including sculptural motifs in Benedictine abbeys and the adoption of aspects of the eastern feast of the Transfiguration.88 Intriguingly, the Abbot of the Church of St Victor at Marseilles gave John a relic of St Victor as a gift, hinting at the possibility of a larger web of connections between the eastern and western churches in this period.89 This too suggests a feeling in both camps that an ecumenical council was nigh. Such a council would certainly involve a great deal of argument and politics in addition to theological and ecclesiological debate, but it was only a council that could even attempt to resolve the differences between Latin and Greek confessions. Interpreting the situ­ation in this period through the modern categories of Orthodox Catholic Christians and Roman Catholic Christians is unhelpful as it supposes that the split either had already occurred or was inevitable; Christians at the time certainly still believed in the unity of the church in both west and east, and whatever their disagreements, they were actively seeking to resolve them.90 In concluding this section, it is useful once again to consider a counterfactual scenario: had John, or his original heir the young Alexios, lived to provide stability to the empire for a few more years, then the drive towards this ecumenical council for which the lamp in the Pantokrator was shining may well have con­ tinued. This is not to say it would have gone any particular way, but from these theo­logic­al and canonical texts, in the context of John’s own diplomatic initiatives and the number of Latins already living in the empire, we can see the western and eastern negotiating positions taking shape. John’s dealings with the Armenians also imply that they too were being kept abreast of these developments. The letter of the Armenian katholikos to John implies they were keen to evidence their orthodoxy: if a council was called and a proposal advanced that would reintegrate the Armenians, then perhaps Rome would compromise on its claim to primacy in order for this ancient schism to be healed. The presence of Nubian Orthodox Christians in Constantinople, and possibly Ethiopian Christians too (whose theology related them to the Copts of Egypt) adds a further thread to this tapestry.91 88  Sculpture: B. Garridor, Les anciens Monastères benedictins en orient (Paris, 1912), p. 94; D. Rice, ‘Some Byzantine Motifs in Romanesque Sculpture’, Byzantion 39 (1969), p. 172; Liturgical Reform: C. Waddell, ‘The Reform of the Liturgy from a Renaissance Perspective’, Renaissance and Renewal in the Twelfth Century, ed. R. Benson and G. Constable (Cambridge, MA, 1982), p. 103; D. Geanakoplos, Byzantine East and Latin West: Two Worlds of Christendom in the Middle Ages and Renaissance (Oxford, 1966), p. 45, n. 70, and p. 48; R. Rios, ‘Benedictine contacts with the Eastern Church’, Eastern Churches Quarterly 4 (1941), p. 250; J. Leclercq, ‘Les Relations entre le monachisme oriental et occidental dans le haut moyen âge’, Le millénaire du Mont Athos, 963–1963 II, ed. J. Leclercq (Chevetogne, 1964), p. 53; Ciggaar, Western Travellers, p. 197. 89 Riant, Exuviae sacrae constantinopolitanae II, pp. 23–4. 90  Bucossi, ‘Filioque’, pp. 130, 133–4. 91  Ruffini posits that Nubia was a ‘Mediterranean society in Africa’ before the peace with Egypt ended in 1172/3, deeply integrated with its northern neighbours economically, religiously, culturally,

The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism  327 The addition of these Christians at any ecumenical council would further add to the ecumenical authority of Constantinople, in an ecclesiological equivalent of why ‘barbarians’ (such as the Varangian Guard) were always standing around the emperor at diplomatic receptions: they emphasized the ecumenical rule of the emperor.92 Significantly, David IV of Georgia appears to have had a similar focus on the church councils during his reign, calling two synods himself with the second being called expressly to debate with the Armenians.93 Though this may have been about David attempting to assume the same imperial authority as the emperors of the previous church councils, the likelihood of an actual council being called would have made such an image all the more powerful. As it turned out, this ecumenical council never occurred, as the theological disputes of Manuel’s reign caused yet more issues to arise that would have to be resolved before the prelates of both sides would be comfortable calling a council. This was in addition to the ever-­evolving diplomatic situation needing to be perfect for any settlement to be accepted by all sides. For all that, the evidence highlights that during John’s reign the possibility for a unified church of east and west was still very much alive, and that this was one more plan of Alexios that John sought to complete. and even administratively as a region that also used Byzantine styled offices in their government, either as a legacy of Roman Egypt or through more recent contact. G.  Ruffini, Medieval Nubia: A Social and Economic History (New York, 2012), esp. pp. 2, 17–21, 257–64. Eustathios of Thessalonike specifically mentioned μαυροηγούμενον (black abbeys) and μαυροχαλόγηρων (black monks): Eustathios of Thessalonike, Opuscula, p. 342, and in Robert de Clari’s account of the Fourth Crusade he expresses his wonder at a supposed Nubian ‘king’ staying in Constantinople near the church of the Anastasis: B. Rostkowska, ‘The Visit of a Nubian King to Constantinople in AD. 1203’, New Discoveries in Nubia: Proceedings of the Colloquium on Nubian Studies, The Hague, 1979, ed. P.  van Moorsel (Leiden, 1982), pp. 113–16; B. Hendrickx, ‘Un roi Africain à Constantinople en 1203’, Byzantina 13.2 (1985), 893–8, which was also the location of the ‘embolon [a colonnaded street] of the blacks’ mentioned by the future Archbishop of Novgorod in his visit to the city in 1200: B. de Khitrowo, Itinéraires Russes en Orient (Genève, 1889), p. 105; R.  Janin, ‘Études de topographie byzantine: Ἔμβολοι τοῦ Δομνίνου. Τὰ Μαυριανοῦ’, Échos d’Orient, 36.186 (1937), pp. 129–56. Equally, both Greek and Latin Europeans could and did go into Nubia in this period, with an example and a good bibliography to be found in: A. Łajtar and T. Płóciennik, ‘A Man from Provence on the Middle Nile: A Graffito in the Upper Church at Banganarti’, Nubian Voices: Studies in Christian Nubian Culture, ed. A. Łajtar and J. van der Vliet (Warsaw, 2011), pp. 95–119. Less visible is the potential for Ethiopian contact, primarily due to the fact that the Solomonic dynasty when they were ‘restored’ to the throne in the thirteenth century actively set out to discredit and obscure the deeds of the previous Zagwe dynasty, see: M. Mengistu, ‘Reconstructing Zagwe Civilization’, Cultural and Religious Studies 4 (2016), pp. 655–67; T. Negash, ‘The Zagwe Period Re-­interpreted: Post Aksumite Ethiopian Urban Culture’, Africa: Rivista Trimestrale di Studi e Documentazione 61 (2006), pp. 120–37. As with Nubia, however, before the routes north were blocked by renewed warfare with Egypt in the 1170s, it is distinctly possible for there to have been Ethiopians present in the empire in addition to Nubians. For Nubia, Ethiopia and the rest of Christian Europe in general in this period, see: A. Simmons, The (re)Introduction of Nubia and Ethiopia to Europe in the Crusading Era, c.1100–c.1400 (unpublished doctoral thesis, Lancaster University, 2019). 92  Smythe, ‘Why do barbarians stand around the emperor at diplomatic receptions?’, pp. 305–12. The Melkite patriarch of Alexandria could certainly have played a similar role, just as the Patriarch Sabbas may have done in 1117. See: Ciggaar, ‘An Egyptian Doctor at the Comnenian Court’, pp. 287–302. 93 A. Eastmond, Royal Imagery in Medieval Georgia (University Park, PA, 1998), pp. 62–7.

328  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Symphonia Novel 9 of Justinian’s Corpus iuris civilis outlines the ideal relationship between church and government: God’s greatest blessing to humans, granted by divine kindness, are the priesthood and the empire [sacerdotium et imperium]. Of them, the former serves divine matters and the latter is set over human affairs and cares for them, while both proceed from one and the same source and both adorn human life. Nothing therefore is a greater concern to emperors than the clergy’s reputation, who for their part pray to God for them.94

This ideal of symphonia between the church and the emperor was even the subject of a conversation between Patriarch Kirill of Moscow and President Dmitry Medvedev in 2009, attesting to its longevity.95 A quasi-­sacerdotal but distinctly non-­priestly role for the emperor in the church has been posited in response to the ‘caesaropapist’ thesis, which in its ambiguity allowed symphonia with the patriarch.96 It has been claimed that John reversed the nature of the alliance between the church and the emperor that had been established under Alexios by allowing his two patriarchs to lead the church without interference.97 For the later canonical commentaries, Trullo 69, which allowed an emperor to enter the sanctuary in order to prevent gifts due to long-­standing tradition, would be used by Zonaras and Balsamon to critique or emphasize the emperor’s relationship with the church.98 Aristenos on the other hand briefly notes that of course the emperor can go to the sanctuary if he is presenting gifts, thereby adopting both a neutral position and emphasizing that the emperor’s receipt of special privileges due to his service to the church is exactly the intended relationship.99 We find this relationship visualized in both the famous mosaic in Hagia Sophia of John and his wife making an unknown grant to the Theotokos and child, and two of Prodromos’ poems.100 From Prodromos’ poem on the capture of Gangra, after the surrender John processes through the city to the Cathedral with the bishop for a triumphal lit­ urgy.101 Though perhaps referring to his return to Constantinople, the emperor is then poetically equated to a husbandman who has worked long in the fields, 94  Casiday, ‘Priesthood’, p. 71. 95  For the concept of symphonia, see: F. Cross and E. Livingstone (eds.), The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church (2nd ed., Oxford, 1985), p. 771. 96  Majeska, ‘The Emperor in His Church’, pp. 7–11; Woodfin, The Embodied Icon, pp. 200–1. 97 Ewing, Critiques of Monasticism, p. 165. 98  RP II, pp. 466–7; Magdalino, Empire of Manuel, pp. 294–5. 99  Aristenos, ‘Synopsis canonum’, p. 190. 100  See: Lau, ‘John II Komnenos’, https://doi.org/10.3390/encyclopedia2020046. 101  Prodromos, VIII, lines 249–3.

The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism  329

Figure 60 (A)  John and Piroska-­Eirene mosaic of Hagia Sophia, depicting the Virgin and Child flanked by the imperial couple, making an unknown grant in the form of the bag carried by John and the charter carried by Piroska-­Eirene.

caring for the land, until winter comes and his wife thanks him by giving him fine food and wine to foster the strength in his heart.102 This image reveals the picture John’s regime wished to portray in his ecclesiastical relationship: one where the church supported him while he campaigned on behalf of the empire, which was one and the same family with the church. We see a variation on the relationship presented in Prodromos’ description of the triumph for the first capture of Kastamon in 1133. Unlike previous emperors who finished triumphs in the Hippodrome, John’s triumph ended in Hagia Sophia, where he placed the treasures around the altar while he gave thanks to God ‘before all the people’ and then he carried a candle alongside the Patriarch to bless the people, as was usually the prerogative of a bishop.103 But although John is said to have gone to the altar and blessed the people with a candle like a bishop, there is no specific mention of him entering the sanctuary, and even if he did so it would only have been to present his treasures to the church. In this he was very much following Old Testament precedent, though a different one to that evoked by advocates of the ‘caesaropapist’ model. The Old Testament precedent for this model of a wholly dominant, unified king and priest figure was Melchizedek, who gave bread and wine to Abraham in Genesis 14, in addition to being named as king and high priest in Psalm 110. Hebrews 7 established that Jesus is a priest in the order of Melchizedek, while the 102  Prodromos, VIII, lines 264–73. 103  NC, p. 19; tr. p. 12; Prodromos, VI, lines 211–20. Balsamon notes the emperor’s right to bless the people with candles like a bishop in his commentary on canon 69 above.

330  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143

Figure 61 (L)  Dedication Image in Tetraevangelion, Vat. Urb. gr. 2, showing John and his son Alexios crowned by Christ, with their full titles listed. See also: R. Cormack, Writing in Gold: Byzantine Society and its Icons (London, 1985), p. 196.

well-­ known Kings David and Solomon have been seen as priest-­ kings.104 However, the exact scriptural quotations on these latter two complicate the picture somewhat. Though 1 Kings 6–8 tells us that when Solomon consecrated the temple he preached to the people, filled it with votive offerings and offered sacrifice—­all of which can be considered priestly actions—­the ‘high priest and the Levites’ were present, even if High Priest Zadok is not mentioned by name. Yet, Solomon did not enter the sanctuary, and neither does John in both of Prodromos’ poems above. The line between king and priest was still very much in place, and the Old Testament model is very specific that ancient Israelite kings were punished for acting as priests. YHWH gives King Azariah leprosy for sacrificing ‘on the high places’ in 2 Kings 15, and again in 2 Chronicles 26 he is given the disease for offering incense in the Temple as a priest.105 With twelfth-­century 104 Dagron, Emperor and Priest, p. 333. 105  With thanks to John Ritzema for discussion about Old Testament precedents. On the idea of continuum between the Old Testament and the twelfth century, see: Lau, ‘Rewriting History at the Court of the Komnenoi’, pp. 124–30.

The Church under John: Philanthropy and Ecumenism  331 experts very much aware of these precedents in their writings (with even the secu­lar Prodromos structuring poem XVII around praises to John from many Old Testament prophets), we can explain John’s restrained ecclesiastical relationship as one that entailed being careful not to do anything that could be perceived as usurping ecclesiastical rights. He only appears at the altar in the context of giving great gifts to the church, as the partner of the bishop or patriarch in both cases. Simply from reading the Pantokrator typikon, we cannot doubt John’s personal piety, and the accounts of other sources, such as his tearful prayers to the icon of the Theotokos while in battle against the nomads, only strengthen this appraisal. Rather than John’s relationship with the church being that of an emperor simply uninterested, or too busy with campaigning, we should instead see an emperor restraining himself from exercising the powers he could bring to bear, and who was actively promoting himself as the ideal partner to the church. Rather than a ‘caesaropapist’ Melchizedek, we find John presented in the mode of a Biblical king working hard on behalf of the church, giving it what it needed in order that it could carry out its holy functions, in accordance with the model set down by Justinian. John was a philanthropist in its purest sense through the Pantokrator, but he then went further in sponsoring legal handbooks that led to all justice being tempered by mercy. It is significant that in one of the other few depictions of John, from the dedication image of a contemporary gospel book, we see John and his son Alexios crowned by Christ, but with Christ flanked by personifications of Mercy and Justice (Fig. 61).106 John’s relationship with the church and his legal initiatives cemented his reputation as a ‘good’ ruler to contemporaries, a reputation that John put to work in order to start building momentum towards an ecumenical council. Had John lived to return to Constantinople and hold this council, the schism that still divides Roman Catholics from the Orthodox Catholics might have been healed before it truly erupted, and the disasters of the next centuries averted. Even if not, his reputation as an emperor who called an ecumenical council would have seen him known far more widely than he was, and not overshadowed by the reputations of his father and son.

106  See: Lau, ‘John II Komnenos’, https://doi.org/10.3390/encyclopedia2020046.

 

Conclusion New Rome Rebuilt?

At least from Edward Gibbon to Niketas Choniates, historians have linked John’s character with his rule. Choniates’ eulogy on John summarizes his portrayal in words that have had an enduring influence on John’s treatment by historians: He had governed the empire most excellently, and his life was well pleasing to God; in moral character he was neither dissolute nor incontinent; by way of gifts and expenditures he pursued magnificence, as is evidenced by his frequent distributions of gold coins to the City’s inhabitants and the many beautiful and large churches he built from their foundations. More than all others, he was a lover of glory, and, bequeathing to posterity a most illustrious name, he was highly honoured . . . /he has been deemed praiseworthy by all, even to our own times, the crowning glory, so to speak, of the Komnenian dynasty to sit on the Roman throne.1

In Choniates’ History, John appears as a near paragon of virtues from whom all subsequent emperors declined, and New Rome with them. This re-­examination of John’s life and rule is intended to test the fairness of the judgements of Choniates and Gibbon, though future studies will certainly be required to compare John’s achievements and failures with predecessors and successors. What was John’s plan for his empire? And to what extent did his personal character aid or limit those plans? Many of John’s policies were initiated by his father Alexios, as these first two Komnenoi struggled to re-­establish security for ancient and ailing New Rome. In the west, John restored imperial hegemony over the Balkans from the south Dalmatian coast across to the middle Danube, and along that great river to the Black Sea. He saw off Hungarian and Serb challenges for a generation, and he laid the foundations for further Balkan expansion under Manuel. John not only defeated a major nomadic invasion but induced many of those invaders into settling peacefully and serving in his army. To the east, John’s campaigning in Anatolia was initially driven by Isaac’s betrayal as well as a policy of targeting any

1  NC, pp. 46–7; tr. p. 27; Stouraitis, ‘Narratives of John II’s Wars’, pp. 25–6.

Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143. Maximilian C. G. Lau, Oxford University Press. © Maximilian C. G. Lau 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198888673.003.0013

Conclusion  333 emerging Turkish hegemon. John took advantage of Turkish disunity to impose secure settlements on other frontiers, such that he could return to Anatolia stronger each time: with every campaign he attempted to gather more peoples under his banner, either directly, or as clients, and made alliances and treaties with more distant polities. This allowed John to begin to encircle the central Anatolian plateau, using offensive campaigns and fortresses to put increasing pressure on any who resisted his authority. By doing so, John aimed to recreate or even surpass the empire of the eleventh century. He consolidated his success in southwestern Anatolia and resettlement of nomads in the Balkans by gaining the allegiance of Turkish and Serb clients. The loss of Mas’ud of Ikonion was then a major setback, necessitating a shift to a policy of slow conquest in central Anatolia. During his last years, he concentrated on extending his authority over Cilicia, Pontus, and Syria, while also pushing on towards Ikonion and pursuing Byzantine interests in southern Italy. Many of Manuel’s campaigns can therefore be seen as a direct continuation of John’s. Conquests were secured by a vast network of fortresses across imperial borderlands. More are now known thanks to recent archaeological work, and more still will likely be found in future. These fortresses were ideologically important, demonstrating to all that the empire was once more in control and anchored into the landscape. They also provided logistical support for future campaigns of conquest. John’s use of the fleet by both river and sea to ensure logistical superiority should also be accepted as one of the most significant factors in his success, such that the claims of court rhetors that the rivers themselves served John are not idle praise. From these rhetorical sources, we find hints as to the nature of John’s Grand Strategy. Prodromos claims that the ‘Regeneration of the Romans’ was nigh, Basilakes sings of the ‘days of vengeance . . . the days of repayment’, and in Italikos’ letter to Axouch he notes that in this golden age the Romans are at last recovering.2 John is also praised in Dalmatian exultets, while Matthew of Edessa conceives of Armenian Cilicia as a potential part of a future reunited Roman Empire, and William of Tyre does not dispute the legitimacy of John’s claims to Antioch.3 The establishment of client relationships with Serbs, Turks and nomadic peoples, together with a continuing interest in southern Italy, testifies to a renewed policy of reclaiming these lost lands. Many rhetors also draw on parallels with the Deuteronomistic books of the Old Testament: these evoke a continuum between the twelfth century and the righteous remnant of the former united kingdom of Israel in the Old Testament, that had split due to the civil wars following Solomon’s

2 ‘Ῥωμαίων ἀναγέννησις’, Prodromos, XVI, line 8; ‘ἥκασιν αἱ ἡμέραι τῆς ἐκδικήσεως, ἥκασιν αἱ ἡμέραι τῆς ἀνταποδόσεως’, Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 69; ‘ἐπὶ τῶν ὑμετέρων χρυσῶν ἡμερῶν τὰ τῶν Ῥωμαίων ἀνορθωθῆναι’, Italikos 39, p. 229. 3  Lau, ‘Dream Come True?’, pp. 160–79.

334  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 death, and which was prophesied one day to reunite the Davidic kingdom.4 Such parallels also occurred to Matthew of Edessa.5 John was pursuing a form of ideological ‘reconquista’, whereby former Roman territories should be reclaimed; but, as part of this, did he pick up ‘the mantle of the crusader’?6 The latter label is a controversial one in scholarship, as it intersects with broader debates regarding Byzantine concepts of holy war. In its favour, John is described by Basilakes as a ‘cross-­bearer’, ‘σταυροφόρος’, after capturing the cross at Shayzar, and he physically carries a cross during his Kastamon triumph.7 John is described many times as fighting the infidel on behalf of his faith and to deliver Christians from bondage. He wished to go on pilgrimage to Jerusalem himself, as is described in detail by Italikos after John’s death: Italikos notes in a piece addressed to the new emperor Manuel in 1143 that John had ‘longed for the country of the saviour’, and he namechecks Bethlehem, Nazareth, Capernaum, Bethany, the mount of the Transfiguration, and of course the Holy Sepulchre.8 Further, he notes that Jerusalem and Golgotha had honours reserved for him, and that the ships were prepared for him to go, though he never went. Whether Italikos’ words evidence concrete plans, or are merely wishful thinking, they convey how John becoming a crusader would have allowed him to claim greater legitimate suzerainty over the Latins of the east.9 Against this contention, the Roman emperor had always had a traditional claim to the headship of Christendom, and therefore John’s actions against enemies of the faith, or planned pilgrimages, were as much about reclaiming this position as about fighting infidels specifically.10 It has also been mooted that as Greek authors were certainly aware of western crusader ideology, emperors at least used it when it was pol­it­ic­al­ly convenient for them to do so.11 When it comes to John in particular, what should be added to this debate is that the whole ideological concept of a ‘crusade’ was in the process of being formed during his reign. The modern English, French and German word is based

4  Lau, ‘Rewriting History at the Court of the Komnenoi’, pp. 121–47. 5  Lau, ‘Dream Come True?’, pp. 160–79. 6 Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos, p. 13, 16, 23–4 and 28; Papageorgiou, ‘Political Ideology’, pp. 40, 43–8. 7  Ibid., esp. ‘Political Ideology’, pp. 44–5, n. 28 for sources of John using the cross as a symbol, ­citing JK, 20, cf. Chapter Eight. On σταυροφόρος, see: A. Kolia-­Dermitzaki, ‘Die Kreuzfahrer und die Kreuzzüge im Sprachgebrauch der Byzantiner’, JÖB 41 (1991), pp. 171–84. 8  Italikos 44, pp. 290. 9  Papageorgiou, ‘Political Ideology’, pp. 44–8, esp. n. 30; A. Kolia-­Dermitzaki, Ο βυζαντινός ιερός πόλεμος’ (Athens, 1991), pp. 332–7; L. Oeconomos, La vie religieuse dans l’Empire byzantin au temps des Comnènes et des Anges (Paris, 1918), p. 13. 10  I. Stouraitis, ‘Jihād and Crusade’, pp. 11–63; Stouraitis, ‘ “Just War” and “Holy War” in the Middle Ages. Rethinking Theory through the Byzantine Case-­Study’, JÖB 62 (2013), pp. 227–64; Stouraitis, ‘Narratives of John II Komnenos’ Wars’, esp. pp. 33–4. 11 A.  Kolia-­Dermitzaki, ‘Byzantium and the Crusades in the Komnenian Era: Perception and Reality’, Byzantium and the West: Perception and Reality (11th–15th c.), ed. N.  Chryssis, A.  Kolia-­ Dermitzaki and A. Papageorgiou (London, 2019), pp. 59–83, esp. pp. 73–4.

Conclusion  335 on the Latin crucesignatus that only came into general use after the Third Crusade at the very end of the twelfth century; ceremonies, such as formally vowing to take the cross, and wearing it on the shoulder, only came in the thirteenth century, with terms such as ‘pilgrim’ being used before that.12 Thus, John’s ideological use of the cross in the 1130s and 1140s prefigures its use by western ‘crusaders’ some forty years later. John sought to portray himself as the legitimate overlord of all the Christians of the east, and he did so by defending them against their en­emies. If this is the definition of a crusader, then John surely was one. On the other hand, if a crusader was a western Christian who went to fight the infidel for the Pope’s promise of the remission of their sins, then John surely was not. There is no evidence that his campaigns were in any way penitential in character, and nor is it ever mentioned that John wanted to appear as a westerner, though he appears to have intended to visit the Holy Land as a pilgrim. Rather than being a semantic debate for historians, the question of whether John was a crusader or not should be seen as one that was under debate at the time, as the meaning of the term took shape. The effect of the shock-­reclamation of Jerusalem by western Christians in 1099 after centuries of Islamic rule is seemingly downplayed in Byzantine sources, but as John arrived in the Levant it should not be surprising that he sent his cousin to explore the region, and that he himself intended to travel there. As heads of the Christian oikoumene, the Roman em­perors had always claimed to be protectors of the holy places, and so with Jerusalem in Christian hands once more these claims took on new life.13 The possible forms the future could have taken are plain to the authors of the later Kleinchroniken, as they claim John had intended to send his heir Alexios to be crowned in Rome, while Andronikos would be sent to Jerusalem and his remaining two sons to other, unspecified, parts of the world.14 Whether fanciful nostalgia or not, these chronicles and Italikos’ report of John’s intentions exemplify the possibilities still open to John: recognition of his heir’s imperial status by the spiritual head of the west, if not an actual reintegration of old Rome with the empire in some way, together with the holy city of Jerusalem too. There was also the possibility of holding an ecumenical council, which would have certainly enhanced his prestige, and might have helped John gain recognition of his imperial status by a

12 M.  Markowski, ‘Crucesignatus: Its Origins and Early Usage’, Journal of Medieval History 10 (1984), pp. 157–65; see also recent analyses such as: T. Asbridge, The Crusades: The War for the Holy Land (New York, 2010), p. 40; C. Tyerman, The World of the Crusades (New Haven, 2019), pp. 5, 77. For an analysis using the tools of international relations on the crusades and their causes, see: A.  Latham, Theorizing Medieval Geopolitics: War and World Order in the Age of the Crusades (London, 2012). 13  Cf. A. Kaldellis, ‘Did the Byzantine Empire Have “Ecumenical” or “Universal” Aspirations?’, Ancient States and Infrastructural Power, ed. C.  Ando and S.  Richardson (Philadelphia, 2017), pp. 272–300, esp. 282–91. 14  KC, Chronik 6.2, pp. 57–8.

