October 1067 to January 1, 1068
The following week, I sat on a stool beside the thrones Eudokia and Michael were seated on in the Senate, gazing around at this antique building for the first time. Beautiful marble panels covered the walls, similar to those found in the Hagia Sophia. The well-worn floors still had intricate mosaics swirling in red-and-green patterns that edged multicolored rectangles. Four enormous chandeliers, each with at least twenty oil lamps blazing, hung from the ceiling.
The room quieted, and the senators—there had to be at least two hundred of them—and judges stood in silent respect for the empress and her son as they took their places opposite the spot where Romanus would be held. Everyone in the room sat after Eudokia graciously inclined her head, signifying permission, while Emperor Michael looked at the crowd with wide eyes. Caesar John Ducas and a few of his retainers sat nearby. There were three judges hearing the trial but the primary one was Michael Attaleiates, a man held in high esteem by all for his fairness. Each judge wore their traditional close-fitting red hoods and sober dark robes.
Two imposing soldiers escorted Romanus into the accused’s box on the Senate floor, with two more not far behind them. A chorus of boos and hisses from the usual bootlickers greeted him as he came into view. My cousin’s face did not move from its stern expression at this rude greeting. He stood above average height, with dark hair, tanned skin, and piercing blue eyes. He looked every inch the general he was in the dress uniform I’d sent him. General Romanus Diogenes made a deep obeisance to Eudokia and Emperor Michael before turning and bowing to the judges.
Judge Michael Attaleiates read the charges.
“Romanus Diogenes, Strategos of Bulgaria, you have been charged with conspiring to rebel against the empire, the Emperor Michael, and his lady regent mother, the Augusta Eudokia. You have also been accused of attempting to plot to bring the empire’s enemies, the Hungarians, into this conspiracy, bringing our enemies to the very walls of this city. How do you respond to these accusations?”
The room was silent as everyone waited. Romanus stood looking directly at the judges, his lips pursed and his hands clasped behind his back, before finally speaking.
“I am innocent, innocent of plotting rebellion against this empire, this Roman Empire, that I have sworn loyalty to for my entire life. My loyalty to my homeland is unwavering. What I rebelled against is the mismanagement, the neglect of the Roman people. I served the empire in Bulgaria for over ten years, first under the great general Nikephoros Botaneiates, and for the past two years as strategos myself. I’ve seen the miserly amounts that my soldiers received during those years in Bulgaria that were barely enough to keep them alive, and yet we continued to defend our homeland, our great Roman Empire, from the barbarians who would swarm over our borders, steal our gold and cattle, kill or enslave our people. Many of those soldiers gave their life for their country. Some of them survive but with terrible wounds, wondering how the Roman Empire can abandon them when they never abandoned it. Widows and their orphaned children come to me, asking for the widow’s payment they are due, but we have nothing to give them. What would you have me say to them? What would you have me do?”
Romanus paused and looked around at the assemblage, trying to gauge their response. Many of the senators, well-fed and silk-clad, had little idea what our soldiers lived through for the modest compensation he described. Few of them had ever served in the military, never tramped miles through mountains and valleys in summer’s heat or freezing rain to really know what those men managed to accomplish. Some of the senators had looks of dawning realization, some of skepticism, some of real shock at what they were hearing. They had been happy in their ignorance. Caesar John’s impassive face betrayed little interest in the accused’s charges.
“For all those years, I said to the soldiers that the empire would make good on its promises eventually. Eventually. I did whatever I could to improve the situation, wheedling supplies and equipment wherever I could find some. I kept hope for a better day burning in their hearts, and they trusted me,” he said with an anguished shout.
Romanus bowed his head, his voice cracking but filled with anger. “They trusted me even though I failed them because I could not get the empire to understand that it needed to pay its soldiers and supply its soldiers so they could fight another day, another battle.” He lifted his head now, looking at the polished senators. “So they could stop the hordes from invading our great Roman Empire, something barbarians try to do so often. I failed them.” Romanus gripped the railing and glared around at the crowd. Tears streaked his cheeks.
“My army and I remained loyal despite the shameful neglect. At the same time, news from the east, in Anatolia, kept coming to us. We heard of more and more raids on our once-secure cities and towns there. The Turkish sultans wanted our gold, our cattle and horses, our people to sell in the slave markets. Our women and children forced to abandon our holy Church.” For the first time, Romanus looked squarely at John Ducas. “Surely, I thought, these attacks would be answered, the waves of attacks stopped. But no, no, we heard only of more and more of them. For a while, the attacks were only on the borders, distant spots that some thought were unimportant, could be forgotten. Strange that was not what I thought when Pechenegs and Scythians attacked on the borders my men guarded. My armies fought back those invaders.”
Romanus’s tears were gone, his voice grew louder and angrier. He had everyone’s attention, especially Eudokia’s.
“How was I to know that as badly as my soldiers had been treated, the soldiers in the east fared even worse? That was the only conclusion I could come to based on those reports. Over the past few years, I prayed that the news would report that the Turks had been defeated, defeated the way my armies defeated the Scythe barbarians, the brutal Pechenegs. That the destruction would end. Then came the news about Caesarea, a city over three hundred miles from the border. A city thought so safe and secure that its walls became decrepit because there was no need to fear invasion. A city just a few miles from my own ancestral home. Sacked, devastated, babies murdered, more women and children enslaved, monasteries looted of their precious chalices, their beautiful icons, their holy relics. Their buildings burned to the ground.
“At this moment, I lost all hope that the empire, this great Roman Empire of ours that reaches back a thousand years to Augustus, to Marcus Aurelius, to Constantine the Great, to Justinian, would come to its senses and end the madness of ignoring these attacks. I love my homeland and had to do something to stop them. If that meant I had to lead my army to the capital, and march into Anatolia, then so be it. There was no one else able or willing. I had to do what no one else would.
“So, yes, I did rebel, but it was not against the empire, only against those unwilling to fight for it. That is my guilt.”
His speech had silenced the chattering senators, everyone holding their breath at Romanus’s passionate defense. Many senators, long secure in their palaces in the city, were slack-jawed in shock at the dire image he painted. They had no idea the price soldiers paid for their luxurious and safe lives in their palaces. Most may not even have realized how dire the situation was.
Michael Attaleiates and the other two judges were pale, no doubt wondering how to condemn the one man who was willing to stop the Turks. Romanus’s impassioned defense had enthralled Eudokia, while Caesar John Ducas flushed red-faced with anger and embarrassment. The accusations of imperial mismanagement and parsimony fell directly on him, his dead brother, and Michael Psellus.
The judges called for a recess so they could discuss the case.
Eudokia turned to me and whispered, “There is so much I had no idea about. Constantine never told me much of what was happening, especially when it concerned the army or money.”
“I know. That was his way.” I glanced at Emperor Michael who was chatting with Psellus.
“Your cousin was so forceful in his defense; I don’t know how the judges can condemn him for what he did.”
“Yes, but he did rebel, no matter how justified it was. I think the judges will have to find him guilty. But as empress regent you do have the ability to commute the punishment to something other than execution.”
Eudokia glanced over to where Romanus was being held. He was looking directly at us. I thought at first he was looking at me before realizing he was staring at her. Her eyes met his. The two of them could not stop looking at each other, as though the rest of the world mattered not. A flush rose on Eudokia’s cheeks.
Caesar John strutted over to where we were sitting. He spoke in a low voice so he wouldn’t be heard by anyone else.
“Diogenes certainly made a dramatic speech, but it sounded more like exaggeration and fantasy to me than what’s really going on. Those Turks are nothing but gnats. An annoyance, of course, but nothing more than that to the Roman Empire. When we’re ready, we’ll just swat them away.”
Eudokia broke her gaze with Romanus and turned to Caesar John. She raised an eyebrow, impatient with his excuses.
“Caesar, just when do you think we’ll be ready? I’m concerned about the empire my son has inherited. I’ve met many times with you, with Psellus, and the rest of my late husband’s advisors, and I’ve been told that we aren’t ready. Nor have any plans been made for our defense. Will we have plans before they reach the walls of Nicaea? Certainly before Nicomedia, I hope.”
Her biting sarcasm made the barbarian threat sound worse than I hoped it ever would be. If the Turks reached Nicaea or Nicomedia, just across the Bosphoros, then the situation would be infinitely more frightening. John Ducas gave a sort of grunt of acknowledgement before slinking back to his seat.
The judges did not make us wait long for their decision and were back in less than an hour. Michael Attaleiates rose to read the verdict, clearing his throat.
“The defendant, the Strategos of Bulgaria, Romanus Diogenes, has been accused of rebellion against the empire. General Diogenes has admitted in court that his plan was to bring his army to Constantinople and thence to Anatolia. He received no such instructions from Emperor Michael, the emperor’s regent, Augusta Eudokia, or any other imperial official. He and his army should have remained in Bulgaria. This is precisely the definition of rebellion, which the general admits. Consequently, we do find the defendant, Romanus Diogenes, guilty of rebellion. As such, the penalty for rebellion is execution and forfeiture of his property and titles.”
The crowd of senators began chattering at the decision. John Ducas looked pleased at this supposed vindication of his late brother’s governing policies. But Attaleiates was not finished and raised his voice over the hubbub.
