fiery nature of the man: "Most august sovereign, the critical
condition of thy kingdom and the manifest disorder of thine own
household require thy most serious concern; and we, thy servants, and
servants by thy favor, be it said, of the Most High God and of His
precious realm, have come to warn thee, O King, even as the prophet
Samuel gave warning to Saul and the blessed St. Paul to Festus. Thy
only son and our future Basileus is filling this city and thy Sacred
Palace with his fooleries, his stage-players, his orgies, and his
wantoning. The woman whom thou gavest him to wife does nothing to
restrain his vices. Would that we could see in her any virtues of
her own. She wastes the treasures of thy kingdom on effeminate
displays and unworthy favorites. She is forming in thy palace a
party who are alien to thee and to thine; she is seeking to attach to
herself the most unscrupulous adventurers she can find, and is
manifestly grasping for herself the power of the state. She openly
flouts her Sacred Majesty the Empress, and permits her minions to
speak evil of the princesses, thy honored daughters. In private she
mocks at the sacred offices of the Church, and has suffered them to
profane the very altar in her private chapel of St. Theodore.
Chastise her offences, O king, and banish her to a convent in some
distant island, or thy son, thy wife, and thy daughters will be made
the victims of her jealousy, and thy golden throne may be occupied
one day by some paramour of her own whom she has chosen to place in
power by her side."
"Forbear, forbear from such awful words," groaned the miserable
emperor, who sat propped up on his cushions and cowering at each blow
of the monk's words as if he were struck with a scourge. "Forbear,
most venerable patriarch, in the name of Christ, Our Lord, and the
Holy Mother who bore Him. For mercy's sake cease thy maledictions,
and tell me how can I, the loving but the dying father of my
headstrong son, venture to chastise him as a boy, and how can I part
him from the wife he has chosen to wed, and how tear her down from
the high place of state which I have given her myself. Alas! alas!"
cried the broken old father, wringing his thin hands as hot tears
poured down his emaciated cheeks, "have I not striven to train up my
son in every virtue and in princely deportment to make him worthy of
the royal part he was to bear; and this, this is the end of all my
pains and my teaching, of the many tutors and my own writings. And
she whom I gave him to wife seemed so able to bear all the duties of
Basilissa and to understand the great part she had assumed. And this
is the end of our love and our forethought." And the poor old man
wept bitter tears.
"It is not for me, most august sovereign," replied the zealous
prelate, "it is not for us, the servants of the Most High God,
absorbed as we are in sacred things, to offer thee counsel in things
of the world; nor am I skilled in devising machinations of policy to
deal with sublunary intrigues. This most sagacious counsellor here,
the Lord Bringas, or the illustrious patrician Sisinnios, can advise
thee in such things which belong to their province. 'Tis mine, O
King, only by fastings, watchings, and adoration at the altar of God,
to receive such warnings as His mercy vouchsafes to convey to men by
the unworthy channel of His anointed priests. And as one of the
humblest of these servants of the Most High, I tell thee, Lord
Sovereign Augustus, to thy face, thou art harboring in thy palace a
woman such as thy imperial ancestors have harbored of old--an Irenei
a Eudocia, a Theodora--ay, even such a one as Ahab, King of Israel,
once harbored to the ruin of his kingdom and his house." Constantine
quivered and sobbed in silence. And the patriarch solemnly folded
around him his robe of office and slowly left the imperial presence
with no visible sign of obeisance, adding only: "I go hence to my
place in the Holy Wisdom, to partake of the body and blood of Him in
whose sight the kings of the earth are worms and dust. I go to pray
for thee and for this realm and people of Christ."
The patriarch, whose supreme office and reputation for sanctity
placed him for the time on more than an equality with the weak and
yet conscientious emperor, quitted the council, leaving Constantine
overwhelmed with his emotions and the other officials somewhat
alarmed at such an outburst. At last Joseph Bringas, a real
statesman and a man of energy and prudence, ventured to say: "Most
august sovereign, it is not for thy lay servants to answer the
accusations which his Holiness the Patriarch holds it his duty to
deliver to his sovereign. If the words he has presumed to speak have
been put into his heart by God Himself, thy royal wisdom will not
fail to judge. For us, mere lay ministers and thy counsellors in
earthly policy, it is enough to consider what is politic,
practicable, and prudent to be done, for the sake of thy sacred
person, thy family, and thy throne. It is not for us to judge thy
royal son, his Highness the Basileus, but I venture to appeal to his
father's heart if his errors are more than the failings of such
extreme youth. His natural disposition is excellent and his goodness
of heart makes him indulgent to those about him. To put him under
restraint would be to light up a civil war; to assail the royal lady,
his lawful spouse, would involve a revolution in the palace which
would soon spread to the city. A strong hand to guide his youth and
to check the disorders of thy household is all that is needed. The
favor of your Majesty has given me authority in the past. Extend and
continue thy royal favor to thy devoted servant, and with the aid of
these councillors here, we will answer for peace and order at home."