336  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 reunited universal church. The capture of Jerusalem after so many centuries made many things appear possible, not least the restoration of New Rome. The early death of John and his heir dashed such hopes. The disruptions associated with Manuel’s sudden succession in Cilicia, and the passage of the Second Crusade caused many of his achievements to begin to unwind. For all John’s labours, scholars have therefore judged that many of these hard-­won military and diplomatic gains were ephemeral: Manuel had to fight many of the same battles. The empire was not to receive many more chances of success as the fateful year 1204 approached.15 John’s reign thus appears as one where a lot of effort was expended for little gain. However, John’s fortress building was an achievement of real permanence in Anatolia, even if further gains were lost, while the emperor should certainly be credited with preserving and strengthening what he had inherited.16 John’s reign thus appears to exemplify the ‘Red Queen Effect’, whereby, just as the character in Through the Looking Glass, John had to run very fast just to stay still. It was no mean achievement to preserve and strengthen what he had inherited. Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that John made some significant mistakes, usually as a consequence of overambition, and more rarely due to failures in his personal relations. Isaac’s betrayal, and later that of Isaac’s son, are key examples of the latter as they directly jeopardized his Anatolian conquests. As to the former, the pursuit of so many clients simultaneously in the mid-­1120s, while war with Venice remained unresolved, caused a crisis of overextension. Gabras’ revolt was left unchallenged, a messy peace with Venice became necessary, and Mas’ud was left to his own devices as John prioritized ending the Serb insurrection and defeating the Hungarians. John’s misjudgement at Antioch cost him further gains in Syria, and the northern Latins of the east as clients in practice as well as name. Given this, Choniates’ judgement that John’s strength was the empire’s strength should perhaps not be wholly rejected. In assessing John’s character, we should remain aware that most of our evidence comes from literary portrayals destined for public consumption. These do not necessarily bring us close to the real person. However, there is a consistency in these descriptions across many authors, which encourages confidence, and the picture they present finds corroboration both in historical evidence, and in the words of John himself. John’s piety to God and deep love for his wife are the two aspects of his character that emerge strongest from the Pantokrator typikon, while his commitment to family relations and his faith come through across the whole of our source material.

15  Examples include: Lilie, ‘Byzantine and Turkish States’, pp. 37–50; DOC, p. 246; Papageorgiou, ‘Political Ideology’, pp. 37–52 and Beihammer, ‘Emergence of Muslim-­Turkish Anatolia’, esp. pp. 377 and 379; Magdalino, ‘Empire of the Komnenoi’, p. 633; Sullivan, ‘Byzantine Fronts and Strategies’, p. 287. 16 Papageorgiou, John II Komnenos, p. 30; Deluigi, Winter in the Land of Rûm, p. 39.

Conclusion  337 Nikephoros Bryennios’ refusal to be involved in a plot against his brother-­in-­law is to the credit of both men, who had surely fought alongside each other and met at court often before 1118. John was evidently a family man, to judge by the good relations he had with his eight children, his brother Andronikos, and of course his beloved wife, and by the efforts he put into reconciling with his sister, mother, and brother Isaac. The Komnenoi have often been subjected to the Anna Karenina principle, which derives from the opening lines of Tolstoy’s titular novel: ‘All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way’; any family flaw has been brought into the spotlight and exhibited as evidence for why the Komnenian project was wracked by internal disputes.17 Regardless of titles or privileges handed out, family conflicts would still occur, perhaps not helped by John’s occasional outbursts of rage, if Kinnamos’ account is to be believed; but, we can see that John did exhibit an unusually high tendency to forgive on several occasions to bring the family back together, as in the cases of his brother Isaac and sister Anna. John’s personal commitment to family reconciliation goes some way to explaining how he gained the name ‘Kaloioannes’: ‘Good-­John’. John was undoubtedly supported by many outside his family as well, with his childhood friend and companion-­in-­arms Axouch figuring strongly both in court and historical texts. Though we have little further information on whether John had other stalwart friends, we do find corroboration for Choniates’ high opinion in non-­Greek sources. This should not be dismissed as an ‘Ioannes imaginaire’. William of Tyre’s description of him as a man of ‘lofty character, famous for prowess in war . . . /generous and pious, kind and merciful’ may perhaps be expected from a chronicler holding up exemplars for crusaders to follow; but the description of John as the ‘merciful prince’ by Ibn al-­Athir, even if used ironically as he praises Zengi as the true fount of mercy, shows that the emperor’s reputation reached his enemies too.18 By the following generation, ‘Kaloioannes’, is used by Otto of Freising, in the Chronicle of the so-­called Priest of Diokleia, the Chronicle of Naples, and ‘Kalyani’ is even present in Ibn al-­Adim’s text.19 Within John’s lifetime, the Abbot of the Church of St Victor at Marseilles addressed ‘Caloioannes’ when he gave the emperor a relic of the eponymous saint as a gift.20 In deed as well as in name, we find further anecdotal evidence for his personality, such as John listening to the complaints of his soldiers in 1138–9, his frequent recourse to negotiation even when he possessed overwhelming military superiority, his ecumenical ambitions and philanthropy. The tone of his legal novels is such that Choniates’ account of his moratorium on capital punishment should be taken seriously. 17 L. Tolstoy, Anna Karenina (London, 2006), p. 1. Cf. Frankopan, ‘Kinship’, pp. 1–27. 18  William of Tyre, 15.23, p. 706; Ibn al-­Athir, p. 342. 19  ‘Chronicon Ottonis episcopi Frisingensis’, p. 259; The Priest of Diokleia: XLV, pp. 75–6; Regii neapolitani archive VI (1858), nos. 596 and 600; Ibn al-­Adim, p. 85. 20 Riant, Exuviae sacrae constantinopolitanae II, pp. 23–4.

338  Emperor John II Komnenos: Rebuilding New Rome 1118–1143 John was, of course, multifaceted in his epithets too: he was also called ‘Black-­John’ by William of Tyre, Anna Komnene, and Ptochoprodromos, and is referred to as ‘Skythian-­Bane’ by Michael the Syrian and the court rhetors. The former appears either as a descriptor with no especial malice in all cases save, perhaps, the Alexiad, or it may have been a nom de guerre, as with Edward the Black Prince of England (1330–76). John’s competency as a commander and a military organizer shines through in all sources too, in addition to his personal heroism as he fought on the front line from Berroia in 1122 to Shayzar in 1138. His exact ambitions for the arts of peace, and especially legal and ecclesiastical reform, are, however, more obscure casualties of his early death as plans remained incomplete. Still, the commissioning of Aristenos’ commentary on canon law, as part of a project that involved texts written on civil law (the Ecloga Basilicorum), and the compilation of Alexios’ fiscal reforms in the Palaia kai Nea Logarike, reveal a man who concerned himself with the complex business of civil administration too. Rather than ignoring the church, we also find John attempting to rule in symphonia with the ecclesiastical establishment, influencing rather than commanding the church while it moved towards a planned ecumenical council, which perhaps John intended to host after his return from the east in 1143. Across all of these developments, we see an element of philanthropy: a concern to be a ‘good’ ruler, though this was surely tied in with his personal ambition to be remembered as a great and glorious emperor. Here in particular, Choniates’ description appears not completely off the mark, with John’s ‘love of glory’ being a markedly mixed blessing. An example of John’s growing ambitions can be clearly seen in the iconography of his coinage.21 Beginning with his gold coinage, his first issue (1118–22) displayed an enthroned Christ on the obverse, with John in a ceremonial loros costume on the reverse holding a patriarchal cross with the Virgin Mary. The hand of God also hovers above his head, and John holds in his other head the anexikakia (a silk covered scroll filled with dust to symbolize humility).22 These coins emphasize his divinely ordained succession and his co-­rule with the Theotokos, along with his personal humility, but his next two issues display a progression from this humble piety. His second issue (1122–37) drops both the hand of God and the patriarchal cross in favour of John holding the military labarum flag, though still coupled with the anexikakia, while his third (1137–43) shows him being crowned directly by the Virgin, and this time John holds a globus cruciger, symbol of worldly dominion under God.23 John’s earlier humility was first militarized and later (as he set out on his eastern expedition) replaced with an emphasis on the universal rule assigned him by the Virgin. For John’s lower denomination coins, we see signs of 21  On imperial costume and its iconography on coins in general, see: DOC, pp. 143–76. On John specifically, see: Lau, ‘John II Komnenos’, https://doi.org/10.3390/encyclopedia2020046. 22  DOC, pp. 169, 255–6, 259–60. 23  DOC, pp. 256–9, 260–1.

Conclusion  339 his ambition even earlier on. On John’s much produced electrum and billon coins (silver/gold alloy with c.75 per cent silver and 6–10 per cent silver to copper alloy, respectively), we find John holding a patriarchal cross with the martial saints George or Demetrios on the obverse, with the saint dressed in armour and with a drawn sword in his left hand, while in the first issue of another type John stands alone in a military tunic and cloak rather than the loros, holding both a labarum and a globus cruciger, while the obverse shows the Virgin and child.24 Though John’s eldest son Alexios was never to rule, a seal of his found in the Crimea displays the Resurrection and Descent into Hell as a symbol of imperial restoration, and the liberation of people from tyranny.25 This second Alexios would have continued the work of his grandfather and father, and it is only because John and his heir died before their time that John’s achievements appear ephemeral, and his ambitions unrealistic. John’s ambition caused him to make mistakes, but this ambition also kept alive the idea of a Roman empire that had the legitimacy and capacity potentially to reclaim hegemony over the east, and to be the preeminent power in the Christian world. Manuel’s invasions of Italy, Egypt, and central Anatolia, unthinkable in previous years, very nearly succeeded, being built on John’s achievements. Even with the disaster of 1204, that formerly most anti-­Komnenos city of Trebizond became the seat of a new Komnenos dynasty until 1461. John’s legacy continued as Nicaea endured and then expanded in Anatolia, and it is striking that one of its first emperors, John III Vatatzes, minted gold coinage that directly copied the icon­og­raphy and epigraphy of John II.26 John failed to rebuild New Rome as it had been in the eleventh century, but he laid foundations that successors could build on. In that at least he earned his title of ‘ἀρχιγεωμέτρης’ given him by Basilakes: the Arch-­Surveyor, who used his sword rather than a pen to draw the most amazing plan, ‘θαυμαστῷ διαγρμματι’, to rebuild New Rome.27

24  Ibid., pp. 261–74. The issues from the mint at Thessalonike have St Demetrios, the patron saint of the city, while those from Constantinople have St George. 25  Chkhaidze, Kashtanov, and Vinogradov, ‘Mysterious Seal of Alexios Komnenos’, esp. p. 12. 26  DOC, pp. 475–7; Papadopoulou, ‘Coinage, Numismatic Circulation and Monetary Policy’, p. 183. 27 Basilakes, Or. 1, p. 54.

Bibliography Primary Sources Abul-Feda, ‘Chronique’, RHC Historiens orientaux, vol. 1 (Paris, 1872), pp. 1–165 A Collection of Dated Byzantine Lead Seals, ed. N. Oikonomides (Washington, DC, 1986) Acta Sanctorum Jun VII, ed. G. Henschenius et al. (3rd ed., Paris, 1867) Actes de Lavra. Première partie: Des origines à 1204, Archives de l’Athos V, ed. and tr. P. Lemerle, A. Guillou, N. Svoronos (Paris, 1970) Albert of Aachen, Historia Ierosolimitana History of the Journey to Jerusalem, ed. S. Edgington (Oxford, 2007) al-Idrisi, Géographie d’Édrisi, tr. P. A. Jaubert (Paris, 1840) Alexander of Telese, Alexandri Telesini Abbatis Ystoria Rogerii Regis Sicilie Calabrie Atque Apulie, ed. L. de Nava, comm. D. Clementi (Rome, 1991) ‘Annales Erphesfurdenses’, MGH (S) rerum Germanicarum VI, ed. H.  Grundmann (Munich, 1969), pp. 536–41 ‘Annales Venetici Breves’, ed. H. Simonfeld, MGH XIV (Hannover, 1883) Annali genovesi di Caffaro e de’ suoi continuatori, dal MXCIX al MCCXCII, FSI Vol I, ed. L. Belgrano and C. I. di Sant’Angelo (Rome, 1890) Annalista Saxo, Die Reichschronik des Annalista Saxo, ed. K. Nass (Hannover, 2006) Anonymi Auctoris Chonicon ad A.C. 1234 Pertinens, vol. II, ed. I. Chabot (Leuven, 1974). First translated into English in: A.  Tritton and H.  Gibb (ed. and tr.), ‘The First and Second Crusades from an Anonymous Syriac Chronicle’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland 1 (1933), pp. 69–101 and 2 (1933), pp. 273–305. Also see: Hilkins, Anonymous Syriac Chronicle of 1234, for further translations Anselm of Havelberg, Anticimenon, ed. and comm. H. J. Sieben (Münster, 2010); English tr.: A. Criste and C. Neel, Anticimenon: On the Unity of the Faith and the Controversies with the Greeks (Collegeville, MN, 2010) Aristenos, Alexios: ——— ‘Alexii Aristeni Nomophylacis’, PG 133 (Paris, 1864), pp. 63–112 ——— Kommentar zur ‘Synopsis canonum’, ed. E. Papagianni, S. Troianos, L. Burgmann, and K. Maksimovič (Berlin, 2019) Attaleiates, Michael, Historia, ed. I Bekker (Bonn, 1856); New ed. and Spanish tr.: Miguel Ataliates: Historia, ed. and tr. I. Pérez Martín (Madrid, 2002); English tr. A. Kaldellis and D. Krallis, Michael Attaleiates: The History (Cambridge, MA, 2012) Basilakes, Nikephoros, Nicephori Basilacae Orationes et Epistolae, ed. A.  Garzya (Leipzig, 1984) Benjamin of Tudela, The Itinerary of Benjamin of Tudela: Critical Text, Translation and Commentary, M. N. Adler (London, 1907) Bryennios, Nikephoros, Nicéphore Bryennios Histoire, ed. and tr. P. Gautier (Brussels, 1975) Cartulaire générale de Paris, ed. R. de Lasteyrie (Paris, 1887) Catalogue of Byzantine seals at Dumbarton Oaks and in the Fogg Museum of Art, ed. J. Nesbitt and N. Oikonomides, 7 vols (Washington, DC, 2001–20) Catalogus fontium historiae Hungaricae, ed. F. A. Gombos, 4 vols (Budapest, 1937–43)

342 Bibliography Choniates, Michael, Μιχαὴλ Ἀκομινάτου τοῦ Χωνιάτου τὰ σωζόμενα, 2 vols, ed. S. Lambros (Athens, 1879–80, repr. Groningen, 1968) Choniates, Niketas, Nicetae Choniatae Historia, ed. J.-L. van Dieten (Berlin, 1975); English tr: H. Magoulias, O City of Byzantium, Annals of Niketas Choniates (Detroit, 1984) ‘Chronica Monasterii Casinensis’, ed. H. Hoffmann, MGH (S) 34 (Hannover, 1980) ‘Chronicon Ottonis episcopi Frisingensis’, MGH (S) 20, ed. G.  Waitz (Hannover, 1912), pp. 83–301 ‘Chronicon Pictum’, SRH I, ed. I. Szentpétery (Budapest, 1938), pp. 419–47 Codex diplomaticus regni Croatiae, Dalmatiae et Slavoniae, vol. II, ed. T.  Smičiklas (Zagreb, 1904) Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos: De Caerimoniis aulae Byzantinae, 2 vols, ed. J. Reiske (Bonn, 1829–30); partial ed. and French tr.: Le livre des Cérémonies, ed. and tr. A. Vogt (Paris, 1967); new ed. and French tr.: G. Dagron, B. Flusin et al., Le livre des cérémonies, 6 vols (Paris, 2020) Corpus of Byzantine seals from Bulgaria, 2 vols, ed. I. Jordanov (Sofia, 2003 and 2006) Dandolo, Andrea, ‘Chronicon Venetum. Andreae Danduli ducis Venetiarum chronica per extensum descriptum aa, 46–1280’, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores XII:I, ed. E. Pastorello (Bologna, 1938) Dânişmend-nâme, 4 vols, ed. N. Demir (Cambridge, MA, 2002) Catalogue of Byzantine seals at Dumbarton Oaks and in the Fogg Museum of Art, ed. J. Nesbitt and N. Oikonomides, 7 vols (Washington, DC, 2001–20) Catalogue of Byzantine Coins in the Dumbarton Oaks Collection and in the Whittemore Collection. Vol. IV: Alexius I to Michael VIII 1081–1261, ed. M.  Hendy (Washington, DC, 1999) Documenti del commercio veneziano nei secoli XI–XII, vol. I, ed. R. Morozzo della Rocca and A. Lombardo (Rome, 1940) Documenti sulle relazione delle città Toscane coll’Oriente Cristiano e coi Turchi fino all’anno MDXXXI, ed. G. Müller (Florence, 1879) Documents de sigillographie byzantine: la Collection C. Orghidan, ed. P. Laurent (Paris, 1952) Doxapatres, Neilos, ‘Τάξις τῶν πατριαρχικῶν θρόνων 3’, Hieroclis Synecdemus et Notitiae Graecae episcopatuum; accedunt Nili Doxapatri Notitia patriarchatuum et locorum nomina immutata, ed. G. Parthey (2nd ed., Amsterdam, 1967), pp. 265–308 Ecloga Basilicorum, ed. L. Burgmann (Frankfurt-am-Main, 1988) Eustathios of Thessalonike: ——— ‘Allocutio ad imperatorum Manuelem Comnenum, cum esset Myorum’, PG 135 (Paris, 1864), pp. 933–72 ——— Opuscula, ed. T. Tafel (Frankfurt-am-Main, 1832, repr. Amsterdam, 1964) ——— Eustathii Thessalonicensis: Opera minora, ed. P. Wirth, CFHB 32 (Berlin, 2000) Evergetis Typikon, ‘Le Typikon de la Théotokos Évergétis’, ed. and tr. P. Gautier, REB 40 (1982), pp. 5–110 Falco of Benevento, Falcone di Benevento, Chronicon Beneventanum, ed. E.  D’Angelo (Florence, 1996) Flateyjarbok, vol. II, ed. S. Nordal (Akraness, 1944) Fornmanna sögur, eptir gömlum handritum útgefnar að tilhlutun hius Norræna fornfræða fèlags, vols V and VI, ed. F. P. Hartv (Kaupmannahøfn, 1832 and 1834) Fulcher of Chartres, Fulcheri Carnotensis Historia Hierosolymitana (1095–1127), ed. H. Hagenmayer (Heidelberg, 1913) Pope Gelasius, ‘Duo Sunt’, Readings in European History, tr. J.  Robinson (Boston, MA, 1905), pp. 72–3 Einarr Skúlason’s Geisli: A Critical Edition, ed. M. Chase (Toronto, 2005)

Bibliography  343 Geoffroi de Villehardouin, La conquête de Constantinople, 2 vols, ed. E. Faral (Paris, 1938–9) Gesta Francorum et Aliorum Hierosolimitanorum. The Deeds of the Franks and the Other Pilgrims to Jerusalem, ed. R. Hill (London, 1962) ‘Gustinskaja letopis´’, PSRL II (St Petersburg, 1843) Pietro Giustiniani, Venetiarum historia vulgo Petro Iustiniano Iustiniani filio adiudicata, ed. R. Cessi and F. Bennato (Venice, 1964) Glykas, Michael, Michaelis Glycae Annales, CSHB 21, ed. I. Bekker (Bonn, 1836) Gregory the Priest, ‘Continuation of the Chronicle of Matthew of Edessa’, Armenia and the Crusades: Tenth to Twelfth Centuries: The Chronicle of Matthew of Edessa, tr. A. E. Dostourian (Belmont, MA, 1993) Grossolano, Peter, Due sermoni inediti di Pietro Grosolano, Arcivescovo di Milano, ed. A. Amelli (Florence, 1933) Heimskringla, XX-I, Snorri Sturluson, ed. B. S. Kristjánsdóttir (Reykjavík, 1991) ‘Historia Ducum Veneticorum’, MGH (S) 14 (Hannover, 1883) ‘The History of David, King of Kings’, Rewriting Caucasian History: The Medieval Armenian Adaption of the Georgian Chronicles, tr. R. Thomson (Oxford, 1996) ‘The History of the Expedition of the Emperor Frederick’, The Crusade of Frederick Barbarossa, tr. G. Loud (Farnham, 2010) Ibn al-Adim, ‘Chronique d’Alep’, RHC Historiens orientaux III (Paris, 1884), pp. 577–690 Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle of Ibn al-Athir for the Crusading Period from al-Kamil ­fi’l-ta’rikh, Part 1, tr. D. S. Richard (Aldershot, 2006). For the later period, see ‘Extrait de la Chronique intitulée Ibn-Alatyr’, Kamel-Altevarykh, RHC Historiens orientaux, vol. I (Paris, 1872), pp. 187–800 Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, tr. R. Broadhurst (London, 1952) ‘Ipat’evskaja letopis´’, PSRL II.1, ed. A. Šachmatov (Moscow, 1923) Italikos, Michael, Michel Italikos lettres et discours, ed. P. Gautier (Paris, 1972) Itinerarium Peregrinorum et Gesta Regis Ricardi, ed. W. Stubbs (London, 1864) Das Itinerarium peregrinorum: eine zeitgenössische englische Chronik zum dritten Kreuzzug in ursprünglicher Gestalt, ed. H. Mayer, MGH (S) 18 (Stuttgart, 1962) John VI Kantakouzenos, Ioannis Cantacuzeni eximperatoris historiarum libri IV, ed. L. Schopen (vol. I) and B. Niebuhr (vols II and III) (Bonn, 1828, 1831 and 1832) Jus Graeco-romanum, vol. I, ed. J. Zepos and P. Zepos (Athens, 1931, repr. Aalen, 1962) Kallikles, Nicholas, Carmi, ed. R. Romano (Naples, 1980) ‘Kecharitomene: Typikon of the Empress Irene Doukaina Komnene for the Convent of the Mother of God Kecharitomene in Constantinople’, tr: R.  Jordan, Byzantine Monastic Foundation Documents: A Complete Translation of the Surviving Founders’ Typika and Testaments, ed. J. Thomas, A. Constantinides Hero, and G. Constable (Washington, DC, 2001), pp. 649–724 Kinnamos, John, Ioannis Cinnami Epitome rerum ab Ioanne et Alexio Comnenis gestarum, ed. A. Meineke (Bonn, 1836); English tr: C. Brand, Deeds of John and Manuel Comnenus by John Kinnamos (New York, 1976) Kleinchroniken, Die byzantinischen Kleinchroniken, vol. 1, ed. P. Schreiner (Vienna, 1975) Komnene, Anna, Annae Comnenae Alexias, ed. D. R. Reinsch and A Kambylis (Berlin, 2001) ‘Kosmosoteira: Typikon of the Sebastokrator Isaac Komnenos for the Monastery of the Mother of God Kosmosoteira near Bera’, tr. N. Patterson Ševčenko, Byzantine Monastic Foundation Documents, ed. J.  Thomas, A.  Hero, and G.  Constable (Washington, DC, 2001), pp. 782–858 ‘Legendae aliquot veteres de Sancto Olavo Rege Norvegiae’, SRD, vol. 2, ed. J.  Langbek (Copenhagen, 1773), pp. 529–52 Leo the Deacon, Leonis diaconis Caloensis Historiae libri decem, ed. C. Hase (Bonn, 1828)

