Volume 1: Chapter I
As mentioned in my preface, I have termed this era of the Roman Empire as the “Late Period” starting after the crusader defeat at the Battle of Varna, 10 November 1444 AD. Hitherto, I will not explain why I have created the terminology; if you’re interested you may return back to the preface and read the second paragraph which explains this.
The Empire of Rome, I confess, is a very poor choice of name at this time in its storied history. While it had some legitimate claims in calling itself the continued empire as founded by Augustus Caesar, the territories under the control of the emperor, who was based in the imperial city of Constantinople, did not extend much beyond the walls of the city. While the claimed authority also presided over the Peloponnese Peninsula, this territory was under the authority of the μέγας δομέστικος - megas domestikos, or Great Domestic, who was Constantine Palaiologos, the eighth child of the Emperor Manuel II and brother to the Emperor John VIII. Additionally, there was unfinished business with the Komnenos Family, who continued to style themselves as the true successors and emperors of Rome, although their authority did not extend much beyond the mountains fortress they called their home (to a certain degree, their claim was perhaps more legitimate from a purely lineage standpoint, since they were related, although by very distantly, to the great emperors of the Komnenos Dynasty of the eleventh and twelfth centuries).
The Emperor John, who was still contemplating how to deal with the more immediate Mohammedan threat, posed by the Sultan of the Turks, called upon his younger brother, the Great Domestic of Morea, to mobilize the Imperial army to bring the Komnenians back into line. While John initially thought to restore Imperial authority to Trebizond via diplomacy, the ruling emperor of Trebizond, John IV Komnenos, rejected all attempts by John to reunify the two “empires” under a single authority that would be headed by a Palaiologoi. Instead, John IV of Trebizond insulted John VIII of Constantinople by writing him that if he would be so kind, as to acknowledge the claims of the Komnenos Family as being the true legacies of the Roman emperor, and therefore subject himself to Komnenian authority – then single authority could be restored. This of course, was something that John VIII would never accept.
Thus, Constantine Palaiologos, Great Domestic of the Morea and Captain of the Imperial Army, gathered his forces at the Golden Horn to be transported by the Roman fleet into the Black Sea and catch the pretender Komnenos off guard. Naturally however, it would be inappropriate to call this Roman Army much of an army, or their fleet, much of a navy. The Imperial Palaiologan Army numbered just 6,000 men, and their navy was not at all impressive, totaling nine proper vessels. As a result, fishing vessels and other small boats were confiscated to transport the 4,000 men under Constantine’s command into the Black Sea for their prospective invasion of Trebizond.
During the nativity of the Lord, the Imperial Army left the Golden Horn for the Black Sea, destined for the beaches of Trebizond, hoping to catch the army of Trebizond by surprise (it is also appropriate to jeer at the suggestion that the emperor of Trebizond had an army under his rule – his “imperial army” was half that of Romans, although – due to naval neglect, the sizes of both armies that would eventual meet in the mountains of eastern Anatolia were of almost equal size. The journey across the Black Sea took a devastating toll on some of the men. Those who were not fortunate enough to be transported on one of the nine Roman warships, those poor souls being transported by fishing boats and other small pieces of wood that would make any Englishman snicker at the suggestion that a two-by-four would be called a ship, had to hug the shoreline during the entire expedition. Even at that, some of the fishing boats were lost, and several hundred men drowned on the journey. A young Roman soldier wrote, “I can finally understand how poor Odysseus must have felt during his return from Troy. If Poseidon does exist, then I shall pray to the Lord he is kept contained until our safe passage to the shores of Trebizond.”
A more contemporary painting of the Golden Horn at sunset. The Horn was considered to be, along with St. Peter and Paul's Square in Rome, among the most majestic and beautiful places in the entire world. It still is, to a certain degree, true today.