“At the same time, we recognize that the general was motivated by a great desire to benefit, help, even save the empire from the results of policies that, ah,” he stopped, trying to think of the best turn of phrase, “that may have been shortsighted. Therefore, we ask that Augusta Eudokia, regent for her son, the Emperor Michael, consider commuting this penalty and maintain the general’s life, his rights, his properties, and titles.”
Like flowers following the sun, all faces turned to the augusta, anticipating her response. Her impassive face revealed nothing of her thoughts, but she gazed across the crowded room at Romanus. I had tried my best to save my cousin, but even I could not be certain what her response would be. My hands were sweaty in my lap, and my heart raced as we waited for her to speak.
“Thank you, judges, for your thoughtful verdict in this difficult case. I appreciate the wisdom and experience you brought to it, and I agree that the traditional punishment for rebellion would be too harsh a choice for General Diogenes. He spoke eloquently of his concerns for the Roman Empire, concerns that I share as regent for my son, Emperor Michael. Rebellion is a serious crime, but in this case the general wanted only to save us from our own mistakes.”
John Ducas snorted at that before spitting into a corner. I glanced over at him and saw him giving me a black look, as though accusing me of thwarting his plans.
Eudokia ignored him and continued. “Therefore, I have decided to commute his sentence to one of exile to his ancestral home in Cappadocia. He will have a week in the city to clear up his affairs, but he will have to be gone by then.”
I closed my eyes in relief at this. It was the best that could be expected for Romanus, but the situation in the east would remain chaotic.
Eudokia went about her usual duties over the next few days but appeared distracted, her mind elsewhere. She asked people to repeat themselves, often staring dreamily out the window.
The day before Romanus had to leave Byzantium he was announced as a visitor. He swept into Eudokia’s receiving rooms dressed in a green wool tunic, breeches, and traveling boots, a heavy winter cloak on his shoulders. He knelt before the empress, looking directly up at her. His face was flushed, his eyes intense.
“Your Majesty, I want to express my sincerest gratitude for the mercy you showed me in commuting my sentence. You should understand I would never have harmed you or your children. I was desperate to stop the destruction raining on the empire, and I believed I had no other choice. Please forgive my error. I hope you will someday find me useful in turning back these invaders.”
My cousin had Eudokia’s full attention. Her lips parted with a radiant smile.
“General Diogenes, your efforts on behalf of the empire have been noted, and we are grateful for them. We believe the Turks will only be stopped if the empire musters its forces and defeats them. At present, we appear to be sorely lacking in qualified leaders, so it may not be long before we will call upon you. How long will it take you to return home?”
The two of them spoke for a few more minutes but I had heard—and seen—enough. I thought it would not be long before she would find a reason for Romanus to be summoned back to Constantinople.
Turkish attacks continued but on a smaller scale over the next few weeks. I sat beside Eudokia as her companion when she met with Caesar John, Psellus, and the other advisors who dithered about what to do. John Ducas had never commanded an army, nor was he inclined to leave the luxuries of the city. The neglect of the army for almost seven years meant that the best soldiers had retired or resigned in disgust. The soldiers sent east, with the exception of the critical dux of Antioch, Nikephoros Botaneiates, had little experience with major military actions. Any town fortunate to have strong walls could hold back the Turks, but the surrounding countryside would be denuded of everything of value, leaving the residents with nothing to live on.
They really had no one left to call on except for Romanus Diogenes.
Eudokia and I returned one afternoon to her rooms after another frustrating meeting.
“Those men have no idea what to do. They try to tell me that the attacks aren’t so bad. Do they think I’m an idiot?” she asked while pacing the room. “I see refugees streaming into the city, I see the taxes paid to the treasury dropping to nothing from more and more parts of the empire. Do they think the Turks will magically stop? What kind of a mother would I be if I left an empire like that for my son?”
“What do you want to do?” I asked, knowing the answer.
She gave me an earnest look. “I think we should ask Romanus to return. I want him to assume command of the army in the east.”
I waited a long moment before answering, giving thought to my words.
“In the past, when an empress ruled as regent for her son but needed a strong general to fight the empire’s wars, it was often thought wise that the empress marry the general. Otherwise, that general might decide to take the throne for himself and eliminate the legitimate heirs. He would have obligations to the boy as stepfather that would not permit killing the child or sending him to a monastery. Emperor Basil’s mother did that,” I reminded her.
Eudokia nodded, eyes wide.
“In your case, your husband made you promise on his deathbed not to remarry. An oath before the patriarch, senators, and Caesar John. It would be difficult for you to be released from such an oath or to get the senators to agree to it. John Ducas would likely not be happy about it. He could make it difficult. At the same time, it would be the best way to guarantee Romanus’s loyalty. You have to resolve those issues if you decide it best to marry again.”
I paused to let the full meaning of my words become clear. “What do you want to do?”
“I. . .I am willing to marry again if I can be released from my oath. I would do it for my son, for Michael. But do you think,” she hesitated, her face flushed, “do you think your cousin would be willing to marry me? I wouldn’t want to force him to.”
I looked at her. Even in her late thirties with six children, she was still a lovely woman, an empress who would make whomever she married an emperor. Any man would be pleased at such an offer. Recalling how Romanus had looked at her, I doubted he would feel forced.
“I think he would be eager to consider your proposal. But we will have to consider how to present it to your counselors—and the patriarch since he’ll be the one to release you from your oath. That will be the difficult part.”
The days grew shorter and the weather colder as the weeks of Advent moved toward the Feast of the Nativity. A letter was sent to Romanus with instructions that he should return to the capital. I included a short note of my own to allay any suspicions he might have. Eudokia was anxious to see him again but as the weeks passed and the north winds blew in cold and snowy, no word came.
Eudokia grew more forceful with her counselors, insisting that the borderlands increase their soldiers, that there should be retaliation against the Turks. She embarrassed these men whose passive attitudes had allowed the realm to reach such a state. She discussed with them who should lead the army, how many men, what supplies should be sent, where the money would come from. She got them to finally stop ignoring the problem, although their efforts were feeble.
The morning of the Nativity dawned cold and clear, a crystal-blue sky with frost everywhere. The imperial procession from the palace to the Hagia Sophia began, the eunuch choir at the head, followed by the senators, Caesar John, then courtiers such as myself, and lastly Eudokia, Emperor Michael, and Michael’s wife, Marie of Alania. We were almost to the Hagia Sophia for the service when a travel-stained figure pushed through to the front of the crowd and raised a hand in greeting.
Romanus had arrived.
Eudokia’s conversations with her advisors intensified, emphasizing the need to field an army against the Turks by spring. Who would lead the army? The choices were appallingly few—only Nikephoros Botaneiates, already an old man nearing seventy, or Romanus. The empire had soldiers, but there were no others with the tested experience they had battling invasions. Eudokia asked her counselors a question.
“How can I be sure that either of them would stay loyal and not push my son aside?”
The men looked around the table at each other, tugging on their gray beards, making gruff sounds in their throats. Finally, one of them spoke the words Eudokia wanted them to admit.
“The usual way would be for you to marry him,” said one.
She looked down the table, gauging how best to lead them where she wanted them.
“How could I marry him if I swore an oath to my late husband, before all of you here and the patriarch, that I would not remarry?”
The rest of this submissive group looked to Caesar John to express his opinion before daring to voice their own. I sat by Eudokia’s side, her lady companion, watching his face contort as he considered his options. He recalled his brother’s dying wish that his wife never remarry, but even he recognized that the empire needed a strong military leader. He knew what coins the treasury held, he knew what pitiful taxes were flowing into it, he knew that desperate and destitute souls were flooding the city.
“I could speak to the patriarch, get his approval to free you from that obligation,” he said grumpily.
“Speak to him today, if possible,” Eudokia said. “The other question is which of these two men I should wed.”
One of the men, Basil Trachaneiotes, spoke up.
“I prefer Botaneiates. A strong general, proven experience, wife died last year.”
“Yes, he has valuable abilities,” Eudokia agreed. “But he’s defending Antioch. This time of year, it could be months before he could arrive here. That would not leave him enough time to assemble an army before spring, and we need to do something about the Turks now. I believe General Diogenes is in the city now.”
“Well, they’re both good leaders, makes no difference to me which one you marry so long as they do the job,” said Trachaneiotes. The other men around the table, except for John Ducas, nodded agreement.
John Ducas glanced at the other councilors, gauging what they wanted. Eventually, even he nodded in agreement.
“I’ll visit the patriarch to see what he’s willing to do.”
It took a couple of days, but by December 31 Caesar John had convinced the patriarch to consent to freeing Eudokia from her vow not to remarry. John Ducas did have to intimate that Eudokia might be willing to marry the patriarch’s wastrel brother to gain his consent, but later her other counselors did away with that suggestion, and they all soon agreed it would have to be Romanus Diogenes.
Romanus entered the Great Palace in his full military regalia that night while most of the world slept and a light snow fell on the city. It was after midnight when he greeted Eudokia who stood in a candlelit chapel with a priest, waiting for him. He fell to his knees before her.
“Your Majesty, Eudokia, I promise you my life, my affections, and my sword, so that I may protect you, our family, and this great empire.” He stopped and looked up at her shining face.
“I promise you will never regret your choice of me as your husband.”