344 Bibliography Leo VI ‘the Wise’: ——— Leonis Romanorum Imperatoris Augusti Opera, PG 107 (Paris, 1863), pp. 1–298 ——— Book of the Eparch, ed. and German tr. J. Koder, Das Eparchenbuch Leons des Weisen (Vienna, 1991) ‘ Letopis´ po Boskresenskomu spisku’, PSRL VII (St Petersburg, 1856) ‘Letopisnyj sbornik, imenuemyj Patrіa ršeju ili Hikonovskoju letopis´ju I’, PSRL IX (St Petersburg, 1862) The Life of Leontios, Patriarch of Jerusalem Text. Translation and Commentary, ed. and tr. D. Tsougarakis (Leiden, 1993) Gaufredus Malaterra, De Rebus Gestis Rogerii Calabriae et Siciliae Comitis et Roberti Guiscardi Ducis fratris eius, ed. E. Pontieri (Bologna, 1927) Maragone, Bernardo, Annales Pisani, ed. M. Lupo Gentile, RIS, vol. 6, part 2 (Bologna, 1936) Mercati, G., ‘Gli aneddoti d’un codice Bolognese’, BZ 6 (1897), pp. 126–43 Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades: Tenth to twelfth centuries: the Chronicle of Matthew of Edessa, tr. A. E. Dostourian (Belmont, MA, 1993) Mesarites, Nicholas, Die Palastrevolution des Johannes Komnenos, ed. A.  Heisenberg (Würtzburg, 1907) Michael the Syrian, Text and Translations of the Chronicle of Michael the Great, vol 1: The Edessa-Aleppo Syriac Codex of the Chronicle of Michael the Great, ed. G Y Ibrahim, text summary by S.  P.  Brock (New Jersey, 2009); tr: J.  P.  Chabot, Chronique de Michel le Syrien, Patriarche Jacobite d’Antioche (1166–1199) (Brussels, 1963) Acta et Diplomata graeca medii aevi sacra et profana, ed. F. Miklosich and J. Müller, 6 vols (Vienna, 1968) Monumenta Poloniae Historica, vol. II, ed. A. Bielowski (Lwów, 1872) Monumenta spectantia ad unionem Ecclesiarum Graecae et Romanae, ed. A. Theiner and F. Miklosich, 2 (Vienna, 1872) Moses of Bergamo, ‘Il “Liber Pergaminus” di Mosè de Brolo’, ed. G. Gorni, Studi Medievali 11 (1970), pp. 409–60 ‘Die Musen des Kaisers Alexios I’, ed. P.  Maas, Byzantinische Zeitschrift 22 (1913), pp. 348–59; English translation: The Alexian Komnenian Muses, R. Jordan, C. Roueché et al. (Belfast Agreed Translation, unpublished, 1989) Nerses of Lambron, ‘Reflexions sur les institutions de l’église et explication du mystère de la messe’, RHC Documents Arméniens I (1869), pp. 569–603 Nikephoros II Phokas, Nicephori praecepta militaria, ed. J. Kulakovsky (St Petersburg, 1908) Niketas of Herakleia, ‘Discours contre Eustrate de Nicée’, Documents inédites d’ecclésiologie byzantine, ed. J. Darrouzès (Paris, 1966), pp. 276–304 Odo of Deuil, De profectione Ludovici VII in orientem, ed. V. G. Berry (New York, 1948) Ὁ πατήρ μου μείζων μού ἐστιν, ΙΙ. Ἔριδες καὶ σύνοδοι κατὰ τὸν ιβ´ αἰώνα, ed. S. Sakkos (Thessalonike, 1966) Ortelius, Abraham, ‘Argonautica’, in Ortelius, Parergon, 1606, Facsimile edition (s.l., 1968) Pakourianos Typikon, ‘Le typikon du sébaste Grégoire Pakourianos’, ed. P. Gautier, REB 42 (1984), pp. 5–146; English tr: ‘Pakourianos: Typikon of Gregory Pakourianos for the Monastery of the Mother of God Petritzonitissa in Bachovo’, ed. and tr. R.  Jordan, Byzantine Monastic Foundation Documents, ed. J. Thomas, A. Constantinides Hero, and G. Constable (Washington, DC, 2000), pp. 507–63 Pantokrator Typikon, ‘Le Typikon du Christ Sauveur Pantocrator’, ed. and tr. P.  Gautier, REB 32 (1974), pp. 1–145; R. Jordan, English tr.: ‘Pantokrator: Typikon of Emperor John II Komnenos for the Monastery of Christ Pantokrator in Constantinople’, Byzantine Monastic Foundation Documents, ed. J.  Thomas, A.  Constantinides Hero, and G. Constable (Washington, DC, 2000), pp. 725–81

Bibliography  345 Pope Paschal II, ‘Epistola ad Alexium imperatorem Constantinopolitanum’, PL 163 (Paris, 1854), pp. 388–9 Passio et miracula beati Olaui: Edited from a Twelfth Century Manuscript in the Library of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, ed. F. Metcalfe (Oxford, 1881) Peter the Deacon, ‘Altercatio contra Graecum quendam, sive Defensio Romanae Ecclesiae ad orationem legati Constantinopolitani imperatoris in aula Lotharii’, ed. A.  Amelli, Miscellanea Cassinese 1 (Montecassino, 1897), pp. 10–32 Peter the Venerable, The Letters of Peter the Venerable, ed. G. Constable (Cambridge, 1967) Priest of Diokleia, Το Χρονικό του Ιερέα της Διοκλείας: Κείμενο, Μετάφραση, Σχόλια, τα Πρόσωπα και ο Χώρος, tr. A. Papageorgiou (Thessalonike, 2012) Prodromos, Theodore: ——— Der byzantinische Katz-Mäuse-Krieg. Theodore Prodromus, Katomyomachia, ed. H. Hunger (Graz, 1968) ——— Theodoros Prodromos: Historische Gedichte, ed. W. Hörandner (Vienna, 1974) ——— ‘Θεοδώρου τοῦ Προδρόμου λόγος εἰς τὸν πατριάρχην Κωνσταντινουπόλεως Ἰωάννην Θʹ τὸν Ἀγαπητόν’, ed. K.  Manaphes, Ἐπετηρὶς Ἑταιρείας Βυζαντινῶν Σπουδῶν 41 (1974), pp. 223–42 ——— Théodore Prodrome, Lettres et Discours: Édition, Traduction, Commentaire, ed. M. Op de Coul (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Paris IV, 2007) ——— Theodore Prodromos: The Neglected Poems and Epigrams (Edition, Commentary and Translation), ed. N. Zagklas (unpublished doctoral thesis, Vienna, 2014) Regesten der Kaiserurkunden des oströmischen Reiches von 565–1453. Vol. 3: Regesten von 1025–1204, ed. F. Dölger and P. Wirth (Munich, 1995) Das Register des Patriarchats von Konstantinopel, ed. J.  Koder, M.  Hinterberger, and O. Kresten, vol. III (Vienna, 2001) Psellos, Michael: ——— Michaelis Pselli Scripta minora magnam partem adhuc inedita. Vol. II: Epistulae, ed. E. Kurtz and F. Drexl (Milan, 1941) ——— Imperatori di Bisanzio (Cronografia), vol. II, ed. S. Impellizzeri (Vicenza, 1984) PVL I, ed. D. S. Likhashev (Moscow, 1950) Rallis, G. and Potlis, M. Σύνταγμα τῶν θείων καἰ ἱερῶν κανόνων, 6 vols (repr. Athens, 1966) Regii neapolitani archivi monumenta edita ac illustrata, 6 vols, ed. A. Spinelli (Naples, 1858) Romuald of Salerno, Chronicon, ed. and Italian tr. C. Bonetti (Salerno, 2001) Saga Olafs konungs ens Helga: Udförligere saga om kong Olaf den Hellige efter det ældste fuldstændige pergaments haandskrift i det store Kongelige bibliothek i Stockholm, ed. C. R. Unger and P. A. Munch (Copenhagen, 1853) Sapientissimi imperatoris Leonis oracula & Anonymi Narratio de Vero Imperatore [The Oracles of the Most Wise Emperor Leo & The Tale of the True Emperor] (Amstelodamensis Graecus VI E 8) Text, Translation and Introduction, ed. W. G. Brokkaar et al. (Amsterdam, 2002) Sathas, K., Μεσαιωνικὴ βιβλιοθήκη, 8 vols (Venice, 1872–94) Les sceaux byzantins de la collection Henri Seyrig, ed. J.-C. Cheynet (Paris, 1991) Simonis de Kéza, Gesta Hungarorum, ed. and tr. L.  Veszprémy and F.  Schaer (Budapest, 1999) Skylitzes, John, Ioannis Scylitzae Synopsis Historiarum, ed. I. Thurn (Berlin, 1973) Smbat Sparapet, La Chronique attribuée au connétable Smbat, tr. G. Dédéyan (Paris, 1980) Synaxarium Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae. Propylaeum ad Acta SS Novembris, ed. Delehaye, H. (Brussels, 1902), pp. 887–90; tr. P.  Magdalino, ‘The Foundation of the Pantokrator Monastery’ (2013), p. 34 Theophylact of Ohrid: ——— Théophylacte D’Achrida Discours, Traités, Poésies, ed. P. Gautier (Thessalonike, 1980)

346 Bibliography ——— Théophylacte D’Achrida Lettres, ed. P. Gautier (Thessalonike, 1986) Three Byzantine Military Treatises, tr. G. Dennis (Washington, DC, 1985) ‘Translatio Isidori’, RHC: Historiens occidentaux 5 (Paris, 1895), pp. 322–3 ‘Translatio Sancti Nicolai Monachi anonymi Littorensis’, RHC: Historiens occidentaux 5 (Paris, 1895), pp. 255–72 Georges et Dèmètrios Tornikès, Lettres et Discours, ed. J. Darrouzès (Paris, 1970) Tzetzes, John: ——— Chiliades: Ioannis Tzetzae Historiarum variorum chilades Graecae, ed. T. Kiessling (1963 repr. Leipzig, 1826) ——— Ioannis Tzetzae Epistulae, ed. P. Leone (Leipzig, 1972) ——— Ioannis Tzetzae Historiae, ed. P. A. M. Leone (Galatina, 2007) Usama Ibn-Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation: Islam and the Crusades, tr. P. M. Cobb (London, 2008) ‘Holmogorskaja letopis´ Holmogorskaja letopis´’, PSRL I, p. 33, ed. K.  N.  Serbin (Leningrad, 1977) ‘Vita maior Stephani regis Ungariae’, ed. G.  H.  Pertz, MGH (S) 11 (Hannover, 1854), pp. 229–42 Vitalis, Orderic, The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, ed. M. Chibnall (Oxford, 1978) William of Tyre, Willelmi Tyrensiis Archiepiscopi Chronicon, ed. R.  B.  C.  Huygens (Turnhout, 1986) Xanthopoulos, Nikephoros Kallistos, ‘Historia Ecclesiastica’, PG 147 (Paris, 1865) ‘Xenedemus’, Anecdota graeca e codd. manuscriptis bibliothecarum Oxoniensum, ed. J. Cramer, vol. 3 (Oxford, 1836), pp. 204–15 Zonaras, John, Ioannis Zonarae Epitome Historiarum libri XIII–XVIII, CSHB 49, ed. T. Büttner-Wobst, vol. III (Leipzig 1897)

Secondary Works Abulafia, D., The Two Italies: Economic Relations between the Norman Kingdom of Sicily and the Northern Communes (Cambridge, 1977) Agapitos, P., ‘New Genres in the Twelfth Century: The Schedourgia of Theodore Prodromos’, Medioevo Greco 15 (2015), pp. 1–41 Ahrweiler, H.: ——— ‘L’histoire et la géographie de la région de Smyrne entre les deux occupations turques (1081–1317) particulièrement au XIII siècle’, TM 1 (1965), pp. 1–204 ——— Byzance et la mer: la marine de guerre, la politique et les institutions maritimes de Byzance aux VIIe–XVe siècles (Paris, 1966) ——— ‘Chôma-Aggélokastron’, REB 24 (1966), pp. 278–83 Ahunbay, M. and Ahunbey, Z., ‘Restoration Work at the Zeyrek Camii, 1997–1998’, Byzantine Constantinople: Monuments, Topography and Everyday Life, ed. N. Necipoğlu (Leiden, 2001), pp. 117–32 Ajbabin, A., ‘Die Mittelalterliche sidlung auf dem Plateau Eski Kermen’, Die Höhensiedlungen im Bergland der Krim: Umwelt, Kulturaustausch und Transformation am Nordrand des Byzantinischen Reiches, ed. S.  Albrecht, F.  Daim, and M.  Herdick (Mainz, 2013), pp. 165–232 Akyürek, E.: ——— ‘The Bey Dağları in the Byzantine Period: Trebenna, Neopolis and their Territories’, The IIIrd Symposium on Lycia 07–10 November 2005, Antalya Symposium Proceedings,

Bibliography  347 ed. K.  Dörtlük, B.  Varkıvanç, T.  Kahya, J.  Des Courtils, M.  Doğan Alparslan, and R. Boyraz (Antalya, 2006), pp. 1–18 ——— ‘On İkinci Yüzyılda Batı Pamphylia’da Bizans Varlığıμ Arkeolojik Buluntular Işığında Bir Değerlendirme’, 1. Uluslararası Sevgi Gönül Bizans Araştırmaları Sempozyumu Bildiriler [Papers of the First Sevgi Gönül Memorial Symposium 2007] ed. A. Ödekan, E. Akyürek, and N. Necipoğlu (Istanbul, 2010), pp. 232–9 Alexander, P., ‘The Medieval Legend of the Last Roman Emperor and Its Messianic Origin’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 41 (1978), pp. 1–15 Alexiou, M., ‘The Poverty of Écriture and the Craft of Writing: Towards a Reappraisal of the Prodromic Poems’, BMGS 10 (1986), pp. 1–40 Andrews, T.: ——— Mattʿēos Ur.hayecʿi and His Chronicle: History as Apocalypse in a Crossroads of Cultures (Leiden, 2017) ——— ‘Matthew of Edessa (Mattʿēos Uṙhayecʿi)’, Franks and Crusades in Medieval Eastern Christian Historiography, ed. A. Mallett (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 153–78 Angelov, D., ‘Emperors and Patriarchs as Ideal Children and Adolescents. Literary Conventions and Cultural Expectations’, Becoming Byzantine: Children and Childhood in Byzantium, ed. A.  Papaconstantinou and A.-M.  Talbot (Washington, DC, 2013), pp. 85–125 Angold, M.: ——— The Byzantine Empire, 1025–1204: A Political History (London, 1984) ——— Church and Society in Byzantium under the Comneni, 1081–1261 (Cambridge, 1995) ——— ‘An Afterword’, Alexios I Komnenos-Papers, ed. M. Mullett and D. Smythe (Belfast, 1996), pp. 398–417 ——— ‘The Byzantine Empire 1025–1118’, The New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-Smith (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 217–53 ——— ‘Belle Époque or Crisis?’, Cambridge History of the Byzantine Empire c.500–1492, ed. J. Shepard (Cambridge, 2008), pp. 583–626 Asbridge, T.: ——— The Creation of the Principality of Antioch, 1098–1130 (Woodbridge, 2000) ——— ‘Alice of Antioch: A Case Study of Female Power in the Twelfth Century’, The Experience of Crusading II: Defining the Crusader Kingdom, ed. P. Edbury and J. Phillips (Cambridge, 2003), pp. 29–47 ——— The Crusades: The War for the Holy Land (New York, 2010) Augé, I.: ——— ‘Convaincre ou contraindre: la politique religieuse des Comnènes à l’égard des Arméniens et des Syriaques Jacobites’, REB 60 (2002), pp. 133–50 ——— Byzantins, Arméniens et Francs au temps de la croisade: Politique religieuse et reconquête en Orient sous la dynastie des Comnènes (1081–1185) (Paris, 2007) ——— ‘Les Comnènes et le comté de Tripoli: Une collaboration efficace?’, Le comté de Tripoli: état multiculturel et multiconfessionnel (1102–1289) (Paris, 2010), pp. 141–56 Aufschnaiter, M. and Tobias, B., ‘Untersuchungen zu den Höhlen der Siedlung Eski Kermen’, Die Höhensiedlungen im Bergland der Krim: Umwelt, Kulturaustausch und Transformation am Nordrand des Byzantinischen Reiches, ed. S. Albrecht, F. Daim, and M. Herdick (Mainz, 2013), pp. 233–50 Avalishvili, Z., ‘The Cross from Overseas’, Georgica 2–3 (1936), pp. 3–11 Avramea, A., ‘Land and Sea Communications, Fourth–Fifteenth Centuries’, Economic History of Byzantium: From the Seventh through the Fifteenth Century I, ed. A.  Laiou et al. (Washington, DC, 2002), pp. 57–90

348 Bibliography Ayala, R., ‘Teofílacto de Ochida y la Educación Real’, Byzantion Nea Hellas 31 (2012), pp. 71–89 Aylward, W., ‘The Byzantine Fortifications at Pegae (Priapus) on the Sea of Marmara’, Studia Troica 16 (2006), pp. 179–203 Bakirtzis, N., ‘The Practice, Perception and Experience of Byzantine Fortification’, The Byzantine World, ed. P. Stephenson (London, 2010), pp. 352–71 Banchich, T. and Lane, E., The History of Zonaras: From Alexander Severus to the Death of Theodosius the Great (Oxford, 2009) Bara, P., Prelates, Paideia, Politics Observations on the Sources, Background and Legacy of Komnenian Iconoclasm (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Szeged, 2019) Bárány, A., ‘The Politics of Piroska’s Marriage: Byzantium, Hungary and the Normans in the Early Twelfth Century’, Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople, ed. M.  Sághy and R.  Ousterhout (Budapest, 2019), pp. 63–96 Baraton, E., La Romanie orientale. L’empire de Constantinople et ses avatars au Levant à l’époque des Croisades (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Rouen-Normandie, 2018) Barber, M, The Challenge of State Building in the Twelfth Century: The Crusader States in Palestine and Syria (Reading, 2009) Barber, R. and Barker, J., Tournaments. Jousts, Chivalry and Pageants in the Middle Age (New York, 1989) Barfield, T. J., The Perilous Frontier Nomadic Empires and China (Oxford, 1989) Barnes, H. and Whittow, M., ‘The Survey of Medieval Castles of Anatolia (1992–1996): the Meander Region’, Ancient Anatolia: Fifty Years’ Work by the British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara, ed. R. Matthews (London, 1998), pp. 347–58 Bartlett, W., Syria, The Holy Land, Asia Minor &c. Illustrated, vol. I (London, 1836) Bartusis, M.: ——— The Late Byzantine Army: Arms and Society, 1204–1453 (Philadelphia, 1992) ——— ‘Reviewed Work: The Development of the Komnenian Army, 1081–1180 by John W. Birkenmeier’, Speculum 79.1 (2004), pp. 136–9 ——— Land and Privilege in Byzantium. The Institution of Pronoia (Cambridge, 2012) Baudrillart, A., Meyer, A., and Aubert, R. (eds.), Dictionnaire d’histoire et de géographie ecclésiastiques 1 (Paris, 1912) Bautier, G., ‘L’envoi de la relique de la Vraie Croix à Notre-Dame de Paris en 1120’, Bibliothèque de l’école des chartres 219 (1971), pp. 387–97 Bayrı, B., Warriors, Martyrs, and Dervishes Moving Frontiers, Shifting Identities in the Land of Rome (13th–15th Centuries) (Leiden, 2020) Bazzani, M., ‘The Historical Poems of Theodore Prodromos, the Epic-Homeric Revival and the Crisis of Intellectuals in the Twelfth Century’, Byzantinoslavica 65 (2007), pp. 211–28 Beaton, R., ‘The Rhetoric of Poverty: The Lives and Opinions of Theodore Prodromos’, BMGS 11 (1987), pp. 1–28 Beck, H., Kirche und theologische Literatur im byzantinischen Reich (Munich, 1959) Beihammer, A.: ——— ‘Defection across the Border of Islam and Christianity: Apostasy and Cross-cultural Interaction in Byzantine-Seljuk Relations’, Speculum 86 (2011), pp. 597–651 ——— ‘Strategies of Diplomacy and Ambassadors in Byzantine-Muslim Relations in the Tenth and Eleventh Centuries’, Ambassadeurs et ambassades au coeur des relations diplomatiques, ed. A. Becker and N. Drocourt (Metz, 2012), pp. 371–400 ——— ‘Comnenian Imperial Succession and the Ritual World of Nicetas Choniates’ Chronike Diegesis’, Court Ceremonies and Rituals of Power in Byzantium and the

Bibliography  349 Medieval Mediterranean: Comparative Perspectives, ed. A. Beihammer, S. Constantinou, and M. Parani (Leiden, 2013), pp. 159–202 ——— Byzantium and the Emergence of Muslim-Turkish Anatolia ca. 1040–1130 (Abingdon, 2017) ——— ‘Patterns of Turkish Migration and Expansion in Byzantine Asia Minor in the 11th and 12th Centuries’, Migration Histories of the Medieval Afroeurasian Transition Zone: Asia and Europe, 300–1500 C.E., ed. J. Preiser-Kapeller, L. Reinfandt, and Y. Stouraitis (Leiden, 2020), pp. 166–92 Belke, K.: ——— Paphlagonien und Honorias, TIB 9 (Vienna, 1996) ——— ‘Communication: Roads and Bridges’, Oxford Handbook of Byzantine Studies, ed. E. Jeffreys, J. Haldon, and R. Cormack (Oxford, 2008), pp. 295–308 Berend, N., ‘Hungary in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries’, The New Cambridge Medieval History 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 304–16 Birkenmeier, J., The Development of the Komnenian Army 1081–1204 (Leiden, 2003) Blöndal, S., The Varangians of Byzantium, tr., revised and rewritten by B.  Benedikz (Cambridge, 2007) Blumenthal, U.-T.: ——— The Investiture Controversy: Church and Monarchy from the Ninth to the Twelfth Century (Philadelphia, 1988) ——— ‘The Papacy, 1024–1122’, The New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-Smith (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 8–37 Bortoli, A. and Kazanski, M., ‘Kherson and its Region’, Economic History of Byzantium: From the Seventh through the Fifteenth Century II, ed. A. Laiou et al. (Washington, DC, 2002), pp. 659–65 Bosworth, C., ‘The Political and Dynastic History of the Iranian World (A.D. 1000–1217)’, The Cambridge History of Iran 5: The Saljuq and Mongol Periods, ed. J. Boyle (Cambridge, 1968), pp. 1–202 Bouchet, R., Satires et parodies du Moyen Âge grec (Paris, 2012) Bossuat, R., Extrait des chansons de geste (Paris, 1935) Brand, C.: ——— Byzantium Confronts the West, 1180–1204 (Cambridge MA, 1968) ——— ‘The Turkish Element in Byzantium, Eleventh–Twelfth Centuries’, DOP 43 (1989), pp. 1–25 Bresc-Bautier, G., Le Cartulaire du Chapitre de Saint-Sepulcre de Jerusalem (Paris, 1984) Brett, M.: ——— ‘Abbasids, Fatimids and Seljuks’, The New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-Smith (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 675–720 ——— The Fatimid Empire (Edinburgh, 2017) Brosset, M.-F., Histoire de la Géorgie de l’Antiquité au XIXe siècle (St Petersburg, 1849) Broughton, T. and Braud, D., ‘Chalybes’, Oxford Classical Dictionary, ed. S.  Hornblower and A. Spawforth (Oxford, 2005), p. 304 Browning, R.: ——— ‘The Death of John II Comnenus’, Byzantion 31 (1961), pp. 229–35 ——— ‘An Unpublished Funeral Oration of Anna Comnena’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 188 (1962), pp. 1–12 Bryer, A., ‘A Byzantine Family: The Gabrades, c. 979–c. 1653’, University of Birmingham Historical Journal 12 (1970), pp. 164–87 Buck, A., The Principality of Antioch and its Frontiers in the Twelfth Century (Cambridge, 2017)

