Kirsch27 - You have a point. Like I stated earlier, the Empire's had 2-3 times as many years at war/civil war than peace at this point. That alone is going to tax the hefty mound of gold left behind by early emperors. Add to that a steadily increasing army and bureaucracy, and the state funds are going to be depleted. Unlike Thomas III, at least Andronikos listens to schemes to make more money rather than simply building
without regard to money... will that be enough for future emperors to work with?
vanin - He already got his trait for growing up--he became a Grey Eminence. His Stewardship is by far his lowest stat... its a 9 compared to the 14, 15, and 16 (well, 13 martial not 14 as he had also gotten the coward trait). Coupled with his inflated sense of self, I could definitely see him proposing gaudy projects--perhaps not on the scale of his cousin Thomas, but at the same level of ostentatious. Whether he follows through is a different matter.
Basilieus44 - That can definitely be added to the long list of things Romanion needs from an Emperor to keep the Empire together. A martial, frugal person who knows when to make peace and when to wage war, who has a sensible plan of succession, is honest enough he is loved and deceitful enough his enemies quake. In short, Romanion needs Superman.
TC Pilot - In terms of power, yes, he is by far the most personally powerful. You have very good points though... he's VERY young, and while he's likely the most intelligent Komnenid to hold the throne, his head is popping with ideas that, long term, would strain the state (added to that oh-so-tiny ego of his
). He's got the potential to be what Romanion needs, but potential and action are two different things...
Leviathan07 - Exactly. There's still some 120-130 of narrative before the switch. Romanion's spent the last half century stumbling forward rather than walking sedately, but there's plenty of time for her to catch her stride before she makes the final tumble.
Tommy4ever - Next chapter fast forwards a bit, to when makeup-boy is just entering manhood. He'll be the focal point of quite a bit of action!
Zzzzz... - Considering its survival and thriving nature in this AH, its not really a reniassance anyways--its more a simple continuation, with Greek completely eclipsing Latin as opposed to being alongside it...
Enewald - Well, considering by the mid-13th century at least Bologna and Paris both had universities (Paris with its own building by that point, I think, by royal charter), as well as one in Egypt (Alexandria or Cairo-Fustat, I think), I could definitely see intelligent, urbane, prideful Andronikos seeing the
lack of one in Konstantinopolis as an affront.
Frozenwall - Andronikos is definitely hoping for a case of the American saying "too many chiefs, and not enough indians." Increase the number of focal points of potential rebellion, and decrease their ability to coordinate and become major threats. However, making more chiefs means you can't keep as close an eye on each one...
Vesimir - Not quite.. the Inner Council is more a larger extension of the Councils held by all the emperors so far--we just haven't seen them in story for a while. Basil, Manuel, even Demetrios had one. Andronikos has simply made his larger, and invitation only.
FlyingDutchie - Read below, just because of what you said...
Nehekara - Adhid doesn't have access to any
Bene Gesserit training though. He just thinks he's a messenger from God.
Qorten - On that front (making an heir), he and Cecilia get to work--quickly.
asd21593 - I'm hoping what Qorten says is true. The individual colors were much much nicer.
RGB - Yup, to the Jared Leto question. As for universities--well, they
are a good place to train bureaucrats for the state, and more practically, people who learn mathematics who can teach it in turn to 14th and 15th century artillerymen.
(Not that that's what's going through Andronikos' head, just pointing out early universities had some practical windfalls decades down the line...)
And without further ado, the next update!
“Men are easy to predict. They may bear the markings of the highest civility and convey thoughts of profound reason, but in the end they are all barbarous beasts—easy to goad, and easy to lead to the cliff’s edge.” – Andronikos Komnenos, My Life.
From Victor Sainte-Jean’s Last Glory?: New Questions on the Andronikene Period, Empress Cecilia University, Orleans, 1986:
For many of his contemporaries, the triumph held by Emperor Andronikos I in the spring of 1264 seemed to mark a new era in Roman politics. For the first time since Basil
Megaloprepis, the Empire Proper was ruled by a single emperor who lorded over lands stretching from the Pillars of Hercules to the Levant. During his speech before the Hippodrome that famous day, Andronikos promised a new era of peace and prosperity. All seemed well, even in terms of succession—while Empress Cecilia tragically miscarried in late 1264 and 1265, on March 8th, 1266 she gave birth to a healthy baby boy. He was christened Demetrios, in honor of the progenitor of the Komnenid dynasty.
1266 would bring more than a new heir to the Empire, however. It would also bring the second significant crisis of Andronikos’ short reign—one that was met with the same ruthelessness that came with his rise to power.
The Exarchate of Africa was the newest of the Exarchates, and by far the weakest. It was conceived by Albrecht von Franken as a bribe to get Alexios I Komnenos, Emperor of the then-existant Western Empire, to intervene in Andreas Kaukadenos’ rebellion against Thomas II. The lands to be offered were, however, incomplete—a strip of land held by French Crusaders occupied the lands around Algiers, square between the Principality of Constantine and Alexios’ lands. Holding true to von Franken’s promises, Roman troops invaded Algeria in 1229 under the command of Prince Gabriel Komnenos, quickly defeating the Duke of Algiers and clearing the way for the creation of the Exarchate, which was promptly given to the Princes of Algiers, members of the de Toulouse family.
For some twenty years the Exarchate was part of the Western Empire, until Emperor Nikephoros’ reunion of the Western Empire with its eastern cousin. The Exarch’s then continued, with Phillipos de Toulouse playing his own farcical role in Segeo’s rebellion against Andronikos. However, by 1263, it was obvious Phillipos was dying. The Exarch had but two sons—Phillipe, the elder, and Bertrand, the younger. Both possessed little filial love, but as he was the elder Phillipe was given the title Prince of Constantine as presumed successor to the Exarchate.
However, in early 1264, tragedy struck in Algiers. A suspicious fire burned sections of the Prince’s Palace, leaving the princely family dead, and Bertrand the nearest male successor. Konstantinopolis recognized Bertrand’s succession, handing the still jealous younger son richer lands and a larger army. When Phillipos died in late 1264, initially things remained quiet—both brothers observed proper decorum and ceremony when Phillipe was elevated to the title ‘Exarch of Africa.’ However, angry words and rumors abounded between the two courts.
Then, in the spring of 1266, all hell broke loose.
On April 8th, Bertrand and a contingent of followers were ambushed by desert raiders outside of Tlemecen while returning from a visit to the court of Bartholomaios of Mauretania—rumored had it that the young Prince was negotiating with Bartholomaios for troops to overthrow Phillipe. Bertrand managed to fight his way free, and with the survivors returned to Algiers, convinced that his brother in Constantine was behind the attack. Phillipe vehemently denied the allegations, though he crudely remarked to his entire court that it was a pity that Bertrand survived. Both sides appealed to Konstantinopolis for support—the imperial court remained silent. Many have since speculated that the wily Emperor simply put aside the request.
By July of 1266, not hearing a reply from his lawful lord, Bertrand decided to take matters in his own hands, declaring that Phillipe was guilty of attempted murder on his own person, and thus his titles were forfeit. Bertrand ordered his armies to marshal on July 15th. Word of the plot quickly reached Phillipe’s ears, but the elder prince had the smaller
theme under his control, and a much smaller army. Phillipe brought together what forces he could, while sending hurried missives to Konstantinopolis begging the Emperor to come to his aid against what he deemed a rebellion. The tongues of
dynatoi across the Empire clucked about the de Toulouse boys, as the family’s embarrassment continued.
It was then, and only then, that Andronikos acted.
The Emperor did not send a message—rather he dispatched Harold Godwinson and a special detachment of the
Basilikon Stratos—the
Basilikon Toxotai, Athantakoi, Kyriotoxotai, Herculare, and
Ierusaleyma Fylakas tagmata and support—nearly 25,000 men.
Strategos Godwinson was to carry the message in person—as the two brothers were unable to decide the matter of the Exarchate’s succession amongst themselves, in the name of Christian peace, the Emperor would take the title
himself. The first brother to kneel, Godwinson was instructed, would be named
Despotes of Numidia, a position he would hold at imperial discretion.
The two brothers had already clashed in the meantime—Phillipe, despite having a smaller force, beat Bertrand decisively outside of Rusata on August 4th. When the imperial fleets arrived in Algiers harbor on August 18th, Bertrand had only returned the day before with his tattered army, intending to hold out to the last. Immediately, he knelt, and was pronounced
Despotes by the Emperor’s will. Phillipe was pronounced an outlaw, his life and possessions forfeit. Godwinson’s army immediately marched east, hunting for the former Exarch. Phillipe, not knowing of the Emperor’s pronouncement, heard of the imperial march and rode to greet the force he expected to back his claim—he was summarily arrested, tonsured, and sent back to Konstantinopolis where he was put on trial for treason and executed on November 6th.
Meanwhile, Godwinson’s troops remained encamped outside of Algiers, as Andronikos named his newborn son Demetrios the new Prince of Constantine. When Bertrand rashly protested to a visiting Ioannis Angelos that he, not the Emperor, should be allowed to name the new Prince of Constantine, agents of Ioannis Angelos promptly accosted the Prince and his retinue as they moved through the streets of Algiers on November 15th. Prince Bertrand was arrested as well, as Godwinson’s army quickly and efficiently secured the city. Like his brother, Bertrand was shipped to Konstantinopolis to be tried for treason and executed. The Emperor then handed the title of Prince of Algiers to
Strategos Godwinson, while naming his infant son the new
Despotes of Numidia—effectively placing the region under either direct imperial control (Constantine), or the control of a loyal and grateful subordinate (Algiers).
The young Emperor remained hardly silent on the foreign policy front either. Whether the rumors of a Papal-Frankish alliance had reached his ears, or Andronikos simply wanted to secure his northern flank after the scare of Gabriel’s invasion, the young emperor made renewing the German alliance a primary goal. Envoys were thus dispatched to Pest. On November 19th, as Godwinson’s men secured the downfall of House Toulouse, Andronikos met his counterpart, Holy Roman Emperor Hesso, in Rome. There the two renewed the alliance between the German Kingdom and Romanion, promising perpetual peace and that the two powers would come to each other’s aid in times of crisis.
Most of the Emperor’s early reign, outside of the Africa debacle, was quiet. Only one small problem occurred in 1267—the Prince of Jaffa-Ascalon, one Shamsaddin Grimaldi, decided that he would not accept the Emperor naming himself
Despotes of the Levant, and demanded that Andronikos name a prince, as was the custom since the creation of the Despotates. The Emperor not only refused, but took Grimaldi’s son hostage. Perhaps the Prince thought his distant cousin, the King of Burgundy, would come to his aid, perhaps, as the imperial chroniclers insist, Prince Shamsaddin was mad. Regardless, he declared himself independent on July 5th, only to be defeated by the
Levantikon Stratos by the end of July, and burnt up along with his palace when the
Stratos took Jaffa by surprise storm on September 8th. We are told the speed with which Grimaldi fell made other princes, many of whom had grievances of their own, shake in their boots, and the coin from the Italian Borgias who were handed the principality enriched imperial coffers.
From 1268 until 1271, Romanion knew something that she hadn’t seen since the aftermath of Andreas Kaukadenos’ rebellion—a year of complete peace, with no wars and no rebellions. The princes had been either bribed or frightened into silence, the Danes were still recovering from Azov, the Germans peaceable, the French preoccupied with their impending invasion of lonely and friendless Scotland, and the Persians still humbled—no organized force raised its head against Konstantinopolis. This was a situation the new Emperor undoubtedly hoped to keep, for they gave him time to tackle two of the more important domestic issues facing the empire: the state of the treasury and the size of the imperial army.
When Andronikos inherited the throne, the state treasury had been nearing crisis levels. Years of warfare, both internally and externally, had drained the rich coffers left by the
Megaloprepis. Large parts of Spain and northern Anatolia had been devastated by war. The Emperor seemed inclined to lavish building projects, but shrewdly, we are told, he used vacancies amongst the princes to raise money from merchant families from Italy and Greece for schemes such as the University of Konstantinopolis, or the renovation of the
Augusteon. However, these stopgap measures were insufficient, and more needed to be done. In 1265 the Emperor issued a levy on all cargo entering the Golden Horn, as well as forbade any silk to be sold in the empire outside of the imperial silk monopoly. Arrangements were made for silk coming from Persia and China to be bought by the monopoly then resold on the markets. While these and other schemes helped to stop the hemorrhaging of the state’s finances, alone they were not enough. The Emperor reluctantly cut back some of his innumerable grand plans in the short term, but more needed to be done.
On July 11th, 1268, the same day that his wife blessed him with his second son Nikephoros, Emperor Andronikos announced the first of what would soon be a collection of edicts—the
Nomos Andronikoi. The decree required every
Despotes to raise and maintain with his own funds one
tagma of
thematakoi per imperial
tagma station in his Despotate—in effect, shoving much of the cost of maintaining a standing army into the hands of the nobility, while the Emperor pared down his personal forces. In return, the Emperor promised a decrease in the
scutage owed to the central state. While the number of
tagmata remained the same (Romanos and others pointed out that reducing the
tagmata meant reducing the number of
strategoi, something that would be unpopular with the army), the size of each
kentarchoi was decreased to 100, in effect halving the size of the standing army. By this trade, Konstantinopolis hoped to make the
dynatoi pay for more of the maintenance of the army, while they recouped the loss in income elsewhere.
While the
Megos Domestikos and the
strategoi were well aware of the financial strain the army placed on the state, they would not have gone along with the plan if the
Megos Domestikos hadn’t inserted a caveat of his own—that the
tagma raised by the Despotates had to be paired with a regular
tagma for the purposes of training and war. Two
tagmata plus their paired
thematakoi counterparts, called a
banda, would become the principal unit of the Andronikene Army. Above it, the reforms envisioned combinations of
banda that would join to form regional
taxarchia under the
stratoi when needed. For the army, this guaranteed a slight increase in combat numbers if the Despotates provided the men required by law. For the Despotates, the decrease in size of the imperial
tagmata meant there was a ready pool of people available to man these new standing formations, and more importantly the local
Despotes gained more control over standing field formations within his realm. For the soldiers released from the imperial line, the new
thematakoi tagmata, organized exactly as their imperial counterparts, offered a greater chance at promotion in a new system of ranks. Finally and most importantly, the arrangement generated a slew of new command slots, for both
banda and
taxarchia, that Emperor Andronikos intended to dole out as rewards to those who supported the new program, as well as merit promotions to slow the ossification that often took place in the upper command.
The centerpiece of this new, final Komnenid military were the
Oikoi, the personal security arm of the Emperor and of completely assured loyalty. What started in 1263 as a small organization under Ioannis Angelos and fanatically loyal to Andronikos grew over the Emperor’s reign—by 1271, they already numbered 10,000 in number. Most of these were not the spies and saboteurs known to even modern schoolboys—they were the military arm, the Emperor’s personal guard whenever he travelled or took the field. In 1271 this force numbered the equivalent of three double-to-triple strength
tagmata—nearly 9,000 strong. The remaining thousand were all the infamous
Athloutokoi, Mousikoi, Kronokratoroi and other units numbered. All of these units reported to the
Archeoikos, none other than Ioannis Angelos, who was also intermittently
Megoskyriomachos, as well as commander of the
Anatolikon Stratos.
In the short term, these changes made perfect sense—the reduction of standing
tagmata and the creation of a personal imperial army of impeccable equipment and training to serve as the core of any field army the Emperor accompanied seemed reasonable, rational, and above all, cheap. However, in the long term, the results would be disastrous. As long as the nobility held no standing force to match the central
tagmata, no rebellion could succeed. It would be later, after Andronikos’ death, that his successors on the Throne of Caesars would discover the true havoc the
dynatoi could wreak with standing, professional troops that matched the Emperor’s own, as well as the chaos someone wielding the power of
Archeoikos could unleash…
None of these changes took place overnight, however, and it wouldn’t be until much later that the
Oikoi reached their full power and potential, as well as the
banda and
taxarchia became standard units across the Empire. Emperor Andronikos and the
strategoi began the reforms with the
Basilikon Stratos itself, with the intention of creating
banda, stratos-by-
stratos, as local
despotes were able to marshal effective
thematakoi counterparts. The loyal Despotate of Anatolia, under his friend Ioannis Angelos, would be the first to enact the change. However, the first test of the
banda system would come long before they were ready across the Empire.
For in the East, all was not well.
Stinging from his defeat some 7 years before, Gabriel Komnenos stirred once more. Further to the East, Arghun Khan’s realm, bloated by conquests stretching from Sarai to Kashgar, stood poised on the Persian frontier. The Lord of the Blue Horde, Transoxiania, and India spent years gathering the men and material for his greatest expedition, to do something that no Mongol had done before.
Break Roman Persia.
Gabriel knew of the threat, and had spent the preceding seven years wisely. The Persian army rebuilt from its losses, and then some. Knowing Arghun had designs, Gabriel had resolved to leave half the Persian armies deployed to the East, if necessary backed by the
politikoi. Meanwhile, to the west he plied on the fears of the
dynatoi—covert envoys visited courts from Damietta to Kaiseria, probing the waters, testing fears. Perhaps if the lords of the Empire would not acquiesce to Gabriel himself taking the throne, perhaps one of his sons? No doubt such thoughts danced in the Old Lion’s mind. It was a dangerous game, probing one enemy even while another watched, but Gabriel had never been a cautious man. He likely knew at some point Andronikos would learn of his planning. However, he never fathomed the response that would come…
So Hugues is on the verge of invading Scotland, while a renewed clash threatens in the East. Gabriel plays a dangerous game of his own, as Arghun looms on the horizon. A storm is coming… will Romanion, Roman Persia, and the Mongol Empire continue on unscathed? And the question many of you are wondering…how will
Scotland fare against the might of the Capetian Empire? And next,
The Caliph?, in our next chapter:
