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Making Rome Great Again or how I was born as Constantine IX, Emperor of the Romans ch 43 (Historical Fiction SI)
🕑 Added 2025-12-30 06:09:42 +0000 UTC+++
The Emperor
[SPOILER="Hymn of Justinian"][URL unfurl="true" media="youtube:MsT_cPsVClA, list: PLk1ZTr3-diBVpRZvVF7Al-F9-Ki3-tqOj"]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MsT_cPsVClA&list=PLk1ZTr3-diBVpRZvVF7Al-F9-Ki3-tqOj&index=4[/URL][/SPOILER]
Conquest was easy. Administration was hard. There was plenty of reasons why the Scythians did not bother to govern land when it was far easier to kill a man and his family for what they were worth than organizing them for tax. But he was not a Scythian or some other flavour of Steppe barbarian but a Roman; a God-appointed Emperor.
The road south in the Levant had been challenging enough. The effort it took to even prepare for it was monumental but there was nothing preparation and faith in God could achieve. With the reconquest of the Levant, it became clear to Basil the issues of governing a land that had long since been removed from the polis. As soon as the truce with the Egyptians was finalized, Basil had hurried himself into administrating the reconquered land.
He faced the most immediate challenge of course, that being a population of Muslim Arabs. Basil saw no reason to antagonize them. Why would he when he could tax them instead? The Levant was ridiculously wealthy. From ancient days to now, it was an artery for trade and commerce. When his predecessor, Nikephoros Phokas, retook Antioch, the revenues the polis had gained was enormous, to the point that being appointed as Strategos of Antioch was an immediate boost to any aspiring Patrikios's career.
And now, they had Jerusalem, Tyre, Sidon, Acre and many more.
The logothete were foaming at the mouth combing through the administrative and tax records of the previous governors. It would take time for the treasury to tap into the wealth of the Levant; they had to establish offices and other administrative nodes first. But when it did, Rome would once again count on the east's wealth once more.
But Basil was not too focused on the wealth alone, for he was appointed by Christ. He knew who he owed his crown to and it was not to gold.
[SPOILER="Church of the Holy Sepulchre "][/SPOILER]
The priests had allowed him a moment of privacy. This was Golgotha, the place where his Lord had died. And it was here, Basil dedicated his free time when could. The air was thick with the scent of incense and burning candles. Basil was free of his imperial vestments, wearing nothing more but a simple purple robe that marked his office. Before his Lord, he was ultimately a servant and no man ought to presume before the Prince of Peace.
There, Basil prayed. He thanked God for his victories, his spear raised in defense for the children of Rome, never against her. He thanked God that the Levant was Christian and Roman once more. He humbly asked for further blessings be sent upon his house and his people. He-
The doors to the chapel opened. And feet rushed in.
Basil stopped and straightened himself. He turned to see a cowled figure rush in, and kneel.
Words were spoken and a letter exchanged.
Basil paused to hear and read.
Then, he turned towards the chapel, and thanked God.
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"With Rome under our orbit, we are once again involved with matters in the west," Basil spoke.
The sun was starting to dip, the light a heavy-orange. Servants were starting to light candles. Basil stood ramrod-straight at the head of the table, his other officers and officials at their own seats. Closest to him, his strategoi. Ouranos, Botaneiates, Down the line, his ministers and their secretaries. The news had broken out that the Domestikos and Caesar had stormed through Italy and retook Rome. Outside, the soldiers were cheering and drinking. Such activity, Basil would have stamped down usually. But today of all days, he would allow them to celebrate.
The Levant was theirs. Ancient lands in Moesia and in Illyria was theirs again. Rome was theirs.
It was disappointing to hear that Xiphias had tried to go against his nephew. But Xiphias had always had issues he tolerated simply because the man was good at his job. He supposed that Xiphias had felt his nephew was much more affable to independent thinking, courtesy of his softer attitude courtesy of his father but that was not the case. He approved how swiftly Constantine had dealt with Xiphias. Rebellion against the Imperial family was not to be tolerated.
Basil continued. "Our presence in Italy through the Catapan was minimal. But now that Rome is ours and most of Central and Southern, we will have to defend it. I want to hear your opinions."
The table glanced at each other.
Ouranos, ever the strategist, spoke first. "I have concerns, sire."
Basil nodded. "Speak."