350 Bibliography Buckler, G., Anna Comnena: A Study (London, 1929) Bucossi, A., ‘The Six Dialogues of Niketas “of Maroneia”: A Contextualizing Introduction’, Dialogues and Debates from Late Antiquity to Late Byzantium, ed. A.  Cameron and N. Gaul (Abingdon, 2017), pp. 137–52 Bujan, A., ‘La Chronique du Prêtre du Dioclée Un Faux Document Historique’, REB 66 (2008), pp. 5–38 Bull, M., Eyewitness and Crusade Narrative Perception and Narration in Accounts of the Second, Third and Fourth Crusades (Woodbridge, 2018), pp. 156–92 Burns, J., ‘Conclusion’, The Cambridge History of Medieval Political Thought c.350-c.450, ed. J. Burns (Cambridge, 1988), pp. 649–52 Bury, J. B., A History of the Later Roman Empire from Arcadius to Irene, 2 vols (London, 1889) Cahen, C., ‘Une Famille byzantine au service des Seldjuqides d’Asie Mineure’, Polychronion: Festschrift Franz Dölger zum 75. Geburtstag, ed. P. Wirth (Heidelberg, 1966), pp. 145–9 M. Campagnolo-Pothitou, ‘«Comme un relent d’iconoclasme» au début du XIIe siècle: le témoignage sigillographique’, L’aniconisme dans l’art religieux byzantin, Actes du colloque de Genève (1–3 Octobre 2009) (Geneva, 2015), pp. 175–92 and 309–11 Canard, M., Histoire de la Dynastie des H’amdanides de Jazira et de Syrie (Paris, 1953) Carile, A., ‘Partitio terrarium imperii Romanie’, Studi Veneziani 7 (1965), pp. 125–305 Carr, J., The Komnene Dynasty: Byzantium’s Struggle for Survival 1057–1185 (Barnsley, 2018) Chalandon, F., Jean II Comnène, 1118–1143, et Manuel I Comnène, 1143–1180, 2 vols (repr, New York, 1912) Charanis, P.: ——— ‘The Slavic Element in Byzantine Asia Minor in the Thirteenth Century’, Byzantion 18 (1946–8), pp. 69–83 ——— ‘The Transfer of Population as a Policy in the Byzantine Empire’, Comparative Studies in Society and History 3.2 (1961), pp. 142–9 ——— ‘The Monk as an Element of Byzantine Society’, DOP 25 (1971), pp. 61–84 Chatziantoniou, E., ‘The Kritai/Praitores of Boleron, Strymon and Thessalonike in the 11th Century: Prosopography and Provincial Administration’, Byzantina 34 (2016), pp. 111–69 Chatzelis, G., Byzantine Military Manuals as Literary Works and Practical Handbooks: The Base of the Tenth-Century Sylloge Tacticorum (London, 2019) Chatzelis, G. and Harris, J., A Tenth-Century Byzantine Military Manual: The Sylloge Tacticorum (Abingdon, 2017) Chevedden, P., ‘The Invention of the Counterweight Trebuchet: A Study in Cultural Diffusion’, DOP 54 (2000), pp. 71–116 Cheynet, J.-C.: ——— ‘De stratège de thème au duc: chronologie de l’évolution au cours du XIe siècle’, TM 9 (1985), pp. 181–94 ——— Pouvoir et contestations à Byzance 963–1210 (Paris, 1990) ——— ‘Les effectifs de l’armée byzantine’, Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale 38 (1995), pp. 38–152 ——— ‘Official Power and Non-official Power’, Fifty Years of Prosopography: The Later Roman Empire, Byzantium and Beyond, ed. A. Cameron (Oxford, 2003), pp. 137–51 ——— ‘Le schisme de 1054: un non-événement?’, Faire l’événement au Moyen Âge, ed. C. Caruzzi and H. Taviani-Carozzi (Aix-en-Provence, 2007), pp. 299–312 ——— The Byzantine Aristocracy and its Military Function (Abingdon, 2018) ——— ‘Some Thoughts on Relations between Greeks and Latins at the Time of the First and Fourth Crusades’, Byzantium and the West: Perception and Reality (11th–15th c.), ed. N. Chryssis, A. Kolia-Dermitzaki, and A. Papageorgiou (London, 2019), pp. 84–101

Bibliography  351 Chkhaidze, V.: ——— ‘City Blocks of Matarcha-Tmutarakan in the Last Third of the X–the First Third of the XIII Centuries’, Sixth International Kuban Archaeological Conference. The Conference Materials (Krasnodar, 2013), pp. 442–6 ——— ‘Byzantine Lead Seals Addresses to Matrarcha in the Sixth to the Twelfth Century’, Byzantine and Rus’ Seals: Proceedings of the International Colloquium on Rus’-Byzantine Sigillography Kyiv, Ukraine, 13–16 September 2013 (Kiev, 2015), pp. 61–70 ——— ‘Building Complexes and City Planning Matarcha–Tmutarakan (Last Third X–the First Third of the XIII Centuries)’, Sugdeya Collection VI (2016), 340–67 ——— ‘Byzantine Rule at the Bosporos (Last Quarter 11th–Early 13th Centuries)’, Materials on Archaeology, History and Ethnography of Tavria. Vol. XXIII (Sebastopol, 2018), pp. 721–30 ——— ‘The Byzantine Aristocracy in the Crimea and Taman: The Hagiostephanitai (12th Century)’, Vestnik Volgogradskogo gosudarstvennogo universiteta, seriya 4: Istoriya, Regionovedenie, Mezhdunarodnye otnosheniya 23.5 (2018), pp. 131–7 ——— ‘The Restoration of Byzantium’s Authority in Bosporos (Last Quarter of the 11th Century)’, X International Seminar of the Byzantine ΧΕΡΣΩΝΟΣ ΘΕΜΑΤΑ: ‘Empire’ and ‘Policy’ (Sevastopol, 2018), pp. 167–72 Ciggaar, K.: ——— Western Travellers to Constantinople: The West and Byzantium, 962–1204: Cultural and Political Relations (Leiden, 1996) ——— ‘An Egyptian Doctor at the Comnenian Court’, Νέα Ῥώμη 2 (2005), pp. 287–302 Crane, H., ‘Evliya Çelebi’s Journey through the Pamphylian Plain in 1671–72’, Muqarnas 10 (1993), pp. 157–68 Cross, F. and Livingstone, E. (eds.), The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church (2nd ed., Oxford, 1985) Crostini, B., ‘Spiritual ‘Encyclopedias’ in Eleventh-Century Byzantium? Miscellaneous Evidence for an Encyclopedic Outlook’, Encyclopedic Trends in Byzantium? Proceedings of the International Conference held in Leuven, 6–8 May 2009, ed. P.  Van Deun and C. Macé (Leuven, 2011), pp. 213–30 Crow, J., ‘Alexios I and Kastamon: Castle and Settlement in Middle Byzantine Paphlagonia’, Alexios I Komnenos: Papers, ed. M. Mullett and D. Smythe (Belfast, 1996), pp. 12–36 Crow, J. and Bryer, A., ‘Survey in Trabzon and Gümüşhane Vilayets, Turkey, 1992–1994’, DOP 51 (1997), pp. 283–9 Cobb, P., Usama ibn Munquidh: Warrior-Poet in the Age of the Crusades (Oxford, 2005) Conder, E. and Kitchener, H., The Survey of Western Palestine, vol. III (London, 1883) Congdon, E., ‘Imperial Commemoration and Ritual in the Typikon of the Monastery of Christ Pantokrator’, REB 54 (1996), pp. 161–99 Cormack, R., Writing in Gold: Byzantine Society and its Icons (London, 1985) Cormack, R., Haldon, J., and Jeffreys, E., Oxford Handbook of Byzantine Studies (Oxford, 2012) Cornieti, M., ‘Fortificazioni urbane di frontiera in Asia Minore: Le difese di Iasos di Caria in età bizantina’, La Transgiordania nei secoli XII–XIII e le ‘frontiere’ del Mediterraneo medievale, ed. G. Vannini and M. Nucciotti (Oxford, 2012), pp. 449–57 Cosentino, S., ‘Naval Warfare: Military, Institutional and Economic Aspects’, A Companion to the Byzantine Culture of War, ca. 300–1204, ed. Y. Stouraitis (Leiden, 2018), pp. 308–55 Coufalová, H., ‘Youths in Komnenian Literature’, Graeco-Latina Brunensia 20 (2015), pp. 3–17 Ćurčić, S., Architecture in the Balkans from Diocletian to Süleyman the Magnificent (London, 2010)

352 Bibliography Curta, F., Southeastern Europe in the Middle Ages (Cambridge, 2006) Dagron, G.: ——— ‘The Urban Economy, Seventh–Twelfth Centuries’, The Economic History of Byzantium: From the Seventh through the Fifteenth Century II (Washington, DC, 2002), pp. 393–461 ——— Emperor and Priest: The Imperial Office in Byzantium (Cambridge, 2003) Darrouzès, J.: ——— Recherches sur les Ὀφφίκια de l’église byzantine (Paris, 1970) ——— (ed.) Notitiae episcopatuum Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae: Texte critique, introduction et notes (Paris, 1981) ——— ‘Un décret d’Isaac II Angélos’, REB 40 (1982), pp. 135–55 ——— ‘Trois documents de la controverse gréco-arménienne’, REB 48 (1990), pp. 89–153 Dawkins, R. M., ‘An Echo in the Norse Sagas of the Patzinak War of John II Comnenos’, AIPHOS 5 = Mélanges Émile Boisacq (Brussels, 1937), pp. 243–9 Dédéyan, G., Les pouvoirs arméniens dans le Proche-Orient méditerranéen (1068–1144) (unpublished doctoral thesis, Paris, 1990) Dédéyan, G., Les Arméniens entre Grecs, Musulmans et Croisés, 2 vols (Lisbon, 2003) Deér, J., A Magyar törzsszövetség és patrimoniális királyság külpolitikája (Kaposvár, 1928) Deluigi, H., Winter in the Land of Rûm: Defenses against the Turks in Western Anatolia (unpublished master’s thesis, İhsan Doğramacı Bilkent University, 2015) Demirtiken, E., ‘Imperial Women and Religious Foundations in Constantinople’, Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople, ed. M. Sághy and R. Ousterhout (Budapest, 2019), pp. 175–94 Dennis, G., ‘Byzantine Heavy Artillery: The Helepolis’, Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 39 (1998), pp. 99–114 Deschamps, P., La Défense de comté de Tripoli et de la principauté d’Antioche: Étude historique, géographique, toponymique et monumentale, 2 vols (Paris, 1973) Devaney, T., ‘ “Like an Ember Buried in Ashes”: The Byzantine-Venetian Conflict of 1119–1126’, Crusades—­Medieval Worlds in Conflict, ed. T.  F.  Madden, J.  L.  Naus, and V. Ryan (Farnham, 2010), pp. 127–48 DeWald, E., ‘The Comnenian Portraits in the Barberini Psalter’, Hesperia 13.1 (1944), pp. 78–86 Dezhynyuk, S., Council of Florence: The Unrealised Union (unpublished master’s thesis, Phillips Theological Seminary, Tulsa OK, 2015) Diehl, C.: ——— La Société byzantine à l’époque des Comnènes: Conférences faites à Bucharest (avril 1929) (Paris, 1929) ——— Byzantine Empresses (New York, 1963) van Dieten, J.-L., Niketas Choniates: Erläuterungen zu den Reden und Briefen nebst einer Biographie (Berlin, 1971, repr. 2012) Dimnik, M., ‘Kievan Rus’, the Bulgars and the Southern Slavs, c.1020–c.1200’, The New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-Smith (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 254–76 Dimopoulos, I., ‘Trade in Byzantine Red Wares, End of the 11th–13th Centuries’, Byzantine Trade, 4th–12th Centuries, ed. M. Mango (Abingdon, 2009), pp. 179–90 Doğan, S., ‘Byzantine Surveys in and around Alanya in 2005’, AnMed: Anadolu Akdenizi Arkeoloji Haberleri 4 (2006), pp. 65–70 Dunkle, B., ‘Anselm of Havelberg’s Use of Authorities in His Account of the Filoque’, BZ 10 (2012), pp. 695–722 Eastmond, A., Royal Imagery in Medieval Georgia (University Park, PA, 1998)

Bibliography  353 Edbury, P. and Rowe, J., William of Tyre: Historian of the Latin East (Cambridge, 1988) Edwards, R., The Fortifications of Armenian Cilicia (Washington, DC, 1987) Eideneier, H., Ptochoprodromos (Cologne, 1991) Ellenblum, R., The Collapse of the Eastern Mediterranean: Climate Change and the Decline of the East, 950–1072 (Cambridge, 2012) Engel, P., The Realm of St Stephen: A History of Medieval Hungary 895–1526 (London, 2019) Epstein, A., ‘Middle Byzantine Churches of Kastoria: Dates and Implications’, The Art Bulletin 62 (1980), pp. 190–206 Ewing, H., A ‘Truly Unmonastic Way of Life’: Byzantine Critiques of Monasticism in the Twelfth Century (unpublished doctoral thesis, Ohio State University, 2014) von Falkenhausen, V., ‘The South Italian Sources’, Proceedings of the British Academy 132 (2007), pp. 95–121 Farag, W, ‘The Aleppo Question: A Byzantine-Fatimid Conflict of Interests in Northern Syria in the Later Tenth Century’, BMGS 14 (1990), pp. 44–60 Ferluga, J., ‘Die Chronik des Priesters von Diokleia als Quelle für byzantinische Geschichte’, Vyzantina 10 (1980), pp. 431–60 Festa, N., ‘Nicetas di Maronea e i suoi dialoghi sulla processione dello Spirito Santo’, Bessarione 16 (1912), pp. 80–107, 126–32, 266–86; 17 (1913), pp. 104–13, 295–315; 18 (1914), pp. 55–75, 243–59; 19 (1915), pp. 239–46 Fine, J., The Early Medieval Balkans: A Critical Survey from the Sixth to the Late Twelfth Century (Ann Arbor, MI, 1991) Font, M., Koloman the Learned, King of Hungary (Szeged, 2001); tr. M.  Miklán (unpublished doctoral thesis: University of Pécs, 2001) Fosella, J., The Emperor’s Eyes: The Dromos and Byzantine Communications, Diplomacy and Bueaucracy, 518–1204 (unpublished doctoral thesis, Saint Louis University, 2014) Foss, C.: ——— ‘Late Byzantine Fortifications in Lydia’, JÖB 28 (1979), pp. 297–320 ——— ‘The Defences of Asia Minor against the Turks’, The Greek Orthodox Theological Review 27 (1982), pp. 145–201 ——— Survey of Medieval Castles of Anatolia I: Kütahya (Oxford, 1985) ——— ‘The Lycian Coast in the Byzantine Age’, DOP 48 (1994), pp. 1–52 ——— ‘The Cities of Pamphylia in the Byzantine Age’, Cities, Fortresses, and Villages of Byzantine Asia Minor, ed. C. Foss (Brookfield, Vermont, 1996), pp. 1–62 Foss, C. and Winfield, D., Byzantine Fortifications: An Introduction (Pretoria, 1986) France, J., Western Warfare in the Age of the Crusades, 1000–1300 (London, 1999) Frankopan, P.: ——— ‘A Victory of Gregory Pakourianos against the Pechenegs’, Byzantinoslavica 57 (1996), pp. 278–81 ——— ‘Byzantine Trade Privileges to Venice in the Eleventh Century: The Chrysobull of 1092’, Journal of Medieval History 30 (2004), pp. 135–60 ——— ‘Kinship and the Distribution of Power in Komnenian Byzantium’, English Historical Review 495 (2007), pp. 1–34 ——— The First Crusade: The Call from the East (London, 2012) ——— ‘Aristocratic Family Narratives in Twelfth-century Byzantium’, Reading in the Byzantine Empire and Beyond, ed. T.  Shawcross and I.  Toth (Cambridge, 2018), pp. 317–35 Frantz, K., Indian Reservations in the United States: Territory, Sovereignty, and Socioeconomic Change (Chicago, 1999) Fulton, M., Artillery in the Era of the Crusades: Siege Warfare and the Development of Trebuchet Technology (Leiden, 2018)

354 Bibliography Gallasso, G., ‘Social and Political Developments in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries’, The Normans in Sicily and Southern Italy. Lincei Lectures 1974 (Oxford, 1977), pp. 47–63 Garcia, B., ‘Politics, History and Rhetoric: On the Structure of the First Book of Niketas Choniates’ History’, Byzantinoslavica 56 (1995), pp. 423–8 Garland, L.: ——— Women and Power in Byzantium AD 527–1204 (London, 1999) ——— ‘Mary of Alania: Woman and Empress between Two Worlds’, Byzantine Women: Varieties of Experience, 800–1200, ed. L. Garland (Aldershot, 2006), pp. 91–124 ——— ‘Imperial Women and Entertainment at the Middle Byzantine Court’, Byzantine Women: Varieties of Experience, 800–1200, ed. L. Garland (Aldershot, 2006), pp. 177–91 Garridor, B., Les anciens monastères benedictins en orient (Paris, 1912) Gautier, P.: ——— ‘L’obituaire du Typikon du Pantocrator’, REB 27 (1969), pp. 235–62 ——— ‘Le synode des Blachernes (fin 1094): Étude prosopographique’, REB 29 (1971), pp. 213–84 ——— ‘L’édit d’Alexis Comnène sur la réforme du clergé’, REB 31 (1973), pp. 165–202 Gay, J., ‘L’Abbaye de Cluny et Byzance au début du XIIe siècle’, Échos d’Orient 30 (1931), pp. 84–90 Geanakoplos, D.: ——— ‘Church and State in the Byzantine Empire: A Reconsideration of the Problem of Caesaropapism’, Church History 34.4 (1965), pp. 381–403 ——— Byzantine East and Latin West: Two Worlds of Christendom in the Middle Ages and Renaissance (Oxford, 1966) Gerolymatou, M., Αγορές, έμποροι και εμπόριο στο Βυζάντιο 9ος–12ος αι. (Athens, 2008) Geyer, B., ‘Physical Factors in the Evolution of the Landscape and Land Use’, Economic History of Byzantium: From the Seventh through the Fifteenth Century I, ed. A.  Laiou et al. (Washington, DC, 2002), pp. 31–45 Ghazarian, J., The Armenian Kingdom in Cilicia during the Crusades: The Integration of Cilician Armenians with the Latins 1080–1393 (Richmond, 2000) Gibbon, E., The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, ed. D.  Womersley, 3 vols (London, 1994) Gkoutzioukostas, A.: ——— ‘Η εξέλιξη του θεσμού των ἀσηκρῆτις και του πρωτοασηκρῆτις στο πλαίσιο της αυτοκρατορικής γραμματείας’, Βυζαντινά 23 (2002–3), pp. 47–93 ——— Η απονομή δικαιοσύνης στο Βυζάντιο (9ος–12ος αι.): Τα δικαιοδοτικά όργανα και δικαστήρια της πρωτεύουσας (Thessalonike, 2004) ——— ‘Byzantine Officials in the Typikon of the Monastery of Christ Pantokrator in Constantinople’, The Pantokrator Monastery in Constantinople, ed. S. Kotzabassi (Berlin, 2013), pp. 71–81 ——— ‘The Judges of the Macedonian Theme (9th–12th c.)’, JÖB 63 (2013), pp. 113–26 ——— ‘Administrative Structures of Byzantium during the 11th Century: Officials of the Imperial Secretariat and Administration of Justice’, TM 21.2 (2017), pp. 561–80 Glatz, C. and Matthews, R., At Empire’s Edge: Project Paphlagonia: Regional Survey in North-Central Turkey (London, 2009) Goitein, S.: ——— ‘A Letter from Seleucia (Cilicia): Dated 21 July 1137’, Speculum 39 (1964), pp. 298–303 ——— A Mediterranean Society: The Jewish Communities of the Arab World as Portrayed in the Documents of the Cairo Geniza, 6 vols (Berkeley, 1967) Golden, P.: ——— ‘The Polovcii Dikii’, Harvard Ukrainian Studies 3–4 (1979–80), pp. 296–309

Bibliography  355 ——— ‘The Turkic People and Caucasia’, Transcaucasia. Nationalism and Social Change. Essays in the History of Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia, ed. R. G. Suny (Ann Arbor, MI, 1983) ——— ‘Cumanica I: The Qipcaqs in Georgia’, Archivum Eurasiae Medii Aevi 4 (Wiesbaden, 1984), pp. 45–87 ——— ‘Nomads in a Sedentary World: The Case of Pre-Chinggisid Rus’ and Georgia’, Nomads in the Sedentary World, ed. A. M. Khazanov and A. Wink (Richmond, 2001), pp. 41–81 Gouillard, J., ‘Quatre proces de mystiques à Byzance (vers 960–1143): Inspiration et autorité’, REB 36 (1978), pp. 5–81 Grierson, P., Byzantine Coins (London, 1982) Grumel, V.: ——— ‘Les patriarches grecs d’Antioche du nom de Jean (XI et XII siècles)’, Échos d’Orient 32 (1933), pp. 279–99 ——— ‘Notes pour l’Oriens Christianus’, Echos d’Orient 33 (1934), pp. 53–8 ——— La Chronologie (Paris, 1958) ——— Les Regestes des actes du Patriarchat de Constantinople. Vol. 1: Les actes des patriarches (Paris, 1972) Guevara, P., Aftershocks of Byzantium: The Komnenian restoration through Twelfth and  Thirteenth Century Syriac Chronicles (unpublished master’s thesis, Oxford University, 2019) Guilland, R.: ——— ‘Étude sur l’histoire administrative de l’empire byzantine: L’orphanotrophe’, REB 23 (1965), pp. 205–21 ——— Recherches sur les Institutions Byzantines, vol. I (Amsterdam, 1967) ——— ‘Les Logothètes: Études sur l’histoire administrative de l’empire byzantin’, REB 29 (1971), pp. 5–115 Hadjilyra, A-M., The Armenians of Cyprus (Nicosia, 2009) Haldon, J.: ——— Warfare, State and Society in the Byzantine World, 565–1204 (London, 1999) ——— Byzantium: A History (Stroud, 2000) ——— Palgrave Atlas of Byzantine History (Basingstoke, 2005) ——— ‘Social Élites, Wealth, and Power’, The Social History of Byzantium, ed. J.  Haldon (Chichester, 2009), pp. 168–211 ——— ‘Provincial Elites, Central Authorities: Problems in Fiscal and Military Management in the Byzantine State’, The Province Strikes Back: Imperial Dynamics in the Eastern Mediterranean, ed. B. Forsén and G. Salmeri (Helsinki, 2008), pp. 157–85 ——— ‘The Army and Military Logistics’, The Byzantine World, ed. P. Stephenson (London, 2010), pp. 47–60 Hale, J., War and Society in Renaissance Europe (Leicester, 1985) Halkin, F., ‘Saint Grégoire d’Assos. Vie et synaxaire inédits (BHG et Auctar. 710a et c)’, Analecta Bollandiana 102.1–2 (1984), pp. 5–34 Hämäläinen, P., The Comanche Empire (London, 2008) Hamilton, B.: ——— ‘Women in the Crusader States: The Queens of Jerusalem (1100–1190)’, Medieval Women, ed. D. Baker (Oxford, 1978), pp. 143–74 ——— The Latin Church in the Crusader States: The Secular Church (London, 1980) Harris, J.: ——— Byzantium and the Crusades (London, 2007) ——— ‘The “Schism” of 1054 and the First Crusade’, Crusades 13 (2014), pp. 1–20