This letter is most interesting for three reasons. First, the soldier mentions Odysseus, the main character in Homer’s Odyssey – meaning that some of the Greek classics were still distributed and read even among the lower classes of Romans, whom this soldier probably was part of. In comparison, the “more advanced” Latins were still slumbering in the darkness when it came to reading anything of literary merit. Second, the soldier calls into question a Pagan deity. This seemingly gives some meritorious concern that many Protestants had – in claiming that the Catholic and Eastern Churches had been infiltrated by Pagan traditions – and that their attempts to “purify” the Church of Christ were therefore valid. However, it should not come as much surprise that – under the circumstances, with the Romans actually having read the classics of Homer, in which the Olympian gods are central characters aiding the heroic Greeks in their struggle against the Trojans, would have made such references to them – whether they had any sincere belief in their existence or not cannot be established. Third, the soldier again shows the importance of religious piety by praying to the Lord, Christ, for safe passage until they reach their destination (upon which he probably would pray again for deliverance in battle).
In early 1445 AD, the Roman navy had made headway to the beaches of Trebizond and had landed on the soft sands of the of the pretending successors of Caesar, Augustus, Trajan, and Constantine. This move caught the Komnenian Army of Trebizond completely by surprise. The Emperor John IV of Trebizond fled the city with his wife and mistress, making safe passage into the mountains and fleeing to the Kingdom of Georgia – where he would court the King to help him push back the Roman army from the only real city of importance under his dominion. However, the Komnenian Army, which was not as frightened as their emperor, gathered to do battle with the Romans (if not to do anything but show the “pretender” Romans who were the “true” Romans). The Battle of Trebizond was about to begin, and the final question as to whom held the true title of Caesar, was about to be determined after 200 years of petty rivalry, jealousy, and formal confusion as to which of the noble families that had escaped the sack of Constantinople more than 200 years ago, could truly call themselves Emperor of the Romans.
The sight of the Roman army at the beaches of Trebizond should not be stylized as something romantic, mythological, or even heroic. It would have been more like a band of brigands had arrived than an actual army. Had the Romans been fighting anyone else, perhaps one could look back at the siege of Trebizond with some sense of pride, encouragement, or audacity on the part of the Romans – but any such notions would be untrue. Even so, the army that claimed to be the scions of the legions of Scipio Africanus and Julius Caesar would had borne little resemblance to the fighting machines that fought in the Punic Wars or during Caesar’s Conquest of the Gallic tribes – in fact, those two model armies of the Republic would have had little resemblance to one another, so for the Romans to claim that their forces still resembled what was, for a great deal of time, the most effective military in the world, seems dubious.
The morale of the Imperial army was lackluster at best, but having experienced two-and-a-half centuries of defeat after defeat, it is a miraculous feat that the army decided to fight after journeying out of the Golden Horn, across the Black Sea, and landing at the beaches of Trebizond. The fighting style of the Romans had changed little since the composition and tactics of the Komnenian Army of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, another reason that precipitated their military decline after the Palaiologoi Restoration. One tradition that was however, remarkably similar to the legions of Caesar was the bearing of the Imperial regalia at the head columns of the Roman fighting force.
Although, since the adoption of Christianity as the state religion of the empire, the traditional Eagle and Banner markers indicating the Legion number had long been forgotten, replaced by flags bearing the face of the Son of God or the Virgin Mother – the same idea held true. The Roman army therefore, as it composed itself and marched toward the city of Trebizond, had in the foreground of the marching column the Tetragrammic cross, a red colored flag separated into four squares by a yellow cross – with each square bearing the Greek letter beta in each corner. The composition of the letter beta in the four corners roughly denoted the phrase, “King of Kings, the ruler of other kings.” This motto was inherited by the old empire of Constantine, and was unmistakably Roman in its origin (conversely it may have been of Persian origins). Therefore, to see a red-stained flag, presumably the blood of the martyrs past, with beta, beta, beta, beta, marching toward you – that generally meant one should cower in fear at the approaching army. In this case, neither the phrase, nor the general reaction would seem appropriate.
The famous Roman flag, with the phrase Βασιλεὺς βασιλέων βασιλεύων βασιλεύουσιν, hence the betas, roughly denoting the phrase, "King of Kings, the ruler of other kings."