"Intrust me with ample authority to arrest and deport any favorite of
his Highness who may be organizing sedition in the city, and I will
answer for the conduct of the Factions at all times," said Sisinnios
the prefect.
"And the logothete, your Majesty's treasurer," said the chief
secretary, "must be authorized to refuse those incessant advances
which he is called upon to honor, ostensibly for the ornaments and
household of her Royal Highness, but which we have reason to know are
being accumulated for a very different object."
"The existence of your Majesty's empire depends on a rigid
administration of the imperial finances," broke in the patrician
Bringas. "The payment of tribute has been seriously reduced for
years past by the ravages of the Moslem invaders on the East, and
especially by the corsairs of Crete. But the whole of our seaboard
and Asian frontier will be drained of its resources unless we can
restore the supremacy of Roman arms, so much shaken by these infidel
hordes. Your Majesty has one great soldier in your armies. To him
no triumphs are too great to be achieved--a soldier of courage and
genius, that may vie with Heraclius, or Narses, or Belisarius
himself. Need I say that I mean Nicephorus, the Armenian of the
warlike race of Phocas? Place him, O king, at the head of a powerful
army and a fleet of equal strength, give him thy imperial command to
restore the supremacy of the Cross, and the Roman name shall be again
as great in the two continents as was ever that of Justinian or
Theodosius; and Christendom will be rid forever of the accursed brood
of Hagar."
"Well, but this is just what the Lord Akritas of the Eastern Marches
told us," interrupted the distracted Basileus, "when I summoned him
to advise us on our policy in the East."
"Most mighty sovereign, it is what every real soldier has said for a
generation, and what every wise man at home knows to be the truth."
"Have we not made this favorite hero of our armies a grand marshal of
the empire, commander-in-chief of the forces of the East? Have we
not loaded him with honors, appanages, and favors from our throne?"
"And he has won each honor that your Majesty has been pleased to
vouchsafe to him, by saving a province or by increasing the empire,"
said the chief eunuch.
"Nay, but if we place in the hands of this adored general a power so
vast, will not ambition prompt him to turn his arms against our
dynasty in the person of our too careless son?" asked the ever-timid
and suspicious sovereign.
"Nicephorus Phocas," said the chief eunuch, "is the soul of loyalty
and the mirror of honor. He is as utterly incapable of treason,
rebellion, or even disobedience as the archangel Michael beside the
throne of God. Few, indeed, are the trusted officers of your
Majesty's armies to whom I would counsel you to confide such
paramount authority in arms. Nor, indeed, for that matter, would I
like to counsel that it be confided to any of your Majesty's servants
at home," said Joseph Bringas, as he looked at his colleagues with a
significant smile.
"I would not advise the bringing home this great soldier from Asia.
But Nicephorus Phocas may be trusted to be true to death while he is
serving his sovereign in arms abroad. We may trust him even as we
may trust the saints in heaven."
"And do our trusty councillors here present in audience share the
confidence of our most noble lord admiral in the loyalty of the grand
marshal?" asked the Basileus, still hesitating. "Are ye all sure
that when he possesses the collective forces of our empire, he will
still remain servant of the illustrious dynasty that was founded by
our mighty ancestor Basil, of pious and glorious memory?"
"If his power be limited to the armies, and he be occupied in Asia,
we are all as sure of it as the Lord Bringas himself," replied the
three officials appealed to.
"We will ponder and reflect on your advice," murmured the feeble
sovereign, now thoroughly exhausted both in body and in mind. "We
thank you, noble and trusty councillors, for your attendance upon us
and your sage counsels. In the mean time, let the grand marshal of
our Eastern armies be summoned to the Sacred Palace that we may
confer with so illustrious a chief."