356 Bibliography Harvey, A., ‘Financial Crisis and the Rural Economy’, Alexios I Komnenos-Papers, ed. M. Mullett and D. Smythe (Belfast, 1996), pp. 167–84 Hatzaki, M., ‘The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly’, A Companion to Byzantium, ed. L. James (Malden, 2010), pp. 93–107 Heather, P., ‘The Late Roman Art of Client Management: Imperial Defence in the Fourth Century West’, The Transformation of Frontiers from Late Antiquity to the Carolingians, ed. W. Pohl, I. Wood, and H. Reimitz (Leiden, 2001), pp. 15–68 Heisenburg, A., Aus der Geschichte und Literatur der Palaiologenzeit (Munich, 1920) Hendrickx, B., ‘Un roi Africain à Constantinople en 1203’, Byzantina 13.2 (1985), 893–8 Hendy, M.: ——— Coinage and Money in the Byzantine Empire, 1081–1261 (Washington, DC, 1969) ——— Studies in the Byzantine Monetary Economy, c. 300–1450 (Cambridge, 1985) ——— The Economy, Fiscal Administration, and Coinage of Byzantium (Northampton, 1989) Herman, E., ‘Balsamon, DDC II, cols. 76–83’, The History of Byzantine and Eastern Canon Law to 1500, ed. W. Hartmann and K. Pennington (Washington, DC, 2012), pp. 180–3 Herrin, J., ‘Realities of Provincial Government: Hellas and the Peloponnesos, 1180–1205’, Margins and Metropolis: Authority Across the Byzantine Empire (Princeton, 2013), pp. 58–102 Herzfeld, E. and Guyer, S., Meriamlik und Korykos; zwei christliche Ruinenstätten des rauhen Kilikiens (Manchester, 1930) Hild, F. and Hellenkemper, H., Kilikien und Isaurien, TIB 5 (Vienna, 1990) Hilkins, A., The Anonymous Syriac Chronicle of 1234 and Its Sources (Leuven, 2018) Hinterberger, M., Autobiographische Traditionen in Byzanz (Vienna, 1999) Hobbs, C., ‘John II Kinnamos’, Franks and Crusades in Medieval Eastern Christian Historiography, ed. A. Mallett (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 65–92 Hodgeson, N., Women, Crusading and the Holy Land in Historical Narrative (Woodbridge, 2007) Hogarth, D. and Munro, J., Modern and Ancient Roads in Eastern Asia Minor (London, 1893) Hohlweg, A., Beiträge zur Verwaltungsgeschichte des oströmischen Reiches unter den Komnenen (Munich, 1965) Holmes, C., Basil II and the Governance of Empire (976–1025) (Oxford, 2005) Holtzman, W., ‘Die Unionsverhandlungen zwischen Kaiser Alexios  I.  und Papst Urban II. im Jahre 1089’, BZ 28 (1928), pp. 38–67 Horden, P., ‘Medieval Hospital Formularies: Byzantium and Islam Compared’, Medical Books in the Byzantine World, ed. B. Zipser (Bologna, 2013), pp. 145–64 Horváth, A., Pechenegs, Cumans, Iasians: Steppe Peoples in Medieval Hungary (Budapest, 1989) Houben, H., Roger II of Sicily: A Ruler between East and West (Cambridge, 2002) Houtsma, M. and Arnold, R. (ed.), Brill’s Encyclopaedia of Islam 1913–1936 (Leiden, 1993) Hill, B.: ——— ‘A Vindication of the Rights of Women to Power by Anna Komnene’, Byzantinische Forschungen 23 (1996), pp. 45–53 ——— Imperial Women in Byzantium 1025–1204: Power, Patronage and Ideology (Harlow, 1999) ——— ‘Actions Speak Louder than Words: Anna Komnene’s Attempted Usurpation’, Anna Komnene and Her Times, ed. T. Gouma-Peterson (London, 2000), pp. 45–62 Hörandner, W., ‘Zur kommunikativen Funktion byzantinischer Gedichte’, XVIII Mezdunarodnyj kongress vizantinistov. Plenarnye doklady, ed. I.  Ševčenko and G. Litavrin (Moscow, 1991), pp. 415–32 Howard-Johnston, J., ‘Anna Komnene and the Alexiad’, Alexios I Komnenos-Papers, ed. M. Mullett and D. Smythe (Belfast, 1996), pp. 260–301

Bibliography  357 Huber, G., A Survey of Coastal Cities in Western Cilicia (Ankara, 1967) Hunger, H., Die hochsprachliche profane Literatur der Byzantiner, 2 vols (Munich, 1978) Hussey, J., The Orthodox Church in the Byzantine Empire (rev. ed., Oxford, 2010) Ivanišević, V. and Krsmanović, B., ‘New Byzantine Seals from Morava (Margum) and Braničevo’, Starinar 68 (2018), pp. 111–24 Ivanov, S. and Lubotsky, A., ‘An Alanic Marginal Note and the Exact Date of John II’s Battle with the Pechenegs’, BZ 103.2 (2011), pp. 595–603 Janin, R.: ——— ‘Études de topographie byzantine: Ἔμβολοι τοῦ Δομνίνου. Τὰ Μαυριανοῦ’, Échos d’Orient, 36 (1937), pp. 129–56 ——— ‘Les Sanctuaires des Colonies Latines à Constantinople’, REB 4 (1946), pp. 163–77 ——— ‘CODRA (Κόδρα, Κόδραι)’, Dictionnaire d’histoire et de géographie ecclésiastiques, vol. 13 (Paris, 1956), pp. 189–90 ——— Les églises et les monastères des grands centres byzantines (Paris, 1975) Janssen, M. and Lauxtermann, M., ‘Authorship Revisited: Language and Metre in the Ptochoprodromika’, Reading in the Byzantine Empire and Beyond, ed. R. Shawcross and I. Toth (Cambridge, 2018), pp. 558–84 Jeffreys, E.: ——— ‘A Date for Rhodanthe and Dosikles?’, Der Roman im Byzanz der Komnenenzeit: Referate des Internationalen Symposiums an der Freien Universität Berlin, 3. bis 6. April 1998 (Frankfurt am Main, 2000), pp. 127–36 ——— ‘Theodore Prodromos, Rhodanthe and Dosikles’, Four Byzantine Novels (Liverpool, 2012), pp. 3–156 ——— ‘The Sebastokratorissa Irene as Patron’, Female Founders in Byzantium and Beyond, ed. L. Theis, M. Mullett, M. Grünbart, with G. Fingarova and M. Savage (Vienna, 2014), pp. 177–94 ——— ‘Literary Trends in the Constantinopolitan Courts in the 1120s and 1130s’, John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium: In the Shadow of Father and Son, ed. A. Bucossi and A. Rodriguez Suarez (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 110–20 Jeffreys, M.: ——— ‘The Comnenian Prokypsis’, Parergon n.s. 5 (1987), pp. 38–53 ——— ‘Piroska and the Komnenian Dynasty’, Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople, ed. M.  Sághy and R. Ousterhout (Budapest, 2019), pp. 97–120 Jevtić, M., ‘The Suburb of the Town of Braničevo—­a Model of a 12th-Century Settlement’, Processes of Byzantinisation and Serbian Archeology, ed. V.  Bikić (Belgrade, 2006), pp. 117–23 Joannou, P.: ——— ‘Eustrate de Nicée. Trois pieces inédites de son procès’, REB 10 (1952), pp. 24–34 ——— ‘Der Nominalismus und die menschliche Psychologie Christi. Das Semeioma gegen Eustrate de Nicée’, BZ 47 (1954), pp. 368–78 ——— ‘Le sort des évêques hérétiques réconciliés. Un discours inédit de Nicétas de Serres contre Eustrate de Nicée’, Byzantion 28, 1958, pp. 1–30 Jones, D., Crusaders: An Epic History of the Wars for the Holy Lands (London, 2019) Jones, L. and Maguire, H., ‘A Description of the Jousts of Manuel I Komnenos’, BMGS 26 (2002), pp. 104–48 Jotischky, A., Crusading and the Crusader States (Harlow, 2004) Kadas, S., Τα σημειώματα των χειρογράφων της Ιεράς Μεγίστης Μονής Βατοπαιδίου (Mt. Athos, 2000)

358 Bibliography Kaldellis, A.: ——— ‘Review of The Development of the Komnenian Army, 1081–1180 by John W. Birkenmeier’, BMGS 29.1 (2005), pp. 91–3 ——— Hellenism in Byzantium: The Transformations of Greek Identity and the Reception of the Classical Tradition (Cambridge, 2007) ——— ‘Paradox, Reversal and the Meaning of History’, Niketas Choniates: A Historian and Writer, ed. A. Simpson and S. Efthymiadis (Geneva, 2009), pp. 75–100 ——— The Byzantine Republic: People and Power in New Rome (London, 2015) ——— ‘The Manufacture of History in the Later Tenth and Eleventh Centuries: Rhetorical Templates and Narrative Ontologies’, Proceedings of the 23rd International Congress of Byzantine Studies: Belgrade, 22–27 August 2016: Plenary Papers (Belgrade, 2016), pp. 293–306 ——— ‘Did the Byzantine Empire Have “Ecumenical” or “Universal” Aspirations?’, Ancient States and Infrastructural Power, ed. C. Ando and S. Richardson (Philadelphia, 2017), pp. 272–300 Kalich, J., ‘Zemun u XII veku’, ZRVI 13 (1971), pp. 27–56 Karayannopoulos, I., Ιστορία Βυζαντινού Κράτους, vol. III.1: Ιστορία Υστέρας Βυζαντινής Περιόδου (1081–1453): Τελευταίες λάμψεις (Thessalonike, 1990) Karpozilos, A., Βυζαντινοὶ ἱστορικοὶ καὶ χρονογράφοι, vol. III (Athens, 2009) Kasbarian, S. and Gorman, A., ‘The “Others” Within: The Armenian Community in Cyprus’, Diasporas of the Modern Middle East (Edinburgh, 2015), pp. 241–73 Kaufhold, H., ‘Sources of Canon Law in the Eastern Churches’, The History of Byzantine and Eastern Canon Law to 1500, ed. W.  Hartmann and K.  Pennington (Washington, DC, 2012), pp. 215–42 Kazhdan, A.: ——— ‘Zagadka Komninov: (Opyt istoriografii)’, Vizantijskij Vremennik 25 (1964), pp. 53–98 ——— Sotsialnyi sostav gospodsvuyushkego klassa Vizantii XI–XII vv. (Moscow, 1974) ——— ‘Der Körper im Geschichtswerk des Niketas Choniates’, Fest und Alltag in Byzanz, ed. G. Prinzing and D. Simon (Munich, 1990), pp. 91–105 ——— ‘The Latins and Franks in Byzantine Perception and Reality’, Byzantium and the Muslim World: The Crusades from the Eastern Perspective, ed. A.  Laiou and R. Mottahedeh (Washington, DC, 2000), pp. 83–100 Kazhdan, A. and Constable, G., People and Power in Byzantium: An Introduction to Modern Byzantine Studies (Washington, 1982) Kazhdan, A. and Epstein, A., Change in Byzantine Culture in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Los Angeles, 1985) Kazhdan, A. and Franklin, S.: ——— ‘Theodore Prodromos: A Reappraisal’, Studies on Byzantine Literature of the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Cambridge, 1984), pp. 87–114 ——— ‘Nicetas Choniates and Others: Aspects of the Art of Literature’, Studies on Byzantine Literature of the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries, ed. A.  Kazhdan and S.  Franklin (Cambridge, 1984), pp. 256–86 Kazhdan, A. and Ronchey, S., L’aristocrazia bizantina: dal principio dell’XI alla fine del XII secolo (Palermo, 1997) Kelly, T. F.: ——— The Exultet in Southern Italy (Oxford, 1996) ——— ‘The Exultet in Dalmatian Manuscripts in Beneventan Script’, Srednjovjekovne glazbene culture Jadrana—­Medieval Music Cultures of the Adriatic Region, ed. S.  Tuksar (Zagreb, 2000), pp. 23–38

Bibliography  359 Kennedy, H., Crusader Castles (Cambridge, 1994) Khazanov, A., Nomads and the Outside World (2nd ed., London, 1994) de Khitrowo, B., Itinéraires Russes en Orient (Genève, 1889) Klein, H., ‘Eastern Objects and Western Desires: Relics and Reliquaries between Byzantium and the West’, DOP 58 (2004), pp. 283–314 Kraft, A., ‘The Last Roman Emperor “Topos” in the Byzantine Apocalyptic Tradition’, Byzantion 82 (2012), pp. 213–57 Kretschmayr, H. von, Geschichte von Venedig, vol. I (Gotha, 1905) Krey, A., The First Crusade: The Accounts of Eyewitnesses and Participants (Princeton, 1921) Koder, J. and Hild, F., Hellas und Thessalia, TIB 1 (Vienna, 1976) Kolbaba, T., ‘The Virtues and Faults of the Latin Christians’, The Byzantine World, ed. P. Stephenson (London, 2010), pp. 114–30 Kolia-­Dermitzaki, A.: ——— ‘Die Kreuzfahrer und die Kreuzzüge im Sprachgebrauch der Byzantiner’, JÖB 41 (1991), pp. 171–84 ——— Ο βυζαντινός ἱερός πόλεμος (Athens, 1991) ——— ‘ “Holy War” in Byzantium Twenty Years Later: A Question of Term Definition and Interpretation’, Byzantine War Ideology between Roman Imperial Concept and Christian Religion: Akten des Internationalen Symposiums (Wien 19.–21. Mai 2011), ed. J. Koder and I. Stouraitis (Vienna, 2012), pp. 121–32 ——— ‘Byzantium and the Crusades in the Komnenian Era: Perception and Reality’, Byzantium and the West: Perception and Reality (11th–15th c.), ed. N. Chryssis, A. KoliaDermitzaki, and A. Papageorgiou (London, 2019), pp. 59–83 Konstantopoulos, K.  M., Bυζαντιακὰ μολυβδόβουλλα τοῦ ἐν Ἀθήναις Νομισματικοῦ Μουσείου (Athens, 1917) Korobeinikov, D., ‘Raiders and Neighbours: The Turks (1040–1304)’, Cambridge History of the Byzantine Empire c.500–1492, ed. J. Shepard (Cambridge, 2008), pp. 692–727 Kosztolnyik, Z.  J., The Dynastic Policy of the Árpáds, Géza I to Emery (1074–1204) (Boulder, 2006) Kouroupou, M. and Vannier, J.-F., ‘Commémoraisons des Comnènes dans le typikon liturgique du monastère du Christ Philanthrope (ms. Panaghia Kamariotissa 29)’, REB 63 (2005), pp. 41–69 Kozlov, S. A., ‘More than Enemies. The Description of Nomads in the Byzantine Literature of the Epoch of the First Pecheneg Incursions’, Rules and Violence: On the Cultural History of Collective Violence from Late Antiquity to the Confessional Age, ed. C. Dietl and T. Knäpper (Berlin, 2014), pp. 83–100 Krabbenhöft, N., A Veneer of Power: Thirteenth-Century Seljuk Frescoes on the Walls of Alanya and Some Recommendations for their Preservation (unpublished master’s thesis, Koç University, Istanbul, 2011) Kresten, O. and Müller, A., ‘Die Auslandsschreiben der byzantinischen Kaiser des 11. und 12. Jahrhunderts: Spezimen einer kritischen Ausgabe’, BZ 86–7 (1993–4), pp. 422–9 Külzer, A., Osthrakien, TIB 12 (Vienna, 2008) Kurtz, E., ‘Unedierte Texte aus der Zeit des Kaisers Johannes Komnenos’, BZ 16 (1907), pp. 69–119 Kuttner, S., ‘The Father of the Science of Medieval Canon Law’, The Jurist: Studies in Church Law and Ministry 1 (1941), pp. 2–19 Kyriakidis, S.: ——— Warfare in Late Byzantium, 1204–1453 (Leiden, 2011) ——— ‘The Revolt of General Kassianos in Mesothynia (1306)’, Byzantion Nea Hellas 33 (2014), pp. 165–80

360 Bibliography ——— ‘Army Structure: Roman Continuity and Byzantine Change’, A Companion to the Byzantine Culture of War, ca. 300–1204, ed. Y. Stouraitis (Leiden, 2018), pp. 229–58 Laiou, A.: ——— ‘Exchange and Trade, Seventh–Twelfth Centuries’, The Economic History of Byzantium: From the Seventh through the Fifteenth Century II, ed. A.  Laiou et al. (Washington, DC, 2002), pp. 697–770 ——— ‘Regional Networks in the Balkans in the Middle and Late Byzantine Periods’, Trade and Markets in Byzantium, ed. C. Morrisson (Washington, DC, 2012), pp. 125–46 Łajtar, A. and Płóciennik, T., ‘A Man from Provence on the Middle Nile: A Graffito in the Upper Church at Banganarti’, Nubian Voices. Studies in Christian Nubian Culture, ed. A. Łajtar and J. van der Vliet (Warsaw, 2011), pp. 95–119 Lambros, S., ‘Αὐτοκρατόρων τοῦ Βυζαντίου χρυσόβουλλα καὶ χρυσὰ γράμματα ἀναφερόμενα εἰς ἕνωσιν τῶν εκκλησιῶν’, Νέος Ἑλληνομνήμων 11 (1914), pp. 94–128 Lambton, A., ‘The Internal Structure of the Saljuq Empire’, The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 5: The Saljuq and Mongol Periods, ed. J.  Boyle (Cambridge, 1968), pp. 203–82 Lamma, P., Comneni e Staufer: Ricerche sui rapport fra Bisanzio e l’Occidente nel secolo XII (Rome, 1955) Larson, A., Master of Penance: Gratian and the Development of Penitential Thought and Law in the Twelfth Century (Washington, DC, 2014) Lascaratos, J. and Voros, D., ‘The Fatal Wounding of Emperor John II Comnenus’, Journal of Wound Care 7 (1998), pp. 195–6 Latham, A., Theorizing Medieval Geopolitics: War and World Order in the Age of the Crusades (London, 2012) Lau, M.: ——— ‘The Power of Poetry: Portraying the Expansion of the Empire under John II Komnenos’, Landscapes of Power—­ Selected Papers from the XV Oxford University Byzantine Society International Graduate Conference, ed. M. Lau, C. Franchi, and M. Di Rodi (Oxford, 2014), pp. 195–214 ——— ‘Ioannoupolis: Lopadion as “City” and Military Headquarters under Emperor Ioannes II Komnenos’, The City and the Cities—­Selected Papers from the XVI Oxford University Byzantine Society International Graduate Conference, ed. N.  Matheou, L. Bondioli, and T. Kampianaki (Leiden, 2016), pp. 435–64 ——— ‘Multilateral Cooperation in the Black Sea in the Late Eleventh and Early Twelfth Centuries: The Case for an Alliance between Byzantium, Kiev and Georgia’, Cross Cultural Exchange in the Byzantine World, c.300–1500 A.D.—Selected Papers from the XVII Oxford University Byzantine Society’s International Graduate Conference, ed. K. Stewart and J. Wakeley (Oxford, 2016), pp. 19–36 ——— ‘Rewriting the 1120s: Chronology and Crisis under John II Komnenos’, Making and Remaking of Byzantium, ed. M. Repajić and L. Vilimonović (Belgrade, 2016), pp. 87–108 ——— ‘Immigrants and Cultural Pluralism in Twelfth-Century Byzantium’, Seiyo Chusei Kenkyu 10 (2018) [Medieval European Studies—­special issue: Byzantine Empire and the Medieval Christian World], pp. 87–120 ——— ‘A Dream Come True? Matthew of Edessa and the Return of the Roman Emperor’, Dreams, Memory and Imagination in Byzantium, ed. B.  Neil and E.  AnagnostouLaoutides (Leiden, 2018), pp. 160–79 ——— ‘Piroska-Eirene, First Western Empress of Byzantium: Power and Perception’, Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople, ed. M. Sághy and R. Ousterhout (Budapest, 2019), pp. 143–52

Bibliography  361 ——— ‘ “Both General and Lady”: The 1135 Defence of Gangra by its Amira’, Women and Violence in the Medieval Mediterranean, ed. L. Caravaggi, L. Domingues, and G. Paoletti (Abingdon, 2022), pp. 25–38 ——— ‘Rewriting History at the Court of the Komnenoi: Processes and Practices’, Rewriting History in the Central Middle Ages, 900–1300, ed. E. Winkler and C. Lewis (Turnhout, 2022), pp. 121–47 ——— ‘John II Komnenos (1118–1143)’, Encyclopedia of Medieval Royal Iconography 2 (2022), pp. 669–78, https://doi.org/10.3390/encyclopedia2020046 Lau, M. and Shlyakhtin, R., ‘Mas’ūd I of Ikonion: The Overlooked Victor of the TwelfthCentury Anatolian Game of Thrones’, Byzantinoslavica 76 (2019), pp. 230–52 Laurent, V.: ——— Le Corpus des sceaux de l’empire byzantin. L’église: Supplément (Paris, 1972) ——— Le Corpus des sceaux de l’empire byzantin II. L’administration centrale (Paris, 1981) Lauxtermann, M.: ——— ‘The Velocity of Pure Iambs: Byzantine Observations on the Metre and Rhythm of the Dodecasyllable’, JÖB 48 (1998), pp. 9–33 ——— ‘His, and Not His: The Poems of the Late Gregory the Monk’, The Author in Middle Byzantine Literature, ed. A. Pizzone (Berlin, 2014), pp. 77–86 Lawrence, A., ‘A Skeletal History of Byzantine Fortification’, The Annual of the British School at Athens 78 (1983), pp. 171–227 Leclercq, J., ‘Les Relations entre le monachisme oriental et occidental dans le haut moyen âge’, Le millénaire du Mont Athos, 963–1963 II, ed. J.  Leclercq (Chevetogne, 1964), pp. 49–80 Lees, J., Anselm of Havelberg (Leiden, 1998) Le Strange, G., Palestine under the Moslems: A Description of Syria and the Holy Land from A.D. 650 to 1500 (London, 1890) Leyser, K., Medieval Germany and its Neighbours, 900–1250 (London, 1982) Lilie, R.-J.: ——— Handel und Politik zwischen dem byzantinischen Reich und den italienischen Kommunen Venedig, Pisa und Genua in der Epoche der Komnenen und der Angeloi (1081–1204) (Amsterdam, 1984) ——— ‘Die Lateinische Kirche in der Romania vor dem Vierten Kreuzzug’, BZ 82 (1989), pp. 202–20 ——— ‘Twelfth-century Byzantine and Turkish States’, BF 16 (1990), pp. 35–51 ——— Byzantium and the Crusader States, 1096–1204 (Oxford, 1993) ——— ‘Reality and Invention: Reflections on Byzantine Historiography’, DOP 68 (2012), pp. 157–210 Linardou, K., ‘Imperial Impersonations: Disguised Portraits of a Komnenian Prince and His Father’, John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium: In the Shadow of Father and Son, ed. A. Bucossi and A. Rodriguez Suarez (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 155–82 Loud, G. A.: ——— ‘The Papacy and the Rulers of Southern Italy’, ed. G. A. Loud and A. Metcalfe, The Society of Norman Italy (Leiden, 2002), pp. 151–84 ——— ‘Southern Italy in the Eleventh Century’, The New Cambridge Medieval History 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-Smith (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 94–119 ——— ‘Norman Sicily in the Twelfth Century’, The New Cambridge Medieval History 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-Smith (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 442–74 Lučić, J., Povijest Dubrovnika II. Od VII. st. do godline 1205 [The History of Dubrovnik. From the Seventh Century to the Year 1205] (Zagreb, 1973)

362 Bibliography Lygo, K., The Emperors of Byzantium (London, 2022) Macrides, R.: ——— ‘Nomos and Kanon, on Paper and in Court’, Church and People in Byzantium, ed. R. Morris (Birmingham, 1990), pp. 61–81 ——— ‘The Competent Court’, Law and Society in Byzantium: Ninth-Twelfth Centuries, ed. A. E. Laiou and S. Dieter (Washington, DC, 1994), pp. 117–29 ——— ‘The Pen and the Sword: Who Wrote the Alexiad?’, Anna Komnene and Her Times, ed. T. Gouma-Petersen (New York, 2000), pp. 63–81 ——— (ed.) History as Literature in Byzantium (Farnham, 2010) ——— Pseudo-Kodinos and the Constantinopolitan Court (Farnham, 2013) Macrides, R. and Magdalino, P.: ——— ‘The Fourth Kingdom and the Rhetoric of Hellenism’, The Perceptions of the Past in the Twelfth-Century Europe, ed. P. Magdalino (London, 1992), pp. 117–56 ——— ‘Theodore Prodromos, Carmina historica, I: Translation and Commentary’, After the Text: Byzantine Enquiries in Honour of Margaret Mullett, ed. L. James, O. Nicholson, and R. Scott (London, 2021), pp. 29–40 MacEvitt, C.: ——— The Crusades and the Latin World of the East: Rough Tolerance (Philadelphia, 2008) ——— ‘What Was Crusader about the Crusader States?’, Al-Masāq 30 (2018), pp. 317–30 Madden, T., Enrico Dandolo and the Rise of Venice (Baltimore, 2003) Madgearu, A.: ——— Byzantine Military Organization on the Danube, 10th–12th Centuries (Leiden, 2013) ——— ‘The Pechenegs in the Byzantine Army’, The Steppe Lands and the World beyond Them: Studies in Honor of Victor Spinei on His 70th Birthday, ed. F.  Curta and B. P. Maleon (Iaşi, 2013), pp. 207–18 Magdalino, P.: ——— ‘The Not-so-secret Functions of the Mystikos’, REB 42 (1984), pp. 229–40 ——— ‘Byzantine Snobbery’, The Byzantine Aristocracy, IX to XIII Centuries, ed. M. Angold (Oxford, 1984), pp. 58–78 ——— ‘Isaac Sebastocrator (III), John Axouch, and a Case of Mistaken Identity’, BMGS 11 (1987), pp. 207–14 ——— The Empire of Manuel I Komnenos 1143–1180 (Cambridge, 1993) ——— (ed.), New Constantines: The Rhythm of Imperial Renewal in Byzantium, 4th–13th Centuries: Papers from the Twenty-sixth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies (Aldershot, 1994) ——— ‘Justice and Finance in the Byzantine State, Ninth to Twelfth Centuries’, Law and Society in Byzantium: Ninth–Twelfth Centuries, ed. A. Laiou and D. Simon (Washington, DC, 1994), pp. 93–115 ——— ‘Innovations in Government’, Alexios I Komnenos-Papers, ed. M.  Mullett and D. Smythe (Belfast, 1996), pp. 146–66 ——— ‘The Reform Edict of 1107’, Alexios I Komnenos-Papers, ed. M.  Mullett and D. Smythe (Belfast, 1996), pp. 199–218 ——— ‘The Pen of the Aunt: Echoes of the Mid-Twelfth Century in the Alexiad’, Anna Komnene and Her Times, ed. T. Gouma-Petersen (New York, 2000), pp. 15–43 ——— ‘The History of the Future and Its Uses: Prophecy, Policy and Propaganda’, The Expansion of Orthodox Europe. Byzantium, the Balkans and Russia, ed. J.  Shepard (Aldershot, 2007), pp. 29–64 ——— Studies on the History and Topography of Byzantine Constantinople (Aldershot, 2007) ——— ‘The Empire of the Komnenoi (1118–1204)’, Cambridge History of the Byzantine Empire c.500–1492, ed. J. Shepard (Cambridge, 2008), pp. 629–34

Bibliography  363 ——— ‘Court Society and Aristocracy’, A Social History of Byzantium, ed. J.  Haldon (Oxford, 2009), pp. 212–32 ——— ‘Prophecy and Divination in the History’, Niketas Choniates: A Historian and a writer, ed. A. Simpson and S. Efthymiadis (Geneva, 2009), pp. 59–74 ——— ‘The Foundation of the Pantokrator Monastery in Its Urban Setting’, The Pantokrator Monastery in Constantinople, ed. S. Kotzabassi (Boston, 2013), pp. 33–55 ——— ‘The Triumph of 1133’, John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium: In the Shadow of Father and Son, ed. A. Bucossi and A. Rodriguez Suarez (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 53–70 ——— ‘Basileia: The Idea of Monarchy in Byzantium, 600–1200’, The Cambridge Intellectual History of Byzantium, ed. A.  Kaldellis and N.  Siniossoglou (Cambridge, 2017), pp. 575–98 Maisano, R.: ——— ‘Varianti d’autore in Niceta Coniata?’, Problemi di ecdotica ed esegesi di testi bizantini e grecomedievali, ed. R. Romano (Naples, 1994), pp. 63–80 ——— ‘Tipologia delle fonti di Niceta Coniata (libri I–VIII)’, Storia poesia e pensiero nel mondo antico: Studi in onore di Marcello Gigante (Naples, 1994), pp. 391–405 Majeska, G., ‘The Emperor in His Church: Imperial Ritual in the Church of St. Sophia’, Byzantine Court Culture from 829–1204, ed. H.  Maguire (Washington, DC, 2007), pp. 1–11 Majuri, A., ‘Anecdota Prodromea dal Vat. gr. 305’, Rendiconti della reale Accademia dei Lincei, classe di scienze morali, storiche e filogiche, 5th ser., 17 (1908) Makk, F., The Árpáds and the Comneni: Political Relations between Hungary and Byzantium in the 12th Century (Budapest, 1989) Makk, F. and Kristó, G., Az Árpád-ház uralkodói (Budapest, 1996) Makrypoulias, C.: ——— ‘Siege Warfare: The Art of Re-capture’, A Companion to the Byzantine Culture of War, ca. 300–1204, ed. Y. Stouraitis (Leiden, 2018), pp. 356–93 ——— ‘ “Our engines are better than yours”: Perception and Reality of Late Byzantine Military Technology’, Byzantium and the West: Perception and Reality (11th–15th c.), ed. N. Chryssis, A. Kolia-Dermitzaki, and A. Papageorgiou (London, 2019), pp. 306–15 Mango, C., ‘Twelfth-century Notices from Cod. Christ Church Gr. 53’, JÖB 42 (1992), pp. 221–8 Matheou, N.: ——— ‘Khoniates’ Asia Minor: Earthly and Ultimate Causes of Decline’, Landscapes of Power: Selected Papers from the XV Oxford University Byzantine Society International Graduate Conference, ed. M. Lau, C. Franchi, and M. Di Rodi (Oxford, 2014), pp. 215–30 ——— ‘City and Sovereignty in East Roman Thought, c. 1000–1200. Ioannes Zonaras’ Historical Vision for the Roman State’, The City and the Cities, ed. N.  Matheou, L. Bondioli, and T. Kampianaki (Leiden, 2016), pp. 41–63 Maniatis, G.: ——— ‘The Impact of Financial Institutions on the Development of the Byzantine Economy (10th–12th Centuries)’, ZRVI 53 (2016), pp. 101–25 ——— ‘The Organic Structure and Effectiveness of the Byzantine Fiscal System—­a Critical Evaluation’, ZRVI 54 (2017), pp. 87–115 Markatos, K., Papaioannou, A., Karamanou, M., and Androutsos, G., ‘The Death of the Byzantine Emperor John II Komnenos (1087–1143)’, Acta Chirurgica Belgica 118 (2018), pp. 132–6 Markowski, M., ‘Crucesignatus: Its Origins and Early Usage’, Journal of Medieval History 10 (1984), pp. 157–65 Matthew, D., The Norman Kingdom of Sicily (Cambridge, 1992)

364 Bibliography Mayer, H., Der Turm von Babel: Erinnerung an eine Deutsche Demokratische Republik (Frankfurt, 1991) Mayer, H. E., ‘The Latin East, 1098–1205’, The New Cambridge Medieval History 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-Smith (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 644–74 Mengistu, M., ‘Reconstructing Zagwe Civilization’, Cultural and Religious Studies 4.11 (2016), pp. 655–67 Mercangöz, Z.: ——— ‘Bizans Çağında Balıkesir’, Bitek Kent: Balıkesir, ed. F.  Özdem (Istanbul, 2003), pp. 30–49 ——— ‘Emporion ve Kommerkion Olarak Anaia’nɩn Değişken Tarihsel Yazgɩsɩ’, 1. Uluslararası Sevgi Gönül Bizans Araştırmaları Sempozyumu Bildiriler, ed. A.  Ödekan, E. Akyürek, and N. Necipoğlu (Istanbul, 2010), pp. 279–92 Metreveli, R., Nekotorye voprosy vnešnej politiki Gruzii v srednie veka: XII v (Tblisi, 1995) Miller, D., ‘The Logothete of the Drome in the Middle Byzantine Period’, Byzantion 36 (1976), pp. 438–70 Miller, E., Catalogue des manuscrits grecs de la bibliothèque de l’Escurial (Amsterdam, 1966) Miller, T.: ——— The Birth of the Hospital in the Byzantine Empire (Baltimore, 1985) ——— ‘The Sampson Hospital of Constantinople’, Byzantinische Forschungen 15 (1990), pp. 101–35 Monot, F., ‘La chronique abrégée d’al-Azimi années 518–538/1124–1144’, Revue des études islamiques 59 (1991), pp. 101–64 Moravcsik, G.: ——— ‘Les relations entre la Hongrie et Byzance à l’époque des croisades’, Studia Byzantina, ed. J. Harmatta (Budapest, 1967) ——— Byzantium and the Magyars (Budapest, 1970) Moroni, M., ‘Michael the Syrian as a Source for Economic History’, Journal of Syriac Studies 3 (2010), pp. 141–72 Morris, R., ‘What Did the epi tôn deêseôn Actually Do?’, La Pétition à Byzance, ed. D. Feissel and J. Gascou (Paris, 2004), pp. 125–40 Morrisson, C.: ——— ‘La Logarikè: Réforme monétaire et réforme fiscale sous Alexis Ier Comnène’, TM 7 (1979), pp. 419–64 ——— ‘Byzantine Money: Its Production and Circulation’, Economic History of Byzantium: From the Seventh through the Fifteenth Century III, ed. A. Laiou et al. (Washington, DC, 2002), pp. 909–72 ——— ‘Money, Coins and the Economy’, The Byzantine World, ed. P. Stephenson (London, 2012), pp. 34–46 Morton, J., ‘A Byzantine Canon Law Scholar in Norman Sicily: Revising Neilos Doxapatres’ Order of the Patriarchal Thrones’, Speculum 92 (2017), pp. 724–54 Mortreuil, J., Histoire du droit byzantin ou du droit romain dans l’empire d’orient, vol. III (reprint of the 1843–6 edition, Osnabrück, 1966) Mougoyianni, P., ‘Confrontation and Interchange between Byzantines and Normans in Southern Italy: The Cases of St Nicholas of Myra and St Nicholas the Pilgrim at the End of the 11th Century’, Byzantium in Dialogue with the Mediterranean: History and Heritage, ed. D. Slootjes and M. Verhoeven (Leiden, 2019), pp. 109–41 Müller-­Wiener, W.: ——— ‘Mittelalterliche Befestigungen im südlichen Ionien’, Istanbuler Mitteilungen 11 (1961), pp. 5–122

Bibliography  365 ——— Burgen der Kreuzritter im Heiligen Land, auf Zypern und in der Ägäis (Munich, 1966) Mullett, M.: ——— ‘Aristocracy and Patronage in the Literary Circles of Comnenian Constantinople’, The Byzantine Aristocracy from IX to XIII Centuries, ed. M. Angold (Oxford, 1984), pp. 173–201 ——— ‘Alexios I Komnenos and Imperial Renewal’, New Constantines. The Rhythm of Imperial Renewal in Byzantium, 4th–13th Centuries, ed. P. Magdalino (Aldershot, 1994), pp. 259–67 ——— Theophylact of Ohrid: Reading the Letters of a Byzantine Archbishop (Aldershot, 1997) ——— ‘Constructing Identities in Twelfth-century Byzantium’, Byzantium Matures: Choices, Sensitivities, and Modes of Expression (Eleventh to Fifteenth Centuries), ed. C. Angelidi (Athens, 2004), pp. 129–44 ——— ‘Whose Muses? Two Advice Poems Attributed to Alexios I Komnenos’, La face cachée de la littérature byzantine: Le texte en tant que message immédiat. Actes du colloque international, Pise, 5–7 juin 2008, ed. P. Odorico (Paris, 2012), pp. 195–220 ——— ‘Did Byzantium Have a Court Literature?’, The Byzantine Court: Source of Power and Culture, ed. A. Odekan, N. Necipoğlou, and E. Akyürek (Istanbul, 2013), pp. 173–82 ——— ‘Tented Ceremony: Ephemeral Performances under the Komnenoi’, Court Ceremonies and Rituals of Power in Byzantium and the Medieval Mediterranean: Comparative Perspectives, ed. A. Beihammer, S. Constantinou, and M. Parani (Leiden, 2013), pp. 487–514 Nagymihályi, G., Árpád-házi Szent Piroska: Az idegen szent (Budapest, 2007) Nersessian, V., ‘Armenian-Byzantine Church Relations at the Time of the Cilician Kingdom’, Treasures from the Ark: 1700 Years of Armenian Christian Art (London, 2001) Neumann, C., Griechische Geschichtsschreiber und Geschichtsquellen im zwölften Jahrhundert: Studien zu Anna Comnena, Theod. Prodromus, Joh. Cinnamus (Leipzig, 1888) Neville, L.: ——— Heroes and Romans in Twelfth-Century Byzantium: The Material for History of Nikephoros Bryennios (Cambridge, 2012) ——— Anna Komnene: The Life and Work of a Medieval Historian (Oxford, 2016) ——— Guide to Byzantine Historical Writing (Cambridge, 2018) Nicol, D.: ——— Byzantium and Venice: A Study in Diplomatic and Cultural Relations (Cambridge, 1988) ——— ‘Byzantine Political Thought’, The Cambridge History of Medieval Political Thought c.350-c.450, ed. J. Burns (Cambridge, 1988), pp. 49–80 ——— The Last Centuries of Byzantium, 1261–1453 (2nd ed., Cambridge, 1993) Nicolle, D.: ——— Arms and Armour of the Crusading Era, 1050–1350, 2 vols (London, 1999) ——— Crusader Warfare 1 Byzantium, Western Europe and the Battle for the Holy Land (London, 2007) Niehoff-Panagiotidis, J., ‘Narrative Bewältigungsstrategien von Katastrophenerfahrungen: Das Geschichtswerk des Nikitas Choniatis’, Klio 92 (2010), pp. 170–210 Nilsson, I., ‘Komnenian Literature’, Byzantine Culture: Papers from the Conference ‘Byzantine Days of Istanbul’, May 21–23 2010, ed. D. Sakel (Istanbul, 2015), pp. 121–31 North, D., Wallis, D., and Weingast, B., Violence and the Social Orders: A Conceptual Framework for Interpreting Recorded Human History (Cambridge, 2009) Norwich, J., Byzantium: The Decline and Fall (London, 1995) Novicoff, A., ‘Anselm of Havelberg’s Controversies with the Greeks. A Moment in the Scholastic Culture of Disputation’, Dialogues and Debates from Late Antiquity to Late Byzantium, ed. A. Cameron and N. Gaul (Abingdon, 2017), pp. 104–22

366 Bibliography Oeconomos, L., La vie religieuse dans l’Empire byzantin au temps des Comnènes et des Anges (Paris, 1918) Ohnsorge, W., Das Zweikaiserproblem im früheren Mittelalter: Der Bedeutung des byzantinischen Reiches für die Entwicklung der Staatsidee in Europa (Hildesheim, 1947) Oikonomides, N.: ——— Les listes de préséance byzantines des IXe et Xe siècles (Paris, 1972) ——— ‘L’évolution de l’organisation administrative de L’empire byzantin au XIe siècle (1025–1118)’, TM 6 (1976), pp. 126–52 ——— ‘Les Danishmendides, entre Byzance, Bagdad, et le Sultanat d’Iconium’, Revue Numismatique 6 (1983), pp. 189–207 Ousterhout, R.: ——— ‘Contextualising the Later Churches of Constantinople: Suggested Methodologies and a Few Examples’, DOP 54 (2000), pp. 241–50 ——— ‘Architecture, Art and Komnenian Ideology at the Pantokrator Monastery’, Byzantine Constantinople: Monuments, Topography and Everyday Life, ed. N. Necipoğlu (Leiden, 2001), pp. 133–50 ——— ‘Constantinople and Medieval Urban Identity’, The Byzantine World, ed. P. Stephenson (London, 2010), pp. 334–51 Ousterhout, R., Ahunbay, M., and Ahunbey, Z., ‘Study and Restoration of the Zeyrek Camii in Istanbul: First Report, 1997–98’, DOP 54 (2000), pp. 265–70 Ostrogorsky, G.: ——— History of the Byzantine State, tr. J. Hussey (New Brunswick, 1969) ——— ‘Observations on the Aristocracy in Byzantium’, DOP 25 (1971), pp. 1–32 Özer, B., ‘II. Ioannes Komnenos Dönemi Bizans-Macar İlişkileri ve Sırp İsyanı (1127–1129)’, Ortaçağ Araştırmaları Dergisi 3 (2020), pp. 436–41 Öztürk, M., The Provincial Aristocracy in Byzantine Asia Minor (1081–1261) (unpublished master’s thesis, Boğaziçi University, 2013) Pahlitzsch, J. and Baraz, D., ‘Christian Communities in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem’, Christian and Christianity in the Holy Land: From the Origins to the Latin Kingdoms (Turnhout, 2006), pp. 205–35 Painter, S., ‘Castle-Guard’, American Historical Review 40 (1934–5), pp. 450–9 Papadakis, A. and Meyendorff, J., The Christian East and the Rise of the Papacy (Crestwood, New York, 1994) Papadopoulou, P.: ——— ‘The Big Problem of Small Change in the Byzantine World (Twelfth–Thirteenth Centuries)’, 1. Uluslararası Sevgi Gönül Bizans Araştırmaları Sempozyumu Bildiriler, ed. A. Ödekan, E. Akyürek, and N. Necipoğlu (Istanbul, 2010), pp. 206–10 ——— ‘Coinage, Numismatic Circulation and Monetary Policy under John II Komnenos (1118–1143)’, John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium: In the Shadow of Father and Son, ed. A. Bucossi and A. Rodriguez Suarez (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 183–200 Papageorgiou, A.: ——— ‘Οἱ δὲ λύκοι ὡς Πέρσαι: The Image of the “Turks” in the Reign of John II Komnenos (1118–1143)’, Byzantinoslavica 69 (2011), pp. 149–61 ——— ‘Βυζάντιο και οι Σέρβοι: το ζήτημα των εκστρατειών του Ιωάννη Β´ Κομνηνού εναντίον των Σέρβων’, Εώα και Εσπερία 8 (2008–12), pp. 353–67 ——— ‘The Political Ideology of John II Komnenos’, John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium: In the Shadow of Father and Son, ed. A. Bucossi and A. Rodriguez Suarez (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 37–52 ——— Ο Ιωάννης Β´ Κομνηνός και η εποχή του (1118–1143) (Athens, 2017)

Bibliography  367 Papaioannou, S., ‘Language Games, Not the Soul’s Beliefs: Michael Italikos to Theodoros Prodromos, on Friendship and Writing’, Byzantinische Sprachkunst. Studien zur byzantinischen Literatur gewidmet Wolfram Hörandner zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. M. Hinterberger and E. Schiffer (Munich, 2007), pp. 218–33 Parisanidi, M., ‘Entertainment in the Twelfth-century Canonical Commentaries: Were Standards the Same for Byzantine Clerics and Laymen?’, BMGS 38 (2014), pp. 185–200 Parker, G., The Military Revolution: Military Innovation and the Rise of the West 1500–1800 (Cambridge, 2002) Parnell, D. A., ‘John II Comnenus and Crusader Antioch’, Crusades—­Medieval Worlds in Conflict, ed. T. Madden, J. Naus, and V. Ryan (Farnham, 2010), pp. 149–60 Paroń, A., The Pechenegs: Nomads in the Political and Cultural Landscape of Medieval Europe (Leiden, 2021) Peacock, A., The Great Seljuk Empire (Edinburgh, 2015) Penna, D., ‘A Witness of Byzantine Legal Practice in the 12th Century. Some Remarks on the Construction of the Ecloga Basilicorum’, Subseciva Groningana 10 (2019), pp. 139–62 Pentcheva, B., Icons and Power (University Park, PA, 2006) Petit, L.: ——— ‘Le monastère de Notre-Dame de Pitié en Macédoine’, IRAIK 6 (1900), pp. 25–46 ——— ‘Évêques de Thessalonique’, Échos d’Orient 5 (1901), pp. 26–33 ——— ‘Monodie de Théodore Prodrome sur Etienne Skylitzès métropolitain de Trébizonde’, IRAIK 8 (1902), pp. 1–14 Petrak, M., ‘The Byzantine Emperor in Medieval Dalmatian Exultets’, Byzantium in Dialogue with the Mediterranean: History and Heritage, ed. D. Slootjes and M. Verhoeven (Leiden, 2019), pp. 50–66 Philipsborn, A., ‘Der Fortschritt in der Entwicklung des byzantinischen Krankenhauswesens’, BZ 54 (1961), pp. 338–65 Phillips, J., ‘Crusader Perceptions of Byzantium, c.1095 to c.1150’, Byzantium and the West: Perception and Reality (11th–15th c.), ed. N.  Chryssis, A.  Kolia-Dermitzaki, and A. Papageorgiou (London, 2019), pp. 102–17 Pignani, A., Niceforo Basilace, Progimnasmi e monodie (Naples, 1983) S.  Pirivatrić, ‘The Dynamics of Byzantine Serbian Political Relations’, Processes of Byzantinisation and Serbian Archeology, ed. V. Bikić (Belgrade, 2016), pp. 17–35 Popović, M.: ——— ‘Les forteresses du système défensive byzantine en Serbie au XIe–XIIe siècle’, Starinar 42 (1991), pp. 169–85 ——— Tvrđava Ras—­The Fortress of Ras (Belgrade, 1999) Preiser-Kapeller, J., ‘A Collapse of the Eastern Mediterranean? New Results and Theories on the Interplay between Climate and Societies in Byzantium and the Near East, ca. 1000–1200 AD’, JÖB 65 (2015), pp. 195–242 Prinke, R., ‘Kata of Georgia, Daughter of King David IV the Builder, as Wife of  Sebastokrator Isaakios Komnenos’, Foundations for Medieval Genealogy 3 (2011), 489–502 Pryor, J., ‘ “Water, water everywhere, Nor any drop to drink”: Water Supplies for the Fleets of the First Crusade’, Dei Gesta per Francos: Études sur les Croisades dédiées à Jean Richard, ed. M. Balard, B. Kedar, and J. Riley-Smith (Aldershot, 2001), pp. 21–8 Pryor, J. and Jeffreys, E., The Age of the ΔΡΟΜΩΝ: The Byzantine Navy ca 500–1204 (Leiden, 2006) Pryor, J. and Jeffreys, M., ‘Alexios, Bohemond, and Byzantium’s Euphrates Frontier: A Tale of Two Cretans’, Crusades 11 (2012), pp. 31–86

368 Bibliography Queller, D. and Katele, I., ‘Venice and the Conquest of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem’, Studi Veneziani 12 (1986), pp. 125–35 Radičević, D., ‘Fortifications on the Byzantine-Hungarian Danube Border in the 11th and 12th Centuries’, Fortifications, Defence Systems, Structures and Features in the Past, ed. T. Tkalčec et al. (Zagreb, 2019), pp. 157–71 Radojčić, B., ‘O hronologiji ugarsko-vizantijskih borbi I ustanku Srba za vreme Jovana II Komnina’, ZRVI 7 (1961), pp. 177–86 Ragia, E.: ——— ‘The Inscription of Didyma (Hieron) and the Families of Phokas and Karantnos in Western Asia Minor (12th–13th C.)’, BZ 100 (2007), pp. 133–46 ——— ‘Η αναδιοργάνωση των θεμάτων στη Μικρά Ασία τον δωδέκατο αιώνα και το θέμα Μυλάσσης και Μελανουδίου’ [The Reorganization of the Themes of Asia Minor in the Twelfth Century and the Theme of Mylasa and Melanoudion], Byzantina Symmeikta 17 (2008), pp. 223–38 Ramsay, W.: ——— ‘Pisidia and the Lycaonian Frontier’, The Annual of the British School at Athens 9 (1902–1903), pp. 243–72 ——— ‘Lycaonian and Phrygian Notes (Continued)’, The Classical Review 19 (1905), pp. 413–29 ——— The Historical Geography of Asia Minor (New York, 1972) Rapp, S., Studies in Medieval Georgian Historiography: Early Texts and Eurasian Contexts (Leuven, 2003) Rayfield, D., Edge of Empires: A History of Georgia (London, 2012) Redford, S., Landscape and the State in Medieval Anatolia: Seljuk Gardens and Pavilions of Alanya, Turkey (Oxford, 2000) Rehle, S., ‘Missale Beneventanum in Berlin’, Sacris erudiri 28 (1985), pp. 469–510 Reinsch, D.: ——— ‘Abweichungen vom traditionellen Kaiserbild in Byzanz im 11. und 12. Jahrhundert’, L’éducation au gouvernement et à la vie: La tradition des ‘règles de vie’ de l’Antiquité au Moyen Âge. Actes du colloque international, Pise, 18–19 mars 2005, ed. P. Odorico (Paris, 2009), pp. 115–28 ——— ‘Bemerkungen zu einigen byzantinischen Fürstenspiegeln des 11. und 12. Jahrhunderts’, Synesios von Kyrene: Politik—­Literatur—­Philosophie, ed. H.  Seng und L. M. Hoffmann (Turnhout, 2013), pp. 404–19 Riant, P., Exuviae sacrae constantinopolitanae, 2 vols (Geneva, 1878) Rice, D., ‘Some Byzantine Motifs in Romanesque Sculpture’, Byzantion 39 (1969), pp. 170–9 Richard, J., The Crusades c.1071–c.1291, tr. J. Birrell (Cambridge, 1999) Rios, R., ‘Benedictine Contacts with the Eastern Church’, Eastern Churches Quarterly 4 (1941), pp. 244–55 Roberts, M., The Military Revolution: 1560–1660 (Belfast, 1967) Rodriguez Suarez, A.: ——— ‘From Greek into Latin: Western Scholars and Translators in Constantinople during the Reign of John II’, John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium: In the Shadow of Father and Son, ed. A. Bucossi and A. Rodriguez Suarez (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 91–109 ——— ‘The Sebastokrator Isaac Komnenos: Manuel’s Latinophile Uncle?’, Byzantium in Dialogue with the Mediterranean: History and Heritage, ed. D. Slootjes and M. Verhoeven (Leiden, 2019), pp. 182–98 Rogers, C. (ed.), The Military Revolution Debate (Abingdon, 1995) Rogers, R., Latin Siege Warfare in the Twelfth Century (Oxford, 1992)