The “King of Kings” was isolated to the confines of a single city. In fact, upon John VIII’s return from Italy – he never again left the walls of Constantinople. Furthermore, this King of Rome did not rule over or demand tribute from other kings, let alone was he the King of Rome, as the motto implies; the reverse was true, the King of Kings was being ruled over by other kings and often had to pay them tribute just for his own survival. Lastly, the vaunted war machines of Caesar, Titus, and Constantine would have been ashamed that an army that hadn’t seen a notable victory in over two centuries had the audacity to call itself the Army of Rome, let alone the heir to the Roman Legion. Instead of fear, for many centuries, a Roman army marching toward you meant victory was imminent for your forces, not Rome’s.
Despite so much against the Roman army, it had one great advantage in its arsenal, Constantine Palaiologos, who was, for his time, a very fine commander – given the circumstances that surrounded him. His best attribute in battle was the utter terror and shock he could install into an enemy army in the midst of battle, most often at a critical moment or an inopportune time from his opponents perspective. The Komnenian Army that was sent to meet him, numbering around 3,000 men, fell right into his trap. The mountain roads meant that few forces could actually engage one another in a pitched battle, and the Komnenian Army, expecting such a fight, deployed in the valleys below the canyons in a single block line. The Roman army accepted the challenge, but only deployed half of their force, roughly 2,000 men, in the same valley to meet the Komnenian resistors. Constantine divided the rest of his men into two parallel columns that would dash around the valley from both sides and strike the Komnenian army from the rear, preventing their escape. Clearly Constantine had favor from God, for the Komnenian general did not recognize the Roman movements on the mountain passes on his flanks, and when the battle commenced, if the Komnenian army did not score a decisive victory in the early hours of fighting, then all would be lost.
The two forces marched slowly toward one another before finally meeting. The men, when they met, probably thrust their shields toward their opponents, hoping to jar their footing before closing in with their sword or spear. The fighting grew increasingly intense, and all discipline broke into a general rabble with individual soldiers from both armies breaking ranks, finding someone to fight, and proceed to try and kill one another in any manner possible. Some would strangle their opponent with their hands, and others would pick up loose rocks and bash them into the heads of the man who considered himself to be the proper Roman. The less masculine winced at the chance to fight in a dignified manner, and resorted to trickery and deception to defeat their man, like lying down among the dead then rising up with a sword in hand and thrusting it into the most inhumane of places. As the valley turned red with blood, and the Komnenian army beginning to reel back, they were suddenly met with a sharp thrust of steel into their rear. By the time the Komnenian army had realized what happened, the battle, if one could call it that, turned into a slaughter. The entire Komnenian army was trapped and killed – in a rare display of true Roman valor, that is, to have shown little mercy to an opponent who was clearly defeated, which was much the custom of the Roman army after the conquests of Justinian. The entire Komnenian force had vanished, and if there were any survivors, they were most likely incorporated into the Roman army under Constantine, who ultimately suffered no more than 600 casualties during the engagement.
An Italian fresco depicting the Battle of Trebizond. Note the historical inaccuracy as the Romans are dressed in improper Latin heavy armor and weaponry. This was a common practice in Western European art for many centuries throughout the Medieval and into the Renaissance period.
With a rare victory behind them, Constantine marched his army to the gates of Trebizond, where a small and hasty defense force of about 2,000 men stood. Constantine, ever being the diplomat, offered the city terms of surrender at first, rather than put it to the sword. In this sense, perhaps one might consider the Greek speakers to be better Christians than the Latins, for the former seemed to take to heart Jesus’ message that “he who lives by the sword, dies by the sword,” a message that was seemingly absent from the Latin armies ever since the days of Saint Augustine. Instead of accepting the rather generous surrender terms, the commander of the guard, whose name has been lost to history, declined. The next day, Constantine, without any proper siege equipment, decided to lay siege to the city. The only way this was possible was to simply starve it from within. The Roman army simply stood outside the walls, looking at the Komnenian army inside the walls, who appropriately looked back, and perhaps on occasion, offered a salutary wave to the Romans outside the walls. However, matters would become more complicated when the Komnenian emperor secured a war declaration, of liberation, from the Georgian King – who proceeded to mobilize a truer fighting force of 10,000 men to break the “siege” of Trebizond and restore John IV to his throne. News of this impending storm reached Constantine, who quickly hastened a defense of his position, once again resorting to trickery and deception to defeat the much larger Georgian army, but who could blame him given the situation that presented itself?