Nicephorus Phocas was duly summoned by imperial messenger, with the
official despatch sealed with the vermilion cipher; but he never saw
his punctilious and procrastinating master.
Constantine Porphyrogennetus was now dying. Enfeebled by internal
disease, he was exhausted by chronic fevers, for which his physicians
prescribed the baths of Prusa, in Bithynia. The medicinal waters
rather aggravated his malady, and he turned from earthly to spiritual
resources, visiting the monasteries around Mount Olympus, carried in
his golden litter from cell to cell while he shared the watches, the
services, the pallet of the most famous anchorites, joining in their
prayers, hymns, and prostrations. All was in vain. He was borne
down to the shore of the Marmora, whence the royal dromon, or galley,
conveyed him by an easy transport to the Sacred Palace.
It was a cold and dreary November when the mighty Augustus was for
the last time carried back to the hieros koiton, or imperial
bedchamber, the magnificence of which seemed to mock the helplessness
of the sinking potentate. The patriarch was summoned with his
acolytes to administer the last offices of religion according to the
rites of the Orthodox Church. The venerable Augusta sank down
exhausted with grief and anxiety. The princesses were gathered round
their father's couch, and Agatha, the youngest, was bending over him
with incessant care to smooth his pillow and moisten his lips. The
monarch in his expiring moments asked for his son. But no son was
there. The reckless Romanus had gone off with a gay retinue of
courtiers to hunt in the forests on the Asian side of the Bosphorus,
and all the messengers had failed to meet him. The eunuchs of the
royal chamber, the chief physician, and his Holiness the Patriarch,
watched the last agony of the sovereign. At a sign from the
physician who held the pulse of the dying man, the chief eunuch of
the chamber closed the eyes and covered the face of the dead.
Then, with a loud voice which rang through the awe-struck and silent
chamber, the Patriarch Polyeuctus sprang from his knees, and, raising
aloft the crucifix, he cried: "Go forth hence, O king. The King of
Kings, the Lord of Lords, has called thee to Himself."
At these thrilling words the Princess Agatha shrieked aloud and the
venerable Augusta fainted. The other princesses flew to aid their
mother: Zoe, the eldest, cried aloud for the ladies-in-waiting to
carry the Augusta to her own bedchamber, the sacred apartment of the
empress regnant.
But here the door of that chamber was flung open, and Theophano stood
in the entrance like some fierce and majestic fury presiding over a
scene of carnage. She was surrounded by her own chamberlains,
eunuchs, and ladies of honor. "Bear not the widow hither, I command
ye. There is no Augusta here but one--and I am your Basilissa
to-day. The chamber of the empress is for me, and I share it with no
relict of the dead. Here, carry off your late king to prepare him
for the tomb. This sacred koiton is for my lord Romanus, second of
that auspicious name, most mighty and illustrious Baselius of the
Romans. In his name I charge ye, get ye all hence."
Appalled by this sudden apparition, as if it had been some evil
spirit issuing from the depths of hell, and yet well aware of all
that might be brought about by the waywardness of Romanus and the
malice of Theophano, the family and retinue of the dead sovereign
shrank away in tears and groans beneath the triumphant smiles of the
new Augusta and the mocking menaces of the attendants she had brought.
VI
The Coronation
It was just daybreak on a bright morning of the year 960 A.D., near
the Hebdomon barracks, outside the walls of Constantinople; and a
general movement towards the city could be seen on the shores of the
Propontis. The sun was nearly risen over the eastern hills and was
reflected in the smooth water of that inland sea. The harbor and
shore were covered with gay sailing vessels and boats hurrying
towards the city, of which the walls and towers were some three miles
distant. From the circular castle of Cyclobion, half a mile nearer
the city, were pouring forth masses of troops, both horse and foot,
which were being marshalled in the broad exercising-ground that lay
between Hebdomon and the city walls. At this moment two officers in
resplendent array, mounted on light Arab chargers and followed by
orderlies and grooms, issued from the huge gateway of the fortress
and crossed the drawbridge into the road that led to the Golden Gate.