Bibliography  369 Roskilly, J., Λογιώτατοι ποίμενες: Les évêques et leur autorité dans la société byzantine des XIe–XIIe siècles (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Paris I, 2017) Rostkowska, B., ‘The Visit of a Nubian King to Constantinople in AD. 1203’, New Discoveries in Nubia: Proceedings of the Colloquium on Nubian Studies, The Hague, 1979, ed. P. van Moorsel (Leiden, 1982), pp. 113–16 Rowe, J.: ——— ‘The Papacy and the Greeks (1122–1153)’, Church History 28 (1959), pp. 115–30 ——— ‘Pascal II, Bohemond of Antioch and the Byzantine Empire’, Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 49 (1967), pp. 165–202 Roy, K., ‘Review of Warren Treadgold, Byzantium and Its Army’, The Indian Historical Review 26.2 (1999), pp. 199–202 Rüdt de Collenberg, W., ‘L’empereur Isaac de Chypre et sa fille (1155–1207)’, Byzantion 38 (1968), pp. 123–79 Ruffini, G., Medieval Nubia: A Social and Economic History (New York, 2012) Runciman, S.: ——— A History of the Crusades, 3 vols (Cambridge, 1951–4) ——— The Eastern Schism: A Study of the Papacy and the Eastern Churches during the XIth and XIIth Centuries (Oxford, 1955) Saeki-Katakur, A., ‘The Porphyra Chamber in the Alexiad’, Paper given at the 23rd International Congress of Byzantine Studies 25th August 2016 (unpublished, from a copy given to me by the author, 2016) Sakellion, I., ‘Τόμος συνοδικός’, Πατμιακὴ Βιβλιοθήκη (Athens, 1890), pp. 316–17 Sandaaker, O., ‘Mirakelet på Pezina-vollane’, Collegium Medievale 4 (1991), pp. 85–97 Šandrovskaja, V. and Seibt, W., Byzantinische Bleisiegel der Staatlichen Eremitage mit Familiennamen, 1 Teil: Sammlung Lichačev—­Namen von A bis I (Vienna, 2005) Saradi, H., ‘The Byzantine Tribunals: Problems in the Application of Justice and State Policy (9th–12th c.)’, REB 53 (1995), pp. 165–204 Saunders, W., ‘Qal’at Seman: A Frontier Fort of the Tenth and Eleventh Centuries’, Armies and Frontiers in Roman and Byzantine Anatolia. Proceedings of a colloquium held at University College, Swansea, in April 1981, ed. S.  Mitchell (Oxford, 1983), pp. 291–303 Savvides, A., ‘Οἱ Κομάνοι (Κουμάνοι) καὶ τὸ Βυζάντιο, 11ος–13ος αἰ.’, Byzantina 13 (1985), pp. 939–55 Schminck, A., ‘Das Prooimion der Bearbeitung des Nomokanons in 14 Titeln durch Michael und Theodoros’, Fontes Minores 10 (1998), pp. 357–86 Schreg, R., ‘Forschungen zum Umland der Höhlenstädte Mangup und Eski Kermen—­Eine umwelthistorische Perspektive’, Die Höhensiedlungen im Bergland der Krim: Umwelt, Kulturaustausch und Transformation am Nordrand des Byzantinischen Reiches, ed. S. Albrecht, F. Daim, and M. Herdick (Mainz, 2013), pp. 403–45 Schreiner, P.: ——— ‘Untersuchungen zu den Niederlassungen westlicher Kaufleute im byzantinischen Reich des 11. und 12. Jahrhunderts’, Byzantinische Forschungen 7 (1979), pp. 175–91 ——— ‘Ritterspiele in Byzanz’, JÖB 46 (1996), pp. 227–41 Seibt, W.: ——— Die byzantinischen Bleisiegel in Österreich. I. Teil, Kaiserhof (Vienna, 1978) ——— ‘Ivan Jordanov, Corpus of Byzantine Seals from Bulgaria vol. 1 (Sofia, 2003), Review’, BZ 97 (2005), pp. 129–33 ——— ‘Ivan Jordanov, Corpus of Byzantine Seals from Bulgaria vol. 2 (Sofia, 2006), Review’, BZ 100 (2008), pp. 819–24

370 Bibliography ——— ‘Some Interesting Byzantine Seals with Surnames in the Collection of Oleksii Sheremetiev’, Byzantine and Rus’ Seals. Proceedings of the International Colloquium on Rus’-Byzantine Sigillography Kyiv, Ukraine, 13–16 September 2013 (Kiev, 2015), pp. 83–96 Shepard, J.: ——— ‘The “muddy road” of Odo Arpin from Bourges to Charité-sur-Loire’, The Experience of Crusading II: Defining the Crusader Kingdom, ed. P. Edbury and J. Phillips (Cambridge, 2003), pp. 11–28 ——— ‘How St James the Persian’s Head was Brought to Cormery: A Relic Collector around the Time of the First Crusade’, Zwischen Polis, Provinz und Peripherie: Beiträge zur byzantinischen Geschichte und Kultur, ed. L.  Hoffmann (Wiesbaden, 2005), pp. 287–336 ——— ‘Close Encounters with the Byzantine World: The Rus at the Straits of Kerch’, PreModern Russia and Its World: Essays in Honor of Thomas S. Noonan, ed. K. L. Reyerson, T. G. Stavrou, and J. D. Tracy (Wiesbaden, 2006), pp. 15–77 ——— ‘ “Mists and Portals”: The Black Sea’s North Coast’, Byzantine Trade, 4th–12th Centuries, ed. M. Mango (Abingdon, 2009), pp. 421–42 ——— ‘Hard on Heretics, Light on Latins: The Balancing-Act of Alexios I Komnenos’, TM 16 (2010), pp. 765–77 ——— ‘Holy Land, Lost Lands, Realpolitik: Imperial Byzantine Thinking about Syria and Palestine in the Later 10th and 11th Centuries’, Al-Qant ̣ara 33 (2012), pp. 505–45 ——— ‘Anna Komnena as a Source for the Crusades’, Franks and Crusades in Medieval Eastern Christian Historiography, ed. A. Mallett (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 25–64 Shlyakhtin, R.: ——— (printed as ‘Shliakhtin’), ‘Master of Kastamon, Emperor of Eternity: Ioannes Komnenos as Border-maker and Border-breaker in Theodoros Prodromos’ Poem “On the advance to Kastamon” ’, From Constantinople to the Frontier: The City and the Cities, ed. N. Matheou, T. Kampianaki, and M. Bondioli (Leiden, 2016), pp. 425–34 ——— ‘ “A New Mixture of Two Powers”: Nicholas Kallikles and Theodore Prodromos on Empress Eirene’, Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople, ed. M. Sághy and R. Ousterhout (Budapest, 2019), pp. 291–304 Shukurov, R., ‘Barbarians, Philanthropy, and Byzantine Missionism’, Philanthropy in Anatolia through the Ages, ed. O. Tekin, C. Roosevelt, and E. Akyürek (Istanbul, 2020), pp. 141–52 Siciliano, J., ‘The Theory of the Pentarchy and Views on Papal Supremacy in the Ecclesiology of Neilos Doxapatrius and His Contemporaries’, Études byzantines 6 (1979), pp. 167–77 Siecienski, A.: ——— The Filioque: History of a Doctrinal Controversy (Oxford, 2010) ——— The Papacy and the Orthodox: Sources and History of a Debate (Oxford, 2017) Simmons, A., The (re)Introduction of Nubia and Ethiopia to Europe in the Crusading Era, c.1100-c.1400 (unpublished doctoral thesis, Lancaster University, 2019) Simpson, A.: ——— ‘Before and After 1204: The Versions of Niketas Choniates’ Historia’, DOP 60 (2006), pp. 189–221 ——— ‘Introduction’, Niketas Choniates: A Historian and Writer, ed. A.  Simpson and S. Efthymiadis (Geneva, 2009), pp. 13–34 ——— Niketas Choniates: A Historiographical Study (Oxford, 2014) ——— ‘Niketas Choniates’, Franks and Crusades in Medieval Eastern Christian Historiography, ed. A. Mallett (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 93–124

Bibliography  371 Sinclair, K., ‘Anna Komnene and Her Sources for Military Affairs in the Alexiad’, Estudios bizantinos 2 (2014), pp. 143–85 Sinos, S., Die Klosterkirche der Kosmosoteira in Bera (Vira) (Munich, 1985) Smythe, D., ‘Why Do Barbarians Stand around the Emperor at Diplomatic Receptions?’, Byzantine Diplomacy, ed. J. Shepard and S. Franklin (Aldershot, 1992), pp. 305–12 Sode, C., Byzantinische Bleisiegel in Berlin II (Bonn, 1997) Solmaz, S., ‘Danișmend Gazinin anadoluya geliși’, Selçuk Üniversitesi Edebiyat Fakültesi Dergisi 14 (2002), pp. 229–49 Soustal, P., Thrakien, TIB 6 (Vienna, 1991) Spasić-Đurić, D. and Jovanović, S., ‘A 12th Century Set of Marvered Purple Glass Vessels from Braničevo (Serbia)’, Starinar 68 (2018), pp. 151–73 Spinei, V.: ——— Ultimele valuri migratoare la nordul Mării Negre și al Dunării de Jos (Iași, 1996) ——— The Romanians and the Turkic Nomads North of the Danube Delta from the Tenth to the Mid-Thirteenth Century: East Central and Eastern Europe in the Middle Ages, 450–1450 (Leiden, 2009) ——— ‘An Oriental Perspective on the Ethnic Realities of the Balkans in the Eleventh– Twelfth Centuries: Michael the Syrian’, Archivum Eurasiae Medii Aevi 20 (2013), pp. 165–238 Spingou, F., ‘Ritual and Politics in the Pantokrator: A Lament in Two Acts for Eirene’s Son’, Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople, ed. M. Sághy and R. Ousterhout (Budapest, 2019), pp. 305–22 Spink Auction 127, Byzantine Seals from the Collection of George Zacos, Part 1 (London, 1998) Staley, E., The Dogaressas of Venice: The Wives of the Doges (London, 1910) Stanković, V.: ——— Komnini u Carigradu 1057–1185: Evolucija jedne vladarske prodice (Belgrade, 2006) ——— ‘Lest We Forget: History Writing in Byzantium of the Komnenoi and the Use of Memories’, Memory and Oblivion in Byzantium, ed. A.  Milanova and V.  Vatchkova (Sofia, 2011), pp. 59–65 ——— ‘Komnenian Monastic Foundations in Constantinople: Questions of Method and Historical Context’, Belgrade Historical Review 2 (2011), pp. 47–72 ——— ‘John II Komnenos before the Year 1118’, John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium: In the Shadow of Father and Son, ed. A. Bucossi and A. Rodriguez Suarez (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 11–21 Stathakopoulos, D.: ——— ‘Discovering a Military Order of the Crusades: The Hospital of St. Sampson of Constantinople’, Viator 37 (2006), pp. 255–73 ——— ‘John II Komnenos: A Historiographical Essay’, John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium: In the Shadow of Father and Son, ed. A Bucossi and A.  Rodriguez-Suarez (London, 2016), pp. 1–10 Stephenson, P.: ——— Byzantium’s Balkan Frontier: A Political Study of the Northern Balkans 900–1204 (Cambridge, 2000) ——— ‘John Cinnamus, John II Comnenus, and the Hungarian Campaign of 1127–1129’, Byzantion 66 (1996), pp. 177–87 ——— ‘Balkan Borderlands (1018–1204)’, Cambridge History of the Byzantine Empire c.500–1492, ed. J. Shepard (Cambridge, 2008), pp. 664–91 Stevens, G., De Theodoro Balsamone: Analysis operum ac mentis iuridicae (Rome, 1969)

372 Bibliography Stevenson, W., The Crusaders in the East: A Brief History of the Wars of Islam with the Latins in Syria during the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries (Cambridge, 1907) Stouraitis, I.: ——— ‘Jihād and Crusade: Byzantine Positions towards the Notions of “Holy War” ’, Byzantina Symmeikta 21 (2011), pp. 11–63 ——— ‘ “Just War” and “Holy War” in the Middle Ages: Rethinking Theory through the Byzantine Case-Study’, JÖB 62 (2013), pp. 227–64 ——— ‘Narratives of John II Komnenos’ Wars: Comparing Byzantine and Modern Approaches’, John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium: In the Shadow of Father and Son, ed. A. Bucossi and A. Rodriguez Suarez (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 22–36 ——— ‘Migrating in the Medieval East Roman World, ca. 600–1204’, Migration Histories of the Medieval Afroeurasian Transition Zone: Aspects of Mobility between Africa, Asia and Europe, 300–1500 C.E., ed. J.  Preiser-Kapeller, L.  Reinfandt and Y.  Stouraitis (Brill, 2020), pp. 141–65 Štulrajterová, K., ‘Convivenza, Convenienza and Conversion: Islam in Medieval Hungary (1000–1400 CE)’, Journal of Islamic Studies 24.2 (2013), pp. 175–98 Sullivan, D.: ——— ‘Byzantine Military Manuals. Prescriptions, Practice and Pedagogy’, The Byzantine World, ed. P. Stephenson (London, 2010), pp. 149–61 ——— ‘Byzantine Fronts and Strategies 300–1204’, A Companion to the Byzantine Culture of War, ca. 300–1204, ed. Y. Stouraitis (Leiden, 2018), pp. 259–307 Svoronos, N., ‘Recherches sur le cadastre byzantin et la fiscalité aux XIe et XIIe siècles: le cadastre de Thèbes’, Bulletin de correspondence hellénique 83 (1959), pp. 1–145 Tafel, G. and Thomas, G., ‘Urkunden zur älteren Handels- und Staatsgeschichte der Republik Venedig, mit besonderer Beziehung auf Byzanz und die Levante’, vol. 1, Fontes Rerum Austriacarum 12 (Vienna, 1856) Tannery, P., ‘Théodore Prodrome sur le grand et le petit’, Annuaire des Études Grecques 21 (1887), pp. 104–19 Terian, A., ‘To Byzantium with Love: The Overtures of Saint Nerses the Gracious’, Armenian Cilicia, ed. R. Hovannisian and S. Payaslian (Costa Mesa, 2008), pp. 131–52 Teule, H., ‘The Anonymous Syriac Chronicle to the Year 1234’, Franks and Crusades in Medieval Eastern Christian Historiography, ed. A. Mallett (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 243–56 Theotokis, G.: ——— ‘Bohemond of Taranto’s 1107–8 Vampaign in Byzantine Illyria—­Can It Be Viewed as a Crusade?’, Rosetta 11 (2012), pp. 72–81 ——— ‘Military Technology: Production and Use of Weapons’, A Companion to the Byzantine Culture of War, ca. 300–1204, ed. Y. Stouraitis (Leiden, 2018), pp. 440–72 Thomas, J. and Constantinides Hero, A. (eds.), Byzantine Monastic Foundation Documents, 5 vols (Washington, DC, 2000) Thonemann, P., The Maeander Valley: A Historical Geography from Antiquity to Byzantium (Cambridge, 2011) Tolstoy, L., Anna Karenina (London, 2006) Tonghini, C., Shayzar I. The Fortification of the Citadel (Leiden, 2012) Treadgold, W.: ——— Byzantium and Its Army 284–1081 (Stanford, 1995) ——— A History of the Byzantine State and Society (Stanford, 1997) ——— The Middle Byzantine Historians (London, 2013) ——— ‘The Unwritten Rules for Writing Byzantine History’, Proceedings of the 23rd International Congress of Byzantine Studies (Belgrade, 22–27 August 2016): Plenary Papers (Belgrade, 2016), pp. 277–92

Bibliography  373 ——— ‘Review of Leonora Neville, Anna Komnene, The Life and Work of a Medieval Historian’, Medioevo Greco 17 (2017), pp. 516–17 Trizio, M., ‘Trials of Philosophers and Theologians under the Komnenoi’, The Cambridge Intellectual History of Byzantium, ed. A.  Kaldellis and N.  Siniossoglou (Cambridge, 2017), pp. 462–75 Troianos, S.: ——— ‘Η νομοκανονική συλλογή του Cod. Cryptof. Zy VII’, Χαριστείον Σεραφείμ Τίκα (Thessalonike, 1984), pp. 453–73 ——— ‘Byzantine Canon Law from the Twelfth to the Fifteenth Centuries’, The History of Byzantine and Eastern Canon Law to 1500, ed. W.  Hartmann and K.  Pennington (Washington, DC, 2012), pp. 170–214 Turnator, E., Turning the Economic Tables in the Medieval Mediterranean: The Latin Crusader Empire and the Transformation of the Byzantine Economy, ca. 1100–1400 (unpublished doctoral thesis, Harvard University, 2013) Tuzson, J., Istvan II (1116–1131): A Chapter in Medieval Hungarian History (New York, 2002) Tyerman, C., The World of the Crusades (New Haven, 2019) Urbainczyk, T., Writing about Byzantium: The History of Niketas Choniates (Abingdon, 2017) Varzos, K., Ἡ γενεαλογία τῶν Κομνηνῶν, 2 vols (Thessalonike, 1984) Vassis, I., ‘Das Pantokratorkloster von Konstantinopel in der byzantinischen Dichtung’, The Pantokrator Monastery in Constantinople, ed. S. Kotzabassi (Berlin, 2013), pp. 23–50 Vailhé, S., ‘14. Adrien’, DHGE 1, ed. A. Baudrillart, A. Meyer, and R. Aubert (Paris, 1912), pp. 613–14 Vilimonović, L., Notes, Structures and Features of Anna Komnene’s Alexiad: Emergence of a Personal History (Amsterdam, 2019) Viscuso, P., A Byzantine Theology of Marriage: The ‘Syntagma kata stoicheion’ of Matthew Blastares (unpublished doctoral thesis, Catholic University of America, 1989) Vojvoda, R., Dalmatian Illuminated Manuscripts Written in Beneventan Script and Benedictine Scriptori in Zadar, Dubrovnik and Trogir (unpublished doctoral thesis, Central European University, Budapest, 2011) Vollrath, H., ‘The Western Empire under the Salians’, The New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. 4.2, ed. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-Smith (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 38–71 Vranousi, E., Βυζαντινὰ ἔγγραφα τῆς μονῆς Πάτμου. Αʹ. Αὐτοκρατορικά (Athens, 1980) Vryonis, S., ‘Nomadization and Islamization in Asia Minor’, DOP 29 (1975), pp. 41–71 Vučetić, M., ‘Emperor John II’s Encounters with Foreign Rulers’, John II Komnenos, Emperor of Byzantium: In the Shadow of Father and Son, ed. A. Bucossi and A. Rodriguez Suarez (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 71–90 Waddell, C., ‘The Reform of the Liturgy from a Renaissance Perspective’, Renaissance and Renewal in the Twelfth Century, ed. R.  Benson and G.  Constable (Cambridge, MA, 1982), pp. 88–109 Van der Wal, N. and Lokin, J., Historiae iuris graeco-romani delineation: les sources du droit byzantin de 300 à 1453 (Groningen, 1985) Ware, K.: ——— The Orthodox Church (London, 1993) ——— ‘Christian Theology in the East 600–1453’, A History of Christian Doctrine, ed. H. Cunliffe-Jones (London, 2006), pp. 181–226 Wassiliou-­Seibt, A.-K.: ——— Corpus der byzantinischen Siegel mit metrischen Legenden. 1. Teil: Einleitung. Siegellegenden von Alpha bis inclusive My (Vienna, 2011)

374 Bibliography ——— ‘Der Familienname Serblias und seine Träger in Byzance: Eine sigillographischeprosopographische Studie’, Studies in Byzantine Sigillography 11 (2011), pp. 35–55 Wattenbach, W., ‘Iter austriacum, 1853’, Archiv für Kunde österreichischer Geschichtsquellen 24 (Vienna, 1855) Wei, J., Gratian the Theologian (Washington, DC, 2016) Weltecke, D., ‘Michael the Great’, Franks and Crusades in Medieval Eastern Christian Historiography, ed. A. Mallett (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 213–42 Wilson, N. and Darrouzès, J., ‘Restes du cartulaire de Hiéra-Xérochoraphion’, REB 26 (1968), pp. 5–47 Wirth, P., ‘Die Bevölkerungspolitik der Komnenen und Laskaridenkaiser’, Byzantinische Forschungen 7 (1979), pp. 203–12 Whittow, M.: ——— Social and Political Structures in the Maeander Region of Western Asia Minor on the Eve of the Turkish Invasion (unpublished doctoral thesis, Oxford, 1987) ——— ‘Rural Fortifications in Western Europe and Byzantium, Tenth to Twelfth Century’, Bosphorus—­Court, City and Country in Byzantium, ed. S.  Eftymiades, C.  Rapp, and D. Tsougarakis (Amsterdam, 1995), pp. 56–74 ——— The Making of Byzantium, 600–1025 (Berkeley, 1996) ——— ‘How the East Was Lost: The Background to the Komnenian Reconquista’, Alexios I Komnenos-Papers, ed. M. Mullett and D. Smythe (Belfast, 1996), pp. 56–63 Wiegand, T., ‘Reisen in Mysien’, Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Athenische Abteilung 29 (1904), pp. 254–339 Wolford, T., ‘ “To each according to their need”: The Various Medieval Charitable Institutions of the Pantokrator Monastery’, Piroska and the Pantokrator: Dynastic Memory, Healing and Salvation in Komnenian Constantinople, ed. M.  Sághy and R. Ousterhout (Budapest, 2019), pp. 195–224 Woodfin, W.: ——— The Embodied Icon: Liturgical Vestments and Sacramental Power in Byzantium (Oxford, 2012) ——— ‘Within a Budding Grove: Dancers, Gardens, and the Enamel Cup from the Chungul Kurgan’, The Art Bulletin 98 (2016), pp. 151–80 Wroth, W., Imperial Byzantine Coins in the British Museum, vol. II (London, 1908) Xoplaki, E., Fleitmann, D., Luterbacher, J., Wagner, S., Haldon, J., Zorita, E., Telelis, I., Toreti, A., and Izdebski, A., ‘The Medieval Climate Anomaly and Byzantium: A Review of the Evidence on Climatic Fluctuations, Economic Performance and Societal Change’, Quaternary Science Reviews 30 (2015), pp. 1–24 Zacos, G., Byzantine Lead Seals II, ed. J. Nesbitt (Bern, 1984) Zacos, G. and Veglery, A., Byzantine Lead Seals I (Basel 1972) Zagklas, N., ‘”How Many Verses Shall I Write and Say?”: Poetry in the Komnenian Period (1081–1204)’, A Companion to Byzantine Poetry, ed. W.  Hörandner, A.  Rhoby, and N. Zagklas (Leiden, 2019), pp. 237–63 Ziegler, K., ‘Zonaras’, Paulys Realencylopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft X A.1 (1972) cols 720–1 Zlatar, Z.: ——— Golden Byzantium: Imperial Power in Komnenian Constantinople (1081–1180) (Istanbul, 2015) ——— Red and Black Byzantium: Komnenian Emperors and Opposition (1081–1180) (Istanbul, 2016) Zuckerman, C., ‘The End of Byzantine Rule in North-Eastern Pontus’, Materials on Archaeology, History and Ethnography of Tavria. Vol. XXII (Sebastopol, 2017), pp. 311–36

Bibliography  375

Web Resources Digital Vatican Library, https://digi.vatlib.it/ Chkhaidze, V., Kashtanov, D., and Vinogradov, A., ‘The Mysterious Seal of Alexios Komnenos from Tamatarcha’, Higher School of Economics Research Paper No. WP BRP 57/HUM/2014 (2014), pp. 3–22, available at: https://ssrn.com/abstract=2471445 Forteresses d’Orient, http://www.orient-­latin.com/fortresses/turbessel Google Maps: www.googlemaps.com In the Shadow of Father and Son: John II Komnenos and his Reign: Event Description, accessed 30 September 2014, http://www.kcl.ac.uk/artshums/depts/chs/eventrecords/2012-­ 13/ Komnenos.aspx Kekaumenos, Consilia et Narrationes, ed. and tr. C.  Roueché (London, 2013), https:// ancientwisdoms.ac.uk/mss/viewer.html?viewColumns=greekLit%3Atlg3017.Syno298. sawsGrc01%3Adivedition.divsection3&viewOffsets=-1607 with translation at: https:// ancientwisdoms.ac.uk/mss/viewer.html?viewColumns=greekLit%3Atlg3017.Syno298. sawsEng01%3Adiv2.o27&viewOffsets=5 Kozlov, S, ‘Byli li pečenežskie sojuzniki vizantijcev«hristoljubivym voinstvom»?’ [Whether the Pecheneg Allies of Byzantines Were the «Christ-loving Host»?] Electronic Science and educational journal ‘History’ Issue 11.34 (2015), URL: https://history.jes.su/ s207987840000954-8-2 Lau, M.: ——— ‘The Battle of Beroia: A Byzantine Face of Battle’, The Byzantinist 1 (2011), pp. 8–9: http://oxfordbyzantinesociety.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/obsnewsweb.pdf ——— The Suspicious Case of the Death of Emperor John II Komnenos—­Cui Bono? Delivered at Leeds International Medieval Congress 2012: https://www.academia.edu/8542942/ The_Suspicious_Case_of_the_Death_of_Emperor_John_II_Komnenos_-_Cui_Bono Negash, T., ‘The Zagwe Period Re-interpreted: Post Aksumite Ethiopian Urban Culture’, Africa: Rivista Trimestrale di Studi e Documentazione 61 (2006), pp. 120–37, found  at  http://www.arkeologi.uu.se/digitalAssets/483/c_483244-l_3-k_negashall. pdf, 16 November 2017 Panoramio for Google Maps: http://www.panoramio.com Prosopography of the Byzantine World: https://pbw2016.kdl.kcl.ac.uk ‘The Greek and Latin Traditions Regarding the Procession of the Holy Spirit. Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity’, L’Osservatore Romano (English edition, 20 September 1995), p. 3, archived at: https://web.archive.org/web/20040903132523/http:// www.ewtn.com/library/CURIA/PCCUFILQ.HTM World Monuments Fund: http://www.wmf.org/project/shayzar-­castle