Heads turned towards him. "Firstly, defending it. Italy must be crossed before we can protect it. That means protecting both the Adriatic and Tyrrhenian seas. We can of course continue supplying directly through Bari but land travel is always slower than sea. Which comes to another problem."
He stood up, and walked over to a board where a map of the known world was set up. Eyes followed as he tapped into the map. "Sicily is under the rule of Saracens. Supplying Rome through the west will be threatened by them, and we all know that if they sense an opportunity, the Saracens in Italy would menace us with piracy."
That was true enough. Sicily had been a base for pirates who had attacked not just their territories but also the rest of Italy and beyond.
"To further secure our supply lines, and further gain the loyalty of the local elites who suffer their raids, I must insist that Sicily be recaptured as soon as possible," Ouranos declared. "The further we stabilize the seas, the less expensive defending Italy is."
Basil leaned forwards, fingers rolling his side-burns, deep in thought. He recalled how expensive protecting Italy was during Justinian's day, and the further decades of the Exarchate of Ravenna.
"We need not worry about a devastated populace however," Botaneiates interjected. "The Emperor Justinian had to worry about a ruined Italy that had to be rebuilt from the ground-up. It would seem that the Domestikos had been careful to not cause too much ruin. With the tax of the locals, Italy can sustain itself."
"There still remains Sicily," Ouranos returned. "They will always remain a threat to Italy's security in the immediate. And then...there is the other threat."
Snorts were shared around the table, snorts that Basil silenced with a glare.
Of all the things, Otto was their guest, alongside his sister and numerous members of the German court.
"The Germans will hate us for this humiliation," Ouranos pointed out. "They derive legitimacy from holding Rome and the Pope. Without both, they cannot erroneously claim to be the Emperor of the Romans or get crowned as such. From this day on, we must assume that the Germans will be our enemies."
"That is rather inflexible, Strategos," an official commented. "Can there be no easing of hostilities between us?"
"I am of the mind that would be impossible with the reasons I have stated," Ouranos said firmly. Heads turned to each other, each man aware of the fiction that the Germans ran their kingdom.
Basil thought this through.
Defending Rome had always been a challenge, by sheer virtue of Rome not really enjoying any natural defenses. But defend it he must regardless. The symbolic importance of the city was far too heavy. He thought of the present, and of the future and Ouranos was crafty enough to inform him of what they were working with.
"Speaking of the present, my nephew is there with the Western Army," Basil mulled. "But the Western Army cannot stay there forever. Greece and Bulgaria is much more important, and must be protected lest Scythians from the East ride out once more."
The fact the Bulgarians did not rebel against them was a miracle, and it only told him that his domestic policies there was working. "What does the Emperor intend, then?" Ouranos asked.
"What do we know of the Saracens there?"
"They are fractured, weak, and divided," Ouranos supplied. "They are subject to the Caliph in Cairo but with the domestic situation there, the Caliph is unlikely or even able to send help."
"But the Saracens in Africa could," Botaneiates supplied. "If the Saracens in Sicily call for help, they might come."
"And most of the navy is here, or returned to pirate hunting duties," Basil mused.
If Sicil had to be taken, the Western Army was already on Italy. But there was an issue of transport and of course, leaving Rome vulnerable. But then again, the Germans would more than likely be unable to mount a serious offensive nor would the Northern Italian feel inclined to head south.
"Sicily must be retaken sooner than later," Basil decided. "Draft a letter to my nephew and inform upon him the necessity of retaking the island."
"And the ships for this, sire?" Ouranos asked.
"He has the fleet which transported his reinforcements in Bari. Take those," Basil ordered. "If further ships are needed, impress upon the Doge for transport."
The strategoi and officials nodded.
"And our guest in Rome?" Ouranos asked.
Basil tapped his finger on the table. This was an opportunity of a lifetime. "Send a detachment of Scholai and Varangians to transport our guests to Constantinople."
Heads in the room shared looks, the command like thunder through their veins.
"The Germans will hate that, sire." Botaneiates warned.
Basil shared a look. "We can either turn a man into a friend, and not be too cruel to him or we exact great injury that we need not fear his vengeance. Gentlemen, we have humiliated him before Rome. He will remember that for as long as he lives. He will hate us forever because of that. A friend, we cannot gain from that, but an enemy. Thus, we must extract concessions while we hold him, until there is nothing left."
Grim looks were shared around.
"I do not intend to blind and castrate him," Basil continued. That was stupid. Otto would be martyred, and become a rallying cry. "No, he shall be a guest in Constantinople the same way the King of the Bulgarians was, Roman, whom my nephew captured in battle."
Roman had unfortunately died in the year previously. His health wasn't very good, courtesy of his castration on the order of John Tzimiskes. That had been a most cruel fate for Roman but Basil understood why it had to be done for Roman could have tried to claim the Imperial Throne for himself for he was the son of Irene Lekapene, daughter of Christopher Lekapene who was heir to Romanos I Lekapenos. Castration was reserved for internal threats and while Otto was related to them via his mother, Teophano, he was a German and no man in Constantinople, no matter how power-hungry, would try to crown a foreign ruler Basileus.
"We shall make arrangements, then," Botaneiates announced.
With Otto close to Constantinople, Basil could extract concessions on the boy. He intended to make good use of this opportunity. And speaking of which...
"My nephew has impressed upon me a letter for consideration," Basil informed them. The Strategoi and officials leaned in, Ouranos returning to his seat.
"He requests of me that we should call for an ecumenical council to be held in Rome," Basil said. "It is auspicious, he says, that we hold one before the new millennium. He intends this council to settle on issues he has encountered in the West as to affirm previous ones."
Eyes turned to the one member of the clergy that could comment on that. Orestes Hieremias, the Patriarch of Jerusalem, furrowed his brows. "What sorts of issues?"
Basil took out the letter offered to him, and read it.
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To the Christ-conquering, Christ-appointed, and Universally Loved Basileus, Basil II, Emperor and Autocrat of the Romans.
At his Majesty's command, I have marched the Western Army to secure Italy at the request of his servant, Crescentius, so-called Consul of Rome, and aid the Pope, John XVII. I have encountered the armies of the Franks and the Germans, and defeated them thrice in battle. Their chief and King, Otto, is Your Majesty's guests, alongside members of his court.
I remain a guard to the Eternal City, and protect it against bandits, reavers, and looters that have risen from the defeat of the Franks and the Germans, and I await word from your Imperial Majesty for further instructions.
In the meantime, I humbly ask Your Majesty to impart upon the Fathers of the Church for an ecumenical council. There is much to be celebrated in our Holy Church, the return of Jerusalem is much to be celebrated, and with the dawn of a new millenium, it would be auspicious. There also remains the matter of certain issues Your Servant has encountered; time and distance has set about disturbing trends, if left alone, could prove to be divisive to the unity of the oikumene.
In this Council, such issues will be resolved once and for all. Attached to this letter are such issues.
I await Your Majesty's will and wisdom in this matter.
- Constantine Porphyrogénnētos, Domestikos ton Scholon, Caesar.
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As he finished, Basil held out the other letter, detailing the so-called issues highlighted by his nephew. He offered it to a servant who took it to the Patriarch. Orestes took the letter with both hands, the thin parchment whispering as his fingers adjusted their grip, his eyes moving not quickly but steadily.
The council watched with interest as his mouth turned into a thin line.
"I see," he said simply, lowering the parchment on the table.
Basil was devout. But his devotion did not automatically translate to full understanding the Church conducted its affairs. That required a certain patience that Basil was not interested in. He saw only one church after all. But the reaction of the Patriarch was of interest to him.
"Will it be problematic?" Basil asked.
The Patriarch rubbed his head. "Time and distance indeed," he muttered. He sighed, then looked up to the Emperor who was waiting for answers.
"Nothing too alarming, I assure you," Orestes smoothed. Constantine had highlighted some problematic concepts but nothing too major such as the west suddenly turning Monophysite all of a sudden. "Such issues, a Council could smooth over. I concur with the Domestikos."
Basil thought about it. He did not feel an intense pull to hold one simply because a new millennium was coming but he was concerned for the unity of the oikumene. But his nephew was adamant. He knew him long enough when he was serious and the lack of niceties, as was his irritating language, translated the immensity of his request.
"I shall leave it to be organized," Basil said simply.
And thus they went on towards the next agenda.
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The Porphyrogenita
There are decades where nothing happens, and there are weeks where decades happen. While it was not exactly weeks, it was still such a short amount of time where history was made.
The Queen of Cites was alive. Zoe did not mean that in a figurative sense, for the Queen of Cities was always booming with the comings and goings of the day. She however meant that literally. The servants walked straighter, hope and happiness was in the eyes and voices of everyone. The sun seemed to shine brighter, and the days much more fulfilling. And Zoe knew who to blame.
The conquests of her Uncle were enough to cement their house into legendary status. After hundreds of years, the Levant was Roman once more. And now Rome, the Eternal City, was theirs. If anything, Constantine's efforts there made them untouchable.
And of course, Zoe took it all in stride. People were worshipful of her as she passed, tones of real deference whenever they spoke to her. Her father lapped it all up, as he was, bravely playing Polo with his friends and them happy to let him win, hell, he even organized a round of chariot races in the Hippodrome out of his own pocket, and threw money into the stands as a show of generosity.
In truth, Zoe desperately missed Constantine. He...well...she knew why. Her body ached for him. But with the victories happening, she was quite sure that he would return home for a Triumph. He and their uncle earned that much and the people were expecting it. Uninvolved with politics as she was, she had heard through her own contacts how the the Eparch of the City was talking about clearing the routes for what was likely the grandest Triumph in living memory.
And she was adding to that, in her own little way.
The Gardens sparked with life, chatter and no small amount of loud voices. But they were respectful enough, even as she and her party revealed themselves. They were plenty of them, dressed to impress in the best way they could. Some were older, others younger, but united in beard and head-dress, and language.
At her side, Theodora could barely contain her excitement, the damnable book-worm.
This had been a project her brother requested of her for awhile and by the love of Christ, it was next to impossible. For one, she did not care for books or the intricacies of learning. That was more of Theodora's venture and really, she had to turn to her sister for this task for she knew the right people. What Zoe could provide was the willingness to talk, something Theodora would waste no time in, courtesy of her utter inability to be human for five seconds.
And thus, Zoe put on her best smile, and charm as she began to address the assembled men.
"Welcome, gentlemen, to the Envy of the World!" Zoe proclaimed, and that was no idle boast. "On behalf of the Emperor and the people of this great city, I thank you."
Her Arabic was not fluent. But it was acceptable, courtesy of the tutelage granted to her position. She was not foolish enough to not learn the languages of their empire's subjects and there were now a whole lot of them courtesy of her uncle's conquests.
The scholars grunted, some more happy than others. An Arab strode forwards, his beard thick but his eyes bright. "It is our honour to accept. We have long wished to see the Queen of Cities and needless to say, it does not disappoint."
Theodora stared at him as if he was a god. Quickly, she added. "No, it is our great honour, Al-Hazen," Theodora proclaimed.
The presence of this men were thanks in no small part to her for Theodora had met some scholar named Ibn Butlan, whatever that meant. The man had travelled a lot, it seemed, and knew who to contact. The offer was relatively simple; generous patronage from Theodora, Zoe, and Constantine, as well as numerous other scholarly circles in the Queen of Cities who, upon hearing of their project, wished to have the men nearby. Constantinople had sent much of its knowledge to the Arabs and it was only proper that the Arabs returned what they knew to its source as well.
There was a certain concern stemming from the Church at the presence of so many Saracens close to the Imperial family but the concerns were drowned out that some of these scholars were Christian.
"Constantinople is much more peaceful at this time. I look forward to teaching here," another scholar added. When he spoke, Ibn Butlan would make a face. Apparently, he and the man did not like each other.
"This is what we asked you for. You and many others were highly recommended," Zoe added.
So more so than others. Constantine had given her a list of names. But some were a bit too far to reach or did not want to go. The ones from Egypt were understandable as Zoe had found out that the Caliph and his court were feuding. The others from Baghdad were hesitant for understandable reasons.
A pity, Zoe felt.
This Avicenna was promising.
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A/N: Other fics will now be updated in the following days.
Three of the big name scholars that Zoe and Theodora were able to tap:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ibn_al-Haytham
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ali_ibn_Ridwan
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ibn_Butlan
The scholars from Baghdad would need some time and maybe even a little prodding. They really have no real incentive to go to Constantinople when they are established already. The ones from Egypt though have reason to move. Remember that Al-Hakim is hostage to his court at this time and tensions are already flaring. Al-Haytham and Ibn Ridwan, wanting to avoid issues, would have plausible reason to transport to Cosntantinople for a time until Egypt calms down.
Renaissance time baby.
Comments
gelis
What year is it? Ibn Butlan was not born before 1001 and ibn Ridwan would've been 12 at the turn of the millennium
russell marsh
And the reward for doing good work is more work. And i hope the sister isn't the jealous type