Both warriors wore the gilded cuirasses, greaves, and armlets of the
imperial guard; their long lances and embossed shields were borne by
their attendants. The elder, a dark and bronzed Armenian of mature
age, was leading the way and explaining the concourse to his
companion, an athletic, fair-haired youth from Norway. In truth, the
young and noble Eric had been driven from his home by the conquering
Dane, and had just found his way to friends among the Varangian guard
to take service with the Byzantine Cæsar. His birth, reputation, and
skill in arms had gained him a warm welcome, and Bardas Skleros, who
was one of the veteran generals of the Eastern army, had taken him
into favor and made him his aide-de-camp. To-day, the
long-anticipated date fixed for the consecration of the new Basileus,
Bardas had promised the Norwegian tyro to show him the capital and
the army which he had just joined and to introduce him at court in
person. The young hero, to whom all this splendor, pomp, and array
were a dazzling novelty, strove hard not to betray by a look his
wonder and admiration; while the politic chief sought in every way to
arouse his curiosity and to fill his rude mind with a fitting awe.
As they rode past the long ranks of troops waiting their orders to
join in the procession, each company and squadron in various
equipments and from different nations, Bardas was received with
salutes and cheers from the men whom he had often led to battle.
"These are our Dyrrhachian Highlanders," said the general, as they
passed the huge mountaineers from the Dalmatian coast in their rough
capotes and short claymores; "and next to them are companies from the
Peloponnesian Islands. Next come the Patzinak foreigners, who have
volunteered for service under our standard. See those giants there:
they are Russ, who, dissatisfied with their own czar, have taken the
oath to our lord."
"Are they all of different race, costume, weapon," said the puzzled
lad, "for they seem to speak different tongues--not one of which can
I understand or name?"
"Yes," said the Bardas, "for the ceremony of to-day they are
purposely chosen from the various nations which fill our armies. All
are Romans, all are sworn to die for our sovereign and august
Basileus. But he never asks them to forsake their own tongue, nor
their own accoutrements and arms, nor any of the habits to which they
have been bred. Each company has its own chief and interpreter, and
the word of command is given in the speech they love."
"Are they not all even worshippers of the Cross?" said the pious
Eric, as he devoutly crossed himself. "Are they not so much as
baptized?"
"Cæsar," said the general, with a dry smile, "is proud to know that
they serve him with loyal faith to the last breath of their life. He
knows that their souls are safe if they die in his service, for his
service is the defence of the Church and the Cross. They have had
their baptism of blood, and in good time they will have their baptism
of water. Besides," he muttered between his teeth, "since these
gallant fellows never converse with other regiments, they have no
temptation to mutiny or intrigue. And since many of them have no
occasion to call in a priest, they are never disturbed in mind by
anything that happens in Church or State."
"The soldier of Rome," said Bardas, with a keen look into the eyes of
his young friend, "has nothing to do with politicians or with monks.
Discipline, obedience, fidelity make up his whole duty to God and
man. His religion is to serve Rome and its divine autocrator!" Here
a shout of welcome and a crashing salute of more than ordinary vigor
surprised the young Norwegian, who noticed the gleam of pride that
lighted up the general's face. "Ay," said Bardas, "these are my own
Armenians, the brigade I raised in my native mountains. Did you ever
see more likely-looking men-at-arms?"
And now, as they drew up near the walls, they saw the splendid array
of the Varangian host, into which Eric had just been admitted, with
their scale coats of mail and their terrific battle-axes, drawn up in
line around the Golden Gate of triumph.
At last the young Scandinavian beheld that mighty range of
fortifications stretching for some three miles from the Propontis to
the Golden Horn--those historic walls of Constantinople which for a
thousand years defied the onslaught of a series of invaders. The
land walls of the city are still, even in their abandonment and ruin,
the most impressive monument of its military skill that the ancient
world has left us. In the tenth century they rose in three distinct
lines of circumvallation, with broad causeways between each line and
in front an immense moat more than sixty feet broad and some twenty
feet deep. Each of the three lines of ramparts, which rose in
increasing height, one behind the other, was surmounted by
battlements, the two inner lines being strengthened by towers, also
crowned with battlements and pierced with narrow embrasures. The
towers of the wall rose to a height of fifty feet above the outer
peribolos, or terrace, which separated the second from the outer
wall. The last defence, the huge inmost wall, rose to a height of
forty feet from the broad terrace which separated it from the middle
wall. It had ninety-six tremendous towers at distances of one
hundred and eighty feet apart, which rose to a height of sixty feet
above the terrace, and thus were about one hundred feet above the
level of the moat. The great inner wall was fifteen feet thick,
faced with blocks of limestone on its outer and inner face. The
entire transverse width of this complicated fortification, not
counting the moat, from the outer wall to the inside of the inmost
line, measured about one hundred and fifty feet. In height the
serried line of towers rose to ninety feet above the surrounding
country and also above the level of the city within.
The young barbarian could no longer restrain his emotions of wonder
and enthusiasm. He reined in his charger and stood awe-struck at the
sight of such a fortress; and, falling back to his native tongue,
muttered some broken exclamations in a mixture of creeds about Odin,
Asgard, Valhalla, and the Mother of God. The wily chief eyed his
young charge with inward satisfaction.
"We shall have ample time to study the fortifications on some other
day; and you shall soon be instructed in all the means of defence
they possess. Some day you shall attend the rampart drill, and see
how the troops are trained to rush along the level terrace from tower
to tower; how the successive lines of defence are manned; how, from
the battlements above, the engines of war are arrayed which pour
bolts, stones, molten lead, and our Greek fire on any invader who
might be rash enough to come within their range."
Eric mused in silence. He had seen the log stockades of his native
land, and had known them drenched in blood and crackling with fire as
they fell before a fierce attack. He had borne arms within the
circular palisades on the Vistula and the Danube, which the Slavs and
the Bulgarians styled their capitals and royal cities. He had even
been a prisoner in Kiev, the renowned city of the Russ, of which the
fame had spread up the Baltic and through the whole Scandinavian
peninsula. But these were but the fastnesses of savages compared
with the vast and scientific circumvallations which protected the
capital and palace of the Cæsars.
"The rebel angels might as well hope to scale the heaven and throne
of the Almighty," said the chief; "but let us hasten on to the court
and the Sacred Palace, for you may expect to see greater wonders
to-day."
The horsemen rode on amid the tramp of various troops advancing to
take up their positions in the city and crowds of country people from
the neighboring villages who were hurrying to see the show. And now
the chief pointed out to his companion the beautiful Golden Gate,
outside of which was posted a company of Varangians. This noble
monument, of which we see the ruin built up into the Turkish fort of
the Seven Towers, was a triumphal arch of the great Theodosius, but
now incorporated in the mighty circumvallations constructed by his
grandson. It was wholly of marble, upheld by lofty classical
columns, and at this date was still in perfect preservation. The
royal gate was reserved for the emperor and his special guests, and,
of course, was now closed and guarded. Our horsemen passed into the
city through the public gate that adjoined, along with the troops and
the crowd.
Once within the city, they pressed on along the Via Triumphalis, that
ran parallel to the sea, a course of some four miles to the Golden
Palace and the Augusteum. The great street was lined with palaces,
churches, colonnades, and public buildings, the windows and balconies
being festooned with draperies and colored curtains, and the roadway
strewn with bright sand and enlivened with flowers and wreaths of
myrtle, rosemary, and laurel. They hastened past the Forum of
Arcadius, with its column, one hundred and fifty-eight feet high,
surrounded by bas-reliefs of battle scenes in imitation of the Column
of Trajan at Rome. Thence they passed to the Forum of Theodosius,
and so on through ever-increasing crowds to the Middle Street (Mesé)
and the Forum of Constantine. This splendid area, in shape an
ellipse, surrounded by two tiers of porticos, with a marble arch at
either end, was adorned with public buildings, monuments, statues,
and crosses; in its centre the Porphyry Column, which still remains
in its ruined state in the heart of the city. In the tenth century
it was still uninjured and surmounted with the statue of the
venerable founder of New Rome. The chief explained to the awe-struck
viking the story of this sacred symbol; and the simple youth remained
dumb with astonishment before such signs of magnificence and power.
As he passed countless palaces, porticos, churches, statues, and
memorials he was made dizzy with the infinite multitudes in the
crowd; and his martial ardor was roused by the sight of the various
troops of horse and foot which occupied the entire line and
restrained the eagerness of the mob.
At the Forum of Constantine the two horsemen alighted, gave their
chargers to the attendants, and proceeded on foot to the Augusteum.
Here the crowds were more dense, the adornments of the streets more
brilliant, and the array of troopers more solid. At sight of the
chief and his companion, all barriers were removed and the military
lines were opened; and with throngs of officials, priests, and nobles
in gala attire, the general and his aide strode on till they reached
the great open space south of the vast church and fronting the bronze
gateway of the Sacred Palace.