Index Note: Main entries are printed in bold. For the benefit of digital users, indexed terms that span two pages (e.g., 52–53) may, on occasion, appear on only one of those pages. Adana  175, 198–9, 208–9, 226–7, 229, 247 Al-Atarib (Ferep)  235–6, 241–2 Al-Azimi  28, 206–7, 221–2, 231–42, 245, 247, 258–60 Al-Bab 232 Aleppo  116–17, 218, 221–5, 229–33, 233–5, 236, 238–9, 241, 243–6, 273–4 Alexander the Great  189–90, 207, 241 Alexandretta  220–1, 246, 288 Alexiad  1, 9, 13, 15–16, 42–3, 107–8, 255, 298–9, 302, 323–4, 338 Amorion  181–2, 278 Anacletus (Antipope)  194–5, 244–5 anagrapheus 70–1 Anazarbos  199–201, 208, 229, 302–4, 209–13 Angelos Alexios III (Emperor)  9–11, 312–13 Isaac II (Emperor)  9–11, 15–16, 56, 155–6 Anaia 281–2 Ankyrous 248, 274–6, 277 Anselm of Havelberg (Bishop)  24–5, 196, 319–22 Anonymous Chronicle of 1234  26–7, 61–2, 199–201, 203–4, 216, 220–1, 226, 236–40, 263–4, 268 Antioch  85, 90, 171–3, 181–2, 193–4, 197–9, 209–14, 217–27, 229–31, 233, 241–7, 262–7, 270–1, 288, 303–4, 325, 333–4, 336 Patriarch of  221–2, 242, 244, 265–6 Treaty of  221–5, 233 Antiocheia-ad-Craggum  287–8, 295 Aristenos, Alexios (Canonist)  22–4, 313–16, 323–4, 328, 338 Armenian Christians  214–16, 306–7, 326–7 Army 298–305 Árpád Álmos (Hungarian Prince, John’s brother-in-law)  127–9, 131–2, 140–3, 145–6, 156–7 Coloman ‘the Learned’ (King of Hungary)  80, 88–91, 128, 131–2 Eirene ‘Piroska’ (Empress and John’s Wife)  21, 60–1, 65, 88–91, 140–2, 156–7, 183, 187–8, 191, 306–12, 328–9, 336–7

Stephen II (King of Hungary)  90–1, 110, 121, 128–9, 131–2, 140–9, 152–6 Attaleia  94–5, 97, 195, 201–2, 260–3, 273–4, 279–81, 294–5 Ausones  189, 310–11 Austria  87–8, 91, 128–9 Axouch, John (megas domestikos)  18–19, 46, 49–51, 94, 106, 125–7, 134–5, 271, 298–9, 303, 333–4, 337 Baalbek 241–2 Bagrationi David IV ‘the Builder’ (King of Georgia)  32, 82, 98–100, 110–11, 314–15, 326–7 Demetrios I (King of Georgia)  99–100, 251 Balsamon, Theodore (Canonist)  22–3, 314–15, 323–4, 328 Basilakes, Nikephoros  15–16, 18–19, 22–3, 125–7, 175–6, 190–1, 203–4, 207–8, 213–14, 233, 239–43, 333–4, 339 Belgrade  78, 140–4, 158–61 Benedictine Monasticism  326 Berroia  45–6, 70–1, 102, 106–7, 120, 189, 238, 338 Bertha (Eirene) of Sulzbach (German Princess and wife of Manuel I)  196, 257–8, 263–4 Bithynia  94–5, 183, 247–9, 255 Blachernai Palace, Constantinople  18–19, 45–6, 72–3, 201–2 Bohemia  87–8, 90–1, 128–9, 144–5, 149, 151–2 Bohemond of Taranto  46–8, 78–9, 86–90, 140, 193–4, 265–6, 316–17 Bohemond II (prince of Antioch)  171–3, 198–9 Braničevo 121–2, 140–1, 145–6, 149–53, 158–61 Bryennios, Nikephoros (kaisar, Historian, John’s brother-in-law)  44, 47–52, 57–63, 98–9, 177–8, 337 Buza’ah  232–3, 302 Buzluca 295–6 ‘Caesaropapism’  306, 328 Calixtus II (Pope)  87–8, 116–17 Canon Law  306–8, 313–16, 323–4, 328, 338

378 Index Cappadocia  83–5, 206, 249–52, 254, 273–4, 294–5 Cilicia  83–5, 121, 138, 171–2, 181–2, 193, 195, 198–9, 217–18, 225–9, 240, 243–7, 261–6, 268–71, 288, 294–5, 302–4, 333–4, 336 Cilician Gates (Gülek Pass)  204–6 Chartoularata (imperial pastures)  115–16 Cherson (Crimea)  80–1, 114–15, 249–51 Chios 125–7 Choma  95–6, 279–80 Chonai 294–5 Choniates, Michael (archbishop of Athens)  294–5, 297, 312–13 Choniates, Niketas (Historian)  1–2, 5–6, 9–13, 59, 62–3, 105–7, 120–1, 123, 127, 133–5, 140–1, 145, 147–8, 154–5, 170, 172–4, 176–8, 185–7, 189, 203–4, 210–14, 222–3, 228, 232–3, 239–42, 248–54, 260–3, 265–6, 269–70, 279–80, 292–5, 297–300, 302, 312–13, 332, 336–9 Christendom  25, 193, 243–4, 306–7, 313–14, 316–17, 325, 334 Chronicle of the Priest of Diokleia  25, 31–2, 78–9, 120–3, 130, 132, 144–5, 231, 337 Church 306 Cluny 325 Coinage  45–6, 72–3, 213–14, 338–9 Conrad III Hohenstaufen (King)  20–1, 89–90, 196, 244–5, 257–8, 324–5 Constantine I, ‘the Great’ (emperor)  65–6, 239–40, 316–17 Constantinople  15–16, 57–8, 70–3, 107–8, 140–1, 170, 175–6, 179–82, 263–4, 272–3, 290, 319–20 Corfu  117–19, 125, 134–5 Crusade  4–5, 193, 333–6 Sources 28–30 First Crusade  46, 82–5, 88–9, 160–1, 227, 288 Second Crusade  160–1, 179, 213–14, 271, 294, 336 Third Crusade  115–16, 282–3, 334–5 Fourth Crusade  9–11, 186–7, 272, 290–1 States  85, 236 Cumans  78–82, 99–100, 102, 103–5, 109–15, 333–4 Cyprus  213, 262–3, 285–8 Dalassene, Anna (John’s Grandmother)  201–2 Damascus  231, 236 Dalmatia  80, 90–1, 117–18, 129, 140, 142–3, 154–6, 181–2, 324–5, 333–4 Danishmend, Mohammed  184–6, 223–7, 229, 240, 245, 247, 249–52, 258–60, 271

Danishmendids  83–5, 123–4, 170–2, 176–8, 184, 190–1, 194, 198, 223–7, 247–51, 258–60, 263–4 Danişmend-name  27, 83–5, 302 Danube  78–9, 89–90, 103–4, 111–13, 115–16, 140–1, 143–8, 151–6, 158–61, 273–4, 332–3 De Administrando Imperio 78 Dekarchos 298–9 Devol, Treaty of  47–8, 86–7, 90, 193–4, 198, 222–3, 246 Didyma (Hieron)  281–2, 298–9 Diokleia  78–9, 91–2, 129–30, 132–4, 155–8, 165–7. See also Serbs Grubeša  91–2, 129–30, 155–6 Gradinja  127, 130–2, 138, 155–8 Juraj  91–2, 130, 140–2, 144–5, 149–50, 152–3 Doukaina, Eirene (Empress, John’s Mother)  16–18, 42–3, 46, 48–51, 57–61, 337 Doukas (family)  49, 52–3, 57, 65–8, 71–4, 82–3, 98–9, 299–300 Doux  71–2, 290–2, 297–9 Doxapatres, Neilos  22–3, 313–14, 323–4 Dyrrachium  78, 91–2, 130, 167 Ecloga Basilicorum  23–4, 103–4, 312–13, 338 Ecumenical Council  86–7, 272–3, 316–27, 331, 335–6, 338 Edessa  85, 174–5, 183, 198–9, 222–3, 225, 229, 232, 239–40, 243, 245–7, 251, 264, 266–7, 271 Joscelin I of Courtenay (Count)  174–5 Joscelin II (Count)  198–9, 225, 232–3, 238–40, 242–5, 264, 268 Baldwin of Marash (Baron)  198–9, 226, 232 England  87–8, 325 Eparch 70–1 Epi tou Kanikleou 69–70 Ethiopian Christians  326–7 Eustathios of Thessalonike (Bishop)  15–16, 115–16, 176–7 Eustratios of Nicaea (Bishop)  53–6, 318–19 Fatimids (Egypt)  85–6, 197 Filioque 317–23 Fortifications  33–9, 158–67, 248–9, 272–90, 300, 305 Fulcher of Chartres (Historian and Clergyman)  29–30, 117–18, 125 Gabras, Constantine  83–5, 98–9, 135, 137, 171–3, 175–7, 190–1, 248–51, 254–5, 336 Gangra  45–6, 181–2, 185, 186–91, 283–4, 292–5, 302, 328–9 Gastin (Baghras)  207–8, 217–18, 246, 261–2, 264

Index  379 Genoa, Genoese  86, 145–6, 155–6, 197, 244–5, 265–6 Georgia  82, 98–100, 110–12, 251 Sources 32 German Empire (Holy Roman Empire)  86–90, 194–6, 244–5, 256–8, 271, 324–5 Ghazi II Gümüshtigin  83–5, 93, 135, 138, 170–8, 183–5, 190–1, 193, 198–9, 258–60 Gibbon, Edward  1–2, 332 Government 64–73 Gratian (Western canonist)  313–14 Great Palace (Constantinople)  57–9, 64 Great Seljuks  85–6 Gregory the Priest (Historian)  26, 27–8, 212–13, 226–7, 232, 240 Hagia Sophia  42–3, 53–4, 180–2, 321–2, 328–9 Hagia Thekla  201–2, 288, 294–5, 303–4 Halys (River)  157–8, 179–83, 190–1 Hama 221–2 Heraclius (emperor)  267 Haram (Chramon)  145–51, 153–4, 159–60 Hetaireia 68–9 Hierakokoryphitis (Kalanoros, Alanya)  97, 284–5, 295 Homs  221–2, 236, 241–2 Honorius (Pope)  194–5 Hortokop 283–4 Hungary  7, 80, 87–91, 110, 121–2, 128–9, 131–2, 140–69, 273–4, 302–3, 325, 332–3, 336 Sources  30, 120, 128–9, 131–2, 141–2, 144–8, 151–4 Hunting  45–6, 269–70, 303–4 Iasos 281–2 Ibn al-Adim (Historian)  28, 229, 231–7, 239–42, 337 Ibn al-Athir (Historian)  28, 195, 199–201, 213, 220–1, 229, 233, 235–6, 238, 337 Ibn-Munqidh, Usama (Historian)  28, 236–8 Ikonion (Konya, Sultanate of Rum)  82–3, 92–5, 97–8, 116–17, 120, 123–4, 135, 170–3, 247–51, 260–4, 271, 280, 333. See also Turks Innocent II (Pope)  20–1, 24–5, 194–5, 244, 256–7, 320–1 Iotape 285–8 Italikos, Michael (Rhetor and Clergyman)  15–16, 17–18, 22–3, 131, 175–6, 202–8, 212–14, 219, 222–3, 241, 261–2, 270, 333–6 Jeleč  144–5, 161, 163–4 Jerusalem  85, 116–19, 184–5, 194, 197–8, 242–3, 261–2, 266–8, 299–300, 325, 334–6 Fulk (king)  197–8, 218, 225, 266–8 Patriarch of  56, 222, 266–7

Jewish Doctor of Seleukeia  231 John IX Agapetos (Patriarch of Constantinople) 55 Judges 70–1 Justinian I (emperor)  131, 314–15, 328–31 Kafartab  235–6, 241–2 Kaisar 49–51 Kalecik  283–4, 295–6 ‘Kaloioannes’  73–4, 168, 316, 337 Kamateros, John  67–8, 74 Kapniskerti (Geben)  213–14, 227, 247 Kantakouzenos, John VI (emperor)  292–4 Kastamon  45–6, 125–7, 176–84, 188, 283–4, 328–9, 334 Kastrophylax 292 Katepanate 290–2 Kentarchos 298–9 Kinnamos, John (Historian)  1, 5–6, 9–13, 105–7, 113–14, 120–4, 127, 133–5, 145–8, 151–2, 170, 172–4, 176–8, 185–6, 188–9, 194, 197–8, 203–4, 210–13, 219, 222–3, 238–9, 251–5, 258, 260–4, 266, 269–70, 298–300, 302–4, 337 Kinte (Kundu)  249–52 Kisleçukuru 295–6 Kızılcaşehir  284–6, 295 Komnene Anna (Historian and Byzantine Princess, John’s Sister)  12–13, 42–3, 47–8, 49–52, 58–61, 62–3, 98–9, 174, 201–2, 323–4, 337–8 Maria (John’s Daughter)  47 Komnenos Adrian (John) (originally a doux, then monk then archbishop of Ohrid, and John’s Cousin)  18–19, 22–3, 190–1, 242–3, 266–7 Alexios I (Emperor, John’s Father)  1, 3, 42–4, 46, 48–9, 53–4, 57–9, 65–6, 77–8, 82–3, 86–93, 98–9, 106, 111–12, 177–8, 184–5, 196, 203, 217, 222–3, 273–4, 278, 288, 298–9, 306, 316–19, 321–2, 324–5, 332–3, 338 Alexios (Co-Emperor, John’s Son)  47, 64–5, 123, 166–7, 174–5, 183, 207–8, 261–4, 271, 298–9, 330, 335–6, 338–9 Andronikos I (Emperor)  9–11 Andronikos (John’s Brother)  51–2, 106, 174, 337 Andronikos (John’s Son)  261–4, 271, 335–6 Isaac (sebastokator, John’s Brother)  49–51, 173–7, 183–5, 198, 242–3, 254–5, 267, 308–12, 336–7 Isaac (John’s Son)  261–4, 270–1, 303–4, 335–6

380 Index Komnenos (cont.) Isaac I (Emperor)  65–6, 177–8, 201–2 Manuel I (Emperor, John’s Son and Successor)  1, 3, 12, 45–8, 72–3, 115–16, 121–2, 131, 136–7, 145, 156–8, 160–1, 166–7, 210–12, 217, 243, 249–51, 253–5, 257–8, 260–6, 268, 270–1, 273–4, 278, 294–5, 297, 299–300, 303, 306, 316–17, 324–5, 327, 332–3, 335–6, 339 Kontostephanos, Alexios  132, 138, 144–5, 152–3, 165, 297–9 Konya, see Ikonion Korykos and Kızkalesi  202–7, 288 Kotyaion  278, 280 Laodikeia  93–5, 273–4, 279–80, 290–1, 297 Lembos (monastery)  296–7 Lemnos  125–7, 181–2 Lesbos 125 Logothetes ton Sekreton 67–8 Logothetes tou Dromou (the drome, or post)  66–70 Lopadion  33–4, 185, 254–5, 274, 275–6, 303–4 Lothar III Supplinburg (King and German Emperor)  20–1, 194–7, 244–5, 319–21 Maarat al-Numan  235–6 Manbij 233 Manzikert, battle of  82–5, 92, 239–40, 292–4, 299–300 Marcus Aurelius  1 Mas’ud of Ikonion (sultan)  92–6, 127–8, 131, 135, 138, 170–2, 175–7, 183–5, 188, 191, 245, 248, 251, 254, 258–60, 336 Matthew of Edessa (Historian)  27–8, 212–14, 226–7, 333–4 Megas Domestikos  49–51, 67 Meles, Stephen (logothetes tou dromou) 69–70, 261–2 Michael the Syrian (Jacobite Patriarch and Historian)  26–7, 61–2, 103–5, 170–5, 183, 187–8, 216, 226, 239–40, 247, 253–5, 338 Monastery of Christ Pantokrator, Constantinople  18–19, 21–2, 175–6, 201–2, 271, 306, 307–12, 316, 320–1, 329–31, 336 Hospital of  311–12 Monastery of St John, Patmos  20–1, 74 Mopsuestia  175, 198–9, 208–10, 213–14, 271 Moses of Bergamo  319–20 Mount Athos  20–1, 73–4, 295–6 Muses of Alexios  18–20, 43–4, 46

Myra  201–2, 294–5 Mystikos 68–9 Naples 195–7 Navy  125–7, 134–5, 137, 147–8, 153–4, 195, 220–1, 283, 300 Neakaisareia  206, 248–53, 258–60, 271, 273–4, 300 ‘Nicaean Empire’  272–4, 339 Nicholas III Grammatikos (Patriarch of Constantinople)  42–3, 86–7 Niketas of Chonai (bishop)  294–5 Niketas of Nikomedeia (Bishop)  24–5, 196, 319–22 Niketas of Thessalonike (Bishop)  24–5, 298–9, 321–2 Nistrion 235–6 Normans of South Italy  86, 88–9, 194–7, 244–5, 256–8, 265–6, 271, 333–4 Sources 30–1 Norse Sagas  32–3, 68–9, 106–8 Nubian Christians  326–7 Odo of Deuil (Historian and Clergyman)  29–30, 179, 213–14, 294–5 Oracles of Leo the Wise 269–70 Orderic Vitalis (Historian and Clergyman)  29–30 Orontes (River)  219, 236–8 Pahlavuni, Grigor III (Armenian Katholikos)  24–5, 215–16, 326–7 Pantokrator Monastery, see Monastery Papacy  86–7, 194–7, 245, 256–8, 271, 321, 334–5 Papal Primacy  317–24 Paphlagonia  172–3, 176–91, 194, 204–6, 213–14, 249–51, 278 parakoimomenos 68–9 Paristrion 78–9, 112–16, 158 Pascal II (Pope)  86–7, 90, 316–17 Pechenegs  32–3, 78–9, 103–5, 106, 108–15, 122–3, 181–2, 235–8, 271, 301, 333–4 Pegadia 276–7 Pegae (Priapus, Karabiga)  282–3 Peter of Grossolano (archbishop of Milan)  318–19, 321–2 Philadelphia  94–5, 279–80, 290–2, 294–5 Philippopolis (Plovdiv)  15–19, 54–5, 140–1, 152, 303–4, 324–5 Philomelion, Treaty of  93–5, 97–8, 131, 291–2 Pisa, Pisans  73–4, 86, 90, 155–6, 194–7, 244–5, 257–8, 324–5 Population Relocation  108–11, 114–16, 122–3, 166–7, 213, 216–17, 333

Index  381 Porphyrogennetos 47–51 Pousgouse (Lake - Karalis, Beyşehir Gölü)  206, 260–2, 302–4 Poutzenos, John  67–8, 70–3, 117–18, 125–7 Praitor 70–1 Prodromos, Theodore  15, 16–17, 22–3, 65–6, 103–4, 125–7, 135, 157–8, 173, 175–7, 179–82, 184–5, 187–90, 203–4, 242–3, 249–54, 257–8, 266, 278, 291–4, 328–31, 333–4 protovestiarios 68–9 Ram 158–60 Ras  149–53, 161, 162–3 Raška  78–9, 91–2, 120, 122–3, 129, 133–4, 144–5, 149, 158, 161, 165–7, 273–4 Vukan 91–2 Uroš I  91–2, 129–30, 149, 152–3, 161, 166–7 Raymond of Poitiers (prince of Antioch)  197–9, 201–2, 206–7, 209, 218, 220–5, 229–32, 238–45, 262–6, 270–1 Rhodes 124–5 Roger II de Hauteville (Count then King of Sicily)  194–7, 244–5, 257–8, 265–6, 271, 320–1 Roupen Leon I (Armenian Prince)  171–2, 175, 193, 195, 198–9, 201–2, 209, 212–13, 229, 268–71 Thoros II (Armenian Prince)  83–5, 138, 170–1 Rus  82, 89–90, 99–100, 110–12, 128–9 Sources 32 Sarventikar  209, 246 Sayf al-Din Sawar  233–7, 241–2 Sebastokrator  49–51, 123 Sekreta 66–7 Seleukeia (Silfke)  97, 195, 198–9, 201–4, 231, 288 Serbs  7, 78–9, 91–2, 121–3, 129, 133–4, 149–51, 157–8, 161, 166–7, 271, 291–2, 299–301, 332–4, 336. See also Diokleia and Raška Constantine Bodin (king)  78–9, 91–2 Serdica (Sofia)  140–1, 143–6, 158–9 Shayzar  28, 221–2, 231–2, 235–41, 237, 241–3, 245–6, 299–301, 334, 338 Siege Warfare  301–4 Song China  292–4 Sozopolis  95–8, 183–4, 203–4, 258, 260, 273–4, 279–80, 291–2, 294–5, 303–4 Studenica  163–5, 295–6 Stypes, Leo (Patriarch of Constantinople)  17–18, 320–2

Sultançayır 276–9 Syedra  285–8, 295 Syria  229–41, 245–7, 261–6, 273–4, 333, 336 Syrian Gates  217–19, 246 Tabala 279–80 Tagmatophylax 298–9 Tarsus  198–9, 203–8, 213–14, 217–18, 225, 227, 261–2, 266, 288 Taxiarchos 298–9 Tell Hamdun (Toprakkale)  213–14, 216–17 Theatra, Theatron (literary salons)  16 Themata (provinces)  71–2, 290–7 Theophylact of Ohrid (Clergyman)  18–19, 42–3, 318–22 Theotokos (Virgin Mary, Mother of God)  45–6, 106–7, 181–2, 189, 307–8, 328–9, 338–9 Theotokos Lemviotissa (monastery)  290–1 Theotokos Stylos (monastery)  290–1 Trade  115–18, 140–1 Trebenna 279–80 Triumph  4–5, 12, 45–6, 175–6, 179–84, 186–7, 242, 328–9, 334 Turbessel (Tell Bāshir)  264 Turks  7, 26–7, 83–5, 92–5, 97, 99–100, 113–14, 120, 122–4, 131, 135, 145–8, 170–4, 176–91, 198–9, 209, 226, 229, 240, 246–8, 251–2, 254, 260–1, 271–3, 276–7, 288–95, 300–1, 325, 332–4. See also Ikonion and Danishmendids. Tolstoy, War and Peace 11 Trebizond (Chaldia)  15–16, 83–5, 135, 171–2, 190–1, 248–52, 254–5, 283–4, 295, 339 Tripoli 222–3 Tzetzes, John (Rhetor)  18–19 Urban II (Pope)  86–7, 316–17 Vakha (Feke)  212–13, 220–1, 227, 247, 298–9 Varangian Guard  32–3, 57–8, 65, 68–9, 87–8, 106–8, 298–9, 301, 324–7 Vatatzes, John III (emperor)  339 Venice, Venetians  7, 86, 89–91, 116–20, 124–9, 134–8, 140, 142–3, 194–6, 244–5, 257–8, 266–7, 281–2, 324–5, 336 Sources  30, 90–1, 117–18, 134–7 Trade Privileges  7, 74–6, 116–18, 124–5, 136–7, 196 Vestiaritai 68–9 Vlachs 78–9 Vladimir II Monomakh of Kiev  32, 82, 88–90, 100, 103–5, 110–11

382 Index William of Tyre (Historian and Bishop)  28–9, 42–3, 197–8, 217–19, 221–2, 231–2, 237–40, 243–4, 262–6, 268, 270, 294–5, 299–300, 302, 337–8 Yarbaşçandır 279–80

Zengi, Imad ad-Din  218, 236–8, 241–2, 262–6, 271, 337 Zeugme (Zemun, Semlin)  143–8, 160–1 Zonaras, John (Historian, Monk and bureaucrat) 12–13, 22–3, 48–52, 60–1, 313–16, 323–4, 328 Zvečan  144–5, 161, 161–2