The Late Period Empire, 1444 A.D., and the Conquest of Trebizond
As mentioned in my preface, I have termed this era of the Roman Empire as the “Late Period” starting after the crusader defeat at the Battle of Varna, 10 November 1444 AD. Hitherto, I will not explain why I have created the terminology; if you’re interested you may return back to the preface and read the second paragraph which explains this.
The Empire of Rome, I confess, is a very poor choice of name at this time in its storied history. While it had some legitimate claims in calling itself the continued empire as founded by Augustus Caesar, the territories under the control of the emperor, who was based in the imperial city of Constantinople, did not extend much beyond the walls of the city. While the claimed authority also presided over the Peloponnese Peninsula, this territory was under the authority of the μέγας δομέστικος - megas domestikos, or Great Domestic, who was Constantine Palaiologos, the eighth child of the Emperor Manuel II and brother to the Emperor John VIII. Additionally, there was unfinished business with the Komnenos Family, who continued to style themselves as the true successors and emperors of Rome, although their authority did not extend much beyond the mountains fortress they called their home (to a certain degree, their claim was perhaps more legitimate from a purely lineage standpoint, since they were related, although by very distantly, to the great emperors of the Komnenos Dynasty of the eleventh and twelfth centuries).
The Emperor John, who was still contemplating how to deal with the more immediate Mohammedan threat, posed by the Sultan of the Turks, called upon his younger brother, the Great Domestic of Morea, to mobilize the Imperial army to bring the Komnenians back into line. While John initially thought to restore Imperial authority to Trebizond via diplomacy, the ruling emperor of Trebizond, John IV Komnenos, rejected all attempts by John to reunify the two “empires” under a single authority that would be headed by a Palaiologoi. Instead, John IV of Trebizond insulted John VIII of Constantinople by writing him that if he would be so kind, as to acknowledge the claims of the Komnenos Family as being the true legacies of the Roman emperor, and therefore subject himself to Komnenian authority – then single authority could be restored. This of course, was something that John VIII would never accept.
Thus, Constantine Palaiologos, Great Domestic of the Morea and Captain of the Imperial Army, gathered his forces at the Golden Horn to be transported by the Roman fleet into the Black Sea and catch the pretender Komnenos off guard. Naturally however, it would be inappropriate to call this Roman Army much of an army, or their fleet, much of a navy. The Imperial Palaiologan Army numbered just 6,000 men, and their navy was not at all impressive, totaling nine proper vessels. As a result, fishing vessels and other small boats were confiscated to transport the 4,000 men under Constantine’s command into the Black Sea for their prospective invasion of Trebizond.
During the nativity of the Lord, the Imperial Army left the Golden Horn for the Black Sea, destined for the beaches of Trebizond, hoping to catch the army of Trebizond by surprise (it is also appropriate to jeer at the suggestion that the emperor of Trebizond had an army under his rule – his “imperial army” was half that of Romans, although – due to naval neglect, the sizes of both armies that would eventual meet in the mountains of eastern Anatolia were of almost equal size. The journey across the Black Sea took a devastating toll on some of the men. Those who were not fortunate enough to be transported on one of the nine Roman warships, those poor souls being transported by fishing boats and other small pieces of wood that would make any Englishman snicker at the suggestion that a two-by-four would be called a ship, had to hug the shoreline during the entire expedition. Even at that, some of the fishing boats were lost, and several hundred men drowned on the journey. A young Roman soldier wrote, “I can finally understand how poor Odysseus must have felt during his return from Troy. If Poseidon does exist, then I shall pray to the Lord he is kept contained until our safe passage to the shores of Trebizond.”
A more contemporary painting of the Golden Horn at sunset. The Horn was considered to be, along with St. Peter and Paul's Square in Rome, among the most majestic and beautiful places in the entire world. It still is, to a certain degree, true today.
This letter is most interesting for three reasons. First, the soldier mentions Odysseus, the main character in Homer’s Odyssey – meaning that some of the Greek classics were still distributed and read even among the lower classes of Romans, whom this soldier probably was part of. In comparison, the “more advanced” Latins were still slumbering in the darkness when it came to reading anything of literary merit. Second, the soldier calls into question a Pagan deity. This seemingly gives some meritorious concern that many Protestants had – in claiming that the Catholic and Eastern Churches had been infiltrated by Pagan traditions – and that their attempts to “purify” the Church of Christ were therefore valid. However, it should not come as much surprise that – under the circumstances, with the Romans actually having read the classics of Homer, in which the Olympian gods are central characters aiding the heroic Greeks in their struggle against the Trojans, would have made such references to them – whether they had any sincere belief in their existence or not cannot be established. Third, the soldier again shows the importance of religious piety by praying to the Lord, Christ, for safe passage until they reach their destination (upon which he probably would pray again for deliverance in battle).
In early 1445 AD, the Roman navy had made headway to the beaches of Trebizond and had landed on the soft sands of the of the pretending successors of Caesar, Augustus, Trajan, and Constantine. This move caught the Komnenian Army of Trebizond completely by surprise. The Emperor John IV of Trebizond fled the city with his wife and mistress, making safe passage into the mountains and fleeing to the Kingdom of Georgia – where he would court the King to help him push back the Roman army from the only real city of importance under his dominion. However, the Komnenian Army, which was not as frightened as their emperor, gathered to do battle with the Romans (if not to do anything but show the “pretender” Romans who were the “true” Romans). The Battle of Trebizond was about to begin, and the final question as to whom held the true title of Caesar, was about to be determined after 200 years of petty rivalry, jealousy, and formal confusion as to which of the noble families that had escaped the sack of Constantinople more than 200 years ago, could truly call themselves Emperor of the Romans.
The sight of the Roman army at the beaches of Trebizond should not be stylized as something romantic, mythological, or even heroic. It would have been more like a band of brigands had arrived than an actual army. Had the Romans been fighting anyone else, perhaps one could look back at the siege of Trebizond with some sense of pride, encouragement, or audacity on the part of the Romans – but any such notions would be untrue. Even so, the army that claimed to be the scions of the legions of Scipio Africanus and Julius Caesar would had borne little resemblance to the fighting machines that fought in the Punic Wars or during Caesar’s Conquest of the Gallic tribes – in fact, those two model armies of the Republic would have had little resemblance to one another, so for the Romans to claim that their forces still resembled what was, for a great deal of time, the most effective military in the world, seems dubious.
The morale of the Imperial army was lackluster at best, but having experienced two-and-a-half centuries of defeat after defeat, it is a miraculous feat that the army decided to fight after journeying out of the Golden Horn, across the Black Sea, and landing at the beaches of Trebizond. The fighting style of the Romans had changed little since the composition and tactics of the Komnenian Army of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, another reason that precipitated their military decline after the Palaiologoi Restoration. One tradition that was however, remarkably similar to the legions of Caesar was the bearing of the Imperial regalia at the head columns of the Roman fighting force.
Although, since the adoption of Christianity as the state religion of the empire, the traditional Eagle and Banner markers indicating the Legion number had long been forgotten, replaced by flags bearing the face of the Son of God or the Virgin Mother – the same idea held true. The Roman army therefore, as it composed itself and marched toward the city of Trebizond, had in the foreground of the marching column the Tetragrammic cross, a red colored flag separated into four squares by a yellow cross – with each square bearing the Greek letter beta in each corner. The composition of the letter beta in the four corners roughly denoted the phrase, “King of Kings, the ruler of other kings.” This motto was inherited by the old empire of Constantine, and was unmistakably Roman in its origin (conversely it may have been of Persian origins). Therefore, to see a red-stained flag, presumably the blood of the martyrs past, with beta, beta, beta, beta, marching toward you – that generally meant one should cower in fear at the approaching army. In this case, neither the phrase, nor the general reaction would seem appropriate.
The famous Roman flag, with the phrase Βασιλεὺς βασιλέων βασιλεύων βασιλεύουσιν, hence the betas, roughly denoting the phrase, "King of Kings, the ruler of other kings."
The “King of Kings” was isolated to the confines of a single city. In fact, upon John VIII’s return from Italy – he never again left the walls of Constantinople. Furthermore, this King of Rome did not rule over or demand tribute from other kings, let alone was he the King of Rome, as the motto implies; the reverse was true, the King of Kings was being ruled over by other kings and often had to pay them tribute just for his own survival. Lastly, the vaunted war machines of Caesar, Titus, and Constantine would have been ashamed that an army that hadn’t seen a notable victory in over two centuries had the audacity to call itself the Army of Rome, let alone the heir to the Roman Legion. Instead of fear, for many centuries, a Roman army marching toward you meant victory was imminent for your forces, not Rome’s.
Despite so much against the Roman army, it had one great advantage in its arsenal, Constantine Palaiologos, who was, for his time, a very fine commander – given the circumstances that surrounded him. His best attribute in battle was the utter terror and shock he could install into an enemy army in the midst of battle, most often at a critical moment or an inopportune time from his opponents perspective. The Komnenian Army that was sent to meet him, numbering around 3,000 men, fell right into his trap. The mountain roads meant that few forces could actually engage one another in a pitched battle, and the Komnenian Army, expecting such a fight, deployed in the valleys below the canyons in a single block line. The Roman army accepted the challenge, but only deployed half of their force, roughly 2,000 men, in the same valley to meet the Komnenian resistors. Constantine divided the rest of his men into two parallel columns that would dash around the valley from both sides and strike the Komnenian army from the rear, preventing their escape. Clearly Constantine had favor from God, for the Komnenian general did not recognize the Roman movements on the mountain passes on his flanks, and when the battle commenced, if the Komnenian army did not score a decisive victory in the early hours of fighting, then all would be lost.
The two forces marched slowly toward one another before finally meeting. The men, when they met, probably thrust their shields toward their opponents, hoping to jar their footing before closing in with their sword or spear. The fighting grew increasingly intense, and all discipline broke into a general rabble with individual soldiers from both armies breaking ranks, finding someone to fight, and proceed to try and kill one another in any manner possible. Some would strangle their opponent with their hands, and others would pick up loose rocks and bash them into the heads of the man who considered himself to be the proper Roman. The less masculine winced at the chance to fight in a dignified manner, and resorted to trickery and deception to defeat their man, like lying down among the dead then rising up with a sword in hand and thrusting it into the most inhumane of places. As the valley turned red with blood, and the Komnenian army beginning to reel back, they were suddenly met with a sharp thrust of steel into their rear. By the time the Komnenian army had realized what happened, the battle, if one could call it that, turned into a slaughter. The entire Komnenian army was trapped and killed – in a rare display of true Roman valor, that is, to have shown little mercy to an opponent who was clearly defeated, which was much the custom of the Roman army after the conquests of Justinian. The entire Komnenian force had vanished, and if there were any survivors, they were most likely incorporated into the Roman army under Constantine, who ultimately suffered no more than 600 casualties during the engagement.
An Italian fresco depicting the Battle of Trebizond. Note the historical inaccuracy as the Romans are dressed in improper Latin heavy armor and weaponry. This was a common practice in Western European art for many centuries throughout the Medieval and into the Renaissance period.
With a rare victory behind them, Constantine marched his army to the gates of Trebizond, where a small and hasty defense force of about 2,000 men stood. Constantine, ever being the diplomat, offered the city terms of surrender at first, rather than put it to the sword. In this sense, perhaps one might consider the Greek speakers to be better Christians than the Latins, for the former seemed to take to heart Jesus’ message that “he who lives by the sword, dies by the sword,” a message that was seemingly absent from the Latin armies ever since the days of Saint Augustine. Instead of accepting the rather generous surrender terms, the commander of the guard, whose name has been lost to history, declined. The next day, Constantine, without any proper siege equipment, decided to lay siege to the city. The only way this was possible was to simply starve it from within. The Roman army simply stood outside the walls, looking at the Komnenian army inside the walls, who appropriately looked back, and perhaps on occasion, offered a salutary wave to the Romans outside the walls. However, matters would become more complicated when the Komnenian emperor secured a war declaration, of liberation, from the Georgian King – who proceeded to mobilize a truer fighting force of 10,000 men to break the “siege” of Trebizond and restore John IV to his throne. News of this impending storm reached Constantine, who quickly hastened a defense of his position, once again resorting to trickery and deception to defeat the much larger Georgian army, but who could blame him given the situation that presented itself?
Last edited: